or hot mess who stayed out all night with a mysterious hombre (or perhaps Joey Tribbiani, revisiting his days trying to sell the cologne Hombre) doing the Forbidden Dance in a pool of piranhas that rent her garment with their hungry teeth, leaving her with no choice but to pin together her outfit with a seatbelt from her lover's Smart Car. Given the choice, I'd pick Door No. 1, but maybe I just lack vision.
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