BIOP, we all know you would show up, grab a beer, see some pussy and head directly to pervert's row. You'd lean back, stare at the stripper with an expression that tells her she's a sexy little whore and you might give her the honor of one of your fucks. You'd then realize you forgot to shower, and maybe that ratty '93 World Champions shirt with the grimy pit stains wasn't the best choice to wear to a TD meet. Narf would run up to you, with 47 in tow (not knowing who you are yet, of course, because you never checked in with the boys at the bar) and put his arm around you and smile for the camera 47 is holding his hand.
Once the picture is taken Narf will undoubtedly high five Remy, interrupting his vigil at the TV watching Sportsnet, and walk away saying "Dude I just got another random picture for the site" and 47 would laugh and exclaim "Wah wah wee wah" and pay for a lap dance. Cock out, of course. By now, Demarcio undoubtedly has his shirt off and Auron is stealing quick glances, hoping no one notices.
Then I stroll in, tell you there is 50 cent beers at the bar for the next three minutes (not knowing who you are), and as you run to the bar I take your seat. I take off my jacket, exposing my cliched "The man.. the legend" shirt, set my beer on Omissions back (by now he is sprawled out on the floor by the seat next to me) and slide my left hand down the front of my pants, settling in for the show...
Sorry. I was bored.