My List Of Project Runway Contestants In Order Of Their Likelihood of Getting Eliminated Next Week Due To Cheating

1. Keith
2. Vincent
3. Jeffrey
4. Angela
5. Kayne
6. Bradley
7. Bonnie
8. Laura
9. Alison
10. Michael

11. Uli

12. Robert

I will be very surprised if anyone below number 4 ends up being the culprit. I guess we'll see.

The Devil Drinks Diet Coke and Plans Parties Now, Evidently

Having had a decently enjoyable time seeing The Devil Wears Prada, I decided to embark into the seamy world of chick-lit. Since the library was fresh out of Devil copies, I opted for Lauren Weisberger's recent sophomore release Everyone Worth Knowing, deciding that it would be fun and fluffy and perfect during the rare spots of downtime that occur in my high-pressure, overachieving, always-on-the-go life.

Everyone bears a lot of similarities to the movie version of Devil, with a young twentysomething post-grad in Manhattan dealing with a conflict between personal, kind of unfulfilling success and snarky coworkers versus friends and integrity. Now just substitute "trendy fashion mag" with "trendy PR firm". Our protagonist is Bette, a imperfect but likeable and relatable single banker who quits her job only to land, with the help of her gay socialite uncle, at the aforementioned trendy PR firm. She spends her days planning parties and contacting celebs and promoters and her nights doing business at Bungalow 8 and the like with her hot but mostly drug-addled and morally contemptible coworkers. Bette rapidly finds herself in the NYC gossip columns due to her persistent, but nonsexual, relations with British it-boy Philip Weston. Throw in the requisite disappointment from friends and family, plus a dashing love interest, and you've got a story.

I definitely got what I wanted, namely an entertaining ride full of interesting characters and unrealistic plot twists. Weisberger has received a large amount of criticism, for this book in particular, but I'm convinced that she can write a snappy and compelling story that, yes, ties up neatly at the end to an absurd level, but is still well worth the ride. The whole chicklit critical backlash seems kind of unfortunate, really, and I hope that some of the stigma associated with reading chick-lit has, at least, partially transferred to other sorts of books.

I'd recommend it though, and as cliched it sounds, it really is great for reading in an air conditioned coffee shop on a sunny summer day with some iced caffeine and a lemon bar or five. I don't really feel like I gained any insight into the PR world outside of what I could glean from a Samantha-centric episode of SATC, but I had a good time and I'm even more psyched now to live in NYC. Ah, some day.

FopOn

Kudos bars to Brian for sending me this well-researched review from Slate on the HeadOn ads. There is also a video of the ad in all its full-length, mind-assaulting glory.

Call me a lemming, but I am fully on this HeadOn bandwagon. The ad is just a beautiful thing. It's like what I always imagined commercials to be like in some sort of dystopian, Fahrenheit 451-ian, not-too-distant future. HeadOn is essentially opening the doors for other cold, repetitive ad campaigns to strip humanity of its rational thought. The way I see it, we're really not that far off from moving sidewalks and personal jetpacks and soma vacations.

Of course, despite my curiosity toward HeadOn, I have absolutely no interest in rubbing an herbal Push Pop on my forehead, directly or not. And five-plus dollars seems like an awful lot when you can just get some Excedrin for less and call it a day. If there is a way for the HeadOn people to brainwash me to the point where slathering up my forehead (directly) seems like a good idea, then they'd really be set. Perhaps a money-back guarantee that it'll make me as vacantly complacent as the model in the commercial. Until then, I'm holding onto my five dollars and my achy, unmoistened forehead.

The Freshmaker: Accessories, Adorabale Amys, and Animal Rights Activism

Fresh: Summer ascots
Fresh Last Week: Grecian sandals
Stale: Leopard-print sunglasses

Fresh: Amy Sedaris
FLW: Amy Poehler
Stale: Amy Adams

Fresh: Aiding animals in Lebanon
FLW: Committing to faux fur
Stale: Eschewing veal

We TAR The World

Evidently, the casting directors over at The Amazing Race heard my complaints about the lily-whiteness of the casts for the past couple of seasons, ones that often featured two to four people of color out of about twenty-two total racers. IGN has pictures and stats on the new TAR10 teams who look comparatively pretty diverse.

It seems that we have at least four teams that are ethnically non-white, plus a disabled racer, a pair of gays, and a freaking lesbian. Yeah that's right. A lesbian. Fortunately for the other racers, there's just one and she's on a team with her dad. She looks pretty femme, too, not that there's anything wrong with that of course. They clearly know that a team of two lesbians would finish the whole race in about a week, tops. Let's hope her and the gays represent. We got slammed last season in the first leg. And who was before that? Lynn and Alex? Bleeck. It seems like so long since we've had good gays. It makes one long for the halcyon days of Oswald, Danny, Ken, Andrew, and hell, even the Guidos. (But never Aaron and Arianne. NEVER.)

