She catches your eye at the cafe. There’s just something about her, a potentially nuclear radiation of cuteness. You look closer–is that chocolate cake smeared across her chin? Are several thousand squid tentacles squirming from her shoulders? There is no question that she has been exposed to some sort of government experiment, and needs a napkin. And yet, she is proud of her flavor-saver squid bod. Smugly, she sparkles her eyes and you float over, like Pepe le Pew hooked on the perfume of Taurean self-satisfaction.