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Posts Tagged ‘ANTM’

ANTM – Down with The Sickness

This week put me back in TV Nirvana, with the return of Survivor and 30 Rock to my regular Monday night viewing. No more of that silly crack-version of cricket. Which brings me to this week’s real episode of America’s Next Top Model, not that watered down recap show they showed us last week.

This week we were back in Thailand, and the 5 remaining girls had to learn how to do traditional Thai dancing. Now it can immediately be seen (and after confirmation on the all-mighty wiki) that this is essentially Thailand’s highest art form. Which should mean that it be treated with a little bit of respect and not allowing it to be defiled by a bunch of underfed, malnourished, well below-average IQ, American toothpicks.

Thai Dance: Usually high art

Thai Dance: Usually high art

The gem that emerged from learning how to dance in the Thai way was Jade learning that raising your hand above eye-level is considered arrogant. Her response: “That’s good to know, cos Jade doesn’t have an ounce of arrogance in her system.” Sweety, you need to get yourself a tape recorder and listen to yourself. All the dancing proved a little too much for Danielle, who proved that if you don’t eat for a couple of days, you will end up in the hospital attached to a drip. Srsly. Eventually, after taking a big stinky dump on Thai culture, Joanie was declared the winner.

Danielle returned from the hospital, against the doctor’s orders, to do her   the next day. This involved the girls being trucked into the jungle on elephants, to go and shave their legs. Because when you’re trapped in the middle of the jungle, the most important thing is that you’re razor is operated with batteries so that your legs can stay smooth.

When it came to judging, it was Furonda that left the building, or in this case, the country. I kinda liked her. She was cool in a ghetto-fabulous kind of way. For example, did you know that her favourite food is corn? Srsly. But what finally made me realise why she is the way that she is, is because this is her favourite TV show:

Suddenly it all makes sense.

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Let me preface today’s post with an apology. Yesterday I promised you a post on America’s Next Top Model. This was the plan, but upon sauntering down to the living room to watch the bitches in 32″ widescreen glory, I was confronted by something horrible. A recap episode. The Horror. Apart from a little gem from ultra-bitch Jade, along the lines of “I’m made of humble, that’s just part of who I am,” there really wasn’t much more to say. One can only assume that the reason this week was a recap was because the girls were being taught something that couldn’t be shown on TV. Like the self-bikini wax, or how to work with credit cards and rolled up dollar bills. Both essential skills in the modelling industry, I might add.

So, in lieu of there being no 30 Rock or even Survivor either (damn Twenty20 World Cup! It’s not even real cricket.), I have found something to write about. Inspired by MusicLady’s post on Little Miss Miley, I have decided to come out. I have a slight obsession. With someone amazing. Her:

No Caption Required.

No Caption Required.

Now I must say, once I left the world of radio, I hardly ever listened it. But on closer inspection, Lady GaGa is set to take over the world.

There’s a lot to like. She dances, she sings, and refers to her VaJayJay as her ‘muffin.’ And she has amazing amount of talent. Now I’m the first to admit that she does nothing more than make pop music. Srsly. That’s all it is. But she’s going to take over the world. Trust me.

Why? Because not only can she sing, dance, play poker with her face and poke her muffin, but she’s smart as shit. She knows exactly how to play her market. Sure, she may have about 1 000 people working their asses off to work her own personal brand, but I have a sneaky feeling she’s got a lot to say about it as well. Unlike, Britney, Christina, or the rest, she seems a little less… uhm… ‘manufactured.’ And when she plays live, she actually plays instruments. And who doesn’t like a juicy, crunchy synth?

I got a hold of her CD recently, and to be quite honest, I’ve listened through it about 15 times now. Having now gotten over my initial shame, I can honestly say this Lady is the tits.

The only thing I don’t like about her, is that she’s so damn famous. Which results in people of below-average intelligence, hopped up on brandy and coke, loving her music. Which sucks. Because it means I have something in common with them now. Grrrr. I’m trying my best to look past it and indulge my guilty pleasure.

