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It's like Hooters, except with pecs

  • Hooters
Hooters (Antonio Perez/Tribune…)
December 22, 2011|By Jen Kim, For RedEye

What do women want exactly?

You'd think the answer would be simple, especially since I am a member of the Double X-Chromosome Club, but sometimes, I'm not sure what the recipe for happiness entails.

For men, it seems easy enough. There is a place, which presses every man's happy button. Think of it as the Disneyland for the male id.

Welcome to Hooters, how may we serve you?

The Hooters experience begins with buxom waitresses, eager to feed the male mouth and ego in ways that exist only in beer commercials.

While men stuff themselves with wings, chicks in short-shorts stuff their tank tops with their chests. More cleavage means more tips. More tips means more cleavage. It's a win-win for all involved—that is, except for me, and other women who don't enjoy live breast meat at eye-level while trying to enjoy a nice cobb salad.

Which is why a savvy entrepreneur in South Korea turned the dining tables on the Hooters' experience, according to a recent CNN story. If you happen to find yourself in the Gangnam district in Seoul, you may run into a long line of ladies, eagerly waiting to get into the hottest new restaurant in town: Mies Container.

What are they waiting for? Some think it may be the food; others surmise it's the original architecture—an award-winning facility resembling an industrial warehouse. But I have a hunch that it has more to do with the servers—all "energetic" and good-looking men who unabashedly flirt with the female patrons.

Mies Container hires only young men—with construction worker builds and supermodel looks—to work the floor of the restaurant. Apparently, they dish out compliments along with the main course, and in return, receive love notes written on napkins from smitten diners. It's a perfect relationship, for the half-hour these women dine there.

As hunky-dory as this all sounds, I think Mies Container (or any other similar restaurant venture) should take it a few steps further.

Ogling a hot waiter can get tiresome real fast, especially if he's giving every estrogen-laden lady the same special treatment.

In addition to paying compliments, servers should single out each customer and ask her about her day and/or if that annoying bitch at work was being a bitch again. A simple "How was your day, beautiful?" or "I can't believe they haven't fired that idiot yet" will suffice. They also should make sure to include a "You are so skinny!" somewhere in the conversation.

All servers should ooze charm, humor and intelligence. Instead of hearing "nice boobs," women will be subject to George Clooney-style flattery—perhaps a recitation of non-cheesy poetry or an original song, written expressly for them.

Moreover, the restaurant should have a designated station specifically for women to bring their hard-to-open pickle jars and containers. As handsome men remove your lids, they will not make mean comments about your weakness or make any wisecracks at your expense. Instead they will ask you if you want a foot rub.

Lastly, the dishwashing station should be at the center of the dining room. There's nothing quite as gratifying as watching attractive men happily doing your dishes, while you sit back and relax, for a change.

If this kind of restaurant truly existed, forget dinner—I'd move into the joint.


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