The Real Slim Shady Chapter 1: Ms Shady, a glee fanfic

22nd January 2010

"Jesus Christ, it's fucking freezing out."I huff as I throw the loose arm of my scarf over my shoulder and hold my phone to my ear, "I can't believe it's actually snowing in L.A. That should tell you how fucking cold it is."

Quinn chuckles on the other end and I can just see her rolling her eyes, "It's not snowing on my side." She says and I frown.

"That's because the blinds in your office are always closed, Fabray. Open them." I tell her and hear her sigh. I sniff and continue walking to the parking lot while I wait for Quinn to speak.

"Sweet Jesus!" She exclaims and I nod to myself, "It's snowing!"

"I know."

"In L.A!"

"I know, I just told you that." I huff and hear Quinn sigh in amazement.

"It hasn't snowed here since… what, twenty years ago when we were three?" She asks and I sniff.

"It's not that much snow. It's, like, drizzling snow." I say and hear Quinn groan at me.

"Why do you always have to ruin awesome things?" She asks and I chuckle, pulling my car keys out of my purse and hitting the unlock button.

"Q, if people from L.A. wanna see snow then they should go to New York or Montana." I say, "That's why those states are there. I don't like it when it snows in my city if it's not supposed to snow in it."

"Blah, blah." She sighs, "It's snowing in L.A. for the first time in a long time; would you please lighten up?"

"No. This is why I don't live in places that get snow in winter; I fucking hate the cold. And snow means very cold." I huff, pulling open the driver's door of my car and climbing in, shutting it with my free hand and letting my phone rest between my ear and my shoulder as I start the car and turn on the heat, "It's also why I wasn't born British. It's like my ancestors knew I'd hate the cold."

"You say that every winter, Lopez." Quinn says with another sigh as I crank up the heat and put my phone on speaker before putting it in the holder I have coming off the radio board and put the car in reverse.

"I say that every winter because I mean it every winter." I tell my best friend, pulling out of my spot and putting the car in drive, "The cold fucking sucks. I have at least ten baths a day in winter and that's a waste of water. Winter is a stupid season designed as a money scam."

"Mm-hmm. Sure it is." Quinn hums as I drive my way out of the parking lot of my work building, "Are you driving?"

"Yeah. I've got my phone in the holder."

"You got to leave work?!" She exclaims in shock.

"Yeah. Kind of." I say, hitting my indicator and peering down the road to the left.

"Santana Marie Lopez, did you quit?"

"No. I got fired. No big deal." I tell her and I hear a loud sigh.

"What did you do?" She asks and I roll my eyes.

"I didn't do anything. They just cut my entire department. Over fifty people are out of a job."

"So, you got retrenched?" She asks and I make a right turn.

"Is that what they're calling it now?" I ask, "Retrenched? What are the conditions of a retrenchment?"

"They cut your position and pay you."

"Oh. Then, yes, I was retrenched." I confirm and Quinn groans.

"You're a moron." She tells me and I roll my eyes, "Listen, I gotta go; I have an open house to get to but I'm coming over tonight, all right? We're gonna job hunt for you. You can't be out of a job for more than a week."

"And why not?"

"Because you spend like you're paying for a fucking wedding, Lopez. That's why." Quinn huffs and I frown in shock, "You have to find another job because lord knows Sam doesn't want you sleeping on our couch again."

"Hey! What did I ever do to him?"

"You wrote a song about his lips." She states bluntly and I chuckle to myself.

"Yeah, that was a good song." I say and I swear I hear Quinn chuckle in agreement before she clears her throat to cover it up.

"Goodbye, Santana. I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah. Bye, babe." I say and hang up, stopping at the red light and sighing as I watch the tiny, random specks of snow fall to the ground. I sigh and put on my CD, turning up the volume and sniffing before I start to rap along.

