If you are the underage daughter who just killed her father, be sure to go about your average, normal teenage ways within a matter of a few hours. Sticking a knife in your father after he attempts to rape you is nothing to fret or worry about. Whatever shock or hysteria you feel initially will most likely pass once your mother unexpectedly opens up her own restaurant.
Should you feel the need to suddenly start up your own restaurant--despite no prior knowledge of running one nor any discernable ability to cook for large groups of people--don't despair. It is almost certain that a small film crew will magically appear on your doorstep asking if you can cater their film shoot. While most feature films, low budget or otherwise, would need to figure the catering costs into the budget many months before the cameras roll, this particular production can just wander the streets the very day filming begins, certain they will find a good caterer a mere few hours before lunch time arrives. Just make sure, as you're stirring pots and carving vegetables for 30 hungry high-maintenance crew members in a stuffy cramped kitchen, that you look super hot while doing it.
There should never be any worry, when starting up a brand-new restaurant, that your previous job as a cleaning lady at an unnamed instituion will ever come back into the picture. Because you've abruptly decided to take on this new entrepreneurial excursion, your old job should probably just fade away, as if it never existed in the first place. There is no need to explain this change of careers to anyone; ultimately, it's the loss of this unnamed hospital or university or whatever, where you scrubbed floors and washed sheets, all the while sporting sexy just-fucked hairdos and enormous stylish hoop earings that never get caught in your mop handle. There should also never be any worry that your fellow cleaning staff at this unnamed institution will look hotter than you. You will look stunning as you swab toilets, and they will look drab and plain and lack all the charisma that normally befits those who are forced to clean up after others as a means to make a living.
Super hot women who live in Madrid should constantly surround themselves with friends and family who are plain or overweight by comparison. While the other women of Madrid are forced to wear frumpy hand-me-down clothing (since, we are led to believe, you and your friends are very poor), you, on the other hand, should always wear fabulous form-fitting slinky dresses and fashionable jewelry at all times. For a change of pace, when you're in the woods late at night struggling with heavy picks and shovels to bury the dead husband whose life was taken by your own teenage daughter, you can instead wear a fabulous form-fitting track suit. Be sure to remain emotionally detached from these proceedings, showing the same concern for this ghastly circumstance as you would when creating a scrumptious meal for a small film crew on just a few hours notification.
When friends and family ask why your husband is nowhere to be found, simply tell them he promptly left you after a marital dispute. For the convenience of moving the story along, they will continue with their homely poverty-stricken lives, never once asking you for any specifics relating to this wildly unusual turn of events. Nor will they ask why you are super hot, va-va-va voom, sizzling sexy at all times of the day or night, while they, on the other hand, are forced to look unattractive and dull, even when partaking in the same working class existence as you.
Although you are super sexy and hot, it is perfectly normal to expect that one of your best friends will be a flashy overweight prostitute. Conveniently, she is also supremely adept at running the bar of your newly-acquired restaurant. Like you, she has no discernable prior knowledge of running a dining establishment--her spunk and joie de vie will more than make up for lack of experience. She is a hooker--how much different can it be to run a bar? By coincidence, she has also just bought several pounds of fresh meat--just enough to, say, serve the entire film crew which just showed up impulsively in the doorway of your restaurant. If you're worried that you'll have nothing to serve for dessert, fret not: another unstylish unattractive friend will pass by on the street and she, also, has just purchased large quantities of food for herself--in this case, chocolate cookies. Despite purchasing these for her own consumption, she will have no problem selling the entire supply of sweets to you. All you have to do is ask.
With your husband dead and buried, you are now single. As luck would have it, the Location Manager of the film whose cast and crew you are feeding happens to be young and sexy and hot, and he will flirt with you immediately, so there is no need to bother dating again or showing any inward turmoil over the shocking muder of your spouse. Because you are a walking wet dream, good luck and fortune will automatically fall into the lap of your form-fitting dress the minute you walk down the street.
1 comment:
SO.....does this mean you did not like volver? I wasn't exactly sure?
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