What color is your cheese?

So we are having lunch at Hooters. Why we were having lunch at Hooters is not really important to this fable except just know it’s not our usual “cup of TEE.” (yes, I stayed up late thinking of that one.) But to Bobby’s dismay, it is now.
We are seated at our table by our hostess and I get lull into a false sense of security because a nice looking waiter takes our drink orders so I think, cool, no boobs waitress. Hot waiter guy even cooler. Of course he takes our orders, disappears, never to be seen again and a very hot waitress shows up.
I need to add a sidebar here. I do not hate hot chicks. From a very young age I decided that if I couldn’t be a hot chick, I should surround myself with them and just try to blend in and maybe their radiance would reflect my non-radiance. Sure this is shallow but it’s working for me so far.
So I do enjoy hot chicks. And my hot chicks are brilliant. That being said, I entered Hooters with an open mind that many of the girls are probably just using their outer beauty to fuel their thirst for higher education… Plus it was the closest restaurant to our hotel and I was starving.
She takes my order as I point at the roast beef sandwich on the menu. Visual aid is a plus in my world. The next thing that happened changed my life forever. Bobby wishes he had my face on a large screen tv because my look was that intense. As god as my witness, she looked directly at me, smiling from boob to boob and asked.. “white or yellow cheese?” then looks at Bobby and asks “would she like American or provolone Cheese?” in 12 years of marriage, my husband has never been speechless. He was.
He swallowed hard and finally answered in a weak, broken voice, “provolone.” She leaves and we both die with laughter. It had to be the best line I’ve gotten since the guy who bitched that my seminar sucked because of my speech
I’m sure she meant well and I’m the first to say I don't look smart. Well I don't. It's just a fact. But still, come on, “white or yellow?” What a bizarre question to ask anyone over 11.
I guess I should have been offended but I found it one of the funniest questions I ever heard. So I think we should go to hooters more, just for the sheer entertainment value. White or yellow? What a fraking hoot.
I have to write a short side message to my hot chicks or Bobby will whine, “you only tell them when I do dumb things, you never tell them when I’m sweet." Blah blah blah. Bobby surprised me and took me on a belated anniversary trip to Galveston. One big collected “aw” please…
I should let it go and just focus on my sweet husband but, that's just not how i'm wired. So, no, i'm not over it… white or yellow… I should color code my frig… and my sick thoughts keeps going on and on. Friends are coming for dinner Saturday. I think I’ll ask Bobby to make brown soup for us this weekend? With white fluffy stuff? And if Christopher comes, he’ll want that yellow stuff. (what sad is my friends probably know what my colors are referencing. Scary huh?