Finally, some decent pop music.

Finally, some decent pop music.

This lady is going to go far.

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ANTM – Taking on Thailand

I’ve decided that this season of ANTM will be known forever as the season with the arms. Srsly. All the girls have been doing since day one has been to put their arms into really weird positions. It’s not normal.

I was really looking forward to this week’s episode, and with Survivor providing me with a great warm-up in the form of naked mud-wrestling (I told you this season was awesome), when 9pm stumbled past, I was ready.

This week there were only 6 girls left. In typical Tyra fashion, they were once again subjected to torture from some flamboyant queen from Vanity Fair. Once again, the African Queen proved that she’s good at being abused, and won the prize. Which got shared with Jade. A hilarious massage administered by the other contestants followed.

Ah Jade. Jade. You, lady, are beginning to irritate me. You really aren’t as awesome as you think you are. Referring to yourself in the 3rd person doesn’t make you cool, it makes you a douche. It gives off the impression that you’re stuck up your own ass. And you are. Not to mention your self-proclaimed ‘bi-ethnicity.’ WTF is that?

A drag queen later and the girls scurried off to “Ty-land.” For those of us that don’t speak low IQ, that’s Thailand. Here the girls got suspended from a harness to look like mermaids, which must have made the locals in their boats below wonder what on earth these American bitches were up to. Some classic lines were screamed by Furonda, such as “Ow, my lady parts!” and “You’re flattening my uterus!”

Bye bye Nnenna

Bye bye Nnenna

In the end it was Nnenna that got sent back to Africa, to moan at her boyfriend and find a cure for AIDS.

She’s a chemist, didn’t you know?

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ANTM – Dolls and Crybabies

I was a little at a loss as what to do with myself last night. The Amazing Race ended rather unspectacularly last week, until this week I noticed that the new season of Survivor has started. In China. Hell yeah. It looks like it’s going to be a really good one this time around. Even though Jeff Probst looks like he hasn’t aged a day since the first episode of the first season. Seriously man, that ain’t natural. I may need to start doing reviews of Survivor as of next week… for those who missed it, some redneck named Chicken didn’t make the cut. Probably something to do with his stupid name.

But back to the subject at hand. We are getting a whole lot closer to finding out who America’s Next Top Model is, as after last night’s episode, there are only 6 girls left. That’s not a lot. It’s close to the amount of toes on my right foot.

And then there were six.

And then there were six.

As per usual, the show tried its hardest to have a vague and horrible theme. It would seem that this week’s theme, was to torture the girls as much as their legal waiver and stupidity would allow. They had abuse hurled at them by an ‘actress,’ were made to pose as dolls, and had onion chapstick rubbed into their eyes. All in all, it didn’t make for bad viewing.

What was noticeably absent this week was the face of our favourite he/she/it, Miss J thing whatsit. I can only imagine that after last week’s terrible comedown/hangover performance the producers called he/she/it into a small room, and gave he/she/it a good wrist slapping. I missed he/she/it. It made everything horrible predictable.

It must just be said that Tyra may never again direct a photoshoot. I have no idea what she was trying to achieve, but all we had was a bunch of crying girls. On film. Trying to ‘access the emotion.’ Please.

The girls also went to a dentist to have their teeth whitened, polished, or in the case of Joanie, replaced completely. So when Tyra put on her serious voice at elimination time, it came as no surprise to see that Joanie was picked first out of the bunch. I’d also pick her first if I spent $100 000 fixing her teeth.

But what irritated me somewhat was Tyra’s criticism over Nnenna, the African refugee girl from some war-torn country near the equator. Tyra criticised her because in the doll photoshoot she looked nothing like a ‘babydoll.’ Her defense was that she never had a baby doll as a child. This is how the conversation should have gone:

Tyra: Your babydoll photo wasn’t that great.

