Oh Miss Tyra knew what she was doing when she cast this cycle; yes ma’am, she did. Between the primadonna tantrums, nervous breakdowns, sexual identity crises, and—someone fetch the smelling salts!—unexpected pratfalls, is there any room left for modeling anymore? Now when you apply to be on any Reality TV show, they ask you disclose everything from your prior medical/psychological history to the measurement of your uvula, so don’t try to tell me the producers don’t know full well what they’re getting into. What’s next on cycle 5? A model with [bleepity bleep mother-bleeeeepin] Turret’s? A narcoleptic stunner who snoozes through go-sees? One breathtaking beauty takes off her shoes to reveal lobster claws for feet?!! But I ain’t hatin’, just prognosticatin’. I know the operative word here is TV, so let the sideshow begin!
Bring It On
We get off to a quick start with this intriguing bit of TyraMail: “Today you’ll battle to the death in the coliseum.” If you’re like me, your mind is ticking off the possibilities: will they do a photoshoot where they will be dressed as gladiators (Modellus Maximus Americanus: “At my signal, unleash hell!”) or perhaps today they might actually be thrown to lions? But it’s never as dire as that devious little TyraMail author would like us to believe [pimpslaps TyraMail author]. Instead, they are brought to the historic LA Coliseum, where über-perky cheerleaders (a.k.a. future trophy wives or “exotic dancers”) rush out shaking silver pom-poms. None of our girls looks particularly pleased by this development (except maybe Michelle—or am I just telegraphing?), at any rate Tiffany seems to express most everyone’s feelings by saying, “I hate cheerleaders; that’s all we need is three more pretty girls to add to the collection.”
Oh but there’s not just three pretty cheerleaders at the Coliseum today—there’s four. Rah rah, sis boom bah! Gimme a J! And, um…[looks around awkwardly]…That’s it, actually, just the one letter…[shuffles feet] Out leaps Miss J., in pigtails and a patriotic red, white ‘n’ blue cheerleading costume, doing his best Spartan imitation as he yells out “America’s Next Top Model!!!” Uh huh, uh huh, uhhuh uhhuh uhhuh. Who could not be cheered at such an adorable sight?
J. instructs them to put on some platform clogs so they can practice walking on the grass. Dang, I was so hoping they’d clog dance for us, but where there’s Miss J., there is bound to be some walking up in the hizzle. The girls learn it is not easy walking gracefully on grass (and as an experienced bridesmaid in outdoor weddings, I can attest to this fact personally). J. says girls have to be comfortable walking in any environment, as you never know what designers might require of you. Walking on water, perhaps? [Imagines Jesus serving it on the Sea of Galilee, and executing a perfect turn in his sandals and flowing white robe.]
Well, in this case, WWJD refers to “What would J. do?” and Miss J. advises that the trick to walking on grass is: “Try not to model. [Have] presence.” Then the comedy begins: J. tells Michelle she walks like she “has spina bifida on the right side of your body” and Naima that if she doesn’t pull her head up she’ll “melt the candle” the perfect visual of which he demonstrates for us. I could watch this man criticize people walking all day long, give ‘im his own show! One girl who’s having a particularly difficult time is Sarah (wearing a perhaps portentous shirt bearing the slogan “Fashion Victim”) who manages to make the Great J. wince with her “heavy-footed” plonking across the lawn.
Next up, time to play a little high-heeled version of “Hide and Go Seek”: somewhere in the gimungous stadium there is a pair of high heels for each of the girls. It’s a pointless time killer, because all the shoes are hidden in one place together, and there’s really no winner. But it does lead us to the next exercise which is walking down the Coliseum steps with accessories. Now, I am a number one klutz and can barely walk down stairs without killing myself, much less in stilettos while holding some unwieldy object like a ball, a skateboard, or water cooler, as J. has our girls modeling.
The girls do their best, and no one tumbles down SFG-style, thank the Lord. Not that J. doesn’t have his criticism: he aptly describes Michelle with a hockey stick as looking like she’s “about to be tied and beat” (à la being on the stock), and again Sarah is called out for poor performance—J. likens her to the Tortoise in the “Tortoise and the Hare,” but does slow and steady really win the race? J. feels Rebecca, “feels quite confident with a lot of hair on her head.” Ah ha! So the power is in the hair, like with Samson! Well no wonder Sarah’s doing poorly with her pixie cut.
