More Gym Favorites

My workouts may be dull, but the people at the YMCA are the salt of the earth. It’s one of the best places for people-watching ever.


This week’s YMCA’s Greatest Hits are: 

  • The woman who still owns a Discman
  • The woman in the sari, dangle earrings, and glasses-with-chain who was killing it on the treadmill
  • The weight-lifting old man in the argyle sweater

I’m sure if they were describing me, they’d call me “that girl who sometimes sings out loud with her headphones because she forgets she’s in public.”

My love affair with my shitty car.

At the auto service shop…
Me: “I’m here to pick up my majestic Dodge Neon.”
Man behind counter: (starts laughing hysterically)
Me: (deadpan) “I don’t understand what’s so funny.”

I love my car. Truly, transcendentally love my car. It’s ripped up in the back and covered in liberal bumper stickers.

I like that I don’t have to worry about it, because it’s already trashed by its very nature.

The front bumper is all cracked up. When I asked the car people if it would pass inspection, they said “yes, but it won’t be very pretty.” Ha. I said, “Okay. Leave it as-is.”

I backed into a dumpster once. My friends freaked out; but I laughed it off, because, like, it’s not like the situation could get much worse, right?


I also really dig shitty art supplies. Like, the $5 watercolor cake sets and the 64-packs of Crayola crayons. The acrylics I use are called “Basic Value Color.”

These drawings? All of the above, applied to printer paper.


I hypothesize that, as a teenager, I took Fight Club‘s “the things you own, own you” line a little too seriously.

“Fine,” I said to myself, “I won’t own anything nice, then. No biggie.”


Except my phone. My phone is pretty nice, except for, perhaps, its silicone panda case. YOLO.