May I have your attention please?
May I have your attention please?
Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?
I repeat will the real Slim Shady please stand up?
We're going to have a problem here

I roll down the window as the light turns green and shut the heat off, rapping along with Eminem as I drive straight ahead to where the traffic is piling up.

Y'all act like you never seen a white person before
Jaws all on the floor like Pam and Tommy just burst in the door
Started whoopin' her ass worse than before, they first get divorced
Throwing her over furniture
It's the return of the "Oh wait, no way, you're kidding,
He didn't just say what I think he did, did he?"

I come to a halt behind a row of cars and tap my fingers on the window frame, bopping my head as I continue to rap, turning it up so loud that my car is vibrating.

And Dr. Dre said
Nothing you idiots Dr. Dre's dead, he's locked in my basement (ha ha)
Feminist women love Eminem, chicka chicka chicka Slim Shady I'm sick of him
Look at him, walking around grabbing his you know what
Flippin' the you know who "yeah, but he's so cute though"

Yea I probably got a couple of screws up in my head loose
But no worse than what's going on in your parent's bedrooms
Sometimes I want to get on TV and just let loose, but can't,
But it's cool for Tom Green to hump a dead moose
My bum is on your lips, my bum is on your lips
And if I'm lucky you might just give it a little kiss
And that's the message that we deliver to little kids
And expect them not to know what a women's clitoris is.
Of course they gonna know what intercourse is, by the time they hit 4th grade,
They got the discovery channel don't they?
We ain't nothing but mammals,
Well some of us cannibals, who cut other people open like cantaloupes.
But if we can hump dead animals and antelopes
Then there's no reason that a man and another man can't elope
But if you feel like I feel I got the antidote.
Women wave your pantyhose, sing the chorus and it goes

People are looking at me from the other side of the street sitting in the traffic going the other way and I just ignore them – this is my jam.

I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,
Please stand up,
Please stand up
'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,
Please stand up,
Please stand up

Will Smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records
Well I do, so fuck him and fuck you too.
You think I give a damn about a Grammy?
Half of you critics can't even stomach me, let alone stand me.
"But Slim what if you win wouldn't it be weird?"
Why? So you guys can just lie to get me here?
So you can sit me here next to Britney Spears.
Shit, Christina Aguilera better switch me chairs
So I can sit next to Carson Daly and Fred Durst
And hear 'em argue over who she gave head to first.
Little bitch put me on blast on M-T-V
"Yeah he's cute but I think he's married to Kim, he he"
I should download her audio on mp3
And show the whole world how you gave Eminem V.D.
I'm sick of you little girl and boy groups all you do is annoy me
So I've been sent here to destroy you
And there's a million of us just like me
Who cuss like me, who just don't give a fuck like me, who dress like me
Walk, talk and act like me, it just might be the next best thing,
But not quite me

'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,
Please stand up,
Please stand up
'Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating
So won't the real Slim Shady, please stand up,
Please stand up,
Please stand up

I am totally rocking this song as the traffic moves forward a few inches and, right now as I rock out with my boy Marshall, I don't even care about the traffic. I look out the window at all the cars stuck in the traffic going the other way and chuckle slightly before continuing to rap along; those people look so bleak.

I'm like a head trip to listen to
'Cause I'm only giving you, things you joke about with your friends
Inside your living room
The only difference is I got the balls to say it in front of y'all
And I don't gotta be false or sugar coat it at all
I just get on the mic and spit it, and whether you like to admit it (rip)
I just shit it better than 90 percent of you rappers out there
Then you wonder how can kids eat up these albums like Valiums, it's funny
'Cause at the rate I'm going when I'm thirty
I'll be the only person in the nursing home flirting.
Pinching nurses asses when I'm jackin' off with Jergens
And I'm jerking, but this whole bag of Viagra isn't working
And every single person is a Slim Shady lurkin' he could be workin' at Burger King
Spitten on your onion rings
Or in the parking lot circling,
Screaming I don't give a fuck with his windows down and system up
So will the real Shady, please stand up
And put one of those fingers on each hand up
And to be proud to be outta your mind and outta control
And one more time, loud as you can, how does it go?

