The Wife:

Before I actually talk about the meat of this episode, let me take a minute to be super girly and praise resident beefcake Matthew Morrison, who originated the role of TV dance hunk Link Larkin on Broadway in Hairspray. Dear. Sweet. Mother of all that is holy. That periwinkle cardi! That tie! Those shades! That murse! Morrison looked so superbly hot in this week’s opening scene that I was pretty much beside myself for the rest of the episode. Why wouldn’t Jayma Mays’ Emma be all up on that shit?

One major change in last week’s re-edited pilot was the addition of a romantic foil for Will in gym teacher Ken Tanaka. The re-edit added a few scenes in which he makes his interest in Emma known, as well as her disinterest in him, and I’m glad for those scenes, as I think they help to anchor Emma’s desire for her unattainable beau, who is preparing for the expansion of his family by purchasing a far-too-expensive house simply because Terri wants something shiny and pre-fab, with a $14,000 grand foyer.

“I’ve already did the math, Will. All we have to do is give up Applebee’s and not run the AC for the first couple of summers.” — Terri

Sue continues to rage against the very idea of Glee Club and this week’s methods of sabotage include finding an arcane rule that would required the Glee Club to have at least 12 members in order to show at Regionals, which they presently do not have. (By Sue’s count, it’s only 5 and a half, because of “that cripple in the wheelchair.”) Will’s idea for a membership drive is to show the student body just how awesome Glee Club is by having the kids perform a disco number at an upcoming assembly. Rachel, knowing that this is going to be social suicide for everyone involved (and will likely get her several more slurpees in the face), recruits Finn to help make flyers in lieu of doing the assembly, but gets caught using the Cheerios copy machine, which simply provides more fuel for Sue’s anti-Glee fire. Fortunately, the kids are only asked to pay for the copies they made (much to Sue’s chagrin) and they press on with the assembly.

“Lady Justice wept today.” — Sue

Straight hustlas.

Straight hustlas.

Rachel attends a meeting of Quinn’s celibacy club just to see what all the fuss is about, which, naturally, turns out to be an exercise in complete ridiculousness, replete with dancing against balloons and mantras such as, “Remember, it’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing.” Rachel can’t stand the hypocrisy of the club, and speaks out against it, which earns her some points with Finn. In fact, the two later share a kiss on a not-so-impromptu indoor picnic during a vocal rehearsal, a scene that, by the way, reminded me very, very much of “Mirror Blue Night” from Spring Awakening.

“I’m still on the fence about this celibacy club. I only joined to get into Quinn Fabray’s pants.” — Finn

So while Will picks up some nighttime janitorial shifts to help pay for the house he and Terri are buying, Rachel devises a plan to change the song for the assembly into something that the student body will actually respond to. Teenagers are horny; they want sex. And so, on assembly day, the Glee Club performs the most hilariously inappropriate song to sing at an assembly . . . ever: “Push It” by Salt n’ Pepa. Frankly, this was a pretty amazing performance, and I think it accurately captured most of the crazy shit we came up with in my high school drama club. (High school friends, that’s accurate, right? I mean . . . right?)

“That was the most inappropriate thing I’ve ever seen in 20 years of teaching, and that includes an elementary school production of Hair.” — Sue

Rachel’s little stunt, rather than getting Glee Club entirely disbanded as Sue would hope, gets them slapped with a list of approved songs, most of which are either about Jesus of balloons. To keep tabs on Glee Club, Sue sends Quinn and a couple of other Cheerios to audition and join the club. I must say, Quinn did give an amazing audition to “Say a Little Prayer for You,” but I feel Rachel’s pain in that her solo in “Don’t Stop Believin’” is given to Quinn. Especially because this means she won’t have anymore alone time with Finn, and her episode-ending performance of Rhianna’s “Take a Bow” was certainly heart-wrenching.

However, nothing in this episode was more heart-wrenching than the scene where Emma helps out Will with his janitorial work, and he confronts her about her OCD, which stems from the time her brother pushed her into the runoff pool on a visit to a dairy farm. Since that day, she hasn’t ever felt clean, nor has she been able to stop smelling that smell. So she lives her life not eating dairy and washing her hands repeatedly and polishing every single grape before she puts it in her mouth. It was sheer beauty to watch Will put a tiny bit of chalk on her nose, and wipe it away after 10 seconds, but incredibly sad to see that Ken Tenaka had witnessed this act, and even sadder when he later confronts her about it, assuring her that he’s really the best that she’ll ever be able to do in their town, and that he’d put up with her crazy if only she’d stop chasing after a married man.

