You gotta be kidding me, right? Who would give this fucking blog an ‘R’ rating. Did they not read my archives? Did they not notice the many and permanent links to the Rude Pundit?

I’m offended. As Groucho Marx said, I wouldn’t want to be a member of a club that would accept me.

This is my second attempt at this recap, the first having been swallowed by the fucking aether. At least I thought of a better title this time. Allow me to first apologize for a lack of recap last week, but between the chest cold from hell and the massive doses of Theraflu (which shit rocks, by the way, and I can’t recommend it highly enough) to combat said chest cold, my notes are less than coherent. I think I can read this, though: who the hell dresses Jillian? Half the time she looks like Rosie the Riveter/Sassy Car Hop and the other half she’s wearing Mork’s suspenders. WTF? Elisa the gently bewildered finally got sent home, but before she did we were treated to the tale of her broken skull which may or may not go a long way toward explaining that whole airy-fairy thing she had going on. What it didn’t explain, and what I found unsettling, was why she felt the need to throw her mannequin on the floor and straddle it to sew. Every time. And though it pains me to say this, Christian was right about the silver sleevettes on that thing looking like those little inflatable thingies that you stick on very little children to keep them afloat when they are first learning to swim. Michael Kors was correct as well when he said that thy looked like shower caps. They looked like crap, and there’s no getting around that. So, on to this week.

Open: Interior Morning: The Boys’ Dorm

Christian is blow drying his hair with the exact technique and attention to detail one would expect. But what is this? Rami of the Heavenly Arms, dressed only in a towel? Swoon. Miz Shoes thanks the editors for that one. And over in the girls’ room, Victorya is bemoaning the loss of Elisa and telling us that the girls have been consolidated into one room. And with that, we are out the door and over to Parsons for the next challenge. Heidi tells the designers that they will be designing something for one of the most important days in a woman’s life. The dress she wears when the divorce from the first husband is final? The models come out, and we see a gaggle of school girls in school uniforms. This is a gaggle of Jersey girls, and they have each chosen a designer with whom they wish to work. In Heidi’s world, one of the most important days of a woman’s life is her senior prom. Of course it would be. She was probably the prom queen of Friedrich Nietzsche High.

Christian, predictably, is not thrilled with the idea of working with little girls, or of making a prom dress. He says “the other designers are all excited. But I think proms are tacky, horrible and gross.” Not that I particularly disagree with him, but (and it takes one to know one) those are the words of the high school social out cast. Scarred for life and still bitter. In what is a perfectly delightful bit of schadenfreude, the shortest, plumpest, and least attractive of the girls choses Christian. She is his doppleganger: abrasive, opinionated, rude and socially inept. The designers and teens will have half an hour together to discuss looks, then the designers will hie themselves to Mood with $250 dollars. The actual workroom time will be until midnight of this day, and all of the next. Tim reminds the designers that, as teenaged girls, they will have very strong opinions, and it is up to the designer to both rein it in and make it their own vision.

I Want It All

Sweet Pea’s girl wants a super low cut front and back, accentuating her booty. And she wants white. I have a horrible vison of J-Lo’s most memorable fashion don’t, that turquoise thing that was split in the front to her pubes, and held on with double-stick tape. In white. Christian’s girl, Maddy, immediately grabs the pencil out of his hand and begins to sketch. She coyly tells him that she, too, is a designer. He dies a little. She wants it all: brown, black and gold and lace and beading and flounces and more lace and down to here and up to there and satin. Kevin, who is straight, is also, it turns out, from Jersey, and we see his prom photo. It is very, very, Vinny Barbarino. I say that with all due respect. He tells us that being from Jersey, he remembers what goes on at those Catholic school proms, and assures his girl’s mother that he will be sewing a chastity belt into the garment. Nice. And? Jersey.

It is a quick flash of Mood, and then we are back in the work room, where Christian is telling us that he was the best dressed person at his prom. Chris, from off-camera, asks if that was his opinion, or did they take a vote. Christian says they voted, and then we see his prom picture. He was in a group, HAH! OUT CAST! And it looks like they took the photo last week, because he has the same hair and the same look of insufferable superiority that he’s wearing when the camera returns to him in the present.

