Helena. I knew a girl who looked like Rodney Dangerfield with a 5-0′clock shadow. She
was the type you see wearing a bleached out 3X Tweety Bird t-shirt rummaging through the scrunchie bin at Goodwill. The kind of ugly she-beast who was always bragging about how much sex she got, although her boyfriends always conveniently went to another school. She had a hormone disorder that caused her to grow facial hair, so she would often come to class with a three-day beard. Rugged, like George Clooney, only the exact opposite.
