Attack Of The Smelly Face

By the end of the “Search For The Next Doll” this week, I was frustrated, flim-flammed and flabbergasted. This week’s lesson: it’s a slippery slope to the destruction of a dream once you realize it’s possible to fuck up.

This week’s episode starts out like any other: shots of the morning sunrise, the Pussy Castle, and our remaining lovely ladies rising at 7am with renewed worries about being sent home. Chelsea in particular expresses her guilt about the Bad Karaoke Singer leaving. “I feel like I took away her dream,” she says. Aw. Anastacia is still worried about her eating habits and I just want to slap her in the face and say “SHUT THE FUCK UP. You’re making it worse for yourself!” but there’s this terribly cold glass barrier separating the two of us. Oh well.

She and Chelsea then get into some kind of tiff about eating. Former chubster Chelsea laughingly laments Anastacia’s sudden dieting, which sets off a li’l time bomb inside of Anastacia. Oh, girls of America, when will we all stop fucking caring about that thing called flesh on top of our bones and realize that it’s the worrying about it that’s the most unattractive? Sheesh. Anyway, Anastacia snips at her, stalks off, and Chelsea is left feeling miffed because she wasn’t even insulting her. It’s not like she called her a drag queen or anything.

“Reflux, right here.”

Pussy Mail reveals that this week’s theme is personal style. “We’re sassy, but classy!” the PCDs sing as if in a high school cheerleading squad. Ha. Yeah, the epitome of class, right here.

Robin meets them in the dance studio and explains that for this week’s challenge, they’ll have to dance with the Pussycat Dolls. OMG! OMG! THE REAL PUSSYCAT DOLLS! But only four out of five of them will have the opportunity. Now, this leads me to wonder about the producers’ intentions, because if they are organizing an event, and know there are five girls left, why do they only have enough room on the stage for four girls? Why didn’t they just leave this challenge for next week? Well, that wouldn’t be good television, that’s why! So all the girls have to clamor over each other to impress Robin and Mikey enough with their dancing skills to be chosen for this high honor. This does not bode well for Chelsea.

Is that Melody or Asia??

“HEY GUYS LIKE MY NEW LEOPARD PRINT?!”

During rehearsals, Melissa struggles with her sex appeal, claiming that she never cared before, but now she’s wondering what Daddy’s gonna think. Did she and Chelsea trade bodies while I wasn’t looking? Mikey chastises her for not wearing her boob pads. Excuse me, her what? I think we all know now what REALLY happened to Stripperella – she just got carried away with the boob pads!

“OH GOD, I CAN’T FEEL MY NIPPLES!”

“I must, I must, I must increase my bust!”

He also complains that Anastacia is a small personality in a big package. He says she makes “the smelly face.” But, being the generous mentor that he is, he also gave her some sage advice: “just… be pretty.” Unfortunately for Anastacia, insecurity kills every ounce of talent she used to beautifully display while whipping around her hair. Bummer.

The girls all pile into a bus on the way to the venue, and seem to go… nowhere before getting off the bus and lining up to perform for Robin. Was I the only one who thought it strange/a little creepy that they’re doing this challenge in the parking lot? Huh.

“Okay, bitches, now get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head. It will all be over soon.”

So the ladies go at it and, yeah, dance in the parking lot, apparently to the fastest song ever written. I am 92% sure I couldn’t have done it. I am 100% sure Pisely would have eaten it on this one. But wouldn’t it have been fun to see that happen?

“I know, Asia totally smells like fish, doesn’t she?”