Jillian is working with Tiffany blue something or other, and other aquas and pastel teals and saying that she wants to make a jewel box of a dress. Well, she has the Tiffany blue…Ricky reminisces about growing up poor with a mother who was a seamstress (did she sew his new blue jeans?) and, predictably, weeps. And wears one of his stupid little twee hats. Oh, little emo boy, don’t cry any more, or Miz Shoes will be forced to reach through the television screen and bitchslap both the tears and the stupid little twee hat right off your face. God. Get a fucking grip already, girl. Sweet Pea, on the other hand, is totally butching up and says that she is not going home because she listened to some 17-year old girl. Way to go, Pea. Miz Shoes has hopes that we will finally get to see the Bad Pea. Not butching up at all is Christian, who is just in tears over how tacky is the dress he is being asked to make. I can’t let a 17-year old over power me, he cries. Get real, sweetheart, my dog, JoJo of Very Little Brain could over power you. A powder puff could over power you. I’m amazed you don’t blow away every time you turn on your hairdryer. Jeez.

Commercials

We are treated to the worst commercial in Levi’s history, you know, the one where there is some random guy pulling his pants on in a barren loft, and when he tugs, the city comes up through the floor, and he sees a hottie in a phone booth, so he thinks about it and then yanks the pants up and then he and the hottie walk away? Yeah. That one. But this being Project Runway, the hottie in this version is another guy.OOOOH, gay commercials. So daring. So ho-hum. Then, to add insult to injury, we have to see the Neck of All Evil, Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo take us to the hottest clothing store in El Lay, which is actually the back room of some sneaker emporium. But he tells us that it’s just super secret and super cool. And it seems to have all of his super crap from his runway show. Oh, ho ho, Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo was making jokes. I think. Or the only place he can sell his crap is in the secret back room of a sneaker emporium. What evs.

Day Two: Mothers and Daughters and Tim

Victorya is not happy with her dress, she thinks that her girl has asked for a dress that is evocative of an Italian divorcee. How many times do we have to say this? Jersey girls. Anyway, Victorya isn’t having any of that, so she changes her silhouette to something a little more modern and youthful. And cobalt blue. Tim comes in and tells the designers that they are getting half an hour with their models for fittings and reality checks. And they brought their mothers. Kevin’s model’s mother is awfully skeptical about the baby doll dress he’s made: she thinks that it makes her daughter look pregnant. Victorya’s girl though, despite not getting what she wanted, thinks that it is exactly what she wanted. Chris is working with what looks to me like a pistachio green silk charmeuse, and it is wonderful and sleek, but still exciting and different. Chris’s girl and her mom are both in love with Chris’ portfolio of giant drag queen costumes. It’s really sweet, and they are totally shocked to learn that it is Chris in every one of the pictures. Are they blind? In any event, both mother and daughter love Chris and love the dress. And so do I. Sweet Pea didn’t cut as low as her girl wanted, and used what also looks like a champagne-colored satin charmeuse to do a beautiful halter dress that is cut very flat across the front, and beautifully full and draped in the back. Again, girl and mother are nuts for it.

In another moment of secret evil pleasure for me and everyone else in America, Christian’s model is not so happy. And the dress does not fit at all. Christian must not have been able to believe his tape measure, because there is a good 10-inch gap in the back of the dress, where it will never close. Maddy is very unhappy that Christian didn’t do all she wanted, until someone else compliments her at which point she allows as how she designed the dress her own self. Christian dies a little more, and Miz Shoes enjoys another shot of schadenfreude.

Over at the sewing machines, Sweet Pea is grimly determined to do well, since she was in the bottom two the prior week. Chris lets loose one of his enormous laughs and says HA! for the bottom two, Honey, I’ve been voted off. Much hilarity ensues. Miz Shoes thinks it might be getting late. Tim now arrives to give the designs a once over and impart those pearls of Tim Wisdom that we all live for. He is concerned with Kevin’s dress, and especially the hem. Kevin does not want to hem the bottom, despite Tim telling him that an unfinished hem is certain death on the runway. Tim is also concerned for Rami of the Heavenly Arms, who has done one of his signature toga thingies with a really dark and somewhat drab olive green. Tim thinks that the young girl will look like she’s wearing her mother’s dress. Rami pays no attention to Tim and says that look at what 18 year olds look like in El Lay. Miz Shoes (and Tim) say oh, please let’s not. Tim is concerned for the amount of work that Victorya still has to do on her dress, because she has a ton of giant chunky crystals that still need to be applied. Tim tells her to work. And then he gets to Christian, who is not feeling fierce. He is, says Tim, all gloom and doom. Christian doesn’t even want to try to fix his dress, he’s ready to go home, defeated by an obnoxious little girl. Tim gives him a splendid pep talk, which ends thusly: “Rally.” My god, that man is good. Rally, said in a sort of up-beat deadpan may replace my current favorite phrase: sack up, ho.

