Just in case you’re still reeling from the the horror of Zach Braff’s girlfriend’s pants — ah, the sentences we type here in late August. You guys, even Phoebe Price hasn’t left the house. — I offer you a palate cleanser in the form of the sportiest lady of Spice:
Oh Mel C, you’re so cute. I don’t know if I would have paired a black belt with all the brown accessories, but you’re pulling it off. Like a sweet version of Cruella de Vil: The Teen Years, a show that doesn’t exist, but which I would watch.