It's Cycle 10 of America's Next Top Model, bitches. Yes, I really said 10. Our little girl is a woman now! Our traditional group of 35 semifinalists makes their way to L.A. for a little screening and training by Tyra and the Jays. In a tribute to Britney Spears, or Catholicism, or Mo'Nique, or perverts, the girls have to dress in school uniforms as they are put through their paces. The big news is that Marvita is back, and has apparently had some therapy. Note that I didn't say the therapy took. But she's had it. The photo shoot and initial runway test show us that most of them are pretty busted, and particularly Brooklyn artist Lauren, who is this season's awkward girl ugly duckling. Other standouts include Polish Cornell graduate Katarzyna, Dominique (whom the other girls call a transvestite before I even get the opportunity), Model Barbie Kim, Anya with the weird accent, the girl from Wisconsin who tries so hard to be memorable, Claire who drinks her own breast milk, Muhammad Ali's niece Shayla, plus-sized Whitney (another plus-sized Whitney!), and Fatima from Somalia.
Fatima has some problems with the other girls, which start when she tells the African-American contingent that they're ghetto. And, like, not ghetto in a good way. Shayla wants to use some of her uncle's skills on Fatima, while self-proclaimed bitch Shalynda bristles when Fatima asks if she can actually call her "bitch." Good times. All is forgiven later on when Fatima pulls the old "I was a victim of genital mutilation" card. Everyone empathizes with and comforts an emotional Fatima. Except, that is, for Marvita, whose months have therapy have taught her that this is the appropriate time to ask if Fatima feels like less of a woman. There's an initial cut down to 20, in which Shayla is most memorably given the boot, and then the girls have to go through one more photo shoot involving a fur stole to determine the final 13. Can someone please verify that that thing's not fake so that PETA can start throwing eggs at Tyra? Marvita, awkward Heather, Fatima, and a bunch of other bitches make it through, and then Tyra drops a bomb that you won't believe: this year there will be 14 finalists! That means good news for Dominique, which in turn is good news for the fake tanning industry. Let us pray for an especially bitchilicious season as the girls return to where they really belong: New York City!
Bitches! It's Top Model Cycle 10. Our little show is, like, fifty-three in reality-TV years. There have been many memorable moments throughout the seasons, some of which involve one model calling another an alcoholic bitch and/or getting beer poured on her weave; some of which involve crying over a hideous new hairdo; some of which involve hypothermia and/or dehydration and/or the horror known as veneers; some of which involve tipsy tumbles on the runway; some of which involve plus-sized girls who will never actually stand a chance at winning; some of which involve exploiting the contestants' fear of heights; some of which involve snakes, cockroaches, and spiders; some of which, yes, it's true, involve the Jays. And then, of course, there's the winner, who's almost beside the point at this stage of the game.
In any case, the competition starts now! Thirty-five semi-finalists are on a school bus, reliving their days of paper fighting and harassing the poor toothless man who was probably paid, like, $3.15 an hour to haul their skinny asses around. And then! It's Marvita! You know. Marvita. She didn't make it on the show last year because she had some "anger issues." Girl, could you have imagined her and Bianca together? Marvita has been molested and raped, and generally has some issues in her past. It's super-sad. Nonetheless, she scares the shit out of me.
The girls are dropped off at a courtyard. They wait in front of an entrance, out of which walk...the Jays. All that buildup for these two hags? There is screaming and whooping, and one girls' eyes actually roll into the back of her head. It's like she saw Jesus, and He was orange. On this climactic note, we head to commercials.
When we return, the girls are still whooping about the Jays. Jennifer, age twenty-four, from Orlando -- also known as the One Who Has Been Saved -- tells us that Miss Jay is working it and that Mr. Jay is fine. I will give her that he's wearing his suit well. However, he looks like he's in Technicolor. Meanwhile, Miss Jay is wearing his best dowdy schoolmarm cardigan with a bow tie. Fierce. Mr. Jay tells the girls that school is now in session. Shaya, age eighteen -- from the improbably named Country Club Hills, Illinois -- says that she's happy about this because she studies fashion, she loves fashion, and she likes to create beauty. Because she's beautiful. Don't hate her because of it. Or do. What crap could I possibly give? Thirteen girls will make the final cut, say the Jays, and the others will be expelled. Maybe some really dastardly Children's Hour shit will start going down.
The girls head to a locker room, where they put on their uniforms. Yes, they have schoolgirl uniforms. Mo'Nique is all, "Tyra, you'd better step off of my shtick, because as many ribs as you eat, I can still crush your comparatively skinny ass." Amy, age twenty, from Bartlesville, Oklahoma, tells us that a lot of her friends think she's weird, but in a positive way. She looks at all the beautiful, interesting girls around her, and wonders what the heck she's doing there. I wonder where this mythical "there" is where beautiful and interesting girls are plentiful. Maybe she discovered a portal in one of the locker-room showers? Amy's face looks extra-crispy.