The episode began with another addition of Shit Reality Competition Contestants Say. “It’s like a huge deal,” Laura reflected on her best photo. “It doesn’t happen to people where I come from.” And cue the tears.

But things got more interesting when the ladies received a visit from Vogue Italia editor Franca Sozzani, a woman whose sharp Italian bone structure was destined to cut these “models” down to size. Each of the contestants was tasked with writing a blog post about Crete from her personal perspective. Pick an outfit, pick a location, take photos, write a few hundred words, and bam—win a seven-night trip to Crete. Are you kidding? This was basically my dream challenge, except I’ll take a seven-night trip to somewhere closer than Crete, because I hate flying and hot weather.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get to read what the models wrote, which I’m sure would have been a thrilling exercise in inanity. (Actually, Allison’s blog post was chastised for being too weird and over-the-top. Maybe she could recap America’s Next Top Model for Crushable?) Angelea won, because she found some graffiti and talked about living in the ghetto. A hard-knock story trumps all else, especially when Lisa’s second-best blog post was about her fast-paced Hollywood lifestyle. You ever been shot at, Lisa? Then no one cares.

The photo challenge this week was a two-day video shoot designed to bring Tyra’s novel Modelland to life in a motion editorial. Anyone who has ever doubted Tyra’s acting abilities need only watch the scene in which she shows humility after Jay mentions Modelland’s New York Times bestseller status. I believed it. Also rent Halloween Resurrection, because it’s kind of fun.

Tyra explained the plot of Modelland, but I zoned out somewhere around Tookie looking for a button in the garbage and becoming a cat. The shoot was fun, if only because it reflected Tyra’s batshit sensibilities. Lisa was given a baby doll and told to act deranged. Laura was forced to squeeze whipped cream all over her face. (Side note: they were setting this girl up for failure, right? “Now, don’t be too sexy, but here’s a dessert topping to slowmo jizz into your mouth.”) And poor naïve Laura, who actually said, “I feel like this is a really good time for me to really prove to her that I can be America’s Next Top Model.” Oh, Tookie.

As Angelea put it, “We’re doing mad different scenes. It was crazy.” And yeah, when Tyra told Allison to booty tooch as a cat and then rub blood oranges on her face, I realized we were witnessing something truly special. It did get briefly boring when Angelea decided it was her turn to cry. Yeah, we get it, Angelea, you’re tragically unpleasant. But Tyra put it all into perspective: “This is what the really good actresses do.” It’s true. She learned that one from Lindsay Lohan while filming 2000’s Life-Size.

And look—it’s hunky male model-actor Tyson Beckford! All snark aside, Tyson is comically sexy. When Angelea asked if she could hug him, he said she could but that he was a little sweaty. Like, please. But Tyra actually brought him for herself, so she could reenact a truly absurd scene in which Tookie tries to fellate some dude’s thumb. Seriously. Cut to a cave where Tyson is rubbing his digits all over Tyra’s face, and she fucking goes for the thumb. Will Tookie ever learn the real way to love a man? Pick up your copy of Modelland to find out!

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At judges’ table, we saw part one of the Modelland shoot. (That’s right—there’s more next week.) I give this motion editorial credit for managing to be equal parts weird and dull. I’m reasonably certain we were meant to take it seriously (Tyra said she almost cried when viewing it), but I’m still stuck on the whipped cream going in and out of Laura’s mouth. Like, we really needed to rewind that footage? As Andre Leon Talley so coldly noted, “She’s worn out with the whole hee-haw elegance.”

Judges’ deliberation was the longest. Ever. In. Top. Model. History. We even got a shot of producer Ken Mok walking onto the stage and demanding a decision. It was about as believable as Tyra writing a novel, but no matter. It all culminated in the most gutwrenching final two we’ve seen so far: Laura and Allison. Throw in public nudity and this was literally my worst nightmare realized. In the end, Laura went home and broke my heart in the process. I miss her already, but I’m trying to hold my head high. We’ll always have Wanda Sue’s country frocks and whipped cream.

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Post from: Crushable

The models received what Laura termed “the most scariest TyraMail ever,” which actually wasn’t much of an overstatement. For their first challenge, the contestants were forced to attend a casting judged by each other. This is a classic reality competition ploy to stir shit up, and it’s always amazing. Except these women were grossly kind and gracious about everything. Like, hello, think about your audience. Dominique’s assessment of Laura? “She’s a white girl with sass, and I like that.” Ugh, tell us what you really think. Does her Southern twang make you want to claw her eyes out? Has she ever clogged the Top Model toilet? Spill it.

