Trivia NYC/DSO Media

(1. Yes, I’m recapping America’s Most Smartest Model. I could do this for your show or event if you’d like. I’d like.)
(2. This week’s title is courtesy of Ron White, aka the only one of the Blue-Collar Comedy fraternity who is actually genuinely funny.)

Episode Six opens with only one rank moron left in the house. Torso Rachel has miraculously so far managed to escape the clutches of the hook, and even in the birthday-candle flicker that is her mind, she understands she’s been kind of lucky. “I am so fucking happy I’m still here! I am so happy!” She exults, dancing around the kitchen like she’s won something already. (”Mary Alice gave me some advice that was, you need to step it up in the smarts department, so it would be in your best interests to pick someone who is smart. Which my immediate thought was, Daniel. And he’s going to partner up with me no matter what.”)

Cut back to the kitchen, right after the purge from last episode, where everyone is debating the relative difficulty of the Smart-Off that eliminated Lisa almost by accident, and El Torso Grande has only one thing on her mind. (If she has ever had more than one thing on her mind, that extra few molecules of mental activity would be a burden her stick-twig body might not be able to handle, so as uncomfortable as this is, it’s just as well.) “You are my partner next time, okay?” She says to Daniel, who’s ignoring her. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.” “I don’t know, but You Are My Partner,” she says, with finality.

Back to the camera: “I may not be the best partner for Daniel, but Daniel is the best partner for me!” She smiles, and her uneven cheek muscles make her head slide a little to the left. Careful, there, sport. Just because you’re not using that noggin doesn’t mean you can just let it roll away. This is actually the best strategy she’s had all game. Maybe all these nights of VJ the Veasel rubbing off on her is starting to, well, rub off on her.

In Andre’s Lair Of The Vanquished, he adds Lisa’s name card to his mirror. “Eight people left, and … whew! I am so close to winning one hundred… thousand dollars!” He laughs maniacally, touching his pinky to his lips. Yeah, you know nothing about American culture, uh, bro. Right.

I hate the cheap moon/L.A skyline crossfade transition they’ve used thirty-seven times per episode so far, and I’m convinced they’re putting it in in extra places just to piss me off. (That’s right. They’re inflicting this show on me. You-all are just collateral damage. Sorry. But the sun comes up, it’s Tuesday morning, and Pickel gets reading duty this morning, which he dives into with gusto.

Good Morning, Models!
Designers often refer to their clothes by using words like “lines” and “shapes.” Today it will be your turn. Divide yourselves into teams of two, and be out front in an hour. Be there, or be square.
Love, Mary Alice.

Torso Rachel is, of course, unclear about this. “Do we have to know our squares and rectanglers and circles and stuff?” Angela, the know-it-all, is sitting beside her on the couch and leans into her, stage whispering “Sounds like geometry.”

They pick teams quickly. Andre & Angela had apparently decided they’d be partners earlier. (Angela understates: “Andre’s a smart guy, so I’m not too worried about that aspect of it, but I’m a little concerned because he just kind of does what he wants to do, and doesn’t like to take advice from other people.”) Brett & Pickel are friends till the end, and Aussie Rachael draws Veasel-J. Daniel decides to go along with partnering with Torso Rachel, though the series of agonizing looks he gives before agreeing is clearly some kind of foreshadowing. (Rachel: “Part of me thinks that I might bring Daniel down. But I don’t really care! I need Daniel to save my ass today!”)

Daniel explains to Brett & Pickel in the kitchen his though process over a third of an orange: “I could have told Rachel no, but … if Mary Alice says ‘You’re stupid that you did this,’ then I’ll be like, ‘Well, that’s not the way I’m gonna win. I’m not gonna win by just picking the best partner.”

(Actually, that’s the only way you’ll win, Daniel. Did the shampoo guy’s speech from last week about Lie-cheat-whatever-I-don’t-care-about-anything-but-the-finished-product get through to you at all? This is why nice guys finish last. I’m not saying Daniel is next to be eliminated, but this is not the attitude to have if he’s really interested in the hundred grand. VJ will walk all over him like a gumboot on a turd if it comes down to it, either in the house or out in the real world, where the real money is.)

I’m not impressed, but Brett & Pickel, each eating a third of an orange, nod & thank him for taking one for the team this week, at least to his face. (Brett: “When Daniel agrees to pair up with Rachel, I’m thinking, bad move, buddy. I know he’s a nice guy and stuff, but you can’t pair up with the weakest link at this point.”)

