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Apparently there is something about a 34-year-old guy who is taking his 3-year-old daughter out to lunch that seems to draw huge throngs of young women. My daughter and I practice this ritual every few weeks, and I never cease to be amazed at the effect it has. Picture, if you will, me, a tall good-looking guy in black leather boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather motorcycle jacket, walking into one of those Texas-style roadhouse steak joints holding hands with a little blond girl about three feet tall decked out totally in pink. The scene is almost so cute it makes you sick. And as we walk in through the door, every waitress in the place seems to all-of-a-sudden decide that she needs to be the hostess for a minute or two. Instantly we are surrounded by a mob of beautiful young women, all of whom are smiling at me from ear to ear and saying all sorts of semi-irritating things to my daughter like, "How old are you sweetie?" or "Is this your Daddy?" Fortunately, it doesn't really bother me because I'm too busy checking out their thongs and tight butts as they bend over to say hi to my daughter. And this VIP treatment doesn't stop even after three or four of the "hostesses" have shown us to our table and passed out the requisite crayons and menus. Indeed, all throughout the meal young women are constantly walking past our table, smiling and/or winking at me and waving at my daughter. I'm sure this treatment only serves to solidify my daughter's misbegotten belief that she is in fact the next Disney princess.