Anyone know the French word for "montage"? Well, look it up in your English To English, French To French Dictionary, people (no, not the Bible. The one to the...no, not that bible, either. The one with the...okay, that's actually also a Bible. Oh, good, that's a copy of Women's Wear Daily, so that's...which you ripped the pages out of so you could conceal the fact that you were actually reading...the Bible? Okay. Y'know what? Forget it. Look, I just said FORGET IT, so can we not fight here, because you're really just embarrassing yourself. No, why don't YOU shut up? Look Betty, don't start up with your white zone shit again. There's just no stopping in a white zone. Oh really, Vernon? Why pretend, we both know perfectly well what this is about. You want me to have an abortion), because that's...sigh. Actually, y'know what? I can't pretend that fight with my internal monologue didn't totally make me lose my train of thought. Let's start over. Sorry. Just forget this paragraph ever happened. Don't look at me. I'm hideous. Shut up, Robin.
Anyone know the French word for montage? Well, look it up in your English To English, French To French Dictionary, people, because that's how we'll be reintroducing ourselves to Paris at the beginning of this week's episode. The top of the Eiffel Tower! The base of the Eiffel Tower! The entire Eiffel Tower! A concert by '70s funk visionaries, Tower of Power! A full-on serenade of "Power of Love," by Huey Lewis and the News. What a beautiful day it is here in the city of Free-Association-on-Seine.
Motaging us right past the most culturally-specific centers of the country and ensuring that we'll never learn the best locations in which to purchase French fries, French bread, French dressing, and to drink, Peru, we're right back at the entrance of the Hotel de Deux Acacias (translated here, for those of you not of the continent, as "hotel of the two acacias"). The four remaining girls -- Robin, Robin Lite, Dr. God Hater, and Rocky Balboa -- step off the elevator, almost doing some hilarious Monkees choreography when Adrianne's broad shoulders almost fail to make it through the narrow doors. With Robin totally playing the Micky Dolenz role.
Shannon lies on her bed and reads from The Book Of Poses Too Sexy For Reading His Holy Word (which, conveniently, comes right before The Book Of Take Off Your Top You Fucking Hypocrite, in case she should need to adopt some of that book's teachings at any point in the future) while Robin ambles around the room scowling at everything and knowing for certain that at least the afterlife won't be anything like her time at The Hotel Of The Two-Thread-Count Sheets, or however it translated above. Meanwhile, Adrianne and Elyse retreat to what looks like some kind of youth-hostel dining-room space, which must be close enough to Robin and Shannon that they for some reason feel the need to whisper. I thought they were in a hotel with rooms. Where is this random dining nook, then? And, most importantly, when did Mr. Brady get the contract to design the interior of The Hotel Of The Two Alternate Architectural Realities?
Adrianne and Elyse park themselves at a table at the It's Never Been There Before Today Café, where they speak so covertly and quietly that they're accompanied by English language subtitles, because this is the American release of Trainspotting and Robin will now instead be playing the role of the baby on the ceiling because she is reminiscent of heroin withdrawal and all of its residual side effects. And here is what Elyse says: "It sucks that Kesse is gone. It sucks a lot. I really liked her," Elyse mourns, taking a heaping bite of You-Didn't-Care -About-Her-That- Much-When-She- Was-There-O's, the French breakfast treat with a richly ironic crunch that, if part of a heart-healthy diet, may even lower your Kesse-lesterol a few points. Adrianne is right there with her, whisper-agreeing, "I liked her, too. She's the only one besides you who didn't judge me all the time." Except that Elyse thinks Adrianne is a crappy listener, but it's not true unless you say it directly to someone's face, people. I mean, I know they made a few concessions to this notion of Kesse being a nice person, but where is this "kitten-with-a-whip diplomat who bridged the two warring ideologies" characterization busting out of suddenly? This totally reminds me of this one summer a few years ago I spent in Scotland working on a show, where we were all underpraised and underloved by each other, and thus began to project all of the love we were missing in the world onto the guy who worked in the sandwich shop door to our apartment. He'd smile at us and say really reassuring things like "Here's your panini, chap," which we'd hear as "Of course the lack of natural light in this godforsaken place doesn't make your skin look sallow" or "You barely look a day over twenty-one yourself" and then we'd feel all glow-y and better until Sunday came and the sandwich place wasn't open and we'd see ourselves for the hideous shrews that we really were. Kesse is like that sandwich guy. Except that he really did make one hell of a panini.
