Hey blonde lady, could you please turn your head toward the camera so I can see how hot you are? Alas, she's doomed to remain another Mystery Blonde--where you see the blonde-ness but can't verify the hotness.It goes without saying that the centerpiece of this photo--the human gaffe in the cornflower blue Dickies dress shirt--is scum. This Human Gaffe spits his weak-kneed game of flirting at our Mystery Blonde; which more than anything is just complaining.
When Mystery Blonde fills the godforsaken awkwardness with stories of her recent activities, The Human Gaffe is crushed by tales of parties he didn't know about, events he was not invited to, and the blistering parade of paranoia-induced images in his own mind of other men that she must have met--and subsequently balled--during and after these feasts of youth.
This is Act I in an eternally re-occuring scenario wherein--in Act II--he returns to his apartment after a cold walk home and wishes he owned a handgun.
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