Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Prepare for the fierceness
HotLawyer texted me last night to inform me there was a new episode of "To Catch a Predator" on Dateline. Unfortunately, because he texted me on West Coast time, not only was the kewlness long over here, I wouldn't have been able to catch it anyways as during "TCaP" I was drinking Tsingtaos and scotch with KatieScarlett at our favorite Chinatown bar, Winnie's. There were no Seahawks fans this time, but instead they were watching "Jeopardy!" when we arrived, and I totally cleaned up in the "Double Z" and "Biblical Anagram" categories. I didn't think to ask the staff at Winnie's if they would turn on Dateline at 8 (partly because 8 p.m. signaled the start of Cantonese karaoke hour AND I was involved in a long conversation with the bartender about the mythology of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). Because of my despair over missing the new "TCaP" and my consequent lamentations that I didn't get HotLawyer's reminder text until this morning, it almost escaped my notice that tonight, one of the finest reality shows ever to grace American TV screens starts yet another season (or "cycle", as it's referred to on the show):
YES! I totally watched the free preview on the CW's website, and already I've decided who I hate (the blonde girl on the top left looks like she just smoked a pound of homemade meth while she gurgles semi-coherently about "how I just, like, think I'm going to have, like, the best time and it's gonnna be, like, so fun", while the blonde girl at the bottom claims to be "extremely intelligent" and says "I have such a tenacity of this industry"...what? ) and who I love (the girl with the fro on the upper right goes about how nice she is going to be to everyone else, but "don't get it twisted...it's all about me" and the girl on the very bottom claims she's never had a girlfriend on account of "the expression on my face...everyone thinks I'm a bitch." Believe me, honey, you ARE!)
And you better believe the featured ho on this show is still this crazy, tacky, cheap extension-wearing Oprah wannabe:
YES! I totally watched the free preview on the CW's website, and already I've decided who I hate (the blonde girl on the top left looks like she just smoked a pound of homemade meth while she gurgles semi-coherently about "how I just, like, think I'm going to have, like, the best time and it's gonnna be, like, so fun", while the blonde girl at the bottom claims to be "extremely intelligent" and says "I have such a tenacity of this industry"...what? ) and who I love (the girl with the fro on the upper right goes about how nice she is going to be to everyone else, but "don't get it twisted...it's all about me" and the girl on the very bottom claims she's never had a girlfriend on account of "the expression on my face...everyone thinks I'm a bitch." Believe me, honey, you ARE!)
And you better believe the featured ho on this show is still this crazy, tacky, cheap extension-wearing Oprah wannabe:
In the preview, Tyra immediately launches into how she chose not one but TWO plus-sized models because she's tired of everyone calling her fat. She plans to show them how they can love themselves because their extra cellulite makes them different in a good way, and promptly sets a great example for self-acceptance by Photoshopping the shit out of both of them and herself in all the promotional pictures. I bet one of the fat girls wins just so Tyra can continue ranting on her other show about how just because she weighs 150 pounds more now than when she was on the cover of the '97 Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue doesn't mean she's not still "poppin'" (sha right...in order to legitimately "pop" anything besides the waistband of her pants, bitch needs to drop the excess lard and lose the busted weave!). Already Tyra and the aspiring Lane Bryant spokesmodels are bitching about society and how it hurts their feelings when they get called fat. After all, it's not their fault they're too lazy to do any exercise besides lifting spoons full of Haagen-Dazs up to their mouths.
As usual, all the girls go on about how this is their dream come true, and who can blame them? My dream was always to be counted among the ranks of such famed beauties as Adrianne Curry, Yoanna House, Eva Pigford, Naima Mora, Nicole Linkletter, Danielle Evans, and Caridee English. Of course, the only one who might have a somewhat recognizable name is Adrianne Curry, and that's for being a reality TV whore and marrying Peter Brady rather than her illustrious modeling career, but whatever...it WAS my dream until fate rudely stole it from me because I'm five inches too short (and now five years too old) to even apply for the opportunity to read Tyra Mail, live in a house wallpapered with vintage Tyra Elle covers, participate in Tyra-centric photo shoots, let Tyra rub Vaseline all over my face and tell me she's the ultimate stylist, and possibly get yelled at by Tyra for not taking the show seriously enough. Remember in season 2 or 3 when she flipped out because the chick wasn't sufficiently sad that she got kicked off the show? That was awesome. Anyway, when I finally accepted that competing for the title of "Top Model" was not an option for me, I had to grudgingly fall back on plan B (Ph.D. in microbiology).
