In Which Travel is Stressful, but the Expirience Fulfilling

I know, it's taken me a week to write anything. Sorry to disappoint all, hmm, seven of you? I got home much later than scheduled on Sunday and have been de-stressing myself for a while. Besides the basic woes of traveling and interviewing at my top college choice, my mother lost her job on Friday. For now, I present you with post-travel commentary. A recap of last night's episode will be put up tomorrow morning, hopefully.
Honesty time: I didn't watch all of Project Jay. Not out of spite against Jay, though at one point I realized Austin was my favorite part of the episode. It was just not as comment-worthy. Maybe I'll catch a rerun.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this quickly penned piece- expect something mus more interesting next week. Not only is it PR finale week, but I'll hopefully have lots of nice pictures from my weekend. I am working at my second job. Church camp counselor. For the sex education conference.

Prologue.
If you don't know, it takes about an hour and thirty minutes to get from one end of Rhode Island to the other, length-wise. It takes about half an hour to get from just about anywhere in Rhode Island to the city of Providence. It's a nice place.
Because we don't spend much time in our cars, as a generality Rhode Islanders are excessively lazy about traveling. Twenty minutes to a certain store? It has to be done on a weekend, and you'd better bring friends and go out to lunch, too. Who has the time to spend forty minutes driving just to get something you need? An hour drive is a day trip. More than an hour? Damn, you'd better spend the night somewhere.
The time of travel between my town in Rhode Island and Ithaca, New York is no less than six hours, and depending on the mode of transportation, can exceed ten hours. By train, it's seven hours. Of course, that's a train from Worcester (forty minute drive from RI) to Syracuse (an hour and twenty from Ithaca, which doesn't have its own station). That is, if you're not delayed three hours by snow.
Ithaca is pretty snowy.
I've lived in Rhode Island all my life.
Traveling sucks.

Thursday.
I realized that I am a truly resigned part of the American workforce at the same time I realized that two consecutive weekdays off of work was the most pants-pissingly exciting thing that had happened to me in months. It is a notch below "winning a contest" and, sadly enough, a notch above "great sex".
I slept until late-as-heck on Thursday morning, waking up to pack and shower. Then there was the lovely seven hours of not know where the fuck I was (one of the two major differences between train and bus, the other being the inclusion of the fabulous concept of personal space). I was picked up at the station by the boy and his friends complaining of snow squalls. I discovered on the ride home that "snow squalls" is a term for snowflakes teaming up and trying to beat one's car into submission.
We got back, I met some more of the boy's counterparts and we hung out until bed time was decided.
Oh, and by the way- the boy got a big haircut. He didn't mean to. The elderly Korean man who cut his hair told him he looked like a girl, and, well, one thing lead to another. I suppose I'll allow a picture, just promise me there's no drawing of big glasses or stinky cheese:

Jen said he looks like Tim Curry, which after comparison seems accurate. Which is great! I have a short list of "old guys I would totally make out with", and Tim Curry has been on that list since I was about ten, creepy as that is. Eddie Izzard owns the top spot on that list, as if you couldn't guess.

Friday.
We slept until the boy had class, and I basically lounged about until he came back. We went to lunch, at which time I distributed my peace offerings to his friends. They included a cheap harmonica, candy, weird Valentine's Day personality exploration cards (you know- "what is your biggest regret? do you like ice cream?"), and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. After lunch, I went to my first college lecture, about astronomy. And, yes, among other things, in my first college lecture, we learned why the sky is blue.
After that, I cuddled the boy some more, then went to a laundry-doing party, aptly titled the weekly Pants Party. I also watched the entirty of Sin City in fast forward without any special effects. Huh! Eventually we went out to dinner at the Ithaca Commons, choosing our cafe by spinning around and pointing.
Listen, I love Ithaca. I would want to live there if my boyfriend wasn't there. There's so many hippies. When you live in the woods in New England among misplaced rebel flags, your dad warns you that giving up meat for Lent is probably dangerous and a Subway restaurant being built is the biggest news in years; it's refreshing, almost euphoric, to enter a brightly colored cafe and see the food all labeled vegan or non-vegan. I'm a hippie at heart, in the worst way. A spiritual love-everybody queer feminist tree-hugger.
Don't worry, friends. I'm not a PeTA member. Don't tell the other hippies, but seriously: fuck PeTA.
Where was I? Right. At the cafe, had a quesadila and listened to a very mellow and lovely live artist. I only heard him address the crowd once:
"Anyone from Buffalo? ...no? Well. Um. I saw some writing on the wall, there, that had new meaning to me as a new parent. It said, 'I fucked your mother!'. And underneath that, 'dad, go home, you're drunk.' ...No one here is drunk. ...That comes later."
The boy and I skipped out for a few minutes to do some "shopping". We went "shopping" at a lovely pink building with no windows. It didn't have a name, but the door said it was an "adult novelty store". At this "novelty store" they sold some "water pipes", along with lots of "personal massagers" and "pornographic videos". You're not getting me to take a picture with my purcahse, but maybe it looked something like or perhaps identical to this thing, who knows. If you don't know that's probably not work safe, you ought to be getting at trouble in work anyway. If you're in private but just squeamish, don't worry, it's pretty darn non-threatening. We saw this one as well, which was pretty darn threatening. I'd suggest children not follow that link, A, because it's an 18+ website, and B, you'll probably have nightmares. I'm pretty sure this is turning into a sex blog? Except that I'm not a sexpert, like most sexy bloggers- it's like you're going on the journey of discovery with me. Hope it's a nice and not-creepy ride!
We went back to the school with the intention of going to bed, but ended up doing that talk-all-night bonding thing, that I can only imagine happens all the time in college.
By the way, the women's bathroom in this particular dorm had a sign on the door that said "Women Shouldn't Poop". I was inspired to start a new campaign. T-shirts, bumper stickers- it could be beautiful, if only I wasn't so damn lazy. So I leave it up to you. Take this sentiment, this motto, this mantra. Know it. Love it. Share it with the world:

Girls don't poop. They shit.

