As Google gains ground on its efforts towards total world domination, it's affront to Facebook dominance via OpenSocial, is an interesting way of opening the social networking landscape.
While I fight the not-so-good fight against acknowledging my various social network accounts (thus plunging my paltry social circle further down a well) and struggle with half assed attempts at social modernization (will someone twitter with my tumblr please?) here are some mildly amusing, albeit educationally instructional OpenSocial vids:
Is it just me or does Spencer look so not 19?
Something about Dan makes me think he must watch "Revenge of the Nerds" the same way asshole jocks watch "Rocky" except instead of crying into their beers on their La-Z-Boys, he's getting blown while playing "Rock Band" on a pile of Google money. God bless you Dan.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Is it sad that I find this more inspired than this recent snooze of a season?
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
I've sprained my wrist in fights, lifting weights, and other idiotic male dominated activities (sans skateboarding; crazy white people), but while using a 'romantic technique' on a lady friend?
There is a God, and He hates me very,very much.
Monday, March 24, 2008
...MUSIC VIDEOS INSPIRED BY POLITICIANS!
YouTube can be a source for many things including a daily rant by an emo/goth/preppy teenager with aspirations of greatness, a filmmaker in training showcasing the type of stuff formally reserved for parents' shelves, and any other random piece of shit that comes to someone's mind. With the election going on we've seen a surge of viral videos featuring, commenting on, and parodying the candidates.
Music videos seem to be the most common simply because a) they're probably loads of fun to make and b) they are easily the most liked within the YouTube community. No one wants to view a three minute spiel about how much you love Obama but everyone will gladly watch a scantily clad girl profess her love of Obama through the art of song and stripping.
And the response, a Fall Out Boy copy speaking out on his love of Mrs.Clinton:
John McCain has his supporters too. He doesn't have as many music videos as the Democrats but the one I found far makes up for any lack in numbers:
While searching for these simple videos I came across a few oddities that must be shared:
Apparently the "Two Girls One Cup" phenomenon made it to the Presidential debate and someone thought that this was a great idea.
A Hillary song that aims to be a Bond trailer.
An honest to God "Hillary, We love you. Be our president and carry our child that is America," type of love video.
A MadTV skit that has our Democrats makin' love and taking names.
Another love-fest for Obama and Clinton.
Ah... let's make the theme song to the "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" about John McCain. Oh you guys... cracking me up everytime.
Tell yo mama, baby.
Yeah, so the bulk of the support videos are of people supporting Obama...
...and then we have the select few who try their hand at Hillary support music videos and they come off like this last one.
Though we do have perfect gems such as the following:
Maybe I'm not looking hard enough for McCain videos but I must say if I have to look harder than simply typing "::insert politicians name here:: support video" into YouTube's search engine something is wrong. What's up McCain supporters? Can't be as creative as the Obama crowd? I mean look at the stunning works of art they managed to throw up onto YouTube. At least the McCain supporters are doing it out of pure love and devotion to their man. That raining McCain video is nothing short of a project made out of the deepest of loves.
I guess I'll be able to enjoy these political gems for some time since this Presidential race started a million years ago and will continue for another million years. When does this shit end already?
My travels through the video jungle that is YouTube has left me drained. I can only hope to recover within the next few weeks. I must be well for the Guam caucus on May 3rd.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
For run of the mill bad Catholics who are tired of trolling through Missed Connections for their shameful amusement, here's a fun way to confess your sins, or at least enjoy in the sinful anonymity.
Feeling guilty about enjoying other people's guilt never felt so good.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Nothing like relaxing on a park bench on a cool March day, reading a good book, sipping some herbal tea from the Farmer's Market and taking in the sun, the scenery, and the odd juxtapositions that make living New York grand. (Yes, I said grand in that 'isn't it grand?' kind of way)
Anti-war rallies are obviously not far from the norm for NYU dominated Union Square, but it's always nice to see people proactive and motivated about a cause instead of the prevailing indifference of apathetic people like myself, too self absorbed, self defeated, or straight up selfish to do anything. (Outside of watching political rally art house films of course)
Kudos to the family of four adorned in "No Blood For Oil!" gear (5 year-olds in "Buck Fush" shirts are the cutest) and to my favorite sign carried by a hobbled woman who may or may not have been slightly under the influence, with the words "One Nation Under GODzilla." (I'm not sure if she was trying something avant-meta or just straight up crazy, but kudos still.)
