Cowboys Are My Weakness

A friend of mine, who has been around women whose profession it is to look good, told me about a woman who's body was so fine he wouldn't know what to do with it. Yeah, yeah, sure, I believe you, whatever. And then I spent this weekend at the New Frontier surrounded by cowboys and felt the same.

These boys are corn fed.

Their jeans are filled tight with muscle, their crisp collared shirts are tucked in, and the Stetsons on their head look like they came straight out of the box.

I wouldn't know what to do with one if I had one. And for better or worse, I wouldn't want to take his clothes off. I'd just want to look at him in this gorgeous get up, maybe put my hand around a big bicep, and just smile until I figured out if I was the kind of woman that could get him to a point where he'd take his hat off. Then I'd ask him to put it back on.

Mmmm....cowboys.

My grandfather wore these clothes. And he painted western scenes. Maybe that's why I like these strapping gents of patriotism and constitution so much. I don't know.

Anyway, I don't have a camera and I've already lost several wonderful shots including a boy of about ten who was practicing his lasso at the Four Corners as he rounded the Caesars fountain. He wasn't polished, it was as if he was told he had to carry it with him the whole year long no matter where he was till he got used to the feel.

There's a lot to blog about. I only just got internet access. Now, it's a night of being a poker scenester before I head into a hellish work week of eating and checking out hotels.

And yes, the BBE is the BBE for not wincing a bit when I said I was going to the NFR on a girl's trip. That's why he's the BBE, FREE eyeful!!! Or at leat I haven't had to start paying for it yet. (No elipses because BJ hates them) :-)

Current: Vegas
Next: Burbank on the night of the 16th.