With that, off they go in the short buses to the Cal State campus, where Ben Stein & Mary Alice Stephenson are waiting in a classroom. Ben starts. “Hello, models! Today’s Edge Challenge involves my absolute least favorite high school subject, Geometry. You are going to fashion an outfit from one person on your team using only six geometric shapes.” They pan back to reveal a blackboard with six shapes described on it: A rhombus, a trapezoid, a pentagon, a circle, an isoceles triangle, and a rectangle, each with a specific size requirement. Mary Alice appears in the shot, in a dress that makes her look oddly lumpy, swaying back and forth as if there’s an earthquake only she can feel. “And here to help grade your geometry skills… is… Santino Rice!”

And into the classroom with a wave and a grin bounds Santino from Project Runway. I never watched a minute of that show, but I’ve heard of this guy. Clearly, he must be down on his luck if he’s making cameo appearances on lesser fashion-based reality shows. Or maybe he designed whatever Mary Alice is wearing, and his appearance fee for this is her way of repaying him, or his way of apologizing.

I kinda hope he’s a real dick.

Pickel is stoked, because he thinks Santino makes “killer shit.” Ben, to Santino: “You look very stylish yourself. I think my grandfather looked like this when he came from Ellis Island.” Santino cackles. “Santino postulated in his wisdom that you could design an entire outfit with the six geometric shapes on this board.” (to the camera: “…and I have to wonder: if you can’t do this, what can you do?”)

This next paragraph sounds like it was recorded in at least two different rooms, and the jump edits between Ben mouthing the words and the models looking bored doesn’t help with the continuity, but to be fair, it is a lot to recite all at once: “The shapes must be cut to the exact measurements specified on the board. Each team member is responsible for three of the shapes. The second team member may not begin working until the first team member has successfully cut out his or her three shapes.”

Mary Alice suddenly wakes up and realizes where she is. “The winning team will get Santino’s help for 30 minutes. And since he designed this challenge, those 30 minutes will be crucial.” She leans her head back, exhausted at the effort of speaking clearly. I know, honey. I know.

Each team picks who of the pair is going first (Brett & Pickel rock-paper-scissors for it), and they all grab a table covered with pencils, rulers, erasers, strings, tape and sheets of large paper. Santino then counts them down, and they start cutting & marking.

Andre is perplexed by the rulers that measure in inches. Angela is heckling him. “Come on, Andre, you’ll have to speed it up, dawg.” She whispers to Daniel about how she’d have been done already. Daniel nods sadly, the two mental sluggers sitting on the bench waiting out a rain delay. He looks at his partner, who has yet to make any cuts. Daniel’s trying to encourage her, but she’s starting to panic, which let’s face it isn’t good for anyone.

Santino: “Watching some of the models and their work really made my brain hurt. It’s like, thank god they’re good looking, because if they didn’t have that going for them, they’d be like a fucking rock.”

Aussie Rachael is the first to finish three shapes, and Santino declares her work to be accurate. Veasel-J crows to the camera about having picked the best partner, and off he runs to start on the other three shapes. Brett finishes right afterward, and it’s a horse race between Pickel and the Veasel. Andre is baffled by the Capitalist Bourgeois Pigdog Numbering Systems on the Gutter American Imperialist Measuring Devices, while Torso Rachel is sitting in a lump on her chair, unable to make even a basic rectangle. You can tell she wants to cry. In a two-shot, Daniel, stuck at the far end of the room, looks weepy with rage too. “I can’t handle this. I can’t… handle this.”

The circle, as a shape, clearly is beyond Andre’s experience. (Circles are female, you know. It’s possible that his inability to make a circle is him denying his essential femaleness. Or maybe he’s just afreud of what circles might bring out in him.)

(Afraid. Afraid. Why did I say Afreud? Dear Subconscious: What are you trying to tell me?)

Angela explains how to use the string to make a perfect circle, and the Veasel, who was stuck on it himself, copies her instructions down and does them himself, which only drives Angela further toward apoplexy.

On the other hand, Andre is rocking this compared to Torso Rachel, for whom they’re cutting down hundreds of acres of old growth in the Amazon Basin just to make more paper for her to draw half-assed non-circles on. Daniel isn’t even looking at her anymore, content to bury his face in his hands and hum his favorite pieces from Brigadoon just to keep himself from throwing another hissy fit. “Oh, my god!” she says angrily, her back to the camera, after which they (very obviously) dub in the phrase “I am dumb…” in a jarring sad whimper that sounds nothing like Rachel. In fact…

…it sounds an awful lot like a spare sound clip from the long-departed Mandy Lynn.

