Just a Biddy

Where ARE We??

2011-12-11T22:12:00.006-06:00

Because my family is a modern-day, cursing version of the Cleavers, we decided to forego our annual Shakespeare Festival Christmas Spectacular (because none of us really wanted to see a baby Truman Capote make fruit cakes or something with an old lady), and instead headed to Callaway Gardens for a whirlwind visit and a showing of Fantasy in Lights.

And so the trip to Pine Mountain, GA commences. Our cabin-hotel hybrid: delightful. Family time: Perfection. Giant batch of cookies courtesy of Habitat for Humanity Cookie Sale: delicious. We’re all stuffed with sugar and board the shuttle to see some Christmas lights.

We tend to be perpetually early as a family (This rule doesn’t apply to me as an individual, but when you’re in the Bassett Crew, you show up, at minimum, 30 minutes prior to the start of any event.), so we had a good 45 minutes to kill before our actual lights tour departed, which meant we got to take in the kill-some-time-and-give-us-your-money attractions that come along with the Fantasy in Lights tour. The funnel cakes stationed next to the goat cheese, wild mushroom and roasted red pepper pizzas…The inexplicable 20 minute wait for hot chocolate, and then there was the giant Christmas Village. There were adorable kids dancing with an evil-eyed gingerbread man, a grown-ass man who apparently requested a Priscilla Queen of the Desert inspired Rudolph at the face painting station, and my father mistaking a mentally challenged man declaring his excitement for seeing reindeer for my sister. “Was that you?” he asks. “Dad. That was the special guy behind us. What the hell?” Woops.

And then it’s time to line up for our tour. The only Christmas lights tour I’ve been on was at the Montgomery Zoo about six years ago—We bundled up and rode a cute little train all around the property, so that’s the mindset I was working with…Instead we were herded like cattle in preparation to board giant trucks. I leaned over my sister and asked, “Dude. Are they carting us to Auschwitz? Are we in Krakow? What the eff.” When the time came, we filed into our trucks and I awaited Schindler to hose us down at the first stop. Little did I know what the trip actually had in store…

As Ma said, there’s an asshole in every bunch. And ours was sitting directly behind us.

To give you an idea the guy sounded like:

Harlan Pepper

And looked like:

The mean D3: Mighty Ducks Prep School Coach. Right down to the mock turtleneck.

This guy. Woof. Apparently it's his family tradition to load up the wife, daughter and son in law and ruin everyone else's vacation. We knew we were in for trouble when we passed a fellow truck on their way out of the tour while we were on our way in and he hollered "MMEEEEEERRRRRYYYY CHHHHRIIIIIISTMAAAAAS!!!" with all the strength his hot air-filled lungs could muster. We had not been instructed to do this. He knew it would be asked of us later in the tour. He'd done this before. And the quoting of the pre-recorded tour can now begin. Our truck was being led by an imaginary horse named Snowflake. Douche bag neighs as if he's Snowflake. And we all appreciate it. Because we don't know what horses sound like. And in order to fully comprehend, we need to hear said neighing at 200 decibels.

What really got us was this guy's continuous stream of free association bullshit. "Look at them trees. Spooky trees. Spoo. Spaah. Spaghetti trees. Look at them there spaghetti trees. You see them spaghetti trees? Think you can eat those spaghetti trees? Bah wah ha ha huh yuck!!!" Or maybe the best part was how his mind seemed to be set on loop. Like he was a fuckin annoying, boisterous, Pentecostal preacher version of the forgetful, fishy, just-keep-swimming Dora. (While driving through the enchanted forest stretch of road) "Fireflies and butterflies. Look at them fiiiire-flies and buuuterflies. Butterflies and fireflies. Poin-set-ias. Pone-set-as. And there are them there fireflies and butterflies." Good Lord, make it stop. Put him down. Put me down. Do whatever we gotta do to shut this mother up or make me not care. He stomped along to "Jingle Bells;" he thought Swan Lake was a song. Then a book. Then a play. And that fella drowned. He can't wait to get him a fried Oreo. He's gone get crazy in Gatlinburg for New Years. Just you wait til he's all hopped on Mountain Dew. He's gonna come after you like a spider monkey. WHAT? There are grandparents trying to show the kiddies the toy soldiers, to practice counting the froggies. And you can't SHUT THE FUCK UP. We all hate you. You've ruined Christmas.

The tour finally comes to a close and we hop off as soon as our truck rolls to a stop so we can get just far away from the devil's earshot to talk about what an asshole he is.

Oh, the lights were pretty, too.

Our hunger only momentarily distracted us from our recent twatwaffle encounter; We sniffed around at the vendors, but the thought of paying $12 for a Polish dog didn't quite appeal to us. We decided to get out of the sea of dicks, pick up some takeout and eat at the cabin. Because we're not assholes. And we needed some time around non-assholes. After weeding through a gang of octogenarians, we hopped on the shuttle bus to head back to the rental property. But. We weren't quite done with rabble-rousers yet. We made a stop at a sister-property to drop of about half the shuttle, and guess what? Those seats were gonna be replenished with a rowdy, shitcanned group of miscreants. I'd say there was a gaggle of 40 waiting to get on. And only 20 seats open. They filed in one by one, each hoarding vodka cranberries. When capacity was reached, and the driver was closing the door, there was a sudden swell of drunken exclamation: NO!! THERE'S ROOM!! THERE'S A SEAT RIGHT HERE. HE CAN COME ON. THEY HAVE TO COME ON!!! WE'RE ON A WORK TRIP; WE ALL HAVE TO BE TOGETHER!!!" At that, our driver said, "Well, then you can get off then, because there's no more room. So sit down or shut it."

She's my hero.

We make it to home sweet parking lot and venture out yet again in search of food, basking in the glow and warmth of our superiority and non-fuckdudgery. Well, after a quick look around we found the historic restaurant district of Pine Mountain, GA.

Ah, yes. Nothing but class. We could've either had fried chicken next to the gas station or fried chicken next to a malt liquor store. We chose the former. As we pull into the parking lot, a man stumbles out and welcomes us with a massive purge. We are in for a treat. The 80 health rating is proudly displayed in a broken frame. A bucket of mashed potatoes sits atop a pile of styrofoam plates. Gravy-colored grease pours like lava out of an industrial faucet into a fryer. KFCs should not have open kitchens. As we await our bucket and its accoutrements, we watch a grandmother pat her husband's crotch and the purger refill stomach with Subway. I can't help but wonder how long it's actually going to stay put. In near unison, we all ask, where the fuck are we??

Finally we're home. Away from people, food in hand, happy to retreat to our Fortress of Solitude.

The next morning we have to get ready for our complimentary breakfast at the Country Store down the road (And you only have to wait for an hour for it. Awesome. Great deal. I was hoping I'd have an hour to check out your selection of "made in China" local wares and muscadine byproducts before I enjoy your bastardized Cracker Barrel breakfast.), but before we left I peak into mom and dad's room to find this:

Well shit. We are the Cleavers. Right down to the separate double beds for Ma and Pa. Who knew assholicness could be so volatile to a relationship?

Of course I kid. Kind of.

Next year, I say we stay home. Just to be on the safe side...

You are so dumb. You are really, really dumb.

2011-10-31T21:17:00.010-05:00

Hide yo kids; hide yo wives because they givin' Project Runway titles to errbody up in here.

Do I really have to say anything else?

Ok I will because I can.

Let's face it; this wasn't the most *anything* season. Not the most talented, dramatic, scandalous, entertaining. Might've had the most sob stories. And the most hair product. And the most mouth-breathers (Oliviiiiier counts for, like, 8 all on his own), but those aren't "mosts" that you really want to brag about.

The Final Four was bullshit from the very beginning. Anya didn't deserve to be in it, but for some reason...Could it be her charm, good looks, crazy mohawk and sex tape? Perhaps...She made it. And the judges knew how much help she would need to actually win this thing like they intended so instead of enforcing the traditional "Make one more look for your collection--GO!" challenge, they all get $500 and free range to do whatever the fuck they want. Giving Anya ample time to make some flowing, plunging, deep V caftans. Were some of them pretty? Sure. Could they all have been stitched together with pure gumption and hot glue? Yah. (By the way, please tell me everybody else got as big a giggle from her makeup consultation as I did. "The judges told me they look old. So I want them to look...younger." Brilliant adjustments, Anya. Just brilliant.)

Care for a closer look? The fabulous unborn fawns, Tom and Lorenzo, posted all of the decoy collections when they were released a few months ago (and I realized just how sad the finale show would be, and thus lost enthusiasm. Woops.) so let's take a look. And yeah...I link because I laze. But we're all cool with that, right?

Anya's Collection (Sidenote, aren't those polyester wigs of AR just so so sad?)

Viktor's Collection (Sadly, looking back it's pretty obvious Laura should have been in the finale. Despite her Aqua-worthy Barbie Girl ways...Hers had a lot of punch, man.)

Josh and Kimberly's Collections

It's crazy obvious that Anya's Breezy McBreeze collection has about 1/36 of the work put into it. There are more stitches in Josh's green lace up bike shorts than her entire collection.

Honestly, this was Viktor's for the taking, but he lost it in the endgame. Too much editing. Too much rethinking. Way too much sheer and high cut panties. If he'd stuck with his original prints, he'd be on his way to a (come on probably way) less successful Christian Siriano route. (I'm sorry but "Oh my Lord of the Rings" doesn't hold a candle to "Fierce." in terms of catchphrases. M'bad, V.)

All in all, I didn't see a winning collection. I did like pieces of each if that counts for anything. (Which of course it doesn't.)

Anya's

Viktor's

Josh's

Kimberly's

So there it is: The winning 10 look collection of this season's Project Runway. The designer: Anvikoshuberly. Awesome.

Final thoughts: Do I Gretchen-hate Anya? No. Should she have won? No. Should Viktor have pulled on his big boy shorts and stuck with his original vision. Hells yes. Should Project Runway have a nice, long think about who they are and what they want in the show? (Designers or sob stories and sex-tape girls?) Yes.

And that's that. Somebody please hire broke Joshie-Poo to design things out of plastic and neoprene. He'll scare the shit out of your manual labor and clean up those dirty mouths and loose threads, for HE WILL NOT HAVE either of those.

Until next season...

Wanna Fanta, Don't You Wanna Wanna Fanta.

2011-10-21T09:08:00.011-05:00

The season that will be known for its mediocrity and hair gel is coming to a close. The four stitching mignons are wrapping things up for a long nine days to design a 12piece collection for fashion week. (Seriously. They only get five weeks? That's insane. Didn't they used to get three moths? That's why they all blow. Boooo.) Anywho, Joshua packs up his tank tops, Viktor presses his Bermudas, Anya gathers her curtains and wind socks that she pretends are real clothing along with her bushels of bangles and Kimberly...Well she dresses relatively normal, so she just takes her hoop earrings and peaces out. Onward, ho!

They can barely blink an eye before Timothy Gunn, the Pinstriped Piped Piper comes a knocking at their door with the intention of leading them out of the fashion slums and into the light of couture where the streets are lined with gold lame and even whispering the word "jegging" calls for immediate exile.

Kimberly of Maryland is up first. There's equal admiration of each other's hotness, motorboat, motorboat, let's check out your studio. Kim's gotten a lot of work done (in probably 72 hours) for her Hard Edge Brooklyn Girl Gone Good line. Notorious TFG likes that it looks like Kimberly. I think it's loud. But I don't hate it. Probably because I like Kim. She shares her sad story (there are many this season), Timmy has lunch with her family and friends and they have leaves in their water. Gunn out, Bitches.

Next up Lord Gunnderson glops on his zinc oxide, secures his Windsor knot and heads to Trinidad to visit Aaaaaanya. They hop on a boat, she shares her sad story. Her brothers tell Gunny that their sister has become more than a pretty face and a sex tape. She makes maxi dresses now. However, she has not made any for her collection. She hasn't made anything. Because she can't draw any "new shapes." Oh good lord. Shake a can of pennies at it and make it go away. Apparently she's spent all of her time snorkeling and staring at her computer wallpaper inspiration and forgot she had to make shit. Get to work, strange mohawk girl.

Next up, we're back to New York to see Viktor. Tim pretty much doesn't stop drooling from the time he stepped through the door to the meeting of the Opie Howard boyfriend. Viktor's pretty golden with his brother's death anniversary inspiration textile and crazy coveted pearled leather jacket. You can take it easy, bro.

And last but not least...Joshua. In Queens. How fitting.

They have lunch with his sister and relive his track and field days (the Dapper Dan has only made him more aerodynamic) and Zack Morris Time Out: Why aren't the designers taking more advantage of Tim's visits. They used to do fun shit. Daniel V made him help pick out a fashion week outfit. Jay wore a wig and showed him his gun. Laura Bennett's kid made him touch turtle poop. I miss those days. Time in. On to Joshua's collection thus far...

Oh I'm sorry, is this a runway show or a mid-90s soda commercial? There is so much Fanta going on, it's not even funny. Gunnderson is horrified by his frumpy fug vintage textile, and appalled by the plastic-cross-your-eyes fabric he hadn't-yet-but-very-excited-to use fabric in the corner. In a word, he's concerned. As. He. Should. Be. Joshua freaks and...Commercial break.

The long five weeks are up and the designers are back together again, getting all sly-eyed as each unveils their designs. (Joshua drools over Viktor's leather and pearls. Who'da thunk it?) They're to present three looks to the judges that represent their collection and the weeding out will commence. Go!

Joshua

The first to be sent on his merry way to fashion week. All I can say is: Quoi?

This strange toga-catsuit hybrid was the first collection sent to fashion week. Buuhhh. There ya go. That's the caliber of this season.

Modesty tab, my ass...If I can still see side cuppage, there is no modesty. But at least with her neoprene cocktail dress she can scuba at a moment's notice. And if she can't scuba...What's all this been about? (Name that sitcom.)

Um...Club Girl plays racquetball? Jacket's all right. The go-cart safety belt is kinda tragic.

Viktor aka Who should have been called first.

I mean, seriously. Heidi made the model give her the jacket. She wants it. She didn't want to crawl in Josh's satin ass pants. This should justify Viktor having first pick at the free waters in the green room. Oh, and it's a really pretty dress.

Love this. It's actually pretty flawless. Let's just leave it at that.

Yeah, it could definitely do without the leather harness. Seriously, a little editing feedback from the judging panel of Short N Tight (although she was totally sporting a Mondo T, so...You go, Glen Coco), Orange and Fab, and Viktor has a pretty obvious winning collection.

Kimberly

I can't talk about these individually. Because they all have the same problem. #1 They're not going to sleep away camp so leave the overnight bags at home. #2 I think she asked Garnier and L'Oreal to style them like Fly Girls. Or Lida and Melina. It's true talk. They just look dirty and in need of a good scrub-down.

Anya the Auff...Wha??

Sad.

Sadder.

Saddest. This is a fucking black bathing suit. Show me a Wet Seal that doesn't carry this shit.

Now, I'm all for the tricky, "You're all going to fashion week!!" if they're all good. These were not all good. There was an obvious auff, and it was Anya. Her designs came in a palate of sawdust and were poorly done and not original in any shape or form. Not OK. I'd be pissed too, Ryan Reynold's Sassy Twin. So come next week we're at the same point we are now: Waiting still on inevitable mediocrity. And crying in foreign dialects.

I guess PR and I are on a break.

2011-10-19T21:18:00.004-05:00

It's not that I'm not watching...I've just been totally unmotivated since I saw the 3 final/7 decoy final collections. Which bleeeewww. Plus, thanks to Jersey Shore, I'm constantly distracted during Lord Gunnderson's critiques since I keep wondering what the hell Snookie's gonna do or throw up on this week.

Quick 3-week recap: they did another 70s challenge. Uniballer made his girls look dirty and cultish so they sent him home. Tim cried. I cried. We all cried. Miss you, AR. They had to design for birds. The owl got totally screwed over. Bert had to design for the tacky parrot. He revolted by channelling the bird's talons instead of his garish feather. And he went home. I ended up kinda liking him. Who knew? They had to be inspired by some park. They all made up inspirations. LK saw circles. So designed circles. And a night gown. She go home now. And here we are: Two episodes left and Viktor, Joshua, Kimberly and Anya are designing final collections. Which will suck. Damn you, Internet!

Now on the other hand...I've got my own little Project Runway going on in my living room.

Hellooooo Halloween costume. (I mean, I'm on the Halloween Party Planning Committee. I can't not go all out, y'all.) I wonder what it will end up being? Hrrm... :) Final product to be revealed come 10/31.

Anywho, m'bad, PR. I'll try real hard to recap the finale. If you're on your best behavior.

Don't be mad, dog. WE WERE ON A BREAK!

He is...quite large.

2011-09-28T16:22:00.010-05:00

Ok, let's keep it short and sweet since the new episode is on tomorrow and I had the rare opportunity of watching this episode with Sister, so let's face it: I was selfish and sucked up all the funny the night of and now the snark well is dry. (Ok, nearly...) To begin, let's start with the transcription of Oliver's one on one interviews.

Camera Guy: Tell us how you feel about this challenge.

Oliviiiiier: Well. I don't like it. Because my man is quite large. Massive, really. I don't have enough money for bolts of fabric. And even if I did our mannequins aren't equipped to handle the weight of that amount of textile.

Camera Guy: Is he really that big? He seemed sort of average.

Olivurieoruer: Oh no, he is ginormous. I'm quite surprised he was able to fit through the door to the workroom with those Shrek like shoulders. It frightens me. His guitar is actually seven feet long to appear in proportion to his Sequoia-like torso.

Camera guy: At least this is a menswear challenge. Menswear is your specialty, yes?

Olivaaaarlirrirrr: Well. Sort of. You see, I design for myself. And like my accent, my gender is a bit muddled. So really I design for flat people (Flat. Not fat. Fat scares me.)

Camera Guy: Well this should be a good learning experience. Not every client is going to be Barbie.

Olivooouuier: Oh Barbie would be a terrible client. You see, she has boobs. And those are unsettling. They just hang off one's chest being aesthetically unpleasing. And they're also filled with fat.

Camera Guy: Ok, we're done here.

Oliviiiiiiaur: But I haven't even talked about that band man's hot dog fingers. I just want to spread them with mustard. They stare at me and I find it unnerving.

Camera Guy: Seriously. Go away.

Oliviureousr: You're fat.

Oh, and there was a challenge (aka 90 minute Garnier commercial). Make the Sheepdogs, an unsigned rock band, stylish and what-not for their Rolling Stone cover debut. They were split into two teams but that was only for logistic's sake since each designer designs for each band member and there are four members, not eight. So each Sheepdog gets to try on two horrible outfits. GO!

First up the drummer. Good lord this poor man should have never said "tunic," because each of these ladies went dashiki crazy.

Kimberly

Anya

There's no need to review them individually because they're the same terrible muddy-brown, Shaggy-Greg-Brady-Bowler-Chicken-Shack costume. Sooo sad.

The Bassist (I think...) By the way, this guy is totally channelling Riding in Cars with Boys Steve Zahn, the coked out years.

Sorry, man...

Anthony Ryan

Joshua

There's just fringe and tacky. Fringe and tacky everywhere...And I'm with Adam Lambert. I dig the "Check out my Wang" zipper Joshua installed. The front row fans are gonna be looking for it anyway, might as well give 'em easy access.

Guitarist a la Laura

Relatively well made-ish. Those bell bottoms are excessive and none of the seams popped a la Anya, so... Whatevs.

Lead Singer Rock Star According to Bert.

What the hell, man? And WHY oh WHY is this being praised. 1. He gave a grown man pigtails. 2. It's a total Maude outfit. Tell me. Just tell me that Bea Arthur wouldn't throw this on to head down to the (gasp) abortion clinic. COME ON!

Lead Guitarist (Thank you, Viktor, for making one non-fucktarded look)

Hello obvious winner. Took pleather to a new level, made fringe not tacky and gave him real jeans that one wouldn't be embarrassed to wear in public. You rock, sir. Do work, son!

How Oliver the Douche would dress a Rock God

Ok, so maybe lead singer Sheepdog isn't an Almost Famous Golden God yet, but come on. Swans? Giant leisure suit front pockets? 3/4 length sleeves. GFY, Oliviiiiiier. We all hate you. Excuse yourself. No one will miss you.

Byeeeee.

Boooooooobs.

2011-09-20T15:21:00.014-05:00

Yes this post is horridly late. Excuse? None. Just le tired. And distracted by pirates (more on that another day). And Oliver Bumble Bumble No Boobs Bumbleson totally irked me the wrong way. But more on Horse Hair later.

It was the real women challenge, y'all! Which started with a fake out "Real Men" challenge. Oh they were so scared. This gang of misfits doesn't know how to sew for a crotch. With junk. And poor Anya would have tried to stick her man in a silk sarong (Forshadowiiiiiing for next week [aka this week. Oh semantics.]. Man that'd be sweet.) Obviously the most lady shaped (in terms of leanness, not man boobs) were cherry picked first, and the kids come to find they'll actually be designing for the wives or girlfriends of the misters.

What came next? Boobs. Boobs everywhere. Did you know women have boobs? And that Oliviiiiier hates boobs? And clients. And would ideally design for boobless feral cats. And then there were more boobs. And the men that loved boobs. Because they're men. Men who like women. Women who have boobs. One dress form motorboat later and I've officially stopped paying attention. Who knew the Project Runway Workroom could turn into a frat house so quickly?

Oh, Laura's also turned back into More Money Than God Barbie with the emergence of her "I wish I were More Money Than God Barbie..." Client. And Bryce is dying pink things pinker. And missing his boyfriend. And crying. And getting screen time. And obviously going home... And Ryan Reynold's sassy cousin Josh is desperately wanting to have a glitter explosion all over his dress. But is determined to follow the ways of the Sequin Kama Sutra and withhold.

And enough foreplay. Let's just get on down to the nitty gritty, shall we?

The Boob Wranglin' Mediocre

Oliver

Ok. Here's my beef. Squinty Pants acted like one of Cruella Deville's kicked spotted puppies when he had to actually design an outfit for a woman with her own set of pups. And throughout the consultation his glazed-over expression portrayed him as someone from a vague non-English speaking European nation, and not OHIO. Motherfucker, don't act like you have a language barrier. Your ass is Midwestern. Don't play. And then he made this outfit.

Um. How has no one said anything yet.

It's a more poorly made Kimberly-for-Nina knock off. The top's not sparkled and it's apparently designed for a woman's who's nursing...But tell me that's not the same outfit. Tell me. Send Raggedy Androis home.

Kimberly

Again, I wish Kimberly had gotten a little shout out or soemthing for this one. She doesn't necessarily need to be in the top, but Heidi could at least give a "Work that shit!" catcall as the girl walks off, right?

LK

Tinkerbell made a bridesmaid dress.

Cocks of the Wok

Anya?

I am so not on this train. And I love the prints. (As in, prints in general. Not this strange African moo cow print.) But there's just too much. All the fringe and the one sleeve. And the ugly. Just...No.

Viktor

Absolutely effing adorable. I need this in my closet. And if this is over-accessorized, I'd hate for MK to run into me come winter when I've got a bag, sunglasses, necklace AND a scarf on. Throw in a hat, and he may just pummel my ass.

Winner of the Golden Bedazzler

Joshua

Way to go, buddy! He was damn near charming this episode (thank the good, waxed lord), and he showed restraint. The man who in not-long-ago time decorated shoes with dog toys, produced this. An adorable, perfect, little black dress. You go, Glen Coco!

The Wah-wah-waaaaaahs

Anthony Ryan

Get this boy some birdseed; he needs to be inspired! I will say I thought this was kind of adorable. Is it slightly reminiscent of a Cheerios uniform? Perhaps. But I love kitsch and I love Glee, so I'd totally wear this dress.

Bert

His new name shall be, Buh-ert. Shiny, short and decolletaged (that's nice speak for "Tits McGee's dress"). No likey.

The Shunned

Bryce

Bless him. From where this dress started, he knocked it out of the ball park (Did you see the first draft? A pink re-working of his sad Nina dress. He came a long way, baby.) The pink worked, loved the big pockets (But they should never be used as feed bags, dear.), but the fit was off and was over-worked. He tried real hard though... So farewell, Mr. Rumbold. Go with Gaga.

Tim Gunn Thinks You Need Jesus.

2011-09-09T23:26:00.009-05:00

Welcome back to another week of Project Runway and the 73rd group challenge this season! The producers have found a gold mine in these group dynamics, haven't they? Eat it up while you can, sirs. We're also reincarnating the "Design your Own Textile" challenge from a few seasons back that brought us the illustrious and brilliant "ES hearts SA" print that finally allowed Emilio Sosa to declare his love for Seth Aaron in Comic Sans. Wasn't that lovely? I sure hope I get to see another overly used and tacky font grace the runway this season... (Forshadowiiiing...)

So we're shaking things up this team challenge by being sans leader (first time on PR? Think so. Maybe.), and that can only lead to perfect, harmonious goodness or... Mutiny. Once we see how the teams break down, you'll know I'm totally right.

Team Holy Shit the Other Guys Don't Stand a Chance: Anthony Ryan, Anya, Viktor, Oliver and Bryce

Team Holy Shit We Never Stood a Chance: Joshua, Laura Kathleen, Bert, Kimberly and Becky. Woof.

Both teams must design a five piece collection after choosing the three best new textiles from the group--Oh, and you have to produce the video to run in the background and check off which sound clips you want while neither will really matter in the final judgement, but Betsey Johnson will be brought in to entertain you with cartwheels. (Sadly, she's not returning to guest judge--That spot's filled by the tiny mouthed Rose Byrne. Shame Meeky Mouse isn't still there. They could have bonded over their inability to open their lips wide enough for words to spill out in a natural, unaltered form.)

Brainstorming!! The Golden Girls all shout "Chaos!" in unison and congratulate themselves by rolling through a field of daisies and give each other Eskimo kisses. And then there's Team Crazy Pants...On one side we've got Joshua wanting a collection inspired by the Village People ("Stop saying 'fireman,' LK--Now that's all I can think of!!" Baby, I'm pretty sure you've always got hoses on your mind. just sayin.) And LK is feeling sea amoeba. Suddenly those two ideas morph into clocks and the kids start drawing gears and an array of big hands and little hands. That made my brain hurt a little.

And poor Team HSWNSAC. There was just so much anger. Bert mutters something. Joshua scolds him for using inappropriate, rude, crude and socially unacceptable language. Blah, blah, grar, roar. Dapper Dan sends the loser trio off to Mood so he can spend time putting their video for the runway show together with LK. LK puts on lots of shoes and get in and out of lots of cabs. This is supposed to have something to do with clocks. Just hand over what you've got to the editing department; they'll figure something out, don't you worry.

Waxed Ryan Reynolds calls his pops and we find out it's just been dead mom's birthday and WRR didn't get to see her one last time because he was out in the big N.Y.C. trying to make his dreams come true. Stop playing with my emotions, Bunim/Murray! Anyways, Joshua returns to the work room and makes an apology with grand hand gestures of Evita-like proportions. Let's get on with the show. And by show, I mean critiques.

Pastor Tim of Bryant Park Parish enters to high five and motorboat Team Cream Filled Chaos, because they're collection is awesome and most obviously the winner. He essentially says that as long as the clothes stay on the models, they're a shoo in. And then he wanders over to the sea of chartreuse, cerulean and cogs and immediately shites himself. A quick wardrobe change later and he forces the designers to clamp their clammy hands and channel whatever spiritual energy they can muster in order to exercise the demon from those dress forms.

Now, we all know Pastor Tim is one of the holiest of holies, but sometimes there's just no fixing ugly. And now it's time for the obvious winners and obvious losers to stomp down the runway, and Joshua has decided to come in costume: a nice combination of Uncle Jesse's cousin Stavros and anyone from the Birdcage (the lesser known 7th Village Person).

Team Chaos, What Chaos?

The Swatches (Calm down. Not the pup. He lives at Mood.)

Anthony Ryan

I love this little look. And Tom and Lorenzo have totally turned me on to the pussy bow. I say it's so effing cute. Detail on the skirt is adorable and works fabulously with the print on the top.

Viktor

The model's face may be reading "stink eye", but that dress is reading "hells to the yes." How freaking pretty was that? Ridiculously stinkin pretty--That's how much.

Oliver

By George, he's got it. I think he's got it. Professor Higgins must have come in, slapped that flower girl around, shoved some marbles in her mouth and showed her who's boss, because I'm finally seeing something awesome from Vaguely European Oliver. Bout damn time.

Bryce

And then there's Bryce. Nothing terribly offensive. Nothing terribly deserving of chatter, so I'm just gonna leave it at that.

Anya

Because everyone on Team Smell the Roses is ever-so humble and voted for themselves as the best of the best of the pretty (except for poor Bryce who couldn't even fool himself so he voted for the one he felt most understood grain), Anya won. I'm still not quite sure why. I think her dress is adorable, but this should have been AR's win for all of his input in the concept or Viktor for that kick ass gown. It's just true talk man.

Anyway, I loved their entire collection. Want everything. And their textile designs were great, and there wasn't a Lucida Corsiva font in sight, so I automatically approve. Polite golf clap to all you, kiddos.

Team Nuts and Bombs

The Swatches

We're not starting off well, are we? Gears and Felt Tipped Roman...Buh.

Bert

Can anyone actually pull off that hem length? I just don't think it's in the cards. Either make it cocktail length or maxi. Weird calf-cutting dresses make me sad. And at some point in the evening, is she going to feel the need to unzip her boobs? Give the girls a little air? Are gears just far too confining for mammaries? The world may never know.

Joshua

I do like his interlocking jacket. The pants are what they are (far too chatty), and the top's a throw away. And I do believe he put his model in snow boots. What the hell has he done?

Kimberly

Kimmy was smart in staying away from the new textiles, but man oh man at that "curtain raising for an encore" skirt. Woosh. I give her credit for making a a skirt with some real interest rather than the black gyno tube skirt that's become oh so common this season, but yeah...need a couple more inches tacked on to this one. If the length were appropriate for outside of a gynecologist office, I'd so want this in the closet.

Laura Kathleen

I didn't hate her jumpsuit. Actually thought it turned out pretty well. Although, I would have said, "Eff you, Felt Tip. Get away from my belt." Guess I'm not as good a team player as LK. Woops.

Becky

Oh come on. It's the Nothing... (said in whispered breaths)

By the way, I love that this is the second time in my blog's history that I'm getting to reference the Nothing. And both have been perfectly appropriate.

Yeah. There's absolutely nothing to this outfit. The vents in the sleeves of the jacket gave a teeny bit of interest, but come on. Come on! Were you expecting to be praised for a home ec skirt and Cato clearance blouse? I. Think. Not. Go on home, baby girl. I'll miss what could have been...

I like real depressing music.

2011-09-02T11:35:00.017-05:00

Of course you do, Oliver... (deep sigh and shakes head)

But I so want your bag, so I'll forgive you momentarily for your Danny Downer-ness.

Anyways, let's get to the challenge at hand, because I am giddy with anticipation. Yes, giddy. Let's break it down.

1. TWO day challenge
2. Avant Garde (made with real Mood fabric and not paint trays or Chinese takeout boxes)
3. Inspired by wicked talented Harlem art student paintings
4. SWATCH!!

5. Lord Timmy Gunnfordshire CHASING SWATCH!!

Come on, there's no way this episode can't be a big big winner, right? Plus, I'm pretty sure I know what Bert's design is going to be:

It's an imitation Scaasi!

(If you get and love that reference as much as I do, we're soul mates.)

So the challenge really starts out at Harlem School of the Arts. Once the designers realize they'll just be using the students' artwork as inspiration and not actually designing their Halloween prom dresses, they lighten up and enjoy themselves. Except for Oliver who's burrowing under canvases to listen to his real depressing music on his walkman. (Walkmans are still the music vehicle of choice for faux Europeans, right?) Anywhooo, the students whip together some crazy awesome inspiration with Bob Ross speed and the designers head off to Mood. Joshie picks up faux fur. Anya finds some $5 fabric in the basement (It might be there for a reason, m'dear...). Now let's go all Trick Daddy and take it to da house. Or the workroom, whatevs.

Any drama that might have been production-prodded last week has been swept under the dress forms, because everybody seems pretty honky-dorey and whatnot. So let's give a quick drama-free rundown:

*They're trying to make me like Bert. He gets a video call with his family. And dog. And he talks about his dead lover. Don't make me like you, Bert! My mind's made up. I think. Crap.

*Joshua lost his mommy and gets teary. His bronzer's running and so is mine. (Not really, I'm not fabulous enough for bronzer. But I do get a little red-eyed and puffy-faced.) I lurv him.

*Bert is making MC Hammer pants. (Guffaw)

*Laura Kathleen used to burn her Barbies. (Eff you, Project Runway; Now I'm starting to like LK, too? I don't know what to do with myself.)

*Tim Gunn, Patron Saint of Watercress and Finger Bowls tells Kimberly to lay off on the feathers...You don't want to give Michael Kors the chance to reference Hiawatha on the runway. (Oh m'gah Notorious T.F.G., you are so dead on! [OK, so I don't know Tim's middle name, but taking my dirty mouth into account, what do you think it is in my head?]).

*Anya wears far too many bracelets.

*"I just don't want to blow it again." -Joshie- (THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!)

*"Then it always stretches out and then I cry." -Bryce- (That's what she said?)

*Ok, so when did Oliver become Irish? He's been "British" for the first few episodes, but his mouth is totally channeling Lucky Charms and shillelaghs this challenge...Weird.

*Speaking of the Mouth Melting Pot, I love when Tim Gunn shuts folks down in the workroom. "Whyyyy are you gluing? That is a construction issue that can't be mitigated by gluing. It's against the rules, Fuckwad." Oh, it's just delicious.

*Joshua sweetly strokes the small of Joshie's back. Ok, maybe he was just picking lint, but that's not what was happening in my head!!

And before we move on to the runway, let's enjoy a bit of snark from:

Viktor's a Funny Bitch Corner

"Oh my Lord of the Rings"

"I hope it doesn't look like a House of Dereon dress..."

"Who does a gown out of denim? And all those little boxes over here like FedEx just shipped em and left em there."

"Looks kinda like...Carmen Miranda and a vampire."

Ok, with Nina's absence the judges went a little cray cray. Was this not the most confusing breakdown of top, bottom and mediocre, ever? Kenneth Cole (aka Anti-Kors...You know, with the white jacket and all), I don't think you're going to be allowed back.

The "TJ Maxx Sell-outs and Victoria's Secret Model Say You're not Avant Garde Enough"s

What? You know you've seen those Kenneth Cole Reaction purses and tacky MK t-shirts hanging in the racks.

Anya

Um...It's a selection from the Dusty African Boudoir Collection. Not crazy about it. (But I guess it does channel the painting, blah blah blah)

Becky

Oh Becky. I love that to you, avant garde means a denim gown with asymmetrical hem and fuzzy dice tacked to the shoulder. God love ya.

Bryce

Ok Bryce. You've got the cray craziest painting of the bunch and you somehow give me a booooring "straight jacket gown." If you're gonna make a straight jacket, make a straight jacket. You just made really long sleeves. Because I have the arm length of a T-Rex, I understand this concept with nearly all of my sweaters and long sleeve t-shirts, and it's only reinforced by my mother rolling up my cuffs whenever she sees me. And that's just what I want to do to your model. Step up, man!! Gaga would never go for this!

Kimberly

I actually thought this deserved a little praise. It was interesting, well-made and well-inspired.

Viktor

This too--Now, I don't dig the vag fringe she's rocking, but his fabric manipulation and all the pleating and what not... Deserves some recognition, man.

The Most Avant Gardey

Joshua

Joshua wasn't thrilled about having an evil eye tree to work with, so he tweaked the inspiration to include Mom (swoon), by "carving" his and mom's initials into his neoprene hand-painted skirt (double swoon). I'll ignore the fact that the top looks like the inside of a CanCan skirt. I lurv him today, and that's all that matters.

Laura Kathleen

Ok...No...I mean, it's really well made, but I'm getting a melted butter feel. Not that I don't love butter. Just not on my dress. And I'm sorry, but when you've got to provide an outline including footnotes to the judges explaining how the dress and the painting are related, well, in the words of Melvin Udall, [they] can shampoo my crotch.

Anthony Ryan--The Victorious

Huh.

Not that I don't lurv AR. We know I do. But it's a craft project, no? Something one might sell on Etsy. With the same neck as his birdseed dress. I like the brush stroke "inspiration," but he could have at least shot for using the same color palate right? Fuck. Colorblind. I'm an asshole. Oh well, congrats One Ball Baton Rouger. (It was really worth him winning just so I could hear him squeal, "I’M SO EXCITED!!! I’m not a bridesmaid anymore. I’m an official bride; my groom can take me on my honeymoon; I have won." Lurv.

Avant Tarde

Oliver

Oh come on. Zero inspiration from the painting. And ugly. And poorly made. (I have no idea where the judges were seeing this "well made corset." I'm pretty sure the right half was made from a pair of St. John knit khakis.) It was sloppy, and I see his model's g-string. Eww. You do indeed make Valium clothes. Go. Home. Rabbit. Killer.

Bert

BAH! She's a pregnant clown whore. BAH! Something a Teletubbie would wear to a party. (Marry me, Michael Kors?)

Joshie--The Auffed. Again.

Oh no...Poor lil buddy edited too much and ended up with a Victorian cocktail waitress in Las Vegas with Faster Pussycat Kill boots. (No seriously--Marry me, Michael Kors?) It's obvious Joshie should be going home (for the terror of that skirt alone). If he'd kept it long and--dare I say it--with the fur, he may could have scraped by and Ollie would be outta here. Oh I'm sad. Please go make out with Josh before you leave, OK?

Oh Tim, I muffed it up again

You know that's the only time he'll ever say "muff".

Just sayin.

Her Demographic is 40 to Death.

2011-08-27T22:28:00.010-05:00

Ok kids, we're keeping it short and sweet this week because Sister is in town and we have horrible movies to watch and delicious homemade oatmeal creme pies to eat. So in the words of our friend, Mr. Marvin Gaye, let's get it oooonnn. WAAaaahhh...

Welcome back to the New Balance challenge. AKA the one from last season that we all forgot about except for the knockoff Lululemon winner. I think I blocked it out because of all the gray and drawstrings. Anyway, Heidi needs some looks to sell on Amazon.com to match her denim tennis shoes, so get to work minions!

And now a speed recap!

Becky should really consider keeping a spare comb in her bedside table. Po' 'ol Becky.

Cecilia might actually be dead. This scares me. If a mouth breather doesn't breath...What does it do?

For some reason, even though this is Heidi's fucking line, she still gets to wear her Louboutins while dear Dame Gunn, Lady of Wingtips, is forced to wear fucking sneakers. You know his toes must feel so squishy and he doesn't like it.

Cecilia is a mondo asshole crybaby who doesn't wanna run around the New Balance track. Oh, she doesn't want to be on the show anymore either. You know, the show you tried out for. Sorry you had to actually, you know, compete once you got on. GFY, Cece.

Oliver fall down go boom. BAH. BA-HAHA.

So lazy eye went away, but the designers got to choose who shall return. Since most of the departed are sallow face no-funners guess who got the bid...

Squeeeeee!

And now their true love can continue on course as planned. YES. First Project Runway wedding? Lord willing.

Oh, Bert's a major asshole. Joshua made Becky cry in a bathroom, but at least he's sassy and well-plucked. Bert. You are a sad, sad, little curmudgeon and I want to kick you. A lot.

Someone who looks like an emaciated Rumor Willis with a chin sharp enough to open a tin can was the guest judge. I fear her.

Oh, and there were clothes. And teams. What? That's an important part of a recap? Woops.

Team Who Cares Joshie's Back, Bitches!

Oliver

Joshie

Viktor

Oh my. Oliver made a sad, sad little number that a Duggar wouldn't even wear. I don't know where this woman is going. Because she's probably homeless and mentally ill, so I don't want to follow her. Fuck Yeah Joshie made a sneaker appropriate outfit. Nothing spectacular, but at'll do, pig. At'll do. Viktor kicked major ass and took home Win #1. For real want to own that outfit.

Team 40 to Death

Joshua

Becky

Anya

Joshua picks up Win #2 by managing his team so well through tears and forced servitude. Anya's dress, sewn by Becky and inspired by Josh's eyebrows will be available to the masses and bought by people that look like Anya. Becky's poor short and tight and lumpy number will look on it longingly, wishing it, too, could have been worn by a beauty queen and near porn star. Wah wah I'm not dowdy wahhh. Joshua's outfit says fuck you all. I"m a netted vest, bitch. I don't care what you say.

Team Bert's a Dick

Bert

Laura Kathleen

Anthony Ryan

Oh Anthony Ryan. Baby. One ball. It served you well in the race (being more aerodynamic and such), but perhaps it has also caused you to believe that flying squirrel camel toe is on trend. Woof McWooferson, I don't think I've seen anything more unattractive. More aesthetically not pleasing. More so so sad...Than this. Oh, LK made a strange vest, but I didn't think it was as horrid as pointy chin did, and Bert made a pillow case top for a slutty cocktail waitress in 1994. Oh, and I hate you Bert.