Le sigh.

Stray thoughts:

  • Jayma Mays’ Emma has inherited my Chuck Charles wardrobe envy. I want every single thing this woman wears, and it’s appropriate she should inherit this distinction, as she, too, was on Pushing Daisies.
  • It’s a major plot point, but so emotionally insignificant that I didn’t feel like talking about it: Terri is having a hysterical pregnancy, but rather than tell Will, she’s apparently going to fake a pregnancy. Good news, though. Now they’re not buying that crazy-ass house.
  • I just realized the jock-cheerleader pairing is Quinn and Finn. That’s amazing.
  • Hands down, the funniest part of this episode is Finn’s anti-ejaculation flashback of him hitting someone with his car. HILARIOUS.
  • “They’re gonna throw fruit at us. And I just had a facial.” — Kurt
  • “My dad always said you become a man when you buy your first house. I’m not sure what he meant by that, since he burned ours down after a drunken argument.” — Will
  • “This is where our daughter or gay son will sleep.” — Terri, about a room with a sign reading, “A Princess Sleeps Here”
  • “This banister was made by Ecuadorian children!” — Realtor
  • Every single one of Emma’s guidance pamphlets was hilarious. I can’t decide if my favorite is “Radon: The Silent Killer” or “Wow! There’s Hair Down There!”
  • Rachel: I guess I don’t have a gag reflex.
    Emma: One day, when you’re older, that’ll turn out to be a gift.
  • WANT: Rachel’s horse sweater.

The Husband:

My favorite guidance pamphlet was “My Mom Is Bipolar And She Won’t Stop YELLING.”

I am very glad to see the musical aspects of this show open up, because there are still plenty of people out there who are trying to convince the world that this show isn’t a “musical.” Yes it is. It is a musical. It’s a backstage musical, which was a subgenre for much of the first couple decades of the movie musical. A musical is not defined by simply having people break into song without lead-up, otherwise dozens of already determined musicals would cease to be considered musicals. (Seriously, I was involved in a major IMDB message board argument over this shit. I know musicals, bitch.) But unlike the pilot, we got glimpses during Rachel’s rendition of “Take a Bow,” which opened up outside of the auditorium to have her singing it into her hairbrush and, most importantly, in the middle of the school’s hallway as Finn and Quinn flirt nearby. So now the show can have its musical cake and eat it, too, and for that I am grateful.

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The Wife:

I’d be lying if I said that the pilot of Ryan Murphy’s Glee was perfect. It was far from it, but so much of the show is so winning that it’s easy to overlook its few flaws and fully embrace it. It’s not a silly musical in the slightest. Ryan Murphy has always treated music with much more respect than that, even when he’s being ironic or cheeky during surgeries on Nip/Tuck. On that show, the surgery music is used to dig deeply into something as seemingly superficial as plastic surgery. Sometimes it’s funny (such as the use of Don McLean’s “Vincent” during a surgery in which Rosie O’Donnell as Dawn Budge gets a transplant ear grown on a mouse’s back . . . it’s a long story), and sometimes it’s incredibly moving (to this day, I can’t hear Leo Delibes “Flower Duet” without thinking about conjoined twins Rose and Raven Rosenburg, who died after their separation surgery and asked to be put back together when they were buried).

On Glee, the music functions as it should in any great musical: it’s intended to give us an insight into the characters, and I can think of no better example of this than Lea Michele’s (Broadway’s Spring Awakening) audition song for the new glee club, “On My Own” from Les Miserables. I hate Les Mis, but to hear Rachel Berry sing it while hearing about her backstory was the most sublime use of that song. You see, despite the fact that Rachel’s two gay dads raised her to be an overachiever and to strive to be known in the world because “being anonymous is worse than being poor,” she’s lambasted by her peers for being talented, for being different. She posts daily MySpace videos of herself singing in her bedroom, all of which receive comments from her peers basically suggesting she should kill herself (cyberbullying that would probably destroy someone with less self-confidence). She also often has things thrown at her, because for as much of a type-A personality as she is, Rachel is, in fact, on her own. She might be a little cocky and a little dogged in her quest to be special, as evidenced by her claim that the former glee club director molested the boy he gave Rachel’s solo to, but there is something in her that deserves to be recognized for who she is. And there is a tremendous sadness in the fact that no one sees her specialness but her . . . and her two gay dads.