As the massive throng of anti-war protesters dispersed from Union Square North, another large collective of very young and slightly old formed towards the front of Union Square South, in anticipation of the third annual International Pillow Fight Day, a global effort to take out aggression on your fellow man via feather and foam.
-The Union Square park gardener approached pillow enthusiasts suspiciously: "Those aren't feather pillows, right? Cause last year was awful; we couldn't get those feathers out for months- in the trees, in the bushes, everywhere. Those better not be feather pillows."(Official Event Press Release: "This event is more fun with feathers!") Eyes narrowed, she storms off disgruntled, like a cross between post prison Martha Stewart and Groundskeeper Willie.
-Urging participants to "not hit people with glasses, cameras, and especially people without pillows" is heeded...until the 10 year-old gut checks a Braveheart wannabe leading the pillow brigade. Parents nearby help their children by using their keys to slice open the pillow for easier access to the feathers.
-Five minutes later: I see Groundskeeper Martha covered head-to-toe in feathers. I can't exactly hear what she's saying, but the vein popping on her forehead and the fearful looks on the nearby Avril Lavigne look-alikes' faces tells me it can't be good.
-A waif-ish, middle aged incense seller approaches a pair of Pillow Fighting Ninjas (complete with ninja garb and mini pillow nunchuks) with a tiny, maternal tone: "Can I ask you gentleman something? What do you get out of this? Don't you think this misuse of physical aggression only amplifies our violent tendencies? Can't you have fun peacefully?" Someone cracks her in the back with a ThunderCats pillowcase. Order is restored.
Sans a pillow and recovering from my eighth unprovoked pillow punch, I struggle to maneuver through the claustrophobic pillow free-for-all and run smack into...a small march campaigning for the election of faux Gotham City District Attorney Harvey Dent (who looks conspicuously like Aaron Eckart)? God bless viral marketing.
A war protester dressed in military regalia covered in fake blood and a plastic shrapnel wound joins the feathery fray. A hot dog enthusiast notes that "if the Boston Massacre had been fought with pillows with instead of guns, maybe there would never be any blood shed." Someone definitely has the munchies.
Later that evening: With a pea coat covered in feathers, and a lady friend less than enthused to see her man looking like a hen house attendant on a night that was supposed to be romantic, yours truly comes home disheveled, disoriented, and in dire need of a lint roller.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Filling the void of last year's disappointing "Third Hand" by my beloved RJD2, has been Clutchy Hopkins, whose slew of underground releases, work with the enigmatic MF Doom, and all around secretive viral marketing mystique has been a welcome presence in a somewhat stagnant year. Whether Hopkins is one man or merely a pet project composed of various underground heads is a complete MacGuffin; as long as it results in more work like "Walking Backwards," I'll willingly stomach more aimless debate over his identity.
Clutchy Hopkins meets Mickey Mouse's "Steamboat Willie." Yum.
Swedish is the new black. And pretentious indie music heads have been a buzz over Peter Bjorn and John collaborator Lykke Li: cute, young purveyor of all things catchy, Swedish and pop-like. Of course we'll all be forced to shun her and publicly admonish her once "Little Bit" is featured in a new Apple ad, driving us to enjoy her within the privacy of our strategically mislabeled iPod playlist (I still like you Yael Naim ;).
Till then, let's enjoy.
Anyone that knows me, barely knows me, or had the misfortune of spending an evening/dating me during my formative teenage years knows I love the Roots. LOVE the Roots. But as the years progress, and the releases accumulate, the notion of the Roots breaking through into the mainstream is seemingly a lost cause. Sure, the hardcore fans may say they want their beloved Legendary Crew from Philly to make it big, but like that first love who said they loved you for who you were instead of how you looked for fear of losing you once you realized you were way too fucking hot to stay with them, they would just as well be happy if the Roots never graced the Top 40 ever again.
