"I Wanted to Stay Away From Pretty"

We’re in the last lap now, the home stretch, anticlimax, like when the beat-box kid wound up last in the pool with the Disney princess/future silliest enemy of Russell Brand. No one cares what happens, really, except the people on the other side of the camera. But we, the innocent audience on an entertainment quest, are in this too deep to back out now; we might as well stick it out until the end. And that’s the downside of getting hooked on a reality show that has nothing to do with your own life experience, one you only watch because you just need an hour a week where you can get away from the fact that Sarah Palin can’t give a straight answer to anything or that the entire fucking country is melting down before your eyes and it’s about to all turn into The Trigger Effect with Kyle MacLachlan suddenly aiming a gun at your face for your last bottle of VitaminWater. Why not think about fashion instead? Or at least project all your accumulated work-life-rent-gasoline rage onto Kenley? It’s not like she’s really in your house or anything. She can’t hear you. And even if she were in your house it’s not like she’d listen to what you had to say. Or look at your collection. 

And it seems that just about everyone except me is sick of Kenley’s shit. Well, me and Xtreem Aaron. He still harbors not-homicidal feelings toward her. And this is in marked contrast to every single person in my apartment watching the show. Tonight’s viewing group includes XA’s coworker Job (yes, like in the Bible) and his boyfriend, Corey, who also happens to be one of my Advocate editors. I know, it’s a much-less-than-six-degrees thing happening tonight. I’ve come to realize that for someone who doesn’t like to leave the house I seem to know a lot of people. The husband/partner/whatever is here, as is neighbor Jill. You might remember Jill from last week when she announced that she wants to see Kenley punched in the face. I also seem to know a lot of people with violent impulses. 

The show starts with Korto talking about her husband and her kid and how she wants to show the child that Mommy pursued her own dreams, which entailed leaving the precious little one at home for a month with Daddy and 30 boxes of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I kid, Korto. You’re my current favorite and probably an excellent mother who left a month’s worth of delicious, wholesome meals in dated freezer bags. Please do not come punch me in the face. Cut to Leanne on interview cam stating that Kenley should have been eliminated a long time ago. Her reason? Kenley’s been disrespectful to everyone. Not that extra-fashion reasons probably don’t come into play when deciding who stays and who goes on this show. But rudeness = entertainment, Leanne. Don’t you watch The Hills? 

Kenley’s interview-cam counterpoint is “I’m not talking to Leanne.” Reason? Leanne spent every second on the runway acting a fool in Kenley’s even-less-hip-hop-than-PM-Dawn outfit. I’m going with Kenley on this one. Leanne was quite the little saboteur. And it was overkill. That garment could act a fool all by itself. It didn’t need bolstering. And what I love the most at this moment is how Korto and Leanne have decided that the gloves are totally coming off. They openly mock Kenley to her face in the Atlas apartment, Leanne whining, “I’m not even going to smile!” Korto repeats this sentiment. Kenley ignores them both. Meanwhile, Jerell is the last male standing and he’s been reduced to creating puppets from two pieces of fruit, a Tim Gunn bobble-head doll, and a bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup for companionship. 

Maybe you don’t watch the show. Maybe you only read these recaps. I’ve heard from some of you for whom this is the case. And if you’re one of those people, I want to stress something here: I wasn’t making that last part up trying to be funny. Jerell is actually performing a puppet show for the camera. He’s drawn faces on the fruit. Joe is a grapefruit. The syrup bottle is Jerell? Maybe? Anyway, Aunt Jemima Bottle says, “Goodbye, Joe.” 

Joe Grapefruit says, in a baby voice, “Bye-e-e.” 

Then Suede, represented here by an orange that sounds vaguely like Michael Jackson, wishes Jerell all the best. “Suede wants you to go and represent [garbled, unintelligible words of encouragement].” So yeah, Jerell is Aunt Jemima Syrup here. Tim Gunn Bobble Head observes the scene silently. “It was fun at first,” says Jerell on interview cam. At first? You don’t see the endless puppet high jinks possibilities here, Jerell? That proves you don’t deserve to win this competition. I’ve already developed three increasingly scatological one-act syrup-based mini-plays in my mind while making TiVo replay this moment. Next we see Jerell leaving Atlas and saying goodbye to Joe Grapefruit and Suede Orange. “Later, Joe. Later, Suede. Don’t rot on the counter. Goodbye, Aunt Jemima bottle of Me. Stay high-fructose-corn syrupy. Friends forever.” 

The final four meet on the runway. Heidi pops out from behind the scrim in a leopard-print minidress. The model filler stuff is dispensed with, and then they’re all off to meet Tim Gunn for a field trip. When they wind up at the New York Botanical Garden, Jerell says on interview cam, “I’m thinking we might go do something with plants.” And this amazing guess is brought to you by the gay tilty mini-fedora he’s got on his head. How much longer do we have to put up with these things? I hate them more than Crocs, and here’s why: Talk to someone who owns a pair of Crocs, and they’ll just shrug and go, “Whatever, man, they’re comfortable.” But a tilty-hat-wearer will start in on a monologue about how cute they think the hat is and how jaunty they feel in it. Then they’ll show you their favorite pair of $250 jeans they like to wear with it when it’s going-out-for-drinks time. Then you’re stuck. And ultimately, now matter how much Jerell is doing to turn my attitude about him around -- and it would be too demanding to ask for something even better than syrup bottle improv theater -- it’s little pointy thorns like this tilty hat that make me unsettled and cause me to continue questioning his presence in my life. 

At the gardens the five of them walk down some stone steps. I expect Jay Manuel to jump out from behind some azaleas at any second. And look at Korto there, in her royal blue outfit, like she’s about to shoot her own music video. Is there nothing she can’t wear? Every color pops off her deep brown skin, and she knows it and is constantly turned out. In her way she’s the Laura Bennett of this season. Jerell, speaking of the flowers, says they’re therapeutic. Tim Gunn, whose mind, it would seem, is never far from all things Mommie Dearest, responds, “It’s therapeutic unless you’re Joan Crawford. And a control freak. And you don’t want the bloom to fade.”