America's Next Top Model Cycle 12 Recap: Beware of the Bird

(note: I will eventually post my spectacular soul moving Chicago pics, as soon as they are finished uploading to Flickr, which at the rate they're going should be by sometime next August..)

Once upon a time, in a large metropolis by the sea, a very pretty very old princess was getting cosmopolitan bored. Princess Paulina had once been a great beauty, renown for her wrinkled nose and very curly tail. Now she sat in her gardens sighing, while courtiers pranced around her, vying for her attention. The sad, sad life of a washed up fashion whale was hers, doomed to flounder on the sand, gasping for air, while well meaning commoners doused her with water.

4 travelers came one night to the gates of the city. The Queen, the Prince, the Tin Man, and the Rogue had been wandering the countryside for weeks, searching for the famed Cover Girl Contract of Certain Fame. Apprehended by the royal guards, they were brought before the Princess Paulina, who clapped and laughed with joy at the prospect of new entertainment, as she had tired of imitating strange fey English men. Her handmaids held the prisoners down, and dressed them in garish flounces and ribbons. The Princess then brought out her favorite pet, a large black bear by the name Fernando, who had once hunted on the slopes of Siberia, who had once drank the waters of the mighty Volga, and who now in his captured senility danced an awkward samba with our terrified heroes.

One by one the bear paraded them around the great hall/rooftop. First the Tin Man, whose joints screamed for oil and love, but the cries fell on deaf royal ears. The Queen persevered, knowing that true royal blood can handle any task, and not even a bear’s hot breath can melt a truly cool exterior. She glided and smiled, twirled and plotted. The Princess glared, jealous of her true grace, and declared “desperation is not sexy”. Next came the Prince, awkward, plain, and stumble-footed. Dancing was clearly not his forte. Oh but the Rogue! The Rogue had fought her way through dancehalls before, and as she enchanted the court, she slyly picked the pocket of several fictional cameramen.
The Princess, having snarked to her fill, threw the travelers into the great Condo Lofts of Doom, a terrible plastic place, perpetually enrobed in gloom. The party diligently practiced their best jester routines, or as the Rogue referred to it, their “chiki chiki tooming”. But just as exhaustion and corns were beginning to overtake them, an ominous missal appeared from the heavens, bearing the alien crest of their homeland The Federated States of Weird Flags as if to taunt them. A riddle! They were to “pushed out of the nest”! No one slept in that terrible place that night.

The next morning (though it remained darkest night over the Towering Condos) the brave foursome were hogtied and driven in an evil smelling van to the Vast Feral Forest. The Prince recalled various legends placing this as the home of a Wild Haired Wild Eyed Woman, who devoured young girls and sucked on their bones to build her sets. And sure enough, not 3 parsecs from the middle of nowhere, the Wild Haired Wild Eyed Woman blocked their path, her legs crossed to her shoulders, her eyes of glass gleaming black. She stared them down, contemplating their fate, as they sat idling in the humidity. Finally, a slow smile spread across her oil slicked face. The travelers shook to their well heeled toes.

First she took the Tin Man. The Tin Man had resolved to have a heart, to be brave as he left, and set a good example for the others left behind. He hardly trembled at all as the forest witch covered him with chicken feathers and threw him into a giant nest. It was the nest of a Giant Condor, and he was to be dinner for its young ones. But the little monsters took one look at the unappealing metal, one nip at an unprotected elbow, and promptly threw him out.

Next the Rogue volunteered, certain she could slay whatever evil lay wait. She blended into the shadows of the nest, and rearranged her hair to look like twigs, and the stupid birds didn’t even see her.

The Frustrated Witch shook with anger, and roughly grabbed the Queen, who merely sat in the corner of the nest and looked kindly but firmly at the baby condors. Within the course of fifteen minutes, she had taught them how to distinguish a salad fork from a tuning fork, and which way the world turns in a leap year.