(I get the feeling that they didn’t get nearly enough footage of this challenge, and so they had to reconstruct much of this afterward. I know how much of a shock that is, but I have to say, it’s a lot sloppier this week than usual. They’re not even trying. A second boom mike wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world, and who cares if it gets in the occasional shot.)

Daniel’s veneer of nice has evaporated. “I thought this was so elementary that Rachel would know how to draw some shapes,” he spits to the camera. “But I realize that she didn’t know what she was doing. She’s just, like, retarded.” (Oh, Daniel. You just noticed this now?) He turns to Aussie Rachael, who’s finished her part, picking at the food along the back wall, “Why couldn’t she tell me she didn’t know how to do anything?” Rachael pops a grape in her mouth and doesn’t even acknowledge him. Shut Up, Daniel.

Pickel and Veasel-J are neck and neck, with VJ down to the pentagon and Pickel down to the circle. VJ narrowly finishes first, and Santino tells everyone to stop while he checks the Veasel’s work. Santino runs the tape measure and the protractor around the various shapes, and he finally says, “I can tell you that one of them is incorrect, so guys, keep working.” Silence switches back to frantic activity, with Brett shouting at Pickel, “What’s that four-letter word that starts with D? Come on! What is it?”

“Done! Done done done!” Pickel yells, and after Santino comes over to confirm it, Brett & Pickel have won the challenge. (You know, they may be total brosephs, but they’re not bad guys.)

The pressure of the show is starting to grow on the rest of the group. VJ is pissed, slamming the pencils off the table in disgust. Daniel is trying very hard to keep his voice level while he tries to explain to Rachel how stupid she is. Unfortunately, he’s only working himself into a lather. “This wasn’t a team challenge. It wasn’t a team! You couldn’t communicate with one another!”

Pickel, cleaning up his workspace, cuts him off. “No, no, no. You guys have all won challenges. I don’t remember you guys complaining when you won.” (”Daniel loves to win, but when he doesn’t win, out comes the excuse book.”)

Daniel’s voice keeps rising, for some reason. “I didn’t understand what the premise of the whole damn game was! I don’t think that’s fair! When you play a game you should understand the rules of the game! They should explain what the clarity of all the rules of the game are!”

Andre, Voice Of A Generation: “Daniel! Shut up, dude! No more!”

* * *

To be fair to Daniel, we know that Ben Stein did not read the rules in the room as we heard them on the show. It’s very possible that the rules they were given were actually quite vague, and they overdubbed him reading a more detailed version later to make Daniel look bad.

But he’s not helping his own cause here. He has been ranting all through the commercial break, and everyone in the room is just ignoring him until he calms down again. Torso Rachel, his chosen partner and the reason they finished dead last, is the one who finally gets through to him: “Daniel, you’re getting yourself upset for no reason. We’re already fucked, so we have to work with what we got.”

As winners of the Edge Challenge, Brett & Pickel get to use all six shapes in creating an outfit that one of them is going to model, and they get the help of Santino in the design and execution of that design, which is great. But the final twist (See? It’s possible that the rules were not explained very well at all, and Daniel, annoying as he is, would have a point) is that the winning team gets to decide which of the shapes the other three teams get to use in their (unassisted) designs: three to one team, two to another, and one to the third.

VJ, to the camera: “I might be screwed on this one.” Seriously, his eyes are dead. There’s no light in them, and nothing going on behind them. It really is creepy how dead he looks.

Pickel makes up something about the Veasel liking pizza, and so they bring him & Aussie Rachael just the circle: “The circle we think is the hardest one to work with. Love Rachael, but VJ, the little snaky son of a bitch, we gotta bring him down.”

They decide to be nice to Daniel & Torso Rachael and give them three shapes, and Angela and Andre get the other two. Everyone gets three hours so Mary Alice can drink the edges off this afternoon.

Sorry. Everyone gets three hours to design and make their outfits for later. Even with a couple of sewing interns to help out, that’s not a lot of time.

They spring into action. A rack of textile samples is brought in, and everyone dives for the pieces they like. Andre picks up the sewing table and brings it over to his & Angela’s station. Angela, in case I haven’t mentioned it before, is a know-it-all: “Andre is lucky to have me as a partner, because my mom designs clothes. So, I have that already in my blood.” Now, I would think, oh, being a circus acrobat is the kind of thing that could be genetically passed down. NBA Center, maybe. Frogman. Mobile Home Dweller. Human Hair Donor. These are things that can be passed down from generation to generation. Clothing design? That’s an apprenticeship, not genetics. But, hey, sure.

