So I was sitting outside this afternoon, enjoying a cart-bought sausage in a bun between Games Convention appointments, when this car / boat thing comes pulling round the bend, filled with hooting, whistling, scantily clad women. It was like the world's most tawdry ice cream truck, only they gave out coupons for a local strip club instead of ice cream, and as you can see in the photo above, the kids don't seem all that interested. The expression on the blue-shirt guy's face is just priceless. He cares not for your booty, shaken, stirred, or otherwise. Not that most of the pics I snapped were from the back, because I simply refuse to be the guy running through the parking lot chasing a boat full of half-dressed females - mainly because it involves running. At least it wasn't as personal as last year.
It's Not Games Convention Until The Stripper-Mobile Arrives
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