We continue to be impressed by "Outside In," the unghostwritten debut of one of America's most beloved television actresses, albeit in the same way that we were impressed when we realized that the dog we're currently dogsitting for had taken a massive dump indoors—but had managed to figure out that she should take said massive dump in the shower. Lower your standards and join us on page 15, where washed-up movie star turned T.V. diva Sapphire Rose is having one of her characteristic meltdowns.

I

In her much larger trailer, exactly 100 yards closer to the soundstage, Sapphire Rose was having her own wardrobe trauma. Sapphire's problem, however, was not her belly, but the stupid waistband on the stupid skirt that the impossibly stupid wardrobe girl had hung in her closet.

"Goddamnit!" Sapphire screamed, kicking the door of her closet, the base of her couch, and finally the front door until it swung open with a booming crash. "Where the fuck is the fucking wardrobe girl?" she yelled to the world at large, secure int he knowledge that someone would bring her the wardrobe girl (whose name was Karen, but Sapphire had stopped bothering to learn names long ago, preferring to use her memory for new diets and emergency contact numbers for her facialist and emergency contact numbers for her facialist and plastic surgeon).

"Is there a problem?" asked Sam [a P.A.], appearing at the foot of her trailer steps, Starbucks tray in hand, calm as always in the face of one of Sapphire's many storms.

"Yes, there is a fucking problem. It is the same fucking problem I have every fucking day. The fucking wardrobe idiot put the wrong fucking skirtin my fucking room and it doesn't fucking fit!"

"Wow," said Sam. "That is fucked."