America's Next Top Model
The Girls Who Go To Milan

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Djb: B | Grade It Now!
Fellini Meeny Miney Mo

The girls seems to be eating lunch at a completely empty eatery in Little Italy when Tyra comes prancing in, screaming like a jackal in a way that would make the girls respond to anyone else doing it with a "that freak, like, totally needs to not freak out all the time" sneer. Tyra tells Camille that she's wearing too much makeup for some reason, but leaves out the offense of her strapless blue gown that you're only supposed to wear if the bride is seriously going out of her way to make the wedding party look as shitty as possible. And then -- because now she's a musician, I guess -- Tyra just launches into a rap, one which she told them she wrote in ninth grade. Anyway, here it is now:

I'm thirty-four C with no celluli [I'm guessing at that one ["I thought it was 'sili-c,' as in silicone, as in what breast implants are filled with" -- Wing Chun], but it rhymes with...]
Come take a feel and you will see
I'm five-foot nine, I look so fine
Yes, all my fellas are so divine

Yoanna still ain't got no rhythm, but at least someone stepped in to keep anyone from clapping on the 1 and the 3. Oh, wait! There's more!

When I'm finished with this
You might as well just dismiss
All the other female rappers
'Cause y'all [and this is a real guess, too, which has to be wrong] just pigs

This is all excellent confirmation of Tyra's oft-discussed youthful feelings of insecurity, right here. But just to show that I can kick it with y'all, I will share with you a rap that my friend Becca wrote when she was in fifth grade, which we still sing to this day. Amazingly, I didn't write any raps growing up (y'all check out Massapequa some time, and you will soon understand why "Parents Just Don't Understand" was pretty much the only rap song I was allowed to listen to until I was in high school), opting instead for tuneful melodies with titles like "How Many People?" and "Cutting Cantaloupe Is My Life (And I Will Cut It With A Knife)." But those songs are for another day. For now, here's "Chocolate," by my friend Becca. Tell me that the musical ability of someone I know doesn't way outclass the musical ability of one Tyra Banks. AGAIN.

What's your favorite kind of chocolate?
White, dark, or light?
Milk or hot, or what?
Comes in a nugget, a bar, or a chip
If you don't like chocolate, you're a dip

If I'm ever silent, it's because I'm thinking about the brilliance of that song.

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America's Next Top Model




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