Black Snake Man


…is an indie flick that has nothing to do with this entry.

So I went to the gym today with the sole purpose of blowing off steam…and then went to burger king for dinner. Its a completely logical move on my part being that I was not at the gym to actually achieve anything more then avoiding punching someone in the face (as was proved by my work out of 17 minutes going uphill on the elyptical at a less then optimal pace, and another 13 minutes speed walking to jon stewart’s “daily show” on the treadmill, and a half hour of leg work on the weights). I did much better yesterday, and will do much better tomorrow–my weight loss days. I’m reading an article in “O” about weight loss, which kinda just confirms what I already knew about weight loss…the less you weigh, the less calories you can take in to maintain your weight. So me eating like I’m a pregnant woman is not gonna help anyone. I like how I spent money on burger king but won’t refill my birth control prescription…i think it just reminds me of how unpromiscious i’ve been so far in 2007. Sadness. Speaking of promiscuity, I have a tentative coffee date with this guy that I met, and have been talking to for awhile on the phone–and you can kinda tell how much i like him, because if i totally in a respectable way dug him you’d never hear about him hear (as proved positive by the last 2 or 3 guys)–ANYWAY, all this talking- mostly by him- and other encounters with different gentleman have really made me wonder if it would be possible to have sex with these dudes and then try to be friends with them—at least then I’d probably be the least bit interested or entertained by what they were saying. Mainly because every time they’d open their mouth, i would wonder if we were going to have sex. Is it a bad sign that I’d rather just party, drink, and dance, then mate with one person for a good while? Am I really slipping head long into the irresponsible mindset that escaped me between the ages of 17-22? God I love Los Angeles! I blame the sun, this is what it does to me.

Anyway, this picture has been all over the mags lately:

And we all know how i feel about Ms. Tyra Banks (reel in that forehead, will ya). And this bitch who knows her and was in TFA for a bit, then was in my TFA cohort for a class after she quit cuz she didn’t want to teach special ed, and was on sorority life, is now student teacher at my school. ANYWAY, I will be the first to say that this bitch is not fat. This is just a fucking horrible picture…its a horrible bathing suit, its a horrible bathing suit (totally, didn’t mean to type that twice), its a horrible hair style (Put that weave in a pony tail). Its a super model who has joined the rest of us, as we eat ice cream (light ice cream, but a high fat dairy product no less), in the real world. I’m not one to usually believe everything I read online or in magazines, but I believe her when she said that since 2005 she’s gone from 142 up to 162. She’s 5’10″…one inch shorter then me. IF THIS WHORE WEIGHS 162, SHE’S STILL FUCKING SKINNY. Not dying skinny like Nicole Kidman and her tiny, probably just barely 130-140lbs- if that- fram, or even her old super model retired friends. but shit…if I weighed 162lbs i’m sure my family and friends would intervene on my behalf and confront me about my eating disorder-Cuz that’s what I would have. And I’m sure that i’d be out buying all the fucking size 6-8-10 (I don’t know!) pants I could fucking charge on a credit card until they caught me and threw me in the Wonderland rehab facilty between lindsay lohan and mary kate! Oh lord bless me with pants that fit correctly! (Wow, I dragged that out for abit didn’t i?). She’s a fucking Amazon who weighs Amazon weight…and the rest of the world is filled with midget ass haters. Now if only she’d do something about that forehead. SIKE! I shouldn’t mess with her about something she can’t fix. I’m no worse then those midget haters. (honestly, they’re from the same crop of strangers-male strangers- who have said to me “you are too tall.” HATERS midgets, are they, said yoda. ’til then, where the fuck is my margarita?

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