Piper screams some more at Phoebe along the lines of "Dammit, Jim! I'm a chef, not a restaurateur! And why are you wearing my dress?" before this big bleached blonde we've never seen appears at the bar. Phoebe greets "Brittany," and compliments the cheap-looking "tattoo" of an angel Brittany sports on her right hand. It looks more like a hand-stamp they'd use at the old Limelight chain of nightclubs, but whatever. Phoebe PSAs that she thought hand tattoos were forbidden, due to the proximity of the veins to the surface of the skin in that area. Brittany blithely notes that such tattoos are indeed illegal in the United States, which is why she got hers in Tahiti. Bad Brittany! Bad! You'll suffer for such flagrant flouting of this great nation's laws, you whore! Do you think we should stone her? I think we should stone her. Brittany, having thus established her credentials as a suitable object of both audience scorn and demonic violence, announces that she has to "jam," which as far as I'm concerned is the real strike against her. I'm sure she'll be sparking up her crack pipe and kicking a few puppies on her way out the door. Then again, considering how screwed the WB's priorities always are, she'll probably just light a Virginia Slim on her way to that fuel-efficient Japanese import of hers in the parking lot, which along with the tattoo should be more than enough to mark her for death on the Frog.