We finally went to bed around one, as I had to wake up six hours later.


Saturday
I ended up waking two hours later, to the worst noise I have ever heard. It was three am, and my first thought was that the boy's roomate had an awful alarm. My second thought was that fire drills didn't apply to me because I didn't go to school here. My third thought was "Fuck, we're on the tenth floor." My fourth and final thought before my brain sat this one out was "Fuck, I'm wearing shorts, in February, in upstate New York."
A while later, we went back to sleep, hoping that something was actually on fire and our lives had been saved. Reality: a drunk kid threw a beer can at one of those ceiling sprinklers. I don't know how the mechanics of that works, but that kid needs to be spanked, or something. There were at least two girls outside with wet hair and bathrobes.
Around eight that morning I went to the waiting area for the theater department interviews and auditions. The boy's friend and future roomate hung out with me, as he was hoping to transfer into Drama, the major I was applying for. Drama seems to me the place for humble (self-deprecating even?) theater kids who are just happy to be around a stage- sure, we might act, but we're more often doing all the shit the actors consider themselves too important to do. The boy's friend and future roomate told me a story about a show in which he was part of the lighting crew, as was an Acting major. She allegedly stood up and demanded someone explain to her what a wrench was, as she was an actor and didn't usually have to deal with this sort of thing. Struck me as the sort of person who spoke in italics. I'm sure you know that type.
Anyway, the interview went well. We went to a museum for the purposes of one of the boy's friends getting information for an assignment. I realized I needed to take more pictures, so I snapped this gem:

Though, I think it would be just as humorous if all I had got was this shot:

In fact, I'm pretty sure that sign renders the rest of this entry worthless. You'd probably be much more amused if I had simply posted that one picture instead having to read all of that boring trip recap to get to it.
The rest of the day is kind of blurry, I'm pretty sure we got back and had a big sleep party. I do recall watching a movie that evening, ordering pizza, and, oh yeah, this piece of glory:

That, my dears, is a sixteen inch cookie. That is larger than the large pizzas made at my place of work. You can see Skittles, Reese's Crumbles, caramel chips and snow caps. I didn't get a shot of the brick-sized brownie with M&Ms and dark chocolate baked to the inside. We ordered that around midnight. Yes- in Ithaca, there is a bakery specializing in giant cookies and brownies paired with any candy you could imagine, that delivers until four(4) AM. I'm really not sure why this isn't established in every college town. By law.

Sunday
Mostly, this day sucked. I won't even talk about it. Scroll up and look at that huge cookie some more. That was such a better time than the three hour delays and ten degree weather that Sunday entailed.
Call me sentimental, but the best part of the whole day was this:

A little boy headed to the snack car asked me to take care of his puppy while he was gone. The puppy was appropriately, if slightly predictabley, named Puppy.
No mustaches or stinky cheese on the little boy's puppy either, please.


Project Runway commentary tomorrow (Friday). I promise.

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Man, I don't even need to make comedy about this.

I haven't watched a reality show reunion since Real World Season 9. I forgot the wonderful, cheesey magic they entail. If you missed the magic, I'll break it down into points about everyone (or, well, everyone that got enough time to be interesting):
-John Wade got fine.

Not only mega-thin, as I'd already noticed, I feel like he grew two inches upwards or something. I would officially go- um- male, for him?
-Kirsten got preggers.

I think I heard her say she was seven months. Aid my memory, what month was the show filmed in?
-Heidi (the designer) didn't do much but remind us she's Southern by struggling over "Ra-moon-doh?"
-Heidi (the model) reminded us she's German by confusing "selling like hotcakes" with "selling like bagels". I thought the latter was better. She hasn't been remarkabley cute in a while. She followed it up with "I'm German, what do I know?" For whatever reason, this form of self-deprecation turns me off.
-My homegirl (Rhode Island what?) Diana wore a mathematical knit.

I don't care how she performed on the show. I'm nuts about her.
-Zulema has a name for her bad moods. Chetangi? Shetangy? She is tangy? What?
-Daniel Franco, that bizarre little trooper, hearts Heidi Klum!
-Even though Raymundo called him a flamer, in less harsh words and more eye rolls.
-Andrae continues to be adorable. There's no other words.

I would wear what he was wearing. Is that wrong?
-Guadalupe got mad drunk.

Bravo even put two pictures of it on the website. (edit: um, I'm just going to go ahead and assume Kirsten's is juice) I wish I could quote her, but nobody knew what the hell she was saying. I felt bad. The one chance to defend her madness, and she's to boozed to string sentences together.

Perhaps more about Project Jay when I get back on Monday- need to go pack, lovelies.

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The Art of Self-Deprecation

Good morning, more than five.
I do realize more than five readers have been here. I have evidence in the comments. However, I refuse to believe more than five people check here everyday hoping I've exercised my captivating wit, and more than five people are somewhat dissapointed to find that I update at inconstant intervals. I refuse this idea simply because it's bad for my writing. If I found out I had legions of readers, I'd get way too nervous and either update every day in a desperate attempt to please them and end of churning out crap and interrupting my social life, or I would stop updating completely out of fear of offending or wasting your time.
See, internet popularity is not my shtick. Self-deprecation, that's where I'm at. I was going through my own entries the other night, and I realized in the beginning I was writing like, well, an asshole. Maybe I figured if I wrote like I was confident and had legions of adoring fans, I would get them? Anyway, I'm glad I quickly went the self-deprecation route. Every comedian I admire is at least somewhat self-depreciating. By the way, I'm quite into comedians. Not as much as I'm into, hmm, musicals, but moreso than I'm into, say, cars or food or music. Not to say I don't utilize cars, food, and music; I'd just choose comedy over them. I love Eddie Izzard for his habit of self-deprecation, along with his enourmous wit and impeccable style. Confidence is great, but at some point, you have to admit you're as pointless as anyone else.

I bring all of this up because of two things that came to my attention the other day. First of all, I realized my entry on the Inspiration episode had been linked to not once, but twice. By the way, those not links not safe for work, school or small children.
They're the same piece in different places, but still. How did they find me? Do they read me regularly? Am I popular on the internet? (By the way, that's a dumb flash cartoon, I just felt it was appropriate. Also, probably more disturbing to small children than Fleshbot or This Week in Porn.)
Last night, when I explained my realization that the girl's board proclaiming "I LOVE RED", "I MISS U" and "I LOVE REDMAN" were probably messages from Kara to her red-headed fiance, I dropped a link to here to explain my uncommon obsession. Someone replied telling me that she not only read my blog, she RSS read it. Not kidding: I was immediately sure it was a typo. I didn't think that was possible. Honestly, I wasn't even sure exactly what that meant.
Look, if you and all of your friends check my blog every morning, I think that's great, keep it up- just don't let me know about it. Keep me in the illusion that I have a dozen or less loyal readers wandering over from BPR that I am aiming to entertain. Otherwise, you all might miss my upcoming tribute to Miss Piggy, and gosh, how would you go on?

In more relevant news, I'm going to Ithaca, New York this week to visit the boy and have an interview at Ithaca College. I'm leaving on Thursday. Which means my comments on the reunion (and I'm sure I'll have some gushing ones for my old underdogs) might not get up until I come back, on Monday. I'll try to slap something up on Thursday, but no promises. Don't worry, I'll come back with pictures, and maybe even some amusing anecdotes.

Oh, one more thing: I dropped the link to The Weekly Asshole, because D.Wils and I are too time-consumed to get really angry at someone every Monday. If our rage resurfaces, I'll put the link back up. I replaced it with a link to Queerty, following in the theme of "other blogs I actually read".

edit: yes, I misused "self-depreciation" rather than "self-deprecation". I had the latter originally, but fear of mispellings led me to online dictionaries, which only further confounded me.

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Evening, You Five Loyal Readers, You

I'm sticking to the shtick that I have five readers. Love you five. Thanks for all the praise about the coining of danservice- I can't believe no one thought of it before. I mean, all of the wins, and then stuff like this? I'm officially predicting he's the winner. Breaking my not-talking-about-OFW-collections streak and telling you that Chloe's collection was ok, but I thought the materials were all too similar. Santino's collection is better than his TV creations, but I think the producers might actually step in to halt his winning, considering he may be just as if not more difficult to work with than Jay McCaroll. They also might consider the fact that the many DanFans would be interested in following this handsome newcomer's career. Project Vosovic, anyone? So, Dan seems like the obvious choice.

Also, check out the new banner. I kept the image of Diana's first design- need to stick to my roots. On the left is Kimya Dawson, all the way to the right, Mr. Izzard, and beside him, yes, that is an image from A Chorus Line. I'm a straight-up broadway nerd, but don't worry, I'm not the type that thinks everyone else should be, too. Falling in love with a cynic is somewhat taming to flamboyant dorks like me. Though, he admits to a deep love of The Sound of Music. Gush.

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The Dull and The Danservice.

Well, I should've known Kara was out. She's the underdog. That's the tragedy of loving the underdog, they most often lose. Unless, of course, you're after a cheesey sports movie.

Goodbye, Kara.
Her decoy collection at fashion week was great. (Oh, if you're not aware, Olympus Fashion Week has, for both seasons, taken place the week before Project Runway airs the show revealing the final three contenders. Thus, both Austin Scarlett last year and Kara Janx this year presented collections so the next week's elimination would not be leaked out early.) The hats might be seen as a bit odd, but she said she liked hats, didn't she? I won't talk about the other collections yet, but Kara was the most surprising, colorful and, in my opinion, had the most personality. I can imagine it actually sparking an interesting debate between the judges.

Farewell to thee, Kara. Not only the most dazzling collection, the most charming personality. Diana was the most original, Andrae was the most earnest, and Kara was the sweetest.

So, now, I don't really care who wins. Not in the sense of "I hate you all! How awful! I don't care anymore! Angst!" In the sense of, I'm out of favorites. I'm truly ambivalent, from here on out it's a technical rather than personal interest. So whoever wins, good for them. Even Santino- though his dress was hideous this week, his collection was/will be slightly interesting.
Ok, can I get into how hideous Santino's dress was? I mean, I get why he was in, he did something eye-catching, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. I mean, even the biggest Santino fans can't deny his creation this week was practically unwearable. I'll give you an insight into the scenario that entered my mind when I saw that thing:
Imagine, if you will, an 80's teen movie in which the poor heroine is invited to prom two days before the event in a small tumbleweed-littered town, and she has to fly out to the only department store her family can afford to shop at, and the only dress they have left (that doesn't smell like cat piss) is the biggest, tackiest, most awful, embarassing thing you could ever imagine, and she has to strut into the prom and pretend it's cutting-edge fashion and looks super-hot.
That is exactly what Heather looked like on the runway. She was trying to pretend that piece of junk was not laughable.


So, maybe she turned it down, or maybe it's because she lives so far away. But how funny was it that Wendy wasn't invited to the party? Maybe it was a "there in spirit" thing, as Austin might've been wearing her clothes.

If you've been paying attention, you know I have nothing but love and admiration for charismatic guys in dresses and lace.

This episode was largely dull. The designs were dull, the drama was dull, the challenge was dull. No matter how many stupid twists (an evening gown! representing your collection! FOR IMAN OH TAKE THAT) you include or field trips you go on (hey, season three? ONE FIELD TRIP AN EPISODE PLEASE), you are not going to magically make the episode more interesting than the designs. The designs are dull? The episode will be dull. End of story.
I think the producers are trying one last ploy to pick up ratings. There are plenty of people who blatantly admit to watching Project Runway for Daniel Vosovic and only Daniel Vosovic. As santino is unofficially a real word, I'm coining my own term. You may or may not know that fanservice is a term used in anime culture in reference to, oh, including a peek up a girl's skirt for no particular reason. The producers of Project Runway are trying to cash in on the Danny craze with:

Some serious danservice.

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No Entry Due to Charitable Bingo

Well, Friday morning, I still have half a review in works for you- it may not get done tonight, either, your best use of time would be to come by tomorrow. I have a very good reason for my tardiness, though. I was at Rhode Island College, playing bingo for charity.

And sex toys.

The feminist orginization there, in cahoots with V-Day and Athena's Home Novelties, had Sex Toy Bingo. Jen (who you may have noticed is my most-often partner in crime), her boyfriend, her roomate and I all walked away with a prize or two in hand an a new addiction. Not porn or sex toys- we've got a jonesing for more bingo.
The roomate walked away with a hat inscribed with "Everyone Loves a Happy Penis", after a lubricant company, I think. I had a chance at some giant DPing ribbed purple two-foot object-o-fun, but I ended up grabbing these:

However, Jen wins the gold for most objectifying object to be viewed in a strictly hilarious fashion:


Just so you know, Guys Gone Wild? Creepy, creepy stuff. Avoid the bonus footage. Not one man-on-man kiss, either. We were sorely dissapointed. The most action two men got into was slapping bologna on each other's asses. Girls seem to eat cherries off each other, but guys? WOOOO SLAP HIM WITH SOME MEAT, YO.

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Farewell to thee Kara, the Last Underdog

I'm not too upset, as the end of the episode reminded me that I'd get to see my underdogs together again tomorrow night. All the clips of Andrae drove me to dream about him last night. We kissed, and he made the apocolypse face about it. His mouth was big and soft.

I've got errands to run before work, kiddies, but hopefully there will be a sparkling/snarky review here tonight.

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NSFW Ninja Turtle Valentine

So one time I, or maybe somebody I know, found this on a bus, or maybe in a hallway, but anyway, let it now live in internet infamy.

Happy V-Day, y'all.

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What's better than Liza Minielli's favorite swear word?

James Lipton asking Dave Chapelle for "my fucking royalties", saying the phrase "I'm going to piss on you" and engaging in the strangest dance-off I've ever witnessed.
I also have a new respect for Dave Chapelle. One of my best friends is crazy about his show, while I was usually ambivalent to it. I was somewhat bothered by his big fans, especially the white kids- and living in the woods, I know 98% white kids- who constantly invoked every line he ever wrote, including "white power!". But anyway, on Inside The Actor's Studio, he was very genuine. He actually reminded me of that best friend in that way, he had a very admirable and idealistic philosophy. Of course, with a dozen or so more years of wisdom under his belt than that friend (who is, by coincidence, a weed dealer).


End notes: I have no allegiance with the Bravo network, they just so happen to air a couple of shows I adore. Also, I am totally aware there are pictures of fashion week all over the internet, but I'll talk about them when the finale actually airs. I suppose I'll discusss the decoy collection this week when we find out which one it is. If you want to see them, search Blogging Project Runway for about three seconds.

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everybody and everything sucked this week, but I make a case the show anyway

Remember how I was missing that Santino that got into a huff and ate people?
Well, he's back.

Rowr.
I know, I know, the producers manipulate the footage, Santino's probably not such a big bully and drama queen in real life, etcetera. Also, the clothes he makes outside of the show are probably kicking or swell or chic or whatever adjective the cool kids use in your part of the world. All of that doesn't mean I can't love to hate this mean-spirited character they magnified him into, and it doesn't mean that he should keep getting passed just in case he ever designs something remotely attractive again.

