It’s been literal months since I started doing chapter by chapter reviews of Tyra Banks magnum opus, “Modelland”, and what should have been daily reviews have slowly trickled down to quasi-monthly things that often devolve into long screeds rambling about the unfairness – the unfairness! – of it all.
I don’t know about you guys, but it gets pretty tyring (Get it? Get it?) having to maintain that kind of incredulousness, disbelief, and that itty bitty bit of rage. And if it can get really tiring for me, I don’t know how it feels for you guys. I get to vent; you guys have to bear with my my incessant whining.
So I’ve decided to shake things up a little bit and try something new. It’ll give me a chance to flex my rather flabby writing and creative muscles, and I hope you guys get to read something more entertaining than just long paragraphs of me just being over it. I hope you guys enjoy!
(In an abandoned movie house somewhere. The kind where the floor is sticky, and not from the spilled soda. Three figures walk in. All of them seem to be mad about something.)
Mr. Jay: And there I was pulling stuff out of my ass, trying to make it sound like she was a New York Times-bestselling author! And she does this! This!
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: Well, to be fair, she did get on the New York Times bestseller list.
Mr. Jay: Where the hell are we anyway?
(The guys hear a noise from one of the theater’s many dark corners. Somebody walks out into the light. He looks really, really embarrassed.)
Mr. Jay: Who the hell are you?
Moi: Uhm…the…plot device?
Moi: ANYWAY. You’ve been sent here on a mission. A really important mission. I think. Maybe.
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: Well, what is it then? What mission are we supposed to do?
Moi: READ “MODELLAND” AH AH AH AH AH!!!
Ms. Jay: Bitch, hold my earrings, I’m a whup this bitch’s ass.
(The giant screen flickers slowly to life. The movie house’s doors slam shut, effectively locking in the trio. They cannot get out. They cannot get out.)
Mr. Jay: NO, BITCH.
Ms. Jay: BITCH, NO.
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: Well, might as well sit back and…enjoy? Enjoy, yes, I’ll go with that. Sit back and enjoy it. (takes a seat)
Mr. Jay: FINE.
<Chapter 21: Jammers, Chowers, and Poachers>
<Rubbing her aching forehead, Tookie walked down Beautification Boulevard to her third and last class of the day, Mastication. She touched her Sentura on her hips – the correct Sentura, which she’d found exactly where Zarpessa had said it was: under her bed.>
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: What’s been going on again? I haven’t been keeping abreast of things lately. What’s a Sentura? Who’s Tookie? Who’s Zarpessa? Why have I not been given an opportunity to leer at them from behind the judges’ table?
Mr. Jay: Tookie’s a Tyra stand-in, Zarpessa’s Naomi Campbell and Draco Malfoy’s illegitimate child, and a Senutra gives the Bella’s “modeling” powers.
Mr. Jay: What? I had to read parts of it for that moving fashion editorial that we did for All-Stars!
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: Sure, Jay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.
Mr. Jay: I hate you.
<Tookie finally found the site of the Mastication class. The building was a giant bowl made up of multicolored brick, with a ladle-shaped smokestack poking out the top. As she got closer, Tookie could actually see that the bricks were actually loaves of wheat, white, pumpernickel, and raisin bread. Butter and cream cheese served as grout, beef and chicken kebabs provided additional building support, and the windows seemed effervescent, like they were carbonated. Tookie stuck out her tongue to lick the window.>
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: I stuck out my tongue once to lick. Good times. Good, good times.
Mr. Jay: What the hell were you licking?
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: Never you mind! Look! It seems like the food that makes up the building is charged with electricity! How delightful!
Mr. Jay: Oh I’m sure Tyra’s drawing that from personal experience. About the only time they could get her away from the buffet table was when they pushed her away from it with half a dozen cattle prods.
Mr. Jay: I…shouldn’t have said that.
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: I guess it goes without saying that this class is going to be about eating? I wonder what the Guru will look like? Will it be a girl? Can I leer at her?
<A tall, striking, lovely woman with a round face and brilliant blue eyes burst through two swinging doors at the front of the room. Her legs made an upside-down, bowed-out U, as though she’d just jumped off a horse after a long ride. Her arms were extended, as if she were still holding the reins.>
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: Oh, I see we’ve already met. If you know what I mean. *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: And would you look at that! She’s inspecting their tongues! She can tell what they’ve eaten simply by looking at their tongues! My goodness, I wish I had that ability. Although if a girl’s with me, I pretty much know what she’s eating, eh, eh? *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*
Mr. Jay: Jesus Christ almighty, now there’s four pages of food gorging. Jesus Christ.
<Yes! Tookie grabbed some cans, inverting them and squeezing endless streams of whipped cream into her mouth. Then she did it again and again and again, tossing spent cans to the side and reaching for new ones right away. In no time, her face was covered in cream, her brand-new Modelland uniform slopped with goop, and her arms dripped with dissolved froth.>
<The vats of food tipped over, the contents spilling onto the floor. The Bellas groaned in unison, still unfulfilled. The empty vats rose tot the ceilings and hovered there, and the harnesses released, spilling the girls straight into the food slop. Almost everyone, even Tookie, recoiled at the blended ingredients. Only Zarpessa crawled houndlike on all fours, her head down, scraping the floor to retrieve the vile vittles with her tongue and incisors. It was even crazier than the way she scuttled around in the Dumpster in the restaurant in Peppertown.>
Mr. Jay: And the girls get herded into a cafeteria after all of this?
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: Imaginatively named Eatz, natch.
Mr. Jay: And of course the fat girl’s got eating problems. Because no fat girl really wants their body or is happy with the shape and size of their body. All of them really want to become waif-thin, deep inside.
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: I must say, I never heard these opinions from you while we were on that Top Model show.
Ms. Jay: That’s ‘coz all that product in his hair burned off all of his brain cells.
Mr. Jay: I hate you.
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: And now the girls are ogling the boys from Bestosterone. I think I watched a gay porno like this once.
Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker: What? I was young. I was wild. I was free. And I have to say, you’re looking pretty attractive from where I’m sitting, Mr. Jay.
Mr. Jay: (sobbing) Somebody please get me out of here.