Not like the Roots haven't tried- for every "Seed 2.0" there was a misunderstood "Don't Say Nothin'"; for making the jump from a label that didn't appreciate their non-mainstream sound to major hip hop label Def Jam who would finally give them the big budget pub they desperately needed, they churn out "Game Theory," arguably their angriest and least accessible album.
Now comes "Rising Down" their 2nd Def Jam release, and lo and behold: another attempt at a pop friendly single. "Birthday Girl" features Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump, cause obviously, if FOB fans could love Gym Class Heroes they should definitely love the Roots, right? Right? (Sigh...)
Here's a cute fan vid of "Birthday Girl" (Obvious an FOB fan who probably thought working with Gym Class Heroes gave FOB street cred), enjoy:
Sometime during my shameless Top 40 period (the Wallflowers, Spice Girls, any soundtrack featuring Billy Corgan, Puff Daddy, or both) I went through a trip-hop phase, cause it seemed like a perfectly logical syllogism:
A: Hip hop is cool
+ B: British things are badass
= C: British trip hop must be fucking badass cool.
While my collection of Morcheeba and Sneaker Pimps albums haven't necessarily stood the test of time, Portishead's work has consistently delighted me and provided the perfect soundtrack for the gradual death of my youthful optimism.
From their forthcoming album "Third," here's the simple, yet anticipation anxiety inducing video for "Machine Gun" :
Okay, I know most people remember him for being responsible for the creation of the abhorrent genre title "neo-soul" (and possibly the inexplicable popularity of man-whore Maxwell) or for having the gall (or balls?) to have a video dedicated to his personal trainer's fine work while being suggestively fellated onscreen, but he's also responsible for two of the finest genuine soul albums to be released in the past twenty years: the much heralded "Brown Sugar" and the greatly underrated wonder that is "Voodoo."
I don't normally make a point of showing my love for D'Angelo publicly (damn that video) but in my deserted island top five, "Voodoo" is definitively my number one. It's the only album I can honestly say I listen to at least once a month since I've owned it (way back in 2000) and just continues to connect with me in ways I never fathomed.
That being said, D'Angelo's fall from grace has been a quick and abrupt one (obesity, drug use, car accidents not withstanding) and his guest appearances have been sporadically few and far between but there's part of me that will always hope he returns with a glimmer of the soulful essence "Voodoo" has brought me.
From his possibly forthcoming release "James River," a demo single "Really Love" :
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Let me get this out of the way without trying to sound snide, contrived, or with even a smidgeon of smirk that casually permeates the happy-go-lucky sarcasm of my day to day life:
I hate people
It's not a new idiom, ideology, or revolutionary statement I've put out there; I know that. Misanthropy is an occasional source of amusement for some, a debilitating illness for others, a passing phase for cliche driven rebellious teenage pseudo-outcasts; it seems to full under the umbrella of infinite incarnations.
Yet for me, like many others, it's a belief system.
I hate people.
I don't hate them because of specific aesthetic, cultural, or institutional distinctions, I hate them because of their proclivity to disappoint...over and over and over again. I'm not a nihilist, an atheist, or hell, even a realist. But my capacity for hope, for idealism, and for fully realized potential in people is dead and gone.
Don't get me wrong- I don't think all people are essentially evil or lost at the core, on the contrary, I think most people are honest to good people that merely fall victim to their own self-imposed limitations. We don't care about politics, societal change, and the world at large not because we're self absorbed assholes (at least not all of us) but because we've systematically learned and grown accustomed to apathy. It's not like riding a bike; self motivation is something that needs to be bought into and consistently believed in for any possibility for long standing change.
I'm the last person to ever even come close to being open to the possibility of optimism, of genuine change within humanity at large...but goddamn it, I don't think anyone should take it away from anyone that is.
By no means am I even remotely close to being an ardent Obama supporter, or a supporter of any political individual or denomination, but if he is guillotined via guilt by association, let this be a remnant of his relatively short legacy to further fuel the fires of cynics and optimists yet to be born:
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Bad accents can hinder the dramatic intensity of a film, or merely make it funnier than it should be. Some trailers that made me laugh unintentionally this past weekend:
At first glance, I thought maybe Demi Moore was playing an American who just happened to have developed a slight British accent while living in the UK. I was wrong. I'm not sure if the producers of "Flawless" thought making Moore look older (beyond her forty-something plasticity) would compensate for her terrible accent, but someone definitely needed a little Zellwegger/Paltrow 101.
