The Gospel According to John

Bravo's 'Make Me a Supermodel': A catch-up

You all need to get right with God because the end is near.

If you're not watching 'Make Me a Supemodel'--which is inexplicable--then you should be because it has reached a level of bizarreness the vocabulary for which we do not yet have at our disposal.

First, we need to discuss a moment last night that I didn't think I'd ever actually see in my lifetime. Jackie, this gorgeous, beautiful thing--seriously, look at her. She's the African-American one in the middle:

Sidebar: I am convinced that Nikki Taylor, also pictured here, was rendered brain-dead in that car accident she had, and to get her to speak, the producers taze her in the spine. Every time she speaks on camera, it's as if she's just been jolted from a deep, deep reverie. And then she speaks like a robot. Seriously, watch. Bitch is getting zapped by minions unseen.

Anyway. Jackie. There's no way to pussyfoot around this so I'll just say it outright.

BITCH FARTED ON CUE.

Oh you heard me. My dear sweet gorgeous Jackie--of whom there are infuriatingly few good pictures at bravo.com and who is not done justice by the photo I've included, for the record--made the mistake of telling the models she can fart on cue, and the guys present, since they're all 9 years old...except for this one

who is innately perfect and of whom I will never speak ill because to speak ill of Ronnie is to speak ill of all things good and pure...all thought it would be HILARIOUS if she farted. In a restaurant. At the dinner table. On-camera. On national television.

I mean...

Next we have issues of a homosexual nature. Firstly, there's Ben, who's a 22-yr-old married prison guard. Yes, married prison guard. My Ronnie has taken quite a liking to Ben (it's fine, we've talked it over and we've agreed to grant each other a certain latitude while he's away)...and Ben has taken a liking back. He lets Ronnie get in bed with him and rip his shirts off--literally, and yes, it happened on the show, TiVo that shi* if you don't believe me--AND went so far as to admit that if he were drunk, and Ronnie came on to him...well, who knows?

But he's totally straight. No, he is. He's straight. And married. And stuff. (eyeroll). I mean:

just looks like two dudes hangin' to me, right? Not like a couple taking in a fashion show, which is what it actually is. Oh also? This:

GAY.

Also, this queen:

claims to be STRAIGHT and conducts himself as if he is the single sexiest girl-toy ever. Despite the fact that he is GAYER THAN ANYONE EVER, has a VAGINA and, to refresh your memory, THIS:

Please.

And finally:

WASH YOUR HAIR.

CASEY. Listen to me very carefully: YOU NEED TO BECOME INTIMATELY ACQUAINTED WITH A BOTTLE OF PERT PLUS. Seriously. WASH THAT SHI*. You are foul. Vile, revolting and foul.

P.S.:

For good measure.

Bravo's 'Make Me a Supermodel': A Second Glance

You may remember my rather scathing post last week about Bravo's newest reality outing "Make Me a Supermodel," wherein 14 exercises in mediocrity vie for their big break under the auspices of a gorgeous Niki Taylor and Taye Diggs Tyson Beckford (who I've always thought was overrated, but whatever). A good friend of mine is one of the producers of the show, and at his behest, I have given it a second chance. And oh am I glad I did.

While last week's snoozefest travesty of a casting special was taped quite some time ago, last night's episode was taped just last week, and in the intervening time, the models have gotten both dumber and hotter (folks been hittin' the gym like what). Now, there's more to love, there's more to hate, and overall, a ton more to love to hate, and I now officially love how much I hate it and hence I think I just plain love it. In a hateful sort of way.

The show opened with the models' first photo shoot, which was outdoors on a cold day in Times Square. Cue the first idiotic quote of the night:

Dominic: "There's not a lot that can intimidate me. I've ridden 10 foot plus waves, I've snowboarded down huge mountains, so, I've been in situations a lot sketchier than the middle of Times Square."

Have you Dominic? Very impressive, but then how comes it that you look so constipated in your photo? Still, I give him a pass, because between looking WAY better this week than last and the aforementioned quote, he upped both the idiocy and eye-candy factors of this show right out of the gate. Well done, Dominic. A+

Then there's this utter and complete tool:

Perry, who's every bit as dimwitted as he looks in that picture and, in a derisive response to the skintight mesh shirt he's wearing, used a listhpy "gay voice" and said something like "Yeth, I'm drethed and ready to go!"

Cuz the gay voice thing is still REEEALLY funny. Way to strike while the zeitgeist iron is hot, Per. And I would strongly advise you  against pulling that brand of humor around any fashion industry insiders, cuz those are some vicious mutha-fuc*in' queens. They will cut a bitch. Trust.