Haha, I guess there's a Slim Shady in all of us.
Fuck it.
Let's all stand up

The song finishes and I turn down the volume, resting my head in my hand as I lean my elbow against the window frame, staring ahead at the traffic, spotting a broken traffic light.

"Ah. Fucking government." I mutter to myself, "Who can't get a damn traffic light fixed?"

"That was good, you know." I hear from my left and turn my head, making eye contact with a beautiful blue eyed blonde smiling at me from the driver's seat of a shiny black 2009 Chevrolet Silverado 1500. I frown with a smile – I can't help but smile, all right; she's hot.

"What was good?" I ask in confusion and she chuckles, her left hand resting on the window frame while her elbow rests against the door and her right hand remains on the steering wheel.

"You rapping." She elaborates and I feel a blush creeping up my neck to my ears.

"Oh. Uh, thank you." I say with an embarrassed grin. She smiles back brightly and I literally feel like I'm gonna choke on my own breath at the sight.

"Are you the real Slim Shady?" She asks and I chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Uh, no." I tell her with a breathy laugh, "But I like him."

"I can see that. You know all the words." She says with that bright smile and I almost swallow my eyeball – almost.

"I do, yeah. He's my favorite rapper."

"I gathered, yeah." She says with a chuckle and I lick my lips, bowing my head for a second to gain my composure before looking back up at her, "What's your name, Ms. Shady?"

I laugh, "Santana." I tell her, "Santana Lopez."

"It's nice to meet you, Santana Lopez. I'm Brittany Pierce." She says and I nod with a smile.

"That's a great name."

"You won't think so when you hear my middle name." Brittany says and I frown, "My middle name is Susan which makes me Brittany S. Pierce… Brittany Spierce."

I laugh out loud and give her a clap as the traffic on my side moves a little. I move with it and am now directly opposite her, "That's amazing." I say, "You don't like Britney Spears?"

"It's not that I don't like her… it's just… she's a little annoying." Brittany says and I chuckle, "You like her?"

"Uh… she's all right. I've never really paid much attention to Britney." I say and Brittany nods, "I prefer music that doesn't teach kids about hitting babies one more time."

Brittany laughs out loud and I smile widely at the sound and sight. She nods and bangs her hand on the steering wheel as her laughs become silent. I chuckle and look ahead of me – no movement whatsoever; thank God, "That was a good one." She tells me through her laughs, "But Eminem's music teaches kids about humping dead animals, jerking off and a woman's clitoris."

"Kids aren't supposed to be listening to Eminem." I say blankly and she chuckles, "But… I think some of them may have heard me rapping the lyrics earlier so… that was my bad."

Brittany's laughter dies down and she chuckles softly before licking her lips and sniffing, "That's a nice car." She tells me and I dumbly look down at the door as if I've never seen my own car before. I have a 2009 scarlet Jeep Wrangler SUV and, I gotta say, it is pretty sexy.

"Thank you." I say, "I like yours too. It's a Chevy, right?"

"Yeah." Brittany nods and I smile, "And, what's yours; a beetle?"

I laugh and accidentally let out a snort, feeling my ears heat up as I brush some hair from my face and shake my head, "No, it's a Jeep." I correct her and she chuckles.

"I know. Sorry, I like doing that to people I've just met. It makes them think I'm retarded and the way they look at me is so funny." She explains and I smile.

"Well, maybe you could show me how that works sometime?" I suggest and Brittany nods firmly.

"Absolutely." She says and pulls her phone from the passenger seat, tossing it to me as I squeal and just manage to catch it. She chuckles and scratches her chin, "Put your number in."

"All right." I say, unlocking her phone and going to her contacts, typing my number in and saving it under Santana (A.K.A Ms. Shady) before tossing it back to her and watching her catch it perfectly with her left hand as the traffic on her side starts moving quickly.