I feel for Ryan Philippe, I really do. But his over the top 'twang makes Nebraska native Larry the Cable Guy look like pro.
An American playing an Australian playing an African American? Yes Robert Downey Jr., this is why I love you so. (I know this is supposed to be intentionally funny, but my undying adoration of all things RDJ make me incapable of not including him.) And Ben Stiller and Jack Black in a big budget film that actually looks interesting, if not halfway decent?
Like many music heads are prone do, I've done my fair share of bitching about beloved songs/artists "selling out" in seemingly unrelated advertising campaigns. But artistic integrity don't put food on the table, and I completely empathize, but... Saul Williams?
As far as commercially viable songs go, a song about reparations is the last thing that'll make me want to buy sweatshop sneakers. And it's definitely quite a surprise to find the all encompassing socially conscious poet/activist/artiste Saul Williams (who recently made his Reznor produced album free) schilling for the "evil empire." Unlike other indie artists struggling to break through, Williams has held firm to his underground mindset. Until now...much to the chagrin of his fans.
What's next, Dead Prez's "Police State" in an NYPD recruitment ad?
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Some will fall. Some will fly. And some will go, "eh?"
David Gordon Green's adaptation of Stewart O'Nan's "Snow Angels" is a disjointed mess of muddled narratives and character development. Billed as a film "dealing with the loss of innocence in a small town," it's a poor man's "Ice Storm" sans convincing character arcs, palatable melodrama, or any semblance of the aforementioned 'innocence.'
With Sam Rockwell, (a surprisingly effective) Kate Beckinsale, Michael Angarano, Amy Sedaris, Olivia Thirlby, and Nicky Katt in the cast, it was discouraging to find such capable actors be reduced to such overly simplistic material.
For Rockwell fans, it's business as usual: here Rockwell's emotionally unstable husband plays foil to Beckinsale's immoral wife- a seemingly unseemly battle of the wills to see who can be more self absorbed. Caught in the crossfire of this dysfunctional union is their adorable little daughter, who more or less is treated like a narrative chew toy, at times accentuating Rockwell & Beckinsale's parental humanity; at others merely a disposable annoyance.
Therein lies the film's fatal flaw: it's inability to genuinely make its characters earn their emotional journeys while still keeping us locked in.
Supposedly the novel's original emphasis was placed on the character of Arthur (well played by youngin Michael Angarano) and his loss of innocence growing up and dealing with the local drama of his former babysitter (played by Beckinsale). Which would make sense...if Green's direction didn't attempt to make a single narrative into a multi-pronged monster of misshapen multiplicity.
Whereas Ang Lee masterfully weaved the respective experiences of the children and adults coming of age in the "Ice Storm," here Green's effort feels forced, if not altogether confused. Illuminating the burgeoning romance between Angarano and (whip-smart though thankfully not annoying "Juno" BFF) Thirlby would have been effective if contrasted with the disintegration of Arthur's parents and the dysfunction of Rockwell and Beckinsale. Instead, the teenage romance is treated like an afterthought, just as Arthur's parent's separation is treated like a crappily written Lifetime Movie of the Week.
Which brings us to Rockwell and Beckinsale. I love Sam Rockwell for the same reason most people love Rockwell- he defines the word kooky. Whether it's cruising around the galaxy, masquerading as a game show host/CIA agent, or just being plain crazy- Rockwell is fucking glorious.
Yet in "Angels," his performance seems like a waste, playing the sympathetic, albeit insufferably insecure/suicidal husband whose sole existence appears dependent on the affection of his equally immature and self absorbed wife. His narrative journey is one not defined by progression or regression, but of jutting, swift descents into psychosis that make him over the top, if not cartoon-like. Green's resolution for Rockwell is more like a cop-out than a natural motion, using religiosity as a scapegoat for something that could have been better structured.
