Ms. Rock Chick in London

Last night, Ryan the Wandering Menace and I completed Operation Hot Sister.  This is our code name for an experiment that we devised in order to test the theory that dressing sluttaciously and exuding off-the-charts stupidity yields greater man-shopping success.  It was also an opportunity for some introspection, as Operation Hot Sister required us to play a character who is our opposite in every way.

This is the profile that we created for me:

Name : Kayti

Style : Rocker glam

Intelligence : Minimal

Personality : No sense of humor, plagued with pretentious angst

Profession : Barista (and bitter about it)

Man-shopping goal : Charm at least one gentleman into giving her his number

So I decked myself out all in black, including the mini-est mini-skirt on the market, I eye-lined the shit out of my eyes so that I looked like a raccoon, and I piled on as much jewelry and hardware as I could (including a belt buckle that was a rhinestoned skull with a bandana).  For a comical visual, you can check out Ryan’s depiction of me here.

As for sounding unintelligent, this is a skill that I was born with, as I am a native Californian.

In a similar vein, Ryan’s character was a bimbo/aspiring actress named Rachel who, on a good day, has the IQ of mud.  She rocked a skin-tight leopard print number, leg-warmers and a pompadour (see photo to the left).  For her full account of Operation Hot Sister, complete with kickass illustrations, check out her blog post here.

Our preparation for Operation Hot Sister consisted of six easy steps:

  1. Buy bottle of sparkling wine from cute French man at Nicolas, who seemed somewhat appalled by our lack of knowledge about champagne.
  2. Buy pastrami sandwich from Pret for dinner.
  3. Buy turkey and stuffing sandwich from Pret as a back-up sandwich, just in case.  One always needs a back-up sandwich when one intends to imbibe alcohol.
  4. Once home, put on Katy Perry’s “California Girls” to help us get into character.
  5. While primping, consume wine and primary sandwich.
  6. Place back-up sandwich in refrigerator.  Congratulate ourselves and feel smug about our foresight.

After picking up some last minute essentials (i.e. ridged salt and vinegar chips), we hopped on a bus to Camden Town and commenced Operation Hot Sister in earnest.  We wandered into the first pub/bar that we saw…

A photo of all the guys NOT checking us out. This is what things looked like from our point of view... only the backs of men's heads.

… and promptly left after realizing that the male patrons of this particular establishment were between the ages of 18 and 20, sported hair that was longer than ours, and looked like they only tore themselves away from playing World of Warcraft in their mothers’ basements once a week.

In the next bar that we entered, the male clientele was age-appropriate and did not cut their hair to look like Legolas from Lord of the Rings.  This seemed like a much more promising venue, so we decided that this would be our base of operations for the evening.

However, despite the fact that we looked smokin’ hot, nobody even glanced in our direction.

NOT EVEN ONCE.

Not even THIS guy would look in our direction.

I mean, COME ON, Ryan was wearing leopard print, for god’s sake.  Somebody should have at least glanced in our direction.  The genetically-challenged girl with the 80s side ponytail got more male attention than this scantily clad blonde-Asian sandwich of hotness.

We never got a chance to unveil our characters and test our theories.

Honestly, at this point, my goal of getting a guy’s number was no longer on the table.  At this point, we would have settled for getting one glance in our direction.

I am not exaggerating.  The most attention that we received was from an elderly gentleman who tried to force us to dance.  But he was drunk enough to be legally blind, so that doesn’t really count.

It occurred to us that something horrific had occurred and that overnight we had become repulsive to the opposite sex.

This revelation was difficult — nay, IMPOSSIBLE — to stomach.

So what did we do?

"No mojo? What the hell, Man-shopper??"

We drank.

And judging from the pictures that I found on my phone the morning after, we must have drunk a copious amount.

