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Let’s hop back aboard USS Crazy, shall we? And who’s the captain? Of course, our friendly octogenarian zombie, Janice Dickinson. Why, might you ask, am I not the Captain? Well, I gave it up after I headed a little voyage called the Spanish Armada. Grew out of it, you know? Lacked enjoyment. Yeah, I’m old. So? I’m still awesome and still hear to bring you a recap straight from the Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency (both the agency and the show).
If you remember from last week, Janice Dickenson kicked Kehoe out because he rapes people. I mean, not for the raping people, but some comment he made to Crystal about cocaine as a joke. Close enough, right? Anyhow, the house is all abuzz, and Kehoe decides to do his hair before leaving the house. Why? Because he’s classy.
I’ll take my Dom Perignon to go.
Pierce, some model that we haven’t seen who looks like a rag doll, relays to Kehoe as he does his hair all the shit Janice is saying about the sanctity of her house and home. St. Janice Dickinson’s very holy, you know. She’s performed a lot of miracles. If, miracles= botox injections and strings of incoherent ramble. I still can’t believe Janice Dickinson ever got PAID to MODEL. Like, maybe in the dark ages? And by that I mean she’s old, and also historically speaking, there was also a lot of disease. And, I think the lights were out. Do I get my PhD now?
Kehoe, like the lame-ass douchebag that he is, fears another night sleeping in his car. Yeah, life is tough for you, isn’t it? Maybe you shouldnt’ve been such an annoying douche every second of the day to every person ever, and maybe you wouldn’t have to live in your ’89 Honda Civic. Serin, the very effective bodyguard, does his first bodyguard duty (besides wearing cutoff shirts that say “bodyguard” on them) in like, 2 seasons by escorting Kehoe out of the Model house. He yells, as he leaves, “I still love you, Janice.” How touching.
Drugs are bad! Just ask my gay, thirteen year old boyfriend.
J.P., Mr. “I try to underplay my homosexuality and middle age”, goes out to have a word with Kehoe as he ruminates in the Model House parking lot. J.P. states, insightfully, that Kehoe’s antics were going to catch up with him. Thanks, Dad. Hey, acting like a total asshole is bad? What? Fine, I’ll buy it, but only until I get hired on at the Beverly Hills California Pizza Kitchen. Get it? ‘Cause they’re all assholes, there. And they don’t bring me lemonade and butter patties when I want them. Hey, Kehoe, maybe they’ll hire you. Wait, I think you need a general education degree and no STDS. Oops, nevermind.
J.P./my aging, homosexual Dad keeps on talking about how Janice has made her whole career on no drugs and maintaining a positive public image. Really, J.P.? Really? May I submit to the jury piece of evidence number 1:
Please, Tim Burton, let me be in your next film…!
Not convincing enough? How about this….
Yeah, I found that all in Janice’s Purse.
Or how about this….
Not actually Janice Dickinson.
Okay, that last one was just a personal photograph I like to keep with me, in case of emergencies. I think I’ve made my point about Janice being a bit of a hypocrite. Man, I should be a lawyer. I mean, I’ve already gotten like 50 PhDs, it’s time to try something new.
J.P. calls both Janice and Crystal fragile (HA)! If fragile means you’re made of Jerky meat, than I guess you’re right, J.P. J.P. told the cameras that “Kehoe needed to hit rock bottom…I think it finally got to him.” Really? Last time I checked, you aren’t constantly applying hair gel at rock bottom. Maybe, however, I’m just not deep enough for J.P. Sigh. Kehoe leaves on the note of him wanting to change, to show Janice that he’s a human being capable of not raping other human beings with the use of tranquilizers or other sedatives. Can he do it? Only time and the lesions on your penis will tell, Kehoe.
Meanwhile, the rest of the models are all cozy in their barracks and heading of to model sleepyland. All, except one- Alien-face Russian, who is busy downing two Marie Callender pies and a Carrot Cake for dessert. Wha? Apparently, on Neptune, they only eat baked goods. And, at night? Didn’t Gremlins teach us not to feed aliens shit after midnight?
Polina, Keep it down… others are trying to rest.
Janice fears Polina is developing an eating disorder, but I don’t think they have those on other planets. C’mon, Janice, Do your research. The next morning brings more complaints about the cleanliness of the models and Janice gets them all oiled up for the TinTe Cosmetics Casting. She goes snooping under Polina’s bed and finds….cake boxes. Throat Spray. And, a space helmet. Maurice, Polina’s roommate, thinks it’s no big deal and that it’s her genetics. I think, also, he said that even if she was a space alien bullemic, he’d still do her in her alien parts. That’s just something I think I hear him say. When we were talking. That other day.