When it’s Brittany’s turn, J. says that she reminds him of Janice Dickinson, and that she “needs to bring it down a level” meaning in terms of overt sexuality (whether this is a comment on just Brittany or Janice too is deliciously ambiguous). Brittany plays with her phallic baseball bat (What’s that noise? Is it the collective schwing of the laps of the straight male viewers of ANTM? All 12 of you?) and chooses takes the “too sexy” comment as a compliment. Big mistake.
Shop Smart, Shop…Kmart?
Back at home, in MODELWOOD (well, that’s what it ought be, but the “WOOD” part is oddly pixellated out—and I’m not sure if this because Hollywood has now trademarked that image, which is rapacious, or because censors are scared of the word “WOOD,” which is just plain stupid—but does make me giggle), Keenyah helps Sarah practice her walk. Because if ever there was a short bus for walking (thanks for teaching me what that meant, you guys—although now that I know I’ll only abuse it), Sarah would be on it, fo’ sho. Kahlen tries to add her own advice, but Keenyah seems to shush her. Sarah is so pleased at “how nice we are to each other,” and marveling, “we’re like sisters” proving she clearly hadn’t heard Keenyah saying, “This is still a competition. I didn’t want to give her everything to make them choose her over me.” Somewhere, a single tear is rolling down Gloria Steinem’s cheek.
Someone else is struggling as the competition heats up: poor Michelle admits that the pressure is making her confidence flag—GAH! The interview footage must have taken place a little later, however, because it reveals frightening, inch-long, Sharpie-pen black roots on Michelle’s head. I will only say this one more time…Why, Tyra, whyyy give her such a high-maintenance hair color?!! Later on, all the girls assemble in the living room for a sort of Vogue-Off, which is interrupted by the arrival of new TyraMail: “Which aisle will have today’s special?”
Early the next morn, the girls find themselves being brought to the elegant retail destination known as Kmart. Talk about waaay down market, could they at least have taken them to Target, okay?!! [snaps and heads off to Isaac Mizrahi section] There are gasps and some girls look horrified (Keenyah, in particular, looks like she’s about to be set upon by a crazed ax-murderer); Tiffany, God love her for her realness, just says, matter-of-factly, “That’s my favorite shopping spot!” Even Rebecca says, “The last place I thought we’d be going is Kmart, but hey I don’t care, I’ve been there a million times.” Perhaps to buy batteries, tampons, and Cheetos but to model?!!
Inside the hermetically sealed and sterile, almost Kubrickian environment of the large chain store, the girls are greeted by J., who croons over the store’s microphone that there will be a “duel runway challenge in aisles 1 and 2.” Then comes the worst dub job in reality tv history, as J. explains why they’re in Kmart. It’s some blah blah to justify the blatant commercial sponsorship by saying top models need to be able to sell anything and “what better place to find everyday items than here” that he obviously couldn’t bear to say without either laughing or puking on-camera.
Accompanying J. today is Sandi Bass, model de la maison de Givenchy-cum-talent scout, who will help him judge today’s “dueling” walk challenge in which the girls go head to head, and are eliminated until only one remains. After a mad rush to get changed and grab accessories, the first duel is Christina vs. Brittany. Despite being told repeatedly that she is too sexy, she struts down the aisle like a Pussycat Doll, with yet another phallic accessorie (some sort of baton) and actually brandishes a belt buckle on her pelvis that says with gilded gall “SEXY.” Bye bye, Brittany! J. eliminates her.
Next up is Brandy vs. Naima; Brandy actually seems to work her frying pan with some (please don’t hit me) panache, and I’ve never seen anyway look so fierce with a sponge mop as Naima. Brandy gets the boot. Between her and Rebecca, Noelle gets nixed; Tiffany trumps Michelle; Lluvy and her toilet scrubber get an “ewww-vee” from J. and Kahlen remains; J. says “tata” to Tatiana in the duel between her and Keenyah. Sarah doesn’t even get someone to walk with, since J. says she’s “sloooow.” Sadly, even against herself she can’t win, and Sarah is eliminated.
