Thursday, August 14, 2008

#18) Tim Gunn



Because he is only the host of a reality TV show about fashion on basic cable and not an international pop star who has teenage Japanese girls peeing in their pants when he walks by, wearing a cape and under an umbrella with his tiny children running alongside in duck masks, Tim Gunn is not famous enough for the Bat Shit Hall of Fame.

He is, nonetheless, crazier than bat shit.

His look in the photo above would lead you to believe that someone just told them they have amputated a leg. Instead, he is looking at someone wearing something tacky.

The Fringe Festival is running in New York City this week, and on the slate is a little number called "Tim Gunn's Podcast (A Reality Chamber Opera)". The composer has taken Tim Gunn's podcast of the episode of "Project Runway" in which the contestants had to design a gown for Miss USA's trip to the Miss Universe pageant and set it to music. A baritone sings the podcast. Its ludicrousity is overwhelming.

While watching "Project Runway" and the dashing and ever-perfectly-coiffed King of Gay you can see how what he's saying makes sense. Saying that a dress looks like a log, if it does, in fact, look like a log, is fair game. However, when you start lamenting in your podcast about a dress that resembles a log, you just sound batshit crazy. What next? A car shaped like a leprechaun? SAT questions on the August 1987 issue of "Tiger Beat"? A New Kids on the Block Reunion Tour? Oh... wait... shit...

Tim's frail sensibilities and ability to be so horrified by pieces of clothing that are going awry makes you wonder how he handles actual crisis situations. Say, car accidents. Cancer. Starbucks being out of Chai.

I will let Tim Gunn's writing - in his "Project Runway" blog - speak for itself, however, as to why he makes our list:

Kelli is out. She chose Daniel as her teammate. The lion's share of the fabric chosen was black. It was punctuated with leopard (Brooke had cautioned Kelli: "Watch the leopard!") and some odd blue fabric on the bustline that looked like a non sequitur. Daniel was assigned the construction of a black pencil skirt with ruching, but, owing to myriad mishaps, it took two-plus attempts to get it right. Kelli worked on a Kelli-esque bustier top that incorporated the leopard. The day-to-evening transition was offered through a shrunken jacket with a 360-degree peplum: It comes off at night. What was impossible to overcome was how cheap and tawdry the outfit looked, especially the bare midriff: Brooke's character would look like a hooker, not a power broker. Kelli, we will sincerely miss you!

Kelli, you suck. I love you! Wha?

Yet, we do admit that Tim Gunn's particular brand of crazy isn't all bad.

"Tim Gunn's Guide to Style" serves the same purpose in society as TLC's "What Not to Wear," which is getting pudgy women from fourth-class cities to stop dressing like Mormon Fundamentalists and/or whores (future posts), and that is a service to society as a whole.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

#17) My Beautiful Mommy

Children's books that are supposed to explain why Mommy is so vain she required surgery to make her feel good about herself are crazier than bat shit.

If Mommy can't handle the fact that using her body to create another human being may make it less "taut" or "toned" than it was in the past, Mommy really needs to see a shrink because she either has a drug problem or she harbors delusions that women are supposed to resemble children from the age of 18 until they are about 65.

After 65, it is mostly okay to have a few wrinkles and let your hair go gray/blonde/silver. Because at that point you are officially eligible for social welfare, i.e. Social Security, and you won't die if you've been a stay-at-home mom with no job for 25 to 45 years and your husband trades you in for an actual 18 or 25 or 33 year old.

We understand the fear that would lead Mommy to want to have that tummy tuck. We really do. But that Mommy is afraid she has chosen a man to be Daddy that will turn around and throw her away when her tummy has been stretched from having YOU, well then, maybe Mommy should have gotten rid of Daddy instead of visiting Dr. Tummy Tuck.

But here's what's crazier than bat shit about this. This book was written by a plastic surgeon who willingly operates on Mommy to make her feel pretty again after having You, and he acknowledges that You, new to Earth, are having a reaction to this practice that needs to be controlled. Ameliorated. You think shit's going down, and this book is supposed to convince you that stitches, surgery and bloody bunches of gauze are perfectly fine, all in the name of holding on to your childhood. We mean Mommy's youth...

Which is something you really don't want your parents to do. Being your parents and all. You know. Looking and acting like they could be dating your friends instead of say, parenting You. You want them to be older, wiser, in control and to know what-the-hell-is-going-on. Because this world is bat shit crazy enough without Mommy changing the size of her lips.

Because here's the thing. Someday, You will find this book on your shelf, nestled between "Horton Hears a Who," and "Goodnight, Moon," and "Where the Wild Things Are." And you'll look at your Mommy and think "Wow. My Mother thinks that she needed to have a surgically altered ____ for us to love her and for her to feel good about herself. I always thought she was just straight up beautiful. God damn, that lady is crazier than bat shit."