Make Holly a Supermodel? NO!

It’s Friday, I’m in love, blah blah blah, but I’m also wikkid bummed that Holly won “Make Me A Supermodel” last night. I guess it’s no surprise, as skinny, moderately hot chicks get the most work, and the three remaining dudes weren’t all cat’s meow to begin with. But high comedy arrived when Ben’s fugly wife arrived.

Darling needs to get over to Chinatown and get herself some chin. And while she’s there, maybe she can buy a discount clue from one of those 99 cent shops, because if that shit wasn’t TENSE when Ronnie sauntered in, I don’t know what is. Clearly Ronnie and Ben sipped Guy-Tais in the Bone Zone during production. "Bromance" my ass, shit even R-Dawg’s Mom had to be all “They’re Just Friends!” Right.

Maybe Amanda (what’s up with fake bitches named Amanda?) rolling up to see Perry was just as tense, but Evs City, he rolled over and died in her arms as soon as she rang the doorbell. But my concerns of Perry’s slutty gf shifted to Polly’s hand, where apparently her Erik Estrada-looking hubby glued some weird-ass statue to her paw. I was happy to see the producers found a way to remove it in time for the final – and USELESS – runway scene. And if the Holly Hubster didn’t go back to the Bravo-paid hotel to tag Amanda on the DL, then my whole world is a lie.

Anyway, now the second-best show on TV is over and done, and I’m left with the final episodes of Rock of Love II to hold over my trash-tv fix. I have to say, the MMAS cast had more character and intrigue than most shows these days, and I genuinely liked the final six or so.

But moving on, VH-1 sent me an advance copy of “Ego Trip’s Miss Rap Supreme,” which is essentially Part 2 of the “White Rapper Show,” so hopefully that fills the void. My girl Persia better be reppin’ in this shit. It premieres April 14, but I’ll have thoughts on it sooner, and something in the Herald that Monday.

Lastly, the Pill is tonight, and I just got an email from Camp Scorcese that “a crew” from Marty’s new film, Shutter Island, (The latest Dennis Lehane novel-turned-Boston-jerkoff-fest-on-film) is heading to Great Scott for some dancin’. Maybe I’ll throw on “Basketball Diaries” on the big screen in case Leo DiCaprio rolls up and busts a move to Pulp’s “Common People.” If it gets too ironic and roaches climb the walls, I can call my Daddy he could stop it all, yeah. xo