You can be number four.
In the picture, you're pointing at yourself. You have a really stupid look on your face, your mouth is wide open and your eyes are plastered into fake shock. I imagine you saying, in a very Betty Boop-esque way, "Who, me?"
Accompanied, of course, by that famous, ditzy giggle.
"Oh, I'm so stupid!" Isn't that the only way you can get people to laugh at what you say?

So, I'm number one. Number two and three are sitting with me in the parlor.
"I'm really jealous of number four, but I despise her at the same time."
Number two and three have never been the types to rush to reassure me, but this time they're jumping all over it.
"Why would you be jealous of her? Her face is completely unremarkable."
"I agree with number three."
I struggle to fathom my emotions.
Love/hate, how possible is that, really.