Santino comes over to Pickel & Brett, who are real happy to see him. Brett: “See, here’s the thing. We’re not girls. Have you thought about that at all?” Brett, is this about the fact that sewing a pair of slacks would take way too long, or are you trying to seduce Santino? They decide on a Roman-style tunic design, and good-naturedly get to work.

Their conversation is interrupted by Angela and Andre’s voices rising across the room. “It’s not working!” “Just listen to me, and pay attention! I sew, okay?” Andre, amazingly, backs off, giving her all the rope she needs to hang herself. The two sewing interns smile transparently, deaf to all except the clinking sound of their appearance fees.

Torso Rachel and Shut Up Daniel aren’t fighting as loudly, but they’re moving a lot slower. Rachel keeps dismissing ideas, which, considering they have no help at all, isn’t a good idea, unless she wants to parade butt-ass nekkid on the catwalk tonight, just two silicone volleyballs glued to a bright yellow mop handle.

They cobble something together out of one swatch of fabric repeated a few times. Rachel misuses the first person plural where the first person singular would have been correct: “We may have bombed on those shapes, but as I’m looking around at the other outfits, I wouldn’t wear any of them, except for the one… that I’m wearing.” She smiles as if her Mr. Potato Head mouth was put on sideways.

It’s true, though. The other designs look just… weird. Andre is trying to wedge Angela into the dress she designed. He starts to get in her head: “What’s the matter with your fucking tits? They’re big now? What, you’re on your period?” Take it from me, the ladies love to hear stuff like that coming from a dude while she’s trying on an outfit that’s just a bit too small, and under a time constraint, no less.

We see glimpses of the other outfits (Aussie Rachael’s wearing a weird black-and-white checkerboard thing that (may I say) doesn’t look very circular at all, and Pickel is trying on hoods that would match some kind of dark magenta thing), before Mary Alice, her shine back on, comes back in and gives everyone 5 minutes to finish up, get out of the clothes, and get them on the rack for transport back to the ranch. A few token shots of Torso Rachel sitting naked on the floor trying to get the outfit off (”Hurry! My ass is cold!”) and we’re done. Well, Veasel-J & Aussie Rachael’s isn’t finished, but well, it is what it is.

Brett, Pickel and Andre are alone in one of the short buses going back. They all goof on Daniel’s whinefest earlier. Andre takes the mocking and brings it to Andreland: “Honestly, if we continue to mess with him, we gonna demoralize him and he’s gonna lose the faith in himself. I know who’s going down tomorrow. Daniel on the chopping block!” Even as Brett acknowledges that that’s a bit much, he can’t stop laughing at the idea of breaking the spirit of Shut Up Daniel.

When they get back to the house, Andre sneaks upstairs and starts rifling through everyone’s stuff, looking for Daniel’s and Rachel’s Nametags for his Wall Of The Vanquished. He’s convinced that those are the next two to go, and despite the fact that Daniel is truly the smartest person in the house, he may be right. “I’m like the grim reaper!” He cackles.

* * *

Oh, my god. They’re recruiting for Season Two of AMSM. For anything I may have done that caused that to happen, no matter how inconsequential, I am so sorry, Planet Earth.

That said, anyone wanna try to get on? I’d consider it. I think I’m as good looking as Jesse, anyway, if maybe slightly less gay. Leave a comment if you post an application, even in jest. I’d love to track that stuff.

* * *

Back at the house, Mary Alice chimes through a VO5 ad about how all the models are very lucky to have VO5 help them to build hairstyles around their outfits. “It’s very very important to have a complete look going as well.” Mary Alice calls in another favor chit by introducing Erin Anderson, who’s done the hair of every C-list actor who’s ever wound up in the back pages of Vanity Fair or Maxim, and who herself has blotchy overtanned skin and three-tone bedhead.

(I’m not saying Erin Anderson doesn’t know what she’s doing. No doubt she’s every bit the expert Mary Alice said she was. I’m just saying it looks like they called her while she was sunbathing in her back yard and offered her 500 bucks to come down and crank out eight more heads on her day off.)

She gets to work, hearing about what the outfits look like and suggesting different looks from what the models are currently sporting.

Andre pulls one of the makeup assistants aside and says, “If you make her makeup really really ugly, I’ll give you a hundred dollars.”

She waits a beat too long before yelling “No!”

“Two hundred dollars?”

A long pause; she’s wandered off. Then, from 20 feet away, “A thousand.”

“A thousand.” Then to Angela, in the hair chair: “Wanna go half?” Angela merely looks up at him like he just lost his goddamned mind.

Mary Alice returns with another friend, Marilyn Heston of MHA Media, “pretty much the celebrity fashion PR house here in Los Angeles,” a media & publicity house so well-established they don’t seem to have a website of their own at the moment, and her last IMDb entry as a publicist is eleven years ago. Hm.

