I’ve received three angry e-mails alerting me to my lack of ProRun commentary. You’re right. I’ve been slacking. I’ve got sidetracked by that diva, Newsom. Like good ProRunners, Mikey and I ran home from dinner on Wednesday just in time for the glorious Project Runway finale, and what a finale it was.
Obviously, they had to let Tattoo-neck show his collection, allowing his army of sweatshop workers to complete the last finishing touches on his admittedly fabulous offering. His accuser and my personal hero, Laura Bennett, was awkwardly gracious before running off to contact a private investigator. If I know my Laura, this shit isn’t over.
I loved seeing everyone’s family attending, although I think Mikey was far more excited about a brief Alison Kelly sighting, screaming, “Oh my god! Alison!”
She can’t hear you through the television, Michael.
Uli, it would seem, has a gentleman friend, who I’m pretty sure is essentially Deiter from Sprockets.
Snaggletooth had about 57 family members in attendance, including Moesha whose sole purpose was to provide a hint of heterosexuality. I love Snaggletooth and even though his collection "Street Safari" looked like stripper rejects pulled from a dumpster in East Oakland, he should at least win the congeniality contest.
But really, the whole point of Project Runway is to hear Tim Gunn repeat the words, “Saturn Sky” over and over again, managing to sound gayer and gayer with each episode. I’m getting close to falling in love with Tim and his fitted little suits, planning dinner parties in our flawlessly appointed Greenwich Village loft filled with colorful modern art and charming floral arrangements.
Neck tattoo and his smack habit won the whole shebang, including the Saturn Sky. I have to admit, his collection deserved it. I wonder if he’ll sink off to oblivion with the rest of the ProRun winners and let the real star shine.
The real star?
Hello? Malan Breton from Taiwan, of course…