Glee: what this show will be filling me with Wednesday nights at 9 in the fall.

Glee: what this show will be filling me with Wednesday nights at 9 in the fall.

So with the former glee club director out of the picture and the club in danger of being shut down, Matthew Morrison’s Spanish teacher Will Shuster decides he should take over. After all, Will sees that these kids need a place where they won’t be bullied, and where they can cultivate their talent. But as usual, the activities in which the popular kids reign get more funding, especially The Cheerios, the cheer team coached by Jane Lynch, which receives the bulk of the school’s budget because they keep winning national competitions and bringing the school a lot of press, which ultimately means more funding. So Will is allowed to operate glee club, recently renamed New Directions (which is weird for me, because that’s the name of a counseling center that a friend I know from high school theatre works for), on a $60 budget, which struck me as incredibly realistic given the dire nature of arts education in America, by which I mean, the lack thereof. But even that $60 budget eventually gets cut and Will is asked to run New Directions with his own $60, something that is, for him, very difficult because he lives off his teaching salary and his wife’s 12-hours-a-week job at Sheets and Stuff.

We meet a lot of characters over the course of this hour-long pilot, but even though there are some of the glee kids we don’t know all that well, I’d say that Jessalyn Gilsig’s Terri is the least well-drawn. Terri is obsessed with an idea of womanhood that allows her to contribute little to her marriage and spend all of her time crafting and decorating. She’s largely just a stand-in for the thing that’s holding Will back from what he really wants from life. But that said, I think Jessalyn Gilsig, as always, turns in a brilliant performance of very little material. I mean, this is a woman who nearly suffocated her own daughter in a cargo hold (on Heroes) and, more importantly, a woman who got fucked off a building (on Nip/Tuck). I am certainly not used to her playing someone demure, and she creates a sort of quiet insanity in Terri that makes her seem both utterly unreal and yet absolutely the kind of woman who thinks her life should be what she sees in magazines. She is deeply shallow, and I think there’s something exceptional about placing a character like that amongst so many other deeply real people. She’s a wonderful contrast.

[Husband Note: Gilsig also did wonders with the quite poorly written role of teacher Lauren “The Nun” Davis on Boston Public, as well an incredible job as the oblivious sister-in-law-party-girl-way-past-her-prime on Friday Night Lights. She’s not the best actor, but she’s a serviceable television performer, and that’s good enough for me.]

Because Terri won’t give Will an extra $60 a month to run glee club (as she’d rather spend it on trinkets from Pottery Barn and crafts), he tries to drum up more membership around the school, taking guidance counselor Emma’s (the lovely and talented Jayma Mays) advice to recruit a few popular kids into glee club, and the rest will follow. He tries to get a few Cheerios in the club, but Jane Lynch’s Sue refuses to give up her girls, setting up a rivalry between the glee kids and the cheerleaders that I’m sure will continue throughout the series. But then, by a stroke of luck, he catches football star Finn singing in the shower, and blackmails him into joining glee club by “planting” some weed from the Chronic Lady (the former glee club director’s new profession: dealing weed) in his locker and telling him that he can spend six weeks in detention (which Will is now running, unpaid, due to budget cuts) which will go on his permanent record, or he can join glee. There was a moment in this scene that I truly loved because it was very representative of how Glee likes to play with cliches from high school movies. Will tells Finn that if he chooses detention, it’ll stay on his permanent record and they’ll take away his football scholarship. Finn asks, incredulously, “I got a football scholarship? To where?” And because that’s just something Will said because he heard it in a movie, he continues on, “You could go places, son.”

With Finn in the club, Will takes New Directions to see the current national show choir champions, and Emma decides to chaperone, as Terri has already turned Will down for some crafting-related outing. Emma, who clearly likes Will, is something of a germaphobe, a trait Jayma Mays does not play up for comic effect, but rather allows into the open with a kind of reserved sadness. In addition to cleaning surfaces in the teacher’s lounge with disposable gloves before she eats off of them, she brings her own food, even to public events, ands he and Will have a conversation about the state of his marriage to Terri over a peanut butter sandwich prior to the choir concert. Over that sandwich, which he says he never gets to eat because Terri is allergic to nuts, he confesses that he’s not entirely happy with his marriage. There’s just something about his relationship with Terri that isn’t working, but he rationalizes that it’s okay because he does love her, and he does want to have children with her, even if they aren’t totally happy. If you want to know why they’re not happy, look at the scene in which Terri makes Will do a puzzle with her in her craft room while she tells him it’s important for him to have a creative outlet, while in the same breath telling him that she doesn’t want him to run glee club because they don’t make enough money with him teaching. She’d rather he be an accountant, the epitome of jobs that lack creativity.

The rival choir puts on a ridiculous performance of Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab,” which is stunningly choreographed and sounds great, but is obviously wildly inappropriate for a high school choir to sing and is incredibly funny if you absolutely don’t ever take your mind off of the lyrics. You just can’t do choreographed lifts when you’re singing a line like, “I’m gonna lose my baby / so I always keep a bottle near me.” (On the other hand, though, I think you absolutely can sing “I Kissed a Girl” for a glee club audition, because that’s just funny.) Clearly, a performance of that caliber is intimidating, but that’s not all of the problems facing New Directions. Finn’s teammates find out that he’s been lying to them about where he had to go when he missed practice. They are not pleased that he pretended his mom was having prostate surgery, and pelt him with paintballs. (“Chicks don’t have prostates. I looked it up.”) Finn eventually stands up to his football teammates when he finds that they’ve locked the wheelchair kid in a port-a-potty, telling them that, like Troy Bolton in High School Musical, he’s not going to choose between being a jock and being a singer. He’s going to do both. “Because you can’t win without me, and neither can they,” he snarls.

And when Terri announces that she’s pregnant, Will quits, following his wife’s suggestion to apply for a job at an accounting firm, leaving his newly formed club without a mentor. Emma tries to talk some sense into him, setting him up with a guidance appointment with her when she catches him filling out an accounting application at H.L. Mencken (oddly, named after a writer and literary critic for the Baltimore Sun who had some interesting ideas on elitism within social classes, rather than a traditional class or race-based social hierarchy . . . I must miss Lost a lot if I’m looking for these kind of references on other shows). Emma shows Will a video of the year the school’s glee club won nationals. It was 1993, and Will was in that choir. And he was happy. She asks him if providing money for his wife and child is really the same thing as providing them happiness, but being a man of his word, he heads off, presumably never to return.

Meanwhile, Rachel and Finn have taken over New Directions and have recruited the jazz band to help them stage their first performance, with Mercedes doing costumes, Rachel choreographing and Finn doing vocal arrangements. As Will heads down the eternal hallway, he hears them singing strains of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’,” another instance of perfect music choice. Not only does it serve as a ballad for these kids who just want to believe they’re good at something, but for soloists Finn and Rachel, those opening lines serve as portraits of themselves. Never before have I been teary-eyed hearing someone sing, “Just a small town girl / Living in a lonely world” or the phrase “S/he took the midnight train goin’ anywhere” until last night. They took that song, and made it transcendent – enough to make me believe in the beauty, sadness, humor and joy of this little show and enough to convince Will not to leave, but to remain with New Directions.

This is a show about lonely, sad people, trying to find something that actually makes them happy, and you’d be hard pressed to find someone who isn’t made happy by music. So even for those of you who don’t really like or get musicals, know that Glee is simply about people trying to find happiness, and that happiness is achieved through music. I also take that last song as something of a plea to those of us who watched Glee and everyone at FOX, executives who clearly believe in taking a risk like this enough to promote it now and schedule it for Wednesdays at 9 p.m. throughout next season, picking up on SYTYCD results shows and Idol results shows as a built-in audience. FOX wants us to believe in Glee, and I do. Your Journey-infused plea has not fallen on deaf ears, Ryan Murphy.

I believe, I believe, I believe. Oh, I believe.

Some other notes:

  • “I’m Beyonce! I aint’s no Kelly Rowland.” – Really, Mercedes? Because you seemed so happy to be asked to do costumes later in the episode. Are you sure you don’t want to host The Fashion Show on Bravo?
  • For as much of a monster as I think Jessalyn Gilsig’s Terri is, she’s really funny. Two winners from her: “If my diabetes comes back I can’t get pregnant” and “Don’t go in the Christmas Closet!”
  • I’m told the first episode aired in the fall will be a re-edited pilot. My first edit: eliminating the references to MySpace and replacing it with something more culturally relevant. Like the word, “Facebook.” Or maybe even “YouTube” in some cases.
  • Spring Awakening fans, that last line was for you.


The Husband:

I honestly thought we were going to wait to review this show until the fall, but as it stands, here it is.