Still (and again), I have no doubt she knows what she’s doing. And she’s here to judge the fashion show, in which one model will walk the runway in the design they made earlier while the other one reads a commentary description of what the design is all about. (Again, a new twist introduced after the fact.)

Andre, now stuck as a narrator, is concerned. “I’m definitely having problems, because I can barely speak proper English!”

Upstairs they go to clean up the pieces as best they can and write little scripts to accompany each of the pieces. Daniel puts a spiel together that sounds pretty credible, but I can’t stop staring at his hair. They straightened it and buffed it out, and now he looks like Peter Pan, or maybe Jo Ann Worley.

Pickel is taping Brett’s feet for his role as some kind of prizefighting gladiator type. “Fighters do this shit, that’s how it goes.” Brett laughs, “I’m a model, bro, not a fighter!” “You are today.” “Right, you’re right, you’re right.” They’re clearly having a good time, which is only going to help.

Meanwhile, in the Stress Hall, Andre is teaching Angela how to walk. She’s putting too much hip action into her dress, which is all downward-facing triangles with a belt at the waist. She’s working the kinks out, but of course, Andre’s compliments only come in the form of lesser insults.

Veasel-J is trying to cram Aussie Rachael back into their half-done checkerboard dress. Again, I have to say it. Checkerboards are not circles. That’s all. They made it a little bit too small, and the zipper won’t zip up. They’re in the bathroom, smearing her with cold cream, doing whatever they have to do to get the thing on her and make it look presentable.

The fashion show begins. Aussie Rachael and VJ go first. Rachael is going to try and do the entire thing without breathing, because that’s how precariously it’s stuck to her. As she comes out, we see the dress full-on for the first time. To call it ugly is an understatement. (Torso Rachel of all people said it best: “She looks like a mermaid wrapped in a kitchen floor.”) It’s a full-length black-and-white skirt with squares cut out where the saddlebags would be on anyone less fit than Rachael (so, anyone), and just a black bra on top. Rachael does her best to sell it, but it looks sloppy.

Shut Up Daniel and Torso Rachel are next. Daniel: “I feel like we have a strong outfit. I think that ours is the most practical, usable, wearable outfit of all the outfits.”

His spiel: Rachel’s outfit is a retro-80’s inspired bright pink halter top cinched with a sheer black waist belt.” Helpfully, the tape pauses a moment here while they point out the geometric shapes in her dress, or at least the trapezoid and the pentagon across the front. In case you still weren’t clear about what shapes were. “The halter strap is made from elastic material, and it is accentuated with metallic cubes. And best of all, the entire outfit is made from breathable cotton, ensuring maximum comfort and style whether casually walking down the street or dancing the night away while attending the hottest celebrity hotspots.”

I have to say, the dress is very pink, and very short. But it wound up looking okay.

Mary Alice (who also got new hair again, so that was nine heads for Erin on day off, at least) stops them before they go. “So, tell me what happened yesterday, Rachel.”

“I was having difficulty cutting the shapes.”

“So, what were the shapes given to you by Brett and Pickel?”

Daniel cuts in. “We had the rhombus, the –”

Mary Alice cuts him off. “Daniel, I’m asking Rachel. Go ahead.”

“The rommus, the trapezoid, the…”

“The rommus? … It’s rhombus.”

“Rhombus?”

“Rhombus.”

“Rhombus?”

“Rhombus.”

“Rhombus?”

(Angela: “Rachel’s just an idiot, and she had no idea what she was doing.”)

The rest of the models are watching this on a monitor outside the room. This is so not good.

Rachel continues. “The rhombus, trapezoid, and … the quadrid?”

Daniel winces at the mike. To the camera: “They were trying to catch Rachel in all of her … dumbness. And she was giving them the ammunition.”

Cut back to the Torso laughing the hyena-laugh of the Prey Who Do Not Know They Are Prey. Andre: “Stupid Rachel. Falling apart before my eyes. It’s making me feel so happy. They’re going down. That’s it. And I love it.”

* * *

“…The rhombus, trapezoid, and … the quadrid?”

Daniel: “I couldn’t believe that Rachel was still forgetting the shapes. We had discussed it before.”

“Can I say it?” He asks Ben & Mary Alice, trying to save the Torso from herself. “The pentagon.”

Rachel’s face brightens. “The pentagon!” Then she shrugs. She has no idea.

They’re finally, mercifully, excused. Andre & Angela are up next. She looks like an extra in a Grace Jones video.

