The Boobie Magnet

It’s no secret that I’ve been accused of being obsessed with breasts.  In fact, before this blog was six months old, I published a blog post with the title, “You’re Obsessed With Bosoms!” which was a quote from Prudence, an accusation she shouted at me from across a couple of poker tables the first time she saw me after reading my blog for the very first time, not long after I told the story of our first poker session together (which had virtually no discussion of poker).

This is absurd.  I’m not obsessed with bosoms.  The reality is that it is women who are obsessed with their own breasts.  And possibly other women’s breasts.  And I can prove it. 

Before the blog was a month old, I posted this story about a woman who brought up her boobs right at the poker table for no apparent reason.  She did more than talk about them—she grabbed them right in front of the rest of us.  That story actually took place before I started blogging, and was in fact one of the stories that I had told my friends that got them to encourage me to start a blog to share stories just like that one with the world.

Since then, there have been plenty of “boobs mentionings” posted here. And in many, if not most of these stories, the person mentioning the boobs is in fact the owner of said boobs.  Or perhaps it’s a woman discussing another woman’s boobs, or boobs in general.  .

I’m now back home from my most recent visit to Vegas, and I must say, this last trip I came back with a double-D cup size full of boobs mentionings.  I already wrote about Denise telling the table about her “perfect rack” (see here).  A few days later, I ran into another woman who mentioned her rack—and revealed her bra size—a coming blog post that I teased here.  Even a very pleasant, seemingly refined dinner with fellow bloggers Lucki Duck and Lightning couldn’t end before a woman discussed breasts right at our dinner table.  In this case, the woman was Mrs. Duck and the breasts she discussed belonged to a Vegas street performer.  That story will be coming soon to this blog, but it may actually be overshadowed by something that happened later that night.  I won a big pot with the dreaded pocket Kings. Yeah, the boobs might not be the lead in that post.  A woman discussing breasts seems to happen to me all the time.  Winning a hand with pocket Kings?  Now that’s rare.

Which brings us to my last day in town, when I scored a pair of boob mentionings.  First, there was the female dealer at a major Strip poker room who told the story of her being bribed to deal the game with her top off.  Right in the middle of the poker room.  Seriously. I'm still debating in my mind whether to give the full details or if I need to avoid revealing the name of the poker room and some of the specifics in order to protect this lady's identity.

And then there was my night session.  The woman I described two paragraphs above as having revealed to us her bra size was back in the same poker room and may just have given me the mother of all boob mentionings.  In fact, she did a whole lot more than just mention them.  She showed them.  Well, not quite.  But she did pull her top down at least five times, pulling it below her bra, revealing said bra.  Which turned out to be purple.  And at least twice, she stuck her hands inside her bra and “tucked them in.”  (Edited to add, the entire story of this night has now been told, and you can find it here) 

Ordinarily I wouldn’t “spoil” my own (future) post by revealing the climax prematurely (because a premature climax tends not to go over well).  But just this once, I decided to tweet about it while the story was actually taking place to see what reaction I could get, and to help tease the inevitable 25 page blog post that this night will spawn.  Besides, the twitter feed from the previous day contributed mightily to my previous blog post and basically wrote the post for me (see here). So I figured I’d send out a tweet and see if it got any reaction.

It did.  A few of my male twitter followers demanded that I take a picture of the girl revealing her bra.  When I get around to doing the full post, I’ll explain why that didn't happen.  And a couple of women—one of whom I don’t think I’ve ever met—tweeted back that they were not the bra-flashers.  Which was funny because I never accused them of that!

But one tweet that got me thinking about came from Shannon, one of the most prolific poker tweeters (that really sounds dirty, but it’s not).  Actually, Shannon has already been mentioned in a previous blog post, but because I was being my usual self, I gave her a phony name.  I should have a contest for readers to figure out which post Shannon appeared in and what the fake name I gave her was.  But sadly, I have no prize to offer, so I won't do that.

Anyway, Shannon tweeted to me, “LOL!! Whats with you and the ladies at your table goin boobie crazy!!??”

Indeed, it was a very good question.  Apparently there are some women out there who don’t think it’s normal for other women to discuss their boobies at the poker table.

I tweeted back, “What can I say? I'm a boobie magnet.”

Yes.  That’s me.  The “boobie magnet.”

There is clearly something about me that brings out the boobs.

And they do more than just talk about them in front of me, right?   Sometimes, a woman takes a picture of another woman’s cleavage, right in front of me (see here).  Or women come up to me while I’m minding my own business and demand that I take a picture of their cleavage (see here).  Or a woman buries her face in another woman’s cleavage right in front of me (see here). Or a chick grabs her friend’s oversized boobies right outside a casino restaurant, right in front of me (see here).

I didn’t do anything to stimulate any of these incidents, they just happened while I was around.

I’m beginning to wonder if they happened because I was around. 

Hmm.

The Boobie Magnet.

Anyway, the good news is that the lady in question said quite a few other memorable things, both about her boobs and other racy topics, so I don’t think I’ve spoiled my upcoming post at all.

And upcoming is what it will be.  Now that I’m back in town, I hope to do some serious blogging in a futile attempt to catch up.  I now have three Vegas trips with untold stories to relate.  I wish I had them organized but sadly, I don’t.  And now that I’m using recordings, it actually takes longer to find and write up the stories I want to tell.  So expect me to jump around and tell the stories in no particular order.  I just don't know where to begin, I truly have an embarrassment of riches.  Hopefully nothing will interfere with my intention to spend most evenings blogging. 

I’m sure my next few posts will be the kind of extra long posts that you’ve all been craving.  I can’t tell you how many complaints I’ve recently gotten about how short my posts have been lately.

This latest trip had more than just boobs mentionings to report about.  There were some interesting poker hands, some huge pots, dinners with bloggers, burgers served to us by women in lingerie and stories about my new found celebrity status.  And probably stuff I’ve forgotten until I play back my voice notes.

Stay thirsty my friends.  I mean, stay tuned.