Bunch of People Who Like to Think They Are The World

Well, this was bound to happen. And I was bound to have something to say about it. And what I have to say about it is perhaps predictable and has probably already been said, though maybe not, as I feel people are often more hesitant when criticizing "good intentions," but who knows. Let's get on with it.

The 25th Anniversary rendition of Michael Jackson's charitable musical collaboration, "We Are the World," was unveiled to the masses after the opening ceremony of the Vancouver Olympics and left me feeling disheartened at the blatant exploitation of a nation's tragedy to try and reinforce the illusion of cultural and cosmic significance felt by members of an ailing industry, but really served as a testament to the depressing state of said industry and revealed their narcissism and exposed their lack of potential for longevity.

Let me break that down so I don't sound like the pretentious fuck that I ultimately admit to being: The remake sucked. The calibre of the artists who participated in it, for the most part, pale in comparison to the original roster of musicians. Nobody can honestly say that Lil Wayne is as talented or culturally significant as Billy Joel, that Miley Cyrus is as vocally capable as Tina Turner, that Jamie Foxx is as musically charming as Stevie Wonder. Yet by participating in a remake of the original they place themselves on an even-playing field and almost assert a challenge that they can do it better. That they can somehow make it contemporary and more accessible and enjoyable for a 22nd century audience. Sorry Justin Bieber but your overly produced auto-tuned nightmare of an opening is just not cutting it.

And stop trying to make Nicole from the Pussycat Dolls happen. She's NOT, going to happen.

By blanketing it as a charitable gesture, they make it controversial to question their intentions. But sincerity, I feel, (again, for the most part) is not among said intentions. Perpetuating the celebrity industrial complex for these meritless entertainers by associating them with Michael Jackson's hit seems to be the underlying intention in my opinion. And it's an attempt to claim lasting cultural significance for a group of entertainers whose longevity and significance is questionable if existent in the first place.

In addition to manipulating the disaster in Haiti for their shameless self-promotion, they're manipulating Michael Jackson's image and influence by aligning themselves with it. Many of the people involved in the remake have made confident claims that this is what he would have wanted and this is what he would have done. It's easy to speak for the dead because they can't speak for themselves. And given the history of manipulation that Michael Jackson as a cultural figure has notoriously had perpetrated against him, I take all claims of understanding of his intention and posthumous wishes with a grain of salt. And let's be real, that editing job of Janet's face across the screen was creepy as shit. Plus did anyone even hear a harmony in there or was she just tagging along with him?

I'll level with fans of the remake though in saying that J Hud always does bring tears to my eyes and this was no exception. I'll also say that though I prefer Cyndi Lauper's distinctive shriek, my girl Celine really let it rip on that part quite well. But come on it's fucking Celine Dion is she really gonna let us down?

Conclusively, on a collaboration that's supposed to serve as a barometer of the current state of the musical industry and include a representation of the best of the best in pop cultural figures, the absence of Jay-Z, Lady GaGa, Beyonce, Rihanna, and more was notable to say the least, and when several of those artists were vocal in their declining of the invitation to the project, you have to wonder why. Though after seeing the result, it's not so hard to figure it out.

Way to Make Me Feel a Fool For Hating on Sandy HFPA

For those of you who would criticize, I would like to make it perfectly clear that I know the Golden Globes were on Sunday, and that the three days that have lapsed between then and now are constituted as an eternity in internet time. Regardless, I have a couple of things to say about the ceremony, and apologize for any potential redundancy.

I was actually on a plane for the majority of the festivities so I missed most of it all happening in real time and was informed of a lot of the awards via text message from loyal friends and fellow cinematic enthusiasts. Believe me when I say I am eternally grateful to them for this service and believe me when I say I was visibly stressed about missing it on television to the point that I drew several concerned glances as I tapped nervously on my suitcase, annoyed that every bar in the airport was broadcasting the goddamn Jets game (congrats to THEIR fans though).

Because of the fact that I found out about the awards either like that or from reading the blogs when I got home late Sunday night, this won’t necessarily be in the order that the awards were given out. I’m also only going to talk about the movies, because much of the TV I don’t watch. I will just say Michael C. Hall made me cry like a baby. But let’s get into the meat of it all shall we?
Ricky Gervais’s humor can be an acquired one, but I found him to be well-received in a setting unfamiliar to a host role and I loved his jab at Angie and Mel Gibson in particular. Basically I think nobody should be allowed to host award shows anymore that isn’t him or NPH. In conclusion for that vein, love the host, keep it coming HFP, two thumbs up indeed.