"So who's left in?" Elyse continues on, answering her own question in the strange parlance of responding like she's in a scene in the second act of Guys & Dolls, "The holiest holy-rollers and the bottom of the barrel." Since the elimination of good old reliable Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan Detroit, that is! In a confessional, Robin agrees that things haven't been the same since "Miss Kesse" left, although we can assume that Robin's use of "title" and then "first name" indicates that her relationship to Kesse was quite a bit different than anyone else's. That being, Kesse was, apparently, her nursery-school teacher. We flash back to last week's elimination, while Robin voices over, "I physically could not stand up. I remember leaning on the wall." Yeah, take that, Elyse. You may have experienced the physiological response of firing neurons that led to the scientifically-explicable emotional state of "sadness" at Kesse's departures, but only a good, honest Christian like Robin would be able to reach deeply enough into herself and pull out a full-on case of the biblical vapors. Explain that away, you heartless scientician. Shannon agrees that "a little piece of [her] went away" when Kesse got the boot, because Robin told her to say it because God told Robin to tell Shannon what to do and that was the way it was and we liked it.
Back downstairs (?) at the Algonquin Square Card Table, Adrianne waxes philosophical -- which is seriously the last thing any aspiring model should bother waxing -- "I believe in a higher power. I don't believe that higher power asks you to sacrifice your every damn moment for him." She continues on in a confessional that she does believe in God, adding, "I'm just not psychotic about it." Back at the table, Adrianne continues to sport French high fashion by wearing her signature version of the white Hermes scarf, decked out in her camouflage headband and -- holy living mother of Tyra, what happened to Adrianne's head? Oh, there it is -- and complains that Robin rolls her eyes when Adrianne prays. But, honestly, if I'm God (just go with me for a second), I'd probably hear that voice lift up to the heavens and before I even heard the words it was saying, I'd be all, "I'll bet this is another one praying for better corn dogs at Wrigley and for Ditka to run for President. Got it." I'm just saying that, as God, I'm rolling my eyes too, a little. Elyse responds that she feels as if "half the house is under control of Robin, and our half is under the control of the devil." The devil goes by many names, Elyse. And "Robin" is one of them. And, apparently, "devil" is another. "Things would have definitely sucked if my closest ally in the house had been eliminated," Elyse confessionalizes. "I'm really, really glad that Adrianne stayed on." One final shot of The Brigadoon Lunchroom finds Elyse and Adrianne high-fiving and Adrianne announcing, "Boo-yah!" I do believe that the higher power would probably ask her not to do that.
And now, for another rollicking episode of Indulging Dilettante Fantasies I: Smile, You're On Candid Tyra. Which, to be honest, was a better gambit overall than Indulging Dilettante Fantasies II: Falling On Deaf Ears, Or Ears That Wish They Were during the second season. I can only guess what Miss Tah-ra will try her hand at in Season 3, now that photography and singing are off the list. Maybe she'll paint them all in a Last Supper kind of thing, with herself in the Jesus role and her disciples all around her. Anyway, we land at an undisclosed location on a balcony in, let's say, France, where we find Tyra doing each of the girls' makeup and confessionalizing to us, "I've been photographed by every top photographer in the world. And I've taken pointers from every one of them. That's why I decided to shoot the girls myself." Out on a balcony overlooking such decidedly European architecture as a few low shanties and a grey façade whose only flair comes from the letters spelling out "Fuji Film" (hell of an eye for location scouting, Miss Photographer), Tyra shoots each of the girls in black-and-white. Tyra tells us that while she was photographing each of them, she started to feel that the girls understood "the possibility of becoming a major star." Or, in Robin's case, becoming an even more major pain-in-the-ass: "What comes with this is power," she tells us. "The right person could use this as a modem to touch people. To make change." And I seriously didn't even know where to put the sic in that sentiment, since there isn't anything grammatically wrong with it. FOR ONCE. But...modem? You guys, I swear that's exactly what she says. "Use this as a modem," which makes as much contextual sense as saying "use this as a kumquat" or "use this as a subatomic particle" or "use this as a marching band." Did she mean "mode," perhaps? "Method"? Whatever it is, Robin. Don't use it to touch people. And don't touch me at all.
