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Broject Runway: The ship is sinking, we’re swimming for our lives, and there’s a tsunami coming

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This week we had another reshuffling of the teams. The twist of the team shuffling for this go around was the judges got to choose them. Based on my rankings from last week, the teams chosen were basically even. Apparently I’m a terrible ranker, because as the episode wore on, we realized the teams weren’t very even.

Our elite eight where whisked off to a local theater and treated to a show. Out came a modern version of the Village People and that leads us to our challenge and challengers:

The Challenge:

Design three looks for the stage show Thunder from Down Under. One of them has to be a suit and they all have to be tear-away. Also, they have to fit the linebacker sized dancers, be light and airy so’s they can use their shitty dance moves. Oh Yeah. You’ve got one day suckas. I.E….THE PERFECT STORM.

The Challengers:

Team Shades of Grey: Stanley3000, Patricia the Hutt, Punk Michelle, and Daniel, Texas Cape-Wearer

Designed: A grey tartan skirt for a shirt and pant combo, a suit for Vince McMahon, and a modern update on the classic peeping tom look.

Michelle got off on the wrong foot by questioning Stanley’s stagnant idea for a Men’s Wearhouse theme. Turns out, she was right on the money. Stanley immediately cast aside Michelle’s brilliant idea for a stripping bike messenger and questioned her choices. Open the pod bay doors, Stanley. Even super computers have bad days.

This team worked relatively well together. They played to their strengths. Stanley cut patterns. Michelle did something punky. Daniel minced around falling in love with various inanimate objects. Patricia wove another 3rd grade art project. In what could have been the worst runway show ever, they avoided implosion. But make no mistake, it was a final round 2-over to win a PGA tournament. Avoid the traps, the water, the rough, and 2 putt every hole. Well played. Golf clap.

If we had to pick a Shades MVP, it would probably be Michelle. She designed the only remotely interesting piece (the tartan top) of the week. Also she mentioned her husband 100 times in the course of a 90 minute show. We got it. You’re married.

Team Slick and Hip: Undead Amanda, Full Metal Jacket Dick, “Everything is Tacky” Layana, and … plain old normal Samantha

Designed: A shirt and tie combo for Frankenstein, what Charlie Sheen wore to that fancy dinner in “Major League”, and a suit that looked as if had been washed on hot and dried in a dryer.

Holy Shit. This team. Dick Hallmarq is spiraling out of control. He’s gone from the teammate comfort of Stanley’s Steel Embrace to Dastardly Daniel’s Chubby Rodeo Pal to this week: Designing Women. While determining which direction to go with their line, the ladies had to tame the bald bedazzler. Maybe his opulent eastern European style (Gold!) could have helped their woefully bland offering.

Dick decided early on he wasn’t going to enjoy himself with his harem and spent the day grinning through clenched buttocks. Was anybody fooled by Dick’s feigned enthusiasm? No. Well, maybe Dick was. He sure thought he was playing the role of a great team member, even though he pouted for the entire episode.

Once on the runway, the four members of this rag tag operation laughed their way through their three embarrassments that paraded down the catwalk. The Kluminator proceeded to rip our contestants a new ass-a-hole for the worst runway performance of all time.

RANT TIME.

If they didn’t want to have garbage walk down the runway then they shouldn’t have made the contestants attempt an impossible challenge. This entire episode was garbage. A perfectly good waste of lovely Emmy Rossum. I’ve watched every episode this show has ever run and I can’t remember one that I was more bored with. For Christ’s sake, the only people who could have saved this show would have been the judges. Throw in some decent one liners or laugh with the contestants a bit and it would have made this episode infinitely more digestible. Instead we got the disappointed dad routine. Lame. I think you all know who could have saved this show. He who must not be named. Pour a little off. 1

END RANT.

The slick hipsters then were asked who should go home. Amanda was thrown under the bus. Again. When the question was posed back to Amanda the Mechanic, she pulled Dick under the wheels with her. Later Layana lamented (in a whiny dolphin voice) that all Dick was good for was an excuse. To which Dick made up a three part excuse. This did not go well for anyone involved. At least their clothes tore away. Right? Right? RIGHT?

The Winna!

Nobody.

Pack your sewing kit…

Amanda – We all saw this coming, even Amanda. She designed two pairs of tear away pants that were small enough for Webster. It’s a shame because she is the last remaining contestant that isn’t crazy in one way or another. I’ve grown to love her. Normal, intelligent, funny, occasionally good at design (this is a design show after all). I’m going to miss her. With Amanda’s departure I’m left with Robots, Dandies, Shaman, and Shit Talkers.

First Tu, now Amanda. These are the times that try men’s souls.

Final Note:

Be careful what you wish for.

I love a good disaster. Over the years there have been various calamities that have been sent down the runway. Half nude models wearing saran wrap. Color explosions in the palate of children’s barf. There was that egg thing a few years ago.

I think I need to amend my mantra from “I love a good disaster” to “I love an over-thought well tailored disaster.” It was no fun tonight when the designers knew that their shit was poop. The truly enjoyable moments involve a designer that has no idea that the cameltoe-inducing silver hotpants they’ve designed are tragic.

Junk is just junk.

Power Rankings:

Patrick Swayze

1) Stanley

Magic Mikes

2) Layana

3) Michelle

4) Samantha

The Full Monties

5) Daniel

6) Dick Hallmarq

Chris Farley

7) Patricia

 

Notes:

  1. Kors
Um, let's see, I don't know, maybe about six feet tall and two hundred pounds? I've been doing theater and improv in Chicago for a while now. Like fifteen years or so. O, yeah, I have a full day, day job for insurance and monetary purposes (no more half days with a big nap in the afternoon). I work as a project manager for a metal manufacturing plant. Huh? O, ah, two kids a wife. Yeah, they're great. I mean, not all the time great, like Brady Bunch shit, but no one has burned the house down yet. So, yeah, I guess that's it. I didn't get the job, did I?

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