This is the only picture even remotely resembling a boob shot that will ever appear on this blog. But first, a disclaimer. This is not an accurate representation of my boobage. I'm wearing a Victoria's Secret push-up bra with strategically placed silicone fillers. And yeah, those came with the bra. I'm also squeezing them together a little bit to enhance any imaginary cleavage. What I'm trying to say, is I'll never be featured in Jugs Magazine. But, for what it's worth, I present you the first and only annecentral boob shot. Really, I just wanted a good picture of my four leaf clover. The below is what happens when you have a dude take the shot.
As you guessed, that was on St. Patrick's Day, which we celebrated at Timmy Nolan's Irish Pub. My clover was a "temp tattoo" sticker that I bought on a whim earlier in the day. I have no decent green clothing, so I thought that was a great solution. That shot was taken at Bob's Big Boy just after the fun that consisted of moments like this.
The man on the right is a British friend of Shannon's who he ran into there. A fun, positive guy. The beauty on the left (my right) is Emerson, who works there and whom we've befriended over the years. We took one last St. Patrick's Day and had to keep the tradition going.
The place was packed on both floors, and even more so when a bagpipe band, dressed in kilts and full regalia stormed the joint and started playing, much to the crowd's delight. It really was a wonderful moment, and they played a few songs to lifted drinks and applause. In the setting, the celebration and show of Irish culture, it really gave one chills to be a part of it. I managed to snap a few shots of them, which wasn't an easy feat since there was no room to move, but that hot, sweaty close quarters is also what made it a great experience. I can't believe they got in there with that gigantic drum you see on the left. There were three or four pipe players, a bass drum and swinging tenor drum.
A funny part of the night was when a woman saw the guy she was dating at the bar with another girl. Whoops! Boy did she explode, right in front of us, calling the guy all sorts of names as his date hid behind him. She wasn't mad at the girl, because thankfully, she was one of the few girls who realized it's the two-timer's fault, not the person they are two-timing with. That is, unless the "other" girl knows he's cheating. Then, by all means blame her too. In this case, they both didn't know the other existed and sympathized with each other. Even funnier, was some random guy was passing by and heard her screaming, then turned around and apologized to her because he thought he'd brought on her tirade. The two-timer had little to say, just took his medicine and shrunk back into the crowd of happy drunks.