New Zealand’s Next Top Model is finding the packet of Tim Tams.
The makeover episode is eating the Tim Tams.
The photo shoot involving plastering the modules’ faces with sequins, feathers, glitter and paint is, quite clearly, eight thousand more packets of Tim Tams.
And Colin Mathura Jeffree is the limp carrot in the crisper. You know I’m right.
DRESS YOUR AGE, WOMAN. Also P.S: I know you’ve been going to a lot of funerals lately, but nicking frocks from dead old ladies is really crossing the line. As is, granted, the use of the phrase ‘dead old ladies’. Sorry. FYI, ‘Lacy Shoulders’ is a drag name, not a dress code. I know you love me, though, because you totally said the following on purpose during the Eliminarium deliberation: “Ulivin girls, but we ken only keep tin of thum. I suspect we might get un a but of a screp over this, so shell we try and keep it suvul?”. Thank you, Sara. I love you too.
Waaaiiiit. I see a deep v-necked t-shirt and a driving cap. I’ve... I’ve seen this before. Could – it’s not – Chris ‘Do Me Right Now’ Sisarich, have you been raiding Jonathan Pease’s wardrobe?! Tut, tut. That’s a spanking.
Colin Hyphenated-Surname seems to have spent a lot less time around powerpoints and humidity this week, but someone still needs to take his Big Book Of Fierce Gay Stylist Words away from him. Every time he refers to it, he appears to skim through the pages, looking, seeking, and then suddenly bursting forth with a “FEBULOUS!”, or a “STUNNUNG!”. Still, I have to give him points for embracing the briny theme of the underwater walking challenge by dressing as a pirate. He even went to the trouble of making his hair look exactly like kelp. Wait – I think I have a picture of it somewhere...
This week I’ll be providing you with a glossary to help you out with some words and phrases that you may be having trouble with:
Jezzercise – exercise one performs to a contemporary pop soundtrack after getting dressed in a hurricane in the 80s.
A-queer-i-um – a place with heaps of fush, but sadly no chups.
Redicowl Dufferunce – what happens when you get a haircut.
Vij-ta-bulls – what Ho(sanna) eats instead of chocolate.
Ix-ercise Ekwup-munt – various apparatus delivered to the house to facilitate weight maintenance and futness.
Squunt – what you do with your eyes in a photo shoot in order to look sixy
You Kept-a-vated The Lins - you take choice photos, ay.
Clearly the production budget blew out on face-sequins for the photo shoot, and there were only just enough spangles left to furnish the modules with one black sequinned frock. Last week Teryl-Leigh wore it to wreak racial havoc amidst the shower-hogging crowd. This week, Christobelle turns up to the walking challenge wearing it, and Lucy fronts up to the Eliminarium in it. That. Dress. Is. A. Slut.
• A lot of the girls are upset with the drestuck changes that are being made to their hair, and daub their faces with a mixture of tears, snot, and clumsy strings of damp tissue. Ladies. Take your elegant crying lesson from Ajoh, winner of this week’s Single Crystalline Tear award. Now, if we can just get the girl to blink, we’re on a winner. Seriously. Blink. I beg you.
• Sara tells Ho(sanna) that she’s getting an Eva Mendes haircut, but her hairdresser confuses her when he mentions that she’ll be getting ‘a Mediterranean kind of look’. Ho nervously asks “Is... is that near South America”? Yes, sweetie. Just next door. Near Belgium, but with heaps more sombreros.
• Everyone does quite well out of the makeovers except for Laura, who I will now be referring to as ‘Cotton Bud’. No reason.
• This week’s walking challenge involves confusing designer clothing, heels, walking on a conveyor belt, and being in an underwater aquarium tunnel. For reasons like this, I would eat this show’s snot if it asked me to.
• Despite my better (bitter?) judgement, I’m starting to pinpoint my favourites, and I mean that in an if-I-was-gay-I’d-totally-have-a-badge-made-featuring-your-face-and-if-you-leaned-in-to-see-it-I-would-jump-you-like-a-cheap-trampoline kind of way. Victoria and Ruby, I’m talking to you.
• Ajoh. Honey. Look into blinking. Come on.
• This week’s photo shoot tattoos daisies on my heart. The 2nd grade arts and crafts class from Taranaki Remedial Primary For The Blind has a fucking field day with sequins, glue, glitter, feathers and acrylic paint, making all kinds of miniature facial models of cartoon explosions and bacterial colonies. Apparently the theme is ‘underwater tropical fantasy’, but I see it more as ‘petri dish chic’. Except for Rebecca Rose, who has gone for more of a ‘bowel-looseningly terrifying bird/alien hybrid’ vibe. Bless.
• FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, AJOH, BLINK.
Anyway, Olivia is eliminated, presumably because she’s wearing a black velvet bow in her hair.
E haere ra, Olivia! You really and truly... well, showed up. Thanks, by the way. Bye.
Sweet, fierce baby jesus, this is my 100th Next Top Model-related post. That’s eight different kinds of get a life.