Fashion/Style by Liza Van Horne

If there's anything more boring than watching a frantically cobbled-together bridal shower play out for the better part of an hour, you go ahead and tell me what it is. Oh wait - except there IS one thing more boring. I'm sure you're way ahead of me here. Listen, for the sake of our more dignified and sensitive readers, I've been trying to avoid the foul, vulgar language and lavish swearing toward which I am so naturally inclined, but there IS a time and place for it, and all I have to say about that is, MOTHERFUCKING KARAOKE?! Are you even kidding me? No seriously, is this a (very unfunny) joke?!

Leaving aside the issue of whatever the hell Ana is doing in a nightclub during prime boozing hours, Colleen and her "rebound date", Porniel - who seems to have been recently infected with Lauren's Perpetual Squinting Disease - suuuuuucked. I don't ever want to hear them attempt to sing again. Ever. "There's Nothing Like The Real Thing Baby" is a dull dirge of a song and a terrible choice for karaoke, but the show is too cheap to pay for the rights to use any songs written within the past eighty-seven years. Don't any of you write me to tell me that the song was actually written in the sixties or whatever, okay? I could give a shit. It just sucked. I can't judge whether or not Devoid and Ana sucked even more than the other two doofuses, because I fast-forwarded their cheesy asses. I mean, I'd already lost entire MINUTES of my life I would never be getting back.

Speaking of losing things you can never get back: let's just say the item lying forlornly by the roadside is "firmness" and the car that tossed it out the window was manned by "Phyllis's breasts". Holy cow, did you SEE the wobbly extravaganza when she went commando under the thin, cheap fabric of yet another in her endless stash of halter dresses?! Whoa. Yes, Phyllis has a great body and all, but man alive, those things were flopping around like a couple of sunfish in a bucket! How hard could it be to find some duct tape and secure her wayward flapjacks, I ask you? That delusional, self-righteous broad needs to deal with the fact that she ain't 20 any more and hasn't been since Reagan's second term. Seriously, the bloom's been off that rose since about fifteen minutes after the Berlin wall came down. What I'm trying to say is, the last time Phyllis could get away with ditching the bra in public was back when Mike Myers was still funny. Yeah, that long ago. I know. It's sad. Phyllis? Maidenform is your friend.

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