...that people who go to the YMCA in Cambridge have absolutely no awareness of appropriate gym attire. Srsly tho.
Lauren and I have been going to the Y in Cambridge for a little over two months now, and during that time I've gathered quite a bit of data to support my thesis. The evidence below suggests that the majority of YMCA gym-goers are either blind, or get dressed in the dark.
Exhibit A: Purple sweatpants with elastic at the bottom, black socks, and silver ballet flats. That's not even acceptable in the comfort of your own home, let alone at a gym. In public. Where people see you.
Exhibit B: A 70-year-old man who looks like he's 18 months pregnant wearing a tight, gray t-shirt tucked into his spandex is not ok.
Exhibit C: Believe it or not, I've seen quite a few people wearing swim trunks as workout-wear. Although this YMCA does, indeed, have a pool, it also has a locker room in which members may change their clothes. Which means loud, floral print swim trunks in the cardio room are not acceptable. Especially when paired with a t-shirt that says "crabs."
Exhibit D: Capris, argyle socks, and Vans. Since when are Vans considered athletic shoes? It was also a man who was wearing these items. Didn't see that coming, hmm?
Exhibit E: Plaid shorts + sleeveless t-shirt + converse = not a gym outfit.
Exhibit F: Green, plaid pajama pants with "LOVE" on the butt (that were also entirely too tight), pulled up to her belly button, and accompanied by a gray t-shirt tucked in. Woof.
Exhibit G: Gray cargo shorts, a wife beater, high white socks, and snow boots. I've seen this guy five or six times wearing the same exact thing. Now that's just unhygienic.
Exhibit H: This one was my absolute favorite... a black t-shirt with a picture of a panda on it, cargo shorts, high white socks, and black dress shoes. Seriously?
Don't get me wrong here, I'm no gym fashionista. I think it's dumb when people try to look good when they're working out. If you still look good by the end of a work out, you didn't work hard enough. But whatever happened to the trusty gym shorts and a t-shirt look? C'mon people. Stay tuned for additions to this list. It's pretty inevitable.
I will see you there, or I will see you on another time.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
I Hit On A Guy Last Night
...Not to be confused with "I hit a guy last night." There was no physical abuse involved.
Now that that's cleared up, I hit on a guy last night. Lauren, Mark (AKA Big Mac), and I ventured out to some new bars in Union Square. Per usual, our pregame lasted far too long, and we didn't actually leave the apartment until 11pm. First stop: Sally O'Brian's.
I'd passed by that bar before on a Friday night (I was going grocery shopping, don't mistake me for having a social life), and it sounded like it was bumpin', as the kids say. As we were crossing the street, I spied a massive, white beard through the window. We should have turned around as soon as I saw that. The place was full of people my parents' age or older. Don't get me wrong, I actually really enjoy hanging out with my parents and their friends, but this was on another level. They looked like creepy, townie-type old dudes. And we saw a woman sitting at the bar doing a crossword puzzle. At 11:45pm. On a Saturday night. After one beer, we clearly needed to move on. Next stop: Bull McCabe's.
Bull McCabe's is right across the street and has live music every weekend, so we braced ourselves for a cover charge. We decided if there was a cover, we'd rather be spending that money on beer instead of an average band that we might not even like. Of course, the doorman said there was a cover, so Lauren thought up a story and she thought it up quick (the Grinch? Anyone?), and we made like a tree and got the fuck out of there. Last stop: The Independent.
We've been to The Independent a few times, and I've always liked the place. There are actually guys there. Like, a lot of guys. Young guys. So that's nice. I'm very rarely in a place where there are more men than women, so it was very refreshing. The DJ was spinning some sweet sweet 60s/70s funk, and I was diggin' the vibe. We ordered a round of Narragansetts and bellied up. There was a group of girls dancing behind us having a great time, and we knew it was only a matter of a few beers until we'd be tearing it up on the dance floor with them.
In the meantime, I was attempting to lock eyes with a few cute guys across the bar. (This post is way too long already, I'm sorry.) I'm usually not a forward person, I'm too shy/unconfident for that shit. But I was the perfect amount of drunk to feel ballsy enough to approach someone, but not drunk enough to embarrass myself in the process.
After weighing the pros and cons with my trusty roommate, I worked up enough courage to go over and see what his deal was. The worst he could do was say no, and the best would be that I could have a potential date. I decided to take the no-nonsense approach, and the conversation went something like this (And I got the inspiration from here):
Me: Hi. What's your name?