The duels continue until the only two left are Naima and Rebecca. We are given a glimpse of each girls’ internal monologue: Naima says she was thinking, “There’s this bitch next to me, and it’s either her or me. And it’s gotta be me.” Rebecca says, “Everything I do is a competition, I always have to be the best. I hate to lose or else the bum-killing begins.” (Scratch the bum-killing part; I still have no idea why I picture cute, kewpie doll-looking Rebecca as a cold-blooded, vagrant-killing sociopath, but it amuses me to no end. NO END! So get used to it!) It’s a close race, but J. declares the winner of today is “Miss Becky.” As bums everywhere breathe a sigh of relief, Rebecca expresses her feeling flattered that “the best runway trainer in the world thinks I have a good walk.”
Waited On, Hand and Foot
Of course, Rebecca gets a prize for winning, but before it can be revealed she must choose 5 friends to accompany her. Wow, doesn’t that seem a lot more than usual, or am I straight-trippin’, Boo? Anyhoochie, she picks Kahlen, Sarah, Noelle, Lluvy, and Naima. When J. informs them that the rest of the unselected will have to “service” the winning girls, I wonder what kind of sick social experiment this is. The unselected girls are clearly not pleased with their new roles as subordinates, even though they are not entirely sure what that will entail.
They end up at the Stuart Weitzman boutique, home of chi-chi-poo-poo shoes and accessories that are not quite as nice as Jimmy Choo but a whole lot better than Payless (or Kmart for that matter). Stu himself meets the girls (and why would he pass up the opportunity to hang out with a baker’s dozen of hot chicks for an afternoon, in addition to the high profile promo, of course) and tells Rebecca that she and each of her five friends will get to try on and select a pair of shoes that they get to keep. I’ll see you on eBay!
He then tells the other girls that they will “serve” the others and “treat them like the queens that they will be when they wear these shoes.” Ouch, Stu, could you have softened the blow just a teensy bit? The other girls bristle with envy and resentment as they are led to the stock room, which is a crazy maze of shelves that reach the ceiling and roll on tracks, like the room in the Matrix where Morpheus takes Neo to get equipped, except instead of firearms there’s a mind-boggling amount of shoes. Michelle, whose “one worst fear is…getting squooshed” is terrified of the rolling racks—I don’t blame her, either, that contraption looks hella gnarly and one of the Weitzman employees specifically warns them that they must make sure no one is in between the shelves before they close them.
Meanwhile, the fortunate five are in the showroom literally dancing. Kahlen, sounding like some forlorn rube with dirt on her face, marvels, “In Oklahoma, we do have shoes, but nothing like this.” Sarah cries that it’s the happiest day of her life (gather ye rosebuds while ye may, dear girl), and Kahlen admits she’s glad she’s not one of the girls who has to serve them.
She’s lucky she’s not Michelle, who is at the moment freaking out—I mean cryin’ and hyperventilatin’ freakin’ out—in the stockroom all because Keenyah, that crazy jokester, decided to play like she was going to close the shelves on her. Ha ha hee hee, so funny to put others in mortal danger. Keenyah sighs like she’s exasperated, and looks around for back up from the other girls who try to assure Michelle that she was just playing. Even Brittany, whose chock-full of crazy herself, deems Michelle “nuts,” which makes me feel a little sad for the girl who not only got stuck with Lemon Meringue-colored hair (to match Ty’s Strawberry Shortcake?) but is also getting picked on by the other girls. Hey, you bitches, anybody consider maybe she’s claustrophobic?
Michelle is unhappy that her vulnerable side got exposed, so she goes to collect herself in an empty room. When she emerges, she is smiling and perky again, which is admittedly quite a jarring turnaround. Even Tiffany who, as Michelle’s roomie and one of the few girls she’s befriended, has been able to observe her behavior most closely, notices that Michelle’s mood can go from calm to crazy in 60 seconds.
The unfortunate handmaidens go out to wait on Queen Becca and her models-in-waiting, and are not liking it AT ALL. “Rebecca’s attitude was very snooty. All of us felt it and none of us liked it,” Brittany grumbles. Rebecca claims she’s tried to be a “gracious winner” but she can’t really arsed about anyone else’s feelings, like when she treated Tiffany worse than a lowly maid when a strawberry leaf fell into her water. Brandy says she’s trying to work on her attitude, but the Becca hauteur is riling her up—kind of like the Hulk, I half-expect Brandy to explode into a big green monster any minute. Furthermore, part of me almost wishes Brandy would have an outburst, but goshdarn it, the one week she might actually be justified, she holds it in.