Andre’s spiel: “This design was constructed from two distinct shapes: the triangle and the rectangle.” (Pause the tape while the telestrator comes out. Ding! Triangle. Ding! Another triangle! Ding! A rectangle!) “It is a simple yet classic design that can be worn for any occasion. In this way, we bring together an entire elegance of the finished product.”

Ben stops them this time. “Let me ask you a question, Comrade. Did you say this was an outfit that could be worn anywhere?”

“I would like to think so, yes, sir.”

“Do you think, for example, that it could be worn to a PTA meeting?” (Angela, the one actually wearing the dress, smirks at this. She sees where Ben’s going with this.)

“You could wear anything anywhere you want. We’re models.”

“You think it could be worn to a meeting of the G8 with Mr. Putin?”

“Yes. Anywhere.”

“You think Mr. Putin would approve?”

“Oh yeah. If I approve, he will.”

Mary Alice is laughing too. “We love your confidence, Andre.”

Andre, unable to lie to the camera: “Hey it was a great design. It was a Soviet design. It was awesome… …Of course it was horrible. What can I say.”

In the hallway, Pickel is dressed like a boxing trainer, complete with towel and sweatsuit, spritzing down Brett the gladiator, with perfectly messed up hair and (thanks to makeup) a big ole black eye. They both proclaim great confidence in their outfit, and hit the catwalk, touching fists before assuming their positions.

“Brett is wearing a bold fire raging red cutoff fighter hoodie. The whole theme here is raw urban edginess.” Brett reaches the end of the catwalk, and throws a few jabs. They’re not good jabs, but at least it looks like he’s watched The Contender a few times. “Everything from the inside-out stitching to the multicolored seams contributes to our overall distressed look. The bold red color signifies intensity, while the black and white signify yin and yang, the balance of power and courage.”

I know they had help from Santino, but this is a pretty nice covering. You couldn’t wear this to a PTA meeting either, though given the recently released topless fishing photos of Vladimir Putin, the Russian Prime Minister looks to still be in good enough shape that he could bring this look off himself. So-vyuuuut!

Mary Alice: “So, Brett, could you please take off your robe. I’d like to see the underpinnings…. is that a skirt?”

Pickel makes something up. “Yeah, fighters sometimes wear skirts, like especially the Asian fighters. We weren’t going for boxing, we were going for Ultimate Fighting.” Nice save, bro. Though you did mention boxing in the spiel.

The explanation clears the panel, though, and they’re clear.

They go straight to the results. Torso Rachel is flipping out. Somewhere in that open birdcage of a mind, she knows she did herself no favors again today.

Angela and Andre are up first, and Ben starts with the critique. “I’ve been impressed with Angela from day one, but I do not get this outfit at all, and with all due respect to my comrade from the former Soviet Union, I don’t think it could be worn anywhere.” Marilyn, the guest judge: “Well, it’s a little too Dancing With The Stars for me, though I could see someone wearing this to the Grammys.” Mary Alice agrees, calling the outfit “a bit ice-skater. But that being said, your hair and makeup look fabulous, your hair looks incredible. Great job with that.”

(So wait. The whole charade at the school with the shapes and the grief and the Santino and the designing and the everything else was a waste of time, as long as the hired guns brought in to do hair & makeup did a good job? Is that what Mary Alice just decided? Maybe I’m not drinking enough.)

VJ and Rachael are next. Marilyn: “Okay. It’s not balanced in any way. There are cutouts, but they’re frivolous, I don’t understand them, and the bra top, I’m sorry, you ran out of fabric.”

Mary Alice: “VJ, I wanted to talk to you one second. Rachael is wearing basically an evening gown, and what are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a tee.”

“Exactly. You should have dressed up a little more.”

(Pickel: “We did stick them with that circle, and their dress was… ehhh. Brett & my strategy worked pretty well.”)

On to Torso Rachel. Marilyn thought the outfit was far too simple, calling it “bubblegum on a stick.”

Mary Alice: “So, Daniel, what was your role in creating this dress?”

“I decided to make it practical, to make it simple, to make it wearable, instead of to try and do some kind of haute couture in the time we had.”

“You’ve a little fashion designer in you, Daniel. Very well spoken.”

(Andre: “I think he wants to be in that pink dress more than Rachel does.” I don’t know, Andre. I’d wear it to the Grammys. I’d need to borrow the implants, but what the hell, you only live once.)

Finally, Brett’s not-boxer thing. Marilyn loves it unabashedly, from the black eye to sweat, the tan, the tape, the walk, the presentation, everything.