Speaking of structure- Beckinsale's admirable dramatic turn is also wasted in Green's inability to discern the direction of Annie's character. She's flirtatious with Arthur, skeevy with Nicky Katt (who always does skeevy well), condescendingly sympathetic towards Rockwell, and maddeningly nonchalant towards her daughter. It would be easy to blame to Beckinsale's unproven chops ("Serendipity"; "Underworld") for the unevenness of the character, but almost no actress could overcome the shortcomings of a deeply flawed script.
"Angels" does have it's successful flourishes, such as the refreshing sweetness of Angarano and Thirbly, Nicky Katt's man-whore comic relief, or the Rockwell's oneness with Last Call.
In the end, "Snow Angels" is a film supposedly about a loss of innocence, yet it drowns in its immaturity, sloppily building up to a climax that is amazingly mundane and disappointingly predictable. Unlike a snowman erected on the first day of fresh snow, "Snow Angels" is the depressing three days after the snowfall snowman made by the deadbeat weekend dad-not enough ice, with too much dirt and unstable yellow snow.
Friday, March 14, 2008
It's only been one week since the season finale of this year's ProRun but you're feeling a bit low and are in need of something to take your mind off of the void ProRun has left in your life. I'm a sad, pathetic shell of a person but I still have found time to branch out and live a life that isn't completely dependent on ProRun. I will now present to you three things I have been dabbling in to pass the time until ProRun starts up again.
1) I've been throwing myself back into finding tolerable music to listen to. I work in a music mega-chain and there is a tendency to get so familiar with just plain old crappy music that you completely forget about anything good in the world. The soundtrack of your life becomes infused with the Justin Timberlakes, Britney Spears, and Ciaras of the world instead of maintaining a semi-obscure indie cred that you've been known to fawn over. Whenever I find myself listening to more J.Holiday than Broken Social Scene I tend to look overseas for my music in hopes of finding something spectacular to call my own even if for only a few months while its still unavailable domestically.
Estelle is apparently a well respected hip hop-ish artist in England. I may be the only one who had no idea about this. I stumbled upon her "American Boy" single awhile back and fell head over heels for it. Yeah, it features the unimaginable ass that is Kanye West but it's something that can be overlooked by the catchiness of the song. I'm a big fan of overly poppy-hip hop infused soul music. I'm huge fan of Kelis and all of that mess. I'm a fan of this song.
Duffy aka Aimee Duffy is a welsh artist who was on the Welsh version of "Pop Idol" which is the precursor to "American Idol." She came in second. I guess I could have taken that as a sign of shit going bad but I heard her song "Mercy" (which unfortunately for my love of obscure imports is an Itunes free single this week) and went crazy for it. "Mercy" has an old school sing-a-long vibe to it, with all of its 'yeah, yeah, yeah's and such. I've been fortunate enough to have a co-worker who is love with british female singers and burned me a copy of her album. Some compare her sound to Dusty Springfield and others in that vein of music. Her voice can get annoying at times but overall I think its a nice ride through nostalgic easy going pop music.
Adele may be my favorite of the three simply because of two things. The first has to do with her music. It's pop soul at its finest. Her voice has a smooth yet at points scratchy, dark tone to it and she found a perfect way to display that unique instrument within her album. She's been touted as the "new" Amy Winehouse, something which I'm not positive is a good thing. Overseas she's been garnering buzz before she even released her album, 19. The second reason she's my favorite is because she's a bigger sized lady. Girlie is a size 14/16 and I love it! It's a very rare thing to see a bigger person in pop and I think its very refreshing. Not only does she have an infectious sound but she's normal sized. Please make this a sign of things to come... Lead the way Adele!!
2) I recently was given the glorious gift of 2 at a time unlimited subscription to Netflix.
I've watched some movies I wanted to see, some movies my boyfriend wanted see, and movies that I would NEVER pay actual money to own. In reality all of the movies on my queue are old foreign films, silent movies, and pretentious art movies/documentaries. That being said my free ride recently ended and I found myself upgrading to three movies at a time unlimited each month. My last three netflix picks are as follows:
"Zoo," the documentary about horse fucking. No, but seriously this movie is about one man, Kenneth Pinyan, who died after engaging in intercourse with a horse and those who surrounded him at the time of his death. It was shot in a way that was frustrating because its mostly darkened shots of people sitting around while someone talks vaguely about what actually happened. The cut scenes between the actual vocal parts are darkly lit and very boring. Overall I would've liked to have more blunt facts than three to four people vaguely discussing how a man loves his horse... alot.