Also, I'm terribly depressed that the following twink won't get to criticize the way I walk or the clothes I wear, because I totally appreciate getting fashion advice from a dude (?) who spent an entire cycle wearing a spring table centerpiece as his trademark boutonierre, and currently rocks a look that's one part leprechaun, one part Catholic school girl, and one part tennis pro.
Yes, professional runway coach and "Top Model" judge J. Alexander's fashion sense is so irreparably fucked that he declared Nicole Kidman best-dressed at the Oscars the other night on E!'s "Fashion Police", and she looked like an emaciated swatch of Christmas bunting, but that doesn't stop him from derisively bellowing "Oh, HELL no," or dismissively hissing "oh, girl...please," when the contestants try to explain themselves to him at judging. I would like some clarification concerning J. Alexander's gender identity, as he answers to "Miss J" and still uses the pronoun "he", which I find very confusing. I guess his florid color schemes and tendency to make snarling cat faces is fitting for this cycle's theme of "Welcome to the Jungle."
Somehow I suspect this season of "ANTM" won't be quite as asskicking as the Guns 'n' Roses song of the same name, but hopefully it will at least be more exciting than last cycle. So far, it's looking promising...there's two fat girls, two morons who think they're smart, two unrepentant bitches, and a whole host of dumbasses staking their lives and identities on this reality TV trash, and that's hopefully a recipe for not boring the life out of me like the broads did last cycle.
J-Sexy best charge up her phone, because I predict she'll be receiving some fierce text messages from me around 8 pm EST!
As usual, all the girls go on about how this is their dream come true, and who can blame them? My dream was always to be counted among the ranks of such famed beauties as Adrianne Curry, Yoanna House, Eva Pigford, Naima Mora, Nicole Linkletter, Danielle Evans, and Caridee English. Of course, the only one who might have a somewhat recognizable name is Adrianne Curry, and that's for being a reality TV whore and marrying Peter Brady rather than her illustrious modeling career, but whatever...it WAS my dream until fate rudely stole it from me because I'm five inches too short (and now five years too old) to even apply for the opportunity to read Tyra Mail, live in a house wallpapered with vintage Tyra Elle covers, participate in Tyra-centric photo shoots, let Tyra rub Vaseline all over my face and tell me she's the ultimate stylist, and possibly get yelled at by Tyra for not taking the show seriously enough. Remember in season 2 or 3 when she flipped out because the chick wasn't sufficiently sad that she got kicked off the show? That was awesome. Anyway, when I finally accepted that competing for the title of "Top Model" was not an option for me, I had to grudgingly fall back on plan B (Ph.D. in microbiology).
Also, I'm terribly depressed that the following twink won't get to criticize the way I walk or the clothes I wear, because I totally appreciate getting fashion advice from a dude (?) who spent an entire cycle wearing a spring table centerpiece as his trademark boutonierre, and currently rocks a look that's one part leprechaun, one part Catholic school girl, and one part tennis pro.
Yes, professional runway coach and "Top Model" judge J. Alexander's fashion sense is so irreparably fucked that he declared Nicole Kidman best-dressed at the Oscars the other night on E!'s "Fashion Police", and she looked like an emaciated swatch of Christmas bunting, but that doesn't stop him from derisively bellowing "Oh, HELL no," or dismissively hissing "oh, girl...please," when the contestants try to explain themselves to him at judging. I would like some clarification concerning J. Alexander's gender identity, as he answers to "Miss J" and still uses the pronoun "he", which I find very confusing. I guess his florid color schemes and tendency to make snarling cat faces is fitting for this cycle's theme of "Welcome to the Jungle."
Somehow I suspect this season of "ANTM" won't be quite as asskicking as the Guns 'n' Roses song of the same name, but hopefully it will at least be more exciting than last cycle. So far, it's looking promising...there's two fat girls, two morons who think they're smart, two unrepentant bitches, and a whole host of dumbasses staking their lives and identities on this reality TV trash, and that's hopefully a recipe for not boring the life out of me like the broads did last cycle.
J-Sexy best charge up her phone, because I predict she'll be receiving some fierce text messages from me around 8 pm EST!
Labels: America's Next Top Model, crazies, fat fucks, J-Sexy, media whores, TV
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