"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.”