PR Episode 5: High School Gaysical….more importantly: CHRIS MARSH!

I find it really hard to have any coherent conversation about this week’s episode, as I seem to be expending all of my eloquent thoughts on NEXT week’s episode. It looks so good, I nearly exploded from the preview. Chris March. Drag queens. Tranny hot messes left and right. THANK YOU!!!!

Well, we’ve officially come back to the tried, but not so true, Project Runway group challenge! It’s been a long time, but maybe that’s because I’m remembering the veritable slew that the producers slapped us with last season. They give a wealth and then they withhold. How mean. I suppose this is the perfect time to do it though: we loyal fans have had our intelligence insulted by four episodes worth of lame-ass challenges (”hey, didn’t they do this challenge two seasons ago?”) and even more lame judging decisions (”Nina, I heard you JUST say that short, tight, and shiny was the quickest path to a skanky garment….Stella’s is all that AND tied up the side!”). Episode five, I rejoice to say, was the first this season to actually deliver something. And what it delivered was Daniel getting put in his motherf*ing place! Annoying, conceited whiny boy FAIL!

Moving on, the designers create a look for Brooke Shields. Apparently she’s a fashion icon. No one told me. Whatever. We find out it’s a group challenge and the pot of crazy begins to overfloweth–Korto tries to push people in front of buses (or something), Big Straight Joe reeks of douche, Daniel tout his impeccable taste while spraying on a thick layer of eau de tool, some white girl with bangs acts like a doormat (again), Terri whines whines whines whines whines because she’s just so street, and Suede (how dare he!) tries to save a train-wreck by planning ahead. I say all this like it’s a bad thing, but I LOVE it. The unhinging of the designers is like the first true transition of the show. It’s like puberty: first they’re all nice and innocent and flat chested, and then all of a sudden they get some acne, gain some weight, lose their confidence, and must jam the puzzle pieces of their lives back together. It’s so awkward and unnecessary. Of course, in that mess of uncertainty and misplaced anger, a few designers blossom into beautiful young men and women. I speak, of course, of my gay-man crush on Jerell.

Jerell (insert sigh), I hate to say it, is one of those designers that the judges consistently ignore when putting together the top 3. Perhaps it is a disconnect between what we see on TV and what actually walks down the runway, but save for the blue peacock mess from the model-chosen-fabric-challenge, he’s made some awesome stuff. This dress? I would wear it daily, nightly, and ever so rightly. He managed to harness the crazy power of Stella, using her energy to create a totally ballin’ leathah belt (Brooke Shields can think it’s too much….but I think her MOM is too much). He should have won just for his ability to meld their perspectives into an elegant and classy look. Much love, bro.

While I’m totally indifferent about Keith and Kenley’s dress (did anyone else it made the model’s ass look fat? That should be impossible to do.), it segues into my all time FAVORITE moment of the night: Kenley’s laugh attack over Daniel’s self-proclaimed high taste level. Kenley is like that bitch from high school: she’s got this super sweet exterior that she uses to lure in her prey, but given the opportunity she will turn on you and eat you for breakfast. Daniel–greasy greasy Daniel–made the mistake of buddying up with her in the beginning, but then got laughed at on national television. Her bitchiness was perfect and his sullen reaction was PRICELESS. If I could marry that moment, I would. And then I’d make a whole line of babies with it, grow old with it, and then be buried in adjacent graves with it.

People have been drinkin’ a lot of haterade these days when it comes to Blayne and “Leathah-face” Stella, but I am here to spread the LOVE. I would feel so justified if I were Stella: she goes from getting picked last to helping Jerell in making the best garment out there. Sure, Jerell harnessed her like the West Coast is harnessing wind power, but at least she stands for something. Like Blayne, we can’t ignore her. They are both crazy…maybe not the best designers or listeners….but they forge their own paths and they don’t let us forget it. For me, Blayne is a bit like Santino (but instead of Rasputin he looks like a rejected bronze medal): he doesn’t listen, but the producers have to keep him in because he’s good f*ing television. When will people learn: annoying hipsters never come out on top (i.e. white-girl-with-dumb-bangs #2)

Next week: DrAg QuEeNs!!!! VIKING HORNS!!!! Oh yes, and the designers have to make garments for real-people bodies. Will they survive +2-sized models? See you then….