"Silk" is just another Keira Knightley costume drama. I LOVE Keira Knightley costume dramas but hate Keira Knightley as a personality and in anything other than costume dramas. A friend of mine recently observed just how many costume dramas the girl has done and believe me that she is far better known as a character in one of her period pieces than she is for "Domino." The story is about Michael Pitt pretending to be French and smuggling silkworms. During his smuggling stays in Japan he falls for a concubine while his pretty little wife, Keira Knightley speaking with an odd American accent, waits at home for him to return. I got about halfway through the dvd before it skipped. I might love it if I give it another shot. It seems like the romantic crap that I usually go for.
"Dragon Wars" was a boyfriend pick. A friend from work told us about how absolutely horrible it was and we just had to see it. Considering the last two were my picks I decided to give in and move this piece of movieland crap to front of the queue. I wasn't actually paying attention to the movie. Instead I was surfing the internet in search of new blogs to read and clothes to buy. The only things I got out of the movie was that it starred Jason Behr of "Roswell" fame looking for a girl named Sarah who would be turning 20 soon, it had crazy ninjas who were all dressed very similar, making it extremely hard to make out who was bad or good, and that there was a dragon. Now why didn't this thing get all those fancy awards I'm not sure...
3) My final attempt at regaining normalcy in my life post ProRun is to drink... alot. I have a friend coming back to NYC for a week and during that week I plan on getting completely wasted every night. I'll end up doing absurd shit like volunteering to go back to Oklahoma with him or throwing up on someone I don't like. I can't wait for the fucking amazing time I'll have with my buddy. That being said here are three beers that I drink in no particular order:
When I order a pint of Guinness around friends that haven't gone out drinking with me they always look at me like I'm a fucking man. I'm a girl who has developed a love of Guinness and there is NOTHING wrong with that. It's a good drink. I'm quite fond of it. Even more proof that it's awesome comes from this advertisement during WWII:
Stella Artois is a Belgium beer. It's lighter in flavor than my beloved Guinness but then again most things I drink are. You may have seen the obnoxiously arty ads in your local indie film theater. I mean... they play them in New York's indie film theaters so I can only assume...
And finally let me just put this out there, I will drink whatever sludge you throw in front of me as long as you're drinking it too. In the end, its all about having fun and getting wasted without spending a fortune. That is where the PBR's of the world come in to fill our alcohol hungry bellies and make us feel like absolute shit in the morning. Drinking any one of these beers will most likely result in what former friends referred to as the "beer shits." I've never been as hungover as I have been after a night of excessively drinking really crappy beer. It's cheap and ready for consumption though and thats all that really matters.
So I hope my lazy attempt at encouraging you to look outside the ProRun box has been enlightening and mind expanding but if it hasn't I'll just leave you with this:
Jillian was just jealous of his fabulosity. Bitch needs to step down and accept the fact that she is not ferosh... at all.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
My people keep on making me proud...of not being proud of them.
Monday, March 10, 2008
When I was a kid I used to watch "Good Day NY" till my mother's admiration of Joan Lunden made my home a "Good Morning America" household. These are New York journalists being New York journalists at their finest:
Friday, March 7, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
NYU students will be graduating at Yankee Stadium, much to the chagrin of Mets/Red Sox NYU fans.
Now let's see them try stripping in the Bronx. (Sidenote: My Ram could totally kick your Bobcat's ass.)
If this manages to get on basic cable television, there is a god.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
It's over! And I'm too sick to make an actual recap of it.
I will try to cover the big details like who won, certain things Christian said or did, and all things Posh.
It starts with the designers talking and Jillian asking if her hair looked nice. Then Timmy boy came by to look at the updated collections of the final three. He loved Jillian's collection with the exception of a striped top. He loved Rami's collection. And he had concerns over Christian's over design.
Christian was feeling the pressure of being the youngest within a group of talented seasoned designers. Poor baby wasn't getting any Tim love either. It just breaks the heart.