"I'll call you, Santana!" She calls as she starts to move with the traffic. I smile out the window and give her a thumbs-up before she turns right and disappears from sight. I lick my lips and stare ahead at my line of ridiculous traffic, sighing and resting my head against the headrest as I put the window up and hold my hands in front of the heat; they're literally pink from the cold.

I sniff and move forward the five inches the traffic's moved and swallow as my phone pings at me with a text. I take it out of its holder and open the new text.

FROM Unknown: Hey, Ms. Shady. Save this number into your phone so you know who's calling when I call. It's Brittany, by the way.

I chuckle and type a reply before saving the number into my phone and putting my phone back in its holder.

TO Brittany: Lol. Hi, Brittany. Your number's saved. Call anytime ;)

"Ahhh!" I yell as Quinn continues to blabber on and on about how Sam still doesn't wanna get married and how Sam doesn't want kids and how Sam blah, blah! She stops talking and I shoot her a glare, "Loser! We're supposed to be job hunting and, instead, we're talking about stupid ole Trouty Mouth who you still haven't left even though you knew going into the relationship that he doesn't want marriage or kids. You want my advice? Leave the bastard; he's not good enough for you and you know it. Can we find me a fucking job now, please?" Quinn scoffs and shakes her head, flicking the ash off her cigarette into the ashtray and lifting her laptop from the coffee table, scrolling through the site with all the open job positions on it and completely ignoring me. I roll my eyes and light another cigarette, sucking on the end and staring at her, "All right, fuck, I'm sorry. It's just; you complain about him to me all the time and you won't pull your head out your ass and leave him. You know I don't mean to snap at you but I can't help it, Q. The guy's a non-committing asshole. What's it gonna take for you to finally leave his sorry, blind ass? What; does he have to cheat on you? Does he have to beat you? Seriously, what's it gonna take 'cause he's capable of both."

Quinn blows the excess smoke out of her mouth and clicks on something, handing me the laptop and flicking the ash off her cigarette again, "If you had been listening to me at all then you'd know that Sam did cheat on me and that I did leave him." She says and my mouth falls open, "I walked in on him and some girl he works with going at it on my living room carpet. So I packed my shit and left. I'm staying with Cedes until he burns that carpet and moves out."

I stumble on my words and put my hand over my mouth as my cigarette burns slowly as opposed to Quinn's which is at its end even though she lit it two minutes ago. I clear my throat as Quinn gives her cigarette one last suck, finishing it off and putting it out in the ashtray, "Quinn… Fuck, I'm so sorry." I say softly, resting my free hand on her shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze, "The guy's an asshole. We both know that and, you know what, so does he. He doesn't deserve you."

"Save it, babe." Quinn says with a sigh, pecking my cheek and adjusting the laptop on my lap, "I'm not really in the mood right now. You can give me your best-friend-he's-a-douche speech tomorrow when you take me to breakfast."

I smile out a soft chuckle and nod, looking at the laptop and sniffing, "Deal." I say before sucking on the end of my cigarette and inhaling the smoke, holding it in for a few seconds before blowing it out as I stare at the screen, reading over the job description and giving Quinn a look, "No." I huff and she groans.

"It's perfect for you." She says.

"Kirkus Five Step Guide to self-publishing?" I say with a raised eyebrow and Quinn sighs, lifting the laptop and typing something into the search bar at the top of the screen, hitting search and then giving me the laptop. I look at the screen and groan, "No! I'm not gonna blog, Quinn. You saw what happened the last time I was paid to blog; I lost interest in a day and they fired me. No way; it's not happening again. I'll consider the stupid self-publishing online thing but I'm not blogging again. I can't be put under time-limits with my writing; I need to write in my own time when inspiration hits. It doesn't just fall out of me, you know that."

"I know but you were so good though." She tells me and I smile, "Maybe if you just started your own blog where you weren't paid to write the articles. You could write your books and self-publish them online while you wrote your blog. You could upload all your poems too; you write amazing poems, you know."

