[Prelude]
My name is Santana Lopez, and I fucking hate my fucking life.
Yes, yes, some may deem me ungrateful, and granted things could be a lot worse; they have been a lot worse, but everyone's got their shit, you know?
Like, how I used to live in bum-fuck Ohio. That sucked.
Or how I was a closeted lesbian for pretty much most of my life thus far. That sucked.
I used to work in Hooters. That really sucked (but tips were great!).
Things are slightly better now. Slightly.
I no longer live in back ass hicksville.
Living in Los Angeles means I now get plenty vitamin D and no longer have to spend every day working crap ass jobs in a crap ass town.
I'm out and proud and one of the hottest pieces of ass to hit West Hollywood since... possibly ever.
And though I no longer have to flirt with skeevy old men, and obnoxious frat boys for tips, my job still sucks and I don't care what anyone says on the contrary.
I work at Disneyland, and yes, you heard me right. It. Sucks.
I tend to avoid vocalising my opinion of my current profession because that generally leads to "Oh my god, you're crazy, I'd die to work at Disneyland every day! You must have so much fun!" people who say such things can suck it. I hate my job, no ifs ands or buts about it. I think I'd rather work as one of those people that dance on the side of the road with giant cardboard arrows that point to car washes, or furniture stores...
Okay, so maybe I'm just a little dramatic. Things could be worse.
I live in a moderately decent apartment, in a moderately decent area of central LA, and drive a moderately decent car. However, my moderately decent apartment, in my moderately decent area of LA is a pain in the ass drive in my moderately decent car to my job, 40 minutes away in moderately decent traffic, five days a fucking week. So yeah, some people may have it worse, but those people don't have to dress up like a Disney princess five days a fucking week and smile while germ infested children bombard them with unwanted hugs, or attempt to kiss them on the face with their slobbery, sticky mouths.
And let's not even start with how early I have to wake up from my beauty sleep every morning just to make it to work on time. Why live so far away from work? Most people ask. Well, believe it or not, portraying Princess Jasmine at Disneyland was not my dream job, nor was it my motivation behind moving to Los Angeles, it just happened to be the closest thing to an acting gig I've managed to land since getting here. And while there could be worse gigs, working in Anaheim really doesn't allow much time for running to and from auditions, but barista-ing at Starbucks for those whole two days didn't quite work out and being unemployed doesn't pay the rent. And sure, LA is full of restaurants and catering jobs and other professions that would probably be more suited to accommodating my pursuit of fame and fortune, but 'hopeful actress works as a waitress'... talk about a cliché! At least this job kind of makes me feel like I'm somewhat headed in the right direction, and is at very least, a conversation starter at the few auditions I have managed to make.
I know what you're thinking, things could be worse.
Did I mention my roommate's a jackass? Because she is. Sometimes. Let's just say she drives a Prius (if you've ever had the misfortune of travelling in LA traffic in, behind, in front of, or next to a Prius, you know what I'm talking about) and likely shits green from all the kale juice she ingests, and so help me God, if I have to hear about one more "perfect guy" she's met at Whole Foods, I may be forced to punch her in the tit.
She's an idiot. But she has her moments and I don't entirely hate her 100% of the time. Just the time I spend at my apartment... At least I've a roof over my head.
Yeah, things could be worse.
I have come to realise that most of my ailments are situational and entirely avoidable should I just alter a few things, and I'm all about it. For one, I have every intention of quitting my job within the next month so that I can finally knuckle down and focus on what I really want to do, be a star! Secondly, I plan to get the hell out of my apartment and as far away from my roommate as physically possible, the second my lease expires at the beginning of next month.
That should do the trick! And I am ready to take action.
Or at least I was before Cinderella got herself knocked up and had to be replaced by the most perfect individual that ever graced the inner walls of Disneyland, truly re-affirming that it is in fact the most magical place on earth, and that Walt Disney was speaking nothing but truth when he said "dreams really do come true".
My name is Santana Lopez, and I have it bad for Cinderella, and she barely knows I exist.
So no, things could not be worse.