I was in New Orleans for the past seven days on a work trip, and naturally when you are on a trip with 400 of your closest male colleagues, a trip to Bourbon street happens.
We are all on a balcony of a restaurant and the guys are out there for hours hootin' & hollerin' while tossing beads to the 1 in 25 women who don't look like manatees from Iowa (seriously, the quality of tourist in that city...blech). Somehow they convince me to try my hand at fishing for boobs.
I reluctantly inch towards the railing, hesitant due to the fact that A. I really don't care about boobs and B. I'm with co-workers, and I start searching for the special lady worthy of my 5 cent strand of beads.
And then I spot her, cute skinny brunette in the pink tu-tu.
I aim and toss them down, bulls-eye, hits her right in the arm.
She looks up smiling...
... I think 'when in Rome' and shout out the classic tagline...
wait...something is a little...off...
uhhh...yeah that's a guy.
Way to pick em'.
I decided to go back inside and stick to the dance floor after that one.
