Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Well, sadly, this week’s Pussycat Dolls episode was not as fun-filled, drama-filled or even ralph-filled as I would have liked. However, it’s not as ridiculous as the show that ANTM has devolved into, so I guess it was just an off week. I do have to say, though, that I LOVE a good makeover episode! Especially one with a celebrity guest!

After a bounce-a-riffic recap of last week’s episode, and the It-Never-Gets-Old bounce-fest of an opening credit sequence (“If ya DON’T dance like this, YOU’RE OUTTA HERE!”), we join the girls during their heavy-hearted trudge up the stairs after the last elimination. You’d think that they are all pretty little Atlases, and their hot pink feather boas the world resting wearily on their shoulders. Poor little lambs. Every last one of them seems shaken up, as though the fear of God (see: Robin) has been thrusted into her.

“I didn’t bring it like I normally do,” Melissa S. says of her last performance, in a voice so sugary sweet and with eyes so puppy-dogged that I KNOW I am being lied to and that does NOT excuse the fact that you came in past curfew. She “breaks down” into tears about still being in the competition, and meanwhile Jaime tells Asia she did a great job. “You did horrible,” Asia replies, twirling her hair and strutting away. Whoa. Did I miss something here? I’m not sure why Asia said that, but maybe it’s the same kind of tough love she uses on her baby. Baby Mama. Baby Mama Drama.

Anyway, so Sisely is all bein’ a crybaby about the judges not liking her, and we can tell she’s upset because she’s all in slow motion. She articulates her feelings by using the word “like” after every other word in her sentence and whines, sigh, AGAIN about not getting any sleep. Come on, grandma, step it up! You can sleep when you’re 30! I’m sure that’s why she’s not doing her best because, as we all know, all the other girls ever do is sleep in and loll around the Pussy Castle all day.

The girls get Pussy Mail (which they call Screen Mail but come on, I think we can all agree that Pussy Mail is a far superior title for this honor bestowed upon them) and this time Nicole Sherzingslutty manages to keep her mouth from going all agape, but I still don’t listen to a fucking word that the other girls say. I’m just waiting for Nicole to do something wacky. I do have to say, however, that I love the fact that in all of their Pussy Mails the girls look like their just sitting around in their shared living room, chillin’ in their stripper gear. Y’know, like any other Tuesday night.

“We’re going to Blockbuster, any requests?”

So Robin is, naturally, waiting for them in the dance studio, blabbing on and on about the magic P word of the day: Persona. As usual, Robin is dressed in her usual classy garb, black wifebeater (dude she’s so tough), stretchy pants, high heels, and extra collagen.

“New boobs? Anyone?”

She introduces a PCD named… uh, something or other, and all the girls ooh and ahh over her. It’s adorable how they still get so star-struck. I mean, they’ve met Mark McGrath like four times already. How much better does it get?

Oh okay, so she’s named Kim, and apparently she’s the Total Rocker Chick of PCD, on account of her total whiteness and sometimes Mohawk. She and Robin make out for a li’l bit and then she goes into a whole thang about having a persona (or letting someone make one up for you) and holding onto that persona no matter what the press (and TVGasm) says. “When you go out there, people are gonna wanna put a label on you,” she warns. Yep, I have to say it’s pretty true. I’ve had labels for each of these girls in my mind since day one. You don’t even know what kind of names I had for Brittany, until Mikey trumped them all and crowned her Stripperella.

For the next challenge… you got it! More fucking groups! I suppose I shouldn’t hope for any solo sessions in this competition; after all, this is no “American Idol.” The Pussycat Dolls are nothing if they don’t have each other. This week there are two groups: one to sing Pat Benatar’s “Heartbreaker” and one to sing En Vogue’s “Free Your Mind.” SWEET! Nostalgia overload! I have to tell y’all, I just made a Guilty Pleasure mix CD the other day, and both of those songs were on it. I can’t wait to see how the Pussy Hopefuls tear it up.

I sense a baldy threesome coming up!