"They only sound amazing because they make no sense." I argue and Quinn shakes her head.

"That one about the woman who's carrying her baby was beautiful." She tells me, "What was it called again?"

"Water Weight." I reply and she nods.

"I can recite it by heart, you know." She tells me and I look at her with a challenging expression. She inhales a breath and begins to say my poem.

"Sweat slides down a wary brow -

A weight in shaking arms.

Slow, steady, cautious feet

Step even lighter now.

A small drop drips,

A whispered gasp,

The quietest of sobs.

Her nervous hand grips

Tighter now. Her steps begin to still.

Her chin quivers and she inhales

A breath. Responsible for life.

One more drop drips, and she feels no chill

For the water is warm and Nile.

Her eyes cast down,

The water stares up,

Her lips curve into a smile."

I give her a smile and see her eyes are filled with tears as she finishes the poem with a sniffle, "You must really like that poem." I tease and she chuckles as she wipes away the lone tear drifting down her cheek.

"It's stunning, Santana. You have a real talent and you refuse to share it with people." She says and I lick my lips, "And that poem – whew – it could make any woman wanna sleep with you."

I laugh and shake my head before sucking on the end of my cigarette and looking at her as I inhale, "It's not that good." I say on my exhale and then look at my cigarette, "And why would a poem about a new mother carrying her crying baby make someone wanna sleep with me?"

"Because you have a way with words." Quinn says, taking my cigarette from me and sucking on the end, "And I said it'd make any woman wanna sleep with you. A normal man wouldn't give a shit whether or not you could write; he'd sleep with you anyways."

I chuckle and shake my head, "When I first read you that poem you thought it was about a woman carrying a bucket of water across the desert and not wanting to spill any of it because she had people waiting for it." I remind her and she nods.

"That's what it leans toward in the first three verses. But in that second last line where you say the water stares up… Clearly water can't look at you." She explains and I nod, "But… it really is gorgeous. I still cried when you were reading it to me. It just tugged at my heart strings and warmed the cockles of my heart. It's my favorite poem in the world and, you know what? I'm sure other people's cockles could use a jolly."

"I'm sorry, are you British or…? What kind of American says the word jolly?" I laugh and Quinn chuckles, blowing out some excess smoke with a smile.

"This American. This one right here." She says, pointing at herself through her chuckles and I continue to laugh, shaking my head at her just as my phone rings, "Jesus, who's calling you? It's one A.M."

"No, it's not." I laugh, "It's eight thirty." I tell her as I pick up my phone from the coffee table and smile when I see the caller ID, "I gotta take this. Just gimme a second."

"Is it your girlfriend?" Quinn asks and I frown at her with a scoff.

"As if." I laugh before answering my phone, "Hey. I was wondering when you'd call."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I had some business to take care of. But I'm calling now. Thank God it's not too late. I completely lost track of time while I was working." Brittany says and I smile as I stand from the couch, moving slowly out of the living room to the kitchen.

"I'm a night owl." I tell her, "You could've called at four in the morning and I would've answered."

"Hey! I'm a night owl too. That's cool." Brittany says excitedly and I chuckle, "I mean, I'm not up until the early hours of the morning but I'm usually up past midnight. Are you a writer?"

I frown and scoff in disbelief, "Yeah, how did you know that?" I ask curiously and hear her breath out a smile.

"Usually writers are up quite late working on their brilliant novels or poems or… scripts." She explains and I nod, "But that was just a lucky guess. You could've been an insomniac."

"Oh, I am." I tell her, "And my insomnia helps with my writing."

She chuckles and I smile, chewing on my fingernail as she speaks, "Lucky ducky." She says, "But not in the case that you can't sleep. I meant in the case that you not being able to sleep helps with your writing. Apparently some writers say that they write their best work when they're tired."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's not the case for you?"

"I write my best work always." I tell her confidently and hear her chuckle.

