The mini-screen features the latest Vince Vaughn flick, yet another ridiculous comedy in which our friend Vince, delightfully portrayed as the every-man's-man, does nothing but sit on a couch in his flannel shirt and sweatpants (inevitably showing a little paunch) spouting platitudes and throwing in a fart every now and then to spice it up. Just when you want to throw a shoe at the T.V. screen and call it a day, some smart-mouthed, undeniably pretty, well dressed girl inevitably appears, argues and then falls hopelessly in love with him. It is every couch potato's fantasy, and every ordinary looking girl's nightmare. If even the pretty girls are resorting to the banal, what is left for the plain Janes?
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