There are few things more damaging to my self-esteem than walking into an elevator already occupied by a fucking supermodel. Dear girl who was on my elevator: I hate you. You are impossibly tall and blonde and skinny and you seriously looked as though you were heading to Milan to do a little turn on the catwalk (on the catwalk yeah). I already know that I’m funny looking, but until I had to get on the elevator with you, I was perfectly fine with my plaid sneakers, denim skirt, black leggings, blue shirt with sparkly thread done up in the back with a bright green organza ribbon, huge sunglasses and green headphones. Compared to you, though, I look like a clown. You made me feel as ridiculous as I look, which is saying a lot because I always look ridiculous but I rarely feel my conventional shortcomings (much to the chagrin of the people who have to be seen with me).
I’m going to go home and crawl under the bed now.
Stupid supermodels, making the rest of us feel bad.
delicious juice dot com 
I’d rather be in an elevator with you than with the super model.
you shoulda high fived her. in the face.
drea just made me laugh for reals.
Look on the bright side, she probably has like five years to live before her stomach lining dissolves its way through her bony ribcage and goes on a violent rampage.
Who cares, your cleavage is way better than her cleavage, and that’s what’s important. And straight chicks would rather do you than her.
What’s that about straight chicks?
Straight chicks dig me.
The only girls who ever want to sleep with me are totally straight, and they tell me “If I were gay or bi I would SO have sex with you!”. It’s happened .. 20? 30? times.
It is frustrating.
*leer*
Yeah, the bitchezzz always want what they can’t have. Tell me about it. Typical.
What what.