Finally, each model was forced to pick the least “All Star” contestant remaining, and I thought OK, let’s fuck some shit up. But again, no one would say anything. Finally Dominique decided to call out Angelea, and even that was in the nicest goddamn way possible: “I see so much more in you, and I love you and I care about you.” To which Angelea very rationally responded, “I feel like I’m being attacked.” Look, girl, I have intimacy issues, too, but not everyone who tells you they love you is a threat. Just most of them.

Laura actually got pissed off, because you bet your darn tootin’ butt she expects better from Angelea. “This is me mad!” she shouted, madly. “Because you are a beautiful woman! You can sing! You have talent! But you don’t know it!” I just loved that this “attack” was the nicest anyone has ever been on Top Model: it made all of Angelea’s tearful protests more absurd. Were any of these people listening to one another? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more disconnected fight. “I love you.” “Y’all bitches.” “I care about you.” “I know what you all trying to do. Stupid bitches.” “You are a beautiful woman.” “Kiss my ass. Dumb-ass bitches.” Hey, at least Angelea made her point.

There was a pointless scene in which the models went clubbing with “former model/Crete socialite” Twylem Pyper. OK, it was pointless in the sense that it didn’t further the plot, but it did remind us that Allison is awesome (instead of getting drunk, she flung all her shots behind her head) and that “Crete socialite” is a thing. Frankly, it’s kind of unfair that someone with a name as amazing as “Twylem Pyper” also gets to be designated a “Crete socialite.” Stop having a monopoly on cool things to call yourself, Twylem.

The photo shoot this week was Olympics-themed, because Greece or whatever. I remain uninspired by most of these shoots, but it’s always nice to see Nigel step into his photog/creepy older man role. Anyway, it was mostly ridiculous. Dominique was given a “javin,” Angelea was given a “putshot,” and Allison had to pretend a handbag was a discus. “It kind of looks like you’re hailing a cab,” Nigel told Allison. And it’s true, the best way to hail a cab in New York is to fling your handbag outward like a discus. (I say that as though there’s any other way to hail a cab.)

At judges’ table, Tyra once again frustrated me with her grammar: “It’s so weird seeing less and less and less girls.” FEWER. It’s so weird seeing FEWER girls. And while we’re on the subject of grammar, it should be “you’re still in the running TOWARD becoming America’s Next Top Model.” But I digress. I digress a lot.

With so many fewer (fewer!) contestants, judgment wasn’t all that exciting. Angelea was in the bottom two again, and likely blamed it on the “sneaky ass bitches” who tried to derail her. But it was Dominique who was sent packing, presumably because it’s just more fun for Tyra to fuck with Angelea at this point. Still, I was sad to see Dominique go. I never cared for her when she was first on Top Model, but she has thoroughly endeared herself to me as an All Star. Own your weird masculine fierceness, Dominique. I would kill to be that butch.

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Post from: Crushable

Every once in a while, America’s Next Top Model is so batshit, I have very little to say about it. What can I add to an episode in which the contestants were forced to make “viral” videos? (I put “viral” in quotes, because they didn’t actually make viral videos. Relatedly, Tyra Banks doesn’t know what “viral” means.) The entire conceit was absurd, and I love how this was presented as a reasonable challenge and not something insane Tyra cooked up while smoking the finest “pot ledom.”

“How else can you take your celebrity up a notch than going viral?” Jay Manuel asked. I’m pretty sure that was rhetorical, but sex tape, obviously. He then namechecked such viral sensations as Rebecca Black and Justin Bieber, suggesting that the models could one day join their ranks. And yes, I do think each and every one of these ladies could eventually become just as forgettable as Rebecca Black or even that guy who sang “Chocolate Rain.” But before they became YouTube stars, the contestants were asked to co-write and record their own songs.

Allison spent a lot of time freaking out over her inability to sing, which is a completely legitimate concern. I’m baffled by the assumption that all of the models would be able to sing—though I suppose in an age of Auto-tune, anyone can sound halfway not terrible. I’m really more surprised that the contestants were asked to write their own songs: not even Rebecca Black was tasked with that challenge. Allison continued to stress about her song and ended up writing a touching ode to her recently departed father. Because hey, nothing says viral like a dead parent.