Interior: Night: Boys’ Dorm

Chris, exhibiting a touch of the old schadenfreude himself, opines that Christian might just be losing it. Christian then comes out in an enormous orange towel turban and tells everyone else that they’ll miss him when he’s gone. And there is some truth to that. And then it’s morning, and Christian is shaving. Really? He shaves? Rami tells us that he is from Jerusalem, and there is no prom there. I feel like there should be some sort of joke there, like… in Soviet Union, prom… I don’t know. Fill it in your selves.

Back at Parsons, Ricky is telling us that he made his girlfriend’s prom dress and that should have been a clue. I don’t know. Did he wear a stupid little twee hat and weep copiously while he sewed it? Sweet Pea is entertaining the girls by showing off her various tattoos and piercings, and telling them that she was a Catholic schoolgirl once herself, and that she is their future. This makes one of them happy and the other two a little scared. Or scarred. Then we see Pea in her prom photo with a California blonde surfer dude, and Pea fans herself and blushes as she says that she remembers her prom, but will not elaborate further. Kevin has not hemmed his dress and Christian and Maddy are still arguing as he sews the last bits in place and she rolls her eyes and trash talks him.

Finally we are at the runway with the usual suspects and guest judge Gilles Mendell. Sweet Pea’s dress is first and it is really beautiful. It is sewn well and fits like a glove. Her girl is just loving it. Victorya has made a cobalt blue bubble dress with some interest at the neck, where the crystals are centered. Chris’ green charmeuse is another beauty, with a complicated back that has v-straps and a cape-y/train-y thing happening. His girl walks like a moose, but rocking it. Kevin’s short halter is meh. Jillian’s dress does look like a jewel box, but shockingly, her bodice fits terribly. Christian’s dress is hot mess in many flavors. It doesn’t fit, it’s shorter in the back than in the front, and it makes his stumpy lumpy girl look stumpier and lumpier. Rami’s olive dress is clearly too grown up, and the length is awful: neither short nor long, but hits just below the knee.

And Our Loser Is…

Kit, Jillian and Chris are sent off the runway because their scores kept them safe. The best and worst are Kevin, Sweet Pea, Christian, Ricky, Victorya and Rami of the Heavenly Arms. Sweet Pea is asked about her direction from her girl, and she says that she wanted Hollywood glamor, and a sort of Grecian drape. The girl says that it was exactly what she wanted and she loveloveloves it. Michael says it was flattering and well done, but NinaGarcia thinks it might have been a little too sophisticated for 17. Kevin’s dress is shredded. The color is awful against her skin. The dress is matronly and not young. And of course, Michael Kors zeroes in on the unfinished hem and says it looks messy and cheap. And he has a point. Victorya’s dress gets raves from all. Michael says it’s chic and young, NinaGarcia loves the fun color and that it is modern and appropriate. Christian immediately whines that he had the hardest job because his girl was a demanding diva. Gilles and NinaGarcia are having none of that and shut him up fast and dress him down for blaming his model. Ricky’s dress is seen as cute (and I don’t know why, because all of his stuff has those stupid bubble hems) but he gets called out for poor execution. Heidi hates the color, saying it washes out his model (it does) and MK says that Ricky needed to turn the volume up on all of it: the color, the draping.

Rami pleads that his girl wanted something comfortable and different. Gilles says, yeah, maybe but it ain’t a prom dress. Nina says it’s too sophisticated for a teenager, and points that the length is all wrong (told you so). And Michael Kors says it looks like a 35-year old woman going out to dinner dress.

The judges have nothing but love for Sweet Pea and Victorya. Rami, they say, was designing for Rami. Christian blamed his client, and that sat very badly with the judges. Ricky was seen as yet another non-event. Close but no cigar, again, says Michael Kors. But it is Kevin who gets the worst analysis: NinaGarcia says that he showed poor taste. Victorya wins with a modern, age-appropriate mini, and Sweet Pea, Ricky and Rami get to stay. It is Kevin and Christian in the bottom two. Christian, despite his unforgivable sin of blaming his model for his own failure and his poor execution, is still good TV. He stays. Kevin, with his head to toe cheap and poorly constructed, goes. Still, he says, it wasn’t all that bad: he got a hug from Heidi Klum. I guess he really was straight.

