September 07, 2004

My Own Project Mayhem

Apparently I have found that small demographic that has never seen a band-aid, and they were all at my YMCA tonight.

1st Fellow YMCA-er: Wow, what's that on your forehead?
Me: A band-aid... I have a bee sting.

2nd Fellow YMCA-er: Hurt your head, huh? Is that a band-aid?
Me: Yes... bee sting.

3rd Fellow YMCA-er: Whatever have you got on your head?
Me: It's a band-aid, on my bee sting.

4th Fellow YMCA-er: You've got a... huh, a band-aid... what'd you do?
Me: The first rule of Fight Club is, you do not talk about Fight Club.
4th Fellow YMCA-er: What?
Me: *stepping closer* The second rule of Fight Club is, YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT FIGHT CLUB.
4th Fellow YMCA-er: Um... gotta go see... uh... yeah...

Sometimes the oblique approach is the most satisfying.

Posted by LeeAnn at 08:14 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

July 25, 2004

Taking the C-L Out of Class

So, I'm taking this Intro To Cycling class at the Y, because I am, as we all know, not an Outdoors Type Person and therefore don't normally have much truck with them bicycle things.
Fad. I'm telling you, it's just a fad.

The instructor, who is 6 feet tall and dared to complain that her body fat was a whopping 12%, had us each introduce ourselves and explain why we're interested in taking up cycling.
There were the expected answers, for the most part..."for my health".... "to get back into shape".... "to have a reason to go daily to the Pro Bike Shop and hit on the hot salesguy" (distrubing only because it was said by a 72 year old granny lady, who distinctly leered as she said it.)

When it was my turn, I said "To get rid of my enormous ass."
The instructor gasped. "You can't say "ass" here! This is the YMCA!"

Me: "I can't say 'ass'?"
Instructor: "No, you aren't supposed to say things like that at the Y. It's a family place!"
Me: "Say things like what?"
Instructor: "Like 'ass'. You can't say that."
Me: "So I can't use the word 'ass'. What if I fall off the bike and hurt my ass? What should I say?"
Instructor: "You could say 'bottom' or 'behind'. But know."
Me: "I should say bottom or behind instead of 'ass', is that right?"
Instructor: "Yes, instead of ass."
Me: "Nobody can say 'ass' at the Y, then?"
Instructor: *very wearily* "Right."
Granny lady: "Even us older folk can't say 'ass'?"
Instructor: "NO! Nobody say 'ass'! Everybody, stop saying 'ass' right now!" *panting with frustration*
Entire class, suddenly rebellious: "ASS! ASS! ASS!"
Instructor: "Oh shit."
Granny lady: "You can't say 'shit'! This is the Y!"

I think we get a new instructor next week.

Posted by LeeAnn at 04:24 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

June 28, 2004

Relax, Don't Do It

We had a substitute instructor in yoga class today.
He was..... different. Rather the way a one-legged stripper is different.... that little bit of missing part subtly affects the performance.
This guy's missing part was his verbal editor.
Things he said:

"Okay, close your eyes, visualize your center, energizing white light... yadda yadda yadda."

"Don't forget to breathe. Breathing is the key to good yoga. If you don't breathe, you die and I have to do paperwork."

"Okay, lift your leg and pull your knee toward your head, like a cat does. No licking."

"Who farted? It's okay, I'm sure the Buddha farted too..... man, that stinks."

Posted by LeeAnn at 07:46 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

June 22, 2004


Philosophical conversation overheard at the gym, between two Upwardly Mobile Young Businesswomen about the show on the TV in the treadmill area, concerning Spring Break scandals and summer hijinks among college students.

UMYB 1: "Wonder what happens to them?"
UMYB 2: "Who?"
UMYB 1:"Those girls. The ones in the wet t-shirt contests and the sunlotion queen contests and mudwrestling and riding the mechanical bull and getting tattoos and all that."
UMYB 2: "Oh. Them." *said with as much certified class-distinction disdain as she could muster while sweating like a pig in a designer tracksuit*
UMYB 1:"Yeah... wonder what happens to them later in life? Where do they go? What do they become?"
UMYB 2: "No idea. Who cares?"

I can tell you, ladies... they become me.
And thank you for playing Who Spit In My Water Bottle When I Was Busy Being A Snob?
1. For the record, I did all those things in my youth, and more, and had as much fun as you could pack into the years before I grew up and became a Responsible Adult.
2. Which should be happening any time now.
3. Maybe.

Posted by LeeAnn at 03:44 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack