America's Next Top Model : Cycle 7 Recaps:
Episode 7 “The Girl Who Wrecks the Car"
by D. Yueh
Recapping the Recap - Last week, we were treated to a highlight episode made up of clips from previous episodes, including our favorite Monique tantrums and other wacky moments. In that same spirit, I thought to cut and paste paragraphs from previous recaps, so I could relive the times I called her a bitch, a bee-yatch, a biatch and a beyotch. Yeah good times.
We Miss You Brooke - Anywho. This week, the girls come home to find a letter from perky and past tense Brooke, who was sent home two weeks ago after being edged out in a final showdown against Eugena. Jaeda is reading it (without moving her lips, surprise!) but, sadly, she doesn't share the contents with us. How was graduation? What have you been doing since you got home? Were you able to wash all the Fabio out? Guess we'll never know.
Melrose, Michelle and CariDee are sitting around pining for Brookey. CariDee has her guitar out again and this time, she has a lovely straw cowgirl hat on. As she strums, Melrose improvises an homage to Brooke, “We love you Brooke and we can miss you like hell…. You brought to this house a feeling I could feelll…” She sings “feel” like “fell” to make it rhyme. Whatever it takes, I suppose. Wholly unimpressed, Michelle turns her ennui toward the window and stares out at the backyard.
Why Am I Here? - The newest member of Baby Dykes of America, (although you'd never know it because it hasn't been brought up again since she kinda, sorta, mostly, but not really came out,) Michelle is contemplating her ambivalence about the whole modeling thing. Unlike Melrose who could “go another ten years doing this and be happy with it,” Michelle isn't so sure strutting up and down runways with a bored look of distain on her face is the way she wants to spend her youth. She should be trying to get into gay bars with a phony ID, like the rest of us did.
I'm not sure why they haven't gone anywhere with Michelle's coming out, except maybe living with the likes of Eugena and Anchal made her go back in.
Lacking the requisite fashion sense and drive, Michelle says, “I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm kinda not figuring it out.” It was Amanda who dragged her onto the show, Michelle didn't need it. Sisters will do that to you. Mine is dragging me to a cooking class soon, where I'm sure I'm going to say, “I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm kinda not caring.”
Tyra Mail - “If you could bump one girl out of the competition, who would it be?” reads Anchal. Gah, where to begin? I'd bring back Brooke and Megan, keep CariDee, and dump the rest. No, wait. That's my Top Model harem. Uh, never mind.
A Day at the Beach - The girls are brought to the beach where a volleyball net and 6' 3” professional beach volleyball player and smokin' hottie model Gabrielle Reece await them. Gabby, (may I call you Gabby?) is there to talk to the girls about action modeling. Unlike other challenges where falling into a swimming pool or tripping over someone's entrée while sashaying across a dinner table, Gabby is talking about real action modeling: bodies in motion, athletic beauty, giving good face while shaking sand out your Speedo bottom, ya know, like that.
Tomboy Michelle is excited because this has the sporty whiff of sweat to it. “I always thought that you couldn't be athletic and model,” she says. Do the words Maria Sharapova and Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue mean anything to anyone other than me?
Jaeda is excited because she played volleyball in college. I can't decide which is more shocking: Jaeda is excited about something for once, or that she went to college. Actually, the most shocking thing is that she's hasn't bitched about her hair once yet. It is getting longer – it's almost touching her ears.
The challenge today is to dive to the ground for the ball and give the camera a modelesque face while doing it. Sure, no problem. After we're done here, we're going to be throwing ourselves down a flight of stairs, but in a totally hot, sexy way that really brings out our eyes.
The girls have to change into bikinis right there on the beach and Anchal is not happy about it, no ma'am. I'm sure in real life, she's fine, but standing next to the Olive Oil and String Bean, otherwise known as The Twins, Anchal looks downright hippy.
Yeah, she's got a few days' provisions in those saddlebags. “I don't need to be in a bikini doing action moves, so I wasn't very happy,” she says about the whole nightmare. Yeah, well, I don't need to be sitting here watching you complain about your weight, when I could pop my DVD of Bound in at any time. So let's both suck it up.
As Gabby shows the girls how to dive for a ball and land harmlessly on their stomachs in the sand, I'm wondering how long it will take for someone to get smacked in the face with the ball, or better yet, for someone to lose their top. Or both.
CariDee, Eugena and Melrose all solve the potentially career-ending injury of getting hit in the face by missing the ball completely. Jaeda does much better, not because she played in college, but because she doesn't have all that femmy hair getting in her eyes.
“I look stupid,” admits Amanda, because she winced and turned her head at the last minute. Okay, Amanda isn't the sporty one, but Michelle, her gibbon-like arms outstretched for the ball, lands on her face and gets a snootful of sand. I guess some girls really can't be athletic and model.
Anchal mutters under her breath, “Hell no...” but what choice does she have? Do the damn challenge, Mopey McPouty or wade into the surf with rocks in your bikini and kill yourself. Just know that you'll probably wash ashore and be mistaken for a beached whale. I'm just saying.
Anchal self-consciously removes her towel, which she had tightly wrapped around her bulging waist and lardtastic ass. She gets a couple of easy balls lobbed at her and unlike CariDee, Eugena and Melrose, she doesn't miss them. There, Cankle, that wasn't so bad, now was it?
Gabrielle wishes them all luck as she strides off the beach. The girls and I can't take our eyes off of her awesome bod. That's how you carry yourself, children. Not like Anchal's “big ol' blob” style, as Eugena so eloquently puts it.
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