Looks like Keenyah’s bitchery last episode was just a dress rehearsal because she went from “nearly intolerable” to “I want to punch her in her damn lantern jaw” this week. The episode kicked off with the girls at breakfast. In between bites of her seven course breakfast, Keenyah tried to explain away her nasty behaviour as mere competitiveness. I bet that’s just what Tonya Harding said when she smashed Nancy Kerrigan’s knee.
While she was explaining, Brittany tried to cut in only to be met with a stern rebuke by Keenyah. Brittany looked annoyed. Uh oh, do I smell trouble in paradise? Or is it merely the aroma of Keenyah’s third helping of bacon?
Later on, Keenyah started reading out the latest Tyra-mail but got distracted in the middle by Kahlen’s muffin. For real; no exaggeration. “Is that chocolate?” she drooled, gazing upon the muffin with lust and longing. Noting the dangerous muffin-lust in Keenyah’s eyes, Kahlen wisely gave her a piece. Poor Kahlen. I bet that was her first big-city muffin too.
The next morning, it was off to meet designers Bebe and Mandela. No, not that Mandela. The non-Madiba version. Bebe and Not-Mandela took them on a township tour where the girls sadly looked at all the shacks. They then went to a community centre where a terrible challenge awaited them – they had to learn to dance.
Nooo! The last time we had schmodels learning to dance, it was for Tyra’s musical masterpiece “Shake Ya Body”! Is she planning a South African version with some kwaito thrown in?
Luckily, Tyra remained absent. Kahlen paled and cried at the thought of dancing – the only kinds of movement they have in Hicksville are walking, running and sometimes jumping. Dancing is far too sophisticated for them. Nevertheless, she swallowed her fear and managed to get the moves down without completely embarrassing herself.
Keenyah on the other hand was very happy to be learning traditional African dancing because she thought she would connect more. See, Keenyah is black and therefore is more connected to South Africa. Or at least that’s what she said five thousand times during the episode.
She said that she felt she’d returned home now that she was on the shores of Africa. Bitch, please. Your home is the U.S. of A, finish en klaar. Your roots most likely go back to somewhere in West Africa and Africa’s not some homogenous cultural lump so don’t come with this deep, spiritual connection rubbish. You’re more spiritually connected to the room service tray at the hotel.
They schmodels danced in front of an audience and when asked who was the best, they unsurprisingly picked professional dancer Naima whose reward was thirty extra photo shots. She was asked to pick another girl to get extra shots but instead of picking her friend Kahlen, she picked Keenyah because she considered Kahlen and Brittany bigger competition. And that is playing the game without being a dick about it, unlike some people.
Kahlen paled and cried (seriously, she did that a lot this episode. I think Keenyah may have accidentally dropped onion rings in her bra) and wondered why they were doing this to her. Maybe if you’d also given Naima a piece of muffin, she wouldn’t be punishing you like this, Kahlen.
The next Tyra-mail had the mysterious numbers 46664 on it. Well, mysterious if you’re a clueless American model, not really mysterious to us. The girls wondered what the numbers could mean – was it the sign of the devil’s fourth cousin? The number of calories Keenyah had consumed that day? The street number of the unemployment office so they know where to go when they strike out as models?
No, it was, of course, the number of Nelson Mandela’s cell on Robben Island. Or “Robbene” Island as a badly-spelled subtitle informed us. The girls were off to see Madiba’s cell because you can’t have a reality show come to SA without trying to squeeze a deep and meaningful moment out of it.
Keenyah was especially excited to see the cell because, as she explained, she’s black. Unfortunately, her spiritual link to Africa doesn’t extend to knowing much about it because she had to ask Brittany whether Mandela was alive or dead. Brittany was like, “Duh, alive.” Even Brittany knows this and she’s a slack-jaw whose braincells are permanently floating in a pool of alcohol.
At the cell, the tour guide asked which schmodel would like to open the gate to the cell and Naima stepped forward to take the key. Keenyah bristled (because she’s black!) and complained that she’d wanted to use the key. Because she’s just so spiritually connected to the history of the place, you see. Even though she doesn’t even know whether Mandela is dead or alive.
She then bitchily interviewed that she didn’t even think Naima was really black because she didn’t look black. Oy. Not that I’d necessarily expect an intelligent discussion on identity politics from a woman who can’t pronounce magenta but still; what a headdesk moment. How I wish Naima had whupped her ass back to where she came from (hint: it’s not Africa).
Let’s move straight onto the photoshoot before this turns into an academic paper on race and identity issues. The schmodels were dolled up 40s style and had to dance with three loincloth-clad Zoolanders while the photographer shot them.
One Zoolander, named Bertini, liked the extra junk in Keenyah’s trunk so much that he tried to get her number. During the photoshoot, he also got a little frisky, laying his hands on her bum. Where’s the pepper spray when you need it? Keenyah was uncomfortable and decided to eat the pain away.
Also ill at ease was Kahlen who just didn’t know why she can’t feel comfortable around guys. I have a suggestion but it involves girls and naked pillow fights. Brittany on the other hand was more than happy to have three half-nekkid himbos around her (heck, in the Brittany household, that’s a typical Saturday night) and Naima's dance experience once again served her well.
Even though Keenyah totally thought Bertini was a sleaze, she and the other schmodels still agreed to go to dinner with him and the other Zoolanders. There, she tried to avoid paying any of the drinks bill because she hadn’t brought any money with her. Refusing to pay for drinks was just a step too far for Brittany and their big blow-out began.
Brittany called Keenyah out on her sense of entitlement and even mild-mannered Naima got in the swing of things. Kahlen paled and cried and went to hide in a corner like the timid little bok she is, no doubt wishing Christina was still there to spoon away her sadness. Why can’t we all just get along? Whhhhyyyy?
Judging time. The schmodels were forced to dance and then hold their pose when Tyra yelled “stop!” like some retarded version of Musical Chairs. They mostly behaved like they always do: Kahlen danced the dorky white girl dance, Keenyah hogged the spotlight, Naima faded into the background but Brittany did not ham it up as much as she usually does.
Keenyah was the first to be declared safe even though she had the worst photo. Now despite the fact that Brittany and Naima were deemed to have the best photos, guess who the bottom two were?
Naima and Brittany were called out for having no personality. Apparently it’s better to have a crap personality like Keenyah. And anyone who can say with a straight face that Brittany has no personality because she didn’t ham it up as much as usual has been hitting the Swazi Gold too much.
OK, so there's a bit of unfortunate armpit placement (it's Bertini, he deserves it) but this pic is what gets Brittany kicked out? Mai justis, wher iz it?Brittany, whose photo was deemed “flawless”, was sent home and Keenyah, who has had four bad photos in a row, got to stay. It’s this show’s most obviously rigged decision. Well, excluding last week. And the week before that. And the week before…let’s just say this entire season’s been one big WTF.