Hey, hey, hey Trashmii!! I’ma let you in on a little secret: The judging on this show doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’m getting ahead of myself, but I wanted to get that off my chest.
So, when we last saw our little Celebrity Rehab hopefuls, they were about to hop on a propeller plane to the island that made Tyra into the fine, upstanding wig-wearer that stands before us every week…Bali. Remember when this show was legit? And the models went to fashion-capitals of the world? And they went on go-sees that involved them hysterically navigating themselves through strange cities? That was cool.
Bali is no fashion capital that I’m aware of, but I would greatly enjoy watching our little minions participate in go-sees…maybe having to trek through the village on the backs of elephants…or rickshaws. I would be pleased with either of those.
Alas, none of that is going to happen, so let’s get to what actually did happen this week.
Everyone is happily high-fiving each other for having outlasted Alexandra and her mystery illness.
They are doing the flight of the bumble bee, running through the House That Tyra Built, throwing all their shit into garbage bags. Time and propeller planes wait for no one.
They finally arrive, and damn, the way they are running and gushing through the airport, they may as well be holding signs that say “Mug Me: I’m a Stranger to Your Land”.
Renee is excited to be back in a tropical locale that resembles her homeland of Trinidad. Jourdan is excited because the only time she’s ever left her hometown of Pig Snout, Oregon was to go to the Big City to sign her divorce papers at the age of 18 (which is also the age at which she was married, in case you haven’t been watching).