I never claimed to be a good person.....

At least I don't think I ever claimed to be a good person.

I warn people.

I regularly describe myself as a bitch or an asshole.

A charming one at that.

But I don't have a "filter" as some may say.

As soon as my brain develops a thought it's like a lit piece of dynamite just waiting to escape my mouth. No time to think! I will explode if I do not get rid of this juicy morsel of wittiness.

Or at least that's my excuse.

But this, kids, is a little reminder of why you *just might* want to think before you leap.....

I left work last night in one of those teetering moods.

I could either be a good little healthy person and go for a run, or I could curl up with a fat glass of wine on the couch and eat the giant bag of chex mix my brother's girlfriend made him, which he conveniently forgot when he went back to college.

My loving mother donated this bag to me with a loving "I don't want it, I'll just eat it."

Well no shit! Give me that bag! 

Free food is a privilege these days! 

Anyway, I decided to go for a run.

Now here is how I operate.

Running in the morning - good.

Running at lunch - better.

Running at night - I will find any excuse to abandon the workout.

I won't even go up to my apartment. Seriously. I have to go straight to the gym and change there because if my couch intercepts I will never leave.

My ass groove in the couch actually cries out in agony if I try to leave it all by its lonesome between 6 and 10 pm.

Sign #1: I couldn't find a hair tye in my car.

Should have quit right then.

But no.

I found a hideous stretchy headband which I wrapped around my ponytail several times until it would serve as an appropriate hold for my hair.

It looked like a scrunchie.

Sick.

Fine, whatever. I'm not husband hunting at the gym.

Sign #2 I forgot a towel.

I'm not a pretty work out-er.

I do not wear yoga pants.

I do not look like a fitness ad out of SELF when I'm done.

I sweat.

Like a 500 pound man climbing 100 flights of stairs.

But I decided I would just let the sweat burn my eyes and splatter the treadmill and then clean it with those annoyingly small little sanitary towels they keep around.

Sign #3: 

Get to gym.

Every machine is taken.

Even the bike.

Welp, that's it, I tried, okay SEE YA!

I wish.

For some reason I was just pissed off now.

Some beeyotch was walking at 2.0 on the end just plodding along.

Are you serious lady?

I burn more calories per hour lifting my right arm to bring sweet sweet wine to my lips.

SO KINDLY REMOVE YOUR ASS FROM THE MACHINE SO I CAN GET THIS F-ING WORKOUT OVER WITH!!!

Immediately, I decide to tweet about it:

because clearly, I feel the need to alert everyone of my thoughts and activities at all times.

thank you, constant social media connection. 

@cstanderfer I wonder if people who walk on the treadmill at an ungodly slow pace hate themselves as much as I hate them?

Another girl gets off the treadmill next to Pokey McTortoise-son shortly after that and I hop on.

About 20 minutes later she is finally done.

When she stopped she stood there for a minute and then turned for her walking stick.

Yes, her walking stick.

I am SUCH an ASSHOLE.

I mean seriously, I made fun of a blind person for working out.

Of course, she doesn't know, so I can't apologize to make myself feel better.

"Oh, hi. I was giving you evil glares while you were walking. I know you don't know, but I just wanted to tell you so I could apologize to make myself feel better. Okay see ya around, errr I mean, have a g'night KBYE!"

The even worse part is, I feel bad because I know it's wrong to make fun of a blind person.

I do.

But even after I self proclaimed myself an asshole on the blog and on twitter, I couldn't help but think:

She really could have prevented this. I ran inside because it was already dark. She could at least be considerate and walk outside. I mean...It doesn't make a difference right?

And even now, I know I should just highlight and *delete* but I can't.

Because she isn't going to read it.

I know what all of you are thinking.

If I get reincarnated I should come back as a blind person.

But that's not how it works.

It's not really an eye for an eye

(pun not originally intended but upon realizing it, it stays)

It's an eye for irony.

Therefore, my hellish punishment will be to come back with super sight and hearing.

And then I will be strapped to a chair and forced to watch a naked Rosie O'Donnell chatter on and on and on and on.....

All I can really say about all of this is that at least I'm not one of those passive aggressive people who pretend to be nice.

What you see find in front of you is what you get.

That's redeeming, right?

Maybe a little bit?

No? How bout this.

I am a big Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles fan.

And they are blind and black.

2 points.