I saw the most annoying thing ever. Okay, so I'm walking into the locker room at the gym, and I see this chick standing there in the mirror. I immediately made eye contact with her and then looked away because...well, that's what I do when I make eye contact with people I don't know, and then I gave myself a second to really absorb what I just saw. This girl was maybe 5'9". She had blonde, blonde, blonde hair, thick and straight probably coming to a couple inches past her shoulder. She had this perfect little playboy bunny face - blue eyes, this little sloped nose, and this smirk on her face - like a sex smirk that looked like a permanent expression reading, "I'm just so damn fuckable." She had C cups that I couldn't tell if they were real or not because of the tank top and sports bra. She probably weighed a solid 110lbs - thin, but not the gross kind of thin where you can make yourself feel better by assuming she has an eating disorder to look that way. She had a nice even tan, perfect skin, and those super model long arms that had just enough cut to them. I would never use the word "beautiful" to describe her. Not even pretty. This chick was HOT. HOT personified. If the adjective could miraculously transform into human form, it would be this chick. And I wanted to get a better look at her because...that's what you do when you see hot people...you want to look at them, but she was so clearly aware of her hotness that whenever I tried to sneak a peak, she would immediately look up with her damn I'm-just-so-damn-fuckable expression. And I was pissed.

Look, I know that God's been kind with me - I'm very confident in my looks. Sure, I'd like the scale to read 10 lbs less even AFTER I put on more muscle, and sure I would love thicker hair, and all that. Granted, I just walked in from having sprinted for 10 minutes, and I had to talk myself down from puking afterwards, but I'm still okay being me. But then this chick has to be in my damn locker room reminding me why I'm not raising kids in this fucking city. Those chicks are for the magazines, not in the FLESH. It's obnoxious walking around like that.

It's not the same kind of jealousy - like I want to be her kind. I know that when I'm with a guy, I'm the long-term relationship/marrying type of girl. I think I'd be described as a woman, whereas she's just a chick. Still, she's very isolating, and I was annoyed. It's like, COME ON. What's the deal? That's just crap. Why are you in my gym so I can be reminded that if I stayed on that treadmill for another 3 HOURS, I would never have that body?

Ugh. LA can be very annoying. That chick wouldn't be caught dead in Boston. Why? Because Boston would be like, "Fine, you're hot, but what was your cumulative GPA in grad school? Oh, I'm sorry, you didn't even go to COLLEGE? Wow, all of a sudden you're so ugly. Weird."

Anyway, claiming 0 on your taxes is so great because this tax refund shit is like a fucking surprise emerald every April. I LOVE IT!!! Remember that large sum of money I was hoping to find? Just got enough to pay off my debt. I'm back to zero, baby!!! Maybe not on top, but I'm sure as fuck not under. WOO HOOOOO!!!


Okay, I'm off to be girly with my friend Allison. Wine on a Wednesday? It's fun being an adult.