Without a doubt the Hollywood Foreign Press and The Academy make a wise choice in its placement of Best Actress in a Supporting Role as the first award of the night. It’s one that most viewers care about, rather than something like screenplay or technical awards, but it isn’t positioning things to peak too soon. It also tends to be awarded to an actress who is disproportionately grateful for it compared to other recipients of the awards because she and her career, at some point, weren’t necessarily regarded with such prestige.

Mo’nique is a classic example. If you had told me this time last year that Mo’nique would become a Golden Globe winner in the next year and would be a strong Oscar frontrunner, I would have guffawed in your face. I don’t know what that would have looked like but I would have done it. Mo’nique in her speech just killed me. Really. Thank God I didn’t watch the thing live. I would have just died. My friend texts me saying, “Mo’nique for Best Supporting Actress. You would be weeping right now.” Yeah. No shit!

Plus the girl looked great in her strapless beige dress, better than the rest of the army of actresses who rocked this year’s excessively represented flesh-toned look (Nicole Kidman looked like she ripped off her bed sheets and turned them into some Grecian disaster). Her speech was earnest and moving and emotionally packed, setting a great precedent for the evening.

Christoph Waltz was a shoe-in and will win an Oscar. The man was brilliant in Inglorious Basterds. RDJ for Sherlock Holmes I’m okay with, though I was rooting for Joseph Gordon Levitt, who is incomprehensibly adorable. I haven’t seen Holmes yet though. When I do I’m certain that between RDJ and Jude Law I’ll need to bring an extra pair of pants for the inevitable load I’ll blow everywhere. Tasteless, I know. Moving on.

I have yet to see Crazy Heart, though I heard that Jeff Bridges was exceptional in it, and when it does play here I will without a doubt see it cause it’s got my girl Maggie Gyllenhal. Plus having seen all the other performances I’ll say his only serious competition would have been Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela or maybe Colin Firth, if you didn’t fall asleep in the excessively lugubrious A Single Man.

Now the part that I’ve been dreading. Sandra Goddamn Bullock for The Blind Side. When I got this text letting me know of this appalling news I called my friend as to verify that this was not sort of sick and offensive joke she was playing on me. But alas, Sandra Bullock is a Golden Globe-winning actress. Initially I was irrationally annoyed at this, but then I had to stop and think, “Okay, well, so is Madonna.” And my perspective was regained.

But so help me god if I live to see the day that Sandra Bullock is an Academy Award winning actress. I mean, she’s funny, she’s cute, and she’s a powerful woman in Hollywood. But I regard her as possessing the acting chops of Jennifer Aniston without the tabloid drama. And I very sincerely hope I never see the day where critics are speculating Oscar potential for Jennifer Aniston.

Her speech though was humble and did give her points in my book, certainly not enough points though for me to forget she won over the allegedly exceptional Carey Mulligan in An Education, Emily Blunt in The Young Victoria (who didn’t seem to hide her disdain at her loss), and the promising novice Gabby Sidibe for Precious (LOVE her!). I’m hoping that Meryl’s able to sweep up the lead actress statuette for Julie and Julia, which was another non-surprise of the evening.

I have nothing to say on The Hangover winning Best Picture Comedy/Musical as I, embarrassingly, still haven’t seen it. I do know that Nora Ephron made a move as contrived as her scripts in ostensibly ripping up her acceptance speech as its victory was announced. Sorry Nora. Maybe make something with less irritatingly blatant messages and cheesy scores.

Last but not least, the astronomically worth-accruing beast of a film, Avatar. Again, I am one of the last people in America who still hasn’t seen it. Recently I was called out by a coworker for being a movie snob who doesn’t go into a movie without a preconceived opinion and confirmation bias to prove.

Therefore, I will say this: It is difficult for me to imagine a movie made as artfully and skillfully as Kathryn Bigelow’s The Hurt Locker that is pertinent to the present, but inclusive of universalist themes, while showing a nuanced representation of a population that does not fall back on clichés of demonization or glorification. Though, I will see Avatar, probably within the next week, and will inform the masses if my mind is changed by the viewing, though I will admit, that at this point, I am dubious at the potential for an attitude adjustment.