Nnenna: I never had a babydoll as a child.

Tyra: Just because you never had one, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know what one looks like.

(what Nnenna should have said was:)
Nnenna: Well Tyra, just because you’ve never experienced genocide, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know what it looks like…

In the end we said goodbye to Brooke. In case you can’t remember who that was, it was the Texas girl who was ripping on Nnenna last week. Oooooh. Karma. She’s a bitch.

Brooke's Scary Clown Photo.

Brooke's Scary Clown Photo.

Cheers. Next week the girls are going somewhere international…

Oh dear.

PS. Jade needs to be dragged behind a dumpster and shot. Twice. She’s so far up her own ass it’s a miracle she hasn’t suffocated yet.

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The benifits of looking after your parents house whilst they are in Germany are many. There’s the fact that you can turn the heater on without feeling too guilty. The fact that the lounge isn’t tiled. The swimming pool in summer. The DSTV. And that I can watch America’s Next Top Model in glorious 32″ LCD flatscreen glory. Beautiful.

Last week the redheaded stepchild was sent home. I liked her, in the way that she had balls. Unfortunately I also strongly suspect that she was a lesbian, and she may have been sent home after peeking at the other girls in the shower. I’m only saying it because no-one else is. But that was last week.

This week’s ‘skill’ the girls had to learn was the art of multi-tasking. ‘Task’ might be a bit of a strong word though. What they had to do, was walk down a catwalk (already a challenge for some), and take off a jacket. At the same time. The poor girls made it seem like a very difficult task indeed. So, to see just how difficult it was, I walked to the kitchen and took off my nightgown (at the same time! And yes, I wear a nightgown. Do you know how cold it is?). No problem. I then made myself a coffee, put on the robe and then, whilst walking back to lounge, had not one, but several sips of coffee. I am totally America’s Next Top Model.

Multi-Tasking. Even this guy can do it. AND he took the picture.

Multi-Tasking. Even this guy can do it. AND he took the picture.

Earlier on in the evening I bumped into MusicLady on Twitter, and we had a great Twitter dissing session whilst the show was happening (I know. I need a life). Her contribution to the girl’s general lack of basic motor control: “they are retards. youre taking off a jacket, not assembling a rocket ship! tools!” What amused me even more than the girls not being able to walk, was the extend to which the tranny runway coach was either hungover or coming down from whatever drugs. It was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the flamboyant, homosexual, bald, pencil-moustached, overweight twins which followed.

This led to the mini challenge, which was essentially, once again, a wonderful exercise in stereotyping. The challenge took place in a church, and the girls were outfitted in clothing best described as NunSlut. Right from the over-zealous black minister to the hand fans held by the audience, I had swallow the little bit of puke that made it up the back of my throat.

Meanwhile, back at the palace of all things Tyra, Nnenna was once again on the phone to her boyfriend. For hours. This obviously pissed Brooke off, leading to her spewing the hatred of: “What makes her special, she’s from Africa. Well go back to Africa then!” Oh bitchy bitchy Brooke. You just can’t say things like that. Especially if you come from Texas. People will make assumptions.

This is the best picture based joke of Texas I could find. Sorry.

This is the best picture based joke of Texas I could find. Sorry.

But now for the scariest part. The final photo shoot.

For this shoot the girls had to model a pair of shoes (all of which were fugly as shit). Cool, no problem. We can do shoes. The girls were then told that for this shoot they would have to dance. Cool, no problem here either. The style of dancing would be something known as crumping, a form of hip-hop dancing featuring clowns. Wait, what? Did I just use hip-hop and clown in the same sentence? I think I did.

Now imagine this, dancing to hip-hop.

Now imagine this, dancing to hip-hop.

