Yeah, this is standard meat and potatoes divide and conquer trash.

Throw in a black guy, yada yada, some tea, dancing, voodoo, heart break at lost love, boredom, women's rights, white men are bad, Budhism, no future, and crappy pop songs, and there you go, Kat Hudson's own private pop tart hell. And she even offers us the benefit of making it sound like hell.

Thanks, Kat! You're such a peach.