"There's going to be a little challenge called X-treme Runway," J. tells the ladies the next day, exhausted as they are by their trip back to foreign parts called "Brooklyn." I have decided autonomously that when J. said the word "extreme," he intended it for it to be spelled "X-treme," because whenever J. talks he wants to spray it in yo face and slam it. And he wants to totally initial article seven. Anyway, said X-treme Runway will take the form of a totally legit-ass fashion show. Each of the girls has three looks they have to get into in the correct order, and the winner of the competition will get a totally freak-ass night in a recording studio with Wyclef Jean. One time? Two times! Okay, actually only one time.
And, go! Giselle is out first, and Adrianne appears confident, but she's totally just wearing underwear, so she must have forgotten something. Like, her outfit. Shannon pins closed a red shirt she was supposed to keep open, Robin preens in a mirror and runs late for each of her turns, and they finish with a round of applause from J., who is back in his black mini. Don't screw with us...he didn't actually wear that thing two days in a row, did he? With the would-be models standing in a line now, J. compliments Elyse's dress, which is the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life, including the wardrobe from every Little House episode I've never seen and every Ren Fair wedding I've never attended. J. goes through each of the girls, and I'm reminded that they must have told him to become bitchier before the second season, because his feedback here really is overwhelmingly positive. Kesse was late a lot, Robin was late (and is now mysteriously twenty-seven), Shannon buttoned a shirt that she was supposed to leave open (because the swimsuit photo shoot from last week was completely Christian), Ebony was somehow late and early, Giselle was fine, Adrianne was fine, Katie was fine but too porny, and Nicole was fine. And Giselle wins the prize, but Adrianne snarks backstage that she thinks Giselle doesn't have much confidence. Rather than the false modesty that cloaked Elyse and tangled up her own walk.
Elyse is in freak-out mode again. She tells us of the "vapid" nature of all of the conversations in the house, because I'm sure she expected lot more quoting of the lesser works of Virgil and eating camembert whilst playing chamber music in the drawing room, because that's what people in America do. Like, I work with smart people, but when we get together in a group we...talk about television. And we don't deconstruct its basic nature as a medium, either. We quote lines from NewsRadio, so the only time we say something vaguely politically intriguing, it occurs because we're quoting Phil Hartman from the episode where he becomes Mark Russell. Then we talk trash not about television, but about the people who critique television. Meaning, each other. So, alls I'm saying is that when Katie tells Giselle she thinks she'd be a good makeup model, they're actually talking industry. Again, they're dumb. Of course they are. I just don't know why Elyse would have expected anything different, and I don't know if she would come away from a weekend with me and my friends with a much different view of me than she does of them. Because she's very, very intelligent. And she wanted you to know. Twinkle twinkle, Kenneth Starr. Special Whitewater prosecu-tar.