10 guilty pleasures=10 poor life choices, college edition

These are the things that will get me through two more years of college. If they don’t kill me first.

10. Facebook
9. Mr. Big’s “To Be With You”
8. Watching a movie
7. Crazy parties
6. Eating, general
5. Visiting friends
4. The Hookah
3. Binge eating an entire box of Pop’Ems doughnut holes in an attempt to get all your stress eating out of the way in one fell swoop
2. Computer/video games: SimCity 4 is my drug of choice
1. Sleep

Dear people who play Guitar Hero,

I am not impressed by your high score, nor is anyone else. You still have no life skills and you still can’t play a real guitar. You are not a rock star and you never will be. Go outside, read a book, and stop being little shitheads.

I wish you nothing but festering boils,
Andi

Mistakes made while leading large groups of people

I’ve always considered myself somewhat of a follower. Sure, I like to have my way and all that, but it’s always been so much easier to let other people do all the work for me, while I reap all the benefits. Yet in the past few weeks some strange things has happened:

a). I accidentally invited everyone I knew to come to stay at our little place in Florida for Spring Break ‘08…We’re up to 9 people right now, with one more trying to get a last minute ticket and another staying with a friend nearby. I have no doubt that the attendance would be somewhere around 25 if I hadn’t finally started saying no.

b). It’s been decided–mostly against my knowledge–that I am directing Twelfth Night for Shakespeare Society next semester. This has changed many of my well laid plans. Yet, this is all very exciting for me. I get $2,000 to buy totally sweet costumes and judge people. Woohoo!

In any case, the stress is thick. But whatever. That’s why God invented beaches and pools.

Ps. Extra double YAY for Christian. This was by far the most predictable and boring season ever, but at least the winner completely deserved it. For the record, I (like Posh Spice) would wear everything he sent down the runway.

In honor of my decision to start blogging regularly about interesting things (cats, movies, wine from Minnesota, etc), I’ve decided to never go to philosophy class again. It is killing my desire to live fully, replacing excitement with apathy and intelligence with bullshit theory.

In the area of blog layouts, I continue to have none.

Also, I’ve decided to never watch Project Runway again because this season totally sucks (as does Rami-okay not really, but seriously, we know you’re from Isreal; drop it). Chris4lyf, yo!

Im in yr blogz leavin youz bord: one year

I believe that today (roughly) marks the commencement of this particular blog, excluding any overlapping time with that disaster that is iWeb. I am proud to say that since then, I’ve finished yet another year of the bottomless pit known as schooling–only a few more years of undergrad, grad school, and then probably cosmetology school when I fail to be good at anything else. In that year I have also become significantly less reliable and significantly more catty (I don’t mean gossipy, since I had already reached my gossipy peak years ago….I mean, cat-ty…..as in cats everywhere).

But it is Valentines Day, or it was an hour and 20 minutes ago. Other than the fact that some loveless teachers assigned a paper and a test tomorrow, this has been the best V-Day ever. I’m fairly certain I ate more than my weight in expensive cheeses while watching Lost. I also got to cook in a real kitchen with real fire and real pots and pans. It was beautiful. Other than a few horribly disturbing occurences–which, if I were to discuss them, I would again vomit a bit in my throat–today was Sa-WEET.

So I really am going to work on posting more often and making it interesting. Last year, BU did this “Best Blog o’ BU” contest. I plan on winning this year’s. I also plan on changing my about me page to reflect my current lifestyle, which is apathy and sloth (Lost).

Living–

5 reasons to love BU Building and Grounds

5. If you break it, they will fix it. Eventually. It may have taken them a week after The Great Window Breaking of 2007, but they got the job done.

4. They don’t ask questions. Case in point, The Great Radiator Disaster of 2008…my bad, B & G….

3. They will clean your carpets for you, which I’ve never actually done, but am considering it after The Great Lasagna Catastrophe of 2008

2. A man named Joseph, who basically talked me down after The Great Radiator Disaster of 2008. I was flippin’, he was chillin’. Respect, yo.

1. They will come at any hour of the day. If you have a completely unreasonable problem at 4:30 in the morning, a la The Great Radiator Bleed of 2006-07, they will be there.

B & G, thank you being so much more understanding/awesome than the RA on call.

