Well, this night didn't go as Abigail had hoped.
The girl is a walking s'more: chocolate atop marshmallow, with a little subtle crunch at the bottom. Whatever scared her into dumping cocoa all over her shirt was doing her a real thematic favor. Unfortunately, that same frightening whatever could have been her hair, shrieking at the sight of itself as a Kelly Bundy-Donna Martin hybrid that is -- as references go -- older than Abigail is. And so now I need to go tell a whippersnapper to get off my lawn while muttering about VO-5 hot-oil treatments and the importance of fit and proportions and "such a pretty girl" and these young people today don't understand stain-stick the way we did.