PROJECT NOWAY AM I DOING THAT AGAIN
PROJECT NOWAY AM I DOING THAT AGAIN
Kaz is obsessed with Project Runway.
So much so, that she has revived the group television watching that dominated the social activity in our last year of law school. (There’s an awesome picture of like eight of us gathered around the glowing light of the television watching the Season Four Buffy Finale at 2 a.m. Wednesday, because our administration was inconsiderate enough to have graduation on a Tuesday.)
I wanted to make it out to the viewing a few weeks ago. Kaz was holding the viewing at Chez F-train and since I’d never been to his house, I thought it would be particularly amusing to go for the first time while he was away in L.A.
I planned to make a whole pad full of yellow sticky notes that said “Dawn was here,” and affix them everywhere.
Hmm…come to think of it, I can’t imagine why he’s never invited me over.
Anyhoo.
Life interfered and I couldn’t make it.
But since I have a parking garage in my new building, and I drive everywhere now, I made the trek to Off-whiteyville to see the second to last episode of Project Runway.
Now, I don’t watch Project Runway — actually, I don’t really watch any reality tv, now that I think of it, the Apprentice is much more of a dramedy.
However, it was TV, with the possibility of Kaz baked goods, how bad could it be?
Turns out…pretty bad.
Firstly, I didn’t recall that F-train had a cat until I was climbing the stairs to his second floor apartment.
And then, I saw the cat everywhere.
Someone answered the door, I jumped.
Kaz’s friend introduced herself.
I jumped.
F-train said: “what are you doing here?”
“I was invited!”
“Not by me.”
“Yeah, I know,” then I jumped.
Finally, the beast appeared from one of the bedrooms.
“aww, come here Buddy,” F-train said picking the thing up and bringing it to the kitchen.
Kaz had a batch full of chili boiling on the stove.
I looked around and saw the pot cover lying in the sink.
OK.
If that thing makes any sudden moves, I determined I would have enough time to trap it in the chili pot with the cover.
That’ll teach it to try to eat my face.
I was a little early for the show, so when Kaz declared a “cooking disaster,” time of death due to chipotle overdose called at 9:45, there was plenty of time to order a pizza.
In the meantime, a couple of other people had arrived bearing snacks.
“Jim” brought a vastly inferior bastard Oreo substance called “Fudge Mint Oreos,” which supposedly tasted like the girl Scout Thin Mints, but with the Oreo inside.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
I visually sized them up and found them wanting.
“I’m an oreo purist. I am opposed to any attempt to make the cookies golden or the inside chocolate. They are chocolate cookies with a vanilla center.”
Sheesh, if I learned anything from being taunted by the neighborhood kids all through high school because I went to a predominately white prep school, it’s that.
I think there was some begging and pleading for me to put the debate on my blog and elicit comments, so feel free to write “Dawn is absolutely right about that Oreo thing” in the comment section.*
Finally, it was time to watch the show.
I don’t know, but the phrase “blah blah blah blah” comes to mind when trying to recall the episode. Some guy made a dress, some other guy liked it, some other guy made a skirt and then that other guy was like “you need details” and then the other guy was like “let’s go shopping!” And then there was this girl who made clothes that looked like the Ghostbusters Stay Puft marshmallow monster, but it was gold. And then the first guy said it looked like she made it out of a couch. Oh, and then, that guy called blogs “shitty.”
I was ready to fight, but F-train pointed out that since I had never written about Project Runway, he probably wasn’t referring to my blog…but wait, now that I have blogged about it…I’m going to kick Santino’s ass.
A few minutes in, the pizza guy came and Kaz got up to answer the door. I grabbed the remote and said “hey, should I pause it?”
“You can’t pause it. I don’t have one of those things,” F-train interjected.
What is he talking about? Who doesn’t have “one of those things”? I looked at the remote and searched for the pause button.
Huh.
Look at that.
No pause button.
I turned the remote over.