Team Bryce Looks Weird (as in Normal) Without Glasses

Kimberly

Bryce

Meeky Mouse

Bryce made a shiny potato sack dress with darts that looked like they were stapled in that for some reason the judges creamed for and found acceptable to wear with tennis shoes. (Huh?) No qualms with Kimberly's outfit except for the strange, built-in FUPA/GUNT pouch. Weird. And the dismissed...Meeky Mouse. A sad, floppy, chiffon tank top and unflattering (and bor--sl(*)kdfjalkdsfj. Woops fell asleep on the keyboard--ing. Take your teeny bow, your teeny mouth and ginormous braid and excuse yourself.

All in all, a fabulous episode. Meth bedroom eyes Cece and Meeky Mouse Danielle are auffed and bubble butt Joshie is back in the game and lookin' for love. Break out your best ascot and womanly chenille sweater and WORK IT!

Joan Crawford's St. Patty's Day Party. I'll bring the acorn squash puree.

2011-08-20T18:03:00.014-05:00

I'm afraid my critique this week may come out a bit *stilted*; I'm still on such a *high* from last week. That challenge really *towered* over anything that's been done in the past. The designers really *teetered* between fashion genius and sheer shit. (Ok, just joshin' about that last one. There was no fashion genius last week; I just really wanted to make that pun work. Although there quite literally was a ton of sheer shit, danke to Cecilia and Danielle.)

And that bit's a wrap! Let's move along to the challenge for this week:

It's Nina Motherfucking Garcia, bitches. Oh, I am in love. After last week's ridiculous, drape-a-flight-of-stairs-in-charmeuse challenge, designing a work to evening look for Nina, Dame of Taste and Quick Tonguedness is just what we needed. Get it to it!

Snips of Snark from the Workroom Floor

Oh m'gah, Cecilia is rockin' my nerrrrves. Plus she's the first person in the history of history to not find fabric at Mood. And really? In a moment of panic, the two colors you choose are in hues of grey poupon and silver skin? What is wrong with you?

Plus, we've found the mouth-breather of the season. Pair it with the least seductive pair of perma-bedroom eyes known to man and you get my least favorite person ever. (Can you believe she's beating out Laura Kathleen aka Too Pretty to be Poor? Me neither. But she hasn't said anything offensive to my ears since Episode 2. It's weird.)

Becky shops at Kohls. #1 I totally have this belt:

#2 I totally tried on this top. (Not flattering. It was a bad shirt. Asshole.)

I say this because I gotta let Becky in on a tidbit of information that would be beneficial to her self-discovery. One who shops as Kohls should not consider him or herself as "alternative" (as you tend to do, Becky). Do you know how many sweater sets I've picked up at Kohls? TONS. Oh, and you own a denim blazer. Lo siento Beckita, but strange feather earrings do not "alternative" make. Stick with quirky. Quirky is your style. Own it. And burn those Choctaw earrings, mk?

Ok, this isn't the least bit snarkful, but I gotta say...Dawwwhhhh! How effing cute are Anthony Ryan and fiance? So much adoring. Did the call serve any sort of purpose? No. Did it make me want to marry a gay Southern man swathed in cerulean tank tops? Hells yes.

Bryce wants to put Nina Use My Full Name Garcia in a cowl neck. Go fuck yourself. Dismiss yourself from the competition. You don't deserve to be here. Why don't you just go ahead and design her a velour sweatsuit. Get one of the crazy clown models from last week to make you some balloon animals and dress them instead. Helium and latex seem more your speed.

I'm gonna put $100 bucks on Oliver making NMFG a grey jacket and boxy skirt in a similar muted palate. All I've seen is the muslin (And thank you, Viktor for that design PSA...) and Oliver's vague expression, but that's all we really need to predict the fruits of his labor, yes?

And finally, good God, Danielle.

"My style easily transitions from day to evening, so I got that goin for me, which is nice." Shut it Spakler. That teeny tiny gob of hers is driving me nutso. From henceforth I shall refer to her a Meeky Mouse.

It's runway time and Tim Gunn, Earl of Earl Grey and Sucrets enters into an abandoned workroom. Wuh oh. Suddenly the pits and small of the back of his Zegna suit dampen. As he storms into the sewing room he gently and dapperly reminds the designers to pull their collective heads out of their asses and not screw this up. He will not look like a Welsh Pony's ass in front of Lady Nina G.

Now, since TG warned the designers not present a parade of grey on the runway, of course the grey contenders were safe. Huh. That makes sense. Let's judge them further, shall we?

The Muted Middle

Oliver

I. Am a genius. Replace "skirt" with "cigarette pant" and my prediction was dead on. And maybe Viktor explained to us the concept of muslin so we could all recognize it in Oliver's jacket. Weak sauce, O. Plus it looks sloppy awful. Two words that Nina Garcia abhor.

Laura Kathleen

If Nina were heading to a Feliz Navidad party, then yeah this would be suitable. That being said, it's cute enough. Well made. Essentially, what one should do when one has immunity (*cough* Bert *cough*). Plus, isn't her model the worst walker ever? Dumper McDumperson.

Joshua

Actually like this. And look at it: It's not covered in rhinestones and the shoes are sans flotsam. Our lil Joshie listened to the judges. I give Gypsy Rose Lee mad props for putting something clean and pretty down the runway.

Bryce

Bryce's attempt at a safe outfit. We get a boring dress with an atrocious hem. He should be reamed with a Singer sewing machine for that hem. Woof.

Bert

So. Fucking. Boring. Just go away, Bert. We're done now.

Becky

Um. It's all right. Again, the tiniest sliver of lime green piping isn't alternative. Bluughghh.

Anthony Ryan

A little Juniors Section for NMFG, right? So glad they didn't acknowledge the twin fabrics during judging because these two outfits really don't deserve to be talked about. (Sorry, kids.)

The Praised

Viktor

Like the shoulder treatment. Simple. Clean. Don't think the fit is awesome, but it gets the panel's seal of approval. Kerry Why Am I Here Washington takes it a little far by referring to the suit as a "piece." Sorry babes. This is gonna be in Macy's by the end of the year. And we're not at an art installation. Don't call it a piece. Let Joanna Coles talk for you.

Anya

Ok, so LK helped her finish the collar. Whatevs, I didn't piddle myself like you know Viktor did when she received her props, but I'm not gonna fawn over her sewing skills (the chick's gotta figure out how to construct an attractive crotch. Yeah, I said it. I am going to say--Yay you for not putting Nina in mustard, but instead dying the fabric (first time that I can recall designers manipulating Mood fabrics since Korto bleached denim back in the day.) Yeah, I'm pretty sure Dapper Dan and Uniballer suggested it, but she listened and did it. Muy bien.

Kid Tested, Nina Approved

Kimberly

Yeah, Nina pretty much creamed herself as this came stomping down the runway. And I don't blame her. The top is fab (a little shiny for me, but I don't work at Marie Claire), and the pants are wicked awesome. Plus she styled it to NMFG perfection, down to the one signature cocktail ring. Brava. Enjoy that win, lady.

Purse of the Lips

Meeky Mouse

Good glory to all that is sad and boring. Michael Kors sees his 1980s Aunt Mildred Pierce and Joanna Holy Shit Coles thinks she should be in the kitchen making acorn squash puree. I enjoy how she puts so much specificity and detail into her judgments. I like this woman and think she should be added onto the panel permanently.

Cecilia

Oh it's just a sad Holly Hobby baby vomit dress, isn't it? Shake a can of pennies at it and make it go away.

The Shunned

Julie

Oh Julie...This is the anti-Nina outfit. Know why? Because Kors imagines its pockets chock full of Kleenex, and obviously Nina La Serpentina Garcia uses Marie Claire interns as her tissues. And it's a fucking housecoat. Can you imagine her in a housecoat? Surrounded by cats? Shuffling along in heel-worn Birkenstocks? I. Think. Not. And so we bid adieu to Dog Chewed My Face (and droat) Julie. We shall miss your pueblo creations.

Next Week: Designers must race to be team leaders. Was the black velvet bag getting too boring? And. Um, designers aren’t athletes. Gatorade is not going to become a sponsor of Project Runway. Why oh why are they running? Are they designing a track team’s uniforms? Thy didn’t even have to do this when they designed Olympics Opening Ceremony outfits. What does Becky-Kohl do to piss off Dapper Dan? Does Oliver have a heart attack? Oh the confusion!

Chicken Creepers

2011-08-14T14:56:00.002-05:00

Popeyes, what have you done?

I mean, if you think about the concept of chicken fingers, it's pretty damn creepy, but this...Well, it's just making it too real. "Here you go, consumers. Grab ahold of this chicken's palm. Rip the digits from their sockets. Dunk it in this sauce of kitten tears while you're at it." Buhh.

It's like they've deep-fried Chanticleer's hand..

Rock-a-doodle?

I think it's waving at me.

Make it go away.

It's Off Grain, Bitch.

2011-08-13T15:41:00.013-05:00

Well, we've survived the unconventional challenge; no one came out flea ridden or is host to heartworms (although Fallene and Julie are looking a bit mangy), so it's time to move on to something a little more traditional. Like 8' models. Just think of it as another version of plus size. You'll be good to go as long as you have a barrel or two for your dress form to perch. On top of the stilts, this is also going to be the first outdoor runway open to the public and press. So press your dress shorts, Viktor and scoop on an extra dollop of Dapper Dan, Joshua; you're about to be all up on a fangirl's iPhone.

They'll have one day. $500. Channel Paris Couture. And Lady Gaga has a new idea for her next public appearance. (Bryce, you should already be inspired. *Foreshadowinggggg*)

Annnd...It's a team challenge. So let's break out the dreaded velvet bag and discover the Island of Misfit Toys' fate.

*Bert and Viktor: The Un-Ambiguously Gay Duo.
*Joshua and Julie: The League of Extraordinary Gender Swappers
*Danielle and Cecilia: Team Melba Toast
*Anya and Oliver: The Too Distracted By Our Accents to Design Anything Twins
*Kimberly and Becky: Team Passive Aggression
*Anthony Ryan and Laura Katherine: The Southern Balls (My bad, "Ball")
*Bryce and Fallene: Team Anemia and Abhorrence aka Oops I Shit My Pants

Partners and cringes established, the kids are finally off to Mood. They're so excited to actually use real fabric that the trip's relatively uneventful. Except for...

Bum da da dummm--The return of Swatch the Wonder Dog. Missed you lil buddy!

As the lil duos get off to draping and pleating, I can't help but notice that we have some look a likes in the workroom. We've already established Joshua (who I've moved into the "I dig ya" category, because "You are [not] rockin' my nerrrrves.") as the Queen Mary version of Ryan Reynolds, but there are some less fortunate doppelgangers in the mix:

Miss Julie. You better start combing your hair and work a little eye liner into the mix because right now you're channeling Smeagol and Anna Nicole's Cousin Shelly's love child.

Bryce on the other hand hails from the BBC because he's actually Mr. Rumbold from Are You Being Served. (Find that long lost PBS station around 10pm on the weekends [guess it's too racy for prime time] and you'll see what I'm talking about.)

The workroom is so not a happy place this week. We needed to feng shui the manikins or burn some sage or something because man, were people in a mood. Bert is pretty atrocious (As are his tapestry fabric choices. Woof.), and being a little snot nose, know-it-all. "Marlene Dietrich never wore pants and you're thinking Queen Ann not Queen Elizabeth; what are you? A complete fucktard?" Wowza, Bert. How bout you take off the ass hat and pop on a cheery chapeau. Preesh, cranky pants. Cecilia works in a constant grimace. Kimberly and Becky just seem to scowl at each other. I think Kimberly doesn't dig Becky's jean jacket and Becky can feel her hatred. Finally, Bryce must've interned on a farm or something. Maybe he wrote his thesis on fibrous wheats, because he seems particularly concerned about grain for some reason. Get the kid a box of Kix. One bowl comes with two servings of whole grains. Will that make you feel better? On a serious note, Fallene is self-taught, which means she cut her fabric off grain, essentially raping it in front of all the designers causing it to fall funkily and feel a world of shame. Grain. Grain, motherfuckin grain. Off grain. Fallene responds by being a big, big weepy squishy face, scraps her top, let's Bryce make a tube top (two words that should have no place on Project Runway), makes a hat and cries some more. There. Now you're all caught up.

It's time for the runway show folks. The special stilt walker models get Garnier'd and TRESemme'd and the whole motley crew head down to the docks to strut their stuff. (And Fallene cries some more.)

And I've gotta confess: I couldn't really form a reaction to any of the outfits because, um, all of the models look and walk as if they've shit themselves. I find it off-putting and distracting.

We Have Accents and Immunity. Send Us To the Waiting Room

Anya and Oliver: There's really not much to say, is there? It's a dingy nightgown and patchwork vest. Whatevs.

*Heads* Above the Rest (Get it? Because they're on stilts.)

Kimberly and Becky: Would it be off color to make a cerebral palsy joke about the model right here? Thought so. Ok, I'll just say this: The model's gate and Geri Jewell's have a few distinct similarities. Ok, that's done. On to the outfit. Everything's well-tailored and executed. Becky's pop-of-color collar isn't a big hit, but that's nothing to really hate on. Safe. Proceed to the donuts and bottled water room.

Danielle and Cecilia: Oh good Lord. I was not OK with this. Congratulations on pleating three miles of chiffon in a day. It's very Joan "No Wire Hangers" Crawford on casual Friday. I'm sorry but the ass is Goldie-Hawn-Death-Becomes-Her-Frosting-Out-of-the-Can huge. The neck is bedazzled and the hair. Excuse me, BAH!, is absolutely tragic.

The Winners!--Anthony Ryan and LK: Definitely my pick for favorite too. Good job this week, judges! The color, the flow, the hot glued feather shoulder pads...All awesome. I hate that LK took the win, but Uniballer was a bona fide Southern gentleman and gave it to her on a silver stilt. And she didn't say anything offensive this week, so I guess the other double-named of the crew was a good influence on her.

Thar She Bloooows

Oh Josh and Julie...At least you gave the judges a chuckle, right? I must say, the most tragic part of the garment wasn't the Ringling Brothers pant, but the horrid, shiny dance wear tank top. I didn't even think Mood would carry that fabric. Good Lord at the shine. But really, all I could think while this was stomping down the runway:

(Except replace "head" with "legs.") You know you did, too.

Viktor and Bert: Um, Bertrude is an evil queen, and I don't know who he blew to get on Heidi's good side. (Seal? Did you get a kiss from a Rose?) Anyway the whole thing's a giant curtain with a gold mesh napkin tucked into the bust. Boo.

Bryce and Fallene: Gah, don't these two kids just look clammy? And let's face it: It's a giant storm cloud tutu on bottom and a tube top upstairs. It's the nothing. Like, Neverending Story-worthy the nothing. Yeah the headpiece adds something, but Fall...A headband does not a lifesaver make. You go home now.

And thank goodness. The little pixie I once dug is long gone. All that's left is a squish, squish, leaky, mushy face that I desperately want to scrub down. Fare thee well, Country Mouse Coming Off a Bender. We won't really miss you.

Y'all stay seated. It's all good.

Next week: Designing for Nina Garcia. Two words: Holy. Shit.

This is gonna be good.

America circa 2041 is doomed

2011-08-11T16:14:00.002-05:00

Because in 30 years...These will be our leaders:

Saryniti
MaKenzie
Lynsie
Kelci
Ellisyn
Kiara
Jaclynn
Aishlynn
Teeghan
Taralyn
Angelle
Halia
Aaliyah
Sparkal
Morghan
Elexis
Makynli
AshLynn and BreAnne
Jadyn
Kaleigha
Brionna
Aja

Otherwise known as recent contestants of Toddlers and Tiaras. These are not real names. Can you imagine a President Sparkal? Or a Doctor Sarayniti? (and in case you're curious, yes, that is pronounced "serenity.")

Their names paired with the facts that each of these girls know what the word "diva" means and can do the booty bounce by the age of four does not bode well for our future.

Think I just threw up in my mouth a lil bit.

Woof.

I had rabbits. But they all died.

2011-08-09T14:41:00.015-05:00

Oh Oliver. That’s right: Oliver. As in “And Company” or “Please, sir, may I have some more.” You lost the extra “i” when we found out you lived in Ohio until you were 16. Accents or non-accents are well developed by the time one is in his mid-teens. That is unless you were a deaf mute until you moved to Paris. If that is indeed the case, my apologies and your superfluous “i” will be replaced. But I’m gonna need that in writing and notarized by your physician, Dr. CitizenoftheworldmyassIgrewupinColumbus.

Anyway, Monsieur O leads us into the challenge of the week: Hello unconventional materials!

Timmy's excited.

This season the designers are foregoing car parts, Gristedes, Party City and the Hershey Factory for... Duh dum da duhhhh: Petland SuperStore! Yes. I would like to see a garden snake cuff and Frontline hair bows as accessories please. Go! (Time out. Wouldn't a Swatch cameo have been perfect this episode? Yes. Yes it would have. Time in.)

The work room hasn't been declared an official drama zone yet. Viktor is making terrible Bring it On comebacks (That's all right. That's OK. You're gonna pump my gas someday. Really? That was lame in the 90s, man. Get more fabulous!). He does however coin, "This isn't fashion. It's trashion." Gotta say it like a bitchy queen though or else it loses its punch. Laura scraps her cone skirt idea. Guess the model could still chew on her ass, thus defeating its purpose. Julie is designing a Corto seat belt coat knock off. Bert is totally phoning in this challenge. He might as well have dressed his model in an extra large puppy sweater and called it a day. Anthony hasn't mentioned ball cancer or color blindness once-You go Glen Coco!

Eventually the 12 hour hot glue binge had to come to a close and now it's time for the runway. Let's see what the cat dragged in, shall we?

Winning's for the birds. We're safe, motherfuckers!

Viktor: Congratulations for making wee wee pads not look like wee wee pads. And screw you for making us all say wee wee pads so much this episode. The dying came out really well. It's a shame the dress is way way too simple. Michael Kors is right. You only need crazy accessories when the outfit's a bore. (Cough, cough giant necklace, faux hawk hair *cough* studded belt.)

Laura: It's not awful. But I think it's stiff (guess that's what a cardboard skirt gets ya) and the gaping in the weaving drives me nuts. I still hate you.

Kimberly: She tried real hard. But to me it's totally reading Jillian's Twizzler dress. Except sloppier and I'm gonna guess it doesn't smell like cherries.

Julie: Oh good lord. What a walking mess this dress is. This. This right here is the definition of "trashion," people. And that poor model's gotta smell like Alpo, right? That smell doesn't just go away because you dump the food out. Double woof to you, poor man's Corto.

Danielle: I hate this look. The top resembles a fish net being cast to catch sad, lumpy aubergine carp. Paired with Kelly Kapowski's acid wash denim skirt makes this outfit completely tragic.

Cecilia: Coloring in the skirt's not bad. Well, not bad for hamster bedding. But let's face it, the shape and design is uber-simple. Makes me wanna curl up in the leftover bedding and have a nap. (Oh, but color-me-happy that she didn't go through with using dog food on the actual outfit. My god at the potential, smelly tragedy.)

Bert: Bertram. We have a problem. Scaasi would kick your ever-loving ass for parading this down the runway. First of all, I love how Bertie says he's gonna leave the clowning around for this challenge to the kids, yet he was the only one to incorporate a Bozo the Clown ruffle into his design...Secondly. Take this coloring book and go sit in the corner. The grownups have work to do and people to judge. Be ready to play with the big boys and girls next week, would ya?

Becky: It's Toucan Sam's mistress, man. A den mother dressed for Carnival. (But I still dig ya, Becks because ya called Josh out for putting puppies on the puppies. Now that's true talk.)

Anya: Again, props to a chick who doesn't know how to sew. Good thing this challenge involved a lot of hot glue. The top looks pretty similar to what came down the runway last week, though... I'm anxious to see what she does when she can't hem with Gorilla Glue.

The Cocks of the Wok

Joshua: Ya know, mad props for creating that pattern and not sending down a gyno-skirt, but the styling's atrocious and that top is screaming Gretchen at me. Don't make your clothes say such horrible things next week, mmk? You're the best, hugs and kisses.

Anthony: Yes. Yes. Yes. Love this dress. It's like edible tweed. It'd make Tippi Hedren flip her shit, but it'd be totally worth it. And I'm sorry. I don't see her ass cheeks or lady bits so it's totally not too short. Screw you Garcia.

