Tag: ymca

I’m Back! And Not Any Better Than Ever…

Well, it’s not like I actually make resolutions to start the year – but I am going to try posting on a more regular basis after the holiday doldrums. But really, what could I have posted between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day? “Drank heavily last night, ate breakfast at Chow, spent afternoon on sofa watching a Law & Order marathon, got take-out for dinner.”

But I am trying to get back into fighting form. Limited myself to two glasses of cava tonight – due largely to that’s all I had in my apartment, but still… In my defense, though, I stopped at Whole Foods on the way home and did not purchase any wine. A first!

Also went to the Y tonight for the first time since November. I was happy to discover it was not mobbed with new members attempting to fulfill their preposterous resolutions to get in shape. I had mixed feelings, however, about the fact that the place is still filled with the same assortment of freaks and weirdos. To wit:

  •  Creepy McCreeperson continued his campaign of repeatedly and unabashedly undressing me with his eyes.
  •  Standing-Too-Close Lady was in the weightlifting area, invading my personal bubble while doing her weird and far too vigorous stretching exercises.
  •  Kinda-Cute-Possibly-Gay Dude put two 5-lb weights on the bench press and then proceeded to sit on the bench reading a magazine for 15 minutes. I never saw him lift. Not cute.
  •  Aspiring-Muscle-Head eschewed clipping the weights onto the bar while bench pressing – and immediately sent two 75-lb weights crashing to the floor when he lost control of the bar.
  • Old-Guy-With-Really-Horrible-Toenail-Fungus spent 10 minutes using the hand dryer to dry his feet and sandals. While nude, of course.

Eh, all par for the course I suppose. I guess I’ll get used to it again (yeah, right). Happy New Year!

There oughta be a law…

Was at the Y tonight after work. Nothing out of the ordinary – just the usual assortment of freaks and jackasses. My particular peeve tonight was the jerks who  monopolize one of the few weight benches by laying their towel, dumbbells, iPhone (natch), etc. on it, but then just stand next to it kibitzing with some other d’bag rather than actually lifting any weights…

Anyway, pretty much par for the course – it barely elicited a muttered string of obscenities from me… Little did I know, the true outrage and horror was yet to come.

So, I’m in the locker-room (I know – gross) after taking a shower, minding my own business. Then, as I was dressing, I glanced to my right – and at the end of the row of lockers is a huge mirror in which I can see reflected my completely undraped head-to-toe profile. Jesus Christ! Who wants to look at that? I did manage to stifle my screams, but just barely…

It was pretty much like this - only not as attractive or muscular.

Honestly, wouldn’t you think that anyone in charge of designing a locker-room would ensure that one only encounters mirrors when one seeks them out, rather than being unpleasantly surprised by being forced to view the monstrous results of 29 years (ahem) of hard living and gravity? Oy…

Anyway, I’m part way through a box of wine in an attempt to erase that image from my mind. So far it’s not working…

Back to the Y

So, after a months-long hiatus, I finally made it back to the gym today. With all of my various trips, ailments, bouts of laziness and tobacco-assisted weight control, I’d managed to avoid the YMCA since sometime last summer. But the combination of holiday gluttony and the almost-but-not-entirely-successful resolution to kick the nicotine habit resulted in a shocking and horrifying run-in with my scale last week: a six pound gain – all of it in my belly, natch, i.e. I still have scrawny arms and a flat ass, but they’re now combined with a protruding belly. Yes, I’m bringing the hawtness…

Anyway, I was sure the Y would be especially horrible. January is the worst month, since everyone is acting on their resolution to get in shape – and most of them are annoying newbies who hog the equipment they don’t know how to use, courting injury and annoying the regulars. But the gym was blessedly empty and I was in and out with nary a problem. Granted, I only did cardio, so I didn’t have to do battle in the free weight area for a bench – but I did have plenty of room on the stretching mats post-elliptical-machine. I even managed to avoid eye-contact with Mr. I’m-Raping-You-With-My-Eyes (yes, of course he’s still there all the time…)

But I should’ve known it was too good to last. I got back to the locker room which was nearly empty – except for some dude using the locker directly next to mine. Ugh. Honestly, when there are plenty of empty lockers, doesn’t it make sense to choose one that is not right next to one already occupied? Apparently not…  But whatever, shit happens I guess. Except he was humming. Yes, that’s right – humming! And no, he didn’t let up – not once. Just stone-cold humming, humming and humming. I think I muttered, “Shut the fuck up.” And by “muttered”, I mean “said aloud in what most people consider a normal conversational volume” (normal conversational volume for me, as all who know me are aware, is shouting. But he just kept on humming and tra-la-la-ing…)

Then a couple of other chatty dudes showed up. And one of them launched into a monologue about having to wait for a “lockbox” (i.e. the penny lockers outside the locker room to store one’s wallet and phone) since they were all full. He couldn’t use the ones on the gym floor, since that would’ve required walking up a flight of stairs (I know! God forbid one should exert oneself at the gym!). So he had to sit and wait for ten minutes until one of the “lockboxes” was vacated. He kept saying “lockbox” over and over again. Seriously, I don’t think even Al Gore used the word “lockbox” that many times. And Al Gore certainly didn’t have to tolerate any nude humming in his vicinity…

Anyway, I’ll be back tomorrow as I continue my concerted effort to minimize my striking resemblance to Jabba the Hut. Good times!