Torso Rachel is not impressed: “That outfit? The tranny boxer? [*thanks, potentato, for catching the typo.] Doesn’t make any sense to me. Bottom line? Those two girls like hot boys.” Takes one to know one, I guess. She then tries to shift her head back & forth, Latifah style, but her neck creaked really loudly as it lurched from side to side, and I found myself truly concerned she was going to break something.

Mary Alice congratulates everyone on their good job in the heavily constrained time frame (not to mention the shifting, made-up-on-the-fly rule changes, which she didn’t mention), but it was clear that Brett & Pickel took good advantage of their time with Santino, and won the Callback Challenge. Applause all around.

She continues. “Okay, guys. There’s been something that’s bothering me, and I cannot quite get it off my chest, and I think it’s time to do so now.” The music has shifted to ominous notes. Pretend I’m typing this with great foreboding and trepidation. “Rachel Myers, will you please step down.”

(”What the fuck did I do now? This can’t be good.”)

“Rachel, for the last few episodes, sweetie, you’ve been barely getting by. VJ carried you through the Puzzle Me Pretty photo shoot, you survived the Brain Binge because Mandy Lynn refused to eat the cake, in the Smart-Off you were saved by Lisa because she didn’t know my last name, and in this challenge you almost dragged down the smartest person in the house, which was Daniel. You couldn’t even correctly make one shape. Rachel, you are not model enough, and clearly you are not smart enough to be in this competition any longer, so would you pack your bags and leave the house now.”

Pickel: “That sucks, man. That sucks. No one saw that coming.” Yeah, in Opposite World, maybe. She was the last of the truly dead weight. It’s been at least the last three weeks where she was clearly the one who had to go, and like Mary Alice said, she was only saved because every week, someone else really messed up. It’s true I hated her, but I kind of enjoyed hating her. She was vain, shrill, obnoxious, fake as fake could be, and in a show full of people not long on intelligence, she was literally the dumbest one of all. She had better make her money now, because once her looks start to go (and they are starting to already), she doesn’t have a lot of other skills or abilities to fall back on.

VJ: “I feel sorry for Rachel because it ended that way. But, y’know, too bad. She & I got to really like each other, she’s a really sweet girl, we all saw it coming, just not this way.” Dead eyes, the whole speech. Two blank dots in the middle of a blank face. Not an iota of emotion anywhere near him. Hey, at least he’s free to weasel it right up now.

There’s only two women left against five guys now. No doubt that will only become more of a factor.

They run a sweet montage of Rachel’s greatest dumbnesses: Napoleon’s last name was “Pierre,” JFK’s assassin was “Brad,” her fractured “it makes my perfect body …even perfecter!” speech in the cold shower, her crazed vacant laugh while clinging to VJ, and we’re back in the present, with her in the driveway watching the door close, still in her bubblegum-on-a-stick minidress, waiting for the long unsponsored car ride back into town.

* * *

The Final Judgement scene still hasn’t happened yet. Everyone files in the same way they normally would, not really knowing if there’s going to be a second purge today, or what else could possibly happen. Andre is hoping against hope that Daniel gets purged. “Just get him the hell out of here. Get everyone out!”

Mary Alice (her hair swept hard off to one side, wearing a long see-through dress, she looks like something off an early Roxy Music album cover; it’s almost a straight up-yours to Angela’s earlier look) starts by asking if anyone agreed or disagreed with Rachel’s immediate ouster from the group. She’s asking for total honesty. There’s a long pause where no one says anything, and everyone’s looking at VJ. It’s his ball, and he either doesn’t know what to say, or doesn’t know what will curry the right kind of favor, but finally, he blurts out, “It is what it is,” which brings a few rolled eyes, but it’s enough for Mary Alice to let the matter drop.

Next, she turns to Brett and Pickel. “You two are a dynamic duo! You won the Edge Challenge, you won the Callback Challenge… Seriously, if it’s a strategy to take everyone out, you’re doing an incredible job. I mean, it was a stroke of genius that you gave your two competitors, probably the competition in this house, VJ and Rachael, one shape to create their dress.” I don’t know if I’d call it genius. It was merely prudent. Also, Mary Alice is seriously slurring her words. “That was a very very smart move, and VJ and Rachael you really had the worst dress today, so I’d like you both to step down.”

Rachael acknowledges that giving her & VJ just the circle was the right thing to do, and fair play to them for having the presence of mind to do it.

Mary Alice, on a roll, continuing: “Daniel, I need to know. Why did you pair up with Rachel? Why did you allow that?” Ben: “She just reached out and grabbed you! You didn’t have to do it!”