I struggled to find a good definition for crumping. You know, one that will tell me the influences of the dance, certain moves, etc. I couldn’t find any. Urbandictionary did however provide me with an excellent alternative definition:

Crumping The act of dressing up as a crumpet. Covering yourself with butter and jam and then through a series of dance like shaking movements attempting to remove them before your competitors.
Man that was the worst crumping I have ever seen, you were as fresh as just out of the packet.
So besides hardcore clown dancing, the ladies managed to get some nice shots of the ugly shoes. When it came to elimination time and Tyra put on her serious voice, Jade’s ego got inflated just a little bit more, and Leslie got sent home.

Which one was Leslie?
Oh yeah, that one. See what I meant with the clowns?

Oh yeah, that one. See what I meant with the clowns?

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ANTM: Made for TV

This week on America’s Next Top Model, we saw the girls having to learn how to act. Oh dear. I’m glad I didn’t miss this one. The challange started off with the girls learning how to do improvisation.

Improvisation: Such Fun!

Improvisation: Such Fun!

What was  bloody hilarious was Tyra’s fake faint, genuinely getting the girls worked up over nothing. Personally, if I could myself in the same situation I would gone to make myself a sandwich, whilst I waited for the coroner to arrive. But hey, that’s just me.

It actually astounded me how little talent the girls actually have. I am talking of less than zero here. The improvisation classes were a total scream to watch, the girls believing that anger is equal to screaming in someones face. The next step for the girls was to appear on some hip kid’s improv show. It’s basically a cooler verison of Whose Line is It Anyway?, just way less funny. This further demonstrated their extreme talent at having no talent.

But what I’m really trying to settle on was this week’s “Photo Shoot,” which was actually nothing like what it sounds like. This week the girls had to shoot a 30 second commercial for some or other make up company that probably has shares in the show. Every single one of the ads was totally, totally horrible. The worst attempt came from Jade, who just tried to look pretty and glance at people. And failed.

I feel sorry for lesbian man-hater Mollie Sue. The 25 year old waitress, from some place in America just wanted to act. She truly believed she had it in her, that this was her thing. This teaches us a very important lesson: believing that you talent doesn’t mean that you do. You either have it or you don’t.

Most of the girls on this show don’t. Sorry to break the news to you, ladies.

Am I the only one who thinks she looks like a ginger lesbian?

Am I the only one who thinks she looks like a ginger lesbian?

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ANTM: Go back to China, bitch.

It is with the greatest of joy that I announce today that Irritating-Asian-Bitch is gone! Greater news there could not be (except maybe a global cure for AIDS or even a drop in the price of milk). She was really beginning to get on my nerve.

The girls had to look cute this week, doing modelling for a Sears catalogue. Sears? What the fuck? That’s not even on the same level as Woolworths in this country. That’s like modelling clothes for Pick and Pay. Or Ackermans. Not to mention the fact the the photographer had about 3 lines of coke before meeting the girls.

The photographer's general view to living life.

The photographer's general view to living life.

But before doing any of that, they had to learn how to pose first, from a lady who in my book is certified batshit insane. No seriously. But she did, however, share a valuable little industry secret, that “We never rat out our bitches!” Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.

The prize for winning this oh-so-fabulous coke-fuelled part of the show? The entire catalogue. Let’s be honest here, who wants it? Give it to charity bitch, you know you ain’t going to wear it. Besides, they don’t make clothes for people as skinny as you. The winner? The girl from Africa, who spells her name with two ‘N’s.

For the final shoot this week, the girls had to pose as what they wanted to be when they grow up.

When I grow up, I wanna have boobies.

When I grow up, I wanna have boobies.

Well, it would seem, that all the girls want to be are sluts. Seriously. I have never ever in my life seen people in the careers of lawyers, teachers, and human rights activists dress like that. There’s corporate sexiness, and then there’s corparate horniness. I know it’s a fashion shoot, but after the sluttiness of last week’s fairy tales, surely enough is enough? But I couldn’t really care. The bitch is gone.

Go back to China, bitch.

Go back to China, bitch.

And before you all run toward me for hate speech, I’m quoting Donnie Darko.

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