Dear Mister Man at my gym class who stares at all the women's breasts as if we were there for your exercising entertainment:
We're not. We're exercising too.
Just a few pointers:
That ponytail doesn't make you look virile. It makes you look virulent, and does nothing to hide the fact that the front of your head is bald.
The tan makes you look like an old piece of leather. Or a tortoise. You take your pick.
The t-shirt saying 'If I'm right 98% of the time, who cares about the rest' says it all. You're right about that.
I wasn't staring at you in admiration, I was staring at you to see if I could shame you into looking away. Yay! It worked, but you just shifted your gaze to the next female across.
If I never look at you again, it's not because I fear Your Awsumness, it's because from now on, you don't exist. No biggie.
Have a nice day.
(Oh my, this was the first LOLcat I found this morning. How apt.)