Teresa Cruz ♦ Diego de la Vega

As fun as Zorro is, he offers me terrible advice. No, not terrible. It's just that his coping skills are a bit outdated. As much as I'd love to go after my landlord with a sword and a whip I think that would either lead to me being arrested or him seriously getting the wrong idea.

Angry voicemails just aren't as satisfying though.

Que lastima.

My job? Sucks. I just want to say this right now. Sucks. Do you know what today is? Friday. You know what comes after Friday? The weekend. You know who has to go on another business trip today and over the weekend? Anyone? Yep, that's right. That would be me.

Just once I'd like a real weekend. My laundry isn't going to do itself, you know, and my mother is starting to wonder if I'm still alive.

Am I the only person in Southern California who doesn't give a rat's ass about awards season? I mean, there are more important and interesting things going on in the world, aren't there? Yes, yes, I get it. They're massively over-budget movies with overpaid pretty plastic people. I'm sure the actors all work moderately hard before they go around handing each other gold statues and they're welcome to do it, but I'm welcome not to care. Now please take your grease-smudged copy of Entertainment Weekly out of my face before I swat you with it like a naughty puppy.

I am so glad to be myself again. Diego's lifestyle is just a little too vigorous for me. I think I may have pulled something. Besides, it would be terrible to deprive the world of fantasticness that is me for too long, we cannot have that.

( This bold renegade carves a Z with his blade, a Z that stands for Zorro. )