Santino's is particularly awful piece of clothing for Kara somehow escaped the judge's scrutiny, while the early golden boy, fan favorite and sure runner for the final three, Nick Verreos got the boot for making Daniel V a slightly more boring but altogether higher quality outfit.

Nick's been slipping since he lost his prized model, and this week he finally fell out of the competition.
But hey, he's the first one to get his threads on a famous person. I messed up the link to his blog entry about it in a former entry, I guess links are just giving bad luck.

The challenge was designing a makeover for another designer. Which sounds like a totally cute, innovative, fun challenge. The problem being, Andrae is gone. I'm serious- the whole dynamic of the cast changes ever so slightly. He had this earnest quality, this total belief in the clothes that he made that was displayed through both a quiet sophistication (still serious- dismissing the early breakdown) and an unbridled enthusiasm. It's really missed this episode.
The designers discussed what they wanted to do as if they were playing dress-up rather than actually trying to achieve a new look with their doubled budget and timeframe. I guess I've jumped on Team Kara now (underdog love), as I think she's the only one that really nailed it. I'll make a breakdown of who designed what, and what the original goals were.
Daniel designed for Chloe. The goal was to make her a party girl. Sounds ok. I personally think she could work party girl by herself.
Chloe designed for Nick. The goal was, quote, "Euro-trashy". Sigh.
Nick designed for Daniel. The goal was some kind of super-tight 80s suit with shoulderpads. I was worried from the get-go. Why emulate the 80s, or ever mention shoulderpads, ever? That's something I never liked about Zulema, her fetish with big shoulders.
Kara designed for Santino. The goal was "preppier", cleaner. Keeping Santino very Santino without freaking out the norms. Such a good idea.
Santino designed for Kara. The goal was, as usual, laser-focused in the first ten seconds by Santino. He wanted a jumpsuit that showed off Kara's usually-hidden curves. He invoked the word "granola".

Ok, so listen. I'm just going to say it: Chloe and Kara looked like sex objects. They did not look sexy, which was the goal in both cases. They looked like minor female characters in a tacky secret agent film that the government operative gets to have sex with.

Even when designed by gay men (well, bisexual men), girls with personalities you could base a collection on end up getting a makeover making their T&A the stars of the show.
I hate to invoke the word "whoreish" for Chloe's look, because it's abhorrent, and it's obvious. My first thought when I saw her was "Oh God! How is she going to breathe?" I know Daniel Vosovic has been to a few more parties than me, but do you really dress like this for a party- in a leather corset that gives the impression of a big circle around your boobs? I don't think she could dance in that thing, she could barely walk.
As for Kara, she leaned far more into Bond-girl territory. I suppose a jumpsuit is automatically reminiscient of that, so it was a risk. As if Santino has a problem with risks. I wish, for blog purposes, that they had a picture of it from behind. For Kara's sake, I'm glad they didn't show that image more than they had to. Santino's model complains of wedgies and itchiness for a reason. Besides instantly drawing the eye to Kara's bum, the thing looked horrifically uncomfortable. She admitted it was dreadful to the camera, but still felt bad for not defending it on the runway. What a sweetheart. The colors were great for Kara, but when designing for a hippie, you need to consider comfort. Also- why's it all wrinkley?

Unfortunately, the stereotypes went both ways. While the girls were made over in a theme of sex-sex-sex, the boys (or at least, two of them) were under the heading of, in Nick's famous words, "g-g-g-gay".

First off, I hate to say it, but Daniel V seems to suffer from Cara's runway lobotomy face syndrome. Except he does it with his mouth open to be sexy, and it just comes of as skeeeeevy. Also, his hair is dumb. Don't worry, Dan-fans, I still consider him a beautiful man. The outfit for him was outed for being too feminine, which I didn't think would be a totally awful idea for a makeover for a "straight-acting" gay man, as long as it was tongue-in-cheek. I did agree the fabric was wrong for the look Nick was allegedly trying to acheive, but I didn't really give a damn about the buttons and pockets business. I also liked the fact that it didn't, you know, fall apart, and that Nick didn't subsequently lie about why it fell apart to cover his ass.
(I guess, props to Santino for not saying something along the lines of "you know, I really couldn't finish it because I was too busy practically making Kara's outfit for her". Sick of helping others? Refuse to do it. That's fine, it's not your job. Just stop complaining and work on your own garment.)
Nick happily proclaimed that he felt like a British flight attendant, which I think is exactly what he was hoping for. I was ok with Chloe winning this one, as it was her first attempt, Nick was so thrilled with the result, and, hot damn! Look at those pinstripes! I had forgotten that Chloe is really good at this.

Now, let's look at my favorite, Kara (underdoglove).

Here, Santino feels like Santino rather than a superhero, flight attendent, histronic hip-hop star or, uh, guy from the 80s. It's comfortable, it's wearable, but unusual enough to catch the eye. She keeps the layers and hat, but loses the Jesus hair (actually, the hair is now reminiscint of Salvador Dali, mustache down- perfect for Santino, I think). While Chloe's is the best constructed and perhaps most ambitious outfit, Kara captured the nature of a makeover. As often uttered by Carson Kressley: it's not changing, it's making better. It's not birthing the subject anew, it's polishing the subject up. No turd jokes.