But I still don't hate Perry as much as I hate THIS guy:

CASEY! Listen to me very carefully:

WASH YOUR HAIR.

I want to commandeer a taxi and mow him down.

BUT! Oh my God you guys, set your TiVo for the replay because then you can watch him in the photo shoot MAKING ZOOLANDER FACES. You think I'm kidding? SET YOUR TIVO. It will make your week, I'm not even kidding. The judges even make a comment about it behind his back. And then, when he's done being photog'ed, he says: "I gave them as much sex in the eyes and facial expression as I could."

BWAHHH HAHAHAHAAAA!!!

Thankfully, there is at least one--but only one--shining star among the menfolk. He's gorgeous, he's normal, he's not too terribly arrogant, and he has yet to say a single stupid thing (though, admittedly, it's only episode two). Ladies and gents, I present to you my pick to win it all:

Ronnie.

Pardon me. I need a moment.

Aaaand we're back. On to the ladyfolk...Oh dear.

Here's the other reason to TiVo a repeat: in the opening fashion shoot in Times Sq. some total and complete buffoon thought it would be a good idea to make aaaallllll the girls' eyebrows--what? Pink? Orange? I don't even KNOW what color it technically is. My required costuming class in college didn't delve deeply enough into color theory, and honestly, I'm so bad at creating tangible pieces of anything creative and/or artistic--examples include a papier-mache bird in 3rd grade that ended up shaped like a peanut and clay necklaces so ugly that my mother wouldn't even wear them around the house--that I was just focusing on getting out of that class with a vest--yes, we had to make a vest for our final. Who the fuc* makes a vest?--that wouldn't earn me a failing grade that I really didn't pay attention to much else. So lacking the accurate vocabulary and proper investigatory acumen, let's just split the difference and call it fluorescent peach. Or how about HEINOUS. Can HEINOUS be a color? Can I designate it as such right here and now? Can HEINOUS (spelled always in caps) be added to the color wheel as of January 11, 2008? Because it needs to be. I'm just going to operate under the assumption that this will be a needs-based decision and forge ahead with this new nomenclature.

So yes. All the girls' eyebrows were painted a bright HEINOUS. It was totally and completely ghastly and deeply upsetting. You can kinda get an idea of it here:

Right? I mean...oh my God.

 

However, my pain was assuaged by the truly wonderful selection of inane and laugh-out-loud retarded quotes the womenfolk contributed.

Ahem.

Stephanie:

"As an artist and intellectual, I want to show people that modeling can be more than skin deep."

And, in response to the models being forced to burn an article of clothing as a kick-off to the competition:

"I like the idea of getting rid of material things to show that you're ready for something new." (The 'something new' in question, of course, being a career getting your picture taken modeling...material things).

Shannon, who walks the runway like some sort of mutant spider/giraffe hybrid and was TOTALLY that girl who got screamin' mad at you for laughing at the part where Helen Hunt smoked PCP and jumped out a window in that one ABC After School Special that you had to watch in health class in 6th grade:

"I've always been a creative person. I just came out of the womb loving art."

Though I will say that I can totally see Shannon stomping down a runway in Milan covered in, say, Dior or something.

And last, but most certainly not least--in fact, MOST, by a lot--my favorite, the quote against which I will weigh all other quotes for the duration of the season:

Aryn:

"To come to this…like…an opportunity like this…it's just…like…I'm still spinning, it's just crazy, so..."

YES.

And now, quickly and without belaboring the point (because my love for this show is, of course, rooted in how much I so far love to hate it), the ones I love so far:

Holly. I think she's unique, spunky, confident and sweet, and has yet to say something too terribly stupid. Everyone seems to hate her haircut--seriously, they were all talkin' some mad shi* about it, especially the casting agent who looked like a short, anorexic Cher--but I think it's adorable and very shades of Isabella Rossellini.

And my most favorite of all:

Jackie. This picture doesn't do her justice, and her bio pic on the Bravo website makes her look like a pig mated with Thandie Newton, and those shoes are fuc*ing disgusting. But just take my word for it: she's drop-dead gorgeous, a total natural as far as the whole walking thing and--get this--actually pretty intelligent. You can tell this girl's got a mind for business behind that pretty face. And though she did make a fuss over not wanting to wear a string bikini (Shannon ended up wearing the hell out of it)--I mean, you're a model for God's sake, floss your buttcheeks and get down that runway--I still love her. Go, Jackie, go! I hope she wins.