Carven! Never heard of it? ["Isn't that where the Fudgy the Whale cakes come from? And if so, why is Elyse there?" -- Wing Chun] Tyra, in a confessional in which she's bedecked in an outfit that would indicate she's going straight from this taping to her audition for the Los Angeles stage production of Newsies (hopefully still starring Christian Bale and hopefully not featuring a "with additional music" credit that demands that any of those boys "Shake Ya Body" to get that crusty old Joe Pulitzer off their backs), explains Carven as "the oldest couture house in all of Paris." The girls walk into an enormous store that covers several acres over two floors, where they note ridiculously flashy couture featuring a confounding amount of frills, jewels, and feathers, the cumulative effect making it look like the entire GDP of a small nation was put in a cage match with an ostrich inside a diamond mine and the ostrich did not win. Tyra enters wearing a black suit, chic sunglasses, and pulled-back hair on her way to callbacks for The Matrix IV: Please Take Me Seriously As An Actress, Dammit, and immediately goes into her stump speech: "As you know, Paris is the fashion capital of the world" -- until the season, when Milan totally was -- "and the fashion capital of couture modeling." She continues on that the centerpiece of the couture look is the "chignon," which is basically pulling the hair back into a bun. You know who rocked the high-fashion chignon? Alice from The Brady Bunch. In an overdub so obvious it looks like it was orchestrated by Ed Wood after losing some aged star during filming, we see the back of Tyra's head while a totally unmatching vocal clip tells them, except not, "Tomorrow, you'll be tested on your ability to carry yourself in a couture situation." But first, today, we will meet "Pascal Millet," who is the creative director of Carven Paris, which means he waves his right arm in disgust several hundred times a day and laments, "Mais non! Ees no good!" as lackeys scatter and models smoke. But today, he explains the couture industry to them, and once again we are met with English subtitles of English speech, this time because his Fronch accent is so strong they had to add in some patronizing notes for the hometown crowd. And here is what he says: "Couture is not only showing clothes, it's showing an attitude, an allure. You will see the clothes, you will try the clothes, and you will understand." Why will they understand? Will the clothes also be translated from English to English?
So you guys know who the best inadvertent couture model in history is, then? Willy Wonka. I don't mean to sound lowbrow or anything, but they're all wearing these crazy hats and colors and they cost so many golden tickets to buy and Adrianne's life story is basically the first two verses and a chorus of "Cheer Up, Charlie" anyway. They are outfitted in some serious finery, and Adrianne tells us that she was wearing a $20,000 gown, which is followed with the question, "How are you not gonna like some gown that's worth more than your house and your car?" Really, Adrianne? Really? The total net worth of your home and your automobile is less than $20,000? Because that sounds like you had some serious bad luck at that MASH game we used to play on long bus rides to field trips to Safety Town and the planetarium and stuff, because it means that your house is your car. And your car has a bumper sticker reading "my other car could beat up your kid's honor student" or something tax-bracket-appropriate on it.
Back at the Hotel Two Cap, Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! informs the ladies as such: "Tomorrow is your day. You have from 10-3 to enjoy Paris and all the splendors it has to offer." Adrianne, bless her ghetto heart, points at Elyse right away and expresses her desire to go to the Eiffel Tower and to Jim Morrison's grave. But Robin and Shannon want nothing more than to go shopping, Robin going out of her way to underscore the cultural differences between herself and the others in asking, "Who is Jim Morris?" Ooooh, trick question. Where's my blackboard and pointer? Jim Morris has been everything from a journeyman pitcher who was the inspiration for the film The Rookie and is probably very surprised to find himself buried in Paris when he just signed with Los Angeles, and Jim Morris is also a self-described "Gulf and Western" singer-songwriter (find that website, people, and then come over and we'll all have a good laugh over that kick-ass "Freaky Tiki" picture). But Jim Morrison, according to Adrianne is, "the lead singer of The Doors, one of the most influential bands that has ever existed on the face of the earth." Influential in leading to the creation of the sixth worst Val Kilmer movie of all time? Yes. Influential in doing anything for rock music that didn't involve me burying my head in the pillow of my dorm room bed and screaming, "Someone just invent Mapquest already so I can tell the stoner freaks on three how the hell to get to the whiskey bar, already." Oh, fine. Since you asked:
