Beauty and the Geek
My family affectionately calls me the fashion police (well, I think it's affectionately), so how appropriate that I get to write about the makeover episode? And it proved what I've always thought: The right clothes can make a guy hot. Sure, that's not the only deciding factor, but it helps. Though highlighting their hair was a bit much (I could hardly blame Chuck for adopting the gay persona to snag numbers), it was great to see the guys feel good about the way they looked. This show is supposed to be about giving the "geeks" self-confidence, and I really felt like the makeovers did that. (Of course, that brings up the whole question of what the girls are supposed to be getting out of this show. The lesson that being needlessly bitchy isn't cool? If that's it, they should have just been shown Mean Girls. I'm really hoping that next week we get to focus on their weaknesses.)
I sort of expected Bill or Shawn to switch places with Bryan McFayden since he looked in desperate need of a makeover next to the newly minted hot guys. But alas, that didn't happen, and Bryan was still holding court in the elimination room. I was really torn about who I wanted to go home. On the one hand, I felt Bill had really been taking everything in. He looked hot, took some risks to snag a lot of girls' numbers and definitely felt better about himself. He's been learning and should get to stay, right? Richard, on the other hand, is still a mess. Part of me wonders if it's all a show for the cameras, but I honestly think he just doesn't have any social skills. How he managed to score six numbers is beyond me. Since he still has a ton to learn, I sort of wanted Richard to stay in the contest, too. Maybe if he sticks around he'll stop being a massive tool and take in what the girls — and the other guys — are trying to teach him. In the long run, I guess it's better that Bill and Lauren got the boot. With the Dukes of Hazzard movie coming out, I'm pretty sure Bill will be working overtime with the fan club. — Ali Gazan
Dancing with the Stars
How many Muppets had to die to make Rachel's and Charlotte's samba ensembles? 20? And either Kelly Monaco is actually getting better or I'm just feeling generous because the poor girl nearly fell out of her top after a pesky strap broke. I was so worried about that last samba move where she slid in between her partner's legs; there was almost another Nipplegate! I guess that's the danger of live TV. While I do think she's improving, I just want her to smile once in a while. Come on, I know she can do it! On the other end of the spectrum, I'm wondering if John O'Hurley suffered in the voting and almost got eliminated because of Charlotte's threats that he would wear a Speedo if he lost five more pounds. That scary thought might be enough to send the smooth stepper home. I felt just terrible that Rachel was eliminated. I hate this whole voting-out procedure, everyone seems to have stepped up their game. This week Ms. Hunter and her partner were clearly more compelling than Joey McIntyre and the adorable Ashly, but because the audience tally was for last week's jump-jiving Joey, the supermodel got bumped off. Then again, I almost think Rachel deserved it after commenting that she feels like a goofball. If this tall, lanky beauty is gawky, then what hope do the rest of us have? And Joey, next week I'd advise practicing more instead of traveling home to visit your family — or to New York for Celebrity Charades — no matter how cute your dad is. Did anyone else get dizzy watching the Viennese waltz? I'm guessing that Kelly got over her whole equilibrium issue; either that or she's taking a ton of Dramamine. Also, I'd like to make a personal request that host Tom Bergeron lay off the lame one-liners about Tom and Katie, a dance that was like helicopter landing signal at the Playboy mansion and performing the Foxtrot to Ludacris. His off-the-cuff material is about as awful as the still-cheesy band. — Angel Cohn
Morgan Spurlock did a good job delegating hard work tonight, doing all the reporterly stuff while someone else killed his liver and angered his wife. While 34-year-old Scott isn't exactly an old man, I can see how having three kids and not exercising in 14 years has taken a toll on the former swimmer. It seems like a no-brainer that simple exercise and diet could cure his gut and low-energy problems, but that wouldn't quite make Morgan's point. So he goes for the drastic method. I had no idea there was such a thing as an "anti-aging doctor," but of course they exist in L.A. Is this Dr. Alan Miles a modern-day snake-oil salesman or what? He flat out refuses to admit there could be anything bad about injecting his body weekly with testosterone and daily with human growth hormone, while forcing down 42 vitamin supplements a day. It's all supposed to stimulate muscle and cell growth, improve sexual performance, make his brain sharper and reverse everything associated with aging. Yeah, and making sure Scott makes a deposit at the sperm bank if he ever wants a fourth kid isn't a huge clue as to the damage this could do? Truth is, the hormones could lead to diabetes, heart failure, mood disorders and everything associated with surly athletes. At least getting him back into the swimming pool and in a daily exercise regimen is good news — that is, until wife Timona gets jealous of his hot personal trainer. Within two weeks, the pounds melt away, "it's like somebody turned on a light switch" in his mind, and Dr. Miles rings him up to say he's showing abnormal liver function. Plus, he's getting 'roid rage. (It's too funny when he curses at his diary camera for no reason.) Miles sounds extra-sleazy claiming the liver problems have nothing to do with the hormones. I'd flip out if I were Timona. Especially when the fertility doc says Scott's shooting blanks. So reason finally prevails over TV-plot structure, and Scott stops before his 30 days are up. On the positive side, he lost 15 lbs. and 15 percent of his body fat, and he plans on working out regularly now. Morgan, how does "20 Days" sound to you? — Sabrina Rojas Weiss
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