Speaking of judges, it's important for Tyra to let us know, "Sometimes the judges had...well, a difference of opinion." I love it that when the girls fight, it's played for drama, and when the judges fight, it's played for camp. And aired to me alone. Come back, everybody! Janice and Jay sit at opposite sides of The Dais Of Arbitrary Reasoning And Sometimes Comically Small Dogs, Jay telling the group in regard to Heather, "She looks like a porno star." Janice is incredulous (and, according to her, the first ever to be so, I'm sure, ever), shooting back, "No, she does not," quickly adding, "So do you." With no provocation other than the fact that they seem to have had this fight sixteen times before, Jay shoehorns in a joke he's been dying to try out, pointing to Janice and calling her "Silicone Valley, over there." Oh, at least engage your imagination and call her by a human name like "Silicone Alli," so that we could go ahead and make a Janice Dickinson Garbage Pail Kid out of it, one with comically large fake breasts. We could even call the B-card "Tittie Politti." Or "Bethany."
Catie apologizes to a tearful Xiomara, saying that she fears no one's shoot was a hundred percent. But it doesn't matter anyway, because Heather leaves, and she tells us in her final confessional, "I'm prettier than a lot of the girls." Well, Janice. And, okay, Jay. Anyone else?
End of Episode 3. Thank you, Red Rocks! We'll be back in exactly fifteen minutes!
And, Simon Doonan! All we ever wanted was exactly what happened when Simon -- or, as I call him "Jenascia XY," for short -- was on, except with an eight-inch extended megamix. So here's one now! He tells the girls that in order to develop a personal style, "we have to play the branding game." He indicates a large, random post in the middle of the room with a selection of words ("laid back," "addicted to black") and gives them one minute to grab a word that best pertains to them. Sara thinks she's "exotic," and Simon asks, "As in dancer?" Mercedes is "coquettish" because it sounds like a side effect of lupus. Catie stands up and reminds us that she's just gotten a haircut, and has decided to celebrate with black legwarmers, heels, a blue mini-skirt, and a yellow tank top. And purple eye shadow. In the awesomely calculated payoff of putting Catie last, Simon hits a perfect fever pitch to this evaluation by instructing Catie to "go down where the hookers hang out by the docks and see what they're wearing and then avoid it." Catie mutters a sarcastic "okay" and re-takes her perch, allowing for Simon to chastise the girls that they need to be a little more self-critical. Catie takes her cue off this, back-talking, "You called me a ho!" Simon fact-checks that he "would never say anybody was a ho. I would say that's ho style." Well, Simon, that depends on what you mean by the word "is." She's not cheese. She's "cheese-like product." She's the Combos of hookers, an imitation even more believable than the original. But the fight escalates, Catie starting to cry (and watch out for the reaction shots of the other girls cracking up at this latest predictable meltdown) and dictating policy, "If it was you and me talking, that's cool," and Simon tells her that she might have underestimated the seriousness of the competition, warning, "You knew when you entered into this competition that you're not going to sit there for three weeks with an umbrella drink with everybody telling you how fabulous you are." Ha! I love it. Next time he needs to add the term "chaise longue" to that snark and he's all set as my Mini-Me. And whether it's "ho" or "ho style," y'all take a look at Catie's outfit right now. Seriously, I just slipped that girl a five and she blew my TV's picture tube.