Oliver: The Victorious. Ok. I don't dislike this look. I think the design is really chic and the ombre on the skirt is fab. I don't mind that he used bedding, a "conventional" material on the top. He did enough work making hamster shavings look fashionable. BUT. How can the judges not mention the fact that his model looks three times her actual size. If anyone looks like they're nursing in this challenge, it's this chick. And the mulch eyebrows creep me out. It's well-deserving of 2nd place, but for once the panel should've listened to Heidi and given the win to Mr. Rock One.

The bottom of the litter box

Bryce: There's really not much to say on this Depends for Pups inspired dress, is there? When Heidi wants to piss on your garment, there's not much rock bottom left for you to hit. Fab up, Bryce.

Fallene: B-b-b-boring. Styled horribly and let's face it. It's the runner up outfit from the Miss Horn O Plenty Festival. It probably should have just been "safe" and Julie should be going home for her Iams-inspired bullshitness instead of...

Josh: Dooohhh Joshie. So so sad. I still don't know why he changed his top and shortened the skirt from the original design.

Way cuter, right? I actually thought he'd be safe all during the workroom scenes. And I'm sorry, I don't consider an umbrella to be "conventional materials." because it's an umbrella and not a fucking table cloth. Just sayin. But what I'm most upset over...

The Joshes will never get to consummate their love on national television. Oh the unbeknownst passion. You know you feel it too!! No woman will ever make you feel the way Joshua's bronzer does!!

Look at that face. Tim Gunn does not get weepy for just any one. Only bow tied Mormons who have yet to figure out that they haven't met the right boys yet can bring Sir Gunn to tears. (But he has. And his name is Joshua. He over plucks and accessorizes, but you could have had such love!)

That's right. Take comfort in curling next to Papa Tim's ascotted bosom. We shall miss your destined-to-be-bottomed bubble butt and potential flamboyancy. Ahh...We weep for what could (and should) have been.

For once I agree with your face.

Never Enough Tim Gunn

2011-08-02T20:00:00.004-05:00

Don't defend the shoe to me, Wendy.

This inconceivable shoe!

Are you speaking foreign?

2011-07-30T17:21:00.021-05:00

Oh my lovelies, we are back. It's been far too long since Lord Gunn, Patron Saint of Kicky Textiles has graced my screen and I'm oh-so-thrilled he's made his silver fox return. Let's jump right in and meet the designers, shall we? Thankfully Lifetime put together a Road to the Runway special so I can make snap judgments that may or may not last the the whole season...But only time will tell. Let's start with:

Straddling the Fence Between Fab and Fail (or Boring)

Gunnar
#1...That's not a real name. Don't play like it is. #2 I want to like you, with your adorable Flock of Seagulls hair swagger and your cun-try flair, but I'm just not feeling it. Oh, plus you presented Heidi with a pink, satin Derby dress. Yeeeeah. Not smart to do in front of the frau.

Kimberly

I jus--Eh hrm. I think she's gonna make me tired. A little too much sass. A little too much diva. We shall see.

Bert

I so want to love Bert, the old queen. Give him a nice noble title; something like Honorable Lord Bertie Blass Givenchykikins, but he's just kind of falling flat.

Anya

I don't want to like her. She's wearing a giant romper. She entered a beauty pageant on a whim, became Miss Trinidad and Tobago, went on to Miss Universe, made a sex tape, and despite not being able to sew, has made it on to the show. But she opened her mouth and I didn't hate her. Hrm. Gotta wait this one out.

Viktor

Don't remember much about Viktor. Hence the category placement. Dig the shoes, though.

Cecilia

Only wears her own designs. (hrm) And seems kinda like a bitch, but maybe a funny bitch. Let's see how far that horrible satin jumpsuit of yours takes you.

I Dig Ya

David

There wasn't much to little Davie's personality. Inoffensive is a pretty good descriptor. But I really liked his designs. I think he'd make pretty things without pissing me off. That's supposed to be a winner, right?

Becky

Aw spunky Becky. A little older than the other chippies this season, but she's not here to play mom like Peaches or Wendy Pepper. (Nor would she ever wear Peach's country club sweaters or Pepper's horrific, well, anything. P.S. Lurv you Peaches! P.P.S. WP...You can still suck it.)

Anthony

The Baton Rouge Color Blind One Ball Wonder. And he calls Tim, "Mr. Gunn." Adore. (But the cancer schtick is gonna get old quick. Have a feeling he'll be able to reel it in once the obligatory "story-telling-meet-the-designers" first few episodes are over though.)

Rafael

I like anyone who looks like David Blaine but sounds country as corn pone. Work it, Raffie.

Julie

Did not expect to like her. I mean, she looks like she's on her way to softball practice and the pieces she presented to get on the show were variations of that typical stoner hemp hoodie, drug rug. And with everything being so "naturally draped" and held together with belts I was afraid we'd have an English-speaking Ping on our hands. But ya know... She's no nonsense and no bullshit. Like it. Dig it.

Fallene

She reminds me of a little pixie. A little hipster pixie. I can work with that.

Olivier
Still don't know if his name is Oliver (as in "and company") or Olivier (as in "first name Laurence"), I also don't know if that accent is legit or Madonna-inspired, but I kinda find him adorable.

Bryce

Doh...Lil socially awkward Bryce who just desperately wants to design for Lady Ga-ga. Wanna put him in my pocket.

Josh

Someone should really tell this "looking for the right girl Mormon" that his ascots, bubble butt and tendency to cuddle against the other Josh of the group would make him a fabulous homosexual. Let's see what happens!

Nuh Uh. We're Not Gonna Be Friends

Amanda

I did want to like you...I really did. You went to Alabama. I would like to have that connection when I talk about Project Runway with people. "Oh yeah, Amanda's design was awesome! You know she went to Alabama. I think some people I know knew her..." But yeah. Way too chipper. Too too chipper. And pink. So much pink. And tacky ruffles. Yikes. "Taste level" will definitely come up in judges conversation.

Serena

You are inexplicably offensive. I get the feeling you're a mouth breather. You design too much sheer shit. And you're a bit too obsessed with Tim Gunn. (Which I did not believe was possible. But there's a threshold. And starting a girl band in his honor is it.)

Joshua

I should love him. He's quite fabulous. But all I can see is a bitchy queen menswear designer. Do something endearing so I change my mind, mmk?

Danielle

Ugh. Just meek and mousey. And doesn't open her mouth to speak. It's weird. Mumble Mumbleson, I don't think there's much hope.

Laura Kathleen

Woof. Atrocious little person. If the only rationale you can present for having you on the show is because they haven't had anyone as pretty and perky as you on before, congratulations. You are a twatwaffle. Please hop networks and go on Toddlers and Tiaras where you belong, ok?

And Now...The Real Show!

Ok, I’m so loving how we started this season putting each designer head to head with the I Ching of judging panels, because you’re not on the show yet, bitches. Four, count em 1-2-3-4 are going home before we even make it to the workroom. Or a random rooftop for champagne. (By the way, note to Cecilia: You showed off a white collar button up to Heidi, Michael K, Nina and Tim. Something an Olive Garden server might wear. What the hell is wrong with you? You’re swiftly moving into Not Gonna Be Friends territory.)

Now for the early auffed: Serena (Ooo maybe you shouldn’t’ve [What? That’s a totally legit contraction.] canceled that wedding of yours. Woops.) Amanda (It’s all for the best, m’dear. Nina Garcia would have ripped that princess Quinceanera aesthetic of yours apart.) David (Wah wah wahhh. Somebody was too boring for TV. Sad.) Gunnar (Told ya showing that Derby dress was a bad idea. Wuh oh.)

Ok, the Sassy Sixteen have been chosen so let the games begin!

The Challenge: After a dapper Tim in orange gingham rouses you from your slumber, use your pajamas and bed sheet to make a look, any look will do. They will provide the dye, buttons, flotsam and jetsam. Go!

(Although, before the work can begin, the designers must parade through Time Square in their sleepy-times. And I begin to fall for Kimberly as she points out the Red Lobster with the vain hope that they’d get some cheddar biscuits. Bless her.)

Work room wasn’t terribly exciting. Got to see Anya learn to sew, Tim says “pubic patch,” the vile Laura asks Olivier if he’s speaking foreign when he and his model are conversing in Italian. (FACEPALM), and Kimberly says “nut juice.” (Yes, you are moving up to the Dig Ya category, m’dear.)

Let’s just hop on over to the runway. I warn you. I’m gonna say boring. A lot.

The Safe and Sad

Viktor--Actually kind of adorable. I'd totally pair it with a cardigan and wear it to work. But maybe that's not a good thing. Guess that's why you're just safe, kiddo.

Olivier--After seeing what he auditioned with, I'm not the least bit surprised to see a suit jacket on top. I am surprised to see the first of many throw away bottoms. Jesus, there is nothing to that skirt.

Laura--Sad rain cloud loosey goose pants. A whatevs top. Bluh. And bluh to you just for being you, Laura!

Kimberly--I'm actually feeling good about the top. But. Yeah. That is one ill-fitting trouser. Yikes.

Joshua--Pretty boring. And that skirt is ridiculously short. Seriously--Are sad tube skirts back in style? No one told me. But ya know...Sir Joshua is reminding me of a fabulously eye-brow-arched version of Ryan Reynolds. I'd be happy to watch you progress, sir.

Fallene--Actually kinda cute. Even if there is a puking clown...Not bad.

Danielle--Nothing to it. Bored. Sleepy. Guess there are more parallels between this challenge and sleepwear than I originally thought. And the fact that Danielle said upon being safe, and I quote, "I am not in the right spot. Like, what the hell. Like, that’s not good enough.” Um. This is why I didn’t like you, Danielle. And that’s why my opinion of your mousy ass has yet to change.

Cecilia--Good God at the curtain call. I can't even concentrate on the rest of the outfit because that skirt is on the verge of assaulting my eyes. Not to mention it's somehow sporting a marsupial pouch. Just weird.

Bryce--I've never been a fan of the bell sleeve and Bryce isn't making a believer out of me. And again...Is that another boring tube skirt? The answer, in case you're curious, is yes.

Last but not least, Becky--Kinda cute. Again, I'd totally throw on a cardigan and work that at the office...Again, probably not a good thing on this show. Woops.

Yikes That Was Close

Julie--Julie, Julie, Julie. Don't make me regret diggin' ya, lady. First of all, the fact that you're a grown woman and wearing those pajama pants is just sad. Were they a gift? Woof. And B. Those pants. That abomination of a pant. Buuuhh. Although, I do think Michael Kors coined a new term with the "I Like Myself Pocket," and really I think we're all better for it. Do better next time, mmk?

Josh--Never have I seen cotton look more uncomfortable. It's channeling Little Gray Riding Hood. The sad, poorly dressed fairy tale. And how did he construct shorts that managed to give his model a penis? I guess that's kind of skillful. But oh the reverse seaming and that horrible front panel. You should be thanking Joseph Smith that you're still here, man.

Something Had to Rise to the Top

Anya--You know, props for "not knowing how to sew" and making pants and sewing silk on your first challenge. Now, the judges loved these pants. They were deemed good ass pants, but. Um. I find that crotch atrocious. What's she smuggling down there? Please do tell me.

Anthony--I like the top. He didn't totally redesign what he had already or anything, but still: it's pretty cute. The skirt though. Jesus H. Christ. Enough is enough. Damn. Tube. Skirt. Except this one comes with a feather landing strip. No. Bueno.

Adios Amigo

Rafael--Too bad, dog. You know I liked ya, but there is no excuse for that swegging (that's sweatpant legging for those not in the know) you put before me. A gray, high waisted, swegging. Ewwww. At first glance the top looks near decent, but one close up and you see pulling threads and sloppy sloppy construction. Not even gonna talk about that leopard bib. But it's totally a bib, man.

Victorious!

Bert--Way to go, Bertie!! Totally cute dress. Definitely deserved the win. And now that the stress of the first show is over I can tell he's loosening up and is becoming the the dear-heart I knew he could be. Looking forward to lurving you! (But dear Lord, let one of the young kids help you style your girls. That hair is Desperate Housewives woof-worthy.)

Until next week folks...Keep the snark alive.

Letters from the Biddy

2011-07-26T15:33:00.005-05:00

Yet another idea I hopelessly stole. But the ramblings are all mine.

Dear Fellow Elliptical User,

If you could pretty please with a cherry on top not use the neighboring elliptical pedal as a key holder that’d be great. You see, when there are only four machines to choose from during the 5:30 post-work workout rush hour, these babies tend to fill up fast. And your keys make it look like the machine’s user is just in the bathroom or something, and I’m forced to hop on the squeaky tredmill. And also forced to jog to a podcast because I have not prepped myself with the proper playlist.

Mal-prepared,

Mellie

P.S. I don’t care if Comedy Bang Bang is funny. It doesn’t exactly come with a beat.

P.P.S. Oh, if you could also not lather up with shea butter before your workout, that’d be awesome.

P.P.P.S. If you do, wipe that mother down when you’re done. Come on. Not wiping down your machine is the equivalent of emerging from a bathroom stall, forgoing the sink or bacterial hand gel and just licking your palm instead. It’s just icky.

Dear Josh Ritter,

I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of? I’m afraid that I’m not sure of…Well, a love there is no cure for. And you make me quote David Cassidy. And I fuckin hated the Partridge Family. Ridin around on their abrasively painted bus, playin tambourines, velvet vests. Weirdos. But you are delightful. I dig your red socks. And your bear hugs. And when you tickle yourself (figuratively, not literally) and giggle in the middle of your songs.

Hopelessly devoted,

Now-she’s-channeling-Grease Mellie

Strategically photoshopping this and sending out Save the Dates would probably be creepy, right? Dammit.

Dear So You Think You Can Dance,

You rock. But you’re over-doing the mid-routine kiss shtick. Unless your names are Kent and Lauren and you’re pretending to be at prom, I don’t need you locking lips. So far this season we’ve had at least seven routines to involve tongue, and I just think it’s strange. And Sasha, your little ploy to plant one on Alexander after a mediocre routine in a vain attempt to be kept out of the bottom four…Uncool. And Nigel, you kind of mouth raped Mary. Also uncool. And skin cringing.

P.S. Now, if all-star Robert and NPH wanted to makeout a little on last week’s episode that would’ve been totally different.

P.P.S. And let’s face it, a way better show.

P.P.P.S. Having said that, if Sasha and Twitch had decided to take their lyrical hip hop a more coital route, I’d have probably been OK with it.

P.P.P.P.S. Twitch…Um. Call me, mmk?

Update:

Dear Pinterest,

Why must you make me awkward? All I wanted was to be able to keep track of delicious-sounding recipes and potential, future craft items. But for some reason you made me "follow" everyone who's ever thought about Pinterest that I may somehow know through someone on Facebook. Holy face palm.

Doh!,

Mellie

P.S. It's hard enough for me to not be awkward already.

P.P.S. Danke for making me spend my first hour on Pinterest clicking "unfollow" instead of actually pinning shit.

P.P.P.S. Um, did you actually make me sit on a "waiting list" before I signed up? Losers.

Truly, Truly, Truly Outrageous

2011-07-19T16:38:00.016-05:00

Imitation is truly the sincerest form of flattery. It’s also the quickest solution to blogger’s block. Which is why I’ve chosen to employ the illustriously sassy and curmudgeony, Una-current-blog-icon-LaMarche’s potentially meme-in-the-making blog post “Ten 80’s Movies Outfits I Covet Beyond All Reason,” make it my own and thus receive all future credit.

I hadn’t really thought about it before, but there really are some outfits that I put-the-lotion-in-the-basket coveted growing up. As in, had Debbie Reynolds put any of the costumes listed below up for auction, all would be hanging in my closet (except for the cartoon ones. I’m whimsical, not illogical.), and I would be in ridiculous debt. But it’d be worth it. Because, my friends, my childhood fashion diva would finally be at peace. (Time out. Ok, you haven’t seen what I’m about to show you yet, but there’s no way I can describe my younger self as a “fashion diva.” Should really rethink that phrasing, but I’d like you to go into this thinking I’m about to lay some serious fashion on your ass and then have you spit up a little, mid-chortle, as you come across the first poofy sleeve and ankle boot. Time in.)

Let’s begin, shall we?

Molly Ringwald in Breakfast Club

My favorite Ringwald of all the 80s Ringwalds. What you can’t see in this picture are those killer knee high flat boots and her wicked awesome leather bomber jacket. I would seriously wear that outfit tomorrow. Ok, maybe not tomorrow because it’s hot. And that much leather in the hot sun does not a good day make. (Insert mental image of Sweaty Leather Pant Ross)

And the lotion and powder have formed a paste!

Liesel from Sound of Music

Ok ladies (and some gentlemen), you just try and tell me you didn’t daydream to dancing around a gazebo with a young, blond, not quite a Nazi yet, telegram delivery boy. You can’t. It’s impossible. Because you did. I still do when I let my mind wander. I want to wear that dress and squee in the rain in front of oddly placed tree limb shadows so it looks as if I’m missing teeth. (Go back and watch that scene. You’ll know what I’m talking about.)

Belle from Beauty and the Beast

Enter the first cartoon. And I’m thinking outside the illustrated box. Nope, not jumping on the yellow ball gown bandwagon. The red, playing in the snow dress is my absolute fave. I want that fur lined cloak. Except mine would come with a muff. (Hold the jokes. This is a family-friendly movie, folks.)

Baby from Dirty Dancing

Let’s kick up the heat, mmk? Now Baby’s not quite what one would call a fashion icon, despite my love of the last-dance-finally-does-the-lift-dress (Oo, or her white jeans and peasant top she wears when she finally sleeps with the help), but that’s not what we’re here to talk about. This outfit, ladies and gents is the Nobody Puts Baby or Her See You Next Tuesday in a Corner outfit. Get it girl. I never knew how she managed to fold pantyhose over bikinis, but by the grace of Jehovah, she pulled it off. Rarr.

Felicity King in Tales from Avonlea

I am indeed a woman of extremes, and here we jump to the opposite end of the spectrum. I pretty much loved any outfit worn in order to run through the fields of Prince Edward Island. The little ankle booties, the aprons of no purpose, the giant lace collars…De-lightful. In truth, I’d wear whatever would get me closest to Gus Pike, so maybe that’s why I chose Felicity as the Avonlea poster child instead of Sara Stanley. Who knows. (Actually, I do. And that’s exactly the reason. Mmm Gus Pike.)

Gidget (a la Sandra Dee, not Sally Field the almost flying nun) in Gidget

I was so all about this orange dress. I was also all about her saying screw you, Moon Doggie, I’m getting with the Big Kahuna, so you could say my childhood fantasies were somewhat misguided. But whatevs, the Kahuna was hot and I’ll sucker punch anybody that tries to tell me otherwise.

No brainer, right?

The Chipettes in Chipmunk Adventure

Come on. Those belly dancer outfits are fab. Despite Brittany’s cape and head scarf, Elanor’s sassy teal was definitely the fave. And poor Jeanette…Always a mess. Even just standing there…A complete mess. By the way, have harem pants come back in style? I mean, the laws against good taste and aesthetics would prevent me from wearing them, but oh I would so drool in guilty wantingness.

Jennifer Connelly in Labyrinth

In a quest to find David Bowie in an early form of jeggings, JC ignited my not-so-secret-anymore love of poofy sleeves. I mean. The popped collar, the billowiness, the vest, those eyebrows. Shut up. I love any ensemble that could also serve as a parachute in the event of an emergency.

Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman

Even in my youth I was like...This chick should be wearing a bra, but nevertheless, I loved this hooker-turned-class dress. Could this be where my affinity for belts came in? Perhaps. Just makes me wanna shout, "Hollywood! Hollywood! What's yo dream?"

Dottie and Kit in League of Their Own

Not only are those wide leg, high-waisted trousers Edna-and-Patsy-worthy AbFab, this scene hosted what would become a tagline of sorts representing the Bassett Sisters: "This is our daughter, Dottie. This is our other daughter, Dottie's sister." Nothin but love for ya, Dottie--I mean, Katie :)

Last but not least: Jerrica of Jem and the Holograms

Yes, as in "Truly, truly outrageous; Jem is her name; no one else is the same; Jem is her name" Jem. Before Miley Cyrus had Hanna Montana and that Toddlers and Tiaras bitch, Madison, had Tootie, Jerrica had Jem. And I had this Barbie. With that outfit. Pretty sure that belt was the best Mattel accessory ever mass produced. Ah, many a day I wished to grow up and wear that beret...Thankfully, for my own sense of well being, that never came to fruition. But I may just have my Halloween costume for next year.

So what'd I miss? I challenge you to give me a smack-my-forehead-in-realized-absent-mind-ism.

UPDATE!