After a mini-deliberation with Mikey, Queen Robin says that Asia & Melissa R. are safe. I say, Fuck Asia, somebody make her close her mouth for once. Also, Melissa S. is clear. So it comes down to my personal favorites, Chelsea and Anastasia. Robin dramatically says, “So, here’s what I’m going to do…” before cutting to a commercial. DAMN YOU, CW! I’m dying to know what Robin’s gonna do to break the Suckiness tie. Dammit, I fell for it! I become certain that it will include a dance-off, and can’t wait for the commercial break to end. Except… it’s not really a commercial break. It’s a weird non-break. Mark McGrath comes on to tell us little-known (and little-cared-about) facts about the Pussy Hopefuls. Listen, Marky McG, unless it includes sex in a car, an empty highway at night, and a mysterious hook on the door handle, I really don’t give a fuck, mmmkay?

Oh yeah, remember when he was in that band?

After the “break,” I am at the edge of my seat, repeating in a whisper, “dance-off, dance-off, dance-off, gimme a dance-off!” All you have to do is see “Breakin’ 2 – Electric Boogaloo” to know how valuable a dance-off can truly be.

Unfortunately, Queen Robin is NOT that awesome and, instead, chooses for neither girl to be a part of the performance. What?! Only 3 backup dancers to accompany Nicole Scherzingfluffgirl? WEAK! I didn’t think Anastacia did that bad; but I guess the CW has other plans.

Drag queen of the day!

After the winning girls get gussied up and head out to the parking lot, Anastacia is left to hang out with the apparently insufferable Chelsea. “Hanging out with Chelsea… is like, being in prison, with Chelsea as a cell mate,” she muses. An amazing analogy, to be sure, but this is definitely making my love for Anastacia wane considerably. The editors make the most of this opportunity by putting together a Perky Chelsea Voice montage, comprised of her saying things like “I tried my best” and “I’m impressed with myself.” Well, at least she’s got her self-confidence to keep her warm. More than we can say for Anastacia.

Who’s the master and who’s the bitch here?

In the studio, the Pussycat Dolls hop onstage and start pumping up the crowd, while the Pussy Hopefuls wait in the wings. Then for the best moment this episode could squeeze out: a fuckup. Melissa R. starts to go onstage before she’s supposed to, and we see it from 5 different angles, or perhaps it’s 2 different angles 2.5 times each.

I promise guys, this was totally sequential. No duplicate shots.

Luckily, she rocks it anyway and we get some slow acoustic guitar music when the three girls explain how much this experience meant to them and how hard they worked for it. Nicole and Mikey even approve.

Asia and the Melissas are all jazzed when they return to their bunker within the tour bus and flaunt it in front of the losers’ faces. But things take a nasty turn when Melissa S. makes a faux pas about Chelsea being a shitty dancer (which she sometimes is; why can’t she just move her hips just a LITTLE more???). Chelss gets all offended and upset but still seems sweet and adorable. I’m on her side for shizzle.

Fortunately for everyone involved, the following focus on Asia breaks the tension when she says, “I just love being around talented people” and is next shown working this talent:

“Bet you ten feather boas I can balance this thing…”

But the roller coaster continues and the mood falls again when Melissa R. has a slight panic attack about the possibility of sudden success. “My mind feels like broken puzzles,” she says. Say wha-? I’m not sure why she’s so scared of it, because the last time I checked, winning was supposed to be a good thing, but she’s freaked out of her shit.

Someone get this girl a Xanax, stat!

And I would love to make some kind of snarky comment like, “don’t worry, sweetie, you’ll never have to deal with success” but there’s a strong possibility that she could get right up there at the top and be third, or even second fiddle to Nicole Sherzingschizo.

Back at the dance studio, I look at the girls and wonder what the fuck’s going on with logo tees these days? Tees these? I mean, one second Asia’s wearing the subtle “IT’S ALL ABOUT ME” shirt, the next second Melissa S. wears the Crazypants Classic “TOO HOT TO HANDLE” tee, and they’re just adding to countless others from this season. Goddammit I wish I’d gotten a screengrab of all of them! That would have made a lovely end-of-recap collection, no? It just seems to me that if you think of yourself as being a particular way, let it be known by how you behave, not plastering it across your tits. Am I wrong? Or at least in lower-case letters.

