Today’s new definition is for the word chickenshit. I found this new definition while watching Project Runway earlier this evening.
The new definition is: Flying a contestant all the way to Paris at a moment’s notice only to inform her only moments after arrival that she lost the last challenge and that she now has to turn around and get right back on a plane.
Supposedly, the final decision wasn’t made until they got to Paris because the judge needed to see how the clothes traveled. Bullshit.
The least they could have done was give her a couple days in Paris on their dime. Bastards.
Also, Angela was the one who lost the competition. I would be okay with the loss except for two little things:
1. Vincent is still there. He’s a crazy man whose taste is simultaneously all in his mouth and still living in the past. He needs to go.
2. Angela’s loss provided Jeffrey with way too much joy. He’s such a mealy mouthed little prick. If I wanted anyone to go before Vincent, it would be Jeffrey. I actually like most of his clothes alright, though. If Tim Gunn would just pop him in the mouth, maybe he wouldn’t be able to talk and I wouldn’t have to spew profanities at the television (did you HEAR the way he talked to and about Angela’s mother??).
All that having been said, I am pulling strongly for Michael to win. He’s not only extremely talented, he’s just a good guy. He doesn’t have to put others down to feel better about himself and he has taste to die for. You name me another person who could have made pink hot pants look like high fashion and I will give you a cookie (or something that rhymes with cookie) (wink, nudge).