Next week? Ricky cries.

Sometimes, my padawan learner, you just have to scratch the itch.

I bought the Nikon. I have been shooting tons of pictures. Oh, lord, how I have missed an SLR. Of course, this purchase was directly responsible for my only resolution of 2008: This is the year I rid myself of unwanted weight, be it body fat or excess possessions. I spent new year’s day listening to the Moody Blues and making Mild Burning Symptoms a live website. There’s nothing there but an “I’m plotting great things” note, but I am in fact, plotting great things.

I will be dumping possessions all year. Art supplies, ephemera, artwork. I have sworn not to buy any new supplies for the entire year. No new cloth, fiber, beads, books or magazines. I will trade off old supplies for new, but only if I end up with less volume in the process. Speaking of which, anybody out there interested in about 30 years of Gourmet back issues? I think I’m only missing 6 or 7 issues in all.

Being a Nice Jewish Girl, dishes which include ham hocks (collard greens, hoppin john) are not part of my repertoire in the kitchen. On the other hand, being a Nice Southern Girl, they should be. So I make broccoli rabe instead of collard greens, or I make mustard greens, or other bitter greens that can be well-made without ham parts. But for New Year’s a southerner just has to have hoppin john (that’s black eyed peas with ham and stuff) for a year of good luck. Fortunately for me, my worlds collide on this matter, because there is a traditional Sephardic dish for Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year) which contains, not ham hocks, but veal or lamb. It’s muy yummy. You have the time, and you have been told about its good luck bringing qualities, so make yourself a mess of this, and have a lovely new year.

Lubyeh (from Joan Nathan’s Jewish Cooking in America)

1 onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped

1/2 pound veal stew meat, cut into one-inch cubes

2 cups water

1 cup black eyed peas, soaked overnight in water

1 teaspoon salt or to taste

1/8 teaspoon pepper

1 teaspoon allspice

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

2 tablespoons tomato paste

1. In a heavy skillet with a cover, saute the onions and garlic lightly in the oil

2. Add the cubed veal and brown briefly. Add 1 1/2 cups of the water, cover and simmer slowly for 20 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, drain and simmer the black eyed peas in water to cover for 20 minutes. Drain and add the peas, salt, pepper, spices, tomato paste, and the remaining 1/2 cup water to the veal mixture. Cover and cook over low heat for 1 hour or until the peas and veal are tender. If the stew dries out, add a little more water. Serve warm.

Yield: 8 servings

Well, the fat dirty bastard may not have had a cell phone, but what ever was causing him to make those noises was apparently virulent and airborne, because I’ve been in bed with a stupid sinus infection for the past two days. Went to work on Wednesday and by the time I got home had a throat tickle, and sore lymph nodes and a headache and woke up the next morning with a full-blown sinus problem. Thank Dog for videos and hot toddies. Must go back to sleep.

Yesterday being Christmas, the RLA, the surrogate daughers, Star and I did the traditional thing for Jewish people: we went to a movie. Usually the traditional thing is Chinese food and a movie, but we broke tradition to grab a bite at a Cuban restaurant, and then went to see Sweeney Todd, which we were certain would be appropriate viewing for the holiday.

And it was a huge disappointment. Yes, Johnny sang. Yes, Helena was her usual brilliant self. Yes, nobody can play dark and oily evil like Alan Rickman (and I wish he’d do a little more comedy and maybe a light romance). And yes, Tim Burton is a genius and Johnny and Helena are his (identical) muses, and the sets were gloriously dark and the costumes ditto. Yes, yes, yes. Everything about the film was perfect, except the film. It was a snooze. Literally. The RLA fell asleep.

I can only think that the source material was poor, which means I must be the only person in the universe who thinks the play was lackluster and thin.

The most interesting part of the movie was the cast’s teeth. I don’t think a single actor or actress was sporting veneers or dental work. Everyone had crooked teeth. Perfect white chicklets have become so inescapable in Hollywood, that it was a notable thing to see. Now how sad is that, that the thing that impressed me above and beyond the magic of film making was crooked teeth.

Sitting next to me was a large man with a bad cold. He kept snorffling and making horrid noises. I finally asked him, loudly, if he’d care for a tissue. He said no. And stopped making those disgusting noises. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about his body odor. At least his cell phone didn’t ring.