For some reason I’m not surprised when they split up the groups into Women-of-most-color and Women-of-least-color. Or as I like to call them, Girls-who-look-like-the-girls-from-En-Vogue and Girls-who-…don’t. You do the math. Sisely is allllll kinds of excited to show her stuff and channel her inner Pat Benatar, since last week she sucked with the non-whitey hit “Pon De Replay.” She surely feels more in her element now.

The En Vogue group discusses their concern over Mariela being the weakest link, because she has henceforth been known as The Booty, not The Voicebox. Chelsea worries that she isn’t much of a dancer, “… as we all know,” Mikey says, chastising her on her flailing arms. And of course, Sisely is griping about something, this time about having TOO much pressure on her because this IS a song that would be good for her. You just can’t win, can you Sis?

“My brain hurts!”

She whines that she just hasn’t had enough sleep lately. She puts her head in hands and says to the camera, “Pat Benatar… she’s like, a ROCK. GODDESS.” Yeah, and you? You’re complaining that you didn’t get your 8 hours. Eric tries pushing her one more time to really go all out and she says, “But… like… DUDE.” I totally know, Sisely. Say no more.

Robin announces that, in order to bring out the persona she wants them to have, she’s taking them… all… to get…. wait for it…. MAKEOVERS!!! YEA!!!!! Coincidentally enough, said makeovers are being performed by none other than Robin’s bro, Jonathan Antin, whom some of you may remember (or not) from a little Bravo program called “Blowout.” He’s the dude that looks just like Robin, but with shorter hair and fewer facial expressions. Personally, I just can’t wait to see who cries.

“Ouch… face… hurt…”

Jonathan promptly begins fondling all of the girls’ hair, and upon mention of getting bangs, Chelsea almost… almost starts to cry. I would cry too, after seeing what bangs did to Stripperella. Chelsea’s self-conscious because of all the baggage she has from being heavy in her earlier years. They show us pictures of her during those days, and personally, I think she was actually still pretty cute, but what do I know? I guess we can all agree that getting bangs IS a risky decision.

Like lookin’ in a mirror

Meanwhile, Little Miss Sisely has turned into an Upper East Side trophy wife, instructing the stylists on what to do and informing them of what she despises.

I am now accepting entries for best caption for this photo.

“You should see the numbah my manicurist did on my nails!”

Post-makeover, the Pussy Hopefuls get to go to some “hot L.A. club” and show off their new looks, or so says Anastacia. I really can’t tell what they did with her. I don’t think they did anything different to her, because as we all know, Anastacia is a perfect specimen. They probably just played with her hair for a second and gossiped before tending to Sisely. At the club they all look just go-geous, and even get some complimentary whistles from Mr. McGrath. “Look at these creations,” he marvels.

“Marry me, whydontcha!”

The next day at rehearsal, Mikey takes advantage of all of Chelsea’s insecurities by slapping her repeatedly on the stomach and yelling “Tight, tight, tight!!!” He goes just a li’l bit berserk on her and threatens that she will get CUT because he WILL tell the judges anything he WANTS to tell them. Wow, is he really threatening to tell on her? I mean, if he wants a blow job that bad, even from a girl, he could just speak up and say so.

Luckily, Chelsea can count on Sisely to toss away her own troubles and educate her in the ways of the Almighty Booty Shake. Sis transforms into a Crazypants Drill Sergeant, yelling “GO GO GO GO!” at Chelsea and teaching her all kinds of psychopath moves to do. Here I start to worry that either Sisely is trying to sabotage Chelsea, or she’s just expressing all of her frustrations through the timeless catharsis of interpretive dance. Either way, it disturbs me. Either way, there were just too many screengrabs to pass up here.

Flying through the air with the greatest of ease….

“Jigga wha-?”

Poor Chelsea. She has a brain. She wisely is not taking any of Sisely’s advice based mainly on the fact that Sis is not actually a judge (and sucks anyway). They get into a little passive-aggressive silence fight and then we cut to a commercial break, wherein a hilarious local newscaster, who is old, square, and whiter than snow actually says the word “Pussycat.” Priceless.

