So I’m supposed to have regained any respect for this season of Project Runway because – ten episodes in – they finally got rid of CryCry McWeepington?? PLEASE. Methinks not, friend. In case you’ve forgotten – what with the virtual obscurity of talent or competition, you may have just disregarded the show this season – here’s what Ricky looks like (and I only deign to use his given name once):
It’s not pretty. Couple that with his ridiculous “hats” and his generally perplexing assumption of being a designer and you have what has entirely drained this season of viability. I don’t even need to name all of the people who were auf’d before him. One word. Spartan. (Note: this renaming is done out of affection and deliciosity. Not out of scorn and the disgust-induced inability to shape my mouth in the form of Teary McSobberson’s true moniker.) My dear sweet Short-Stack was not only overlooked on the Tiki Barber episode he should have walked away with but then slapped in the face with a closed fist wrapped in barbed wire and doused in salt and hot sauce by being kicked off before Leaky McWails-a-lot. Did we not choose him due to a freakin’ pin? PLEASE. You think too highly of yourself, Judge Panel. It was laughable. Speaking of chuckledom: the way people keep getting irritated by Queenie’s “arrogance”. What you’re sensing is his well-deserved shock-turned-occasionally-beligerent-disdain at being overlooked on almost all of the challenges. Just because you couldn’t find people to match his skill and speed doesn’t mean you should give away challenge wins based on “best overall improvement”! Rami and Jillian deserve to go to BP with him but let’s not make the ridiculous insinuation that anyone matches his ability to perform for every challenge, more often than not having a fabulous concept long before they even get back to the work room to sketch. He can be as bitchy as he wants – doesn’t have to be but can; he’s stuck in a fickled freakshow wherein he could be kicked off at any time just to salvage ratings! I’d be edgy, too! Chris wins? Right. Just like the Hershey’s challenge. PLEASE. He’s. It.
Onward and upward, people. Time to end by speaking about my Ezzie-con-Tezzie. I know the neighbor has dropped hints seb-uh-ral times about the fact that they’re moving at the end of this quarter. I understand that since then she’s dropped by twice and I’ve still never seen the inside of their place. I understand it’s possible that she could find my blog and read this. Probably for the best. Here’s the thing. I am perfectly content with being my child’s 24hr companion and his having no regular playmates. 1) He’s not the child who needs constant stimulation; he’s quite self-sufficient. 2) He very obviously shares my and Josh’s disdain for ill-behaved/parented kids. We don’t really do playdates. And that’s basically the fault of all the other parents we’ve ever met. Firstly, if you could see the rugrats running about this complex (put hippie-dippy postgrad-aged parents on a campus together and then add innocent children to the equation… you do the math)…. I hate the term ankle-biters but, dag… Then there’s the one who finds his way into our apartment if the door’s open for any reason. Who then picks up as many toys as possible, plays deaf to his mother who takes the opportunity to strike up a drawling, uninteresting conversation while I watch her son with a look that would make Ezra recoil and immediately stop whatever he were doing. I can’t. Stand it. What the hell is wrong with parents? Your kids can act however you let them but not in my house and not around my son. So sorry. No play-dates. I was all jazzed to move here thinking I’d get Ezzie into a routine with other kids but then remembered why we like keeping him away from daycare so much. Duh. And, no, we’re not worried that this will somehow stifle his personality. Please. People come up with the dumbest crap to excuse not discipling or watching their own kids. When he gets with his cousin, he goes to town. But there’s never really been any other child he’s wanted to play with. By which I mean, he lives next door to this kid and has never asked to see him. He asks to see his cousin at least once a day. He actually told me the neighbor boy had to go home while I was suddenly babysitting him a while back. When I told Ezzie (in my most apologetic shrugging voice) that he couldn’t go home, Ezzie answered: He needs to. Funny. Very funny. I totally understood. The kid kept taking Ezra’s things out of his hands and seemed to need to hold at least three toys at once and “show Ezra how” to use his own trike. By pushing Ezra off. Which is where I draw the line. I was hoping she’d hear me having to repeat myself and raise my voice and come get her kid. Funny how it took a while. Ew, I am tired of talking about lame-behind parents.