About a month ago, shortly after we moved out here to California, I wrote of Ski Cap McFuck, the asswipe from my gym.
Well, tonight he returned.
I know … I know—it’s generally not OK to photograph folks at the gym. I get it. I get it. But the world is filled with exceptions, and I call for mine when it comes to Ski Cap McFuck.
In case you don’t recall, you know Ski Cap McFuck—even if you don’t know this Ski Cap McFuck. He’s the guy who struts around the gym, looking in the mirror every eight seconds, arms in permanent flex mode, dressed like some sort of Xena the Warrior Princess-inspired buffoon. Tonight, Ski Cap McFuck bettered himself in the wardrobe department. Along with the executioner-styled hood, he went with the double nipple-exposed shirt. I’m guessing this is because Ski Cap McFuck finds his nipples particularly interesting or, maybe, merely phenomenal. I’m unsure.
The best part of Ski Cap McFuck is that he knows people are watching. Only he probably doesn’t get why. While, oh, maybe two or three stragglers observe because he lifts large weights, I’m pretty sure the majority of us revel in his clueless arrogance. It’s a brilliant show; one that, I’m quite certain, will go on and on and on and on and …