Finally, came the Prince, willingly. He longed to be done with his impossible journey, and lay complacently within the prickly walls of the nest, awaiting his fate. Unfortunately, this is a charmed Prince, the Prince of our story, and nothing bad can happen to him, no matter what he does or fails to do. As the Prince lay there waiting to be devoured, the mother Condor came swooping down. For a long moment, it seemed as if his eyeballs were destined to be jellied candies down the avian gullet, and really, no worse for the world. But the gracious, heroic Queen, aware that no royalty would fail to sacrifice itself for its people, threw herself across the path of the giant bird, and was carried away in it vicious talons. The Rogue, with no further thought for the sacrificed Queen, quickly took the opportunity to steal away into forest, and the cowering Prince and hesitant Tin Man followed suit.

The Tin Man knew though, as he followed those two into the dense vines, that his time would soon come. He knew they would soon require a boat or a weapon or a mirror, and would fall upon him as desperate selfish people do. The Queen, his only true protection, was gone…and the can opener awaited.

To be continued….

A Promise

I, Bridget Callahan, do solemnly swear to not touch the internets till at the very least 5/5, since there are better things to do in Chicago than twittering, including but not limited to:

-documenting the destruction of Gary
-marveling at a river that flows away from the giant lake
-looking for giant river otters in said dirty swath of toxic hydrogen
-contemplating the blisters on my heels and how they resemble a constellation of pain
-watching my sister do stand up comedy in a comic book store* (This Sunday, 7pm, Comics and Tonic), and feeling old and uninspired, in a good proud way.
-avoiding pizza
-celebrating International Workers Day by getting wasted with some activisty types I don't know. Huzzah!

*this is probably not really a comic book store, but SHOULD be.

America's Next Top Model Cycle 12: Redonkalous

A List of Things that Have Entertained Me Over the Last 24 Hours:

1. Arlen Spector. (not related, but still, at the top of the list)
2. Pho saying she does everything half-assed, including high school. Cause, see, she's a half ass. Or half pint. Half ounce. Whatever.

Oh the GO-SEE episode. The bane of every season, until these plucky little minxes hit the San Paulo scene. I think last night was the first time I have ever seen anyone employ a viable strategy for getting to her go-sees. Like, you know, planning your route. Or WALKING.

3. Aminat: "redonkalous"
4. Succubusses.
5. Teyonna walking out every time another girl was already there. Which was at least three times, maybe four.

Why did it seem like none of the Brazilian designers were from Brazil? Also, why did they all design the stupidest baggiest looking clothing ever? Rainbow colored bags. White bags. Brown bags. Beribboned bags. ALSO why were they all so unimpressed with America's beauties?

6. Pho is too short to do anything ever. She is a midget, a pygmy, a throwback of evolution. Oh wait, she's 5'7".
7. Aminat: "Cause I'm african and I'm never on time."

Teyonna won a lot of hideous clothing. Good for her. It will go with her hideous head.

8. Nigel made SURE he got the bathing suit shoot this year. But keeps his hands held laughably high every time he hugs the models. I'm convinced Nigel is a womanizer.
9. Jay actually wore normal clothes for a change.

Everyone's butts were blurred out, and Pho did so bad, so marionette from the dead bad, that it begs the question "is Pho not used to drinking?" Aminat was, as always, a drugged out ostrich on the planes of non-existence. Teyonna hunched like a gargoyle, her best picture turned out to be her hunched over the fat man, chewing his intestines. Allison emerged as the little milkmaid from the hot Brazilian flesh jungle, like a breath of air conditioning.

10. Every time Tyra gets a new wig, she gets a little more coocoo for coco puffs.
11. I am not wearing a medical mask. Dopes.
12. Allison is so ungraceful, she actually couldn't make it back to the dais during judgement. Miss Jay had to utilize his bow tie as a stretcher, to make sure she didn't break anything.