When the contestants arrived at the studio to record their songs, they were informed that they’d have to incorporate the phrase “pot ledom,” which is “top model” backwards. I have no explanation for this, except perhaps that Tyra is a gnikcuf citanul. I also loved when CBS Records’ Tom Polce reminded the models, “You gotta make it fun … It’s all about fun.” Cut to Allison, who had to incorporate a funky hook into her dirge. Rest in peace, Dad. You were always a pot ledom in my heart.

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Somehow Allison managed to make it work. (She’s literally an alien, is the only explanation I can come up with.) Lisa, who won the songwriting challenge, killed it, and most of the other models did serviceable jobs. I say “serviceable,” because none of these women are professionals, and it showed. While I admired their enthusiasm, I was eager for the worst of the bunch (including my girlcrush Laura) to get Auto-tuned into comfortable mediocrity. And yes, I thought it was cute when Alexandria said, “I feel like I could be a recording artist.” But cute in that deluded, vaguely annoying sort of way. Let’s not shit ourselves.

The music videos upped the absurdity: back-up lipsynch vocals (yeah, I don’t know) were provided by Tyra and internet sensation Keenan Cahill. I’ll be kind to Keenan, because he’s a 16-year-old kid, but he’s famous for lipsynching and he’s not even very good at that. (See, I was nice. I could just as easily have said he’s a godawful talentless mess.) Tyra and Keenan didn’t ruin all of the videos, if only because the majority of them were irredeemably awful to begin with, but they were a frustrating distraction. I sympathize, though: Tyra and Keenan definitely needed the exposure.

I realize I haven’t said much about the songs, but they were mostly too generic to merit discussion. Almost all of the contestants chose to write about the competition, the challenges they’ve faced, and how they’ll ultimately emerge victorious—in other words, the same crap they spout every week but this time set to shitty pop beats. Shout outs to Laura for her charmingly inane “Southern Sweet Girl” and to Lisa for the legit fun “I Be Like Whoa.” No, Lisa, I be like whoa. Your song was somehow enjoyable.

In the end, Alexandria’s flat video didn’t cut it. Angelea foretold this chain of events when she noted, “There’s a line in her song that says, “Go, go, go.’ No, no, no.” And while I didn’t think Alexandria’s song was any worse than Shannon’s “World Go Round” or Dominique’s “Tooch Ya Booty,” I was glad to see her go. For a contestant whose main draw was her bullying behavior, Alexandria spent too much of this cycle flying under the radar. Sorry, girl, but if you want to be a household name, you can’t be afraid to make your voice heard. Every pot ledom knows that.

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We began with Bianca adjusting to life without Bre. Turns out not having her BFF in the house made Bianca extra cranky, which is kind of like Bianca all the time with more confessionals about how cranky she is. “It makes me cringe when I see Dominique’s picture up,” she said, crankily. Then she fought with Alexandria over shower privileges. (Alexandria is also cranky. Good to know she’s staying on brand.) “Bitches never win,” Kayla promised, and indeed, her premonition came to pass. But Kayla went home, too. That’s right—everyone loses.

In the most inspired challenge All Stars has offered yet, the contestants were asked tocreate their own fragrances. Celebrity perfumes are inherently ridiculous, and the ideaof giving D-list reality stars their own scents is especially absurd. Mmm, smells like… desperation? While I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing Lisa’s winning Neon (I hate the beach, love, and fun), I was definitely tempted by Allison’s Honey Blood. I bet it smelled adorable and weird. Alexandria called her fragrance “Diamondatrix,” which is as unwieldy as it is stupid. Way to go, team.

Next, the models had to sell the new fragrances to their adoring fans. (I don’t know where these people come from, but I’m probably just bitter I was never asked.) The contestants were asked to shill their wares from the comfort of outdoor bathtubs, which is ridiculous—but not as ridiculous as Bianca’s horrified reaction. “I’ve never seen Beyonce in a tub,” she insisted, as though that had any bearing on the situation at hand. I’m eating frozen grapes out of a Ziploc bag. I’ve never seen Beyonce do that either, and you don’t see me complaining about it. “I’m just not for sale,” Bianca explained. Because yes, hanging out in a bathtub in your bathing suit, is basically prostitution.

