Fergie wedges into the TRL photobooth with some little happy tart. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be stuck in any confined space with Fergie for long. Imagine the shit-reek. Plus Fergie freaking out because she hasn't had a hit of meth in ten minutes. And then just having to look at her. I think that might be one of the lower levels of hell, below having your balls slowly roasted then eaten by demons.