Come on, Polina. What, you don’t like black guys?
TinTe cosmetics seems…pretty much like any other small scale cosmetics company. Wow. What? They sell lip gloss? Eye shit? In different colors? How unique. Sign me up, will you? I love colors n’ Chemicals. All the ladies have to chisel off their makeup for the casting, but for some it seemed more difficult than others. Polina sneaks some maekup on for the casting, becase she feels a little..too naked without it. Too naked, or need to cover up your gils and aforementioned alien parts, hmm?
When all the women are all nekkid-faced, TinTe makes them scavenge the bag of makeup to put on…new makeup. TinTe chooses Crystal, Xian, Nadia, Dominique and Selina. Polina gets all pissed off because she really wanted to get cast.
Was it my mascara?
Janice keeps pushes Hazuki onto TinTe, but they don’t bite. Sorry, Hazuki. Even a new hairdo doesn’t hide your boringness. Hey, maybe some DDR or a brand new hellokitty backpack will cheer you up! In the end, TinTe picks Crystal, Dominique and Xian “does this shoot have a buffet table” Wilkinson. Okay, her last name isn’t really Wilkinson. But she totally asked me about the buffet last shoot.
But what? Dominique isn’t available on the shoot day? that’s fine. Where’s Nadia? That’s cool. No hard feelings…right? It’s okay that Nadia’s not as pretty or as fire-crotched. No biggie. Right? This agency’s pretty laid back. Right . Janice gives Dominique an ultimatum because she’s got too many “agents.” And by agents, I think it means pimps. Just sayin.’ Aparrently, models can have more than one agent, and Dominique all went and booked something “off camera,” as I say (meaning, in real life. Meaning, out of the lazered, Orwellian gaze of G Dogg). Dominique defends her honor and mediocre looks by saying that she didn’t “have Janice’s number.” what? Doesn’t everybody?
You can call Janice, or get on your electric horse and buggy and pay her a visit.
Again, Janice tells Dominique to hit the road. But it’s not a huge loss, I mean, she might’ve been tall and skinny, but she wasn’t really pretty. Dominque whines a little. then comes back in demanding money from Janice for a past “job.” Janice, in turn, gives little orphan Anniefirecrotch a business card with the agency’s number on it.
Dominique, do you like what you see?
Wow, a real, live business card. What will they think of next?
Dominique, like any pseudo-homeless person, stares at the card in wonderment. If she had just told Janice she was booked…all this would’ve been solved. And, no good TV moments emphasizing Dominique’s frumpy-assedness and Janice’s hundred year old
Can anyone spare some chicken bones? I want to make a soup.
In an act of utter incomprehension on my part, the awkward squabbling becomes and even more awkward hug. And then, apologies. Come on, J.D. That doesn’t make for T.V. why don’t you, like, set her head on fire or hide Dominique’s sweater-shrug thing? Here in TVland, we put gas on the flames, not flap our botox-lips in apology. Geesh!
Dominique admits she’s a little afraid of Janice (no shit, she’s 1,000 years old. She probably captured the lindburgh baby and is storing pieces of the berlin wall in her coochie. NO SHIT.) but she’s relieved that Janice let her back into the agency after sorta- firing her. Oh, but more drama awaits before the night is through for JDMA (the agency and the show). Hazuki gets all mopey because she’s Japanese. What? Don’t go against stereotype, Hazuki. Now how will I make all the Hello Kitty jokes that I so love? Hazuki is pretty intimidated by the other girl-models, and she gets all weepy.
I just don’t feel as white as the other girls (wipes snot from nose).
Hazuki, just cause you ain’t Jersey Trash or a mallrat doesn’t mean you aren’t worthless in other ways. And, actually, it’s probably better english isn’t your second language so we can’t hear all the mundane things you’re saying. Of course, Seline boring-face puts in her two cents about a situation that is sooo her business. Seline reiterates the harships Hazuki must feel about being bilingual. Boo, hoo.
Oh, we’re all so sorry you aren’t white and dumb, Hazuki. Hugz!
And so ends another night in the whackjob mansion. The next morning, new surprises are in store. All the men have to get up early to wha? Have a ballet lesson. Of course, it’s just the guys cause, you know, girls don’t need to have poise or balance. Oh, and yeah, men doing girly ballet shit is better for tv. Right?