Daniel stammers to life. “Yeah, good question, but I feel like, when you’re in a team, you use teamwork, so that you can try to prove something good between the two of you.”

Mary Alice: “Daniel, I’m not so sure that was a smart choice. Please step down.” He steps past Andre, who can’t contain his glee.

Okay, so now that three new competitors (if the winner doesn’t come from this group, I’ll be frankly shocked) are all down on the block, Mary Alice, clearly working toward something here, continues. “Daniel, teaming up with Rachel clearly put you in real jeopardy in this competition.” Ben: “This show is America’s Most Smartest Model, not Americas Most Nicest Model.”

Daniel defends the dress they wound up making. “I thought it was a good dress, I thought it was a good look –”

Ben cuts him off. “Toches auf den tisch, my brother. Ass on the table,” Ben says, mixing Yiddish and German (I think). “you haven’t won anything since the science fair, and yet you’re super-smart! What’s going on?”

“I’m a very competitive person. I do want to win. However, I’m going to win with my integrity intact.”

Andre, making sweet, sweet heterosexual ass-love to the camera: “Shut the hell up. Take it like a man. Or, wait, wait, take it like a woman, because you are a fucking pussy.”

Mary Alice: “You think you’re smart enough to win this competition?”

Daniel: “I know I am. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

Mary Alice: “Then you better step it up. Please go join the other models.”

VJ and Rachael, left on the block, are both a little scared now. They exchange looks of bewildered fear, mirrored in the faces of Brett, Pickel and Angela 20 feet behind them.

Well, Veasel-J’s face is as blank as always. But Rachael is concerned, anyway.

* * *

With a couple of minutes left in the episode, we get some more proof that VJ was placed on the show specifically because he was a sneak who could talk his way into and out of things.

Mary Alice addresses him next. “VJ. I have to say that I’m actually quite surprised that you’ve come this far, because you have the least amount of modeling experience. You didn’t even have a book!”

Now, a book is one of the first things you get when you decide to try your hand at modeling. Jesse had a book. Hell, I was putting together a book, and I don’t generally feel all that comfortable having my picture taken, much less have a desire to make a living at it. If he talked his way onto the show despite not having a book, well, the casting people had to have seen this coming.

She continues. “I’m going to tell you why you’re still here. Because you actually have the biggest neck and breasts I’ve ever seen on a non-body builder, and it was either you or the fatso drama queen a couple of shows back. Maybe now that the special needs case with the bolt-ons is out of the house, you can share your wares with the other paying customers, and I hope I don’t have to draw you a picture.”

Well, not quite. Actually, she said, “Because you actually have a huge potential to be a model. Huge potential. You are savvy, you are calculating, you are playing this competition well.” But she was totally not looking him in the face at all.

At this point, Veasel pours on the schmaltz. “Having this title and having the victory in this competition really would change my life, you guys. It … I didn’t grow up with a lot of money. To have that come into my life would open the door of opportunities that would be endless for me.”

Wow. Even the great Eddie Haskell would be proud of that little speech, you manipulative shit. He gets sent back up the ramp.

That leaves Aussie Rachael alone at the bottom of the walk. She watched the Veasel spin that yarn out of whole cloth with an ever-increasing look of incredulity, and now she’s down here all by herself. I had her winning the whole thing. I’m officially bewildered. Pickel, who’s been having a thing with her (they cover it at the VH1 site, but have left it off the show), is visibly close to losing his shit.

“Rachael. I’m really surprised that you’re standing here before me.” Well, shit, that makes it unanimous. “You’re very pretty, you’re very smart, but there’s no hunger! You’re not tough enough for this! Are you tough enough to take this, Rachael? Because it’s gonna get a lot harder!”

Ben: “Look at Andre! That’s the face of a vicious competitor!” Andre hides his face, which makes everyone laugh, if only for a second.

“I think it’s really sweet that you’ve all become friends, but in the real world of modeling, it’s much more cut throat,” Mary Alice says, splitting the last word in two and slowing her speech down. We must be getting close to the point. “Only one of you, as VJ said, has the opportunity to win a life… changing …

…competition.”

So Ben brings it home. “Like the 101st Airborne at Bastone during the Battle of the Bulge, Rachael…” (One more time around at everyone’s face. Someone in the editing department has clearly been watching telenovelas with their notepad open. I’m impressed.) “…you have avoided being annihilated. You are safe. You may go back.” So no one else goes home this week.

They close with some footage of Veasel doing pushups on his fists and talking trash about how his fun time is over, and now everyone is his competitor, opponent and enemy. You know, I didn’t have him pegged for the watch-Patton-and-beat-off type, but maybe I had him wrong.

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