Well, except for...

Ohhhh Ronnie (though those sunglasses are reeeee-dic)...

And now for our conclusion.

Frankie. Where to begin.

I don't hate Frankie as much as I hate Casey. Casey's a total douchebag who thinks he's like deep and edgy and really contributing something to the universe when really, he's just a total douchebag and nothing more. Frankie on the other hand...well, Frankie is arrogant and thinks he's a world-class pro and is really just a total douchebag as well, BUT: he doesn't purport to be anything more than a pretty face. For that, I'm willing to be a little more lenient.

However, we need to talk about Frankie. Because this whole most-gorgeous-man-in-the-world complex he's got going? I don't really get it. I think the photographer's comment about him sums it up:

"He's a bit too effeminate for my taste."

Presicesly. Frankie, who seems to be under the impression that he is a devastatingly handsome Latin  sex god in the manner of, say, Ricky Martin or similar, in reality looks more like a sexy-ugly girl, which makes his Latin Adonis complex all the more perplexing.

However, what I find most confounding is the following:

 

Am I wrong here? Or are you as nearly certain as I am that were we to tart Frankie up in Madge's bedazzled outfit--all of which, I would wager, Frankie has at home in his closet--microphone included---he could have a very lucrative career ahead of him as her body double?

Food for thought until next week.

Ehh, one more to tide you over till Monday:

Bravo's 'Make Me a Supermodel'

I have such a bone to pick with Bravo.

To be clear: I love Bravo. They realized the untapped genius of Kathy Griffin, capitalized on the batshi* hilarity of Paula Abdul (the episode where she decides to remodel the temporary house she's renting while her real house is being remodeled--don't read that again or your head might explode--is...well there arent words for what it is) and even made that crazy LA real estate dude kind of interesting. At least the one time I watched it. (Seriously. Only once. I swear. And mainly because his assistant is 40, looks like Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and claims to be a rapper).

So you can imagine the appeal of 'Make Me a Supermodel,' right? Reality TV geniuses take pretty idiots and film them. Sold. Too bad what we actually get is an attempt at a classed-up version of 'America's Next Top Model.' Yawn. I demand a refund.

The main problem with 'Make Me a Supermodel' is this:

NOBODY ON IT IS HOT.

Sure, there are some pretty enough girls but none of them--except for Jacki, perhaps--are particulary beautiful. A couple look like the sort of girl you'd find, say, working the counter at a Dairy Queen in Nebraska. Except thin. And one girl, Shannon, looks like E.T. (Joking! All God's creatures are beautiful! [Except this one. Kidding!] {No I'm not.}) But the audience for Bravo's shows are girls and gays, and those two demographics will have a field day mocking these Plain Janes, not to mention the Plain Unfortunate Janes. What this show needs, of course, is hot male models to appease both groups, right? Well according to Bravo, not so much. Get a load of these dorks!

Mind you, that's the tarted up, website-ready version. That's these people at their best. They're workable as, say, cast members of 'The Real World' (sidebar: when will MTV stop inflicting this tomfoolery upon us? I implore thee, cable gods: smite them). But models? I'm of the mind that male models should be of the ridiculously, impossibly, low-self-esteem-inducing variety of physical perfection. Like, say, this guy:

Right? I mean, when you think male model, that's what you think of, isn't it? Someone who you'll never look like and never be able to sleep with in a million years, but will make you fantasize about one or the other or both. Instead, we're given the sorts of guys who aren't male model material but that think they are. It's like we ordered Madonna but were given Dannii Minogue.

To add insult to already serious televisual injury, these subpar "models" are some of the biggest idiots ever. Not that that's surprising, I suppose. To wit: there is Casey, who's Buddhist, plays the guitar, and lives in rural Georgia with his mom and brother and his brother's boyfriend. So progressive! So out of the ordinary! So insufferably impressed with himself and, more importantly, greasy! And then there's one of the girls, so unmemorable that I can't even remember which girl she is, who said in all seriousness that she's dreamed of modeling all her life. Of course you have, honey.

I've always figured the impetus to go into modeling was more like a marriage of convenience: "I'm insanely hot, so I might as well go make a bargeload of money from it. Perhaps I'll call that photographer that tried to sleep with me at Cipriani last Saturday."

But I guess that's just me.

PS: If you want to feel reeeeally good about yourself, take a quick look at the comments on this Bravo blog entry. Pure, undistilled genius.