First of all, let me ask you all why the hell nobody told me about Project Runway. Most of the people in my life like me and want me to be as happy as possible, so why is it that this show has been on for five seasons and I'm just now experiencing its scrumptiousness? I mean. I wear tank tops and blue jeans every day of the week, but that's just because it's not practical to wear this to Publix:
It's perfect for me, other than that. There are even holes on the side for my love handles. And I'm pretty sure that's a chastity lock down there in front of her bajingo. I can finally give my doctor the final answer about what kind of birth control we'll be using. (Dr. Bajingo is incredibly pushy on this subject. Apparently having your second child puts you in the category of "reckless sex maniac prone to accidental procreation" and necessitates endless prattling and probing about your plans for safer sex. As if.
So back to Project Runway. I had to cancel my DVR series recording of Bones so that I'd have room for my newest guilty pleasure obsession with PR. I can call it PR because I watched three episodes today and we're already friends like that. There's so much to be loved about that show that I don't feel guilty about getting pleasure out of watching it at all. Especially lovely is the quaint gay silver fox guy whose name I didn't catch because I was too busy jogging in place and cursing Heidi Klum to notice. But he sure did win the gay-off between he and that boy Christian.
It's Friday. I might crack a beer and celebrate my new friendship. Lucky for me my husband is addicted to downloading shows off the internet. I have like...five seasons to watch before numero six starts. Eek.
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On a side note: does post-a-day in September honor the Labor Day holiday? I have a birthday party to go to, a housewarming bbq, and relatives visiting. This weekend's posts will be short and sassy.
Happy Weekend
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