Things got even more meta at the photo shoot, when the models were dressed as reality stars with larger-than-life personas. Except rather than choose from a literally (not literally) endless array of potential TV personalities, the models were assigned either Snooki or NeNe. Seriously, just the two. I wanted to see Allison give us her best Danielle Staub. I wanted Laura to embody a Kardashian. I wanted something more than a Bumpit and a well-timed point—take it to the next level, Tyra. Go big or go home. Some other cliché that reflects my dissatisfaction with this shoot.

The only real standout for me was Bianca, because she caused some serious drama with her pickles. And as she was the first to point out, “I never thought that one jar of pickles could cause so much drama.” I’m not giving Bianca kudos for thinking outside the box, because she requested an exceedingly stupid prop that Jay had to nix for looking too phallic. I’m just delighted that she made such a fuss about pickles—that’s the kind of gleeful lunacy this reality show-themed shoot needed. “It’s a little selfish, but it’s also a competition,” Bianca explained, after literally grabbing a pickle out of Allison’s hand. “It’s not bitchy, it’s competitive.” It’s also amazing.

Side note: I am going to miss Bianca a lot. I know she was a pain in the ass, but my God, her sense of entitlement and detachment from reality were Top Model gold. I loved when she was talking about other “candid” celebrities who wouldn’t deign to sell perfume from a bathtub, and she used Courtney Love as an example. Courtney Love, you guys. Let that sink in like Honey Blood.

The guest judge this week was Kathy Griffin, who was thoughtful enough to show up tanned a lovely shade of Snooki. But again, Kathy was not bringing the reality show crazy. I loved seeing her here—and I loved that Tyra had to pretend she can take a joke—but I felt like Ms. G was holding back. Perhaps her best scenes were left on the cutting room floor. (A Tyra Banks impression? Oh, God, please let there be a Tyra Banks impression for the bonus footage episode.) At least Kathy told Dominique she needed to look more blackout drunk in photos, which is advice I think we can all take to heart.

And in the end, we lost Bianca, the realest of them all. How sad that she had to leave with what may be Tyra’s cruelest parting shot: “You’re not Beyonce, Bianca.” But their names are so close! I hope that Bianca is one day able to realize the irony of her I’m-so-above- reality stance and her I’m-not-here-to-make-friends behavior, but until then, I’m just glad she was able to make it so far while staying so consistently unpleasant.

Oh, we also lost Kayla. I have little to say about her. While I liked Kayla a lot during her cycle, she was a total non-entity among All Stars. I do give her credit for breaking new ground on Top Model, and reminding America that just because you’re a lesbian doesn’t mean you can’t be really fucking dull.

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The episode began with Bianca and Lisa continuing to complain about each other, as though they don’t realize we’re over both of them by now. I don’t care which one’s the bigger asshole, because I feel like it alternates week-to-week, and I can only handle so many iterations of, “You’re just jealous.” Maybe I’m just jealous. Instead, let’s focus on Laura, whose keen observations continue to be real Top Model highlights for me. On her winning photo from last week: “This is the best photo to get best photo because you’re honoring Michael Jackson.” Oh, Laura. Every week she moonwalks into my heart.

The contestants headed to the beach for a flag football challenge, during which all the eliminated models returned. Each team was supported by two NFL football players, but I didn’t bother learning their names because sports. Sorry, I’m the wrong kind of gay for that! Just ask Kayla, who noted that she had to win “especially because I’m a lesbian, and we all have to win at sports.” In addition to winning money for some worthy charities, the models took photos outside of the game for the chance at earning a spot on one of Tyra’s websites and some Brittny Gastineau jewelry. For those who don’t know, Brittny Gastineau is “an incredible socialite that everyone strives to be at some point in their lives,” according to Bre. Also, she spells her name fucking stupid.

During the game, Bianca tried to kill Lisa, who seemed to take it all in stride. “Bam, that was for getting in my business!” Bianca said. “Bam, that was for talking out of turn!” I’m learning a lot about healthy conflict management. (Violence!) The photos were all pretty generic. I’m glad Bre explained, “The one thing I love to do in photos is bring energy,” because wow, what a revelation. Kayla won, which meant she got a lot of jewelry that she can’t wear. (Lesbians aren’t allowed to wear jewelry.) By the way, her photo shoot for Tyra’s site was directed by national treasure Andre Leon Talley wearing a rice paddy hat. So I guess that’s a thing we’re doing now.