Oh m'gosh, Sister is so so right. Maggie's dance dress from Lucas was totally envy-worthy.

Even on the hood of a car and paired with a sweatshirt it was fab, because that meant you got to make out with the then sane-and-quite-handsome Charlie Sheen. Brava, Sister. Brava, indeed.

You know me, right?

2011-07-13T09:44:00.004-05:00

So should you really be surprised it’s been two months since my last visit? Yeah, I didn’t think so. So let’s just cut what would surely be bullshit excuses and call a spade a spade. I’ve just been chillin reading other people’s blogs. Lots of people I don’t know. That would probably be creeped out by me knowing so much about them and stealing their sangria recipes.

But hey, I’ve been doing other stuff too… Let’s start off with a 101 update.

#8: My record player came in the mail last week along with my first two new LPs ever. (Mumford and Sons [Because they’re amazeballs.] and Vampire Weekend [Because it was on sale and because there’s a song on the album called “Oxford Comma” and more importantly it boasts the lyric: "Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma.” Winner.]) I also stole some of Dad-O’s old records while I was home this past weekend, including my mother’s own album recorded with the Dixie Messengers. And yes, I will find a way to share it.

#48: My sister blessed me with the gift of a legit and gorgeous Hobo wallet. I’m thinking of naming my first born after it. She went ahead and knocked off another on the list, #86, with my new kick ass travel cereal bowl. So awesome.

#49: Ma Jo and Dad-O took care of this one around birthday time, too. Never have I watched more Family Guy, Dr. Who or Rescue Me. And with Netflix jacking up their prices (60% increase? Come on, man.), I’m pumped that I can stick with strictly streaming, but not have to watch on my teeny computer screen.

1/3 of #52: Got to see Mumford and Sons in Atlanta with Sister, and holymotherofallthatisgoodandholy, they were fan-freakin-tastic. Pretty sure it was the best show I’ve ever seen. Sorry Rascal Flatts (she says with sarcasm), your bedazzled pants just couldn’t measure up.

Upcoming #92: July 28. PR is back, kids. And I’m determined to make it through the entire season with snarkitude and witty banter.

Let’s see…Outside the list, not too much is really new. I’ve taken on a new craft obsession with cross stitching (but not your average puppy-sniffing-flowers or pie-cooling-on-the-window-sill cross stitch)

Really? What am I gonna do with that?

Nope. Thanks to Wee Little Stitches on Etsy, I now have theses gracing my desk:

Love.

Oh! I also was lucky enough to get to see Glee Live. Holy Kaboom, Batman; it was fantastic. Yes, I was once again the nerd with the crap video camera recording nearly every song (As I did at the Beach Boys. Time Out: I haven’t talked about BB yet, have I? Ridiculous. John Stamos played with them. It was like I was living in a Full House episode. Mind bottling. You know? When things are so crazy it gets your thoughts trapped, like in a bottle? Time in.)

Now, my Beach Boys videos are all uploaded on YouTube (You’rewelcomeverymuch), but I haven’t gotten around to sharing all the Glee love yet. But how about a Warbler sneak peak?

MmmmDarrenCrissMmmmm.

Until next time...Stay classy, Blogspot.

One down, 100 to go.

2011-05-10T15:36:00.007-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the young and the young at heart: I did my first 5k. (Pause for overwhelming applause.)

Aw thanks so much. You're too kind. I don't deserve it; I really don't. (More wild applause.)

No seriously you're embarrassing me; (Cue Joey Gladstone) Cut. It. Out.

But for reals. I finished the C25K program on a Thursday and jumped feet first into a 5k on Saturday. The Spring Scramble was being hosted in an adorable neighborhood in Homewood, so I paid my $25 to support childhood obesity education and let the nerves ensue.

I now have a shirt with this logo. Because I sweated for it. Oh, and I paid the entry fee.

The fabulous Ashleigh Adamson Baker (a live-trivia extraordinaire and trophy wife to a Birmingham PD hunk), who's only on week 5 of the C25K program, mind you, was a mondo-trooper and ran with me.

One thing the C25K app did not tell me...Running outside is hard. And you should really resist the temptation of doing all your training on a treadmill. Because real roads don't move magically beneath your feet. And there are hills there. And no built-in fan in front of your face. So running in the elements and what not was le hard. But I survived.

Aaaand...

In case you don't have your Sherlock Holmes-esque magnifying glass handy...that's a 38:12.5 time, right there.

Finished under my goal time! I really hoped to fall somewhere in the 40-42 mark (Did I mention I'm more of a jogger than a runner? Yeah. I'm a jogger. Who likes to take walking breaks.)

So there we go. I've knocked one of the 101 things I want off the list. Now let's see what else we can take care of. (Sadly, I think I'd prefer to buy myself some Ray-Bans than train for a half-marathon...But we'll see what happens.)

The Big 101

2011-04-18T21:59:00.010-05:00

Know why I haven’t blogged in a while? Because after my last post I realized that the next (yes this one you’re reading right now), will be the big 101. Now—I know—that doesn’t sound impressive based on the fact that the biddy blog’s over a year old. 101 posts in a year and a half? Way to go Slacker McSlack. But coming from someone with a staunch fear of commitment, I say that’s still a winner.

So there’s been this sense of pressure. What would my 101st post be about? I don’t want to waste it on Glee screenshots (even though they’re awesome) or the cat’s new habit of waking me every morning 15 minutes before my alarm is set to go off (even though it’s heinous). It should be big. With the slightest twinge of epic and whimsy. I’ve seen 101 in 1001 posts (101 goals in 1001 days), but I’m not one for goals or resolutions. Again, the commitment thing. So how about this? On my 101st post, this is my list of 101 things I want. From short to long term. Substantial to paltry. And everything in between.

1. To run a 5k

2. To run a half-marathon

3. To say “run a marathon” is far too predictable. Instead I’d rather find the best bloody Mary in Birmingham

4. Might as well find the best brunch while I’m at it

5. A mini TARDIS for my desk

6. And a mini David Tennant to go with it

7. To fall in love without Eharmony

8. To buy a record player and start collecting vinyls

9. To make a domino-topped end table

10. For Justin Bieber and Rebecca Black to get married

11. For the Biebers to be exiled to Botswana with zero access to YouTube. And sterilized.

12. Take a Broadway pilgrimage to New York

13. To keep fresh flowers at the office

14. For tight baseball pants to make their way back to the major league. These loose and sloppy pajama bottoms aren’t cutting it. Embrace the inherently, God-gifted great asses you were given

15. Have a recipe I’m known for and am asked to make on a regular basis

16. Do something big for my parents as a thank you for, well, everything

17. Sunglasses that cost more than $15

18. To never be considered a person with “baggage.”

19. For my driver’s license weight to not be a lie

20. To see Sutton Foster on Broadway

21. To floss regularly. (What? It’s hard.)

22. To get married to the lurv of my life

23. Have a teeny wedding. One that requires very little time and money.

24. Have babies

25. To not name those babies after inanimate objects or timely celebrities

26. And to stay home with those normal, classically named babies for as long as I can

27. Tons of kitchen counter space

28. To write a book

29. To go to cooking school

30. A king sized bed

31. An apartment with a bedroom large enough to house a king sized bed

32. To not work in a cubicle

33. To attend a taping of the Actors Studio

34. For the Actors Studio to actually come on regularly. I still haven’t seen Meryl’s and it makes me le sad.

35. To own a house and decorate it myself. If “60s, minimalist kitsch” is a style, I think that’s what I want.

36. For Sister to do the house hunting and closing for me

37. For Sister and I to live in the same town

38. And for our future husbands and babies to be best friends

39. To hike

40. And kayak

41. To just suck it up and wear heels

42. To own all seasons of Little Britain

43. For Mad Men to surprise me and come back this summer

44. To buy organic and locally

45. To make enough money so that buying organic and locally isn’t a big deal

46. To never think of myself as “too good” for Big Lots, Dollar General and Ross

47. Wash clothes regularly so that I can never have a literal mound of dirty laundry in my closet

48. A Hobo clutch (If I hadn’t bought all the knock-offs and throw away wallets, I could’ve paid for one by now)

49. A Roku box

50. To never refer to my life as a “journey”

51. A Joan Holloway gold pen necklace

52. To see Coconut Records, Josh Ritter and Mumford & Sons in concert. A Mellow-Palooza

53. For mock turtlenecks to never come back in style

54. Ok, I want to run a marathon, too

55. To become an expert at something. Anything, really

56. For my DVR to magically record only the Law and Orders with Sam Waterson, Jerry Orbach, Angie Harmon, J.K. Simmons and the chick M.E.

57. An Office-themed Christmas tree

58. Real diamond stud earrings

59. To cook for my future family more often than not

60. About 80% of the Urban Outfitters apartment section

61. For Nicholas Sparks to give up writing and take up with the Hell’s Angels

62. For Styrofoam cups, Diet Dr. Pepper and teeny-tiny, Sonic-like ice to come standard in all restaurants

63. Go camping. If only to consume smores in their natural habitat

64. Send a secret to Postsecret

65. Memorize a poem to pull out of a hat at a moment’s notice. I’m torn by choosing something by Keats or a dirty limerick

66. For all of my friends to own a copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day

67. Learn to tie a tie. Because someday I will have a husband with ties I’d like to, well, tie

68. Make a killer dirty martini

69. Run at a speed not also shared by power walkers

70. To never wear Alfred Dunner

71. For Katherine Heigel and The Rock to stop making movies

72. To meet and become friends with Tom and Lorenzo. And for them to call me their dearest unborn fawn

73. Oh, the same thing with the Cake Wrecks/EPBOT girl. She doesn’t need to refer to me as her unborn fawn though

74. For my kids to not have cell phones until their teens

75. A golden retriever, and a big back yard for him to run in

76. To see every Best Picture winner from the past 50 years

77. Host a Pulp Fiction-themed costume party

78. Travel to Spain and spend a week devoted to the Prado

79. Establish a Jeff Bridges Ultimate Compilation section in my little DVD collection, including Big Lebowski, Crazy Heart, True Grit, Last Picture Show and, yes I can’t forget, The Mirror Has Two Faces

80. While I’m at it, go ahead and merge that with a Coen Brothers Collection, too

81. Figure out what Steampunk is and why they get to have such cool flotsam and jetsam

82. To become a person that digs podcasts

83. For Hangover 2 not to be an epic failure, but a hilarious reimagination of the original

84. To be somebody's darling

85. For the Academy to nix the whole “10 Best Picture” nominee thing

86. One of those on-the-go cereal bowls

87. For Kate Winslett to just stop. If I see her nipples one more time, I’m giving up on cinema.

88. A proposal story that doesn’t make me want to gag

89. To still have the same kick-ass group of friends 20 years from now

90. For American Apparel to stop assaulting my eyes every time I visit TFLN

91. For fedoras to come back in style

92. To continue my Project Runway snarkery with gusto and reverence

93. Find a charity I really care about and become an involved patron

94. Take an epic roadtrip across the US

95. Develop an arsenal of karaoke songs in secret for those just in case situations

96. A really good pair of running shoes

97. To become a master of small talk

98. To age as closely to Helen Mirren as possible

99. To visit chain restaurants as infrequently as possible

100. For finger sandwiches, mixed nuts and “Butterfly Kisses” to come nowhere near my wedding

101. To be happy. Whether or not any of these things actually happen.

(But come on; it'd be pretty awesome if they did, right?)

A Week of Winning

2011-03-20T21:07:00.005-05:00

I know, I know; Long time no blog. Let's skip the formalities of me explaining myself and just jump right in as to why the week of March 14 will from here until forever be known as a Mondo Winner.

Let's start with the newly single and ready to mingle Bradley Cooper on the Actors Studio. Hummena hummena. Not only was he, you know, cray cray gorgeous, he was a giant ball of emotion. An exposed nerve. A smushy face crybaby. And it was A-mazing. I officially lurv, loave, luff him, and I shall see his new movie despite the fact that it will most likely be completely ridiculous. He deserves my money. Nom nom nom.

Ok next. I've started the Couch to 5k program. During our last group gathering in Tuscaloosa, my girl, Adrienne, mentioned a marathon/half marathon coming up in December in Memphis, and folks were gung-ho about it. Um. That's a long way. And I don't run. And a half marathon as a first race is the equivalent as a virgin's first time being a gang bang. So yeah, I'm starting small. And you can tell I'm committed because I actually paid money for the app.

And this week I finished Week 3. You see that little green light? That means I finished. Winner. Although, the thought of running 5 minutes (Seriously. I'm a walker, y'all), this week kinda scares the crap out of me. Whatevs. It can and shall be done.

Sister Wives is back. Hell to the yes.

And then there's this.

Oh. My. Lord. It finally happened. Amazing, magical Kurt and Blaine smoochfest. Which I have admittedly watched like 73 times. I swear, every time that little hand of Kurt's raises and those fingers fan I swoon. For real, swoons. Congratulations, Klaine. You've entered the arsenal of kisses including "in the rain Garden State," "on the mountain Man from Snowy River," and "in a dream and on the beach Sea Inside" as inexplicably perfect, stomach-tingling and yummy.

On the non-winning side, I'm trying to watch Inception. Which is demanding and tiring. All I want is for Leo to speak in a Southie accent, Joseph Gordon-Levitt to break into a song and dance number and for Ellen Page to be preggers and say "pork swords." None of these things are happening. I don't approve.

But to make up for it, the universe is providing E!'s "documentary" on how Charlie Sheen became bat shit crazy. Winning!

Long Lii-ii-iive the King

2011-02-12T18:23:00.004-06:00

After a month of radio silence, I'm back.

And my return is directly related to King George VI. It's true. No Bertie stammer, no future interest of the Weinstein Company, no Colin Firth, no Oscar nod, no Saturday matinee trip to the movies. My attempt to see all 10 (Only half way through...And I'd so rather watch True Grit again than sit through Inception. Boo.) nominations and Carmike gift cards brought me to the over-crowded Summit theater this afternoon (1).

(Zack Morris Time out: Law and Order (2) should really invest in a larger wardrobe budget. Just saw the Six Feet Under chick who went retarded for her first 15 minutes of fame in the same court-jester-inspired blouse of a bereaving mother who just lost her epileptic son to asphyxiation. And might I say...Woof. Time in.)

I should have known I was in for a real cinematic adventure treat when the first thing I see upon entering the building is a girl--maybe 20--decked out in a sparkly red cocktail dress, wrap and strappy silver heels, accompanied by her suitor. In a sweatshirt. I don't know which is sadder. The fact that they're obviously celebrating Valentine's Day two days early at Gnomeo and Juliet or that the boyfriend couldn't even bother to warn her that she'd be highly overdressed and not even getting popcorn.

On to the real movie. I had a full row to myself: purse, jacket and snuck in snacks strewn about. Then I got visitors. A couple of older women who sat much closer than necessary. Ok fine. Whatevs. They don't seem to be very talkative and I don't see a Jitterbug phone in sight. We're good. Then the show starts...We've got Stage 5 Chatters. Not so much or so loud that I'm not totally enthralled by baby love Colin, but just enough to catch me off guard and nearly spit out my sour gummy bears with a case of the giggles.

When Colin/Bertie declares to Geoffrey Rush, "I have a voice!," I hear this declarative, "Yes!" from my left. When the near-coronation George VI essentially tells the Archbishop (played by Brother Cadfael aka the clergy's version of Murder She Wrote) to fuck off, I hear this weepy but powerful "Damn straight!" When little Liz and Margie come on screen brushing their stuffed ponies, I hear this faint, breathy, "Oh oh oh, Queen Elizabeth..." Now I'm feeling kind of bad for Margaret. Don't ignore her. She's still royalty and all. I wanna tell her that even though her big sister is gonna turn into Helen Mirren and get her own movie, that at least she'll be the object of everyone's sexual fantasy on board Pirate Radio (except Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Like he said, he hadn't had the pleasure).

And the final kick in the pants...During the king's speech (Not like I'm giving anything away. If there were no speech it'd be called the King's Stutter With No Real Motive), there are machine gun tears. A litany of waterworks and snot-sucking sighs. I'm not saying the movie wasn't good. It was. And Colin Firth was lovely. I want to ball him up and carry him in my pocket. He'd say "fuck, fuck, bollocks...tit" whenever I gave him a squeeze. BUT. You'd no more bawl at this scene than you would laugh when you finally found out what "Sophie's Choice" was. Just not necessary.

Needless to say, I think I know who she'll be rooting for Oscar night.

(1) I think we've talked about my love for solo weekend matinees. It works well for my impulsive nature (reinforced by my new haircut, the majority of my furniture and those three comforters in my closet that I really thought would be "the one"). It also works well for when my impulsions fade and decide I want to nap instead. I was supposed to go see this particular gem two weeks ago, but I was le tired and didn't want to shower. And because I was flying solo I didn't have to text anyone an excuse for canceling. Makes me more honest.

(2) I've set a season pass for every Law and Order that comes on TNT. Which is dangerous since it comes on about five times a day. Of course, I delete any that don't have Lenny Briscoe or Hang em High McCoy. And if J.K. Simmons makes a delightful psychiatrist cameo, well that's the perfect L&O trifecta, my friend. Mmm Dr. Skoda.

No eHarmony for Womack: The Ladies

2011-01-10T18:56:00.002-06:00

Ok, let’s recap the ladies, shall we? The caliber of women can be defined by the fact that there’s not one, but two Chantels. No my apologies, one Chantel and one Shawntel. Good Lord woof.

Ok, let’s start with the ultimate dead weight. The rejects that didn’t even get the courtesy of an exit interview. First we said adios to the normal named, regular occupation holders: Cristy: the attorney, Lacey: the insurance adjuster and Renee: the nanny. We also went ahead and got rid of Sarah, the musical theater performer (She was so close to me loving her! But then she went all, “Um. One thing you should know about me is that I can’t snap my fingers.” Well. Danke, freshman-orientation-one-weird-thing-about-me girl. You have a nice life singing about being alone.) and J, the operations manager. Yeah, just the letter. And it was her birthday. This year she got both rejection and embarrassment. Her cup runneth over.

The chicks that got Brad’s might-as-well-have-worked-at-Sizzler “Thanks for coming out” speech include an esthetician, sales director, paralegal, high school teacher and sales consultant. Yup, get those normal bitches out of the way. Two notes for a couple of the ladies: Paralegal Britnee how bout you not make your first impression as a demanding Needy Mcneederson with bad hair making Brad break protocol and open your door. They have P.A.s for that. Esthetician Rebecca…It’s true what they say about not buying cows when you can get milk and shit for free. Don’t be that girl that makes out with strangers. Especially if you’re not gonna be good enough at it to make him want to keep you around just for kicks…Just sayin.

As far as the ladies who are sticking around for one more week:

Ashley, the southern girl turned NYC nanny won the first impression rose. Is she Tenley’s baby sister, Ninely? If she does an interpretive dance any time within the first four episodes…I’m taking that as more conclusive evidence than a blood test.

And a quick recap of the rest of the cast:

Michelle the hairstylist (Mom #1)

Kimberley, marketing coordinator and mouthbreather
Madison the model and hissing vampire ratings booster
Emily the Children’s Hospital event planner, Mom #2 and race car driver widow
Raichel the manscaper. Apparently that’s a legit career these days. The spelling of the name though…Farthest thing from legit. Ever.
Keltie the bendie Rockette and most awkward runner since Phoebe Buffay.
Ashley the extremely lucky dentist. I say this because the woman was wearing a sparkle tube dress and I’ve already pegged her as this season’s Mrs. Ray Ramano. If she even gets one solo confessional I’ll be pretty surprised.
Lisa M. the marketing coordinator who owns ruby slippers for grown ups. I have a feeling they were left over from a particularly whorish Halloween costume from years past.
Lindsey the first grade teacher
Alli the apparel merchant named for a non-FDA approved weight-loss program that induces the shits. She should be proud.
Sarah P. the drunk real estate broker that forced a proposal out of the Womack moments after introductions. I’m just gonna leave it at the fact that the champagne was free and the wait was long. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time. Yeah.
Marissa the sports publicist. Her intro: “I’m the closest thing you’ll ever get to screwing Erin Andrews so you better take advantage. I’m gonna walk away now.”
Britt the food writer who brought Womack trail mix. Whatevs.
Stacey the bartender aka “I don’t know who you are because I’m too cool to actually watch the fucking Bachelor”
Shawntel the funeral director. He’ll say adieu at the first whiff of formaldehyde.
Jackie an artist. That likes to make up songs and sing. Much like a five year old. Bet she uses finger paints too…
Melissa the waitress who took a running leap into the Womack. Guess those, um assets? Buoys? Ok, whatever, her giant bouncing boobs, paid off.
Chantel an executive assistant who slaps strangers for dumping women she’s never met. I think he would’ve had full rights to smack her back. Maybe next episode?