Final thought: I'm with Brooks Barnes in thinking that Fantastic Mr. Fox should have been more seriously considered as I found it to be superior to Up.

Sandra Bollocks: Or Why I Hate "The Blind Side"

Living in the south has put me into an environment where viewers are responding with particularly strong fervor to this trite, watered down inspirational sport flick which has, admittedly, bolstered my disdain for its relatively high regard. "The Blind Side," for anyone living under a rock, is the "true story" of All American Football player Michael Oher and his journey from homelessness to the NFL through the help of Leigh Anne Tuohy, a wealthy mother and interior designer with the drive of Christian charity and semblances of white guilt.

Though I admit to be a little late on the boat with this post, I haven't written anything on here in awhile and have found myself increasingly frustrated with the amount of times I have had to explain to people that "The Performance of Her Career" is hardly a momentous superlative when you're referring to an actress whose career highlights include "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" and who brought us great franchise flicks such as "Speed" and "Miss Congeniality." To be frank one of the most excruciating parts of all of it is that her southern accent is probably the only variation on the quirky but assertive woman role that Bullock has shown us time and time again and it was probably the worst attempt at a twang I've heard since Julia Roberts in "Steel Magnolias."

In the film, Michael is able to attend a private, Christian high school with influence from the school's football coach, who sees a promising athletic potential from Michael's above-average build. Michael is depicted as struggling in the new academic setting, as his educational experience before his attending the school was faulty if not lacking entirely. Born into an environment tainted with a crack-addicted mother, a neighborhood sustaining itself largely on welfare or crime, the odds are heavily painted against him. Though as I'll mention later these portrayals are more watered-down caricatures of a reality most fans of this flick could not handle.

After a school atheltic event where Michael is portrayed as picking up after the gym to retrieve scraps of popcorn and any other leftovers, Tuohy insists to her husband that they bring him home, like a lost puppy in need of a loving home and family. The Tuohy's grow close to Michael and begin to appreciate and treat him as a member of their family and his "protective intuitions" are illustarted as beging particularly valuable to them.

As the film progresses Michael's atheltic prowess is harnessed and perfected, with the help of fast-talking, straight-shooting Leigh Anne, and he becomes the school's star football player and a top recruit for many colleges.

If you haven't noticed yet, this post is packed with plot spoilers aplenty. But the film in itself is a plot spoiler, in that, as A.O. Scott put it, it is "a movie made up almost entirely of turning points yet curiously devoid of drama or suspense." It's structured with this large conflict, quick resolution formula that is reflective of another trend I noticed in the plot of coddling its, majority white, viewers from any harsh realities of urban poverty, systemic inequalities, or human suffering. The film bolsters the incorrect attitude that isolated acts of charity are a sustainable and inspirational means at creating social change.

It also demonstrates the point that the only way for poor, urban, black children to succeed in our stratified society is for them to be taken under the wing of the white majority and to adapt to the dominant culture. And they will only be successful in doing so if they show an interest and talent in the athletic arena, highlighting the theory by Michigan State sociologist Ronald E. Hall in his essay, "The Ball Curve: Calculated Racism and the Stereotype of African American Men." Protective instincts? Athletic exception? Is this a person we're referring to or a golden retriever?

When I've discussed this criticism of the film's inspirational message being contingent on an attitude embedded in racism people have told me that that is the reality of the situation and that that gives the film a higher degree of merit because of its relation to truth. Whether or not that is the case is disputable but if it is then I don't find it to be inspirational I find it to be more depressing than anything. And it furthers the point that the film is designed for white viewers to distance themselves from their position of privilege by making them think that this isolated act is a groundbreaking tale of the possibility for goodness.

Though some people have tried to convince me that my disdain for this film comes from my inability to appreciate sports dramas I can just say that when John Lee Hancock made a less superficially offensive sports drama that I, in the right mood, could cry upon viewing, "Remember the Titans," I appreciated it for what it was and did not dispute its value as an inspirational story dealing with issues of race, athletics, integration, etc. But "The Blind Side" is a story too pat and unwarrantedly acclaimed to ever give me any reaction aside from distaste and boredom.

