Wednesday TV Recap: Because, really, you need one. You just don't know it.

ANTM: Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

I wonder exactly how many male Tyra Banks impersonators there are? Really? A Google search of that phrase turned up a 2007 call by the Tyra Banks Show for Tyra impersonators. Funny.

One of the wonderful things about watching reality TV like this is really getting to know the deviousness of editors. Seriously, I would have ethical doubts about dating one. But the wonderful "ah-ha" feeling when the whole episode comes to its thrilling conclusion with a TWIST, it's unbeatable. We had a moment like that last night, when we realized that all along they had been priming Kara to take Ashley's place. You always guess that the one who gets the most airtime is going to be eliminated, but this time, oh my gosh, they were practically equals! And then they were both in the bottom two! TWIST.

I really think a reality show editor would take his grandmothers death at her 90th birthday to compose a stunning shocking expose on the perils of inheritance taxes.

(I hate that this Raconteurs song starts off sounding like the Pixies. Then it becomes whiny and yucky. It's like starting to eat an ice cream cone, and finding out it's actually creamy sardines.)

So Kara, being primed for her destiny as Queen of Trashy Indiana, talks all sorts of shit. And Ashley, the Dancing Queen Who Can't Dance, talks some more shit. Then there's this dance challenge, where a bunch of serial killers send a message through pops and locks, that message being "Please, do something worthwhile and artistic with your life." The girls have to create a dance in trios, like little witches, to express three emotions, or they are told they will be turned into Serial Killers too, with Mr. Jay's Fancy Little Permanent Mask Machine. Ashley gets paired with Mena Suvari and Nicole the Awkward, and oh by the way, SHE'S A DANCE TEACHER. But Kara watched her older sister perform nightly at the Silver Fox Lounge in Indianapolis, and works that shit out.

Nicole complains about how she can't change the inflection in her voice. Um. Yes, you can. It's actually one of those things most people can do. Look, I can change the fucking inflections on a keyboard. You can be bothered to put a little effort in that.

Kara asks if she can do a cartwheel? Everyone gets really happy,

Ashley's team loses, because in fact she forgot she taught gym class for kindergartners, not dance. Duh. Ashley's actual charm is in her complete denial of her flaws. She goes back to the house, faced with her incompetence, and immediately lets more shit leak out of her dark organless void, like oil down the back of a poisoned otter floating face down.

Then it's off to Cirque De Soleil, so Jay Manual can play out his fantasy of floating away on a cotillion of beautiful red balloons, never to return. The girls are dressed up like Sarah from The Labyrinth, and then fed slowly one by one to the Giant Snail that is Michael Rosenthal's photographic genius. Laura is so excited to be wearing a sparkly dress, she spontaneously becomes the girl you always wish you saw in the mirror before going to club. It's beautiful. That photo shoot changed her life.

And in the end it changed us all. Because stupid Ashley goes home, and Kara accepts the thorny crown. Nothing will ever be the same. Also, I find it depressing that I can create a Pandora station based off Franz Ferdinand, and they can't play a single song I don't know all the words too. Also, it makes total sense it would be mostly Cake. I can't believe I never saw that before.

On Glee, a bunch of kids get high on over the counter drugs and Dance Their Fucking Asses Off While Being Awesome.

Miracle of all Miracles, there was actually a new Top Chef on. Oh wait, I forgot to mention. How horrible is that new end song ANTM plays when the loser if packing up? Gawd that's bad. Anyway, new Top Chef.

At first there's sadness. Jennifer is sick, and it's like watching a race horse stumble, wondering if it will get shot. The first quickfire, she ends up in the bottom. But to be fair, it was Tyler Florence and a slot machine, so maybe her innate culinary genius wouldn't let her succeed. The contestants had to get three random words (it's a game of threes tonight people), and from that, create some dish over-seasoned enough for even a Food Network star to like. Ashley gets the combination Blue Cheesy Middle Eastern, which she somehow fucking pulls off by making a feta pudding. Robin makes a curry, and calls it Umami Middle Eastern, which is hilarious when Padma Lakshmi, our Indian hostess, points out curry is not Middle Eastern. BURN. Kevin wins and gets a choice to get immunity or lots of money. Of course he picks the money, BECAUSE HE MADE BACON JAM ONCE MOTHERFUCKERS. He doesn't come out and say "shit, Robin and Laurine are still here, I got time", but hey, we know he knew it.

Oh, and apparently, umami means mushrooms, not MSG like I thought. My bad.

Did you know there is something called the Macy's Culinary Council? You know those Macy's commercials where all those stupid celebrities are pimping their shit, and Martha Stewart controls the table settings like that scene in Sleeping Beauty with the dishes, or the mice making the dress in Cinderella? I imagine that Martha is the head of this Culinary Cabal, and that they really do meet at midnight in the kitchen wares sections, deciding the fate of every organic farm on the West Coast.

Anyway, these douchebags (you heard me Nancy Silverton, imagine letting Tyler Florence speak for you! The shame.) all give bags of ingredients to our paired up partners, and they have to cook family style dinners, just like in that commercial!

Jennifer and Kevin get paired, and when they touch, rainbows spring from their fingers. They also get the bag with Kobe beef, and the whole house explodes in a miasma of joy and balance, universal culinary harmony heralding the golden dawn of the playful chef! Tom Colicchio morphs into a silver sparkly unicorn, and bounds away, free of his chains, into the Las Vegas sunset.

Mike I. gets paired with Robin, and and proves the golden rule of meatheads. They are always more stupid and crass and obnoxious then you really can guess. You think you can hang with one for a few days, get drunk, be a little slutty, they're not so bad. WRONG. They totally are. At one point, Mike is running for the kitchen and falls flat on his face. I suspect that will someday sum up his entire life.

While the "dinner guests" sit at their table, all casual and shit, Tyler casually delivers an impromptu memorized press release for Macy's, and Toby Young give him a look that would, if he had any, cut off his balls.

So let's see, Jennifer and Kevin automatically win right? Right.
Mike I., despite his supreme ballsack impression, manages to pull off some decent Asian thing.
Bryan V. makes his halibut polenta thing pretty well.
Mike V. has his power go out while cooking his halibut, and the fish gets overcooked. He might have been screwed, if Ash hadn't admitted he was just his sous chef the whole time, and talked about what a fucking genius he was, giving Mike V. the judge's pity vote. Tyler says something stupid about how chefs have to cook in lots of inconvenient places, so that's no excuse blah blah. Listen, unless you've been giving cooking lessons in the Sudan? Shut the Fuck Up.

Oh, but Ashley and Ely. Ely, as far as I can tell, does nothing in this entire episode except oversalt the damn gnocchi. But does Ashley give him up? Does she scream at the judges "this oversized 12 yr old ruined my dish, which I created entirely because he's incapable of doing anything except jerking off to ironic reruns of Baywatch?" No. No she doesn't. And because in the end Ashley showed herself to be a true professional, she was sent home. Good bye Ashley. I totally underestimated you in the beginning, and for that, and some other things, I apologize.

My favorite commercial of the moment: