Things I thought about at the YMCA.

Let's say I hand you my iPod for whatever reason. If you hand it back to me with the volume turned down, I will kill you. When I grab my iPod and I pick a song, I expect to hear something that will shatter my earbuds. I want my rap so ghetto and angry I'm allowed to list my race as black on college applications. What do I get, though? I get the quiet, gentle sound of what may be my music. I don't want the pitter-patter of little feet in my ear when I hit play. I fucking hate kids and their little feet. Don't force that shit on me.

I mean, in retrospect, it'd probably be pretty easy to just turn my iPod up whenever I get it back, but when you do community service at the YMCA, you don't have much else to think about.

On the subject of the Y, I have a three (3) things to put into bullet-list form:

• If by chance any of the 4 people who actually work at the Y read this, stop buying those shitty bulk-ordered rags. I don't care if it costs less - there is nothing more annoying than trying to wipe down mirrors, only to have to start a cat-and-mouse game with the loose bits of cloth that fly off and get stuck to the mirror.

• Dirty mop water is a blessing in disguise. You can mop a floor for hours, but it just looks like you got the floor wet. When you rinse out that mop in the clear water and it turns an ungodly shade of green and black, your heart is filled with joy. You've done a good deed. It's like the cool best friend your older siblings had who would tell them to stop picking on you all the time and give you reassurance. I never had one of those, and I'm sure as hell not one of those, but that's the metaphor that surfaced.

• "My mother used to chew me out for walking on wet floors!" - That bitch who seemingly went out of her way to walk on the floor I just mopped. Your mother may have used to chew you out, but that's because your mother loved you and couldn't bring herself to slap you.

I like to think I'm the YMCA outcast, because it's the coolest title you can have that includes YMCA. That's a thought for another time and another place, though. For now, I will just continue to double-fist a water bottle and a cherry Kool-Aid Jammer.

It's fun to stay at the YMCA. If you're not working there.