Nope. Nothing but the battery cover here.
I flipped it over again.
“Dude. What the hell? You do know you live in AMERICA.”
“Hey, I just got cable a few weeks ago when Kaz moved in.”
Good gravy. I wondered if he had air conditioning for the summer or indoor plumbing.
But back to the show.
About forty minutes in, they brought back the previously fired designers and the final three had to pick one of each of them to help design one final outfit and then they started firing lasers at Heidi Klum, until the rebel forces took control of the ship and C3PO managed to…ooops…sorry, that just happens when I’m bored out of my mind.
At some point during the episode I tried to get F-train to play chess with me, but claiming that it “would be anti-social” (read:who’s a scared little girl? Not Dawn), he declined.
I sat there amusing myself with ideas for how to make Project Runway watchable (a sudden death match in a cage, obstacle courses on the runway, a ring of fire) when I looked down and noticed my glass was empty.
Kaz had put the water pitcher on the far end of the table, so I didn’t want to reach over the girl on the couch or interrupt her show watching, so I did what any other reasonable adult would do.
I tried telepathy.
“Pass me the water pitcher,” I thought over and over while staring at the back of Kaz’s head and rubbing my temples.
“Passssss meeeeee theeeee waaaaatttteeeerrrrrrr…”
“Kaaaazzzzz, Looookk aaaaatttttt meeeeeeeee.”
“Waaaaaatttteeeeerrrr tooooo Daaaaaaawwwwnnnnn.”
“What are you doing?”
My concentration broken, I turned to see F-train watching me.
“Ummm….trying to get Kaz to pass me the water.”
Duh, what does it look like I’m doing?
“Why don’t you just ask her?”
“The show’s on.”
“I’m sure she will take the two seconds to pass you the pitcher.”
“My way is better….it’s just not working.”
F-train shook his head and possibly rolled his eyes. When he looked away, I whispered in my quietest little whisper voice:
“Hey, Kaz, can you pass the water?”
When she handed me the pitcher, I triumphantly turned to F-train.
“HA! See?”
“You asked her for it!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I heard you.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said laughing.
“You know, Dawn, one thing I’ll say for you, you are easily amused. It’s one of your selling points.
Huh…”one of”? Am I being sold? Who is selling me? What am I going for?**
When the show was finally over and Bravo tried to trick us into watching a repeat of a prior episode — I stood up to go.
No one else moved.
“Oh…sorry, is there some post-show discussion or something?”
My faux pas resulted in my being thrown out into the cold night, which, I guess was ok, because in the absense of the chili, that cat was starting to look a little hungry.
*All other comments about the Oreo will be deleted and you will be banned.
** Please email me immediately if you notice any ads on ebay for an easily amused african-american new york lawyer.
December 31st, 1969 at 7:00 pm
Well, yes, but they’re still ‘posed to be chocolate cookie, vanilla center.
March 3rd, 2006 at 6:26 pm
Dude, you hate Oreos.
March 3rd, 2006 at 6:26 pm
Dude, you hate Oreos.
March 3rd, 2006 at 6:26 pm
Dude, you hate Oreos.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:03 pm
Well, yes, but they’re still ‘posed to be chocolate cookie, vanilla center.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:03 pm
Well, yes, but they’re still ‘posed to be chocolate cookie, vanilla center.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:15 pm
Indoor plumbing, yes.
Air conditioning, no.
You are so not invited back.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:15 pm
Indoor plumbing, yes.
Air conditioning, no.
You are so not invited back.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:15 pm
Indoor plumbing, yes.
Air conditioning, no.
You are so not invited back.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:19 pm
i can’t wait to see you next week!
heh heh
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:19 pm
i can’t wait to see you next week!
heh heh
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:19 pm
i can’t wait to see you next week!
heh heh
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:34 pm
I TOTALLY agree with your oreo comment. I can’t even do Double Stuff. It’s original or nothing.