"Confident. I like that." She says, "Maybe I could read some of your work sometime?"

"Absolutely." I confirm and hear her exclaim in victory.

"Yes!" She says happily and I laugh, feeling Quinn behind me burning a hole in my head with her eyes, "Maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow and I could cook for you… and you can bring some of your best work." Brittany suggests and I smile.

"So you want me to bring all of it?" I tease and she laughs, "I'd love that, Brittany. Just text me your address and the details and I'll be there."

"Will do." Brittany says and my grin only widens, "Are you busy at any time of the day tomorrow?"

"No, it's Saturday tomorrow." I remind her.

"Right." She says cutely earning an even bigger smile from me, "I'll text you within the next hour. I gotta take my puppy outside first or he'll pee on my foot again."

I snicker and inhale a deep breath, "We can't have that." I say and she hums in agreement, "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Brittany."

I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, "Me too, Santana. I can't wait." My smile just continues to grow as she carries on, "I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Shady. I'll be counting down the hours."

"All right, little miss charming." I say and breathe out a small laugh as Quinn gasps behind me and tosses an empty water bottle at me. I throw her a zap as I continue, "See you tomorrow."

"Bye, San." She says and my heart swells at the sound of my new nickname coming out of her mouth.

"Bye, Britt." I say and hang up, turning to Quinn with a glare and clenching my jaw.

"You have a date!" She squeals and I roll my eyes, "Who is this girl that has you actually biting your nails after seven years of growing them?"

"Quinn… just… okay?" I whine and Quinn's eyes widen as her jaw drops.

"You like her!" She squeaks and I shake my head.

"What part of 'Quinn… just… okay?' did you not understand?" I huff and Quinn starts to giggle.

"Santana has a date." She snickers and I pull my lips into my mouth in an attempt not to laugh at how much Quinn looks like a Gremlin right now.

"Quinn. Just… okay?" I say, managing to suppress my chuckle as she rubs her hands together in excitement, "And just stop that; you look moronic."

"Santana has a date! A date-date. You're goin' on a date. A date-date-date. Santana has a date. A date-date-date. You're going on a date-date. Going on a date." She chants and I stare at her blankly. She stops her annoying chant and gives me a cheeky smile, "You're going on a date-date."

I'm lying in bed listening to music playing softly on my iPod docking station which is on my nightstand and I'm humming along, staring at my phone as I watch the word typing… dance across the top of the screen under Brittany's name. She and I have been chatting ever since she texted me two hours ago to let me know her address and what time to be there. I now know her address by heart: 5115 Wilshire Boulevard, apartment 235. That may seem a little creepy to you but I swear it's not… the only reason I know it by heart is 'cause I was reading it over and over while I waited for her to reply.

FROM Brittany: Maybe we could go to the Grammy Museum before it closes? Say around four? Then we'll go back to my place for dinner.

TO Brittany: I LOVE the Grammy Museum! That sounds awesome. Should we meet there?

FROM Brittany: Hmm… sure. Or I could pick you up and take you home after dinner?

I smile brightly and type out a reply.

TO Brittany: 5535 Westlawn, apartment 313.

TO Brittany: Should I dress fancy, casual or fancy-casual?

I wait for a reply and turn the music up, rapping along softly to My Name Is… by Eminem when my phone pings softly with Brittany's reply.

FROM Brittany: I'll be there at three thirty. Wear whatever you want. You could even wear your pajamas… I like pajamas.

TO Brittany: I don't think the people at the Grammy Museum would think very highly of me if I showed up in my jammies. I'll surprise you.

FROM Brittany: Sounds good, Ms. Shady. Hey – you listening to Eminem?

TO Brittany: How did you know that?

FROM Brittany: I listen to music when I'm in bed too. It helps me sleep. Of course, Eminem doesn't make me wanna sleep he makes me wanna dance, break stuff and have sex…

TO Brittany: What do you listen to when you're tryna sleep?

