Time was, relieving yourself at Lala's was like walking into the Yellow Rose: The men's room was plastered with posters of waxy, busty babes in poses both tawdry and revealing. Imagine our surprise when, the last time we went to (ahem) "see a man about a horse" in that fine old bar, we were greeted instead by soothing turquoise walls and an artful painting of the sun. Striking a blow for the feminist cause? "Nah," says proprietor Frances Lala. "We had to change. Every time we put those posters up, people would steal them." Either way, it's an improvement.