1. The Saint
2. The Island Of Dr. Moreau
3. At First Sight (I'm guessing. I didn't see it.)
4. Tie: Willow and Batman Forever
5. Everything else that isn't Real Genius
And, everyone's mad. Elyse insists for some reason that she doesn't think it's wise for them to break off into two groups, so she says that they should compromise. They'll go with Adrianne to Jim Morrison's grave and then she'll go shopping with them. Makes sense, yes? Robin: "I wanna go shopping. I said I want to go shopping." Elyse doesn't understand why Robin won't compromise at all, and Adrianne storms out as Robin shouts, "I don't go see graves. Just like you don't believe in God, I don't go see graves. I don't try to make you believe in God, do I?" Oh, it's genius! Elyse runs away in tears and sits downstairs (WHERE?) with Adrianne, saying that she's crying because she was frustrated. Back upstairs, Robin tells her Bible, "It's four people with four different things they want to do. We'll have to compromise into two groups." Well, that's not really "compromise," per se, but I don't totally understand why they weren't just going to go off in two groups to begin with. Adrianne shares with us in a confessional that she "doesn't seem very Christlike to me. In fact, I think she worships the devil." She continues this exegesis by telling Elyse, "All this stuff she's pretending to be. If there really is this big, wonderful man in the sky, he's gonna whoop her ass when she gets up there." Elyse shakes her head sadly and puts too fine a point on it, noting, "I was trying to keep it from becoming the two of them versus you and me. But that's it." Yeah, if those two groups break up into separate factions, it could be really...exactly what's already happened.
Man, it really was just one split-screen away from being the perfect sequence. Adrianne and Robin take off in one direction and Robin and Shannon in another. Because of the good Christian agenda that rewards cramming one simple idea down our throats over and over again (I wanna go shopping I wanna go shopping I wanna go shopping Iraq has the capacity to attack I wanna go shopping) until it gains veracity in the frightened, cowed, undereducated half of the population, Robin and Shannon take off onto the streets of Paris. Adrianne tells us in a confessional that she knew Elyse didn't want to go to Jim Morrison's grave either, but that Elyse sacrificed for her. They wander aimlessly through a cemetery and opt instead for taking wacky Photomat pictures of themselves while cackling montage-ily. Meanwhile, punished by the editing for their godlessness, it's raining where Robin and Shannon are. Raining frogs and locusts. Better not have a first-born on your shopping spree, ladies, because no one knows better than you how soon he shall be slain. "Adrianne and I did our thing," Elyse explains, "and Robin and Shannon went to The Gap." Heh. No snark necessary from me THIS week, I guess. "In retrospect, I don't know why I wanted the four of us to stay together at all." Robin and Shannon, meanwhile, can't find their way back to the hotel, and a confessional finds Shannon telling us, "Some things Robin does might get on my nerves after a little while," and we cut back to find Robin walking about ten paces in front of Shannon, calling behind her, "C'mon, Shannon, you gonna have to walk faster." Guess she upgraded from her 56K modem. Which is strange, because everything she says sounds like a lot of dial-up static to me.
Speaking of which...you've got mail! What kind of mail? Oh, that's easy: Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! Anyway, Robin starts to...You've got pictures! I...do? You've got pictures! No, there's nothing saying I should click on a thing that...You've got pictures. Crap! What is wrong with this...wait. Do I want to accept an instant message from "Skaerboi18"? Well, my heart says yes, but...You've got pictures! Wait. Now it's crashing. Hang on. Restart. Okay, this new modem is crap, y'all.
Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! "You have until 4 PM to get ready for a spectacular night out." Adrianne and Elyse arrive at the hotel a quick cut later, and they pull themselves together in a right hurry. Shannon discovers that they have only fifteen minutes more to ready themselves for the evening, a-cussin' and a-bitchin', "Holy poop!" Okay, that is so much grosser and more descriptive than just yelling out the actual expression, don't you think? But then again, my mind has been warped from the amount of bad language on Six Feet Under ["to say nothing of the amount of actual poop on same" -- Wing Chun], and it led me to seriously consider a relationship with IM spam in that last paragraph, so my more recent attempts at social mores are clearly not to be trusted.
Carven under the stars. Monsieur Not Articulate Enough To Have His Spoken English Stand On Its Own (and yet Robin don't get no subtitles or nuttin') meets them in the store, and tells them, "Tonight, you will go to a fancy restaurant where you will meet four guys from the society of Paris. But to go there, of course you have to wear a couture dress." Fun! But, first of all, what is "The Society Of Paris"? It is just four socialites from France, or is The Society Of Paris some secret order responsible for controlling the British crown and keeping the metric system down? And The Society Of Paris sings back, "We do! We do!" ["Not in France. They love the metric system. But I take your point." -- Wing Chun] Monsieur Not Articulate Enough To Have His Spoken English Stand On Its Own outfits each of the girls in a black gown, and for some reason Adrianne looks like they forgot the dress part of the dress, as her couture only technically exists in one dimension in the front, 'cause on the side it's just made outta titties. Elyse looks like she's wearing a black couture dress. Robin is one lady-in-waiting fan away from busting out into the opening number of The Mikado. And only Shannon possesses the singular ability to wear a $20,000 black couture dress in Paris and have a team of fashion experts eye her from across a crowded room and ask in unison, "Quelle couleur est celle, vanilla?" Monsieur Not Articulate Enough To Have His Spoken English Stand On Its Own shares with them that this is a social challenge, and that the winner "will go to the presidential suite of a big hotel in Paris." Robin, wearing all seven deadly sins around her neck in one ornate necklace, stares down at her Bible. Shannon wonders silently if that means she'll have to sleep with the president.
Elyse hates God and reminds us on the limo ride over, via a confessional, "We've been living in really close quarters in our model apartment, and every single girl is fantasizing about spending a night away from there." Shannon flashes her big, toothy, one-watt-over- whatever-wattage- is-considered-pleasant- as-perceived-by- the-human-eye smile and sings a song that goes, "Are you excited/ Are you excited/ Yay yay yay yay yay/ I'm so excited." Ordinarily, I would be impressed with anyone who writes a whole new song all by themselves, but I actually think she's just singing The Pointer Sisters' song the way it was censored for Southern radio all the times she's ever heard it, like how "I Want Your Sex" became "I Want Your Love" and "Short Dick Man" became "Short Short Man" and "The Alabama Song" ended with the up-with-Prohibition refrain, "Show me the way/ To the whiskey bar/ So we can give tithe/ So we can give tithe/ For when we shall find/ The whiskey bar/ We'll explain eternal hellfire/ And maybe hand out some flyers/ We must have temperance/ Or we'll yell, 'Fie!'" Thanks, Clear Channel!
Banter in the limo about the pronunciation of "Fouquet's" (by Price is Right rules, no one guessed closest without going over, so I guess we've learned that there are no winners here) leads them into a lavish eatery, where they are met by four gentlemen who comprise a somewhat lacking Society of Paris. They're suited up like a junior high school Model Congress meeting is about to break out, and they each kiss the girls on the cheek because that's what society men do. One of them is named Adrian, and I'd like to submit that we just call him Gaydrian and get it over with. I know he's also European, but...come on. They all sit around a table and eat oysters and other Fear Factor-y looking food. Robin shares with her male-pattern-balding date, "It's different." Adrianne tells us that Robin was being a "bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch," and says that, between Robin's attitude and the Joker-ish smile planted on Shannon's face, she felt like she could "nab this opportunity." Off the limo goes to take them to a ballet. I'm sure the cameras were not allowed into the theater, so they take the oddest shot from the Stock Footage Film Festival of a PBS ballet and paste it in. Back in the car, Adrianne chats up the men and asks them what they think of "American accents," which is a blanket generalization question basically akin to asking someone if they like "food" or "time" or "any kind of porn." Robin sits in stock-still silence, waiting until she's in a confessional to tell us about the "lustful type of men" who were in the limo with her. She sits primly with her bible on her lap, which might as well be the latest copy of Sky Mall, which Robin is ensuring will be the reading material she comes into contact with.
