''America's Next Top Model'': To catch a thief
In the age-old coat hanger versus runway model debate, I've usually leaned towards the Joan Crawford special. Hangers are reliable, they show up on time, and they never burst into tears because they ate a breath mint the night before and now they're, like, too bloated to live.
But after watching last night's episode of America's Next Top Model, I can honestly say I have seen the light. Our society needs these underfed, glassy-eyed gazelles if only so they can entertain us with awkward little jigs while singing, ''I'm missing a hundred dollars/And my laundry's gone/Because of a certain bitch!'' If Amanda cuts a single, I am so buying it.
Maybe I just like the Monty Python-esque possibilities in a visually impaired runway model (uh-oh, here comes Amanda, everybody scoot back!), but I am loving Blind Blondie, the missing-laundry detective. I especially liked the little passive-aggressive shoulder bump she delivered to her prime suspect, Eva, which was surprisingly bold for someone who falls into a weeping lump at the thought that her stolen healing crystals may be soaking up someone else's yucky negativity. You just know that if the cameras hadn't been there, Eva would have pushed back that ironing board, picked the wool setting, and burned the crap out of Mandy's face.
The thing is, Amanda's got to ease up on playing the poor-little-blind-girl card. Granted, she so gets points for making it down the runway at the dimly lit Heatherette show by using the glitter on the floor as her guide. (Finally, a practical use for glitter!) I mean, that dork Norelle (who was dumb enough to think flashing her boobs at an obviously gay man could improve her standing) couldn't even do it with 20/20 eyesight. This woman loves Paris Hilton and she's never worn high heels? Sacrilege! I especially loved how the prospect of tottering on a pair of stilletos made her entire face crinkle up, as if she were contemplating cooties or seventh-grade algebra.
Anyway, about Amanda. Yes, she's a walking very special episode of Oprah, but the judge who bluntly pointed out that no agency would hire a legally blind runway model was only stating a hard, cold truth. And her ability to do the same thing as everyone else except in a haze and with childbearing stretch marks is clearly pissing off her housemates. Eva has earned a one-way ticket to hell for whining, ''I'm short and my shoes are too little, but I didn't complain!'' after Amanda pointed out that if not for the wonderful glitter trail, she might have impaled herself on a bony fashionista in the front row. Hey, Miss J (does anyone else find this guy and his weird slip dresses entirely creepy?), while you're teaching these gals to walk with encyclopedias on their heads, throw in some damn sensitivity training for Little Miss Thing, please?
Actually, I'm getting mighty tired of Eva and her Doublebitch twin, Anna Bananahead, although they do serve the useful purpose of irritating the bejesus out of the other girls. I love that in this alternate universe of stick people, Ann, who weighs slightly more than a damp feather duster, is considered the bruiser capable of flexing her ''big muscles'' in a catfight. Did you see her glower like an anorexic serial killer while poor Amanda tried to apologize to Eva? As much as these girls talk about kicking ass, I doubt any one of them could do more than some breathless slapping before their blood sugar dipped or one of them smeared their foundation.
But enough about that. I am not signing off without discussing the disastrous elimination round. As if it weren't enough that Jennipher spells her name with ph (I wonder iph she phlunked phiphth grade English), she has to go and write ''ANTN'' on her naked ass. That is a woman who is all class, I tell you. Look for her at a nude mud-wrestling tournament near you any day now. Even Judge Janice, who appears to have actual inflatable body parts, was appalled. But that just may be because she couldn't say, ''When I was in Milan, I did the same thing,'' or ''That's so '60s, and I was alive then,'' or something else that made it abundantly clear that this entire show is really all about her.
Still, I totally agree with her final verdict: Kristi (of the ugly red, white and blue prom dress) needed to go. But I have to say, Kelle was a close second. She wasn't kidding when she said that her topless Lee jeans shot made her look like a platypus. She really did, except it was a bored, really uncomfortable, and possibly diseased platypus. That photo was yearbook picture after gym class bad. Still, Kelle seems like such a nice girl I'm glad she held on to her spot. Who knows, if people actually wear those god-awful Heatherette duds in public, there must be room in the world for a model who looks like an egg-laying mammal.
What do you think? Is Amanda tugging our heartstrings or yanking our chain? Was Kristi the right choice, or did someone else really deserve the boot?