The actual photo shoot was way more interesting, because it involved legit model Coco Rocha, and the contestants pretending to kick the crap out of each other. But the drama never really escalated the way I was hoping. I was thinking Bianca might claw Shannon’s eyes out, but honestly I would have settled for a really fierce slap. That having been said, I thought all the girls did pretty well. Aside from Allison, who was on another planet, and not, like, in the normal fun Allison way. And I guess Bre and Alexandria both sucked, but I was definitely entertained — Bre shrieked in Coco’s face while Alexandria moaned soulfully on the floor.

“Are we ready to get this bitch fight going?” Tyra asked at judges’ table. But once again, I was underwhelmed. I was really hoping Coco would at least scratch Nigel when he called her “the master of ugly-pretty.” And what about when Tyra called Angelea “the beautiful bride of Frankenstein”? By far my favorite assessment was Tyra telling Alexandria that her photo “looks like some reality show contestant that got to do a photo shoot with a supermodel.” I’m obsessed with this, because it implies that Tyra thinks her models are somehow not reality show contestants. I’m starting to feel like she doesn’t even watch her own show. (Totally kidding. She watches all her shows, and she records herself watching them, so she can later watch herself watching herself. It’s very meta.)

Honestly, I thought Alexandria was a goner, because she uttered such bullshit lines as “I’m not done yet,” and, “I’m still in it to win it.” Actually, she should have been automatically disqualified for saying, “I’m gonna punch high fashion in the face.” But Bre was ousted instead, and I can’t say I’m disappointed. Bianca’s probably a little bummed about losing her only ally—thank God she’s not here to make friends. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to practice my >Coco Rocha angles. Let’s see if I can do 75 in a minute without getting whiplash.

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In one corner, we have Lisa, who warned the models to, “Hold on tight, kids!” (Don’t call your fellow competitors “kids” when you’re one of the oldest contestants. I’m just saying.) And in the other corner, Bianca, who doesn’t understand why she has to hang out with people she doesn’t like and be sad when the people she does like have to go home. This is her second stint on a reality show—there is no excuse for not knowing how this shit works. Dominique surmised that Bianca “thinks she’s above all this,” and added, “You can never be above an opportunity.” All right, Dominique, I will give you $20 to hang out at my next party. You’re not above that, are you?

But angelic Shannon—who is a Christian, she and everyone else would remind you—got in on the action, when she devised a phone sharing system that Bianca had a problem with. Actually, Bianca had a problem with Shannon’s math not adding up, which is a rather legitimate complaint to make. (No matter how hard you pray, 200 minutes is more than an hour and a half.) Shannon broke down immediately, because black people are scary, I guess. And then Lisa jumped in with, “Bang. Boom. Pow,” officially rendering her more cartoonish than Adam West’s Batman. All of these models need to think before they speak. Allison came off best, because she didn’t say a word. Just the O_O face and a graceful exit. I love Allison, you guys. I am ^___^ when she’s on screen.

The challenge in Wednesday night’s episode was a carousel runway to model the Kardashian Collection. I literally died and went to reality show heaven. (Yep, literally.) As Laura explained, “The Kardashians—they’re like the biggest, hottest thing, so to wear their clothes is amazing.” Was this a continuation of last week’s acting challenge? The clothes were hideous, and I say that as someone who knows very little about fashion but knows a lot about ugly. Ugh, the leopard print, the shoulder pads. The ‘80s Michael Jackson costumes the models would go on to wear felt way more contemporary to me.

And the fighting continued, much to my delight. Let’s take a moment to talk about all the mixed metaphors at play. Lisa said that Bre’s coddling of Bianca is “like Bre has a toddler at Disneyland on a leash.” Later, she said Bianca looks like a mean dog when she walked the runway with her stank face. Damn it, Lisa, which leashed creature is she? But Alexandria deserves credit for babbling on with a string of incoherent animal metaphors that even Tyra Banks would flinch at: “I didn’t sign myself up to play with some minnows in a little pond. I’m with the big dogs. Let’s fight with some sharks. We’re gonna use our teeth, fins. Let’s do this.” Alexandria is a mad scientist, right? Because I’m getting less Next Top Model and more Next Top Dr. Moreau.