Project Mayhem

This Thursday the finale of the initially controversial Season 6 of Project Runway will be on my TV on the Lifetime Network, but I will be watching it not with eager anticipation as I have runway shows in the past, but merely out of devotion to the concept of the show and the inspiration and art that I've seen it is capable of harnessing. This season though, has indisputably disappointed me and all runway viewers with whom I've discussed it, and I hope that, as promised by Nina Garcia, Season 7 will have rectified the errors that have made this season so dull and uninspiring.

To start, the most commonly noted shortcomings of this season have been the inconsistency of the judging panels and the lackluster results from challenges coming from the lackluster nature of the challenges themselves. Sensible explanations have been given for the issue of the judges but mostly the problem was the show's relocation to Los Angeles made it difficult for Michael Kors and Nina Garcia to regularly attend judging panels, as their primary businesses are located in New York. Frankly, I'm not sure why they moved the show in the first place. If we learned anything from the snooze-fest that was the 2008 VMA's, it's that things are always better in NY than in LA, and that goes for reality television both competition based and otherwise. Season 7's in NY, so check on that problem.

In terms of the challenges, to me, the only ones that demanded the exceptional creativity demonstrated in seasons past were the newspaper challenge and (MAYBE) the divorcee wedding dress challenge. Literally every other challenge could have been shortened to be, "Make a pretty dress," and then you through the Bob Mackie at them and tell them it has to be sequined and fabulously tacky, and you get that slick feathered black number that Carrol Hannah made, like, come on, to use the lexicon of the show, it felt a little safe for the challenge.

But that seemed to be what the producers and the judges were going for throughout the season. The designers who seemed to have a particularly innovative or experimental aesthetic were very quickly auf'ed and we were left with a bunch of vanilla collections you could most successfully market at Target.

Irina, Althea and Carol Hannah, what do they have in common? They're all designers who are going to Bryant Park who if cast in a different season never would have stood a chance. Irina at least gave the editors a storyline to work with by positioning her as the bitch. But that really got tired when you realized her bitchiness was generally harmless and reserved for the interview room. This feels a good place to transition from the mass market stylings of this season to the personalities and the judges' and editors' reactions to them.

Did anyone for a minute believe that there was any potential romance between Carol Hannah and "man's man" Logan? No. Didn't think so. Go out and change the tires on your pick-up man's man and stop making monstrously tasteless or inexpressibly bland looks that you somehow get away with even over more talented designers. Plus the fact that they played that up so much while having ignored homo-relationships in past seasons demonstrates the show's latent and perhaps unexpected heteronormativity.

Next thing, WHAT THE FUCK IS HEIDI'S BEEF WITH GORDANA?! Yeah, okay, what she made for the Christina Aguilera/Bob Mackie challenge was a bit of an embarrassment construction wise, but it was hardly the most mortifying of the season and did not warrant the berating she received from Frau Klum, plus the undercutting Gordana got when she was announced the winner of the divorcee challenge. Is it an ageism that makes Heidi harbor such resentment for Gordana? I don't know. But I enjoyed her perspective and appreciated her not beating us over the head with her humble upbringings a la Cry-stopher. Tom and Lorenzo at Project Rungay did a great interview with her you can read here. The episode where the judges' vendetta against Gordana was most apparent was in the final episode where they didn't even name a winner of the Getty Museum challenge, pretty clearly, because it would have been her but they couldn't justify awarding her with that and not sending her to Bryant Park. Whatever.

Their auf'ing of Gordana was one of several auf'ings that I was more than a little perturbed about. My fury has actually grown incrementally since their dismissal of Malvin, the soft-spoken, admittedly pretentious, but into conceptual andorogony New Yorker whose chicken egg was, truthfully, bizarre ad unflattering. But it only annoyed me so much because it was very evident at that point that Mitchell lacked the technical skill to succeed in the PR setting and was not watchable enough of a personality to justify their keeping him. I was also angered and saddened by their auf'ing of Epperson over pretty-boy man's man Logan, which was a poor decision I feel like, and perhaps again resultant from an ageist attitude, and I was really annoyed by their auf'ing of Ra'mon over Louise.

A lot of these annoyed me so much because of the aforementioned issue of the inconsistency on the judging panel. It puts the players at a clear disadvantage because it doesn't give them sufficient time to tailor their individual aesthetics to the judges' tastes, since those tastes are constantly changing, and it doesn't give them the benefit of the judges seeing week by week what the contestants are cumulatively capable of. Many of the blogs I read on the show are saying that these problems swayed the results towards a Real World demograph amongst the three finalists and I'd say that's an accurate assessment. You have three attractive, young girls who don't seem to push the envelope in their designs or their personalities but are generally likable but probably forgettable.

