America's Next Top Model
The Girl Who Drives Everyone Crazy

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It Puts The Lotion On The Basket Case

Props to Potes and Adam.

New York City! Where the streets, according to a brief opening montage scored by the most offensively inoffensive lite-techno-jam since that John Tesh cover of "Everybody Dance Now," are paved with vermin. Raccoons and pigeons crawl on park benches, flocking together in herds and feasting on the tiny crumbs of the stale breads that those of us with civilized, human appetites leave behind. I would kick off this recap in the meanest way possible by straining the metaphor and suggesting that this subtle aesthetic stamp refers back to the mere crumbs a top-model-in-training would deign to eat. But I won't. And you know why? Because everybody knows that a bite of park bench would be absolutely dirty with carbs.

Up in the loftier confines of the Bratotel, the seven remaining ladies sleep the sleep of finely edited slumber, as visions of sugarplums fattening up their competition and forcing them to have to model muumuus and Mom Jeans for the rest of their lives dance in their heads. But alas, b-roll of The Skinny Seven sound asleep cannot engage us for that long -- though I wish they could have held on to at least show us one token shot of Elyse gnawing on her pillow, even though she explicitly gave up dream-eating for Lent because she doesn't want to have that nightmare where she shows up at school naked and find herself standing there looking all hippy -- and soon their trip to the REM show is interrupted by the arrival of Jon "Dumbbell" Silverman, personal trainer to the stars and also to The Skinny Seven. He runs from room to room, though he knows he could run from the actual Tokyo to the actual Miami in the same period of time if called upon to do so because he is fit, people. Jon claps his hands and yells for the ladies to "wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" Again, with the surprise exercise session! Look, Jon. Two things. Thing one: get an "h." Your name deserves one, even if it makes the spelling of it 25% more difficult for you. Thing two: why is every training session on this show depicted as The Surprise Party Of The Damned? They'll be more inclined to exercise if you'd quit dropping fifty-pound Plot Conflict Weights on their sleepy heads. Skinny bitches like being skinny and they're only bitches because...well, think of what happens to your blood sugar when you're hungry. And then replace it with "blood Sweet 'n' Low" or "blood Equal."

"The last elimination was the worst for me," confesses Giselle, as we hop into the sepia-toned not-too-distant-past to find Tyra telling an on-the-bubble Giselle, "If you don't think you're fierce, if you don't think you're hot, if you don't think you're great, then I won't." Tyra shakes her head slightly and her enormous chandelearrings sway back and forth, the Phantom of the Opera yelling "GO!" and Christine getting trapped underneath them as we approach the organ-soaked ending of Act I. Giselle nods slowly in response to Tyra's words as if in agreement, but back in a confessional lets her Riverside County flag (it reads "In Chino we trust" in Latin) fly high and trashy, confiding to us, "Constructive criticism? H'yeah, right." In fairness to Giselle, though, I can't believe Tyra totally schooled her using the old "if you don't look good we don't look good" approach. You don't want your deepest life's lessons being taught to you in the jargon of catchphrases from '80s commercials, although Giselle has clearly already bought into that as a life plan, what with her adherence to her nasty mole and her obvious feeling of "don't leave home without it." Because yes, I am a supermodel myself, thanks, and my skin is a glowing paean of shimmering clarity and my pores are so clear you can receive cable channels by facing me in a southwesterly direction.

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America's Next Top Model

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