Tyra's Stank.

The time may have come for ANTM and me to part ways. Sad, as we spent some good Wednesday evenings together. Who can forget Crazy Lisa and the funniest thing I have ever seen on reality TV?


I've been overlooking Tyra and her nonsense for well nigh 13 cycles of ANTM, but after this week's installment, I'm finally acknowledging that Tyra is a total reject. For the photo shoot this week, Tyra shot the midget model hopefuls as "two different races".

First of all, she seems a little confused on what a "race" is. "Laura, you're going to be Mexican and Greek!" Um, neither of those is a race. Secondly - WTF?! This shoot involved all of the girls except Sundai, the lone black contender, to be dipped in dark body paint and "transformed into a new race." Basically, it was blackface, under the guise of celebrating President Obama's biracial heritage. I'll give you a moment to try to comprehend that crock.

Are you for real, Tyra? "Celebrating" different nationalities by painting skin and dressing the models in the most stereotypical (not to mention chintzy) clothing representing said nations/nationalities? The Native American/East Indian shoot included a full-on feather headress, sari and bindi, and came complete with regal, stoic stare. I was waiting for a lone tear to come dripping down her cheek. COME ON. These stupid stereotypes are how you're purporting to break down racial barriers? Are you serious?! If you want to celebrate being biracial, HOW ABOUT HAVING SOME BIRACIAL MODELS IN THE COMPETITION? You could totally save on body paint!

We should have seen this coming. There were precursors. Exhibit A: When Tyra made the models dress up poor and pose with real life homeless (yet photogenic) people! Then she explained that she knew the deal with homelessness, since she, too, was homeless FOR AN ENTIRE DAY. What does that even mean? That she didn't go home to her mansion until bedtime one day?! Then there was the Tyra in a Fat Suit episode of her unwatchable daytime TV show, "A Daily Celebration of Tyra." On the real, this woman is clueless. But in an increasingly harmful way.

Police Blotto.

I subscribe to the police report for my 'hood that they send out every week, partially because I want to know what I'm dealing with out there and mainly because I'm a Nosy Parker (not to be confused with Parker Posey, which is allegedly her real name, which I have a hard time believing). Like I found out that a week ago around the corner, some guy woke up in the morning to a homeless man standing in his bedroom, wearing his bathrobe. At a shady hotel/halfway house type place, someone got their X-Box stolen, but they didn't report it until three days later... to the Airport Police. One time, there was a graphic description of transvestite prostitutes "flagging down passing motorists and yelling massage."

But the incidents that get me are the ones that are invariably there every week: car window gets smashed, and something ridiculously valuable that was obviously clearly visible through said smashed window gets stolen. Really, people? You're surprised when you leave your laptop in your Mercedes and it gets popped? Oh, you left your iPod in the car and now it's no longer there? Your solid gold infant was left in your unattended and unlocked car and now you're upset that it's gone? COME ON.

I'm not into blaming the victim and not every break in results in a haul like a laptop (or anything at all), but when I park my piece of junk car, I put the trusty Club into place and leave the empty glove box open to show that there's nothing in there anyone wants. Unless they want a manual for a 1992 Honda, a map of PA and NJ state parks and a cassette tape of The Best of MTV's 120 Minutes (Part 2). Then they can have at it.

Dirty Diapers.

WTF is up with the people at Pampers? Most of their ad campaigns (with the exception of that one with Salma Hayek and the most-imitable pronunciation of "Pampers" ever) are geared directly at toddlers. Like, they address babies directly about their diaper needs.

Where do I even start with this nonsense? How about that it's totally gross to market directly to PEOPLE WHO CANNOT EVEN INFLUENCE PURCHASING DECISIONS YET since they can't, you know, TALK. Like it's not bad enough that kids are constantly bombarded with commercialism and consumerism, now we're indoctrinating them to buy, buy, buy practically as soon as they emerge from the birth canal? Are the parents watching this thinking, "Why aren't they talking to me? I'm the one with the cash money"?

Secondly, what is this crap about how busy toddlers are, toiling around the house? No, they're not. They're napping, being waited on hand and foot, occasionally throwing tantrums and generally making a mess.

I get that they're really addressing the parents here with mentions of lawn care, household chores, etc., but it's really disturbing. Isn't it bad enough that 6 year olds know all the words to Pussycat Dolls songs and that child beauty pageants exist? Do we have to take a bunch of kids with no pants on who can't even use indoor plumbing yet and project them into roles of daily drudgery? Can we not just let kids be kids? Cripes. It's enough to make a person want to turn off the TV and become Amish. Although then I guess the kids would be raising barns from the time they could walk, so...

Trite Tripe.

Can we all agree to stop using the phrase "I love [whoever] to death"? I mean, WTF does that mean, anyway? That you love the person so much you want to kill them? That is not cool, man.

Even if intent to murder is not the intended subtext of the phrase, I've noticed that people usually use it to talk about someone they actually don't like all that much. "I love Hans to death... But his sandals make me gag." "I love my mother in-law-to death... but I'm glad she lives in Guam." "I love children to death... But I have vivid nightmares that those creepy twins from that Ikea commercial will somehow find me and murder me in my sleep." (Seriously, what is that commercial even about?! That the mom loves her matching ovens more than her twins? That twins are evil? The Twin Anti-Defamation League needs to get on that.)

While we're eradicating irritating, meaningless phrases from our collective vocabulary, let's also do away with the space-filler, "It is what it is." Oh, is it, really? WHAT? If it's not what it is, then WHAT IS IT? It's like an existential mind-bender. But stupid.

Maximizing Exercise.

So, like: exercise. Cardio, more specifically. The goal here is to raise your heart level up and get that sucker pumping, right? Strengthen it up, burn those calories? To accomplish this, it's often recommended that you strap ankle and wrist weights to yourself and then go walk up some stairs or gad about town. Wouldn't it create the same effect if you were just fat? Because then you're hauling around extra weight all the time and, hey, no Olivia Newton-John accoutrement needed!

Along the same lines, smoking is also proven to raise one's heart rate. If you lit up while running, you could get twice the workout in half the time! How about installing some ashtrays on the elliptical machines at the gym? I saw a guy out jogging once: sweatbands, shortie shorts, tank top, the whole nine, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he chugged down the sidewalk. Some would call him an idiot. I dub him a Master of Optimization.

Go Away, Ginkgo.

Let me tell you, no one loves a tree more than I do. Remember when those trees all went ape in one of those Lord of the Rings movies? That was totally the best part. I also aspire to live in a tree one day. I'm aiming for those stars.

But unlike man, not all trees are created equal. Some are hotter than others and some are a downright mess. Take the ginkgo tree - please. These things are nasty: when the ginkgo berries get ripe or whatever and plop down on the sidewalk, they emit an exquisite scent reminiscent of like, rotten fruit meets manure (identifying scents is not my strong suit and my inability to do so points to what I fear is early onset Alzheimers. Ironically, ginkgo is supposed to be good for your memory.)

And for some reason, the city of Philadelphia has seen fit to plant these things on every. single. block. Not only do they stink, but once you step in the fallen berries, they form a slick gel that then smells AND could potentially cause you to have a Life Alert moment. I know they're supposed to be hearty and be able to thrive in polluted environments, but man - they are contributing to the pollution.