We join the Pussy Hopefuls as they arrive at a recording studio to meet Ron Fair. Asia adorably explains who Ron Fair is (the chairman of Geffen Records), in a slow, hesitant, dippy way reminiscent of those “Children Say The Darndest Things” shows. I half-expect her to say, “Ron Fair is… a really fun place where you can go, like with your parents, and ride on rides, and go on the Ferris wheel, and…”

After Ron explains that this VERY SPOT is where they cut the PCD record (and they show the same clip from the “Don’t Cha” video that I have seen EIGHT MILLION TIMES ON THIS SHOW already), he tells us that their challenge today is to sing. Oh damn! Hope they can pull this off! This will surely separate the girls from the Pussies.

The ladies go through their individual recordings, and many are mediocre, some stand out, but best of all we’re treated to several cutaways of Ron doing his best Pussycat Dolls impressions and extreme close-ups of the girls’ lips. Mmm mmm good.

“Carribean Queen!”

When Mariela comes in to listen to her take, Ron compliments her and she promptly breaks down into a weeping bag of tears. Tears of joy, that is! Ron Fair doesn’t get all mushy, because I’m pretty sure he’s a New Yorker, but he does get all father-figurey and imparts upon Mariela his words of advice about taking risks in life and all that crap.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t win the challenge. Melissa S. wins, for reasons unknown, and puts everyone else down into the dumps, especially Crankypants Sisely who sooooo thought she had this in the bag. They ride home in the Big Creepy White Van in silence.

“Dammit. Should have used more tongue.”

At their performance at the Pussycat Lounge the next night, Mark McGrath, perhaps shaky after not being in front of a live audience for so many years, introduces the judges. Same as last week: “visionary” Robin, Ron Fair, and Li’l Kim, Queen of Makeover. and Over. And Over. And Over… I still love her though.

Look at those cheeeeeeks!

En Vogue wannabes go first, and do pretty well, all sparkly in their semi-matching outfits. Anastacia whipped her hair around a lot. Their asses were really round. They even gave us some pole dancing. Y’know, the usual. The judges loved them. Ron even called Anastacia “intoxicating,” which was hilariously pervy.

Go Sparklebutts!

The doomed-to-fail Pat Benatars were up next, and Sisely is a sweaty mess. She fucks with the beat a lot, which may work when you’re playing CBGB but when the PCDs sell out Madison Square Garden, their fans want you to be on the beat, sister. The ladies headbang their way through this one, and when Melissa R. actually grabs her crotch, I laugh so hard I think I’m gonna have an accident.

“Group 2, they were rockin’, Robin,” Mark McGrath says. Oh dammit. Couldn’t the producers think of anything better? Or was this one of those unfortunate situations where they let the “talent” ad-lib? In either case, GROAN.

The judges are none too pleased here, although lukewarm in their pans of each lady. That is, until they get to Sisely. Sisely gets bitchslapped by those judges. So hard, in fact, that she goes cross-eyed.

Oh, the pressure of Pat, weighing heavily on the eyelashes.

She tries that tired excuse about being pushed harder and harder all the time, and Ron’s all, “yeah you and the rest of the working world.” Li’l Kim says, “Can you imagine what I’ve had to do to make it? I mean, I had to go to prison!” Well, actually, naw you didn’t HAVE to go to prison, but whatever. She has a point.

“Hahaha, prison!”

After the break, the judges decide that, clearly, En Vogue should be the winners here, because they were the only ones who knew what the fuck they were doing. Kim wisely advises that a real star should be able to sing ANY song. True dat.

“Wanna make out?”

So at elimination it comes down to the Heartbreakers. Chelsea and Melissa R. are safe, which leaves us with Jaime and Crankypants. Poor Jaime. I think she tries really really hard to do something, anything interesting with herself and for some reason it just doesn’t translate. And Sisely, well, she was just freaky, desperate and angry-looking at this performance. Um, NOT attractive.

Unfortunately, Blondie has to go, because she doesn’t have those red “rocker” streaks in her hair (I blame Jonathan Antin). I could understand her leaving, ‘cuz there was no way in hell her personality was breaking out of that shell of a body, but now I just hate Sisely and want her to either provide some serious crazy hilarity, or get THE HELL OFF MY STAGE. You? Thoughts? Predictions?

And so this Atlas removes the world from her shoulders.