as a telenovela artist one would expect your life to be followed with a series of uncontrollable events that can kill all integral glimpse of hope, all of which piled ontop of one another, should make you think that life is not worth living - but it is your responsibility, as a telenovela artist, to cry lightly, and grasp onto hope (and your mascara, albeit waterproof), maintain your value and virtuous virginly attitude - as the series of horrible events, uncontrollably unfold in the hour span that is your life, while you attempt futily to solve each mountainous problem, before the other one threatens to ruin any progress - all of this, of course, in heels.
whether the events be that of falling in love with the poetic dance that was a man in a position of conflicted interest at work, for him to later state that the words were simply words, and his heart and body were betrothed to another.... or they be much less tragic, but still incredibly comedic (for the viewers, of course) as was the spilling of half a gallon of blue house paint on the tan leather interior of the telenovela artists back seats, to later spend 3 hours scrubbing nailpolish remover - ruining any trace of a manicure, shivering in heels and a sweater throughout the gruesome process - but to be succesful, only to realize that the acetone has spilt on one's lifeline: the blackberry - ruining beyond repair the screen; regardless of the nature of the events, or the degree of tragedy - they will continue to add smiles on the faces of the audience, and the telenovela artist will continue to naively be thrown into situations of dire drama - only to forever survive, a little shook, without more than a scratch, makeup intact, and of course, in heels.
