Possibly the only establishing shot of a subway ever used on this show, ever, cuts to a shot of the Soho neighborhood where the second-season loft was located, and then shoots us up to the exterior of the Not!otel. I'm dizzy and my Metrocard is totally out of money, y'all. Tyra explains in a confessional, "For models first starting out, living space is at a premium. So with three girls already gone, I had the girls from the Miami room into the Tokyo room to keep it real." To keep it real? Just say "to shake shit up." It's reality television. We know that's what's going on, and that's why we like it. It's fine. But if you say "keep it real" and then keep these "models first starting out" on the penthouse floor of a luxury hotel in the middle of midtown Manhattan, I'm missing the reality of this reality. Here. Let me tweak it for you: "For models first starting out, living space is at a premium. So with three girls already gone, I had the Miami room filled with a family of aggressive hobos who are totally dirty with scabies."
Robin, meanwhile, checks in from the packyourbagsy'allwe'regoin'to-Milan Room, from which she has the raging gall to report, "We [Robin, Shannon, and Kesse] have this whole side to ourselves now. It's wonderful. God is good." She then looks smugly down toward the licking fires of hell that shall consume all but her one goodly day. Y'know, Robin, when people thank the Lord for "small favors," I think they mean, like, not having cancer.
Giselle, you're just shitty TV is all. You might well even be a nice person. I really don't know. She tells us that she was excited that Adrianne was moving into her room, and that it was "okay that Ebony was moving in because we hadn't had any kind of problems...yet." She then pauses and sighs elaborately, an exhale so strong that, as soon as they cut, you could hear Elyse's voice echoing from out in the hallway, "How the hell did I end up all the way over here?"
Okay, now it's night. The girls are in their pj's getting ready to hit each other lightly and playfully with soft and downy pillows when -- dun nun nun NA nuh NA! Charge! -- J. Alexander appears in the middle of the penthouse's living room. He's come from shopping in the future, because how else do you get to be as trendy as J., y'all? Robin and Shannon go flying to meet him, and Shannon confessionalizes, "He is the runway expert, totally...He can work that runway!" She loves him like a homophobic puppy adores its flamingly gay master. She will fetch him his pipe and Pride flag. I'm sorry, but she ADORES him. Adrianne -- whose makeover has just made her over into an older, more cracked-out Scarlett Johansson, and I'm glad that I at least finally figured that shit OUT -- agrees that J. is "the bomb." And she's wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt, so she can say alt-metal words like "the bomb."