Rebecca seems bemused by the other girls’ “jealousy” and it’s true, she couldn’t pick everyone. Speaking of which, not to cry prejudice here, but anyone else find it fishy that Rebecca did not pick the most dark-skinneded girls in the group—girls like Brandy, Tiffany, Keenyah, and…Christina? *badum-ching* That Florida sun is brutal, folks. Anyway, sweet Rebecca, ever consider that it might have been your gloating and kissing the shoes that made the other girls grit their teeth and shoot you stinkeye something awful? I mean, really, the kissing of the shoes was a bit much.
Finally, at the end, Stu gets a big group hug from the favored five—there’s sort of a weird, vaguely prostitution-y vibe here, or “Will Model for Shoes”—and the girls ride home with almost palpable tension, which Rebecca certainly senses. She says she can feel “a line being drawn” and concludes “this is a competition, I’m not here to feed your ego, I’m here for me.”
Yep, She’s Gay
At home, there is already new TyraMail, which all the girls gather to hear, except for Michelle, whom everyone notices has been keeping to herself. “Can you work with ten other bitches?” it asks, cheekily. “Ten girls from the last seasons,” Noelle blurts out, a funny guess that nearly makes me hork out my hot vanilla chai through my nostrils. You know Camille would not like the sound of that.
Noelle is the only girl that decides to confront Michelle on the behavior that her housemates are increasingly finding odd. In the room, we hear snatches of conversation: “You love someone for who they are, regardless,” Noelle remarks; “I just don’t want people to freak out,” Michelle responds, wiping a tear from her eye. Tiffany and Brandy (oddly dressed like the Frito Bandito) sneak up to the door and eavesdrop, barely able to keep from laughing. Oh yeah, that’s mature. Anyway, they overhear Michelle confessing that she has a secret “eating her up inside” and Noelle reassuring her that “every single girl of this house is not going to look at you a stitch differently because you’re bi.”
GASP! Michelle is BI? Bi?!! Is that all? C’mon, ya stone-cold lesbo, who do you think wouldn’t have figured that out by now? Hello, McBi! You couldn’t have been more clockable if you were a professional female golfer, my dear lemon-haired lady-wrestler friend! All week they’ve been playing up this secret like it was a big deal, like you have a conjoined narcoleptic twin with Turrets and lobster feet attached to you.
Tiffany and Brandy finally break into the room, and Tiffany demands to know if Michelle is gay. Just when editing has you worried something stupid’s going to happen, Tiffany reassures Michelle by saying, “There’s nothing wrong with that.” Even Brandy admits to having had fantasies of her own, and says, “Michelle just needs to know that we’re going to accept her either way.” Brandy even puts her arm around Noelle and starts playing with her hair, as Michelle talks about her first experience with a woman and Tiffany gives her a hug. Noelle feels this finally explains Michelle’s weird behavior, as anyone hiding something that important is bound to have “freak-outs.”
Michelle finally feels she can be herself, and her self-confidence returns. In summation, kids: it’s okay to be gay. Love & acceptance—HURRAY! The only thing wrong with this conversation is it would have been 50% better taking place in a hot tub, seriously. Come on, Tyra, ya dropped the ball on this one!
Going to the Dogs
The next day, the girls head out to Griffith Park for a shoot they don’t know anything more about than what Tiffany explains: “TyraMail said something about working with 10 other bitches. I already got to work with these bitches right here, I don’t need no more!” Jay, accompanied by the hair (Danilo), makeup (Mathu), and fashion stylist (Q), plus photog Danielle Levitt, tells them today’s shoot will brought to you by the letter “P”—publicity, promotion, and product placement. Actually, today they’ll be taking pics to shill 1-800-FLOWERS, and their co-stars for today? Tyra herself pops in to let them know they’ll be “posing with 10 doggies today!” Oh, and one hunky human male model…grrrrrrrr.
The girls are dolled up in bright colors and flirty, 80s-ish styles. Tiffany is up first and looks cute, setting the tone of the shoot. Christina is next, and Danielle finds there is “too much tension in her face” (emanating from her crazy, psycho, I-will-not-be-ignored eyeballs). Brittany says she is trying to look more “professional” and less “slutty”; alas, Jay feels she still has a “porno kind of thing going on” and judging from the reaction of the male model in the background (who may want to excuse himself to the restroom after this), Jay might be right. I must begrudgingly admit that Brandy McBitcherson looked good in today’s shoot—perhaps because she was in like company? Keenyah had problems multi-tasking the dogs, the flowers, and her face. Naima, surprisingly, had problems with the photog, who felt she couldn’t command her facial expressions very well. Tatiana, however, impressed Danielle, and their shoot seemed to go easily.