I’m sure I’m not the first person to find many parallels, mostly in tone and narration, between Glee and Alexander Payne’s biting 1999 high school satire Election. Not only do we get some wonderfully insightful yet overly self-centered internal monologues from our main characters at only the most opportune times, and also revel in both the show’s insistence on clichés and its subversion of them, but Cory Montheith, the actor who plays Finn, bears a striking resemblance to a young Chris Klein. (You know, before Chris Klein started sucking.)

This is quite a show, just from the pilot, what with its heightened emotions, its parody of high school affectations, its very focused jokes and, of course, the usage of Journey. True, there were some considerable lulls, and I thought the Finn transformation happened way too early, but there is definitely something special about this show. A dramedy of the highest order, I hope it helps brings even more respect to the musical form.

And on that, some might argue this isn’t a musical. Yes it is. It’s just not a “traditional musical.” People don’t have to break out into song, but simply have the music define much of the piece itself. And Ryan Murphy, as my wife pointed out, is very specific about his song choices, so “Don’t Stop Believin’” as sung by Finn and Rachel, knowing what we know about them, defines who they are, amplifies their backstory, and fits perfectly into this world. Sounds like a musical to me. Definitely as much of a musical as Cabaret.

The Wife:

Because there was no Lost last night, I get to give you two times your usual Thursday dose of modeling show recaps! Hooray!

This week’s photo challenge on Make Me a Supermodel was all about recreating the atmosphere of the 1960’s, particularly in the context of one of Andy Warhol’s factory parties. The very concept of the Roxanne Lowit shoot befuddled Mennonite Salome because, when given Yves St. Laurent, Andy Warhol and Madonna as connecting threads in their pre-shoot clue (as in, Roxanne Lowit has photographed all of those people), she was only familiar with Madonna. For some reason, this made Laury think she was fake, although I don’t know why. I’ll allow Salome’s cloistered and religious upbringing to excuse her from the knowledge of certain things, depending on what they are. I believe that she knows who Madonna is only because she’s in the tabloids constantly and her name is rather ubiquitous. I believe that she doesn’t know who Andy Warhol is because she’s had no exposure to pop art in her upbringing. However, I am deeply concerned that someone who wants to be a professional model doesn’t know who Yves St. Laurent was. Not only did he change the face of women’s fashion in the last century, but his name was mentioned on the show only a few episodes ago as the inspiration for the skinny suits in the gender-bending catwalk challenge.

Kathryn, an ANTM hopeful with a pen collection who didn’t end up making the show, was grilled by Tyra in the casting special about her fashion industry knowledge. The girl couldn’t name any other working models than Agyness Deyn, but she could name a grip of designers. I think it’s fair to assume that someone going into a profession – any profession – has done some cursory research on big names in the industry and their contributions to the field. And I certainly expect a model, whatever her background may have been, to enter into the modeling industry with knowledge of that industry. I certainly don’t expect Salome to know designers and labels like Rodarthe, Rag & Bone, Philip Lim or Jason Wu. I do, however, expect her to know names like Yves St. Laurent, Roberto Cavalli, Givenchy, Diane Von Fustenberg and Dolce & Gabbana. Those are big name brands with a legacy, and those are names she should know cold. And while I wouldn’t expect Salome to know a whole catalogue of working models popular today, I’d at least expect her to know names of greats that came before her. I expect her to know Tyra and Naomi and Kathy Ireland and Heidi Klum and Paulina Porizkova and Petra Nemcova and Christy Turlington and, most especially, Twiggy. When she said she didn’t know who Twiggy was, I grew deeply concerned for her and her place in this competition. She may have a lot of natural talent, but that girl needs to do some damn research. It’s like she’s trying to be a chef without knowing who Escoffier or Julia Child are.

But I thought a martini was just water and olive juice!

But I thought a martini was just water and olive juice!


At the shoot, Tyson revealed this week would have a double elimination, and then set about pairing the models up for their photos. Branden paired up with Sandhurst, choosing to once again state that he is not at all gay and just chose Sandhurst because he’s a strong model. Jonathan selected Jordan, while Colin selected Kerryn and I hoped that their shoot would end in a hook-up. Mountaha chose Salome, and Amanda, whom everyone hates for some reason, ended up with Laury.

