Ain't Life Grand? (Cristiano Ronaldo)

Just a Job

Oversized Lois Vuitton purse?

Check.

Cellphone?

Yessiree.

Perfume? Make up?

Yes. Of course!

Bag of candy?

Yawp, Yawp.

iPod?

No duh.

GPS?

Oh yeah.

Spanish Book?

For cautious moments.

Operation: "Get to the photo shoot without bothering Kaká or Briget," was now put to action. Considering the fact Google maps showed me where the area was, it was really far. Unbelievable, the miles it took to get from my house to there. So, I decided to take a walk their, it's healthy, no one is bothered, and I get there anyway! But I had to leave around six o' clock.

"Shit!" I exclaimed in frustration, packing and extra bottle of Vitamin Water, the pink flavored one, into the purse as I rushed out the house, locking it from the outside with my keys. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

If I had left exactly at six in the morning, kept the same pace on for the whole walk through, then I could've made it there by twelve. Now that I had left at six fifteen, I was going to be five minutes late!

Oh fuck me.

_*_

About two hours into the trip, 8:30 a.m., I was so thankful for the fact that I wore white Hollister shorts, a pink and white floral tee from American Eagle, and comfortable black Victoria's Secret flip flops. The weather in Madrid was pretty damn hot. With the added sweat I was exceeding from my body, it wasn't helping much with the situation.

"Fuck meeeeeeee!" My hands thrown up I in the air, trying to reach outwards to God, in hope he would pity me and give me one ounce more of energy for this long journey. Hell, I was already two down from my Vitamin Water. How was I only this tired from a walking for two hours? I could run for two hours and not be tired. I won first place in all my track meets! Fuck, I'm out of shaped then! Even worse, thanks a lot.

My feet were killing me, so when I found a ass-ly sized rock for my buttocks, I took the opportunity to sit for a quick minute or too. I muttered profanities under myself, if I die, no one was going to come. No car has driven down the road ever since I left the house. Just as I got up, I heard a car in the distance. Definitely someone I didn't know, so I just kept walking.

As I went on, I noticed the car slowing down next to me, scaring me. I picked up my pace, hoping it wasn't going to be a rapist, or a crazy, mental person who has some sort of pleasure in stealing girls. The audible sound of a window going down, rang through my ears and I thought he had a gun.

"I am no hooker!" I exclaimed in a cautious voice, then realizing he probably never spoke English before I translated to the best of my ability. And my ability, was not much at all. "Me no-aye, hooker-aye."

"Uh sorry," A voice inside came. It was English! Sweet, old understandable language I know. "I don't speak idiot."

I was very much offended by that comment, and turned my head to see the douche who had said that. My face must've been quite funny looking, when I glared, because it sent Cristiano in hysterics.

"Cris! You! Fucking! Douche bag!" I hit him after each word, each time getting harder than the last, as he continued to laugh.

"Did you seriously think I was a stalker?" He asked as he motioned for me to get into the car. I shook my head, as I went around the front to sit at the left side of the car. It was an unusual concept for the steering wheel to be on the right side of the road in Europe. Sadly, I still have not gotten used to it.