The bad blood escalated, with Bianca repeatedly complaining about “taking shit from the Christian.” Alliances were forged. Lines were drawn. Where do I stand in the Bianca-Bre vs. Lisa-Shannon battle? Fuck it, I’m still Team Allison. Bianca’s attitude was atrocious, Bre was stirring shit up like a reality show contestant (OK, I guess points there), Lisa was being contrary for the sake of it, and Shannon bugged the crap out of me with the preemptive waterworks. You don’t cry as soon as you’re confronted with something. You wait till the other person is yelling, and then you start to bawl. Otherwise you just look unbalanced, and there’s nothing Christ-like about that. (He had excellent posture.)

This week’s photo shoot was Michael Jackson-themed, but it ended up being somehow less ridiculous than you’d imagine. Even special guest judge La Toya was weirdly subdued—I only caught half a trademark giggle. Disappointing. Most of the MJ-inspired outfits were obvious choices, and I didn’t think any of the models really channeled the King of Pop. I was also a little horrified that they coated some of the paler girls in a thick layer of bronzer. (It’s not blackface if you use brown!) At the end of the shoot, La Toya told her new BFFs, “Thank you so much for doing this for my brother.” A Top Model photo shoot was the last item on MJ’s bucket list. Now his ghost can cross over!

Elimination was—well, not an elimination. No one went home! And I love how Tyra played it up like this was all La Toya’s decision and not the plan from the get-go. Come on now. The “no one is going home this week” shock factor died about 16 reality competitions ago. Can we stop pretending that Tyra is reinventing the wheel, and start focusing on Lisa’s absurdly awesome sense of style? Thanks. Whatever, bottom two Lisa and Angelea were clearly tickled about getting to stick around. “I feel like somebody saved me,” Angelea offered, wondering out loud if it was La Toya, Michael Jackson, or Jesus. I will put good money on Jesus. Oh, Jesus is Tyra Banks.

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The contestants got a visit from Kristin Cavallari, who reminded them that they are always going to have haters. (And subtly reminded us to tune in to H8R, every Wednesday at 8 p.m. on The CW!) Then the ladies were shipped off to The Grove to get interviewed by Extra’s Mario Lopez. (He’s also the host of H8R, a show you can watch.) Nigel promised “tough questions,” so I was hoping for something controversial, like, “What’s Tyra Banks’ worst quality?” Instead, Lopez threw a bunch of softballs I could have answered myself. And I am terrible at public speaking and sports.

The models split themselves up into two teams so that the winning team could have immunity, something Tyra straight-up stole from Bravo. I didn’t think anyone was that impressive, but no one struck me as aggressively awful either. Bianca said, “I have word vomit just like everybody else,” which is the kind of thing I would babble in that situation. But Nigel chastised her for talking about vomit a lot, apparently unaware that “word vomit” is the polite alternative to “verbal diarrhea.” He also told Angelea that she was too toned down, which sent her into a rage in the limo. I’m not sure Angelea appreciated the irony of screaming about her professionalism, but she did make some valid points: “I know how to conduct myself, bitch. I worked at a bank.”

Next was the photo challenge, which paired the models up and had them walk on stilts. “I have a deathly fear of heights,” Bianca said, like we’d be silly enough to forget her similar freak-out in China. I’m not a fair-weather Top Model fan, OK? Respect. As far as challenges go, this was a little low-key, though I did enjoy Dominique’s surprisingly self-aware, “I have a whole lot of face going on right here.” Camille offered some charming transphobic remarks, Angelea complained about her lack of lower-body strength, and Alexandria made a series of Martina Navratilova tennis noises. It’s like, I’ve seen it before, you know?

I guess I’m more interested in the models at home, because these are established reality show personalities. Just film them and the magic will happen. If I wanted to see gangly people on stilts, I’d go to Cirque du Soleil. (Also if I weren’t afraid of French Canadian clowns. That’s a bigger “if.”) Step up the photo shoots, All Stars, or give me more of Isis dressing like a ballerina and saying, “I’m gonna look like Black Swan.” Or better yet, do a Black Swan-themed photo shoot. Or better still, they all stab each other with shards of broken mirror.

At judges’ table, Tyra introduced Kristin Cavallari as one of the biggest reality stars living today, as opposed to all those reality stars who died in Vietnam, R.I.P. Kristin was fairly outspoken in her opinions, which is probably why Tyra made fun of her. But Tyra has a sense of humor, y’all. She even referenced the America’s Next Top Model sketch they did on Saturday Night Live. She thought it was hilarious! And she totally got the point, which was to commend Tyra’s versatility as a performer.

