Despite the fact that I think the back-flipping, break-dancing dimple machine known as Mario Lopez should have won, the "Dancing With the Stars" finale was undeniably satisfying.
There’s something about seeing all those previously eliminated contestants back on the stage, samba-ing their hearts out, that makes the entire experience look like so much fun that I’d swear it’s probably worth becoming a celebrity (or even, let’s be honest, a semi-celebrity) just to be able to do the show.
Sure, the judges could be a bit harsh at times, but hosts Tom Bergeron and Samantha Harris are so damn positive.
Plus, if the departing contestants are to be believed, “Dancing” makes anything possible — not only will it get you in shape and help you to discover all sorts of previously untapped talent, but you’ll also make friends for life and possibly find a new romantic prospect.
It’s like “Dr. Phil” meets “Celebrity Fit Club” with “Blind Date” and “Dirty Dancing” thrown in for good measure — unless, of course, you’re Tucker Carlson, in which case the whole experience is just plain awkward.
If going on “Dancing” looks the most fun you can have short of getting successful enough that you never have to appear on a reality show at all, then “Top Model” — and this week’s episode in particular — seems like something that could only appeal to masochists.
What did Tyra and company decide to do to our girls this week? Sent them to the world’s most spastic acting coach, whose only claim to fame seemed to be that she “taught” Tyra to “act” — and on that revelation, we flashed to some of our fearless producer’s more cringe-inducing acting moments this season.
Later, we were treated to a silent film that featured Tyra — about a thousand times less annoying when she can’t be heard, as it turns out — in which she explained that the girls were all going to Spain.
And it would have been the most excellent experience ever, what with the fun Spanish music accompanying everything, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the girls were then given a script that they needed to memorize for a commercial — in the Spanish dialect Catalan.
Almost all the girls stunk, save Melrose, who seems to have been put on earth simply to annoy — and the judges were so cruel to them during panel that it made me long for Samantha Harris and her phony exuberance over every last (bad) dancer.
When Jaeda was sent packing, I was relieved for the girl, feeling like she’d finally been given a reprieve from being told how lame she was week after week and having to listen to pretend modeling experts tell her things like “you can’t cry because we don’t have time to fix your makeup” when a male model is a racist jerk.
Plus, the girl can finally stop complaining about her dreadful haircut.
All I can say is Jaeda, grow that hair out and keep working until you’re a big enough star to be on “Dancing With the Stars,” and all those “Top Model” indignities you suffered will have been worth something.
Not only do you get shiny new costumes made for you every week — but they also leave your hair alone.
Anna David has been on staff at Premiere and Parenting magazines and wrote a sex and relationship column for Razor. She’s done celebrity cover stories, first-person essays and reported pieces for The L.A. Times, Vanity Fair, Cosmo, People, Us Weekly, Redbook, Self, Details, Stuff, TV Guide, Women’s Health, Ocean Drive, Vegas, The Saturday Telegraph, Esquire UK, Teen Vogue, Variety, The New York Post, LA Confidential, Distinction, Calabasas, Tatler (Hong Kong), King, Fade In, Emmy and Maxim, among others.