Then they had a model casting. They all wanted skinny, fierce models and Jillian was lost in her confused world. Having never did a model casting before, Jillian voiced her concerns over knowing nothing about this stuff and Christian made a snippy comment about how that's her own shit and she should just deal with it.
Collier Strong made an appearance and said some things about makeup and strong eyebrows.
They fit their models and Christian's model's bitched about the shoes he picked out for the collection. They should just shut their mouths. They are models, dammit. You're getting paid to walk in fancy clothes. Just be quiet.
Jillian couldn't get new models after she messed up her model choices. She freaked out and Rami basically told her to shut up and suck it up.
After all the fittings Tim had one last gather round and got a bit emotional but not as emotional as he did in previous seasons.
Day of the final runway show and all the designers pick up their shit and walk around Bryant Park in the earliest of mornings.
One hour to runway and we get some sightings of previous contestants. A bit of Andrae Gonzalo, Laura Bennett, and ...that blonde kid from season two. A little bit after that we get a brief glimpse of a goddess, POSH!!!
Heidi comes out and says her bitty spiel about not being able to wait for the show and then introduces the judges: Hot Bitch Nina Garcia, Mr. Fancy Pants himself Michael Kors, and Diva Posh Spice aka Victoria Beckham.
Jillian says a stupid little thing about inspiration and I have a nagging doubt that she'll be the winner. She'll pull a Chloe Dao and take it over someone younger and more talented. Bitch. Her designs were young and flirty and set to a sort of jazzy downtempo piece. Her favorite piece to make, that damn jacket, was once again in full force. She got a half assed audience clap for one of her pieces and that was that.
Rami's bald head makes its appearance and Posh smiles a bit. They show Eliza and her mini-me daughter and Rami, once again, refuses to acknowledge his hot man piece of a boyfriend. Hot came his draped, voluminous designs. He got audience claps on his last three pieces which all happened to be huge dresses. Yes, his collection was pretty but I hate him and want him to lose.
Christian came out to the biggest applause and told the audience they looked FIERCE! His first piece got some audience love and while the world is enjoying his collection, Christian muses on how much he loves the Posh and how much his clothes were a part of him. A grand total of six of his pieces were loved by the audience. Posh freaked the fuck out on his last piece because that shit was gorgeously feathered. Nice to see previous ProRunners applauding baby boy's efforts.
Judging room and I spaced a bit while Heidi was going through the prizes yet again.
Jillian went off into tangent about the last challenge and how it was very inspiring. Ever the bitch, Nina made a comment that didn't go with all the judges' praise.
Christian exuded nervous energy. And took in all the judges' praise and looked like a small boy in a big world. Judges made comments about how it was stuck in black and Kors said He LOVED the last look. Awesome... totally awesome.
Rami stood like a pompous asshole. Nina poured her love over him while the rest of them commented on his weaving style and "Brady Bunch" colors.
Things We Learned About Our Designers And Ourselves This Week:
Rami said Jillian worries too much! He said it annoys him. Oh Em Gee... priceless.
Despite a little bit of annoyance I think those two roomed together. I called that, oh you know it.
"Ugggghhhhhhlllllyyyy." That's how I would describe Jillian's main model.
These bitches hug it out way too much for my liking.
Christian has a sister who is equally as fierce as him. They look alike.
Posh on Jillian: Good Attention to Detail, Very Feminine.
Posh on Rami: Lovely, ...Attention to detail.
Posh on Christian: Loved EVERYTHING, Called him MAHJAH. Made him smile and said thank you when he said he would design something for her.
Judging room and I spaced a bit while Heidi was going through the prizes yet again.
Christian wins the Fan Vote about who should win.
Oh crap! No upset by Jillian this round. Awesome, clears the way for a Rami and Christian showdown.
OH MY GOD!!!!! CHRISTIAN WON!!!!! ENDEARINGLY CRYING FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE!!! I FUCKING LOVE IT!!!!
Heidi said UBER FIERCE!
Victoria Beckham told him she would be honored to wear any piece of his clothing. Oh My... everyone started crying and the judges and even POSH started tearing up.
Tim walked out with open arms proclaiming his pride for Christian. As soon as he won his confidence came back up and it's fabulous!!!