***Note from the Editor: Please welcome the newest member of the TVgasm family, Monamonzano!
The Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency (the show, not the pretend agency) kicks off another season of absolute, unequivocal mayhem by making itself as much like a reality game show (the distinction seems to be group housing, eliminations and bitch-slapping) as it can be. Still, I can. Not. Believe. That. This. Is. A. show. Period.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled that it is one.
Jerky-esque Janice finds new poor, dumb models to add the the parade of weirdness at The Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency (the pretend agency, but also the show) starting with Hazuki Kato (she’s from Ireland! Kidding! I’m dumb.). But seriously, Janice LOOOOVES Japan. Yeah, so do I. I also take pictures of Japanese women on the weekends, for my “agency.” What?
You’re hired. I love Cashew Chicken and Big Trouble in Little China.
Then there’s Martin Richie, the deaf guy from Texas. Geez, what, are we on Top Model? Next thing I know Janice’ll be housing trannies and (gasp) plus sized models…or at least someone with a learning disability. You just don’t see Dyspraxia represented enough on TV these days.
Mia Fields, another newbie, is the whitest black person ever and Xian Mikol looks like a white chick, but what’s with her name? I bet her real name is like, Brittany or Clarissa or something, and she works at a mall. Whatevs. Chandler Maness looks like he has fetal alcohol syndrome. For REAL. I’m not even joking. I want to put away my bottle of Jack that I sip while I write this and cry a little (but only a little).
A little grooming goes a long way.
In the end, Janice chose 7 poor bastards to come on her wild horrorshow fashion bangin’ boat ride from hell. Then the show goes into a tasteful little montage that explains the “bright idea” she got about having most of the models live in a house with her, and running the agency out of said house. Brilliant, Janice. I’ll call it the “Model Corral.” Yay! I, too, run a business out of my home. But it has less to do with modeling and more to do with moonshine, the homeless and my bathtub.
So, Janice “Beef jerky blow-up doll” Dickenson finds a chic house to rent for her agency headquarters. The house features lots of white upholstery, a boat in a pool (which seems a little impractical to me, but whatever, I’m not a seaman) and an ill-decorated master bedroom. So Janice does what any fun-loving semi-psychotic who needs ratings would do: Call Madonna’s brother to fix that shit UP. Hey, I get it, there aren’t enough gay decorators on T.V. yet- give Madonna’s brother Chris Chiccone a shot. I mean, he’s already famous, but is he feisty enough ? The answer is no. I mean, Janice couldn’t even PAY him for his work? Is this guy that desperate? Call your sister for a fifty, why dontcha? But it turned out okay, cause not only did Janice get a nice pretty new home for her crazy, she got her own monitoring/security booth so she could patrol the goings-on in the house. Is this necessary? It already seems like Janice Dickenson has little tvs in her head where she sees all her pretty models’ faces and knows what’s going on with them and their heads n’ bodies and stuff.
Someone’s in the kitchen getting near the trick box of Cap’n Crunch and I’M PISSED!
Hey! There’s a boat in the pool!
The models get a load of the big new house soon after Janice meets with Otto Models. This is to solidify the fact that she won’t actually do any work (you know, like, work like faxing and negotiating and using a non-cellular telephone and stuff), she’ll just be barking at people and changing outfits all day. Hey, that gets exhausting, though, especially with the cache of being the world’s first supermodel in 300BC. Yeah, I know: That’s before JESUS.
But I digress. The models dig the new digs, wandering around like watery-eyed, big-titted puppy dogs. The older models are even more ridiculous than the new ones: Brian Kehoe, a model from last season, is a case in point. If the Model House was a frat house, he’d be pouring the date-rape laced drinks. Actually, watch your drink. Yeah, even from your computer. I can smell his STDs from the monitor. Yeah, I smell STDS. Yes, I’m magic.
Is someone making pot roast?
All the old models think they’re gonna get to stay in the house over the new ones. (yeah, I know, when’s the elimination ceremony, right?) But, of course, Janice decides to drop a deuce of crazy and not let them know the real story. I can’t even imagine what the deaf guy is going through- I’m not sure if I pity him or if I’m insanely jealous that he doesn’t get to hear the inane, constant blather that pours from the mouth of J. Dick. The editors of The Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency (the show, not the pretend agency) must love Traci, the most coherent of all the models, and the only one who can put sentences together to explain what the hell’s going on. Yeah, she’s not the prettiest, but she’s got her purpose. Janice introduces another two models (Selena, the mallrat and Paulina, who I think is either an alien or some type of genetically enhanced Panther) into the mix, as well. Janice hopes to have more variety to show to Nikolita, a Cuban Swimwear Designer, the casting call of the episode. Yay, I love when models get pitted against one another because of their pretend careers!
As they bring the bodies out for Nicolita, it is obvious that Paulina (remember? Alien Panther?) is overwhelmed. By what? It’s hard to say. Direction? Male Models? Bikini swimwear? It’s all so complicated! Maury, the token black male model, keeps hitting on Paulina in front of people and that might be what creeped the shit outta her. Stay away from Maury. And who names a young cute black guy Maury? Some pretty evil parents, if you ask me.
Nicolita pick CC (a fleshy Latina), Traci and Paulina for the final girls in consideration and they book fetal alcohol syndrome (Chandler) as the guy-face for Nicolia (yeah, guy-face is a technical term).
Then, the models party, which mostly means getting naked and scowling at people you don’t know. Hey, I’d be a great model! Janice reveals that she picks ALL NEW MODELS to live in the house with her, but we’re left hanging because there are 9 new models…and 15 beds! Who else will be chosen? Oh, the Drama! The DRAMA!
I don’t have a caption for this pic, but I find it hilarious and disturbing and wonderful. Thanks for reading!