Ah. What would a completely self-indulgent star-fucking UPN show about a wedding between two nitwits be without a fucking day-long segment about the cake? People talk about the cake. We see it. One of the bridesmaids says it was vanilla and she remembered the flavor, and then she laughs like she's making a dirty joke. BritBrit and K-Fed, of course, because they are all klass, shove cake into each other's, well, cakeholes. Then they kiss.

And now is the time I throw the computer down and walk away. But I can't, because people are counting on me. So I shall pour another cup of coffee (read: scotch) and take a deep breath and do my best. So, basically, how can I put this…? At this point in the wedding, the wedding party, they all went into another room and changed. What did they change into? Track suits. Yes. Not kidding. Not pulling your leg. Track suits. The men changed into blinding white track suits. "Oh, that's tacky." Yeah, shut up, I'm not done. On the back, there are words. "Really?" Yes. Words. A word, actually. The word is this: Pimp. Horrified beat. Yes, they changed into white track suits with the word "Pimp" on the back. And then showed people. And took photos. And then later put it on TV. And they weren't embarrassed. Under his glorious, earth-ruling mullet, Dad-Fed's track suit reads, "Pimp Daddy." And K-Fed's, because they're all so fucking stupid they can't even come up with something that makes sense, reads, "The Pimp." "See, naw, cuz, they all pimps. So with me, you add 'The' and it means I'm 'The' pimp, you know? I'm 'The.' It's me. 'The.'" Also, maybe this is just me, maybe I have incorrect information, but aren't pimps people who enslave women with drugs and protection and faux-love, and make them let men stick their dicks into them for money? Oh, it is. Okay. I thought so.