Save for the male models and the pageant winners, it looks like we have a suspiciously normal looking group of racers. My hopes are high. Don't disappoint me, Bruckheimer.

The Amazing Race 10 is sans airdate at the moment, but it will be on a new night and time: Sundays at 8 PM starting in the fall.

World Series of Fop Culture

This past Saturday while enduring the worst. Hangover. Ever. I happened across VH1's World Series of Pop Culture. I've been sort of meaning to watch it since its inception, but truthfully the format looked boring and almost reminiscent of an adult spelling bee. So, unsurprisingly, I was hooked after five minutes, rooting for certain teams and guessing along with the contestants.

The competition is a tournament format comprised of teams of three. Two teams enter each round, one gets to move on to the next round. The objective is to eliminate the other team's members by doing better than them in a one-on-one round of six open-ended questions. The team that does best out of five rounds and eliminates all of the opposition wins. The greatness of the show is really in its simplicity.

So how did I fare? Eh. Not as well as I'd hope. I was maybe getting 70% right at best, around 50% right at worst. Some of the categories I was easily able to run with (After Reality: Questions Pertaining to Reality Celebs After-show Career Moves), some I knew one or none of the six answers (Sports Movies), and some I thought I would rock but ended up suuucking (Game Shows?!? That should have been my best category. I honestly would have sworn on the lives of my nonexistent children that the final round of American Gladiators was always called The Gauntlet. Even the contestant said that. Not so. It's called the freaking Eliminator. [And of course James knew that.] I'm not bitter.)

Aside from the trivia, it's just fun to see the teams engage in popcult fisticuffs. You get the feeling that the cooler teams go out after the show and talk about their favorite episodes of The Facts of Life over a few pitchers. The coolest team by far is Almost Perfect Strangers. They're so cute! And they seem to know their stuff. Hopefully they'll go far.

If there are auditions going on at any point in the near future, I'm so there.

Einundzwanzig

ONEMONTH.ONEMONTH.ONEMONTH.

One.


More.


Month.


YES.




Any suggestions for the first legal boisson alcoolique?

Project RunYAY

The premiere is less than ten hours away. I caved and watched the casting special last night and I. Am. PSYCHED.

And a premature boo on you, Off-the-grid Ohio Angela.

Fop Rave: Sia

I am utterly in love with Sia's music video for the song "Sunday". It's hilarious and heartbreaking and completely suspended in this crazy dreamworld. I've loved her as Zero 7's go-to chanteuse, and she seems to be getting a lot of play since she was featured on Six Feet Under. Her solo stuff sounds amazing too--definitely on my to-purchase list along with the new, and evidently rather upbeat, Zero 7 album.

Watch the video. Funniest/saddest part is around 00:40 when the guy unexpectedly slaps her. I can't help but make a "biff!"sound every time I see it. The impromptu waxing looks pretty ouch, too.

Sia's "Sunday" via YouTube.

Emmys Eh-dendum

You know, I was thinking about how I feel so outside the realm of popular television. There are so many trendy shows that I have absolutely no interest in watching no matter how popular they are in my age cohort. Grey's Anatomy, House, Prison Break, The Sopranos, 24, The West Wing, the list goes on and on and on.

My working theory is that there is a combination of my inherent disinterest in the shows and the non-presence of such programs in my friends' television repertoires. And who am I mostly friends with? Queers and queer-friendly hets. Gay people don't watch these shows. At least the people I'm familiar with don't. The programs of my people are reality shows like Project Runway and America's Next Top Model.

[Aside story: At the club this past Friday, I was pulled over by some Random Gay who was trying to settle some Top Model related dispute with his friends. He said, "Excuse me, do you by any chance watch America's Next Top Model?" I didn't even give a verbal response, instead choosing to give him a downward look of "Girl, please." To his credit, he apologized, saying "Oh I'm sorry. Of course." See? One should just assume that a fellow gay is familiar with such things.]

Sure, we also have our Desperate Housewives, Six Feet Under, Sex and the City, and popular shows that have that wink-wink of gay interest. I don't know, maybe I'm totally off and I'm just trying to justify my pickiness when it comes to teevee, but it seems at least partially true. When I read gay blogs like Queerty, there are no interviews or stories related to Prison Break, but I can be damn sure to get the latest in all things Tim Gunn. I like having my own television niche, albeit a stereotypically dandified one, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Eh-mmys: An Unfocused Rant

The 2006 Emmy Awards...

...oh who cares?

Serial. I don't really have a lot of investment in the awards, being the only person I know who was born between the years of 1981 and 1989 who has never seen an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Ditto 24, Entourage, and House. And are we really still handing nominations out to Will & Grace and Malcolm in the Middle? I don't even know anyone who still watches those shows. Why not show some more Arrested Development love? I am, however, happy about the Desperate Houswives snubbaroo and the inclusion of Kathy Griffin the reality show category. (And the subsequent exclusion of the sinking ship known as The Apprentice.) The tagline of the whole Emmy broadcast should just be, "Hey, at least it's not the Grammys!"