Cute Guy: Andrew.
Me: I'm Jamie. Are you straight?
Andrew: Yes...
Me: Do you work?
Andrew: Yes...
Me: Do you have a girlfriend?
Andrew: Yes...
Me: Well then why isn't she here!
Andrew: She's at home studying.
Me: Ok. Well I just thought you were cute so I figured I'd come say hi.
Andrew: Well thanks, I'm flattered.
Me: Nice to meet you, have a good night!
Obviously it wasn't as awkward as that reads, but you get the picture. Now, usually I'd be filled with sober regret the next morning for an interaction like that, but I'm actually pretty pleased with how it played out. I'm not embarrassed by it, and I'd totally be amused/flattered if someone did that to me. So I got rejected. I then proceeded to cry in the bathroom for 30 minutes. That was a lie. I just continued drinking and dancing, and it was actually one of the better nights out we've had.
What I learned: start out with "are you single," don't end with it. And I GUESS I learned that I'd rather be shot down than not to have tried in the first place. I most likely will be trying this approach again in the future.
kthanksbye.
Now that that's cleared up, I hit on a guy last night. Lauren, Mark (AKA Big Mac), and I ventured out to some new bars in Union Square. Per usual, our pregame lasted far too long, and we didn't actually leave the apartment until 11pm. First stop: Sally O'Brian's.
I'd passed by that bar before on a Friday night (I was going grocery shopping, don't mistake me for having a social life), and it sounded like it was bumpin', as the kids say. As we were crossing the street, I spied a massive, white beard through the window. We should have turned around as soon as I saw that. The place was full of people my parents' age or older. Don't get me wrong, I actually really enjoy hanging out with my parents and their friends, but this was on another level. They looked like creepy, townie-type old dudes. And we saw a woman sitting at the bar doing a crossword puzzle. At 11:45pm. On a Saturday night. After one beer, we clearly needed to move on. Next stop: Bull McCabe's.
Bull McCabe's is right across the street and has live music every weekend, so we braced ourselves for a cover charge. We decided if there was a cover, we'd rather be spending that money on beer instead of an average band that we might not even like. Of course, the doorman said there was a cover, so Lauren thought up a story and she thought it up quick (the Grinch? Anyone?), and we made like a tree and got the fuck out of there. Last stop: The Independent.
We've been to The Independent a few times, and I've always liked the place. There are actually guys there. Like, a lot of guys. Young guys. So that's nice. I'm very rarely in a place where there are more men than women, so it was very refreshing. The DJ was spinning some sweet sweet 60s/70s funk, and I was diggin' the vibe. We ordered a round of Narragansetts and bellied up. There was a group of girls dancing behind us having a great time, and we knew it was only a matter of a few beers until we'd be tearing it up on the dance floor with them.
In the meantime, I was attempting to lock eyes with a few cute guys across the bar. (This post is way too long already, I'm sorry.) I'm usually not a forward person, I'm too shy/unconfident for that shit. But I was the perfect amount of drunk to feel ballsy enough to approach someone, but not drunk enough to embarrass myself in the process.
After weighing the pros and cons with my trusty roommate, I worked up enough courage to go over and see what his deal was. The worst he could do was say no, and the best would be that I could have a potential date. I decided to take the no-nonsense approach, and the conversation went something like this (And I got the inspiration from here):
Me: Hi. What's your name?
Cute Guy: Andrew.
Me: I'm Jamie. Are you straight?
Andrew: Yes...
Me: Do you work?
Andrew: Yes...
Me: Do you have a girlfriend?
Andrew: Yes...
Me: Well then why isn't she here!
Andrew: She's at home studying.
Me: Ok. Well I just thought you were cute so I figured I'd come say hi.
Andrew: Well thanks, I'm flattered.
Me: Nice to meet you, have a good night!
Obviously it wasn't as awkward as that reads, but you get the picture. Now, usually I'd be filled with sober regret the next morning for an interaction like that, but I'm actually pretty pleased with how it played out. I'm not embarrassed by it, and I'd totally be amused/flattered if someone did that to me. So I got rejected. I then proceeded to cry in the bathroom for 30 minutes. That was a lie. I just continued drinking and dancing, and it was actually one of the better nights out we've had.
What I learned: start out with "are you single," don't end with it. And I GUESS I learned that I'd rather be shot down than not to have tried in the first place. I most likely will be trying this approach again in the future.
kthanksbye.
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