After an undetermined number of shots and hours of watching our self-esteem crumble like dust between our fingers, we decided that the only way to salvage the situation was to leave and buy foot-long sandwiches from Subway.  (In our drunken haze, we probably forgot that we had back-up sandwiches waiting for us at home.)

And finally, in the wee hours of the night/morning, at the Camden Town Subway, Ryan and I finally received the male glances that we had been craving all night.

Except that it was from Subway employees.  And instead of desirous glances, we received some wow-you-broads-are-gluttonous-pigs looks.

And then a fellow Subway customer loudly and vehemently criticized our choice of sauce.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So to sum up, here is what I have learned from Operation Hot Sister:

  • I am repulsive.
  • I should probably never drink tequila again.
  • Chili sauce is not popular at Subway.

In short, Operation Hot Sister was an unmitigated disaster.

Except for the sandwiches.

The sandwiches were delightful.

ESPECIALLY the chili sauce.

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34 Comments

Filed under Misses

34 responses to “Ms. Rock Chick in London

  1. For the record, that blurring picture of me at the bottom is exactly what happens when I dance.
    In case you were curious.
    Any thoughts on what I should do with that dress now? Church events? Weddings? Bowling?
    The possibilities are endless.
    Despite this failure, we aren’t done with thematic evenings, just so you know.
    Sigh.
    At least we’ll always have sandwiches.

    • That dress + leg-warmers combination was made for bowling. With some wrist and head sweatbands, the outfit would be complete. We’d theme it Jane Fonda Bowling Night and go to a bowling alley with disco lights.

      And we would, of course, eat sandwiches.

  2. Pingback: Houston, we have a leg-warmer problem. « Wandering Menace

  3. Bob

    Hi Man-Shopper I had to log in here and check out the pictures after reading all bout it on Zilla’s blog.

    I don’t know about what the men in London are like but here you would have been the centre of attention at any number of bars.
    Perhaps the men in London are way to self absorbed or just plain scared. I seriously doubt that here in Winnipeg you would have walked away un-talked to.

    Canadians are a pretty friendly bunch, and we would have at least come by and checked to see if you were challenged in some way.

    Sounds like you had a hoot though trying out your little science experiment.

    Bob

    • Thanks for the vote of confidence, it is much appreciated. Even though the science experiment went horribly awry, it has renewed my fervor for similar projects — just to prove to the cruel, cruel universe that I can do it.

      It’s a little unfair that everybody loves all Canadians and Americans aren’t half so well-received in the rest of the world. I suppose ya’ll must be THAT awesome?

  4. Interesting. I’m a bit at a loss, as I too would think Operation Hot Sister a success. In theory, anyway.

    Perhaps you tried to hard to be someone you weren’t and it backfired? Boys can pick up on these things, I swear. I say, baby steps in the physical alteration, but keep the change in mental capacity and see what happens…

    In addition, let’s not forget your experience on the subway with your twin. Wounded Bird works well, too…

    • I think that you are right about us being uncomfortable in our outfits/personas. I really hope that it’s the case because the alternative explanation that I am a repulsive cow is just too sad…

      I must try the Wounded Bird persona at some point. Somehow that is going to be much more difficult than playing dumb!

      • Honey, here to tell you “repulsive cow” is not the answer. Just so you know.

        Must try Wounded Bird and let us know how it goes… surely you have a passive-aggressive friend/acquaintance you can learn from.

  5. Pingback: Tweets that mention Ms. Rock Chick in London | Man-shopping in Paris -- Topsy.com

  6. Finally! Someone understands what I am dealing with in London! Trust me, it is not you. The boys here are just weird. Or are really girls. They expect YOU to approach THEM. Those men not looking at you, facing away on their bar stool? Prettily waiting for you to buy them a drink. It’s enough to make any girl question her hot leopard-wearing self. It’s them, I swear. Go back to Paris and kiss the hems of those skinny-jean wearing prats 😉

  7. Anytime food is involved I see that as a winning night.

  8. lol, i agree with Zia

  9. Anonnyc

    I think this is an interesting blog BUT it’s really dreadful that u r using other men for your entertainment. Also you may be lacking some charm yourself with your self righteous American attitude.

