My husband's step-son from a previous marriage plays in a band and he invited us to come watch them perform at a local sports bar on Saturday night. Now, I'm not much of a bar person and I don't stay up past 9:30, so I was feeling pretty much put-upon with this whole plan.
Then I found out the band was part of the entertainment line-up for the bar's annual "Bikin' 4 Boobz" event. Oh my. Heart be still. Motorcycles AND boobs??
But we knew Don would be so pleased if we showed up, so off we went. (I didn't wear any makeup, though. I wanted to be ready for bed as soon as we got home.)
We had driven by the bar earlier that day and were stunned by the number of motorcycles in the parking lot. They had a huge crowd!
At 10:00, however, the event was winding down and those smart bike owners were home in bed. The only ones left at the bar were the regulars, still trying to hang onto the magic of the boob festival. Women were sporting strings of party beads - do we want to know how they earned those? - and wore event tank tops reading, "Hanging onto them for life," with skeleton hands strategically placed over the breasts. Men wore t-shirts that read, "We stare because we care."
For a person who loves to watch people, this was heaven. I was fascinated by the gritty, bleached hair women with over-exposed breasts being hit upon by middle-aged men with shirts unbuttoned to the navel. Slinky guys lurked near the doorways and very drunk young women danced seductively, seemingly unaware they were alone.
It was all such a delightfully tawdry spectacle and I was happily entertained for a good hour until Clay decided he'd had enough of my elbow nudging and pointing, and we left.
At home I fell into bed and dreamed I was cruising down the open road on my Harley, skeleton hands cupping my breasts and party beads streaming out behind me in the wind.
Jack-sons' Bikin' 4 Boobz event drew more than 420 bikes and they raised $22,000 for the Susan B. Komen Foundation. Wow!
Then I found out the band was part of the entertainment line-up for the bar's annual "Bikin' 4 Boobz" event. Oh my. Heart be still. Motorcycles AND boobs??
But we knew Don would be so pleased if we showed up, so off we went. (I didn't wear any makeup, though. I wanted to be ready for bed as soon as we got home.)
We had driven by the bar earlier that day and were stunned by the number of motorcycles in the parking lot. They had a huge crowd!
At 10:00, however, the event was winding down and those smart bike owners were home in bed. The only ones left at the bar were the regulars, still trying to hang onto the magic of the boob festival. Women were sporting strings of party beads - do we want to know how they earned those? - and wore event tank tops reading, "Hanging onto them for life," with skeleton hands strategically placed over the breasts. Men wore t-shirts that read, "We stare because we care."
For a person who loves to watch people, this was heaven. I was fascinated by the gritty, bleached hair women with over-exposed breasts being hit upon by middle-aged men with shirts unbuttoned to the navel. Slinky guys lurked near the doorways and very drunk young women danced seductively, seemingly unaware they were alone.
It was all such a delightfully tawdry spectacle and I was happily entertained for a good hour until Clay decided he'd had enough of my elbow nudging and pointing, and we left.
At home I fell into bed and dreamed I was cruising down the open road on my Harley, skeleton hands cupping my breasts and party beads streaming out behind me in the wind.
Jack-sons' Bikin' 4 Boobz event drew more than 420 bikes and they raised $22,000 for the Susan B. Komen Foundation. Wow!
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