It's been devil hot the past three days. I felt cheated out of spring, until my hair stylist informed me that the rest of the week is supposed to be 60 and raining, which will be spectacular. Ashley's birthday party was fun last night. I particularly liked the salesman who's been to most of Asia, and I pestered him for 30 minutes, which is a long time to monopolize someone at a party but also he told me that the governments have been leveling the Smoky Mountains computer trash dumps/wall/slums. I went into a catatonic state from the disappointment of never fulfilling my dream to visit the piles of monitors, and all I remember is coming to in an ice bath, with a bandage on my torso, after which I passed out again. Then somehow it was 5am and we were just driving home. I slept for a few hours, woke up at 9am, then somewhere between sucking down juice and watching Gilmore Girls, I remembered to get my hair cut. Also remembered to get Carrie's birthday present. It was like it just clicked in my head that I have to be ready to leave Friday. Speaking of, how much does it suck when you finally get around to buying a Megabus ticket, which is like 40 dollars because it's the week of? Stupid.

I've seriously been shorted out by the heat. My processor is melted.

Beef Curry

Yes, I know it's cliche to take pictures of the sky all the time. But if you only knew how many times I sat in the backseat of my parents' car, wishing I could somehow make a dress those colors. I'm in awe of anyone who can convincingly paint light. And since my particular art skills will always fall under the crafty, not classical, I forgive myself. Lately my mind set has been vacillating between unthinking bland zombie dark insideness, and unthinking zombie happy outside lightness.

In case you didn't get the memo from one of your friends*, on Wednesday Popeye's Chicken had a special. 8 pieces for 4.99. Here is the resulting chaos. It was certainly an interesting way to celebrate Earth Day; chicken slaughtering and car idling. Speaking of zombies....

Those cars are not parked. That's the drive thru line.


Last night I went over Jays for Thai night, which has increasingly become a monthly thing. Instead of just me and Jay, we ended up with me and Jay and Kelly and Debra and Andrew and Lori and her son. You know, 7. Lucky for me, curry is the ultimate family style dinner. Saying curry and family in the same sentence is redundant.


I was not a big fan of the green curry dish I made a while ago, so I was a little scared about how this would turn out. Jay made coconut fried rice, which was SO good, it was practically dessert. And I'm pretty happy about how this turned out. I think I might make it a bit spicier if I was certain of my diners. But I'm getting the picture that anytime you combine coconut milk, sugar, garlic and fish sauce, it's going to be pretty fantastic. It kinda makes me feel like a kindergartner since most of Asia has known this since they were 2. But it's a happy kind of ignorance.

After dinner, we played Apples to Apples, and I got way too competitive with a very precocious 13 yr old. Wine and word games make me in it to win it people. Also, if anybody is ever interested in putting some money down....

Oh, and it's official, my phone is more ghetto than Kelly's. My monochrome screen put me over the top.

Beef Curry

note: I'm giving you the exact proportions I used, and you can see how much that made. So feel free to cut this in half. If you don't have a friend that rocks at making rice, serve it with jasmine rice. Buy yourself a rice maker. You know, half the world has one of those.

- 2 lbs lean beef cut into either chunks or strips

- 2 red bell peppers, chopped

- 1 pd sliced mushrooms

- 1/2 cup chopped basil

- 1 can coconut milk

- 2 tbsp fish sauce

- 2 tbsp red curry paste

- 2 tbsp brown sugar

- 2 tbsp minced garlic

- vegetable oil

In a wok, brown the beef in batches (fun!) using the vegetable oil and garlic, on high heat. Once cooked, but not overcooked, remove from heat.

Throw in the peppers and mushrooms. I sprinkled them with chili oil. Cook until softened.

Add the milk, sugar, paste, fish sauce, and basil. Stir to mix. Stir again just to be sure those chunks of curry paste don't end up in someones mouthful.

Then add the beef again and allow the dish to get warmed up before serving. Voila.

*No one who is your real friend would ever tell you about this.

Yesterday, in my long trek through the copy/paste netherworlds, I had the opportunity to listen to a lot of albums I hadn't heard in a long time. Mostly because they were the ones in my car. Albums go to die in my car.

Best Find? The Books - Thought for Food. Except for the super gross track at the end which is not appropriate for headphone wear.

Of course there were the inevitable long lost Strokes album, Built To Spill, and the first Decemberists album which has my birthday song on it. The Xanadu soundtrack.

