I’ve had all I can stands, I can’t stands no more

OK, up until now I’ve kept mostly quiet about my addiction to Project Runway. I’m not a fashionista. I couldn’t tell you who wore who or what on the red carpet. I couldn’t spontaneously rattle names of five designers if my life or, in this case, a blog entry depended on it: Ralph Lauren, Versace, Prada, El Dulche and Gabor um.. see, I can’t do it. However, I do like watching catty bitches backstabbing each other while simultaneously producing something fabulous.

If not fabulous then at least laughably hideous, as with Kenley in this challenge.

Bitchy queens cutting hair, I can’t seem to get into; but sit a diva down at a sewing machine and I’m gonna Tivo it. There’s something about some scrawny malnourished waif of human debris strutting down a three foot wide catwalk in tacky, outlandish garments that brings out the gay in me. Plus, I like saying “garment.”



I had to say something about this weeks auf’ing. Yes, Suede bugged the hell out of me, with his whole 3rd personishness and constant stories about his dead relatives giving him design tips, but he at least he wasn’t a delusional, egotistical, spoiled see-you-next-Tuesday like this Kenley wench. This is one of the most obvious producer-made decisions the show’s had and if it wasn’t for the fact that the last 5 designers showed at Bryant Park anyway, I’d really be upset.

Whatever the hell Bryant Park is.

I was waiting for LL Cool J to pop Kenley in the mouth after she basically called Hip-Hop fashion foolish to his face. I mean, the whole oversized clothing thing IS foolishness but I would never tell LL that to his face, shit.

Even his MAMA said knock her out.

If it wasn’t for Tim’s three pieced vested hotness I’m not sure I could have sat through this week’s awkward episode in one sitting, let alone twice. In slow motion.

While taking screenshots:

Tipsy thoughts, 3:41am in a cab.

This doesn’t qualify for a a full on Drunken Thoughts post, but it’ll do.

I just spent the last couple hours sitting next to some guy in Omega, trying to seem interested but not crazy too-interested. He spent the last couple hours talking catty with his friend about people in the bar and making me laugh —to myself mostly, I probably wasn’t supposed to be listening to them, cause that’d be kind of eavesdropping and creepy-like. His friend totally busted me a few times and repeated a few comments for my benefit. That was a good sign, I think. I tried to interact, but I felt like a dork for some reason, so I didn’t say much.

The lights flickered. the bartender shouted “last call” and we wound up walking back down P Street in close proximity but not together, if you know what I mean. We talked a little during the walk, at Dupont Circle I turned right and they went left. I missed the train. and suddenly had to pee.

Real bad.

At this hour it was either Kramerbooks or Annie’s, since that’s all I know that’s open with a public restroom. I’m still boycotting Kramer’s so I decided on Annie’s.

I was alone so once I got to Annie’s I requested a seat at the bar rather than waste a four-top during the closing time rush.

Of course, I ended up getting a stool a few seats away from them. I heard his friend say “ask him if he missed his train”, but I was never spoken to. I just sat there eating my burger and fries, wishing I would have brought a book to occupy my mind or at least brought the nerve to tell him I missed the train myself.

Literally and figuratively.

I’m home, so I will now say goodnight.