At the gym earlier today, I hadn't been in there for more than 15 seconds when I spot a clown in the power rack pretending to lift heavy weight and attempting to establish himself as a HARDCORE squatter, ostensibly to impress a big-assed mom doing lunges next to him

.
My concentration on my own lifts became shaken as I couldn't help but to notice his oversized sweats falling off his ass along with matching hoodie as he bent his knees no more than 20 degrees for a BRUTAL 225 pound semi-partial-half of a quarter rep. As if this alone wasn't entertaining enough, he let out a MONSTEROUS yell of LEGENDARY caliber that could only rival Young Louie training in Manhattan with father/trainer Matty.
After taking special care to audibly place the bar back on the rack with as much force as possible, he turned around, saw that I was staring at him with particular wonderment, and gave me a HARDCORE nod of accomplishment and bad-assness, and rode off into the sunset.
My day is complete.