Today, I'm trying out Calvin Harris I Created Disco, cause Jose said to. But guys, please send me along some new ideas. I've got three more days to go here. There's 8 hours in a day. Allowing for lunch, phone calls, and the inevitable emergency, that's still a lot of time that I can't spend listening to Queen over and over again. I'm looking for poppie, dancie, indie, not stupid music. That I don't know the words too, so I won't get caught singing. Again.

America's Next Top Model Cycle 12 Recap: The Earth Day Episode

Brazil used to have the highest rate of deforestation in the world. In 2007, thanks to conservation efforts, they cut that rate by 52%.

And on ANTM, we too have reached the halfway mark. What better country to fly the girls to than the cradle of the Amazon, the very pit of humanity vs. Nature? Since this show is basically the same battle. Of course, they won't be trekking in the jungle. But there are still piranhas to watch out for. Namely, rich white girls from California.

This week was really Natalie's shining moment. Here are a few choice quotes from her:

Beginning of the episode, referring to their new home: "This is Brazil, we know it's going to be awesome." Cause Brazil is known for its "awesome" housing.

Later, having seen the house, the Botanical Gardens, and the Girl from Ipanema: "I haven't seen anything special in Brazil." Stupid other countries looking exactly like Palo Alto.

Later still, during the photo shoot, complaining about the locale: "this isn't a good area. It's a poor area." Goodness, she even had to deal with a stray dog! The indignity!

So Natalie seemed to think that Brazil, known for its roving gangs of feral children, rampant police brutality, and extensive slums, was going to be one big romp through sexy South America. Oh Natalie. They should abandon you in the countryside for a few days, for your own good.

Otherwise, the episode was pretty standard. The girls had to run, yell at taxi drivers, fake fight each other with martial arts moves learned minutes before, and pose like drag queen Carmen Mirandas, in a (I think) tasteless homage to the Chiquita banana industry that has raped the countryside. Of course, no one knew who Carmen Miranda was. Oh, and Celia roundhoused Aminat in the head, which was fun. Jay Manuel referred to the "favela" as "neighborhood originally built by the poor" which is the nicest way of saying shanty town I've ever heard.

Natalie's picture of an angry Carmen Miranda slumped on a doorstep waiting for her next customer got her sent home. Aminat somehow stays, which means she had better be gone next week, because I cannot listen to her voice anymore. Allison won the photo shoot by looking least like a hooker and more like a nightclub floozie. Pho came in second, and actually CURTSIED to Tyra. Ice queen Celia melted.

And in the end, I was not satisfied, and was even more angsty when there was no new Lost. So the lesson here is that summer has come and I need to go outside more. And never wear fruit on my head. And probably shut off my cable.

In other news, I've been doing data entry at work for the past few days, helping them get caught up, and it's drained me. My head is full of point click point click point click. I also can't get twitter at work anymore. It's like the universe is conspiring to get me a little more disconnected. It's working.

Let's Egg Tim Hagan's Car

I mean, okay, not really. I'm not promoting the idea of wanton vandalism. Just...mentioning it.



Today the air was a Belle and Sebastian song. Specifically, from If You're Feeling Sinister.



Homework: List the ways in which watching UFC and going out dancing are similar.

a)You are watching people.
b)You are watching certain people do very stupid things.
c)You yell loudly at people when they don't do what you want or when they do exactly what you want.

Perhaps that last one is just me.



We did the blind taste test from Beer Wars tonight. We poured unmarked cups of Miller, Budweiser, and Coors, and tried to identify them each. I was the only one who got them all right. It was the smell that differentiated them. Budweiser smells full,like backyard. Miller smells like bowling. Coors smells like aluminum can, the chemicals in blunt shells, and water. They all tasted exactly the same though. It's pretty sobering.

Beer Wars

Last night a few friends and I caught the screening of Beer Wars at Valleyview, a documentary that chronicles the barriers facing micro-brewers trying to compete against the corporate brands. Really though, the ultimate message was “Anheuser Busch has taken over the world and you are all screwed.”