So, the elimination sucked. As Laura K at BPR noted, the rules seem to change with every challenge. That's my beef with the show right now.
As others (mostly livejournalers) complain, there's no one spectacular this season. There is no Kara Saun, Jay and Austin, no three big personalities with blinding talent you're sure are going to duke it out at the end. This is not my beef with the show. Actually, this is why I'm still in love with the show.
After all my complaints, here's my case for why the show is still loveworthy:
Season two is not season one. Every person the audience puts up as this season's golden child quickly falls on their face. Santino starting stumbling on the lingerie challenge, Nick lost his model and his momentum, and Daniel V, well, dressed Chloe like he did this week. Well-loved designer after well-loved designer is cut out, and there's this uncertain group left from which to cull the final three.
Look, in season one, you knew from the first few episodes who was going all the way and who was dropping out pretty fast. There were no big fan favorites other than that final three- of course, Wendy went and disrupted our predictions, which is why everyone got so hooked and the second season is so sucessful. Unlike season one, there's no clear winners for season two. Everyone has made something beautiful at some point, everyone has fallen on their ass at some point. The clothes coming down the runway are a complete surprise, good or bad, every week. I love it, I love not knowing, or thinking I know, who will be in the final three. Kara really has a shot- she's been pulling it out towards the end, and I think her fashion week collection would/will be fabulous. Then, so would/will Santino's, and Daniel V's, and Chloe. We don't know what they're going to pull off. I don't think it's boring for the designers to have flaws- I think it's refreshing.

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The Great Santino Conspiracy

I was totally ready to write a "well, Santino is finally out, what a long stange trip it's been" tribute. I thought it was so obvious through the whole episode. Sure, the sketches were nice, but when Kara put it on, I knew they could't pass that Bond-girl, booty-centric piece of trash. For goodness sake, it fell apart!

I'll have a real entry tomorrow, but I just wanted to say congratulations to Nick Verreos- your departure was the first one that brought me to tears.

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Happy Birthday to the Man in Heels

Blast! I was late to realize today is Eddie Izzard's birthday. I wish I'd written up a piece about him.
Oh, well. Suppose I'll just paint a silly bithday hat on him for now.


also, a note: the new links (weekly asshole, to which I contribute, and the blog I check most often, feministing) have been totally wrong for the past few days. I don't know if it's possible that something somewhere automatically changed them, or if I was just stupid enough to type both "typepad" instead of "blogspot" and "org" instead of "com"? Whatever, they're fixed, hit them up.

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Post-Superbowl Commentary

No, I did not watch the superbowl. I'm not going to comment on that, silly goose. I'm just making general life commentary, post-the superbowl. Get it?
You may have noticed I have been posting less frequently. It may be due to the fact my two favorites are off Project Runway and I'm feeling disenchanted with the challenges, or it may be due to the fact that I've been waitressing five days a week instead of three (plus a few nights hostessing here or there). Good for my bank account, bad for my blog. So, I've been lazy long enough, I ought to start writing the more general stuff I'll be doing post-PR. Along with reviews of the odd, aesthetically pleasing and culturally subversive (it's good to have a simplified slogan), I'll give the occasional rant on society (catch that bizarre superbowl ad in which women singing about how they're "always willing" lay in a pile and grunt to form a giant cheeseburger? Thank goodness I didn't), stupid gimmick (gosh, how I love Steve, Don't Eat It!) and a hopefully humorous foray into my personal life.

So, why did I not watch the Superbowl? As much as my boy tries to teach me, I just don't get football. I finally have a very basic grip of the rules, but when I try to watch, it's still just a lot of angry running and falling over. I've come to respect the boy's dedication to it, though. He's not one of the guys who care about football once a year as an excuse to get drunk and riled up. He actually studied the goddamned history of the sport. He knows his shit about football like I know my shit about, well, nothing really. His knowledge on American football is a notch above my knowledge on Eddie Izzard sketches, which is pretty darn good. I listen to him talk to his father about it, and I imagine if you could major in football in college, they would either be A students or professors. Or, maybe the impressiveness is just due the fact that, much like fashion, I don't know shit about football.
Would you hold it against me if I continue about the boy? Listen, it's more about his brain. I'm realizing, more and more, that the thing is far healthier than my own. Not that he's a rocket scientist or anything, nor that I'm a vapid shell (though, I do operate a blog), but he just seems to be able to, I don't know, focus. He has these intense interests, which makes some think he's a snob, but I'm theorizing that it's just how his brain works. For instance, cheese. My boyfriend is, you might say, a cheesemonger. He says he's not, because that means you sell cheese, but I think he's at least pushing it's agenda. I could go into specifics, but just imagine it for yourself: your significant other is totally into cheese. No, moreso than you're imagining. Like, you go out on a date, and he demands that after dinner you make a stop at the artisan cheese store down the street, at which he spends upwards of twenty dollars on three bits of cheese, and you rush home to make a cheese plate with it.
That's never happened exactly like that, but it's definitely not unrealistic. He's not violent or anything about his cheese or football, he's just intense. I can't do that. I can't be that interested in something. Maybe for a week or two, I'll manage to convince myself I'm going to finish a zine or turn that old t-shirt into underpants that say "D.A.R.E. to keep kids off drugs" on the bum (I had this idea way before Santino's Auf Wiedersehen panties. They're currently half-sewed, I'll post pictures if I ever finish them). I could never, ever dedicate myself to a hobby like making cheese. Yes, he's making cheese, and he has to turn it daily for, I don't know, a month or so, and then weekly for a while, and then monthly. The whole process takes over six months, and longer if he wants to age it. He's like an old man, and he knows it. He's capable of all kinds of seriousness I can't manage. He can be perfectly silly in bursts, but he has a serious aversion to stupid activities, such as dancing and Halloween. He hasn't dressed up for Halloween since he was ten years old. He also never ate peanut butter and jelly or read Shel Silverstein as a child. You know he never crawled? One day when he was a babe, he just got up and started walking around. Explains a lot, doesn't it?
I realize this has been a lot of words without pictures, particularly considering I mostly write about a TV show, but I think the boy would be against the five of you loyal readers having a picture of his face. You know, this crazy internet, I don't want you drawing nerd glasses and smelly cheese on him.
Well, here's a partially obscured picture of him playing nice with his kitty. Take a break from all this strenuous reading I put you through to make cute noises at a picture of kitty.