Ok, I'm off to watch some Actors Studio. Because I just can't bring myself to watch Barners and Ducks this evening. If I succumb to the Bachelor: Round Two, I'll be sure to express my opinions of snark and disdain. Until then, happy TV watching, whatever it may be.

Brad Womack Hasn't Heard of eHarmony.

2011-01-09T16:44:00.003-06:00

Ok, so as I wait with bated breath to see if I actually get a snow day tomorrow, I'm attempting to distract myself by finally watching the Bachelor. I'm 20 minutes in and I think I've learned all I need to know about Brad.

1. He's not going to be wearing a shirt much.
2. He thinks "perverbial" is a word.
3. Even with two years of therapy and inner reflection, Brad thinks the only way to find a wife is through ABC prime time.

I've also already decided that the race car driver's widow with the miracle child might as well pack her bags with leis and tankinis because she's going to the final-three-Fantasy-Island-vacation. And she's gonna get the first vacation date because she's no one's sloppy second and/or third.

My instincts are saying vampire chick's not going to go well with his Austin twang and pearl snap shirts, but good Lord almighty I hope the producers keep her crazy ass around. At least for a few episodes. Vampires are big right now.

Ok, back to the show. Chris Harrison has a fresh scotch to watch the parade of slaps, spittings and desperate discrete humpings that is the introduction of all the ladies. Check back later, I'm sure I'll have more insights to share.

Death by Satellite Radio

2011-01-04T15:48:00.006-06:00

Kids of blogosphere, I'm in a funk. I don't know if it's a holiday hangover or if I'm actually getting sick, but I feel le craptastic. Am seriously hoping that my body is just repelling having to go to work after 12 glorious days of deliriously awesome nothingness. But you know what's not helping? The sad-FM-easy-listening-for-the-over-40 piped in music causing my ears to hemorrhage in my office. It's sad enough that after two weeks of family love and debauchery with my crew that I have to come back to work and stare at my grey cube walls, but the fact that over the course of the day I have heard:

Memories by Barbra Streisand

Close to You, the Carpenters

It's all Coming Back to Me, Celine Dion

You're Still the One, Shania Twain

Hopelessly Devoted, Olivia Newton John

Tell Me Why, Backstreet Boys

I'll Never Love This Way Again, Dionne Warwick

...Well it's just not right.

We cube-dwellers have decided that this station was once the one playing around the clock Christmas music, and now that Christmas is over, it's back to regularly scheduled programming. Now I know what my Jewish boss was feeling during a month of "White Christmas," "Here Comes Santa Claus" and "Dogs Bark Jingle Bells." Generally pissed off and desperate for a song about dreidels.

I'm doing my best to ignore it, but seriously: there's no escaping those inevitable saxophone riffs that tend to pop up every quarter hour. Woof.

On the upside, I have a new favorite desk accessory.

Yes, it's a mustache mug. And I find it quite awesome. It makes me happy. It's awesomeness has the power to drown out the Kenny G.

Oh, oh, oh. And check this out.

Do you see that?

No, I'm not talking about the Xpress 101. We've already talked about it's magical powers. It's a plant. That I grew. That's not dead.

I have a notorious black thumb. In my first apartment, I thought it'd be a hoot to have lots of potted plants on our screened in porch (you remember this, Sus?). And for about a week they looked pretty adorable. Then I forgot about them. And they went through the harsh Alabama summer with no water. And then they went though the harsh Alabama winter (huh yuck) with no water. Or love. Or anything. Come move out time, I had lots of pots and withered-to-nothing-stumps-of-plants to throw away. Woops. The fact that I actually have an animal that is very much alive still astounds me. I killed a fern. A fern. That's like killing a cactus. Anyway, this tangent has gotten out of hand. In short: Plants fear me. Am lucky with animals.

I never expected the current pre-death plant to actually survive. It's one of those plants in a box with the bulbs and compressed soil discs. Mom got one for me and one for her. I knew hers would live. I think she has some plants that are still around from the Carter administration. Mine though...Yikes. But lo and behold it's still kickin. It will however, never go outside. Out of sight is literally out of mind for me. It'd be the equivalent of sending that poor plant on a Trail of Tears-esque death march.

In other, random news, I'm picking up my routine after a holiday abstention and going back to the sad, little apartment gym tonight. Maybe it'll make me feel better. At the very least, I'll feel better watching Biggest Loser tonight knowing that I'm not a complete lazy ass. I'm already one step closer to not feeling pangs of guilt while watching the BL by bringing in a leftover canister of buckeye balls (a result of excessive holiday baking) into work. Now they won't stare at me every time I go into the kitchen and ask to come join me by the couch.

And speaking of TV...I've got the first episode of the Bachelor on the DVR. But I just don't know if I have the strength or the stomach to watch and/or commentate this season. We'll just have to see about that one. Double woof.

A Crummy Commercial? Son of a Bitch.

2010-12-24T22:03:00.005-06:00

The presents are wrapped; tomorrow's brunch casseroles are prepped; the Christmas Eve spaghetti dinner has been consumed; the dining room table is covered in desserts, and A Christmas Story is rounding out its fourth hour of the glorious 24-hour rotation.

(Extended Time out. We are that family. The marathon-watching-since-the-TNT-days-had-trouble-adjusting-to-the-TBS-switch-but-got-over-it-soon-enough family. I don't care if we have the DVD. Or if we've already watched it twice this lovely holiday season. All of our TVs will be tuned into Ralphie and Ol' Blue until the Old Man screams "Sons of Bitches! Bumpuses!" for the twelfth time. We may currently be taking a break for a quick Family Man screening, but that doesn't weaken the fact that, in a pinch, each of us Bassetts could step in to play narrator in any community theater production with practically zero prep time. Our yearly marathon is a participatory event. We talk along. We don't just know the lines. No, no. We don't just quote. We've got the timing. The cadence. The inflection. We're hardcore. And that's all there is to it. Time in.)

Like the song says, folks: It's the most wonderful time of the year.

And to celebrate the most wonderful time of the year... I decorate. But not until after Thanksgiving. Because that's just the way it's done. Thanksgiving deserves the cornucopias and various gourd centerpieces without holly and reindeer getting in the way. But after the leftover turkey sandwiches are consumed...it's no holds barred.

My name is Mellie and I steal ideas from Sips n Stokes to make my own Christmas decor. And I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Perhaps the best Big Lots deal in the history of all Big Lots deals. $20 for a 6 foot pre-lit tree? Merry Christmas to me.

The tablescape. No, I never actually ate off of the snowman plates, but they provided a lovely ambiance.

One soup can. Thee boxes of candy canes. Five glue sticks. One giant Martha Stewart moment. It's a good thing.

And so as this holiday season comes to a close, I want to wish you all out in Blogosphere Land a very Merry Christmas! Now go turn off your computer and turn on your TV. Ralphie's about to beat up Scut Farkus and it's gonna be epic.

Oh, Jack says Merry Merry, too.

I was soo right...

2010-12-15T08:53:00.006-06:00

Ah yes, the Biddy returns to your Google Reader. After much pestering and constant reminders that I've yet to blog anything in over a month from the lovely Sister...I'm back to keep her happy and passive. Because Christmas is coming. And she's been present teasing for months now, and I'm pretty sure if I didn't post in the next few days she'd withhold all gift-giving, and instead present me with a lump of coal and a "you know what you did" scowl come Christmas morning.

To explain my absence: I do my best blogging at work. Now, let's not say that I'm neglecting my job to entertain thousands if not four faithful readers; let's just say that I'm so productive I occasionally have pockets of time that I can devote to social-media-fueled snarkery. The past month has had very few of those pockets. Crazy busy. That's all the excuse you're gonna get from me.

And this morning I return with a air of self-righteous told-you-so-ness fueled by the Biggest Loser finale. I made my predictions and, yep, I win.

Meet Brendan. Now stick him in flannel and a backwards baseball cap. Why, is that Gilmore Girls' Luke Danes? Why, yes, I do believe it is. Winner.

And this is Jessica. Ok, no she's not knocked up like I predicted. Yet. But hot, right? Too pretty for her own good? I do believe so. Winner.

And finally, this little mother-loving dear heart is Adam. Wowza and hubba hubba. I cannot be alone in this opinion. I want to fry egg substitute and turkey bacon off those rock-hard-sizzling abs. Mmmm. Win-ner.

And folks, the time for another changing of the guard here at the ol' blogstead has arrived. As of last Friday I've been working for seven months. Seven. Feels a lot longer. Point being, I'm no longer "newly employed." From henceforth-on-out-forever-and-ever-amen-until-I-change-my-mind, I shall be: Just a Biddy.

In the upcoming weeks I promise the following blog posts:

A Tour Through Mellie's Winter Wonderland

Mad Men: From Ignorance to Obsession. The Untold Love Story of Biddy Mellie and John Hamm.

How to Survive the No Glee til February Slump

Plateful of Thankful

2010-11-11T21:03:00.004-06:00

Necessity is indeed the mother of invention. I have no real food in the house because I refuse to go grocery shopping when I'm going to be away all weekend. I'm not going to let milk and bread get three days closer to sour and stale while I'm gone. We don't waste when we're on a budget. I wasn't feeling anything in my go-to frozen dinner arsenal. And the weather turned on me today by getting in the high 70s, so I'm boycotting my cans of soup until my cool air returns.

But that's all OK. Because that led me to these bad boys.

It all started with the idea of pancakes. I have Bisquick, the wunderkind of all flour based products, and it must be put to use. But. My sugar-free syrup blows; I don't have a griddle, and pancakes out of a wok just aren't as good. Then I remembered I had canned pumpkin left over from my delicious gnocchi dinner from a while ago and dum da da dummmm. Pumpkin pancakes. And I decided to make it an even lazier process by making them in my Xpress 101. So they turned out more like pumpkin cakes...delicious pumpkin cakes. And I made them even delicious-er by the addition of Nutella. Num.

So, my friends, in one fell swoop we've hit 8 wonderful things I give much danke.

*Pumpkin-cinnamon-nutmeg flavored anything
*Bisquick
*Xpress 101
*Nutella
*Powdered Sugar

*Faux baked goods
*No-dishes-to-do paper plates
*Breakfast for dinner

Until next time, don't forget your thank you's, danke's, gracias's and your merci's. It's a good world, kiddos. A good pumpkin-flavored, cinnamon-scented world.

Gracias to Glee

2010-11-10T19:57:00.005-06:00

What am I thankful for today, you ask?

It's a little something called Darren Criss singing the crap out of Teenage Dream.

No, I haven't pretty much watched this on loop since around 8:23 last night. Nope, not at all.

Oh, and I'm possibly even more thankful for this delightfully dreamily adorable interchange. Ah Kurt, how my inner teenage gay boy loves thee. (You too, Darren Criss.)

Swoon.

A Weekend Chock Full of Danke

2010-11-09T20:58:00.003-06:00

Did you think I'd forgotten about prepping for our favorite glutenous holiday of the year by remembering all the things besides the upcoming gluttony that I'm thankful for? Ah, I think not. I've just been too busy being really thankful, to write about being thankful. Anywhoo, let's get to it, shall we?

*Two Sister Weekends (and an upcoming third, but that'll be another post) in a row. This one in particular because I didn't even have to drive to get to her.

*The best chicken tikka masala in the world alongside caramel sundaes with homemade brownies (ok, so I'm still thankful for gluttony leading up to the gluttony. Sue me.)

*The arrival of my new slouchy boots, and the return of tights to my wardrobe.

*I am not thankful for my heat not working. But I am thankful for my crazy low power bill and the right to snuggle in flannel and sleep sweaters.

*Dawson's Creek, Season 2

*A sister that loves musicals as much as I do. Even four hour productions of Fiddler on the Roof.

*Speaking of Fiddler...I give danke for the skat version of If I Were a Rich Man as performed by me and Sister. If I were a rich man, scoo ba dee bop bop scoo dee da waa waa...

*I am also not thankful for the new outlet mall in Leeds which brought out the worst in the Sisters. And made us angry Sisters. But I am thankful an adorable pup named Roxie and Surin sushi in panang curry sauce, as well as our immense Sister lub, lahv and lurv to help us get over it. *hugs*

Until next time, danke, universe!

Happy Birthday!

2010-11-03T14:09:00.006-05:00

My little blog is one year old today. It's kind of hard to believe that I've been peddling snark for a whole year now...And it's even stranger to think how much (and how little) my life has changed over the past year.

A year ago I was unemployed, living at home in Troy and making pumpkin pancakes. I had a Farmville. I was tearing through the Sookie Stackhouse books and watching True Blood bootleg online because my family doesn't believe in paying extra for movie channels. And because our house lacked DVR as well, I watched live TV. And used a VCR. I stayed up til 3 and slept til noon. I wore a lot of sweat pants. I visited Sister as often as possible.

Fast forward a year and I've made the move to Birmingham. I have a real job. In a field that I went to school for. I have health insurance. I've been to the doctor when I've had nothing wrong with me. I have a dentist. And a scheduled 6 month cleaning. I have an apartment chock full of furniture that's never belonged to anyone else. I still wear a lot of sweat pants and schlep to Atlanta to see Sister as often as possible. However, I do take my Sookie in audio book form now and am in bed well in the P.M. hours of the night. I don't know why the hell I'm not making pumpkin pancakes right now.

Geez, the amount of adulthood you can achieve in a year. Cray cray. Although, apparently I'm not that adult yet because I say stuff like "cray cray."

On a separate note, my life as it is has become The Office. I was roped into the Party Planning Committee (not to be confused with the Committee to Plan Parties) for the annual ECA Halloween shindig. I, Joan Holloway, along with Helga the Beer Maid, Wilma Flintstone and ol' standby witch decked out the conference room in streamers, spider webs and skeletons. I played the part of All Hallows Eve DJ. And decorated cupcakes. I felt like Pam, Darryl and Angela all rolled into one.

My baked good contribution actually turned out pretty adorable. Not as adorable as the ones in Woman's Day that I stole them from...but kind of precious none the less.

Now that I've primed your palates with buttercream...Here comes the question of the afternoon: Does my little blog deserve a cake for surviving its first year? Hrm? I vote yes. This is the only election that really matters people. Do your civic duty. Tell me yes, I should celebrate this momentous occasion with cake. It's all in your hands, folks.

A Time to Give Danke

2010-11-02T15:45:00.003-05:00

Well kids, can we believe it's November 2nd? Halloween has passed, and hopefully everyone took advantage and dressed to show off their creativity, witticism or boobs. It's what the holiday is all about. For those who didn't take advantage and made poor choices, National Untagging Day has also flown right by. And despite what the department stores and Wal-Marts are telling you, Christmas isn't the next major holiday. Lest us forget Thanksgiving: the one day of the year dedicated solely to love and gluttony. (Except for a single girl's Valentine's Day. Don't tell me you've never bought a giant box of chocolates "for your mom.")

So over here at Biddy Corner, I want to take some time whenever the mood strikes to say a big danke to some of the things I'm most grateful for in my life/biddyhood.

Today I am grateful for (the first time in a long time) a full week of no highs over 70 degrees. Fall has arrived, and if she knows what's good for her, she'll stick around for a while. I'm not rearranging the closet yet, because let's face it: If I do it now, I'm destined to be jinxed and spend Christmas in shorts.

You know what this is? If you guessed glorious, you are correct.

I...Buh..Wha? No.

2010-10-29T14:04:00.005-05:00

I got nothin.

Seriously. Nothing.

There was a "reunion." Not only did they not tar and feather Ivy for being a complete C U Next Tuesday, we didn't even get a Lord Gunn vocabulary montage. Therefore, I paid no attention. In a nutshell: The gays love Peaches. No one likes Gretchen. April's going through a Bitter Betty Princess Leia phase.

Valerie has had marriage proposals and celebrates by dressing like a referee.

Runway day has zero drama.

Andy wears his Jackie O pants.

Gretchen has an affinity for granny panties and decided to pair them with April's resortwear.

Country as corn pone Jessica Yee-Haw Simpson chewed her cud while disguised as a bedazzled flying squirrel. She liked them there dresses on that there runway.

Andy sent down a doldrums of a collection in shades of grey and pea green taffeta.

Funny like a monkey Mondo showed a fun and unique array of Mondoisms that was an obvious (ahrm) winner.

Gretchen made some stuff that I didn't totally hate in shades of dirt and thunder (apparently).

In possibly the longest judges session ever, after immediately knocking Andy from the running for the title (because, um. It blew.), Michael Kors and Nina Garcia changed the name of the show to Project Ready to Wear and decided Gretchenstein should be the winner. At least she has some cash now, and won't have to peddle her wares on the street out of a shopping cart.

Funny Like A Monkey Mondo will always be the winner to me. Just wanna stick him in my pocket and carry him around for a while. Precious.

That's it. I can't talk about it anymore. Project Runway and I are on a break. We'll see where we stand come next season.

Actually, one last thing:

There's Power in the Velvet

2010-10-23T19:06:00.018-05:00

I should have known that Project Runway was going to be an epic fail this week because it broke my DirecTV. Ok, ok, the crummy satellite reception and overall darkened soul of the company in general probably did it, leaving me cable and DRV-less until Monday. (Thank God for the complete second and third season of Mad Men…), but I like to think the trio of bad decision makers and puppy kickers had something to do with it too.

So because of my general annoyance and disappointment, I’m keeping it brief. Let’s get to it.

Tim’s at home visit begins with him not knock, knock, knocking on Andy’s door, which I found surprising. Come to find there was no door to knock, knock, knock on.

We find that Lord of I Prefer Land Mammals has a fear of catfish and Andy has nothing sewn yet. Yikes. Hope those textiles all the way from Laos are worth it.

Michael has tons and tons o outfits. TG thinks he needs to focus, focus, focus and stop designing. Just Michael’s boyfriend fills us in on how craptastic JM’s parents are. Poor lil fella.

Mondo’s house is very Mondo. Colorful and delightfully wackadoo. His collection is Mexican circus meets Dia de los Muertos. He’s so gonna win and everybody knows it, including the proud Papa Gunn.

And then there’s Gretchen. Yes, with a “G,” not a “W.” I actually don’t hate her as much this week. I mean…her life is kind of crumbly. No more relationship, money or house. Bless it. And dear dear Gunny Bear opens up about his disastrous failed relationship that resulted in his moving to New York and becoming the Baron Von Awesome that he is today. I swear that man is chocolate dipped and filled with caramel. Love.

The designers reunite in New York at the “brought to you by Hilton” suite, and the velvet bag makes its valiant return. Ah, but it’s not holding a gremlin of a surprise this week. All the contestants get a trip for two to a Hilton resort. There is much rejoicing and Gretchen wonders how much she can get for it on eBay.

The challenge: Present three looks to the judges, one of which you have to make right now. Go.

Runway day arrives, Gretchen, once again, dresses head to toe in pumpkin flavored crushed velvet. I believe this textile to be the secret of her powers. And the Trail of Tears commences:

Mondo

The clear and obvious winner of the season. I could do without the Pebbles Flintstone-Snookie bumps, but overall...He's Mondolicious. And destined for funny-like-a-monkey greatness.

Gretchen

Michael Jackson takes a Caribbean vacation.

It's working girl Melanie Griffith before she raids Sigourney Weaver's closet. Tell me it's not.

Meh. Crunchy granola jumper. I'd probably wear it with a cardigan.

Andy

Those nimble and swift Laotian fingers may pleat like a mad man, but I don't like it. Color's atrocious. The skirt's a throw away. Whatevs.

Ew.

It's a fancy, silver, day romper. That's a combo that makes no sense and annoys me.

Just Michael

Love this look. Haven't seen JM do pants since his resort wear jumpsuit, and these are a vast improvement. Adore the top.

Mondo and Gretch were the first to receive their tickets to fashion week, and for some reason this little moment made me choke up a little.

Mondo: Good.

Little, petite and packed full of punch. Just like our dear one.

In the end, it was Andy's name called, not Just Michael's. And the heart breaking began. He went from Blair Witch Project...

To full on Terms of Endearment, machine gun tears.

He really doesn't want to have sex with a woman again.

Pretty sure these tears were brought on by the close vicinity of that outfit.

Finally Pappy Tim came in to rock and swaddle little Just Michael to a slow, soft whimper.

He bogarts the tissues and makes his exit.

Just Michael's a precious little thing that should be going to fashion week. I saw all of the collections when they were released months ago, and his was always one of my top faves. He'll find a way to tell his family and if his mom tries to get him to give up fashion and marry another girl, Tim Gunn will come down and kick some ass.