The audience itself was worth the trip. This was, unfortunately, a one time showing, and the people who paid 15 bucks for it were excited and loud. One guy kept trying to make the film interactive by starting shout outs of beer names, Arrogant Bastard being the favorite. And as we left, the clinking of empty bottles was very clear. It was a good thing for us they added to the experience, since we found out after buying our tickets that the damn thing was showing on On Demand that night too, so we could have been watching it at home for a quarter of the price, while drinking ourselves.

It was a great film. The characters ranged from scrappy to pretentious, pathetic to ambitious. The danger with films like this, that are celebrations of artisan niches and creative ideas, is that they become flat and uninteresting as actual movies. But the director, Anat Baron, does a great job of showing the highlights and lowlights of the industry. Sam from Dogfish Head comes across as the hero, affable, intelligent, ambitious, but determined to never be cut-throat. Greg from Stone IPA is off-putting, overly philosophical and just a bit too serious about it, but with a slight aftertaste of friendliness. And we got to meet Rhonda, the marketing brain behind the success of Sam Adams, who quit the company to try and market Moonshot, a light beer with caffeine that no one wants to invest in, and who desperately tries to sell the idea to anyone she can including Big Evil Anheuser Busch. Anat Baron handles the complexity of these people and their dreams with a light handed objectivity. She’s neither too understanding nor too harsh. The narrative moves smoothly between their lives and the effect on them of the current regulatory systems, delving at the end into the political steaminess with a trip through the beer lobby experience,

But the real revelation for at least my segment of the viewing audience was the complete and total domination of the beer industry by Anheuser Busch. I mean, we’re not entirely ignorant. We knew, coming into the movie, that they were the biggest. I don’t think any of us understand the exact extent though, and this is the movie’s best most memorable point. Anheuser Busch holds approx 50% of the domestic market share in this country. There’s a visual the film uses again and again of a supermarket aisle of beer, which is meant to illustrate how companies battle for placement. They employ it throughout to demonstrate brands that AB is buying up. And there was an audible gasp from the audience when, towards the end, we saw the current total. Here, let me show you.

Anheuser Busch brews, imports, or distributes:

- all Budweiser (11 products)
- all Michelob (15 products)
- all Busch (3)
- all Rolling Rock (3)
- Natural Ice and Light
- 12 specialty brews of their own (the only one I recognize on our shelves is Landshark, which SUCKS.)
- 4 seasonal brews, including their rip-off pumpkin ale
- O’Douls
- Bacardi Silver
- Tequiza
- Hurricane
- King Cobra
- Red Hook Brewing
- Goose Island Brewing
- Kona Brewing
- Ray Hill American Pilsner
- Starr Hill Brewing
- Fordham Brewing
- Dominion Brewing
- Harbin Lager
- Tiger Beer
- Kirin Brewery
- Bass Ale
- Boddingtons
- Beck's
- Hoegaarden Brewery
- Leffe
- Stella Artois
- Löwenbräu
- Tennent's Ale
- Budvar Czechvar
- AND Monster Energy drinks.

So yeah, that’s practically a whole store by itself.

It was an enlightening movie, and the live panel discussion afterwards was entertaining. My favorite panelist was the beer historian, Maureen Ogle. Her basic take was “Yeah well, they’re going keep growing, buying brands, and stealing your ideas, that’s what corporations do”, and to laugh when the guys from Stone and Dogfish were all like “we don’t want to be the big guys.” Oh Sam, I think the 9 million dollar loan you mentioned again and again means you probably do want to keep growing.

The thing you should come away from this movie with is that not allowing small breweries to self-distribute is a bad thing, the three tier system is a bad thing, and AB is a monopoly. My one complaint is that they focused so much on “it’s the taste, it’s the individuality, it’s the love” instead of “these are unfair laws that should be changed.” Just because it’s a microbrew doesn’t mean it’s worth spending 12.99 a six pack on. However they should all have an equal chance to get into the market. Baron tried to make a point during the panel discussion that we should vote with our wallets, and show the distribution companies what we want. She's wrong, that won't fix the real problem. I mean, I know several pretty frequent beer drinkers. When they're at a bar or going to a party, they buy microbrews. But when they're buying beer to drink at home, they're buying based off price. You don't buy a 24 pack of Arrogant Bastard (can you imagine!), because at some point you have to pay rent. The only real solution here is to fight the legislation that's forcing these breweries to sell out for distribution.