Up in the presidential suite, it's the whole pretty room thing. An enormous room with a huge bed and rose petals and champagne and so on. Champagne is poured and Robin and Shannon abstain, Monsieur Hairline sending the four women out of the room so that he, Gaydrian, and the two other gentlemen who never spoke make a decision on who is the most ladylike. Gaydrian says that Robin did not live up to social standards and food standards, Adrianne is seen is "brilliant" (which...come on ["he probably meant 'bright' in the sense of 'lively,' but didn't have the English vocabulary -- or so I choose to fanwank it, because there's no way anyone thinks Adrianne is 'brilliant' in the sense of 'smart'" -- Wing Chun]) but less "witty" than Elyse, and Shannon wears her dress well but comes across as "cold." Back in the room, the weirdest challenge ever ends with Monsieur Hairline choosing Adrianne for her night in the Fantasy Suite. She chooses Elyse as her partner, and a quick cut later the man have gone and the girls are in white robes jumping on the bed for a good long time. They chug champagne from the bottle and eat chocolate cake, Adrianne flitting around and sing-songing, "I live in a mansion in Paris! I live in a mansion in Paris!" Adrianne notes to Elyse that she felt like this has been set up as a romantic night for the two of them, and we cut to a perfectly staged shot of Adrianne carrying Elyse across the threshold of their bedroom. They go to sleep in the same bed, Adrianne smoking and asking Elyse if she has her top on. She does. But not for long. They lie back in their enormous bed and Adrianne tells us in a confessional, "I guess I proved that I can be a broad." She wishes Elyse a "Goodnight, slut ho," and the only person who wouldn't have thoroughly enjoyed that sequence would have found a way to drown it out anyway, sitting in front of her television in Memphis, Tennessee thinking about all the clothes she gets to keep on all the time in her glamorous life as not a top model, drowning out the sound of the word combo "slut ho" with a repeatedly clucked chorus of, "Oh, ma word."
Buddha-Bar is "nuts" according to Adrianne, and "the Parisian version of The Fez" to everyone else. It's a two-story (at least) restaurant with an enormous Buddha in the middle, and apparently it's very chic-o-la, but it just doesn't read on television. So leave it to Jay "Mano A" Manuel to explain it to us: "A lot of celebrities come here. Now you can say you've been here, too." Y'all, it's located at 8 Rue Boissy d' Anglais, M. Concorde. Now you can say you've been there, too. Jay continues that they're going to do "black, charcoal eyes" for a shoot advertising diamonds. Oh, yeah. And they'll be nude. At the mere mention of this word, the lilting French accordion music on the soundtrack screeches to a halt, leaving in its vacuum the actual sound -- yes, they took pains to dub this in -- of crickets chirping. Jay continues that they'll be adding extra hair (ew, not like that) to cover the naughty bits of the ladies, and Jay turns the conversation over to the photographer, Patrick Katzman, to discuss how he's going to make porn stars out of them yet: "Don't worry. We're going to do a lot of hands across the chest, hands across the lower body." Jay editorializes even further on this, counseling them, "Think, just...wild!" Thanks, Jay.
We're packing up from Paris. Adrianne tells us that she "loved Paris," while Robin shares, "Paris has left a bittersweet taste in my mouth." Wrong. Not an expression. So it's a good thing she takes some time and is really thoughtful in articulating her parting shot from Paris: "France is gorgeous. But my experiences in France, they weren't the most happiest [sic]." Sigh. I...sigh. A stock footage plane we're supposed to believe they're on takes off, and we're back in New York City, with its Milan Room that all four of the girls now need to live in. The forwarding address seems to have worked, for there's a Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! waiting for them, reading, "Welcome back...tomorrow, three of you will continue on to become America's Top Model. One of you will be eliminated." They all sound amazed that the elimination is the following day, but the Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! never lies, and...Robin, what's with all the unpacking?
