Stranger in My Apartment Building...

You might think this looks like a totally normal workout outfit:

I know, I am getting so good with my berry camera (also, how nice is the wood floor of my apartment?). This is NOT, however, what sexy people in Silverlake wear. Also, I am not one of those chicks who looks sleek and sporty in exercise gear; I look sloppy and confused. As an unemployed writer, I am in this outfit A LOT. Sometimes I forget that a lot of people in my apartment building are musicians/furniture makers (loud ones)/painters/people who do not work normal hours and are therefore meandering about the premises during the day. In particular, there are certain attractive gentlemen that seem to be skilled in catching me when I look my absolute WORST.

There is King of Leon with Two Small Dogs; I call him this because...he looks like the Kings' lead singer Caleb Followill (when he still had long hair) and has tattoos all over his arms (cool ones not gross ones) and wears tank tops to show them off and has two really nasty, barky small dogs (which I don't think are allowed in the building but whatever).  Leon takes his dogs out to poop whenever I am coming back from a run, even though I run at all different times; he has never once said hi to me or even looked at me in the face and you know what? I do not blame him for a second. There are also two thin Bob Dylan-y dudes who are either in a band together or best friends or roommates or lovers or some combination of those previously mentioned words who dress like they're in The Assassination of Jesse James and are SO NICE but again, every time I see them I am like picking gum off my foot in the entrance in my Juicy Couture sweatpants from 2003. When they talk to me it's kind of like I am a stray like, "Are you lost?" No, I am not lost; I LIVE HERE. Sometimes I wear VERY cute outfits like this one:

But do any of the hot people in my building see me dressed like this? NO! Even my very nice landlady with the wild red hair saw me in unzipped (I was typing; it's more relaxing) jorts (jean shorts, Mom) and a Brown t-shirt (nope, I did not go there) with no bra on (not in an erotic way, I promise) when she came to tell me my rent was going to be ten dollars more next month (don't ask). Anyway, I just wanted to explain to you (Mom) how frustrating my life is sometimes.