I love my friends


I love my friends.

I have surrounded myself with women who inspire me to be better on a daily basis; hold me accountable when it’s warranted; uplift me when I need it; and just generally support me in ways I would not be able to adequately enumerate.

We are all unique in our own ways, but we all agree that in life we want to keep striving to grow and evolve and be a better version of ourselves with each update.

I was just on the phone with one of my sister friends for 3 hours, mostly talking about credit, finance, and savings strategies.

These are the kinds of conversations I love having. The energy is high.

That’s not to say we don’t sometimes engage in gossip and being messy, but the high energy conversations definitely outweigh the low energy ones, and for that, I am extremely grateful.


I went to go get waxed this morning.

When I parked, I gathered up little pieces of trash to throw away the same way I do every time I get out of my car.

On the sidewalk I saw a bench and a green metal trash can. I threw my trash in it, and turned to walk into the wax place.

There was an unhoused gentleman sitting on the bench next to the trash can, and when I walked away, he started yelling.

“What the fuck are you doing, lady? This isn’t a fucking trash can!”

I turned to look back at him and realized what I thought was a trash can was actually a container he was using to hold all of his stuff.

I immediately felt like shit.

I walked back over to him and began apologizing profusely.

“I am so sorry,” I said.

“I saw what I thought was a trash can and threw that stuff in there without even looking. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

His demeanor immediately softened, and I found myself wishing I had cash on me to give to him, but I legit never carry cash.

It didn’t matter. He smiled at me and said, “It’s OK. I understand.”

I apologized again and started walking away.

Another older gentleman witnessed the whole thing, and he said to me, “Did you throw your trash in his basket? ‘

“Yeah,” I said, still embarrassed.

“It’s not your fault. The way it’s sitting there next to the bench, it looks like a trash can.”

“I still feel really bad,” I said.

All I could think was, imagine being unhoused and someone comes and tosses their trash in your stuff.

I’m super glad it was just a straw wrapper, the paper from my banana bread from Starbucks, and a napkin.

I still had espresso in my cup, or it could have been worse.

I love my favorite Starbucks


I want to take a moment to praise my favorite Starbucks. It’s located in West Los Angeles on the corner of Sepulveda and Palms. It’s a drive thru only Starbucks with a walk up window, but no indoor cafe.

The baristas at this Starbucks know me and treat me like royalty. They are always so kind, and they go above and beyond to make sure I’m happy with my drink.

I’m a creature of habit, and I get the same thing every day — a quad shot of espresso over light ice in a venti cup with cold foam on top, usually the cinnamon one.

Today, Paige put a little note on top of my cup for me because she knew it was me.

Starbucks doesn’t have the best coffee, but this Starbucks has the best service, and that’s why I keep going back.

Eye, aye, I


I went to Starbucks to get my usual quad shot of espresso (blonde) over light ice in a venti cup with extra cinnamon caramel cream cold foam (all the way to the top). The sun kicked my healing eye’s ass the entire time. I’m learning that “healing” is not as instantaneous as I may want it to be.

Still, I can see out of an eye I previously couldn’t. It’s still blurry, but I have the full range of vision in my eye, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Happy Friday.

Hello from the other side


It’s me, sitting upright, working on my laptop, and continuing to recover from my eye surgery.

I still can’t see clearly out of my left eye, but I can see enough to type some stuff, and that’s exactly what I am doing.

I swear, a week facedown in bed will have you ready to jump out of your skin, and now that I am upright, I feel compelled to never be lazy again.

Anyway, this is me saying hello from the other side.

Look at me the way he does

A photo of Monique Judge wearing pink glasses and holding a white coffee mug with the word "fuel" written on it.

Seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes is truly a different experience—especially when the way they see you is rooted in love and authenticity.

Me with my glasses on

People can tell you that you are pretty all day every day, and while it’s flattering and can boost your mood, the bigger boost comes from someone who really sees you and describes you in terms that embody your entire humanity and personhood. I wish that for everyone.

More pictures after the jump.

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