If Borat saw E!'s "Pam: Girl on the Loose," he'd go off in search of someone, anyone else

There is nothing, nothing, more annoying than someone who spends a ton of energy to get your attention and then sits down and flat-out lies to you, unless, of course, it's someone who bores you at the same time. Which brings us to Pamela Anderson, whose new E! show, "Pam: Girl on the Loose," yet another celeb-reality show, which, after a sort of promising start with "The Osbournes," has quickly devolved into TV's most unjustifiably self-satisfied and not just therefore most loathsome genre.

The press release is far more entertaining than the show itself, for its rapturously pretentious description of a program in which the star, understanding her fan base, flashes snatches of her breasts and buttocks within the first minutes of the first episode. ("There's more to me than that, but I'll let you see that, too," she coyly promises before that little moment.) Press notes refer to "Pam: Girl on the Loose" as an "observational documentary" (hands out there, everybody, from anyone who has seen a non-observational documentary?), insisting that it "provide(s) a truly personal and in-depth glimpse into the world and creative vision of this outspoken animal rights activist, passionate environmentalist and devoted mom." And, of course, the weather balloons known as her boobs.

More from the press release: "'Pam: Girl on the Loose' is shot with the style and sixties-esque artistic flair of a feature documentary, a style devised by Pam herself, setting it apart from every other show on the television landscape." Translation: The images are invariably grainy, meaning your investment in an HDTV will pay off handsomely here. (She's also credited as co-director and co-editor of every episode, which only ratchets up the measure of ego involved; there's not much to say about the direction, but whoever edited it certainly would've benefited from some Ritalin.)

And: "Throughout each episode, Pam inscribes her own personal messages and thoughts in pink marker across the screen to connect even further with viewers." Translation: Hey, those little scribbled inanities worked for the deeply incisive journalists at Us Magazine, so why not us? An example of said "personal message" "to connect even further with viewers:" During a photo shoot, the words "Photo Shoot" appear on screen in her curlicue scrawl.

"This was an opportunity to do something on my own terms. ... Nothing is contrived," Anderson insists early on, but of course her show is nothing but contrived. In tonight's episode, she's late for a photo shoot with photographer David LaChapelle, one that, given her busy busy life, cannot possibly be rescheduled, but that threatens to make them late to catch Elton John's final performance in Vegas. Now, when, say, I'm about to be late to an appointment, that creates drama in, oh, maybe, me; it's only Anderson's outsized bosum sense of self that leads to this being considered high drama, especially since she's catching a private jet to Vegas, and no way it's taking off without her.

So - whew! - she makes it to the show, then parties with Hugh Hefner afterwards and, then, per the press release, "True to her priorities, Pam flies back to Malibu to be home before her sons wake up." Because, you know, nothing screams "doting mom" more than partying all night but getting home before the kids wake up to be tended by their nannies.

More pulse-pounding drama from tonight's episode: Pam strides the Red Carpet at the ultra-glamorous premiere of "Superhero Movie" ("Children saved my life," she reflects in her limo en route, well away from her kids), and she hosts a rummage sale and her kids set up a lemonade stand. "I love yard sales! I love lemonade stands!" she explains, repeatedly, in different deeply revealing iterations.

A future episode involves her venturing to Washington, D.C. to promote PETA on "Larry King Live" and at the White House Correspondents Dinner ("I can probably not even point out George Bush," she admits, underscoring PETA's seriousness of purpose), while back at home, her contractor contends with some fairly outsized demands on the new home she's having built ("The reality of building a house is, it's traumatic, it's personal, it's financial," her architect melodramatically intones). A handler sternly informs her contractor that her problematically positioned pool (it's too close to the ocean, creating unhealthy ruptures of water at its bottom that delays its construction) must have genuine gold tiles at its bottom because it must "sparkle," for if it doesn't it will be, "for lack of a better word, boring. It'll be boring. And we can't afford that." Spoken like a true "passionate environmentalist."

Altogether, Pam comprises three boobs.

- "Pam: Girl on the Loose:" 10 p.m. Sunday, E!