  • Jonathan and Jordin: They were the most natural in this shoot, just hanging out and partying, looking like they were having a grand ol’ time. She looked totally fabulous and their final shot was the best of the bunch.
  • Salome and Mountaha: They turned out a good shot, looking like floozies on Mad Men, which was totally the point. Mountaha looked the most like Twiggy and really drew my eye in the shot, but Salome looked like she wasn’t posing at all, and ended up capturing a moment where her eyes were half-closed in a laugh that was pretty magical.
  • Braden and Sandhurst: The photo they turned out was fine, but Rebecca Weinberg’s styling for them did not fit the 60s theme of the shoot at all. They looked like two dudes posing for a Men’s Warehouse catalog, and that was certainly not the intent. I just don’t understand the editorial decisions that went into this shot at all, even if both men were good in it.
  • Kerryn and Colin: For two people with a lot of sexual chemistry with one another, this shoot was a complete dud. First of all, the makeup artist didn’t put nearly enough makeup on Kerryn, making her look blank and completely expressionless. Secondly, while Colin tried to deliver during his shoot, Kerryn never got comfortable or close enough to him to make the shot work. Eventually, they ended up doing a dancefloor shot with him in the air. It turned out better than I thought it would, despite Colin’s extreme toothiness in the eventual photo.
  • Laury and Amanda: I had another styling issue with the dress Laury was in, which didn’t look 60s at all. It was more like something you’d see a little girl wear now. Amanda, on the other hand, looked like a recording artist from that era, in her amazing black fringed dress and her very, very large bouffant hairdo. She looked gorgeous, and totally stole the final shot from Laury. Their whole pairing actually made me think of Hairspray, like Amanda was standing up for her black friend and protecting her in a largely white club.


Cory Bautista awarded Salome with the win, and she rightly chose her partner Mountaha to go with her to a go-see for Elie Tahari. Mountaha was disappointed that she didn’t win, citing the fact that she really deserves the credit for that shot because, “I spent, like a half hour before the shoot explaining to [Salome] what the 60s were about.” Neither girl ended up booking the job. Salome had the right look, but was too green for a polished show, while Mountaha looked too edgy. On the other hand, Jordan went that night to the job she booked as a showroom model for People’s Revolution and totally impressed stylist Masha Orlov, who loved Jordan’s ability to be a likeable clotheshanger.

Sexy, sexy likeable clotheshangers, that is.

Sexy, sexy likeable clotheshangers, that is.

This week’s Catwalk Challenge asked the models to participate in an avant-garde fashion show for the House of Diehl, a group of designers that prepare runway-ready outfits from found materials in under four minutes. I’m totally fascinated by this “design wars” concept and I think it was a great addition to an episode framed by Warhol’s factory parties. It reminds me of the sort of impromptu drag shows featured in Paris Is Burning, combined with site-specific performance art. I can’t even truly describe some of the things the models had to wear, but I can tell you that Amanda lucked out with the most amazing and couture-like dress made from God knows what, while Laury was covered in garbage bags and Sandhurst was outfitted in a magician’s costume made out of blankets. Actually, that outfit combined with his super crazy runway walk made him look like he was playing Caliban in some super low-rent production of The Tempest. Colin, on the other hand, was dressed like a combination of Shredder, the Dalai Lama and an inmate in California’s prison system. And it was kind of sexy. What a fucking zany runway show. Zany, I tell you!

Seriously, what the fuck is going on here?

Seriously, what the fuck is going on here?


Sandhurst, Salome, Jordan, Kerryn, Colin, Amanda and Laury were called forward as the best and worst of the week. Salome was awarded the win and given immunity because of her very professional runway stance in a dress made out of coffee filters (à la Kit Pistol), and Kerryn and Laury were sent home. It was a bad week for names with “y”s in them, and while Kerryn went out tearfully (because now she can’t molest Colin anymore), Laury got a stank-bitch attitude and refused to hug Salome when the little Mennonite girl tried to give her a goodbye squeeze. She then told Salome that she thinks she’s two-faced and fake, saying things about people behind their backs or some other completely paranoid bullshit. I mean, Salome says some weird shit sometimes, but it’s mostly just self-deprecating. I mean, she did call Jordan a bitch behind her back on the way home from the go-see because Jordan had booked a job, but that was meant playfully and there’s no way Laury could have known about that. Salome is weird, and she doesn’t know who Twiggy is, but that doesn’t mean she’s fake or two-faced. It mostly just means she isn’t culturally aware. It also means she doesn’t deserve at all of your stank-bitch ire. Have fun not getting jobs because of your stank-bitch attitude, Laury! Maybe you can do porn like the stank-bitch who was eliminated on Top Model this week. Or you can be friends with another stank-bitch reality contestant, Lil Rounds. Either way, have fun!

I call this collage "StankBitchFace"

I call this collage "StankBitchFace"

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