Michelle feels much more relaxed after having cleared the air about her sexual orientation, and it really shows. Jay compliments her on looking gorgeous, and Danielle seems to love working her, cheering, “That’s the way to own a set!” I still am not keen on the blonde (and eek, from the looks of the new growth to come, I won’t be changing my mind), but with the styling and makeup on this particular shoot, I think it works it well. Danielle says she’s a “wonderful model…incredibly statuesque, with wonderful features.”
Lluvy’s unconventional looks help her stand out to Danielle, who also loves “how focused she was.” This is not so with Sarah; Danielle remarks, “I don’t feel like you’re connecting with me.” Sarah simply giggles nervously, while Jay likens her to “driftwood.” Noelle asks Sarah how it went, and Sarah says the ANTM mantram for whenever someone’s about to go BITCH-O-MATIC™ on someone’s ass, “This is a competition” and since no one told her what to expect, she’s not going to tell Noelle. What happened to sisterhood? Noelle seems to have the problem of over-modeling. Kahlen has problems “popping out her butt” (yup, that’s all I got!) and then Rebecca comes in and basically knocks it out of the park.
Stop, Drop, and Whoa
An adorable picture of a girlish Tyra with a passel of pooches alerts us that it’s elimination time again. Tyra is joined by her regular retinue: Janice, Nigel, Nolé and precious Pomeranian Empress Minnie. The guest judge this week Sandi Bass, the Givenchy muse and model scout we met earlier at Kmart. Today’s challenge is to male a 50 (must be read “fiddy”) cent potato sack look as fierce as a $20,000 couture gown. The girls change into their sacks and do their walks. Of note: Lluvy is the only girl to not only throw on a thoughtful accessory (string of pearls) and truly work that sack; Keenyah stumbles on her first step, but recovers nicely; Sarah appears to be reenacting some Buster Keaton routine I’m not familiar with; and Tiffany inches her way up and down the steps like she’s tiptoeing through a graveyard.
Rebecca is first up for evaluation. Nigel thought her walk was strong, but Janice feels she “forgot what Tyra’s directions were” and the dress “still read as burlap.” They check out her picture, which does indeed look “cute cute” as Nolé declares. Janice says it looks “slutty” as in “40s pinup” which might be bad for Brittany but is curiously good for Rebecca. Double standards—not just for genders anymore! Sandi is just about to give her critique of Rebecca, and starts to say she needs to work on her presence when something incredibly abrupt and truly shocking happens.
Now, lots of times reality shows promise you “the most shocking elimination ceremony ever” and almost never deliver. Well, even though I knew this was coming, and even if I’ve watched it a couple times, it still doesn’t fail to freak me out to see Rebecca’s eyes slooowly roll back into her head like something from a Japanese horror film, and the almost slow motion descent of her rag doll body falling flat, ass backwards, on the floor. Now this is truly some DRAMA for your mama! What’s even worse is watching Rebecca’s head as it makes contact with the hard ground, which has just got to hurt.
People on reality shows also tend to overuse the word “surreal” but here it is completely appropriate a description for this bizarre and sudden collapse. There is a frenzy of shock and panic in the elimination room, as people gasp and yell to call for paramedics. A stagehand comes over appearing to check for her pulse, and Tyra rushes over and lies next to Rebecca on the ground. When Rebecca finally comes to, Nurse Tyra dabs her eyes with a tissue. Noelle says that Rebecca has told her that she has had this “pre-existing condition” where she just suddenly collapses since she was very young. She’s had testing done since she was 3-years-old, and it’s been years since her last collapse. Looks like Noelle’s the go-to girl for secret confessions around here.
While the paramedics arrive to take Rebecca to the hospital, the judging continues, although who can concentrate on anything else right now? The (reality) show must go on, however, so after Tyra leads the girls in a deep-breathing exercise and addresses them in soothing talk-show host tones, it’s back to the panel. Tatiana is told she needs to be light on her feet when it comes to walking, however her dog photo is universally praised (“Stephanie Seymour meets Jaqueline Bisset” according to Janice). Similarly, Tiffany’s walk needs help (“going down the stairs you look like you needed a cane or a walker” Janice laments), but her photo delivers the goods that the whole panel laps up like Kibbles ‘n’ Bits.
