Hair looms on the horizon. You know it won't be long now. →[More:] Your blind date is coming, and sure enough, she's a Jersey Girl. Teased to the sky with hair so high it needs aircraft warning lights. You curse your luck and your friends who set you up as even now, your senses are overwhelmed with the smell of product, cutting your knees out from under you and making you feel faint. The sticky-sweet hairspray and perfumes cling to your lungs, denying precious oxygen the binding sites it so desperately wants. This is it. You know you've only got one chance to escape a girl like her; and you'd do anything, anything to do so. Living on a prayer, you run like you were born to. Rushing headlong like some kind of teenage warhead, you fly through a nearby window, landing badly. As you clutch your sweet fracture, you picture the revenge you'll take on each of your friends who gave you the runaround when you asked about this girl. Sure, you might get 18 to life, but it'll be worth it.