We’ve all had that job: that strictly-for-rent-money, I’m-just-doing-this-until-my-real-career-takes-off, it’s-either-this-or-sell-my-plasma job. Maybe it was telemarketing, maybe it was washing dishes at a Pizzeria Uno (N.B.: I’ve done both), but regardless of specifics, its only saving grace was the people you shared that particular soul-sucking experience with. The camaraderie born of professional shittiness is a strong one, and Party Down celebrates that bond in the most spectacularly absurd way imaginable.
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