For some reason these last two weeks my body has just given me a huge F you and laughed at me while I sit there and cry. At the moment, I'm sitting here with my leg elevated, gracefully showing off the bag of ice I've Saran Wrapped to the top of my foot. I went for a run two days ago with one of my company's ultra-fit slinky marathoners (uphill both ways... not even kidding) and the next morning I woke up with a sore and swollen foot. Gross, I know. I could run the gammet of things to blame for this, but that's just annoying, so I'm sucking it up and probably will go for another run tomorrow. I'm going to assume that by the time my feet decide to fall off, I'll be able to get sweet prosthetics that are even better than real feet so I'm actually doing myself a favor.
WELL. Despite this foot biz, I went to the gym last night (because I needed an excuse to sit in the sauna). So, here's the backstory before I continue:
Within the last 24 hours, I've had some serious supacreep biz going on via Facebook. Yesterday I got a message from Rando McCreeperson #1 that said, "Hey, hows it goin" and displayed this 30-something's shirtless + visor photo. Let me just say this: There's no effing way I will ever in my life respond to random messages on FB, especially if your picture is of you rocking a visor. I mean come on. I was embarrassed for him. So today I opened my email to find yet another FB message from Rando McCreeperson #2 that said, "hey your beautiful lets be friends." Someone... anyone... Shoot me. His picture was this creepy self-taken attempt at a seductive pose but what it really looked like was the back cover photo of the lead in an underground mano en mano porn. And I wasn't happy about it. So naturally I sent out the pictures and messages to my coworkers so they could all get a taste of Facebook's Finest. I will be changing my Security Settings to Creeper Alert ASAP. And note to all of you FB creeps out there: If you ever think sending a message to someone you don't know is a good idea, you are wrong and always will be wrong. You deserve to be slapped in the face before a hearty suckerpunch.
So back to the gym... After a pathetic attempt at climbing, I decided to row instead. So considering my favorite thing to do at the gym is people watch, I couldn't keep my eyes from wandering while I tried to pretend I was getting a good work out. I glanced over and what do you know... some stout-ish guy wearing a visor walked up to the weight rack and I swear on Jude's grave, it was Rando #1. Visor: check, weird fluffy haircut: check, serious creep factor: double check, way too into himself for anyone's good: check. So I spent the rest of my time on the rowing machine staring at him as the paranoia set in and playing through various scenarios that included saying things like, "Oh heyyy you must be my new FB friend! I'm so glad you found me at my gym too..." or "I know at least one, if not 75, people who would gladly kick your ass at any time" or "Whotheeffdoyouthinkyouareyou [insert exploitive deleted...]." This went on for awhile as I daydreamt about all of the confrontational possibilities. My list was growing faster than I could think of things to say, but then I remembered two things: 1. I would rather drink a bottle of Tabasco then run the stairs at Red Rocks than confront somebody I have beef with and 2. If this was in fact said stalker man, why would I introduce myself? "Oh hey, I'll be leaving here in about 30 minutes after a nice steamy trip to the sauna so you can go ahead and hop in your car and follow me..." Right.
I guess these things happen in real life... not sure where I've been for the last 23 years...
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