    • Yes, I am dreadful. I shamelessly objectify men and amuse myself (as well as others) at their expense. And I have certainly never professed to be charming. In fact, it is public knowledge here on this blog that I am raging hot mess. And regarding the aforementioned facts, I am totally okay with it all!

      I tell myself that my incompetence, coupled with my self-righteous American attitude, is part of my unique “charm” 🙂

  10. mot

    Thank you very much for everything you share Mr. admin guys were good. good work.

  11. A Fellow Yellow

    Hi, just wanted to say thanks for using men as entertainment. I’m married and now officially living vicariously through you.

    Anonnye, if you want to see self-righteous, you should see a lot of the Brits down here on the Riviera. Seriously.

    Anyway, just wanted to add some hard data to the experiment you did in London. I lived in England for 8 months and never got hit on in bars. Ever. I’m not some supermodel or anything but I’m used to at least a bit of attention from the fellas in France and the US. But in England I was 0 for 0. I think maybe they’re just not into the Asian Sensation.

    • Hi there, Fellow Yellow! I hope that you stick around the blog, as I absolutely LOVE saying “Fellow Yellow.”

      I am trying picture Brits frolicking around the Riviera, and the images that come to mind are all pretty entertaining. Perhaps you have some stories to share?

      And honestly, if they aren’t into the Asian Sensation, it’s their loss. We are truly sensational.

  12. I know what the problem is. You were at a bar where there was a man in a speedo in a bar in London in December. Clearly, the patrons were complete lunatics.

    It still sounds like a fun night. I used to play dress up and go out and fuck with people. I may be due for another night like that.

    • Playing dress up should always be on the agenda! I don’t do it often enough, that’s for sure.

      Maybe I should take a cue from Speedo Man for my next dress up experiment…

  13. TheIdiotSpeaketh

    Obviously…EVERY man in London…at least every man you two encountered…was both BLIND and GAY!….. Boy! You two have such great luck…out hitting the pubs in the only GAY and BLIND area of the city! 🙂

    • Aw, thanks for the vote of confidence! At least somebody has confidence in us! Mine, for one, is still severely shaken. My string of bar luck, however, appears to be unchanged.

  14. Hey Man-Shopper and A Fellow Yellow,

    I’ve been in London for over a decade and I can definitely say, its not a case of not being into the Asian Sensation. Its more a case of the fact that the men here are rubbish. And wussy.

    I never get hit on when I’m out and about in London. Seriously, never. Even if I’m wearing my best, sexiest dress. I go abroad to New York or Barbados, for instance, and I get approached by guys ALL of the time.

    Its just the London men, they are truly rubbish!

    • Wussy? Tarnation! I suppose that it was too much to expect that my awesomeness would overcome the innate wussiness of the male population. Damn. How could they possibly resist your best, sexiest dress? What sort of sick, twisted game are they playing?

  15. Gosh darlings LUCKY ESCAPE. It’s Camden i.e. dirty. Just as well, I say. Hold the hope. xx

  16. I’d love to see this experiment played out in NYC; Brooklyn specifically. The results might be shocking ,-)

    oxo
    JFB

  17. Pingback: Ms. London Mojo | Man-shopping in Paris

  18. Claire

    Man shopper, now you know you’re not repulsive! It’s not you, it’s THEM

  19. Sandwiches are amazing. I often think all I need in life is a boy to play mario kart with, handle his business, and then make me a sandwich. How do I not have them swooning for me?

  20. Hahaha. Oh, hun, dressing up “sluttaciously” will get you everywhere in London EXCEPT Camden Town. Seriously, as soon as you mentioned you both headed there, I knew there wasn’t going to be much play. I’d love to see you do this again in London in another area. 😀

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