The YMCA has changed since I was a kid

I remember hanging out at the YMCA when I was but a wee lass [Ed. Update: this was a failed attempt at humor… three people have now commented. Yes, I know the difference between lass and lad]. Mostly I remember the swimming pool, which I mostly experienced while blurry-eyed and gasping for air from being the smallest kid in the pond, so to speak. Then again, there was a lot of soccer, which I think I was better at, and WATCHING soccer, a task at which I truly excelled. I occasionally snuck into the cardio rooms but they were unexciting affairs with machines that made funny noises and were impossible to adjust to my personal stature.

I’ve managed to make it out to the gym a few times lately, and I’m getting a little better at it. Tonight, I threw down for a long treadmill run. Yes, yes, the sign SAYS limit 30 minutes, but there was noone in the room, literally, so I didn’t see the harm. I got my pace going. I introduced myself to the system so it could track just how out of shape I was, and I even got my headset working, which was a coup since the last couple of times the rechargeable battery died before I could even get started. And then, alone, in the Y, I started watching the TV.

I had never actually watched an episode of “The Girls Next Door”, and, frankly, this did not seem to be the time nor place to start. In point of fact, I didn’t actually know that the show was about the girls in the Playboy mansion. Now you do too! How nice. I was familiar with the publication, don’t get me wrong — one of our illustrious college roommates had it delivered (Don’t worry, dude, I’ve lost the blackmail photos and I think everyone knows anyway, but I’ve got your back), and, hey, it’s all but impossible to cancel a magazine subscription, yes? If memory serves, we also got Cosmo that year, so,… yeah.

The TV show is like the magazine, but with no articles and the picture moves. While there was some garbled closed captioning at the YMCA, I couldn’t hear anything and didn’t read along. My guess is that this approach improved the show dramatically. Whoever does censoring for the E! channel is a true artist. The “blurring” was done with such grace that it didn’t look like there was any editing at all… mostly it seemed like people running around who genetically had no nipples and just a solid (but smooth) mass around the pelvis.

So, basically, I spent the evening at the YMCA (The C is for “Christian”) watching androgynous porn. Oh, and jogging.

I ran quite a bit further today than I have in the past… I’m guessing it was the new battery in the headphones that made the difference.

—Chip