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And here’s me, quirky as hell, imaginin her in my head—red lipstick, ripped fishnets, laughin at the cops. I’d be her pal, for sure. “Bastante, bastante bien,” I’d say, cause she’s livin loud. Oh, and get this—total exaggeration for kicks—but I bet she’d rob a bank and wink at the teller, like, “Thanks, babe!” Hahaha, that’s so puta, right? Sarcasm’s her shield, humor’s her gun. I’m obsessed, honestly—she’s messy, she’s real, she’s everythin polite society hates. And I’m here for it, screamin, “You go, girl!”—like, who wouldn’t be?