Welcome, friends, to another exciting recap of ANTM, America’s Nastiest Toe Medications. I am your host, I. M. Masochist. Sit back and soak those feet like the specialist told you — we’re in for one
toe jammin’ time!
Ha ha! But I am just kidding, of course! We’re here to review America’s Next Top Model, starring the estimable Tyra Banks. At the beginning of this episode, Ms. Banks descended from her diamond house nestled in the cloud city of I’m Rich, Bitch! (Dave Chappelle lives there, too) to counsel our coven of youthful moddles. I advise all of you in Internet-Land to get out your note pads, for we are about to do some book-larnin’ about moddle-things straight from Ty Ty herself.
Archetype: All moddles must determine their archetype in order to use it to become the ever-coveted “high fashion” type of moddle. For example, my personal archetype is “Cadbury Creme Egg,” for that is the shape I begin to take on every Spring when those delicious bastards force themselves into my grocery cart. When I need to appear on the runway, I don’t strut so much as roll unevenly. It is my secret weapon. STUDY QUESTION: What is your high fashion archetype?
Fame: Fame is a terrible danger of the moddle-ing industry. People want to take your picture, which is the opposite of what a moddle does. Or something. I, too, have this problem. One time I was in the 7-Eleven and my husband asked me how many Cadbury Creme Eggs I could fit in my mouth at one time. Lots of people took my picture there, as well as in the emergency room later. But famous people like me must set boundaries, so I wouldn’t let them take pictures of the Cadbury Creme Eggs I’d stuffed in my bra. STUDY QUESTION: What are your paparazzi boundaries?
Autographs: Ty Ty showed America how she signs her name. She adds a heart, which is how Abraham Lincoln often signed presidential orders.
You might think that I add an egg to my siggie, but no. I draw a rainbow-farting unicorn. I find it adds a certain elegance to my student loan checks. STUDY QUESTION: How will you turn your boring-ass name into a signature work of art?
Thick Skin: Every moddle must have a thick skin to deal with the .00000000000006% of people in the world who don’t think they are the most perfect form of woman. I’ve never had to develop this sort of mental shielding, as I’ve eaten so much chocolate that I now taste like it, and everyone likes that. STUDY QUESTION: What is your favorite way to troll a troll? Bonus points if it involves a robot.
Here endeth the Tyra lesson. I hope you’ve improved yourselves. Be sure to answer the study questions in the comments!
This week’s challenge involved autograph signing. Ms. Jay sent them to the Century City Mall to conduct themselves gracefully in the public sphere. This is just a guess, but I think the “public sphere” was a group of people who lost a bet with the manager of the mall’s Orange Julius and were forced to go coo over models they’d never heard of in the parking lot. Either that or a buncha out-of-work actors.
The Grueling Pilgrimage to the Wilds of the Century City Mall (as it came to be known) was chock full of nail-biting, hard-hitting tasks for our heroines. They bravely endured: standing, talking, wind-blowing, quizzes about favorite ice cream flavors, more talking, and more standing. It was like watching Saint George defeat the dragon, literally.
Monique told some weird dude that She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would kiss him. Voldemoddle didn’t like that one bit! Snarly looks were given all ’round. In the end, though, she did kiss him, which was super creepy. Perhaps she was cursing him evilly.
The winner of the “Don’t Be a Jerk to Other Human Beings While Standing Upright” challenge was Kasia. She won the chance to take Jaclyn and Britanni with her on a dinner date with Ms. Jay, which is actually a prize I would love. I’d ask Ms. Jay where she bought her turbans, and we’d trash talk Nigel Barker, Noted Fashion Photographer, until we passed out from champagne cocktails.
The losers of the challenge were forced into MANUAL LABOR in the form of cleaning up after their adoring fans.
Correct me if I’m wrong, blog friends, but MANUAL LABOR was not one of the dangers of modeling that Tyra talked about at the beginning of the show, was it? With no preparation for this new horror, the dauntless ladies of Cycle 16 had to face trash bags and abandoned styrofoam cups protected only by the one talent naturally bestowed upon them by the Goddess – whining.
In the winner’s circle (that was, thankfully, debris-free), Ms. Jay gave Kasia, Jaclyn, and Britanni the good advice that being nice makes people like you, and then want to hire you again.
(Feel free to hate-blog my recaps anytime, folks.)
This episode’s photographer was Jonathan Mannion, who specializes in soul-revealing portraits of ordinary people who work to improve lives in the poorest nations of the Earth. Nah, just kidding. He takes pictures of Kanye West and shit.
“Mud” was the theme of the photoshoot. The idea was that the moddles would pile on each other, covered in mud, and take black and white photos. I wonder how long it took them to come up with that idea? STUDY QUESTION: What kinds of substances can you think of to force moddles to wallow in?
Kasia, the “fiercely real, plus size model” worried about finding an angle in her swimsuit that would be flattering to her oh-so-large shape. Yes, what a terrible shape it is. She was so right to worry. I am alarmed for her.
Good thing they put her in the back.
The brunettes were judged first at panel. They worked extremely well together and turned out a bee-u-tee-ful photo. The brunettes were deemed “high fashion.”
The blondes turned out really… monotone, but pretty. Men think that this is what women do when we hang out together, and they’re right. The blondes were dubbed “billboard.”
Britanni got best photo for owning the other brunettes (that’s her above on the extreme right). Kasia was deemed Queen of the Blondes (that’s her second from left).
In the bottom were Monique and Mikaela. Mikaela for having dead eyes, like a high-cheekboned doll who creeps you out in the middle of the night. Monique for sailing through the middle, neither flying or flailing. She was sent home for being boring.
And yet, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named remains free to throw her dark mark into the sky and reign havoc over the solemn proceedings of Ty Ty and company. When will the madness end? Will it be up to one of us? The few, the ashamed, the TV watchers? Perhaps. Perhaps. Until next week, my lovelies, I bid you adieu. I’m off to carve myself a magic wand from a wooden spoon and imbue it with some magical cat hair. (At least I hope it’s magical. It’s everywhere, that’s for sure.) Sometimes, when no hero is available, we ourselves must become the exemplar.
STUDY QUESTION: How would you defeat Voldemoddle?