(Although I must confess the low-fat version ain’t bad.)
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:34 pm
I TOTALLY agree with your oreo comment. I can’t even do Double Stuff. It’s original or nothing.
(Although I must confess the low-fat version ain’t bad.)
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:34 pm
I TOTALLY agree with your oreo comment. I can’t even do Double Stuff. It’s original or nothing.
(Although I must confess the low-fat version ain’t bad.)
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:57 pm
If your chili is too spicy, you can put a peeled raw potato in it. Will soak up the too spicyness.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:57 pm
If your chili is too spicy, you can put a peeled raw potato in it. Will soak up the too spicyness.
March 3rd, 2006 at 7:57 pm
If your chili is too spicy, you can put a peeled raw potato in it. Will soak up the too spicyness.
March 3rd, 2006 at 10:29 pm
HA! Kaz will let me in and I will yellow sticky EVERYTHING! Even your horrible cat named “Buddy”! In fact, I will sticky the cat with a note that says “Buddy!”
March 3rd, 2006 at 10:29 pm
HA! Kaz will let me in and I will yellow sticky EVERYTHING! Even your horrible cat named “Buddy”! In fact, I will sticky the cat with a note that says “Buddy!”
March 3rd, 2006 at 10:29 pm
HA! Kaz will let me in and I will yellow sticky EVERYTHING! Even your horrible cat named “Buddy”! In fact, I will sticky the cat with a note that says “Buddy!”
August 25th, 2006 at 2:46 pm
[...] The good news is I was born and raised in Brooklyn’s 11th district. That the incumbent Congressman Owens, the only congressman I have ever known (DeLauro was a congresswoman, after all), was retiring and the race to replace him had turned into the most contentious and controversial Congressional campaign was pleasing. Good, it’s about time somebody was fighting to represent the ECB. I didn’t know who I would vote for, but since I was moving it didn’t much matter. Bad news is, it turns out, move or no move — I still live in Brooklyn’s 11th. Seriously, I’ve looked at the map of this district it spans like seventy blocks in either direction, people! In fact, wherever you may be reading this post from, might also be in Brooklyn’s 11th. So, listen up. The dirty facts are these: Major Owens has represented this district since time immemorial. (Ever watch the Cosby Show? Elvin is his son.) Well, no surprise, his other son has stepped up to replace the dad. Not so fast. A long time member of the Brooklyn Democratic party scene, Carl Andrews was all “hold up, it’s my turn!” “I’ve represented the people of Brooklyn for twenty odd years, you’re not just going to waltz in and take your dad’s seat.” Fine. What’s that voice out there? Oh helloooo, Yvette “did I say college graduate?” Clark. She’s all “Ok, I know I lost two years ago against Major Owens, but I think I can do it this time.” (Note too that Yvette took over her mom’s seat on the city council after her mom decided to take on Major Owens in 2000. That Clark also lost.) So there you have it, another Owens, another Clark and the mainstay Andrews battling it out for the one chance to represent me and mine in Washington. Let’s get ready… Huh? What’s that? Who moved where now? Yas-what? “Hi, David Yassky, nice to meet you. I just bought the house next door.” Indeed, Mr. Yassky represents the good people of Brooklyn Heights, Cobble Hill and some schmancy ass place called DUMBO. In order, a place once described as filled with the “most white people I’ve ever seen in my life,” “off-whiteyville” and well…dude who else would live in a place called DUMBO but misguided hipsters? Oh, did I forget to mention that Yassky was white. Cause if I did, I’m the only one. No article about Yassky gets much past his first name before saying “only white candidate.” So, this is a head scratcher. No love for the ECB, and now we’ve got more candidates than we know what to do with. Well, my mom knows what to do with them. A couple of weeks ago, she went down to the Social Security office to get her papers in order for retirement. She had called ahead and found out all the proofs of identification she would need. She brought that with her and was met with a detached, preoccupied federal employee. “That’s not enough, we need your original birth certificate,” so-about-to-be-sorry-federal-employee tells my mom. She tries to explain that she called ahead and had brought