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Scene: sg-dub with baby-dub in arm, dinner on the stove, phone rings in the house.
“Hey, sg-dub, it’s EdHill. Can you handle the Project Runway recap this week?”
“Sure, I’ll try – why, what’s up?”
“Well, you know me; I’m going all Greg Brady this week with 2 hot dates per night through the weekend which I have to squeeze in between my Iron Man training, Chippendales gig, and re-upholstering my yacht with that baby seal fur I got from that sheik in Dubai.”
“Oh yeah, silly of me to question you… I’ll get right on it. Goodnight Snookums.”
So here I am, trying to remember how to write a recap – for a show that I have only been watching in passing. AND I’m filling in for EdHill who has ascended to cult status during my hiatus. AND since I’m filling in for EdHill, I have to take a few extra measures: pSell cheker turnd off? Check. Grammar punctuation checker turne’d off check Shameless pimping myself to the female readers ready to go? Check. Hellooooooooooo Ladies! How are your cooters doing?
Ick. There’s only one EdHill and I dare not attempt to emulate him anymore. On to the recap after the jump.
As mentioned, although I have a special affinity for Project Runway, I have not devoted my full attention to it this season. As a result, I took to referring the designers as: the black guy, the cute girl, the German girl, the old lady, the neck guy, the dirty hippie guy, the dirty hippie girl, the gay guy, the gay guy with glasses, the other gay guy with glasses… And that doesn’t work so well here. So bear with me if I screw up a name here or there – Oh wait, im fillign in for EdHill im suppose’d to do that?
Ahhh, that’s fun. But it’s also not getting us anywhere. The episode opened with the neck guy, er, Jeffrey whining about last week’s winner, Angela the dirty hippie girl. Just so we we’re sure, Jeff clarified for us that he’s not really a Macy’s type guy so he didn’t’ really care that much about losing – gee, Jeff, not a “Macy’s type guy?” And here I thought giant neck tattoos were sooooo Fall 2006. Paging Dermatology! Stat!
Since two designers were sent packing last week, the producers instructed Heidi Klum (or as I always say, “Heidi Klummmmmmmm mmm good”) to mix up the whole model-choosing process. This week, the models would choose the designers. Since two models were to be sent home, they would pick random name buttons from the Crown Royal bag and the two leftover would be Auf’d. I call bullshit on that; but since none of the models are particularly attractive or crazy this year, I didn’t really care.
Once the business of the models choosing designers was done with, Heidi dropped another bomb: The models would also be choosing the “fashion icon” from the past from which their designer would draw inspiration! Shock and awe all around! How could it be?! The designers looked truly concerned that the girls in the slips would suffer from such a horrible cortex meltdown when called upon to make a decision. For shame… Models are people too! And they have brains! And they need our love and support! In fact, after seeing the designers impugn the modeling community at large with their judgmental elitism, I invite all models to rally around ME, sg-dub! Saturday night at the W on Lexington, 10 PM. I’m buying. (How’s that, EdHill?)
“Wow. Wow! WOW!” said Tim Gunn after witnessing the melee. It was a bit surprising, I must say. Andrea’s girl got Audrey Hepburn, but some of the other designers were even happier. “I have Pam Motherfuckin’ Grier!” yelped Michael (doo-doot, doo-doot, doodoot doodoot doodoot) Knight. He was so happy I expected a horizontal red light to appear across his chest and flash quickly from side to side. WhooshWhoosh, WhooshWhoosh. Kayne’s model grabbed Marilyn Monroe which was perfect for him. Uli was excited to have Diana Ross; “She totally fits my style!” Um, Uli, have you seen Ms. Ross lately?
All the rest seemed happy enough – all, that is, except poor Bradley Bumasmoke. His model was edged out of the fray and ended up with Cher, and Bradley Bumatoke apparently doesn’t know the first thing about Cher. Oh Bradley Bummed, if only you could Turn Back Ti-ime to learn more about fashion icons! (Rimshot!) And once again I have succeeded in cursing at least 100 or so TVgasm readers with a horrible song in their heads for the rest of the day. If you’re in a cubicle, pass on the disease! Go ahead, blurt it out: “IF I COULD TURN BACK TI-IME!” There, doesn’t that feel good?