Lastly, and, maybe this should have been sooner because, this element was so endlessly irritating, was the overstatement of the models' significance throughout this season. The models' role in Project Runway was always an important one, but it's importance was anecdotal, circumstantial and tended to be arbitrary, just like the function of models in high fashion on a runway. To say that viewers and contestants did not take the models into consideration is certainly a fallacy but this season it was as if they were nearly as important as the designers themselves, having a challenge catered entirely towards their taste and a companion series following every episode. Maybe it was Lifetime trying to squeeze every second of lucrative ad time from the highly watched series, but I have yet to meet someone who is actually attached to any of the models or their personalities.

I do hope that Season 7 is less dissapointing because Project Runway does have an extremely entertaining formula that makes viewers feel like a part of an industrial sphere that has historically been regarded as distant and elite, but I think that if the show continues to cater towards the aesthetic tastes of the average American it'll lose a core of its viewership. Then again I'm no entertainment shaman. So I'll just say that if nothing else, I'd quit watching it!

If You Liked It Then You Shoulda Put The Ring on It

I have a tendency around benchmark holidays (Christmas, 4th of July, in this case Halloween) to refer to roughly the three weeks prior to the actual calendar date of the holiday as "[Insert Holiday Name Here] Season." To honor the commencement of said season I love to engage in activities that are associated with said holiday. I don't think that this is such an unusual practice but after my 14-year-old sister responded dismissively about the cultural existence of "Halloween Season" I found it necessary to give a thorough explanation of how I conceptualize this three weeks. Because Halloween Season is upon us, I know have the insatiable urge to watch as many horror movies from my past as possible.

Furiously digging through the depths of my parents' VHS cabinet for relics from my former cinematic tastes which included leading ladies the likes of Neve Campbell and Jennifer Love Hewitt, I was disappointed to discover that most of my slasher collection hadn't survived the move south. But one lone soldier remained, 2002 classic The Ring. Generally I was (and still kind of am) too freaked out by movies whose scare center lies in demonic possessions or paranormal elements. I tended to prefer murders or things that were within human control when I would watch a horror movie. But last night I was feeling bold and wanted to share the primary viewing experience of this freaky flick with my 14-year-old sister, still perturbed by her dubious response to the existence of Halloween Season.

After a brief cajoling which included my selling this proposition to her by telling her that The Ring was actually a romantic comedy about a surprise engagement between two Midwestern Waffle House employees named Peggy and Bill, and that it was titled The Ring because of Peggy's surprise at the proposal and the beautiful engagement ring offered to her by Bill, (she obviously didn't buy it), my older sister insisted that the familial revisiting of The Ring was essential to our evening. Thanks Lauren!

I have to admit, moments before the movie began I was revisiting the same feelings that I had when I had first called my friend my sophomore year of high school and said, "Do you want to see The Ring tonight in Huntington at 7:30?" It was an immediate, "Oh shit" reaction, an, "I can't believe those words just came out of my mouth" kind of thing. I immediately regretted the suggestion and wanted more than anything to take it back. But my friends had been sold, as had my sisters. Again, thanks Lauren.

But this time rather than being terrified by the seemingly senseless inclusion of various neurosis and random assortment of freaky ass shit, I was just kind of annoyed by it. The construction of the narrative that's intended to weave together the fear factor elements is sloppy, inconsistent and at times borders on absurdity. Nothing in the movie tends to make sense. Nothing in the movie means anything. It's sole intention is to freak you out and it does, the first time, in theatres. After that it feels as though the movie itself is just a broader reflection of the video that the girl makes, a nonsensical threading together of hauntingly bizarre images and occurrences that maybe later lurk in your consciousness but don't directly infiltrate your way of thinking.

What I mean to say is that The Ring is a movie that once I knew what was coming, viewing it made it not mind blowingly frightening but more frustrating in its incongruencies and seeming lack of subversive message. What's also frustrating and could potentially be attributed to the lack of symbolism in the movie, is the lack of explanation given for a huge chunk of the plot. How did this girl get these images onto film? Why did she spare the life of Naomi Watts but not her husband Deadbeat Dad Noah? What's with the nose bleeds? Though metaphor is admittedly frustrating when heavy handed, to a thinking viewer it's more frustrating when it's understated or completely absent, and even more annoying when its absence causes a sloppily constructed storyline.

