I almost peed myself laughing as I watched this trailer. It's not a warm, friendly kind of laugh- not the kind that you have as a good friend divulges about her experience with explosive diarrhea in a cocktail dress, drunk, at a Bolthouse T Mobile party. No, not that kind. It's the kind of laugh that is spawn from the depths of one's soul, from the darkest corner- the corner where you hide your resentment from not being approached by Proactiv for the spokesmodel position. The bitterness that results from the inability to get MTV to pay your rent in the stucco apartment complex, your ten plastic surgeries- the fact that you don't get to design knit-jersey dresses and leggings and call it a "clothing line" while Viacom foots the bill and perpetuates the nonsense. Behold the biggest shit-show yet. The most polished turd that has ever graced American television...
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