What can I say? A mediocre photo shoot begot a mediocre judging. Even Angelea confronting Nigel about his mixed message was weak. In the limo, I was promised “hood bitch,” and I got neither hood nor bitch at panel. Andre Leon Talley earned some points for calling Laura a “super feminine glamorpuss” and Bre a “strong robot out of Blade Runner.” But he instantly lost those points for bowing out of Top Model next cycle, and for not knowing that the “robots” in Blade Runner are called “replicants.”

After the awkward introduction of the phrase “booty tooch” (it’s this year’s “smize”!), the judges decided to send Isis packing. I didn’t think her photo was all that bad, but I’ll confess I know more about Blade Runner than I do modeling. Maybe I’m just bummed that Top Model All Stars now has one fewer trans contestant than Dancing With the Stars. But hey, if Isis had to leave, at least she left dressed like a Natalie Portman-esque ballerina. What happened to my sweet Isis? SHE’S GONE.

Like Isis, I will not be back next week. (I’m moving and won’t be able to recap. Ugh, life, right?) So practice your booty tooches while I’m away, and I’ll see you in a couple weeks.

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I attended Fashion Week’s first-ever plus-size runway show on Wednesday, for the label OneStopPlus. Yesterday, I posted about the body-image insensitive Pretzel Crisps incident — and unfortunately that was not the event’s only weight-insensitive gaffe.

But first the celebs! Nikki Blonsky and Gabourey Sidibe were in attendance, along with Jersey Housewife Caroline Manzo and America’s Next Top Model winner Whitney Thompson. I was most excited to see Richard Schiff, who played White House staffer Toby Ziegler on The West Wing – so maybe that says something about my qualifications for covering a fashion show.

Based on the fifteen minutes spend hanging around the press area, Gaby and Nikki truly seemed like two of most genuinely sweet celebs I’d ever encountered — so hooray for them! Gabourey seemed excited about the show as talked about a future where all designers will make clothes for plus-size women. She emphasized how many fashionable larger women there are, saying “we are here and we do buy clothes.”

Both Nikki and Gaby wore black, the color Nikki named as her favorite. The Hairspray star talked about feeling comfortable in her body, explaining her personal definition of beauty as “how you feel about yourself when you wake up in the morning.”

Here’s where the insensitivity and awkwardness comes in: After the red carpet we headed inside, where I was seated directly behind Nikki and Gaby. Fashion Week events are notoriously crowded and organizers try to cram as many people as possible into small spaces. The chairs alongside the runway are tiny and pressed right up against one another. The seating arrangements at this show would have been less-than-comfortable for anyone, but at an event held specifically for full-bodied women they were actually insulting. Inviting celebrity guests, then failing to give them ample room to sit comfortably? The audience was quite disappointed to see how, even at a plus-size event, the mindset of the industry is still so overwhelmingly skinny-centric.

But onto the fashion! The show featured models of a range of sizes, including former ANTM-er Toccara Jones (who hammed it up for the camera!). The clothes were pastel and flowy and quite pretty, in my opinion — though it must be said that none of them were anything Toby Ziegler would ever have worn.

(photos via Crushable, Getty)

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“You have the smallest waist in the world,” Tyra exclaimed. “Look at that waist!” She then added, with a killer Smize, “There’s something about her I quite like.”

Cue the outcry. AOL’s StyleList accused Tyra of exploiting Ann’s body for ratings – that stuff never happens on reality TV – and also of glorifying unnaturally skinny models, thereby perpetuating body-image issues among impressionable young women.

Point taken. But going after Ann herself? That’s a low blow. Says AOL’s Erin Donnelly, “Our reaction, if we saw this stick-thin waif on the street? We’d grab her, drag her to the nearest Denny’s, and force one Grand Slam breakfast after another down her throat. But that’s just us.” And then she goes on to pity “ultra-skinny girls like Ann who are being glorified for their unrealistic figures instead of getting the help — and all-you-can-eat buffet — they might need.”

Yes, it seem Ann DOES need some help, given her gaunt appearance; but joking about dragging her to an “all-you-can-eat buffet” is nothing less than smug (and petty) condescension toward a woman who might have serious and troubling body images of her own.

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