Back to the Y

So, after a several-week-long hiatus, I hit the gym after work tonight.  And it’s the same as it ever was…  Nothing really out of the ordinary, just the usual assortment of freaks and annoying people (why do straight guys have to talk so loud and for so long about nothing in the locker room?).

And I managed to do nearly my whole 30 minutes on the elliptical machine.  I stopped a few minutes early when I saw my left ventricle protruding through my rib cage – though it seems to be fine now…

But there is a really delightful new feature in the urinals in the men’s locker room (well, I guess that’s redundant – you ladies don’t have urinals, do you?).  They have new urinal liners – and through some diabolical combination of perforations and ridges, the liner does more than just protect the drain – it delivers a nice spray-back of urine onto the user’s legs, regardless of where one aims.  It’s sort of the toilet version of a dribble cup…  And it’s a real treat, let me tell you!  Keep up the good work, YMCA!

Just when I think I’ve seen it all…

Saw a guy in the locker room at the Y (natch).  He was nude, save for a dress shirt (and I should point out that wearing only a shirt and nothing else is always way pervier than strutting around nude), perched on one of the communal stools (with full-contact between the seat and his twig-and-berries, taint and b-hole), one foot on the floor, the other perched on the edge of the seat – so he could clip his toenails…

Trying to decide whether this was more or less bizarre than the time I saw a guy in front of the sinks in the locker room coloring his hair – complete with plastic gloves and easy-application tube of shoe-polish brown (Miss Clairol No. 47, I think…)

Also, I will never, ever, ever understand the members at the Y who wait for the interminably slow elevator, only to ride up one floor to the workout floor and then climb onto the StairMaster… “Unclear on the concept” doesn’t even begin to describe it…

Christ-on-his-throne – what the hell is wrong with people?

Yes, I’m complaining about the Y again…

OK, I’m actually complaining about the patrons…  To wit:

  • The lady who was sitting in the middle of the highly-populated stretching area whilst reading a novel.  And, no, she was not stretching – just kicking back and gettin’ her read on.  I did my best to get my sweaty fumes wafting in her direction…
  • The guy who repeatedly spent ten minutes hunched over his Blackberry in front of the penny-lockers, constantly checking his what were sure-to-have-been very important text messages – presumably along the lines of “I’m working out – what about you?”  This was annoying in-and-of-itself – but he was also blocking my access to my preferred corner for stretching my scrawny arms….
  • The dude in the locker adjacent to mine, who required three stools and a four-foot radius to spread out his various towels, gym clothes, salves and unguents, while I daintily tried to squeeze past to doff my gear.
  • The pièce de résistance: the dread-locked fellow who emerged shiny and dripping from the steam room and then parked himself in the passage to the showers and vigorously and repeatedly whipped his head forward and back, spraying all and sundry (including yours truly) with the effluvia from his grimy braids.  Seriously, my gag reflex got quite the workout – I should’ve just puked on him.  Oh, he was also directly in front of the towel hooks, so all the poor saps who’d hung their towels whilst showering were treated to an unwitting rub down with his tonsorial essences.

I will never understand people…

Why, Y?

Jeez, it’s only Tuesday and the patrons at the YMCA have already outdone themselves…  Yesterday’s highlights included somebody singing in the locker room; somebody else doing his elaborate stretching routine in the locker room; and some dude using the sink to rinse out the copious bodily excretions accumulated in his sauna suit…

And today, unbeknownst to me, was apparently “If You’re an Unattractive Homo Who Doesn’t Know How to Check Out Guys Discreetly, Then Be Sure to Molest Eric With Your Eyes While He Is Minding His Own Business and Just Trying to Finish His Lame-Ass Workout… And Also Be Sure to Get in His Way A Lot So He’ll Be Even More Irritated” Day. I wish they’d’ve put this on the calendar so I could’ve skipped it…

On the plus side though, I finally introduced myself to the cute guy who works there…  Regrettably, this did not result in being asked out on a date…  Nor did it take place in the showers while we were soaping each other up…  Maybe next time…