FROM Brittany: Queen and occasionally The Beatles. Mostly all that good old stuff that hardly anyone appreciates these days.

TO Brittany: I went to a Queen concert before Freddie died.

FROM Brittany: What?! No way! How old were you?

TO Brittany: Well, I wasn't actually born yet but my mom was pregnant with me. It was their last concert ever at Wembley Stadium in 1986. I was born January 1987.

FROM Brittany: That's fucking amazing. You weren't there in person but you were there in utero which is even cooler. I wish my parents had gone to a Queen concert when they were expecting me. Or ANY concert. My mom hates concerts and my dad loves them so to compromise, when she was pregnant with me, he'd play all his favorite songs on guitar and sing them to my mom's belly. He swears I came out singing We Are the Champions.

TO Brittany: Lol! That's so adorable. How come your mom doesn't like concerts?

FROM Brittany: She went to a Beatles concert in 1966 when she was four and hated the loud crowd. It completely put her off the whole concert scene but she loved the music. She's the one who got me into the Beatles. Apparently her dad snuck her into that concert in his coat and people just thought he was really fat.

TO Brittany: What a man. He sounds awesome.

FROM Brittany: Yeah, Grandpa Bart's a funny guy. He's always cracking jokes and blaming his farts on his and my Grandma's dog, Parker. And he has a seriously dirty mouth. He could make a trucker and a sailor blush.

I read over that text over and over and smile widely before I yawn.

TO Brittany: Your grandpa better not ever meet mine; they're complete opposites. You can't even argue with my abuelo or he'll stop speaking to you for a month.

TO Brittany: Do you mind if we continue this convo tomorrow? I'm actually falling asleep for the first time in years.

FROM Brittany: Am I that boring?

FROM Brittany: I'm kidding. Of course we can talk about it tomorrow. Sleep well, Slim Shady. Dream of duckies and unicorns. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.

TO Brittany: You too, Britt. I'm hoping tomorrow morning goes quickly so I can see you sooner.

FROM Brittany: :J Good night, San.

TO Brittany: Good night, Britt.

Author's Note: I know it didn't snow in Los Angeles in 2010 but it was necessary for the story. Everything that happens is purely fiction aside from the addresses which I literally got online and have absolutely no idea whether or not someone lives there. If YOU live in the addresses used for Santana and Brittany's apartments in this story then please don't sue me for using your address; I apologize profusely but they were necessary for the story – I literally have both those apartment's floor plans saved onto my laptop so I can have an image in my head on what they look like. I'm sure you guys can look them up too if you want to. If you're feeling too meh to look them up then don't worry because I will be describing the apartments in future chapters.

All right, this is probably going to be the longest author's note I write – I'll reply to all reviews via PM unless they're guest reviews in which case I'll reply right here – so if you're reading this boring little note right now then I just want to say thank you for reading the first chapter and please let me know via review or PM if you want to see Chapter Two; it's written and saved and ready for posting. But I'll only post it if ten or more of you want to read more… I swear that's not a tactic to get more reviews, I just don't want to post a story that hardly anyone enjoys… okay, it's also a tactic to get more reviews but I have good reason; reviews are my inspiration to write more and faster.

One last thing; please don't trash the story because of incorrect dates or locations, etc. I don't have time for that; if you have a problem with the story then either don't read it or leave a review (or PM me) with your critique. And please try and refrain from using foul language as when people swear at me via text it really sets me off and you don't want that… even on the internet I can be a right, foul bitch. However if you want to cuss in your review or PM then feel free as long as it's not used in a hateful manner. Here, watch me: Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel free to quote that if you want, lol – I think I remember that from South Park. And now I'm rambling.

The song is The Real Slim Shady by Eminem and the poem is Water Weight by me. I DON'T OWN the characters or the title of the story or any of the true locations in it.

So, to sum up, leave a review or PM me if you'd like to read the next chapter.

- - CrisisThat'sFuckedUp