Go Sox! And props to J-Bean for cashmere and strawberries.
Previously on America's Next Top Model: Jamaica! Cassie is a stripper! Amanda has a degenerative eye disease! Julie did really well last time (which totally means she's out this episode)! You suck, Magdalena! Back to New York! Janice thinks Kelle looks like she has a penis! So long, Leah!
New York! The Waldorf Astoria! The show opens with Cassie saying she's so hungry that her stomach hurts, as she prepares herself a delicious head of lettuce for dinner. Less roughage and more fiber, honey. She interviews that she is "very obsessed" with her weight and what she eats. There's a weird shot of the girls eating while sitting on the floor in a hallway. What, are they all playing hide and seek with Amanda again? If so, I'm sure there is ample time for a three-course meal (lettuce, celery, sugar-free mint). Julie asks Cassie how much weight she wants to lose, and Cassie says she'll keep dieting until she likes how she looks. Cassie says she is determined to be a model, and that she'll do what it takes to be skinny enough. She then does leg lifts in a tank top and underwear. Sigh. Here we go.
Amanda sits in the phone room and talks to her son, Eli. She sings "itsy bitsy spider" in a weird, baby-talking, three-year-old kind of voice. Seriously, it sounds like "Issy bissy spidew cwaled up da wadder spoud." Eli lets out a howl at the horrendous sound. See, even he knows she's a cheeseball, and he's only three! And how do I know he's three? Well, see below. Amanda interviews, "Elijah is my light...my Jah Wolf." Jah Wolf? Like Virginja Woolf? Like Teen Jah Wolf? Like Wolf Man Jah? What the fuck is that? Because I just don't understand. And then, like any decent red-blooded American, I Google. Scroll to the end. You guys? I hate her.
Back on the phone, Amanda says, "Mama loves Eli," which, let me assure you, is the first of many times in this episode that we'll be treated to someone referring to her or himself in the third person. She interviews that he is the most magical child she's ever seen. He's a leprechaun! ["Of course, the field of children she's seen isn't all that broad." -- Wing Chun] But seriously, lest you think that she's just being like any normal mom who believes that their baby invented spit bubbles -- "And have you ever seen anything so adorable as spit bubbles? Just look at them!" -- she says that he was "conceived to the hour on September 11th" and gives a knowing nod. Okay...WHAT? I mean...WHAT? First of all, "to the hour"? What does that mean? And second of all, I mean, Jesus. If you want to brag about how your kid was conceived on your honeymoon, or on the first time you ever had sex, or in the back of a Studebaker convertible, then fine. No one really wants to hear it, but whatever. But to tout the fact that your child was conceived in the midst of a national tragedy...it's just not right. And, judging from the link above, she's a bit too enamored of this fact. You guys? I really hate her. Amanda is totally the new Ann. Sorry to be so cranky, but that whole thing really irked me. In the good news column, we don't have to feel bad about the blind jokes anymore. Yay!