Just call me Frau Hard Nipples.
J.D. was all dimayed, but of course, it’s mostly just hiding his excitement right? Cause all closeted gay men love the ballet, right? Chandler feels like a douchebag (but you’re so boring!) but Danny Nunez didn’t think it was a big deal, cause he goes naked everywhere.
You only get 8 dollars an hour from this community college art class, but you get to show your wang. You’ll take it? Perfect.
Serin gets a bit of a boner with all the soft man-legging action, but most of the guys just look like uncomfortable extras from a UC-Long Beach’s production of Pippin. J.D., ever the kiss ass, appreciates Janice’s “suprise classes” because they teach him that he can be gay for an hour without being found out. J.D., your life seems…bejeweled with awesomeness. Really. Just admit you’re 45 and homosexual. Do it. Do it. Marty makes a big fuss because he’s deaf and in the back of the bus (I mean, line. Is there no justice for anyone?) so he gets to do his plie first. Serin, on the other hand, is completely in his element.
Finally a chance for Serin to be himself.
But who wins the challenge? J.P. is picked as the best dancer (suprise) and Peyton as the worst, so he has to wear a dog collar? I don’t get it. J.P., Danny and Peyton all get invited to live in the house (still don’t get it). Janice, in her incoherent blather, says something about J.P. showing the guys the ropes, and about Peyton and Danny being rising stars. Aww…sure, Janice. But will their parole officers mind they’re living in your house? hmm?
Of course, inside the house Janice’s non-model crew have beached themselves on a couch.
Talkin’ current events at the JDMA.
Danny and Peyton waltz in playing their favorite game, Toilet-paper football, and the makeup artists get all pissy. Really? Do they really expect more from the models. Because I don’t. Models are like puppies with nice cheekbones…you always gotta make sure to keep a tarp on your bed for pee-pee stains. The makeup guy,Gabe, is offended to be called “bro” by Danny (is he mad because he looks like an eighth grade boy? or that he will never have sexual intercourse with any of the models, ever, even if he like, makes a model- trap out of a propped up box and a string to pull when the model wanders into the box?) Names fly- like “corn fed,” “old-ass” and “bro” some more. Peyton is escorted out of the house and Gabe somehow has someone shove a broomstick even more up his ass, and walks out in a huff. Gabe looks like a little 8th grade boy gargoyle with too much orange base, btw. Peyton goes to apologize to Gabe upon Janice’s prompting, but can’t find him. Anti-climactic, I know. Oh well. Know what’ll make everyone feel better? More mayhem. And half-assedly hitting on Janice when trying to select beds. Unfortunately, there are no beds for the two newbies, so they make a little rape-villa out of a living room and steal other people’s covers to sleep on. Nice. It’s like spring break, almost, only I don’t get any pre-violation pina coladas.
Yeahhh! We VIP. Totally. To celebrate, I’m going to bite something.
The “VIP” room, oozing class.
That’s awesome, guys, taking blankets from girls for your rape-pad. You guys should get a nobel peace prize, or something. Know who else should get a nobel peace prize? Janice Dickinson. Know what for? Fashion? No. Taste? no. Tact? yes! For her onslaught of ham-fisted insinuations that Polina has an eating disorder. Janice rambles on about her own issues with her dad (BLECH) and eating and being a smoker and blah blah blah. Polina admits she eats three times more than most of the models (I’m assuming this isn’t including Xian and Traci, because they’re less models and more livestock, right?) Polina alien-face sticks to her guns and denys having an eating disorder, stating that she has a “fast metabolism” and “if she couldn’t eat that much, she wouldn’t.” yeah, I know, most martians have like, those microchips in them that suck out frosting and cake-based matter. I know how you work. Pol. I’m shaking fists and taking names.
This isn’t fair! I’m just skinny cause I’m from Mars. I mean, Russia! Bwaahhh!
Food aside, TinTe can’t get enough of Xian, Nadia and Crystal. TinTe loves Nadia because of her hair (apparently, it’s long, dark and unforgettable), Xian because of her eyes and the way she puts away packages of twinkies (it’s truly remarkable) and Crystal…because…she’s…uh, I dunno. Tall? Let’s say, tall.
The episode ends with Kehoe returning to the house! What do you think will happen, folks? What will Kehoe have to say/rape? And who will get the coveted TinTe spokeswoman role? And how many carrot cakes will alien-face put away in the next hour or so? Oh, the excitement! The anticipation!