Not content to let the spat go, Jeff jumped in and began ripping on Angela too, just for the hell of it. It’s funny that these people are so territorial and protective about their sewing machines. Pssst, guys, they’re sewing machines. There’s nothing cool about sewing machines. Nothing. But hey, if they cause fights amongst this bunch, so be it. Angela, the mother five times over, offered some maternal advice to Jeff by telling him to essentially shut up. Jeff shot back at her which prompted the sober matronly retort, “If you’re so successful, why are you here?” Ooooh, good one… I’m sure Jeff would have an equally biting yet measured response.
“God, I wish that fuckin’ bitch would have a stroke.” Damn. Game, set, match. If reality TV has taught us anything, it’s that “the black guy” is always the one with the short temper, irrational response, and anger issues. Christ, we’ve been watching young black men implode since Kevin on the very first Real World, so of course Michael’s appearance in the sewing room signaled an inevitable angry epithet-and-Ebonics-filled rant. “I say dear chaps, your time would be better served if you reconciled amicably. This bickering is not helping anyone and dare I say, is distracting us all from being fruitful.”
*Rubbing eyes* Huh? Props to my man Michael, whom I’ve liked since day one. He did throw in an “it is what it is” or two, but I can forgive that. In a vignette, Michael explained his actions: “Sometimes I gotta be Captain Save-A-Ho, as we say in the hood.” Michael rules, plain and simple. I’m definitely pulling for him to win it all now, if only so Captain Save-A-Ho can get a few extra bucks so he can visit Doctor Save-A-Jacked-Up-Smile. If all this weren’t enough, we were then treated to Michael calling his momma and giving it up for Jesus. Next thing we know, he’ll be helping Laura cross the street.
The designers carried on: Crazy-ass Vincent fretted and argued with himself alone, Kayne just LOVED the challenge (sparkles!), and Jeff was still bitter. I suppose it goes without saying that if you tattoo a bunch of Latin words across your Adam’s apple, you’re probably a pretty bitter dude. “Laura is mean, frigid, and just weird.” Points for directness, but none for humor. Though Jeff did have some very funny busts reserved for Bradley and his absolutely horrible Cher outfit. The top was an ill-fitting shirt made out of what looked to be tinfoil. Off the cuff I would have hurled something about Jiffy-Pop or Twilight Zone aliens. Jeff came through with a reference to Woody Allen’s “Sleepers,” which was spot-on. Well done, Neckboy. (Vince lamely blurted something about Major Tom but as a nebbish, he should stick to the self-deprecating humor.)
At the fitting, Kayne’s model would not shut up and Bradley’s was not only being cooked in her foil shirt, but she was suffering from severe camel toe as well. Some hair guy showed up to offer a bunch of useless advice (e.g. “For Marilyn Monroe hair, you want to emulate Marilyn Monroe. For you, for Pam Grier, you want a Pam Grier Afro. You need water to live. The sky is blue. Jonathan Antin is my hero.”
Tim Gunn sauntered in and caucused with the designers. Michael was changing up the skirt he designed to be hotpants at the last minute at which Tim intoned, “I hate hotpants.” Uh-oh, that’s a bad portent. But as we viewers know, it’s even worse when Tim says, “I’m concerned” with his chin resting in his hand which is resting on his forearm just so. And that’s just what Bradley heard when Tim viewed his absurd TWIKI outfit along with Tim’s take; “It looks like armor.” True – really cheap and shitty armor.
The judges discussed the outfits and the bottom three were Robert, whose Jackie O dress looked as though it came from Biblical times, Crazy Vincent whose Twiggy dress was said to be, “Brady Bunch” by Kors, and of course Bradley whose “cheap” and “badly made” Cher outfit looked like, “One of those old costumes you for kids you buy from the mall” according to Heidi. You know what? That’s the best insult for the shirt yet. Hey Heidi, you have my “Seal” of approval.
The bottom two were Bradley and Robert, which no one could disagree with. As crappy as Robert’s linen and rope dress was, it was clear this would be Bradley’s final week on the show. Yup – Bradley was banished and even he admitted, “I made a tinkertoy.”
Geeze, he can’t design OR come up with a coherent insult for his own space blanket shirt. But something tells me Bradley will be allllright… as long as he steers clears of the stems and seeds.