More important: (Emmy nominated) Project Runway starts on Wednesday. Wee!

You Can't Spell "Bum Wine" Without "Numb"

I hate when you have an awkward run-in with someone akin to something you would see in an indie movie or a multi-camera sitcom. That's how I felt the other day. Sitting in one of my favorite cafés, a (presumably) homeless man came and sat at my table, and you know, I don't even like it when a not-totally-distant acquaintance does that. So he starts talking to me and I feel the pangs of lower-middle-class collegiate guilt when I don't have anything more than $0.23 to give him. He mumbles a lot, and there is a lot of silence and staring at each other. Finally when I make a motion to leave he breaks the silence, saying something about my mom and me being a punk. Then he slurs that "[he's] never hurt anyone before" and reaches inside his coat pocket. My heart rate goes up thricefold at this point, not knowing what sharpened or possibly blunt objet trouvé he plans to beat my punky self with. I see a glimmer of light, and he pulls out...



Oh, Mad Dog. I wish this was the first time I was afraid of you. And to the guy's (non?)credit, he actually was in posession of the green colored variety of Mad Dog, whose actual flavor escapes me. (Kiwi? Wasabi?) The green colored MD is by far the worst tasting. The best would have to be Blue, which even has the "Bling Bling" design on the front of the bottle for added class.

Mad Dog. I was introduced to MD last summer after previously sticking to the high road of bum wines known as Boone's Farm. The appeal of MD to me was in its doubled amount of alcohol and myriad of colors. The downside comes when one actually drinks the stuff. Whew. Yeech. But I could stomach the stuff for a good blitzing, especially when it involves putting on plastic jewelry or yelling expletives at Stacy London while having a What Not To Wear pre-party.

As of late, however, MD has been difficult to enjoy. One memorable experience came late last semester when I thought it would be fun to enjoy my Thursday night solitude by watching Food Network and sipping a styrofoam cup of red-flavored MD. Well, considering I only had eight-ounce cups, refills happened often. And then the drunk Facebooking started. And then I think I managed to roll under my futon. And then it was 9:45 A.M. and I was dry-heaving while washing my face and prepping for a fun, sober day of classes.

A few weeks ago I gave it another shot, foolishly picking up the green flavor. I was able to drink to, oh, where the neck of the bottle stops and traded it in for a vodka-and-Squirt.

The point of all this is...I don't know. I would like to see Mad Dog take a leap forward in our cultural zeitgeist. For all of the tears and joy and tears of joy it has brought me, I think more people should be aware of its magic. Thank you, Mad Dog 20/20. It's been a bumpy road, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

(But I would trade you for another vodka-and-Squirt.)

Submitted For Your Approval

Typically when I'm flipping through teevee channels on a Sunday afternoon I don't expect any sort of exciting programs to grab my attention. However, I did get a little jolt of happiness this weekend when I noticed something in black-and-white being broadcast on Sci-Fi Network. Because that can only mean one thing, folks: The Twilight Zone. And not only that, but because of the 4th of July holiday it means it's time for the semi-annual TZ marathon. (The other being at New Year's. Seriously, I don' t remember a New Year's when I didn't pre-party by watching TZ until like 9:00 PM.)

ANYway, I get excited by this semi-annually because I? Loves me some Twilight Zone. I could watch them over and over again, and that includes the replayed-to-death episodes like Talking Tina and the one with Endora fighting off the little astronauts. And of course there's the best episode ever, namely the one with evil little psychic Will Robinson wishing his family into the cornfield. SO trippy. ("That was a good thing you did, wasn't it now.") And I totally have a dorky crush on Rod Serling, his Bert-inspiring unibrow notwithstanding.

Sure like half of the episodes are crap. I have a hard time watching a lot of the historical ones, especially if the Civil War is involved. Or any of the too preachy ones, or the ones that are too child-centric. And sometimes I wonder how they even dragged out the episode for a mere twenty-two minutes. "Stopover in a Quiet Town" comes to mind as combining don't-drink-and-drive preachiness with a concept that stretches for all of six minutes. ("Gee, I bet it's a dollhouse. Oh look, I'm right.")

But most of the time The Twilight Zone holds up, even after forty or fifty years. Yeah they're predictable most of the time, but this was the first time a lot of these stories were told. Plus, you have to give the show credit for being successful and culturally relevant despite no consistent cast of actors. The show serves its purpose of creating entertaining adaptations of short stories and screenplays. It's meant to be brief, suspenseful, and memorable. Hey, and if The Simpsons parodies something for no less than five episodes, it has to be something worthwhile.