slow-mo flashback to our avatars strolling on a sunlit beach, ogling pixellated bodies in hot tubs and pouring beer on each others' weaves
and the disdainful tone of her voice indicates that this place is atop a gigantic pedestal high enough in rarefied air that one cannot detect that one's own fecal matter stinks.
Rebecca roots through Yaya's closet like a pig on the hunt for truffles.
Eva's clothes "don't say much"--what the hell, woman, do you want those pants to get on stage and deliver Hamlet's bloody monologue to you?
I am convinced this man is the devil
it's Tyra, who plunks herself down at the table and proceeds to eat off of everybody else's plates. Talk about a producer who keeps a tight rein on the budget
taking a milk bath is luxury, having the cast of "Manhunt" massage me with oils and fan me with palm fronds is luxury--listening to people insult my physical appearance and tell me I don't belong week after week after week? Let's call it a "unique opportunity.
Norelle, everyone knows the first rule about Fame Club, is you do not talk about Fame Club! The second rule of Fame Club? You DO NOT talk about Fame Club!
Conspiracy theorists--talk amongst yourselves.
"maybe it is a wall, with nine blocks that spell out 'competition'." But...nine blocks would only spell..."c-o-m-p-e-t-i-t-i"? Is "COMPETITI" a new word Yaya will print on a shirt to wear,
Ah, with reality TV there is always a catch
adding a "Hello, MacFly" for good measure. Well hello, MacFly to you, lady!
A GIGANIMOUS TARANTULA MAKING LOVE TO A HUMAN EYE [shudder--wait, is this a German porno again?
Rebecca Weinbeeyotch, my favorite Emmy-winning stylist [eye twitch]
I guess it's true that even cowgirls get the the blues,