I feel like Stanley Kowalski...
and that bitch on my back is a flake named Blanche.
I want her. I hate her. She's a tease I long to slap senseless.
Fragile, neurotic, beautiful Blanche.
I need a Stella. Gimme a Stella.
Hard-working, stable, reliable, plain.
That's right, the Leica has retreated into her shell again...
and I'm sick to death of her fading belle shtick!
[anyone want an expensive, german-engineered paperweight?]