I’m used to receiving the arty shirtless pics, and weenie-cam, and plenty of other forms of Internet skeeviness. But this particular photo freaked me out completely.
Here’s why: I couldn’t figure out who took the picture.
Did Captain Underpants ask his roommate to take it? “Dude, I need you to take a photo of me. Hold on a sec, I've gotta sprawl seductively on this bed in my briefs.” Or he had a friend come over to help him out. Maybe they made a man-date of it, taking turns lounging about in their underwear and snapping photos. Then, to counteract the potential gayness of the whole enterprise, they went out to a strip club or to beat up some nerds.
Or, more likely, he used a tripod and a timer. Fiddle, fiddle, punch some buttons, dash over to the bed, and get into a supine position before the timer goes off. I bet he had a whole photo shoot, and got in an awesome workout from all the dashing about.
Aw, hell, I just figured out the most likely photographer of all: his wife.
Any man who tells you he can “host,” at a hotel, in Reston, and sends out a blurry-faced photo of himself is most assuredly married.