Yoanna, meanwhile, is also on a cell phone, barking in a single breath to whoever it is on the other end: "Hey Mama I got a chance to call you I haven't talked to you in so looooooooooong!" Yoanna's mother hops upward to the conversational perch of "edgewise," discovering on her ascent that she still can't get a word in from that approach either, and we're right back to Yoanna chirping in a confessional, "I'm very close with my mom, so it's really been hard being away from her." She then utters those magical words all mothers long to hear, continuing on, "I miss you, but..." But?
But wait. Why on earth is Shandi on the phone with Mercedes's mother? I don't...ooooooh. Never mind. Put me in a dunce beret and shove me in a corner. It's Shandi's boyfriend, High-Pitched Eric, who tells her over the soundtrack of some easy-reader piano-sheet music (which, were it Eric playing it, he would doubtlessly choose easy-reader piano luminary "Agay"), "I'm not mad, okay? I just care about you right now." Man. Way to let her off easy when he didn't get off at all because some tall Italian stud named Michelangelo or Italiano was getting off in his stead. "It's a really horrible thing that I did," Shandi tells us, beginning a statement that shouldn't come replete with any other "but" than the one Shandi sexed her hands all over before her boyfriend dumped her, "[but] it seems like we're close enough and we care enough about each other that we're willing to work through it." Wow, Shandi. That you'd have the emotional fortitude to work through something like this. After all he's put you through. Vis à vis Lauren. And the movies. You brave, lone survivor, you.
The She-Slightly-Resembles-A-Pony-Express drops off some Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! Downstairs, the three girls discover it, Shandi reading in her best if-you-average- our-voices-together- my-boyfriend-is- almost-a-boy low growl, "Now that that there are only three of you left, cozy up into one room." What? Why? To have a bedroom and an orgy room in case High-Pitched Eric should ever find himself getting too forgiving?
Having adequately installed that Tyra Mail Spam Filter after last night's wonky message (not to mention that one that got edited out asking them to leave Milan and come save a kidnapped Tyra in the United Arab Emirates), today's Tyra Mail (Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail!) is a bit more plot-driven, telling the girls that it's time for another beauty shoot. For those of you who don't remember what a beauty shoot is, you can relive the glories of its first description here. For those of you who are maybe reading this using outdated copies of the Bank Street Writer or perhaps prefer listening to your recaps on the radio and don't have advanced linking technology so en vogue with the "hypertext" crowd, basically, here's what you're missing: a beauty shot is a picture of the face. So you better damn well be beautiful, or you'll be heading to an ugly shoot. C'mon! Y'all don't want that highly refined level of criticism on the jury? I'm right here! Anyway, Mercedes frets in a confessional that she feels she doesn't look good. Shandi notes that she feels Yoanna is her "biggest competition," fretting that Yoanna knows everything about the industry, while she doesn't even know the difference between the colors "Make Mine Mauve" and "Red Sky At Night, Sailor's Delight" at the Cover Girl counter at Walgreen's. You can remember it this way, Shandi. If the three of you are a Cover Girl beauty shot, and Mercedes is "breezy" and Yoanna is "beautiful," that would make you...what? That would make you "easy," wouldn't it? Exactly.