Anyone else think Anastacia is the next Tyra Banks?

Or perhaps the next Cleopatra…

Anyway, turns out the winner for the challenge was Melissa R. Yeah, the fuckup! I’m not surprised by anything in this competition anymore. Next thing you’ll be telling me Ron Fair loves Asia and wants her to win.

So she’s safe for the elimination round, and now they get their songs for the week. They’ll all perform together, and the medley will be: “Pink Panther,” “Beaver,” and “Big Spender.” Wait, what? What’s “Beaver?” Oh, “Fever.” I could have sworn she said “Beaver.” They’re “kickin’ it old school” as Robin, Old School Personified, tells the ladies, and quite frankly I am shocked, SHOCKED that they have chosen a song from an older generation this week. This is to be a tribute to the PCDs’ roots as burlesque performers, surprise surprise, surprise. I thought every week was supposed to be that, but whatever.

Robin assigns Chelsea to perform on a swing, and Melissa S. takes this opportunity to chime in about how bad of a dancer Chelsea is (because on a swing, no one needs choreography). You know, everyone thinks Melissa is all sweet and innocent, but I’m pretty sure that she’s secretly planting the seeds of insecurity into Chelsea, her biggest competition… because, as we all know, insecurity can easily drain you of all talent and coordination.

Even the devil does the dishes.

Meanwhile, Anastacia is in the rehearsal room, struggling with her moves, and I wonder: Whatever happened to our goddess?

We’re treated to another non-break, wherein we learn that Asia used to want to be a boxer, and I think, Isn’t this show losing its advertising dollars here?

At the Pussy Lounge, Marky Mark stiffly introduces the judges and I yell, “TELEPROMPTER! Speed it up!”

“Ladies and Gents, welcome to Hookerfest 2007!”

The girls launch into their routine, and in my professional opinion, Melissa S. sucked on account of her dropping the microphone into a damn bathtub, and Asia sucked because of her still-twitchy mic hands. When will she ever learn?

“Mama like!”

“Happy Fleet Week! Toot toot!”

Looks like Anastacia’s wearing HER boobie pads. Just sayin’.

When it comes down to it, the judges say they have a tough choice to make. And sure enough, they seem to love just about everybody except Melissa S., Asia’s hand, and Anastacia’s ever-sinking ego.

“MUST… DESTROY… ASIA…”

Backstage, every girl gripes about her performance and worries about her future as a Pussycat. Cut to crappy 3-minute Caress commercial. I mean, JUST AWFUL. I just watched and repeated, “What the fuck?” Really, it was like they gave a couple of junior high girls a camera, a ballet dancer and a budget and said, “Sure, whatever you want, just get it to us by Tuesday night.”

A big thank-you to the courtroom sketch artist for this one.

So yeah, so the judges have a tough decision to make and stuff. For the record, I’d like to say that Chelsea seems to actually be improving on her dancing handicap week by week, and if she just gave it that extra pop with her ass I think she’d be golden. I see her being the Adorable Pussy, whereas, what would any of the others be?

Yerk Knicks Pussy

Well, in the end, it comes down to Melissa S. and Anastacia. “Nooooooooo,” I sigh. This can’t happen! I wait with bated breath as Robin runs down why each of them rock and suck. “Oh my God, don’t do this,” I warn Robin. “DON’T. DO. THIS.”

“Congratulations……..” she says….

“Melissa S.”

Oh, goddammit. Really? REALLY, GUYS? REALLY? Jeesy Chreesy, I feel like Sanjaya just got through another round. Thanks a lot for dashing Tia Carrere’s hopes and dreams, Robin.

Separated At Birth?

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I didn’t expect this. I mean, she’s in the middle of the promo shot and everything. Are you guys as upset as I am? Anyway, here are some ass shots. See you on the boards.

Ah, the tender relationship between mentor and protègè.