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June 16, 2009
The man is small and inconsequential. His partner grows out from under a storm of locks dyed blond, her eyes and puffy, pasty face adorned grotesquely with blue glitter. She is a human hoover, I watch in horrified fascination as plate after plate of food disappear into her scowling mouth, between the pale pink lips. Hunched over the table, she is focused when eating, elbows working as she cuts through the meat. The waiter, who arrives with the dessert, is the only person that merits her smile; it takes minutes for half a pineapple to disappear under the blond locks.