There were glimmers of messages about overstimulation from television as media when our female protagonist is out on her apartment porch, peering into the large windows of her neighbors and internally counting how many of them are watching television which seems like a subtle ode to Hitchcock but, again, that message is quickly dropped if intended at all. And there's also the stretch at saying the film deals with absentee fathers as the two characters whose deaths are most graphically included match that archetype. But, again, it's a stretch.

I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say on a greater level aside from the fact that The Ring, as an admittedly iconic horror movie, is one that is worthy of canonical status only because of its success gauged by box office revenue and ability to be so haunting, even if only the first time, while still maintaining a PG-13 rating. There are certainly films that I could revisit that I'm sure would still scare me as much as when I had seen them the first time, The Exorcist terrifies me every time I've seen it since the 7th grade. But I need more congruence and subversiveness in the film's metaphor for it to have a lasting fear factor for me as a viewer.

Maybe it's my own fault for not having taken the time to see The Ring 2. Maybe everything comes together in the unsuccessful sequel and my criticism is resultant from ignorance of the greater narrative at work here. Well at least my parents didn't get rid of the epic I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, Brandy and a dred-locked Jack Black really were the glue that held those flicks together.

She's Bringing Smizing Back

Tyra’s got a few more tricks up her sleeve, doing the same shit over and over again, cycle after cycle, but always finding innovative presentations for the same tired formula. And you know what? I love it. So I know I haven’t been super on top of my posting and for that I apologize. But I have been diligently following this cycle and did enjoy last Wednesday the deconstructive presentation of the brilliance of Tyra’s SMIZE! Look, she even taught Larry King to do it!



Early in last week’s episode the girls were shocked and appalled to find out that one of them would be eliminated after meeting with Nigel and the head of Wilhelmina Models, with whom they will be awarded a contract if they become America’s Next Top Model. So already, less than ten-minutes into the episode, Bambi-eyed Rachel got the ax for not being charismatic enough and was sent home without the standard shallow and cliché words of wisdom adieu bid from Tyra, their model mommy.

The remaining girls quickly got over the loss and were brought to their next challenge where they were introduced to Super Smize (which was really just Tyra in a silvery jumpsuit and cape glaring into the camera and calling it smiling of sorts.) They then were put into unflattering neon jumpsuits, reminiscent of those oompa loompa outfits from the Mike TV song, and challenged in Tyra’s Fortress of Fierceness in pairs over who had the best Smize. Of course that designation was determined by Tyra and was perceived by me to mostly be arbitrary, but really you don’t watch the show for the authenticity factor.

The winners of said challenge were treated to a fancy dinner with the CEO of Wilhelmina and the losers were their dishwashers, perhaps a reminder of the painful possibilities if they continue to fail in this competition, GASP, real people labor!

The next day they were told that their challenge would be posing nude on a horse with a jockey. Some of them, notably the sweetly southern simpleton Laura, were adorably delighted by this prospect, “I just like nudity!” (LOVE HER!!!). Bianca, who has been edited to play the role of the token bitch, was put into a blonde wig, obviously as an instigator for her volatile nature, and my sister compared her masculine bone-structure and full lips juxtaposed with the flowing blonde hair to Ru Paul, which apparently Jay realized to, as he referentially called her a tranny, comparing her photo to Isis, the trans contestant from Cycle 11.

Whatever though, at the end of the episode, Bianca was again in the bottom two with the gimpy Courtney who was sent home for having given up during her shoot but still given Tyra’s good blessing, “You have a lot of fight in you.” Other good things included LC as a guest judge, which I really didn’t hate, mostly because she really liked LuLu, who happens to be my fav (she referred to her photo as “sweet and natural”), we learned that Jennifer suffers from a ptosis of the eye, basically a lazy eye, which I anticipate will lead to her inevitable demise, and we learned that when models are told to think of something that gives them a strong emotional response and can motivate them to smize, answers are likely to include beef noodles, sheet cake, and pepperoni pizza. Way to shatter those preconceived notions Tyra.

Get High and Watch This

Not that I'm advocating the use of illegal substances, but I promise you, you won't regret it. Watch all five minutes of it, and keep an open mind.

See? Told you.