And if you’re wondering what I’m talking about, go watch the movie. I believe it's On Demand.

America's Next Top Model Cycle 12 Recap: The Taxman Only Knocks Once

Alright, I have sat here for like fifteen minutes trying to figure out a way to write about ANTM as related to Tax Day. But I'll be honest. I totally forgot about April 15th, until my Twitter was overtwitten with the mention of Teabaggers. So thank you Teabaggers. Because of you, I paid my socialist dues on time.



The Urban Dictionary defines Teabagger for you, several times. The most comprehensive is this:

teabagger
multiple meanings. 1) one who carries large bags of packaged tea for shipment. 2) a man that squats on top of a womens face and lowers his genitals into her mouth during sex, known as "teabagging" 3) one who has a job or talent that is low in social status 4) a person who is unaware that they have said or done something foolish, childlike, noobish, lame, or inconvenient. 5) also see "fagbag", "lamer", "noob"

I do look askance at "fagbag", I'm not entirely sure what that means.

Now that that's clear, let's talk Model.

Allison starts the episode by lamenting her lack of distortion, much like Glenn Beck should be lamenting his inability to use the word patriot without crying, or his inability to do a wheelie. Celia recommends she think about sex. And we're off. Or Celia is anyway.

I think the subtle differences in this cycle of ANTM are important to note, because of what they denote for the future. 1. All those billboards of Tyra are crazy retouched. Like, uncomfortably so. 2. All the pictures in the opening credits are of Tyra acting like she's a photographer, instead of the contestants. 3. Tyra delivers her mail in a locked silver box. Every time they open it, I keep hoping it's going to be a severed hand or something.

London turns out to be actually crazy, like crazy enough to use Teabagger as the name for your totally spontaneous organic fungi-like grassroots organization sponsored by Fox News. Yes, that's right, I called her crazy for believing in god. Cause let me tell you, if you tell me god is the reason you're on ANTM, wearing shorts and selling headbands, I think you should probably not be allowed to have children. I think you belong on a street corner.

Jay Manuel gets all #3 bitter, like "yo motherfuckers APPRECIATE me" and makes the girls be Creative Directors for a day. Natalie promptly makes a black girl look like a hooker.

Allison proves to everyone she should probably have a job that requires a bit more brain power. Teyonna proves she has probably just enough.

London makes Allison look like London, hoping Jay will mistake her for the real thing and pull Allison aside instead to tell her she's too fat to be a model.

Aminat gets all #4. See above.

Then the girls go to bed, and when they wake up, Jay Manuel is still getting bitter and showing up at their house at 5:30am with coffee only for himself. Ciara gets released from her special cave inside Jay Z's headquarters, and Pho (she of the Clay=genius fame) is once again all "She's an icon!" leading me to wonder if Pho has 2 dads. Oh, the girls are going to pose with Ciara, a singer, but wait they're going to pose for a photograph. Where no one can hear her when she opens her mouth. Smart boy, Jay.

One by one the models are fed to Ciara intravenously. One by one they assimilated. I'm sorry, am I not being clear? London looks like a Borg.

During a commercial break we learn that ex-ANTM girl Bree is now a spokesperson for something called Drop Dead Gorgeous, also known as "The worst name for an anti-child sex trafficking organization ever."

Finally it's panel. Miss Jay teabags Pauline. Tyra teabags Nigel. London complains that God is testing her, and then it's announced they're all being sold into slavery in Brazil, except for London who is pregnant by immaculate conception.

And then God, in celebration, made it rain on all the strange people covered in teabags, and NRA meetings smelled like Earl Grey for the next month.