“One month”: mainstream media and social construct edition

I took a break from blogging (actually a break from life as I am like bear and able to hibernate for long periods of time to conserve energy) for Winter Break. But now that I return to Boston in two days, I thought an update might be in order. I’m sorry for slacking on my Project Runway recapping duties, among other things that I’ve neglected. But here as some angry thoughts on the Golden Globes.

First of all, I like this hour long format. I don’t need speeches and dance routines and drawn-out honors. I need the winners, the cold, hard facts. The press release format does quite a nice job–and it brings me joy to think of those rich network executives weeping into their espresso over the money they DIDN’T make putting on some big, elaborate production. But that’s really the only thing I liked.

I am mostly upset with how well Atonement did. Yes, it is a good movie, but it certainly isn’t great. If you’ve seen the end with the “writer” you’d probably agree with me. Best drama of the year? Oh god no. And for best comedy/musical? Sweeney Todd….I don’t even want to address how the HFPA practically creamed itself over this big-budget, Hollywood adaptation of yet another Broadway musical. Yet another remake by Hollywood and by Mr. Tim Burton. How original.

And for all the talk about how this was “Minnesota’s year” at the Golden Globes, I really didn’t see much representation. Juno got ignored, which makes sense because it wasn’t some huge Hollywood monstrosity. And No Country For Old Men is one of those movies that I think might have been too good to be recognized. The screenplay was flawless, the film itself stunningly beautiful. Unfortunately, it was just sort of weird, and if you’ve seen it, you know what I mean. It centers around sparseness and metaphor.

Quod erat demonstrandum: it can’t get credit where credit is due.

If you think I actually care about the Golden Globes, though, you would be wrong. The Golden Globes are the poor man’s Academy Awards, and are a poor judge of what good film actually is. Not that I would defend the Oscars in that regard either–the Oscars are a farce, but at least they give the decent overview of that years Americanized mainstream cinema. To really get at the best films of the year, you probably have to be your own judge.

In other television news, I have officially plunged headlong into Lost, the most intelligent show around (though you have to be willing to view it as such). January 31st cannot come fast enough.

I will return to my life soon, with much bitterness and even more procrastination (I have SimCity for Mac, TWO whole TV shows to follow, and a mini-helicopter that I plan on getting firmly stuck somewhere behind my bureau). Not to mention, Waitangi Day is coming up! It’s my favorite holiday of the year, celebrated (primarily by myself) as a nice excuse to have fun in the exceedingly drawn out days between Christmas and Spring Break. I suppose it probably represents much death and suffering and so forth, but I will take any excuse to make cupcakes, drink wine, and watch Proj-Run (oh yes, it’s on a Wednesday this year. HA!)

High Day! Shout Shout!

I, like most Minnesotans, have always tended to believe that it only snows two places in the world: Minnesota, and Antarctica (but still less often than in Minnesota). Tonight, I was proved wrong. I love watching people that aren’t used to snow slip and slide all over the street. I love watching cars try to get out of snow drifts. I love watching people fall down. I love when people take pictures of the snow because they never get to see it. I just love it. I love it, because I am what you call “snow-sperienced.” Granted a Minnesotan snow storm is sooooo much better than a Massachusetts snow storm, but it was still fun to see a bunch of college students making snow angels and falling all over themselves because they decided to indulge in a end-of-classes-Thirsty-Thursday. As I sit in my room writing papers, I am horribly jealous.

B-b-b-b-b-b-b-bandits. Rhythm.

As the minutes and hours and days pass since Wednesday night, I’ve grown increasingly more upset (and that’s a lot of upset) about Project Runway. So upset, in fact, that I created a new word to express what I’m feeling:

Desprojrundent (dis-proj-run-dent…insert your own backwards “e” and the like): adj. the increasing feeling of despair and sadness caused by or related to Season 4 of Project Runway. adv Desprojrundently; [syn: none]

You can have it for free, Oxford English Dictionary, for being the constant friend of the forlorn English major.

My despair relates primarily to the intense amount of work I haven’t yet done. Tuesday, none of you will see me. I will not be leaving my room. I will do like that astronaut and wear diapers.

A Christmas list is forthcoming because I know all of you want that. Content yourself in knowing it involves a lot of palm-sized helicopters and kittens.