How was your day, Dan?

ROCKIN' THE SUBURBS--PROJECT RUNWAY EPISODE 4

My angry-white-guy, Rockin' The Suburbs brother just can't get enough! Read below.

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ROCKIN' THE SUB--oh, wait, not so much.

...my little brother is disappointed.

I don't want to write about Project Runway this week. That challenge was stupid. I think they are running out of ideas. Each person chooses from a selection of 12 out-dated ugly styles then they are put into groups of three. They are responsible for combining all three different looks into three different outfits that are cohesive together as if they were to be used in the same fashion show. Translation: Mix three different styles that are so ugly, no one wants to wear them anymore. And when they come out still ugly we will yell at you. And everyone's volunteering to be group leader, like they don't know the group leaders always get sent packing. Duh, watch the fucking show. The leaders are Christian, Chris, Ricky, and Jillian. Ricky has Victorya and Elisa on his team and Ricky and Victorya don't get along. Victorya tries to act as leader and Ricky isn't down with that. They blame each other for everything. And then Elisa is holding up her dress, it's better than Victorya's and Ricky's craptasticness, and she's like Who made this? This is nice! I should try making a dress like this and they are like You made it, it's yours and she's like No shit? I am bad-ass. Wait til I tell my friends back on my home planet. She's going to be in the final three I bet.

ROCKIN' THE SUBURBS: EPISODE 3

This recap took a while. My angry-white-guy, rockin-the-suburbs brother and I had much to discuss. Click the extended post to read the recap.

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ROCKIN' THE SUBURBS

First of all: the winning dress from this week? It goes on sale today. Do you want to buy a $19 dress? I dunno about that. But maybe it's cute when you see it in person.

Second: I couldn't watch Project Runway this week, and none of my friends could watch it since none of us have cable (what is wrong with us?) so I asked my white-guy-in-the-suburbs younger brother to watch it for me and tell me what happened. And this time, I actually did ask him.

His response is below.

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Rockin' The Suburbs

Thank God for my little brother! Living out in the suburbs of the Midwest, just being angry and listening to his Eminem and raging against the establishment. And watching cable TV.

He wrote a Project Runway recap below.

Runwaymania

Okay, I'm back with it. Project Runway has won me over again. I would give anything to be a contestant.

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I want to be Laura. I want to wear suits every day for no other reason than to mock soccer-moms and assert my own superiority. I want to lament about the trials and tribulations of raising five children, even though I obviously employ the assistance of nannies, whom I terrorize and occasionally reduce to tears. I want to trim everything I wear with real fur made from dead animals, yet regard adorable household pets as vermin not to be touched. I want to pick fights with "shitheads" just for kicks.

I want to be Michael. I want to talk about designing dresses as if I am talking smack on a basketball court. I want to congratulate myself constantly and repeatedly acknowledge my own talents, yet somehow still be likeable and get away with it. I want to be Laura's temporarily-adopted son, so she will stick up for me and yell at shitheads when they won't let me use the sewing machine. I want to constantly surprise the hell out of everyone by repeatedly demonstrating the fact that I can, in fact, actually sew.

I want to be Jeffrey. I want to refer to my fellow designers' work as "macaroni art." I want to be the driving force who brings back the hand-buzzer. In case the fashion design thing doesn't work out, I want to always be dressed appropriately for an impromptu job as a roadie for OzFest.

I want to be Uli. I want to be the person who will most likely win the entire thing.

I want to be Vincent. I want to never be lonely, because the voices in my head will keep me company. I want to fall into fits of gleeful laughter at the sight of hats. I want to scream everything I say. Oh wait, I already do.

Project Runway: Rockin' The Suburbs, Baby

Do I make you randy?

Here we go--if you're just joining us, my angry-white-guy, rockin'-the-suburbs brother has graciously agreed to recap Project Runway, from his point of view. If you who missed the season premiere, read below.

And there are, what, 15 people in the cast this year? There's a lot to discuss. The recap is long. Go along for the ride.

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Farewell, Runway.

For the past several weeks my friends have come over to my house on Wednesday nights, to partake in Project Runway glory together. The first Wednesday night, I was slightly self-conscious of exposing my infatuation with what is the gayest show on television. I didn't know them well; we just met out somewhere, and got on the subject of the show by accident. I didn't want to scare them away by queening out about the show; this was a male-bonding thing. We were dudes. (Dudes watching a reality show about fashion designers.) Watching the show together was gay enough, we needed to keep control.

"You want a beer?" I asked the first night. I kept my hands down to my side. No limp wrists.

"Yeah, that'd be cool, thanks."

Two of us sat on the couch, at opposite ends; everyone else was in chairs. We watched the show, said it was "cool," and were done. Male bonding.

Weeks went by, and we were always on our best behavior. We sat and watched the show, laying all the way back on the couch with our legs propped up on the coffee table, like dudes. We drank beer, we ate chips, the whole thing. By the end of each show I was exhausted.

A few weeks ago, one of the Dudes called and said he was on his way over for our weekly bonding ritual, and asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I told him, if he wanted, maybe he could pick up some beer?

He paused. "Or do you, y'know...want something from Starbucks?"

"I'd kill for a grande carmel frappucino."

"Whipped cream?"

"Of course."

And, deep sigh of relief.

Now we all pile onto the couch and the floor around it. Not a single additional beer has been consumed in my house since that fateful day. We have, however, gone through a bottle of tequila playing drinking games, taking a shot every time we see the Orbitz commercial with the women trimming the hedges. ("I need a good deal to Cancun?") For some reason, they play that commercial endlessly on Wednesday nights. And we're infatuated with it. We act it out. Over and over, down to the facial expressions.

We throw things at the TV when Santino says something stupid, we laugh at Daniel V's arrogance, we shreik when Zulema acts like Zulema. We make plans to take a trip down to Houston to check out Chloe's shop so we can try on all her clothes and take pictures of each other. And they're women's clothes, we know, but that's sorta the point.

Next show: The Sopranos, Sundays. And that show is really butch, so we can be REALLY gay and not feel bad about it.

Project Runway February 15

The re-cap is here. My angry-white-guy, rockin-the-suburbs brother strikes again. Enjoy.

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Damn, it's weird when there are only a few people left, y'know? Because they have to fill up an hour with them doing all sorts of crazy shit, they don't just sew anymore. So there's all this twists and turns bullshit in the show.

So last week they had to give each other makeovers, right? And Chloe won, she made Nick a pink vest. Too bad her clothes didn’t make Nick look so good that the judges didn’t notice the fucked-up suit he made for Daniel V, because Nick got cut. Although I thought the suit that Nick made was alright.

The Project Runway recap is coming. It will be posted later today. My little brother got kicked in the face while at cheerleading practice and it's hard to type with ice on his face.

Please tune in later. Until then, please examine the following picture and create a caption. The best caption receives a prize.

UPDATE: Here it is--the recap is done. Voila'.