The other day in The Forum I read an article titled - Hooters-style ‘breastaurants’ experiencing a mini-boom. The article talked about a restaurant called Twin Peaks where the female servers “wear skimpy plaid tops that accentuate their chests.” You get the point – or the points, if you will. They are selling a lot more than food.
I am pretty much okay with that. I understand the phenomenon. The smaller the outfit and the more attractive the servers, the more money you can charge for a run-of-the-mill meal. It is about the entire experience…and food tastes better when you aren’t paying a lick of attention to it.
The only quibble I have is in regard to equality. There needs to be restaurants that offer like services to women – skimpy outfits on attractive male servers. Women should likewise have an opportunity to get lost in the dining experience.
Allow me to paint the picture – welcome to The Kitty Corral.
At The Kitty Corral the servers wear blue jeans, chaps and cowboy hats – kinda’ like this fella.
At The Kitty Corral you don’t have happy hour you have Round-up Hour.
At The Kitty Corral every time you order fried gizzards a group of the servers come over and do a little dance to the song Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.
At The Kitty Corral on your birthday not only is your meal free - a photo is taken with you cavortin’ with the servers.
At The Kitty Corral the servers aim to please and try awfully hard to make your dining experience unforgettable.
So go ahead fellas, have your breastaurants and we women will have our beefstros. Breastaurants may be experiencing a “mini-boom”, but I predict that beefstros will eclipse them. Think about how many outfits and themes these beefstros can sport – my goodness, it is a multi-billion dollar industry in the making.
Of course, these fads come an go and this one is likely to fade over time as well. I mean seriously, how many times can one be served by a handsome, chiseled, shirtless man before it gets old?? Hmmm…I will have to reflect upon that.
One thing is for sure, decades from now, when folks ponder how it came to be that women developed an seemingly unexplainable obsession with fried gizzards there will still be some of us who will wear a knowing smile.
Day one thousand and eighty-seven of the new forty – obla di obla da