It's a stray that his family adopted- or rather, adopted his family when they moved in. He insists on calling the thing Socks ("boring name for a boring cat"), while I suggested Pretty Eyes, then Stockings, and after spending a night at the house, Loudmouth, Foghorn or Phineas.

Anyway, while I was not watching the superbowl, I bought makeup. Not worth mentioning for a normal person, but I was nearly overwhelmed. I'd been borrowing my mom's for work (hottness = tips, unfortunately), and I decided I ought to get some of my own. If you've never been in a makeup aisle (as I hadn't, except in passing) go there. Try to pick something out. If you're any more clueless than I am, you'll probably get a nosebleed and pass out. It's impossible- I just wanted black eyeliner. Does brand matter? Does length matter? Is this harder or softer? Does that matter? Oh damn, is this a brow pencil or an eye pencil? With or without a sharpener? Automatic? What shade of black?
Luckily, there's always one major deciding factor no matter what I'm buying: what's cheapest? I went over to the cheapy-looking rack that had "50% OFF" plastered all over it. I went for something gimmicky with a funny name, a two-sided pencil called "Through The Storm"- other names included "Endless Love", "Islands in the Stream", and perhaps my favorite, "You Have The Power!". For whatever reason, I felt shame about buying makeup. I made sure no one saw me in the aisle, and I did that useless trick everyone does when they buy embarrassing items. In Chuck Palahniuk's short story Guts, one character buys a carrot to stick up his butt, but decides he ought to get the ingredients for carrot cake as well, so he's not at checkout with a carrot and vasoline. I'm sure you've done it. I know whenever the boy buys condoms, he also grabs a pack of gum. It's stupid, the clerk sees that you're buying diaphrams or adult diapers or whatever anyway, but in the buyer's mind, it makes the purchase look casual. You didn't really need those condoms or anything. You just wandered into a pharmacy with your eyes shut, and when you opened them you were in front of the Family Planning aisle, and you thought, "Well, who knows? I might as well be safe." Then you saw the gum on your way to checkout and said, "Similarly, I may or may not use this gum, but I will buy it in case I get the urge to chew." I'm always afraid that if I ever tried to pull it off with condoms, I'd go overboard and the clerk would start predicting how I'm going to incorporate every item into whatever sex act I'm performing. Here's a tip: be it tampons, Vagasil, or KY Jelly, throw in a cheap-o birthday card so it looks like an awful gag present. Though makeup may be considered significantly less painful to buy than contraceptives or vaginal health products, I was thoroughly embarrassed and bought a bag of candy.
So, anyway, I bought the stuff and came home to find myself alone. I expirimented my little heart out and ended up looking like Queen Hatshepsut. You know, first female Pharoah of Egypt? I pray you're a nerd audience.

The elongated lashes out the corners and the fake square beard. Yes, I drew a square beard on myself. There's no shame in post-high school dress-up. It's just called "transvestitism", and most of my personal heroes engage in it.

I washed up and settled down by the television, and I meant to watch the superbowl, really, but my mother was home by that point, and somehow we always end up watching bad reality TV on VH1. This time we bonded over two straight hours of season four of America's Next Top Model. I could make all sorts of comments, but Fourfour has it completely covered.
That was followed up by two hours of Inside the Actor's Studio with Liza Minielli. Yes, I am one of those musical theater loving jerks. In the last day I've been downloading songs from her by crazy. Last week, after buying But I'm A Cheerleader, I had a RuPaul spree, so now my "Recently Downloaded" list is Rupaul, Liza Minielli and the Project Runway soundtrack clips. I'm not sure if skipping the superbowl for makeup, models and Liza Minelli makes me a total girl, or at this point, an honorary gay man (much like Kara). Much better than seeing classic clips of Cabaret, of course, was hearing Liza admit her favorite curse was "motherfucking cocksucker".

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Look out for Andrae. He's our little lamb.

My heart is broken, again.