And, just like that, we're back in the elimination room. Prizes reminded and judges introduced, Tyra turns her attention to this week's guest judge, who is...ACK! It's the glamorous Derek Khan, but what the hell happened to him? I liked him better when he was bedecked in fur and pointing at windows, not freshly back from a tribal head-shrinking ritual with the Crypt Keeper. Gah. Don't go emailing me some note that's all, "Dude, he looks like that because he's dying." Because I beg to differ. For he is already dead.
Small Head Todd administers the challenge, giving them ten minutes to run to their room (is the elimination room in the hotel? I'm so freaked out) and accessorize themselves in a whole bunch of couture he's left out for them. Elyse is first in, entering the room in a dress that's firmly on the ROY side of the ROY G. BIV scale, very bright and colorful and billowy on the bottom. Tyra notes that she looks "fabulous," and she's complimented across the board. Her nude photo is , and Tyra tells her that she has a "booty" that is "big" and "juicy," which causes The Shriveled Voodoo Head Of The Once Fabulous Derek Khan to put on its glasses, which are now a novelty-Spencer-Gifts-type of too big on his head, considering the recent tribal shrinkage. Anyway, he notes with some shock, "She looks fat in that picture!" which is definitely the top review you could offer to the girl the show keeps telling us has an eating disorder.
Shannon is , and her Halloween costume is "Dressed for the future at the 1928 World Fair." Right away, Tyra chides her for failing to pull her hair back, and Shannon tells her that she ran out of time. Moving on, Tyra asks why they can't seem to find her photo anywhere, and Shannon grandstands that she never wants to pose nude. Janice, whose hair is pushed so far to one side of her head it appears as if she's going to tip over and probably not even notice, snipes, "You might as well go work in a car factory or a bakery." Tyra interjects, explaining that she won't pose nude, but that she will simulate it. Janice has no idea what a "car factory" or a "bakery" is.
Adrianne is up , wearing a long black dress and nothing underneath. The Shriveled Voodoo Head Of The Once Fabulous Derek Khan throws her a rose to the endless entertainment of the rest of the panel, but it's kind of a bittersweet taste in my mouth because I know they're only humoring him because they know he's dying. Adrianne's photo is, according to Janice, "exquisite." Baby Phat thinks she photographs beautifully, but says she's sometimes too "buff" for her. But then again, in my perception of Season 1, Baby Phat doesn't really exist, so let's pretend she's not there and replace her in our minds with something prettier. May I suggest ponies?
It's Robin! And she looks like Blossom! Just as a sidebar, do you know how gratifying it is that if you Google the words "and she looks like Blossom," it brings up one of my recaps? Is that an impressive enough achievement for a headstone? What if you add the words, "Devoted son and..." before it?
Anyway. It is Robin. And she does look like Blossom. So take off the effing hat. Tyra asks Robin why there's no picture for her, and they let her speech on that "my body is mine. I just didn't think that that is what I needed to do to get ahead." But Tyra's right there with the zinger, telling her that she doesn't understand why Robin would say no to a nude shoot, but would say yes to shaking her chest at Jay. Robin tries to pretend that she just opened the curtain for a second, but Tyra takes her there on the definition of what is "is," shouting, "Jiggle, shimmy, I saw them go up and down." Janice calls out, "Where was your Bible when you were shaking your titties?" Does she say "titties"? I really think she does.
And, they're back. And who is still in the running toward becoming America's Top Model? Elyse. And Adrianne. Yeah, no crapping crappity-crap. Shannon and Robin, please do us the honors. Tyra admires Robin's faith and her strength, but "human is beautiful, perfect is boring." And Shannon is pretty, but a little "too commercial." Anyway, see you later, Robin. Robin smiles her best pageant smile and takes leave of the room without more than a wave of a goodbye to the other girls. Back in Milan, she tells us that she had "a chance to show a variation of beauty." She puts on her giraffe of a fur coat and fades from the Photoshopped picture, all of which requires a really good modem.