July 17, 2008
Each manicured hand was a two-foot eel
Tonight, Michelle, James, Matthew and I crowded onto the couch and watched the season premiere of "Project Runway," hoping for a designer with [season two finalist] Santino Rice-caliber sass. Tonight's challenge involved making outfits from materials found at a grocery store; the winning design was a dress made out of bleach-spattered vacuum cleaner bags and burnt coffee filters.
I've decided it's too early in the season to start memorizing designers' names, but the girl who won had bleach blonde hair, red lipstick and a sleeved arm. I totally called that a male contestant would lose the first challenge, and sure enough a portly Asian man, who fashioned a shapeless raincoat out of like, toilet paper was sent home. Still, his raincoat wasn't nearly as awful as the dominatrix dress made entirely from garbage bags, for which the only appropriate accessory would be a dwarf on a leash. Ugh.
After "Project Runway," we walked to Mr. Wizard, where I'm quickly becoming a fixture, and I got a s'mores concrete, vanilla custard with marshmallow creme and graham cracker, and James tried to convince me that, despite what I've heard on "The O'Reilly Factor," my cellphone will not give me brain cancer. When we were full up on custard, we went back to my house to hang the 'Gorlok Grill' sign I pilfered from Webster. On it, the gorlok is decked out in an apron and chef's hat, holding a spatula in his paw and looking totally pissed. While we were nailing the sign into the wall, James tripped on a cord and tore my DSL filter clean out of its jack, but as you can tell from this here blog post, my Internet remained unscathed by his clumsiness.
P.S. In tenth grade, I wrote an essay titled "Why women play bass" (Read: Sean Yseult, Kim Gordon, Lorna Doom, Kira Roessler and Tina Weymouth to name a few), and now there's some serious scholarship being published on the subject.