As the show opens we see a girl dying her hair in the sink and self-narrating to no one in particular about how clubbing has evolved into an orgy similar to the hedonistic days of Louis XIV. She mentions the Meat Packing district, so it's clear we're set in NYC.
She walks over to her computer and we see that she's video-chatting with some cute boy, going on about this idea and revealing that it's a story she wants to pitch to her boss. OK, so it seems she works at a magazine. She explains that she's dying her hair red because red is bold and she needs to make an impression with her boss if she wants "that promotion." The dude, who calls her Megan (nice expository work, video-chat vehicle!) says that red hair makes him think of Angie Everhart, which makes him think of porn. Zing! After more kibbitzing in which she talks about how she needs to get rid of her debt and climb the corporate ladder, video chat dude says that maybe a promotion will mean she can finally afford to move out of her smoky rat-trap apartment. Smoky? Oh crap! Megan looks behind her, sees smoke rising up from behind the window, and runs out onto the fire escape in just her towel to see that the tenants of the apartment have gathered in the street. Her building's on fire. Some kid down below helpfully informs her that he can see her "vajayjay." Can we retire that stupid word yet? No? Ugh, fine. And the opening credits roll.
It's morning and Megan sits across from her boss at the tabloid magazine where she apparently works. Oh! Her boss is Debi Mazar, which means she is a tough, take-no-prisoners broad. Type-casting city. Anyway, Megan is mid-schpiel about her story idea comparing New York nightlife to the French court. Debi's like "the only thing I care about covering in the club scene is actors doing coke and models throwing up." Debi informs Megan that not only is she not getting a promotion, but she's fired. Harsh! Megan, close to tears, moans that her apartment burned down the night before and now she's being fired from a job she didn't even want in the first place. Apparently she fancies her self a hard-nosed journalist and celebrity gossip is beneath her. Echoes of The Devil Wears Prada much?
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