Gosh, what a dissapointing episode. Sorry if you all loved it, I was just put off.
They tell the designers to make dresses out of plants, and somehow expect them to not be a bit tacky? They're allowed the usual hundred dollars, and the judges expect a gown made entirely of flowers? Excuse me, have you ever tried to buy flowers? In a high-quality shop in Manhattan, no less?
I wish the judges got a closer look at the construction, especially in a delicate task like this. I thought Chloe's poor planning deserved to get her aufed. I'm not nuts about Chloe. Honestly, I've gotten bored with her. I was hoping she was aufed this week. Chloe had a lucky break and a helping hand from another designer. I know people thought it was Kara's turn, but I quite like her. Come on, now- "I've got a pile of green, and all I want to do it smoke it, honestly." I think she should have won this challenge. Daniel V's was nice, and I suppose he had a more solid direction as he was working, but Kara's looked the most like a real garment. Oh well, I guess the judges just can't get past their Vosovic fetish.

Andrae, my dear Andrae- he had an idea, a plan, a concept. The one complaint I agreed with was that it looked stiff, in the sense of uncomfortable. However, he did have that specific shape in mind. He wasn't trying to make a voluptous piece. He acheived exactly what he was trying for. It was sophisticated, and a smart selection and application of materials. Tim Gunn agrees with me, but, alas, someone had to be out, and as the judges don't get an eyeful of the process, Andrae's modest piece ended up at the bottom.

I mildly hoped Santino won, just so we could see a dress covered in neon f-bombs or something next week. His dress was passable this week, I liked that he used some interesting materials. I totally did not understand Michael Kors' comment to Heidi.
"I don't mind that it's shiny."
"Cause you're German!"
What? Are all Germans tacky or something? Is Michael Kors a racist? Was this some kind of joke that flew over my head? Perhaps Germans really do like shiny things. I'm not up to date on my German culture, I guess. The only thing I could think of that's shiny and associated with Germans were, uh, boots. Forgive me.
Also, I thought, funnier than Santino imitating Tim Gunn and Andrae having a date at Red Lobster (which was admittedly hilarious): Tim Gunn uttering "veklempt".

There was, this episode, what I believe is Project Runway's first discussion about homosexuality (well, besides Raymundo's ramble at his audition). Daniel, Nick and Chloe talk about coming out; and not on the air, bisexuality and et cetera. Daniel explains that he's about "eighty-twenty" (that's 5 on the Kinsey Scale). I fear the fangirls will glean too much hope from this- I imagine they'll be at his door any day now. (By the way, keep an eye out behind Nick- they have Emmett's shirt set up on a form at his workspace. How sweet.)
It was kind of a nice moment. I always liked what an overtly gay-friendly show Project Runway is- putting aside the painful fact that everyone assumes fashion designers are gay, anyway. Other reality shows tend to have just one gay person or couple for the sake of being diverse, and occasionally include some sort of drama (OMG one of the top models is a lesbian!?) or implied level of discomfort (just about every season of The Real World, ever) about it. Then, of course, there's the ill-fated gay bachelor-type Boy Meets Boy, which ended up being less gay friendly than it sounds. If you don't remember it, it was your basic dating show, including your basic idiotic twist. Half of the contestants were actually straight. Project Runway has displayed several boy-loving boys each season without feeling the need to announce it. The fact that they're gay has nothing to do with what they end up creating each episode- they are portrayed as intelligent professionals with unique personalities. Sort of as Eddie Izzard (who, oh, is definitely getting several reviews here- the definition of aestheically pleasing/culturally subversive) puts it, there is a seperation between day-to-day life and work and sexual orientation. "You're gay, and you work in a library? Well, you must shag the books."
Well, with all of that said, it was nice that when there was finally a mention of lifestyle, something meaningful was said. It was moving to remember that just because one is a fashion designer doesn't mean one grew up in a gay-friendly environment.
Also, I feel like Chloe showed her, um, bubble-headedness in these discussions. This might be another reason I grow weary of her.
"Hey, should I come out as a lesbian? Hee hee hee! I'm joking! Ha ha! I'm just joking, you guys."
"I have this bisexual friend- he's so interesting. He's so neat. He's truly, truly bisexual."

Once again, a design evoked the over-used term "vulgar". I know I'm not the only one who feels absolutely nothing thus far deemed "vulgar" has actually been the least bit vulgar. This week it was Nick's bright little dress, the theme of which seemed to be "not Paris Hilton". Somehow, they decided this thing was super-Paris Hilton, announcing it vulgar rather than pointing out its actual flaws.

It was reminiscent of some kind of giant alien or insect. A beautiful alien, perhaps; an insect on its way to a high-end party in Manhattan. Vulgar? Where were they looking? This thing belongs in a Saturday morning cartoon. The judges also announced that everything Nick makes is vulgar. Huh, well then, they better tell Mattel to recall all of those Barbies. Unless, as it seems, vulgar is preferred to boring when being peddled to children as a role model, but wearing a short skirt to a party or not covering your leotard completely when ice-skating are no-nos.
That picture reminds me, I noticed something this episode. I don't know how it happened, but,



Rachael is hot...? Maybe it's Nick's special touch. Part of the muse-ification.

So, I've many times referred to Bravo's odd choice of snapshots for the official website. I've also (tresemme) mentioned (banana republic) the many blatant (Barbie) product placements in Project Runway. As if Kara perpetually holding a bottle of Dasani or name-dropping Banana Republic over fifty times in one episode isn't enough for you, among the personal moments and design process, whoever picks all of these pictures thought this was an appropriate addition:


Final note: you know who probably would've rocked this challenge? A certain nerd.

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