Next week: Mondo wins.

Recapping in Protest

2010-10-16T16:52:00.014-05:00

Know the best part of this episode?

Just Michael in Taliban Chic. Cousin It in chiffon.

And the valiant return of Swatch. That's it. The End.

The hour of bullshit begins with Gretchen meeting the mayor of New York in white leggings and puss in boots boots. How does that feel, Gretchen? Does it feel like trash of state fair proportions? Because it should. Even Mondo left the jorts at home. Go sit in that corner and feel ashamed of yourself.

Oh, and Lord of Perfectly Pleated Ascots and Pocket Squares issued the challenge of creating, well. Anything. They have lots of money so impress the judges with it. Oh, and they have the entire city of New York to draw inspiration from. Am wondering where the "this look will jump start your fashion week collection" speech is. That's standard for this challenge, yes? Bugha.

The designers set off to get "inspired." Whatevs. April and Mondo are both channelling the Brooklyn Bridge. Just Michael heads to the Statue of Liberty. I mean...That's kind of your outfit right there. You can't exactly design a structured business suit inspired by the Statue of Lib, can you? I'm guessing draping will be involved... Andy heads to Central Park. He's inspired by the natural paths in the park. Um, Andy. The park wasn't carved out by the American Indian. Engineers were involved in its design. There's not too much organic about that, sir. Oh, and Gretchen heads to the Lower East Side. She doesn't want to be "literal," so that means she's going to design whatever the hell she wants and justify it later.

These kids suck at inspiration. Want to see inspiration? Think Jay McCarroll. Season 1. Episode 3. Chrysler Building, anyone?

Or Andre's gutter water dress. Season 2. Episode 8.

So yeah, they sewed. Timmy critiqued. Mondo napped. Andy's designing a cocktail dress for a Chinese madam that serves dim sum and happy endings. Wretchen made Papa Gunn hug her. This makes me cringe. Scanning the workroom, I can tell this runway is gonna be one for the books. The really big book of ugly shit.

Now, let me remind you all that this is the challenge to get a chance to design a collection for Fashion Week. You know, to win the effing show. Just for some perspective, let me remind you of several other designs that came out the challenge before the finals:

Kenley

Leanne

Jillian

Christian Siriano

Chris March

Yeah. That's talent. That's how one is to design to deserve a collection of your very own. And ah, this is what the rag tag group of misfits came up with and were praised and rewarded for:

I present to you, the Parade of Bullshit. Up first, the Fashion Week Bound:

Andy

Oh good Lord. The judges claimed this to be the "perfect black dress." Um, for a hooker. I think it's tailor made for a dominatrix on casual Friday and horrid. Oh, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Central Park. Apparently the "challenge" has nothing to do with the judging. I want to see a picture of Central Park that somehow relates to this outfit. Then maybe I can get behind Miss Saigon going to Fashion Week.

Just Michael

It's pretty. And despite being a centimeter away from our Lady Liberty showing ass crack, it falls quite beautifully. But the judges keep saying how wonderfully draped it is. Ummm. It's a sheath. It's pleated. And has a slit. There's no draping. It hangs. You wanna see draping, call yummy Rami back to the runway. Still though, this was the best this week.

Mondo

Once again it's wackadoo, but cute. I like it and I'm not sure why. Judges know he doesn't use color as a crutch, but he might be using houndstooth and herringbone. Just sayin. He's adorable though. Oh! And when he was the only one who picked Just Michael to come to Fashion Week with him and lil JM's face lit up like a Christmas tree...J'adore.

Wretchen

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. An ill-fitting skirt, a sloppy blouse and a substandard jacket. She was designing for "real girls." Well, hun. "Real girls" don't belong on a runway do they? They belong in Sears catalogs; so take your wares there and sell them alongside the tires and washing machines, ok? I don't need you in my life. Why must the judges hang on to this girl? Yes she won the first two challenges, and was high in the third, but since then...She's been middle of the road 4 times, in the top twice and in the bottom twice. One of which was last week. That's what we call, "not stellar." On the other hand we have:

The Dismissed

April

Now we all know that I've been on the "April Should Use Actual Color" Bandwagon for a long long time, but. BUT, this was one of the very few outfits on the runway that actually had some presence. It actually made a little noise. And it's definitely not hanging on the racks of a Burke's Outlet mall like someone else's outfit...*coughGRETCHENcough* And her track record? Oh, let's see: She's been in the bottom twice, safe six times, won once and was in the top three times, two of which were the past two episodes. Ya know...I say that's way better than the bitter monger Gretchen. Oh, not to mention the fact that, 1. Andy designed in black about 90% of the time and that was never effin mentioned by the judges, and 2. April has never once been reprimanded for repeating designs or not using color. Just saying. Once again. Bullshit.

But for some reason the judges decided to keep Femullet. Because they know she just ran out of steam and she has a personal style that will serve well as an inspiration in the final collections.

Yeah, judges. Sure. I know I trust a woman in lilac crushed velvet Hammer pants's personal style. Yeah. Look at what you've done. Look at what you've subjected the world to. Hang your heads in shame you tacky little wenches.

Despite being the bitter biddy that I am, I do have a few things to look forward to. Come next week, I'll get to hear the Baron Von Lichtenfashion say "design diarrhea" and hold up Gretchen's granny panties. I guess there is such a thing as redemption.

My Life in a Nutshell.

2010-10-13T15:50:00.011-05:00

Ok, so...not too much is going on; work is work. After work is after work. Weekends have been on-the-go and full of driving (my all time favorite thing). There’ve been lovely nuggets of fun in between (bachelorette weekend, South Alabama State Fair, all things Sister related), but I’m horrible at documenting my life, so my recaps tend to lack any sort of visual backup. Which leaves me with only blogging on Project Runway. Which is, um, in a word: Awesome. But still. I’m more than judgmental snark, right? *crickets* Right? Ok, maybe not, but I should at least try to blog about more than one TV show.

So now I’d like to invite you into the world of my scattered thoughts. None important enough for a blog of their own, but with their powers combined they form a pretty comprehensive understanding of Mellie the Biddy. Let the randomness begin.

*Am still very much in love with Kurt Hummel. Want to squeeze, nurzzle and sing Liza-Barbra mashups with him.

*My current grocery list consists of trash bags, toilet paper and cat food. Could it get any sadder? Why don’t I just add depilatory cream and Hot Pockets. That’ll round out the embarrassment quite nicely.

*So apparently this is the new *it* shoe.

The new Birkenstock/Wallabee/Sperry/...? Ok, I didn’t keep up with any new shoe after the boat shoe. Sue me. Apparently this one is organic. And a poor kid gets a pair whenever you buy one. That’s nice. But I find them aesthetically not pleasing and quite strange in the toe. Also, I prefer my new shoes sans hemp, danke very much.

*I don’t know what "Steampunk" is, but if it means I get this dining room, I’d be cool with it. She has an apothecary table with Felix Felicis and Wolfsbane. I want one. I also want her wicked awesome penny desk. I mean seriously. How frickin cute? In case you’re wondering whose furniture I’m coveting, it’s the same girl behind the disastrously awesome Cake Wrecks. Am kind of wanting her life right now…

*Am watching the Biggest Loser despite it being two hours long every week (TWO HOURS.). That’s a movie. Every week. Needless to say, there’s lots of walking around/doing other stuff time during that big chunk o chunks on Tuesday nights. But I’m making predictions now:

This guy's gonna be the way hot one.

This one's gonna look like Luke Danes. Trust me.

And this one’s gonna get too pretty for her own good and be knocked up by the finale.

*I literally have piles of clothes all over my apartment. But, I semi-cleaned my kitchen last night so that makes the former completely acceptable.

*While scouring the Sip n Strokes galleries for a painting that I can knock off for Sister’s new bedroom, I find this. This exists. Twenty-some odd people are going to buy a bottle of wine and pay $35 to paint this:

People who create fan art should be put down for their own well being.

*Food blogs make me happy. Not necessarily recipe blogs, but blogs of what people are eating. Because of this little number, I’ve become mildly obsessed with Cliff bars, made curry chicken salad and have bought the fixins to make pumpkin gnocchi. I have not, however, embraced her Fage and granola obsession. There should never be a cause to eat plain yogurt. It’s like chewing on paste. [And as a sidenote: Went to her website to get the URL and I see a recipe for pumpkin nutella bread staring at me. Holy crap. Winner. Must. Make. Now.]

*I want to own this:

And this:

And while I'm at it, this one too:

Must become friends with Jim Horwat. If he would do a Chorus Line or Bad Seed print, I might just have to marry him.

Pajama Party on PR

2010-10-09T10:15:00.020-05:00

I feel ya, Wretchen. Let's talk about it.

Well, welcome back for another magical week, er, no. Another illustriously talented, hmpf, nope. An episode chock full of colorful characters and unprecedented skill and taste...Nuh uh. Oh whatevs, welcome back to another week at Project Runway where they make glorified sweat suits for Heidi.

Yup. This week Heidi's the client because Project Runway no long has any favors left in their arsenal and are forced to turn to their "Not Even a Victoria's Secret Angel Anymore, So Really What Say Does She Have In Fashion?" host. Ohh--oh, she's about to answer my own question. She has a New Balance line now. Pardon? I'm pretty sure this woman has never even worn a pair of tennis shoes, so I'm quite confused how the good folks over at New Balance even got her number. Anyway, the point is that the six minions left will design a look for her collection that will be sold on Amazon.com. To give them a better understanding of her "aesthetic," *coughbullshitcough* she's bringing out their models to show off her blood, sweat and elastic waists.

It's Little Grey Slopping Hood.

And the extras from Flashdance.

This is a travesty. We are two cuts away from the finals. And they're about to design a velour track suit for a challenge? Am completely appalled. *This* is where terms like 'avant garde' and 'couture' should be popping up. *Not* 'drawstring' and 'fleece.' If this right here is high fashion, then my sock drawer is a Mecca of runway readiness. I'm even agreeing with Wretchen (I know, the pearls are clutched), that her line is retail and basic and obviously not meant to be exercised in. Oooo G just fashion bitch slapped Heidi. Anyway, I wanna punch this challenge in the tooth.

Ah, but we've only just begun. Heidi gives them giant bolts of grey crap, so the trip to Mood is really just for buttons and butt zippers. And there's no Swatch. Officially wearing cranky pants. Duke of Earl Grey and Pinkies Up enters the workroom to check on his dear little foundlings, but. He's not alone. Enter Heidi. Now a few short weeks ago we had Sir Michael Kors in the workroom and it was Heaven. Will today produce the same results? Eff no. She's abrasive and trying on clothes and being a first class snotty pants. Maybe Mondo just hasn't put in a zipper yet, Heidi. Uncle Tim. Reel. Her. In. So yeah, Herr Heidi's visit derailed dear funny like a monkey Mondo and set him back to weird introverted Episode One Mondo. All in all, she made people gape at her commentary, throw fabric and was a capital C U Next Tuesday.

Work, work, commercial break, work...And Lord Gunn is back. There's more to this challenge. Of course there is. Everyone's pretty much done with their sacks of grey "active wear." They have to add two more pieces to their "collection," but they won't have to work on their own. TG introduces the help (aka the people who hate Michael C). Poor Just Michael is pissed that the C is back on the end of his name, and would rather have the mothers back to help with this challenge. And with the exception of Casanooooova, so would I. You can imagine my joy to see Miss Soap Palate herself back in the room.

Anywho, Mondo picks Val Pal; Gretchen's with Casanoooova; April and Peaches are reunited; Andy's with Michael D (who's already taking "Must Dumb Down Shit for Michael D" Ivy pills.); Michael C picks the lesser of two evils with AJ, and Christopher ends up with Ivy (Which is oh-so-tragic. The past few weeks he's been channeling Ivy with his dishwater designs and having the actual her on his team is so not gonna help the situation.)

Randomly and mid-sew Ivy starts pointing that crooked bony finger of hers at Just Michael calling him a cheater, cheater pumpkin eater for "taping" his model into her Jackie O dress. Oh good Lord. Just spit up in my mouth a little bit. After Just Michael asks her how it feels to be eliminated for a crappy design, Ivy leaves the sew room, tells everyone she can find that she made MC cry and then got a needle to the eye ball. Ivy, Karma. Karma, Ivy. Now that introductions are complete, we await the Gunn's imminent arrival.

"I hear there are some accusations of cheating. Well, if it had happened we would have seen it with one of our many cameras. Fuck you, Ivy. Get back to work, you little butter-designing snake."

And it's Runway Day. Mondo came dressed as Kate Gosselin.

Gretchen came as a tranny Heidi. (The kind with mountains and lame Clara, not the one with short skirts and Seal.)

Let's just skip over the fact that Krazy Klum forgot her makeup today (Maybe Gretchen should have shared...) and get right to the runway, shall we? We shall.

The Not Good Enough for New Balance

Gretchen

Is that a turban?

Oh it's all just so tacky and dated. Pretty sure that computer chick from Weird Science would wear every single one of those outfits. Once again, Gretchen can't fathom why she's in the bottom. I swear, if the judges aren't motorboating her, there's just nothing that can please her. Bugghhh.

Just Michael

Ok, so um. I love pumpkin-spice everything. But not so crazy about it in MC Hammer pant form. I can't complain about a giant cardigan hoodie, but that belt with the terry cloth dress is indeed wack-a-doo. But this was in the bottom because the other MC strayed from Heidi's vast color palate of grey and greyer.

The "No Sweat"s (ba dum bump)

April

Of course she made her signature black short shorts. The rest looks as if it's been designed and constructed by Omar the Tentmaker. And I'm sorry, but an arm band does not "active wear" make. I don't get this challenge.

Mondo

Ah, I actually like. The headbands are wack-tastic but cute, and they make these spruced up pajamas look like a collection. I think I would've let Mondacious Mondo win four in a row...

The Blue Light Special

Christopher

K-Mart clearance bin. Nothing more; nothing less. Just sad, paltry excuses for clothes.

The Grungeon Master

Andy

I mean. It's all right. It's channeling a zebra. Or an exoskeleton. And is ginormous. Andy claims to have loved this challenge because he loves being comfortable. Really? Mr. Slip of a Tank Top likes to be comfortable? I never would have guessed. Whatevs. Guess it would have been too embarrassing to hand Mondo over his fourth win in a row. He can start the streak again next week.

So I'm afraid we have to say goodbye to our hot hottie Christopher.

Hate to see you go, but we love to watch you leave.

Brave Like a Monkey

2010-10-01T11:48:00.026-05:00

Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of our Runway…Cue orchestral music, swelling crescendo, and fade to workroom. (What? This was an emotional and kind of grown up episode. I gotta class it up in here. Sort of.) Seriously though. There’s some hard hitting info this week. Does that mean I’m sticking snark in the closet this recap? Goodness, no. I’d have nothing to write about. I’m just warning there may be a little sap. A little bit. This is not a writing element I am comfortable with. I don’t sap, wallow or gush. It’s hard. I don’t like it. But come on, it might happen in the upcoming paragraphs and you should brace yourselves.

The cast of characters. A healthy mix of Party of Five, Kids Incorporated and My So Called Life.

On to the workroom!

The designers enter to find tons of fancy shmancy HP-tough-thinga-ma-jigs with lots of baby pictures. A-dorable. Mondo was a matador. Just Michael was a cross dresser. I love the mini baby designers. It reminds me of when the muppets have flashbacks. They’re just so stinkin precious. I now want all the baby designers to burst into song and speak in high falsetto voices. I think it’d make an adorable spin-off.

Mondo would be Gonzo. How much you wanna bet next week he'll wear a red jumper with a yellow chick on the front? I'll put 5 buck on it.

Anywho, the oo’s and ah’s cease as Duke of Masterpiece Theater and Tassel Loafers enters the room with the HP lady. Ah, it’s another sponsor-inspired challenge. Maybe next week they’ll have to design a cocktail dress out of Garnier bottles. But yeah, the challenge. They’re bringing back the “create your own textile” from last season. Which I actually really liked. I’m just hoping in the back of my head that no one pulls an Emilio Sosa and makes his own tacky branded fabric that will go on to win. That made me vom. So anyway, the HP lady painfully gets through her speech to the designers. I don’t know what she said. It hurt to listen. She sounded as if she was in lots of pageants when she was younger. And lost lots of pageants when she was younger. Buugh. Thankfully Dr. Gunn takes the reins and finishes the details. The designers will use something from the childhood/life to inspire their fabric. Alright. I can get behind that. That kind of rules out anyone using their initials in the print, so…Winner. Oh, and TWO DAY challenge. Yes.

The designers get to planning: Valerie’s creating a print reminiscent of blue prints like the ones her dad would bring home from work and let her play with. That’s kind of adorable. I hope she pulls it out this week. Just Michael’s making something to do with an evil eye. Quoi? Like at Mordor? I think his familial life is a topic I shall stay away from…

Gretchen is inspired by a sun bonnet. OK. Nothing says high fashion like a sun bonnet.

"I am Wretchen. I am also known as Femullet."

April’s making a divorce dress. Think it’ll be black? Hrm. I wonder. Tough call. Mondo gets to chatting about his print and I’m thinking he’s gonna be making a coming out dress. And not a Sally Moffet/Meg March coming out dress either (ba dum dump. Ah, literary humor.) But then…Whoa. Mondo tells us he’s been HIV+ for ten years. And he’s been afraid to tell his family. This makes me muy le sad. I want to hug. And the fact that he’s been going through that alone makes me want to cry. Sniffles.

Oh, and Andy’s print is going to be memory bubbles. Christopher’s using his mom’s favorite color and something about San Francisco. Read: Cop out. Come on. Boo. Be more like Mondo.

Little Lord FauntleGunn enters to share that there are some special guests in the building…It’s family day on PR! Tears, mouths agape, pearls clutched…Lots of blubbering happiness. I hate Gretchen less when her poor mother who she never gets to see because she’s taking care of her invalid father walks into the workroom and tears abound. Just Michael cries crazy machine gun tears and scares his child. Most of the designers get their moms, but Christopher got his partner JJ. Oh the adorable man-love.

The Fashion School Marm announces that class is dismissed early and the mothers/children/lovers of the designers and co. skip off into the New York sunset to enjoy the day.

Day Two: It’s Valerie’s birthday. Uh oh. I have the feeling if you announce your birthday on a reality show, you’re gonna get kicked out. Because these shows are a bitch. And want to make you feel bad about yourself on every level possible. Am now quite worried for Val Pal.

Tim comes to visit and check out their wares. April’s up first, and yes the story’s there but the judge’s won’t respect your emotion. Tim knows his shit. He makes her get rid of the crazy fluffy shoulder and makes her dress better. Michael’s feedback was positive. He’s already edited. Tim approves. Christopher wants to make a shell…Because of something to do with the ocean…Tim looks at him funny. Andy has nothing, so Tim can say nothing. Egads. Gretchen made a yoke. That does not sound promising in the world of fashion vernacular. Valerie’s is deemed an 80s ice dancer with a pu pu platter of construction patterns. Yikes. No bueno. Mondo doesn’t give the meaning behind his pattern away, but Timmy loves the print. As dear Papa Gunn goes to leave the workroom he gets all verklempt and teary eyed. He’s so proud. Love so much. Want to squeeze.

Runway day has arrived and Mondo’s rocking the curly pompadour like Lyle Lovette and that kid from Biggest Loser last season for the occasion.

And holy holy shit. Did Andy just say that Michael has grown on him? And someone in the workroom actually said they “loved” Michael C. Brr. Think I just felt a cold front come in from hell. Wow. And with that …

Runway time!

Not Goin Anywhere

Gretchen

I actually like the print. I'd wear that outfit with a cardigan and without the ass apron, but what does that say? I'm wearing a Ross dress right now. This is not high fashion. This show is. Step it up.

Just Michael

Um...Not the biggest fan of mustard piping. It's impossible for that color to not read Ronald McDonald. Overall, I give it an "eh." Safe.

Christopher

Bored. It's Ivy in aqua. There's nothing special about it. Pretty sure you could find that outfit in any JC Penny near you.

The Close But No Cigar

April

Well it's black. But at least she's got some white in there this week with her fabric. Despite her design being a little "emo kid drawing his soul" or "Breakfast Club chick with the snow dandruff," it's one of my favorites this week. But dear lord, can I see some color next week? Please. Pretty please? Then maybe they'll let you win again. Sidenote to Nina: Please don't call a print that represents the tearing apart of a family, "charming." Baahhh.

The Should've Been

Andy

Oh, he should be embarrassed. It's business casual meets hooker. It's atrocious and he should be escorted from the premises. Your outfit has upset the guest judge. It's sad, disappointing and unwearable. Ew.

The Kiss Today Goodbyes
(Yes, this is from A Chorus Line. Yes, I meant you to read it in your head with a sing-song voice.)

Valerie

Ok, um. This isn't a losing outfit. So the lining's a little weird. And the top's a little "Kenley Spears" from a few seasons back. And the bottom's a little reminiscent of her party store dress. It's still more interesting than half of the stuff on the runway. And you so can't point the finger at Valerie for referencing a past design when April sends something tight and black down the runway every week. It should have been safe. Christopher should've been in the bottom and Andy should be home where he wants to be. That's it. The end.

Once, Twice, Three Times a Winner
(Again, to be read in a sing-song voice)

Mondo

Way to go, lil buddy! I will say the pants are far too high. The judges and I both agree on that. Once again, his print combos seem completely wack-a-doo, but again I really like it. And dear Lord, I'm pretty sure Nina Garcia came when the model took off her jacket to reveal the matching lining. And I really didn't want the judges to make him tell them the background to his inspiration. It's his business and he didn't have to share if he wasn't comfortable.

Come the end of judging, Mondo works up the courage to tell his story. And look at his outfit: This is not a manipulation tactic. He doesn't need to say anything to get the win. He's brave and honest and doesn't cry and makes beautiful clothes out of an unfortunate situation. I lurv him. Brave like a monkey, is he.

Tom and Lorenzo had a lovely little Mondo blurb among their fashion cutdowns and witticisms:

We're thrilled that he won and that he had this emotional breakthrough but we're even more thrilled at the idea that tons of little babygays may have watched last night and learned that being honest about oneself is not something to fear and that there is a place in the world where those who are true to themselves - no matter how hard that may be; no matter how much of a price may be paid - are better off than those who suffer in silence. Lately it seems like a gay kid is killing himself every other day. It's not hyperbole at all to suggest that Mondo may actually have saved some lives last night.

Back in the waiting room, the newly auffed Valerie goes around the room and addresses each designer individually about how much she loves and respects them. Good God. Couldn't you just write them a note or something? Was Tim running late? Did the producers ask you to stretch out your goodbye time? It's like sitting in on the sharing circle from the last night of sleep-away-camp. Cut it out.

Tim, the proud papa, enters and while I know his duties are to send Valerie up to the workroom to clean up her space, I know deep down he just wants to swaddle our Mondo and rock him to sleep. You can see it in those dear bedroom eyes of his.

In the words of Jerry Springer, until next time, take care of yourselves and each other. (Gah, that would be such a nice sentiment if it didn't come from Jerry...Just pretend the Dalai Lama said it, ok?)

Sister-Birthday-Eat-Sing-Creek-O-Rama-Weekend

2010-09-28T16:49:00.005-05:00

It’s no big secret that I lurv my sister. Love, love, lurv her.

And to celebrate the day of her birth some twenty-murmur-murmur years ago, she came to see me! Winner. Sister time and I don’t have to drive anywhere. That’s the definition of “success.” But she didn’t just come to see me. I’m a Broadway in Birmingham patron now (heck yeah I am!), and we had our first musical of the season. So Sister came for a weekend chock full of cupcakes, awesome food and musicals.

Quick rundown of Food Weekend:

Silver Coin Indian Grill (nom, nom, curry nom)

Edgar’s cupcakes (the Birmingham standard of delicious baked goods)

Homewood Gourmet (Inside was a little awkwardly quiet and small, but move yourself to the patio and all you’ve got is awesome food to distract you. Mmmm.)

Dreamcakes cupcakes (Did you seriously think we would only have one variety of cupcake for Sister’s big weekend? And I almost hate to say it, but…Move over Edgar’s, there’s a new cupcake sheriff in town. Holy eff yum.)

Surin (About time I made the trip. Now I’m wondering what took me so long because there is a roll that not only comes with tempura shrimp…and cream cheese, but also panang curry sauce. Jesus Christ. Mother Mary. Wunderbar.)

Yogurt Mountain (Um. Self serve giant fro yo bar. What’s not perfect about that?)

Another Broken Egg Café (I love brunch. And I love the Jewish people for constructing bagels topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Whoever decided on that combo deserves a mini muffin basket courtesy of yours truly.)

Musical Rundown:

Legally Blonde was absolutely adorable. So cute. So fun. So pink. Kristin Chenoweth would be the perfect Elle. (Granted, she could probably only get away with being Elle’s spunky aunt now, but still. When Chenoweth was 20 this would’ve been her part, man.) Oh, and our seats rule. Center. Orchestra. Boom, outta here.

But we didn’t just eat and sing. We Creeked. Creeked? What’s Creeked? Let me explain.

The first two seasons of Dawson’s Creek were on sale at Target and…Um. I couldn’t say no. I’m a sucker for cheap TV. And old school WB. Sister and I sailed through the first season this weekend and it was pure awkward magic. We’ve decided that a drinking game must be formulated. Partake every time Joey shrugs, Dawson flops on a piece of furniture, someone says “virgin” or whenever you hide behind your hands in embarrassment by proxy. You’d be shitfaced after the first episode. Pretty much the best money I ever spent.

HAPPY CONTINUED BIRTHDAY, SISTER!!

Well...Swatch Looked Good

2010-09-24T14:29:00.018-05:00

Oh dear-hearts, what is this show coming to? First of all, the producers totally screwed up the timing of the episode because apparently it was Halloween on Project Runway this week.

Gretchen came as Pippi Longsucking

Andy showed up as Mulan.

And Mondo dressed as a six-year-old lesbian.

Oh, and Swatch came to the party disguised as adorable num nums.

But seriously…Back to the show. We have a crazy unique challenge to unfold (*cough*yeahright*cough*). Collier Strong is in the workroom and that can only mean one thing: L’Oreal has new eyeshadow to peddle and this is where that nifty makeup room gets paid for. Hey, 90 minute commercials cost a lot, yo. Each designer has to pick a type of shadow finish, design a “high fashion” look based on that finish (Time out: You’re on a design show. Do you really ever want to produce anything that’s low fashion? Or moderate fashion? Just sayin… Time in.), and the winner will have their design featured in a L’Oreal advertorial (Ad speak for “having to pay for a story to be published in a magazine because the pub won’t actually write an article about you based on their own free will.”) and $20,000. Now, the cash is nice. Winner, winner.

We come to find that all the designers are poor (Um, surprise surprise?). Gretchen has collection agents hounding her. Maybe she should stop buying python leggings. That would save some cash.

April just wants a little pony. God, I love her more and more each episode.

Anyway, the designers pick their eyeshadow inspiration and that’s the last time that choice is relevant or referred to for the rest of the competition.

Mondo and Ivy go for “bright.” Christopher and Valerie opt for “crystal.” April wants “matte” (and a little pony). Michael (aw. “Just Michael”.) and Andy pick “metallic,” and Gretchen is the lone designer to fall for “velvet.” They've got two days (TWO DAYS!) to make it happen. Then the Lord of Textiles declared his mignons go forth and make shit. And it was done. And it was shitorious.

With $300 bucks in hand, the designers storm Mood in search of their vessels of couture horror. Ivy has actually decided to use color. *Gasp* Well clutch my pearls...But she's worried about it. Because it's not the hue of margarine. Ugh. Valerie has chosen silk. But. "Silk is hard. Cutting silk is hard. Everything with silk is hard." And all I can think is..."I keep taking the test over and over again. But I'm all like, this is hard?"

Sir Duke of Windsor Knots and Magniloquent Vocabulary enters the workroom and...Is it just me or was it a whirlwind critique? I didn't pick up on too much. Valerie's was "ambitious." He told Mondo to "go big." Andy had a talking head over April's Tim Time, so I don't know what was said about hers. Gretchen's caftan (Who wants to wear a caftan anyway? Do you also have 18 cats and house shoes to go with that massive mistake?) looks like a robe. Because it is.

But it doesn't really matter if Sir Gunn's critiques were quick this week because I got to see this:

The "I think your lackluster dress-made-of-waves story is full of horse shit, Ivy" Stink Eye. *Swoon*

It seems just as Tim left the room he returned; He has an annoucement that has even taken him aback. Uh-uh-uh there's a twist?? Who'da thunk it. Of course there's gonna be a twist. Have they seen this show before? In addition to their high fashion look, they most also provide a corresponding ready to wear piece. (Hey, Project Runway. Christian Siriano called. He wants his season back.) I mean really...They should have been ready for this all along.

In the midst of the mouths-agaped-workroom-crisis, Valerie has a meltdown. Her dresses suck. The waterworks kick in. She escapes to bathroom. Wah, wah, wah. She's gotta put on her big girl pants or I'm gonn sock her in the mouth.

Anway, whether the designers like it or not, runway day is upon them and it's time for the weekly parade of crap. And oh, it is indeed spectacular this week.

But first. Um. Andy? What troll at Garnier gave you stick-in hair extensions? Between that and the gloves he looks like Michael Jackson meets Asian Reporter Tricia Takanawa meets Boy George meets Avatar.

Tell me it's not true. No, seriously. Try. Ya can't, can you? Told you so.

Alrighty enough jibber jabber. On to the runway.

The Forgotten

Christopher

Oh good God. So so many things ran through my head as this aberration came down the runway. Ballerina! Ice dancer! Toilet paper! Kleenex coozie! It's nothing but a swaddled, horrific disaster. The R2W is a nothing sort of a dress. It's channeling Ivy. It might as well not exist. This should have been bottom-bound and I'll fist fight with anyone who disagrees.

April

I actually really liked April's dresses this week. I would have liked them a lot more had I not already seen them in six other challenges, but whatever. I mean, is that R2W look not an exact replica of last week's dress? The answer, in case you're searching for it, is yes. April, you shall be deemed to mediocre-hood if you don't branch out, and you better do it soon.

The Lowly Bottomfeeders

Valerie

Yikes. It's just sad. And boring. And derivative. And boring. Plus, um. How are these two looks at all related? They look like they wouldn't even come in the same Sear's line. You have some major ground to cover next week, Val, because after the past two catastrophes and your wimpy reality show martyr speech, I'm *this* close to being A OK with you going home.

Just Michael

That hem. And that train. Are. Wack-a-doo. The rest isn't that bad. They're both well made, and he actually stuck to his "metallic" theme. Oh, and his R2W dress is pretty cute. Heidi's critique of the R2W was that you can't have both legs and boobs. She doesn't know where to look. You must pick one as to not confuse her eyes. Heids...You are not allowed to speak.

What up Legs-Boobs McGee.

The Contenders

Gretchen

Shut your face. It is dumpy and once again, offensive. To. My. Eyes. She looks like a flapper grandma. And her ready to wear is not at all related to the high fashion piece. Ugh. She has designed for Maude. Loathe.

Andy

It's as if his model has walked through a minefield of Chinese lanterns. His boots have flippers.

Um, he just stole one of April's dresses for his ready to wear. What of it?

Winner, Winner. So Nice They Named it Twice

Mondo

Look at you, Like-a-Monkey Mondo taking home a second win! I'll say somthing about Mondo. His stuff always looks a little wacky. But I like it. The wack works. Oh, and it looks like Phillip Treacy isn't the only one who can make a hat. Although, I will say there is no forgiving that black panel in his high fashion look. It's too short and sloppy looking. But his R2W is adorable. Love. Again, this was an obvious win. You enjoy that $20,014 in your bank account, buddy!

The Cancelled

IVY

Bah ha! YES! Looks like the Ivy Show could only make it through half a season. Hope you and your ill-fitting-awkward-bust-line bridal wear like the taste of defeat. I'm not even going to elaborate. I'm just going to sit back and bask in the fact that PR is one wench down. Only one more to go. We shall prevail!

I hope April gets her little pony.

Olly, Olly Oxen Free!

2010-09-22T16:11:00.005-05:00

Alright kids, looks like Lovely Lacey over at Southern in the City tagged me playground-style in a little question-o-rama, and I in turn am to come up with another eight questions and play my own little version of blogging Red Rover, so let’s get to it, shall we?

If you had to choose one, what reality show would you go on and why?

Oo, well. Hrm. As a connoisseur of reality programming, I’ve developed a refined palate for enjoyable viewing. The Real World is out because, well. That hasn’t been relevant to me since 2002. Maybe not even since the Seattle season… Survivor is a no go because like I’ve said before: Mellie = “indoorsy.” I’m not tan enough for Jersey Shore. Not talented enough for So You Think You Can Dance. Too talented for Dancing with the Stars. Too smart for the Bachelor. Too judgmental and conservative dressing for Project Runway…Think that leaves me with Top Chef. Yep, if I were more skilled in the kitchen I’d definitely go with Top Chef. Padma’s a winner; Tom’s a fox (or bear, whatevs), and it’s a recent Emmy winner. Yep. Take that Hell’s Kitchen.

What is one landmark in the world you hope to one day see one day?

You know, there’s still so much that I haven’t seen, but I think I’ve gotta check the Grand Canyon off my list. Yes, am muy “indoorsy,” but I can still appreciate the great outdoors and what not. And seriously, in the words of Marv of the Wet/Sticky Bandits, “Whoa! What a hole.”

What has been your favorite vacation ever?

Well, the favorite vacation is yet to come. And technically it’s still a hypothetical, but Sister and I have talked of a long New York theater weekend. Four days chock full of Broadway and an Adam Richman/Stanley Tucci hunt. Ok, Sister hasn’t been made aware of the latter yet, but I’m gonna find one of those kids and marry him.

If you were to start your own restaurant, what would it be called and what would you make?

The Pie Hole. Yes, I'm stealing from Pushing Daisies, and if that gets me one step closer to the Pie Maker and Kristin Chenoweth, I'm OK with that. Plus Ma Jo hates that expression, and watching her cringe is a favorite past time of mine. Ma and Sister dream of opening a bakery, so I'm staying away from the baked goods territory, but pie. Pie is totally different. And I do love pie.

What's the most embarrassing CD you have in your collection?

Besides all of my musicals? I also have celebrity interviews from NPR that I’ve downloaded and burned, and I’m pretty sure I still have Billy Ray Cyrus (Some Gave All) and Trisha Yearwood (The Song Remembers When) in the back sleeve of my CD book. I'm not ashamed. Ok, maybe I am.

You can only eat 5 different foods for the rest of your life, what are they?

"That's easy. Pez. Cherry flavored Pez." (Can anybody name that reference? Come on, who wants to be my newest movie quoting buddy??) But seriously: Hmmm. This is a hard one. Ok here goes.

1. Any sushi roll with cream cheese and ideally tempura fried.
2. Edgar's cupcakes
3. Nutella
4. Chicken salad
5. Onion rings

I will also be the size of a house.

What's the one movie you could watch over and over?

It's a Wonderful Life. Cry every time. No seriously, every. Time. If you don't...I'm pretty sure you're dead inside.

What is the most exciting experience you've had so far in your life?

Oh gosh, I don't know...I'm quite dull. Um--Maybe finally getting a job? And a paycheck. And insurance. After months and months of job hunting failure. Yeah, that was pretty exciting.

As far as my new batch of questions, I'm channeling James Lipton channeling Bernard Pivot (Or more appropriately I'm actually probably channeling Will Ferrell channeling James Lipton channeling Bernard Pivot). So go ahead and picture yourself in front of an audience of desperate actors and a bearded wonder with a stack of blue cards next to you, because you're bout to be on the Actors Studio. (As far as the tagging goes, I say: If you read me. You're it. Got a blog? Copy and paste, my friend. No blog? That's what the comments section is for.)

And because I'm even more of a rebel, you get ten questions, not eight. What? You didn't think I would disrespect Ferrell-Lipton-Pivot, did you?

1. What is your favorite word?

2. What is your least favorite word?

3. What turns you on? (creatively, spiritually, emotionally)

4. What turns you off?

5. What is your favorite curse word?

6. What sound or noise do you love?

7. What sound or noise do you hate?

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

9. What profession would you not like to do?

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

I've Got a Whole Box of "It's Not Gonna Work Out"

2010-09-21T16:25:00.003-05:00

Last week I got a chance to see one of my besties. One of my lurvs. One of my fellow Harry Potter Musical quoters. One of my other halves floating around out there. After watching her kick some major racquetball ass (no seriously, she’s a rock star), we went the Rinc (The only Mexican place in Tuscaloosa. Ok, ok, the only one that matters.), and over a couple of cactus-stemmed margarita glasses we had the talk. The “single girl trying to put herself out there talk.” But of course since it was us, there was no crying. No moping. Just fits of laughter and elaborate hand gestures which result in the flinging of straws from said cactus marg glasses.

I guess it all got started when Miss A decided she needed to get married stat because there’s some hella cute Bama babywear out right now. Ah, yes, nothing like a ticking uterus to kick the quest for your life mate into high gear. It was decided that if she absolutely had to have the houndstooth onesie…Because she knew with all her heart that she’d never find a onesie more perfect than this onesie, that she could buy it. And keep it in a box. Hidden deep in her closet. That she’ll never speak of until she is in fact in labor with future child. Because let’s face it, the whole casual dating thing leads to an arsenal of “It’s just not going to work out,” “I don’t feel the chemistry,” “I don’t think I’m ready," "It's not you, it's me" excuses, and if something like this…That you have a stash of Alabama-centric baby gear hoarded away…comes out in conversation, you might as well call it quits and declare, “I’ve got a whole box of it’s not gonna work out,” cut your losses and run. And thus our motto for the evening was formed.

So Singletons, (or former Singletons) let’s have a little honesty. What is (was) your whole box of “not gonna work out”? Is it a baby clothes collection? Or something more along the lines of what’s in my box…?

*My need to buy cheap retro movies because I know, inevitably, I will want my future children to watch them (i.e. Milo and Otis, Muppets Take Manhattan, the made-for-TV-people- version of Snow White, the Emperor’s New Clothes [yes, the one with Sid Caesar. Think Sunday Night Disney circa 1989])

*Cat. No really. Need I say more?

*My inability and unwillingness to share. Food, TV, bed, downtime. All the most important things. They are mine and there’s no room for anyone else on a regular basis.

*A collection of nightgowns (mostly given to me by my mother), which have long been deemed my own unique variety of birth control by one of my other other halves…

Ok, I spilled. Your turn.

On a totally separate note, who’s pumped for Premiere Week? We’ve already jumped into the new Dancing with the Stars (told ya I wouldn’t miss it. And The Situation, Hoff and Dur da Dur Palin did not fail to disappoint). Tonight we’ve got Glee (Gleeeee!), Parenthood (but major catching up to do first) and Biggest Loser on deck. Wednesday is Hell’s Kitchen, Modern Family and the culmination/reunion of Top Chef and the continuation of Top Chef: Just Desserts. Thursday’s packed with Community, perhaps $#*! My Dad Says (although, I’m not trusting new CBS comedies. Mike and Molly was a big tankeroo, flush pocket last night. Woof.), the Office, more Project Runway and the popular trio Grey’s-Private Practice-30 Rock that I’m not into, but to each her own. And on HBO we've got the new Boardwalk Empire and the return of Bored to Death. Whooo.

Am I missing anything? Hurry before little DVR gets too worn out. (He really needs a name, doesn’t he? Yeah, while you’re telling me what’s in your box, give my lil buddy a name, would ya? K, thanks.)

Just a Biddy

Where ARE We??

You are so dumb. You are really, really dumb.

Wanna Fanta, Don't You Wanna Wanna Fanta.

I guess PR and I are on a break.

He is...quite large.

Boooooooobs.

Tim Gunn Thinks You Need Jesus.

I like real depressing music.

Her Demographic is 40 to Death.

Joan Crawford's St. Patty's Day Party. I'll bring the acorn squash puree.

Chicken Creepers

It's Off Grain, Bitch.

America circa 2041 is doomed

I had rabbits. But they all died.

Never Enough Tim Gunn

Are you speaking foreign?

Letters from the Biddy

Truly, Truly, Truly Outrageous

You know me, right?

One down, 100 to go.

The Big 101

A Week of *Winning*

Long Lii-ii-iive the King

No eHarmony for Womack: The Ladies

Brad Womack Hasn't Heard of eHarmony.

Death by Satellite Radio

A Crummy Commercial? Son of a Bitch.

I was soo right...

Plateful of Thankful

Gracias to Glee

A Weekend Chock Full of Danke

Happy Birthday!

A Time to Give Danke

I...Buh..Wha? No.

There's Power in the Velvet

Recapping in Protest

My Life in a Nutshell.

Pajama Party on PR

Brave Like a Monkey

Sister-Birthday-Eat-Sing-Creek-O-Rama-Weekend

Well...Swatch Looked Good

Olly, Olly Oxen Free!

I've Got a Whole Box of "It's Not Gonna Work Out"

A Week of Winning