America's Next Top Model
The Girl Who Wants It Bad

Episode Report Card
Djb: A | 1 USERS: A+
Adrianne's Season-Long Victory Lap

Ebony is twenty-four years old and forty feet tall, with a shiny shaved head astronauts use to locate New York from space with only the help of the naked eye. She's also a tall, bald, African-American lesbian, and on a reality television show, that's as far as the characterizations go. She's not randomly also allowed to be an heiress to a lollipop fortune or really love the music of Neil Young. Lesbian. Black. Defiant. Gotcha. Tyra asks her how she feels about expressing her lesbianism on television, and Ebony tells us a story about how when she was in high school, the girls wouldn't change with her in the locker room, so she went and changed with the boys. Because the moral of this story is that high-school boys love alternate sexualities. Thus the theater department/football team co-sponsored parties I always found myself attending after we wrapped rehearsal for Carousel. Er, I mean, "after tackling practice." My god. What am I even talking about? "Tackling practice"? Never mind. Ebony was right. They didn't need me. Those boys had no problem being totally gay all on their own.

"Hi, everyone, my name is Katie," says Katie, age twenty-one, also from that town in Illinois with the Waffle House and the Motel Six and the proximity to the interstate highway system specifically designed to take you somewhere else. She fears that the world sees her as a priss, but she takes pains to let us know that there's a softer side to Katie. A softer, more verbatim side than I could even do justice to meddling in the glory of the words: "People don't know the side of me, like, I love animals. No one knows that I'm an animal activist, that I'm with PETA. I do help them and email Congress. And, like, the wolves, and, like, trying to save them. Like, I just saved five polar bears." Just now? Like in one of those emails where you make money just sitting perfectly still? We cut to Katie's audition tape, where she shows us pillows slipcovered in zebra and leopard prints, and even if it's not actually their hides she's used (and who's to say that's not her version of saving them?), she's still keeping warm sleeping under a big ol' pile of irony. Eco-friendly or not, that bedroom still looks like a brothel from the set of the ill-advised trilogy capper, Babe III: Hit Me, Babe, One More Time. Her audition tape declines to show us her personal computer, the nerve center of her activism where she's all, "To: Congress, Re: Wolves." But we know it's there.

Oy, Natalie. Her mom was on drugs and she has forty siblings and she spent so much time in foster care that they probably legally changed her last name to "Foster" and she wants to be a supermodel because, and I quote, "I have these people who are looking up to me, and if I don't succeed, what are they gonna do?" Eat...bugs? I don't know the answer. Is that the answer? Seriously.

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America's Next Top Model




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