Sarah is told her walk makes her look like a “funky chicken” and to Tyra, her “nervous energy” was all too obvious; the panel is underwhelmed by her photo, it lacks confidence, and even though the face looks fine, her body posture is not strong enough. Lluvy gets high praise for being the only girl to do something with her sack. “To me it wasn’t a sack anymore,” Tyra remarks, “It was a dress…I wanna buy that.” Nolé thinks she might have a “sexy Chihuahua walk” more than a high fashion walk—whatever that means! Her picture, however, is undeniably “fierce” as Nigel describes it.
Michelle’s walk is dismissed by Tyra as looking like she was modeling for the farmers at the potato factory—hey, that presumes potato farmers have no fashion sense! You never know! Her picture is deemed “amazingly gorgeous” and Tyra likens her to an “antelope” but actually means it as a compliment. Nigel says Brandy’s walk looked “pissed off” like she was going to come up and slap him; Tyra tries to explain the difference between “model angry” and watch-your-back-in-the-parking-lot angry. Her picture is mostly positive, though Sandi and Nolé both feel something lacking in the eyes. Christina gets fair reviews; during her walk, she failed to remove hair that stuck to her lips, and her picture is seen as “boring” by some. Naima’s potato sack walk is called “weird” and her picture (which I personally find super-cute) gets a mixed response—works for Nigel, Janice, and Tyra, but not for Sandi and Nolé.
Brittany is told right away by Tyra, “I can see foundation from here,” and too much makeup is unappealing in a model in person, keeps her from looking like the fresh palate clients want to see. Her walk also gets upbraided for looking like she’s “in a rock club with a beer in your hand.” Not high-fashion enough. In the picture, from afar, it’s “slammin’” but up close, “It looks like a porno cover to me,” Tyra scoffs, “It looks like a high-class porno, the ones that cost $39.95—how do I know that?” Aw yeah, looks like Tyra’s got some secrets of her own, perhaps a dark side we don’t know about: freaky deaky TyTy! I’m sure she knows her Vivid from her Wicked—not that…I…know anything about that…myself…[voice trails off, SFG looks around sheepishly]
Noelle is seen as maybe a little too girl-next-door (read: boring) but her long legs look great in the dog shot. Kahlen’s right arm is paralyzed when she walks, and her pic is not a panel favorite. Keenyah’s rocky start on her potato sack walk does not hold her back. “All models stumble,” Janice says, but Keenyah kept going “like a pro,” which earns high marks from the panel. Not so with her panel outfit, whose layers are described as looking like a “carnival” and only forgiveable if she got dressed while “wasted.” Her photo, however, which was the “first click of the photographer’s camera” looks fabulous, “total editorial advertising shot” and “best beauty shot of the lot.”
As the judges deliberate, Rebecca leaves the hospital in paper gown. She explains that she’s had this condition where a nerve goes out in her body since she was 3, and it’s more “inconvenient” than “life or death.” Except when she blacks out, she kills bums. Tyra welcomes her back, just in time for the photographs to be handed back. The girls who are safe this week are: Keenyah, Tatiana, Rebecca, Tiffany, Lluvy, Naima, Christina, Brandy, Noelle, Michelle, and Kahlen.
So it’s between Brittany and Sarah. Tyra chastises Brittany’s sexuality as “way too strong” and not “Victoria’s Secret kind of strong, but getting a little XXX for the fashion industry.” In Sarah’s case, “we feel you melting” and they aren’t seeing the self-confidence to back up her pretty face. In the end, the photo goes back to Brittany, whom Tyra notices has washed her face, “and it looks absolutely beautiful.”
Sarah leaves feeling she still has “a lot more natural talent than a few of the girls still in there” and derides Brittany as the “porn princess…high fashion model? I don’t think so. Please, don’t make me vomit.” And on this gracious note, we leave this week’s action packed episode of ANTM. Join us next week when we find out if Brandy is still able to keep her cool, Tiffany can keep calm, and Rebecca can keep from blacking out and (allegedly) murdering any more bums.
Great leapin’ leprechauns! I’m sorry this recap is so late, I’m afraid me St. Paddy’s Day celebrations got a wee bit out of hand. Email your best hangover tips at snowflakegirl@fansofrealitytv. com