Thursday, February 03, 2005
Robots vs. the Ladies of the Lower East Side
Sometime last year the Manhattan Gentlemen's Club opened in the shuttered bank on Houston and Essex, right around the corner from 12" (formerly known as Filthy McNasty's and currently known for hosting Krucoff and his Dodgeball crew's No Data parties) and next door to the Mercury Lounge. As you've already guessed, the Gentlemen's Club was a strip joint. It intially got a good deal of publicity as some downtown notables, or at least Moby, showed up during it's opening week. It didn't last. Now the place is a shuttered bank once more.
Yesterday I was chatting with Lindsay about how I had predicted the place was not going to last. This wasn't exactly genius prognostication on my part; it was pretty damn obvious to anyone familiar with the neighborhood. To begin with, it's my impression that strip clubs in Manhattan are mainly patronized by out-of-town business men staying in nearby hotels. Although this may soon be changing, there simply aren't enough hotels catering to this type to support a "gentlemen's club."
More importantly, in any one of two dozen nearby bars a gentleman can garner the attention of a young lady by merely knowing the names of a few cool emo bands, telling a mildly ironic joke or two, having awkward hair and buying them a drink. Basically, all you need is $5 and an episode or two of the OC.
These girls might be more leg-warmers over cowboy boots than g-strings and five inch heals, but what you lose in silicone-inflated appendages, bleached hair and Eastern European accents, you gain in terms of their having an apartment nearby and no rules against fraternizing with the men.
Inspired by my conversation with Lindsay and her later conversation with Anna, the Ikea robot helper-girl, I decided to see if LES-style seduction would work on the automated Scandanavian.
MT: If I buy you a whiskey, will you take off your shirt?
Anna: Because IKEA prices are already so low, additional discounts are not offered.
MT: You've got great legs for a robot.
Anna: Here you will find the Bed Legs.
So, uhm, yeah. Works on robots too.
Yesterday I was chatting with Lindsay about how I had predicted the place was not going to last. This wasn't exactly genius prognostication on my part; it was pretty damn obvious to anyone familiar with the neighborhood. To begin with, it's my impression that strip clubs in Manhattan are mainly patronized by out-of-town business men staying in nearby hotels. Although this may soon be changing, there simply aren't enough hotels catering to this type to support a "gentlemen's club."
More importantly, in any one of two dozen nearby bars a gentleman can garner the attention of a young lady by merely knowing the names of a few cool emo bands, telling a mildly ironic joke or two, having awkward hair and buying them a drink. Basically, all you need is $5 and an episode or two of the OC.
These girls might be more leg-warmers over cowboy boots than g-strings and five inch heals, but what you lose in silicone-inflated appendages, bleached hair and Eastern European accents, you gain in terms of their having an apartment nearby and no rules against fraternizing with the men.
Inspired by my conversation with Lindsay and her later conversation with Anna, the Ikea robot helper-girl, I decided to see if LES-style seduction would work on the automated Scandanavian.
MT: If I buy you a whiskey, will you take off your shirt?
Anna: Because IKEA prices are already so low, additional discounts are not offered.
MT: You've got great legs for a robot.
Anna: Here you will find the Bed Legs.
So, uhm, yeah. Works on robots too.
