Last night's episode of VH1's America's Next Most Smartest Model—easily the most damning basic cable exposé on the insufficient intellects of the mannequin class since E!'s 101 Best 'I Can't Believe That Pretty Dummy Just Said That Stupid Thing!' Fashion Show Moments—asked the age-old question: how shitfaced is too shitfaced to network in a bar stocked with people from the industry who can potentially help one achieve his or her dreams of stardom?

The answer will shock you: while pounding a bunch of martinis in "real Hollywood" usually lowers inhibitions enough for the crucial exchange of career-kickstarting sexual favors in bathroom stalls, janitorial closets, or the back seats of luxury automobiles, in "reality TV Hollywood," the same amount of alcohol merely makes already less-than-eloquent people slur their semi-scripted interactions enough to alienate the agents, managers, and casting directors they're supposed to be blowing.