all the papers she was told to bring by the person on the phone. “Well, I don’t care what they told you on the phone, I’m telling you, you need to bring the original birth certificate,” she said between smacks of bubblegum and taking personal calls on her cell phone. Oooh, how sorry is this woman about to be? Let’s see. My mom leaves the SS office and goes home. She calls her congressman’s office. She explains the situation. They tell her there’s nothing they can do. “Nothing you can do? There’d better be something you can do. There is an election coming up and if this is how you treat constituents, you can bet I have voted for my last Owens. In fact, I’m voting for the white guy.” Yassky, mom. His name is Yassky. Then you can say the white guy. Well, one hour later, a representative from Congressman Owens’ office was at the SS office, with mom straightening out the whole mess. In the end, bubble gum chewing woman, who my mom made certain to point out how rude it was of her to be smacking gum during their conversation (She tells me the same thing all the time.), was asked to shut off her computer for the day and “bring her things,” to the supervisor’s office. D’oh. Since then, my mom has cornered Chris Owens about his plans for the ECB youth, (a disappointing “my kids go to public school” was his response) and “the white guy” on “what he plans to do for the seniors” (she liked his answer, but I don’t remember what it was.) But since my mother now votes for crazy Republicans, I figured it was time for me to make my own decisions. Enter the NY1 debate. I have to say I was very impressed with Chris Owens. He’s much older and distinguished than I thought. And he’s an Old LLP alum. He is against the new Nets stadium and the move to kick a hundred thousand people out of their neighborhood by virtue of eminent domain. I agree with him, although I do think it’s more of a state issue than a federal one. Yvette Clark is not even a consideration. She wanted her mom’s council seat. She got her mom’s council seat. She can stay in her mom’s council seat. And this latest revelation that she didn’t get her fricking undergraduate degree clinches it for me. Despite what Ken says, my congressperson is going to have a college degree. In Greenwich they have college degreed congressmen, the ECB will have no less. What do you think this is? Carl Andrews… Now, if ever there was a man that has paid his dues and followed the party line…tis he. Unfortunately that party line that he towed was written by the multi-indicted Clarence Norman. I know it’s probably unfair to judge a man by his friends, but… I don’t know. I guess I’d just rather my congressmen not come pre-corrupted. He should take the bribes and get indicted after a couple sessions, like the rest of the districts get. And then there’s the white guy. I mean Yassky. First off, if you see Al Sharpton can you please tell him that “Yassky is white,” is not an argument. Oh, and tell him that if I hear him utter the words “you wouldn’t want a black person to move into a white district and run,” he’ll be getting a strongly worded kick to the junk. (After all, my whole Summers 2020 presidential bid starts with winning the Wyoming House seat.) So, my issue with Yassky isn’t that he’s white. Who cares. My issue with Yassky is simple. Would he have moved to the ECB or whereever in Brooklyn’s 11th that he lives, if Major Owens wasn’t retiring? If so, why didn’t he move sooner? Why doesn’t he represent my neighborhood on the city council? Now, before anyone asks whether I voted for Hillary Clinton in 2000, I’ll say upfront that I did. However, the situation is completely different. And hinges on one question: do I believe that Hillary Clinton would have moved to New York if there was no Senate seat available. And I do. (Now, whether they would have moved to Chappaqua…) I’m fairly certain that whoever wins the seat will move to D.C. and will only be heard from every two years. With that in mind, it’d give me comfort that they had some background and time in the area. That they known the historical Congressional 11th, not just the utopic 11th that the gentrifiers have wrought. And don’t get me wrong, I’m all for gentrification — bring it on. But bring it in context without removing the people that were there before. I really shouldn’t have more history with the district than my congressman. Otherwise, I should be the congressman…hmmm…how long till the primary? [...]