Project Runway, S14 E5-Who Left, Who Didn’t, Who Should Have

(Disclaimer: Let me say that this is just my opinion-I wasn’t there. If you saw what I’m wearing right now-pajama shorts and an old T-shirt-, you’d see I have no business talking about fashion. Even so, I have a keyboard, which apparently makes me qualified to comment in some circles. I’m just writing this for fun anyway.)

I have to admit, I kind of hated this episode. It’s not the challenge I didn’t like or the clothes that came out of it, but that it was waaaaaaaay too much like high school for my comfort.

The premise was kind of strange-they broke into two teams and played a game of Capture the Flag, only the flag was rolls of fabric and the tagging was done with paintball guns. After the game was over, they were told that the material they’d be using for this challenges was what they were wearing, paint-splattered and all. The fabrics they “captured” were supplemental, but the bulk of what they used had to be the jumpsuits. O-kay. At least they got to paint what was left over.

Instead of using the button bag to pick the teams like they’d done before, the judges let Candice and Blake pick first. For some weird reason, Ashley was picked last. I know Candice picked Amanda first because she wanted to make her feel better and couldn’t have helped who the other people chose, but the girls were doing the exact same thing we would have seen in junior high-picking their friends as opposed to who would actually be good for their team. That’s not to say that the guys were any better; they could have picked her too. But both Blake and John pointed out that they were acting like the high school “popular crowd” asserting their “dominance” over the class nerd. That is not to say that Ashley is the “class nerd”-she most certainly is not-, but that’s how they made her feel. As “that girl” in high school, I feel for her.

Even Heidi called them out on this-Ashley had won *two* challenges out of the five they’ve had, so it was absolutely insane that she would be the last picked. Like I said before, I get what Candice was trying to do. Her heart was in a good place, and I don’t see her as being nasty at all. But the others-including the guys…I know a lot of the impressions we get is editing and things could have gone down completely differently, but I think this was part of why the girls’ team had so many problems communicating at first. When you have somebody with good ideas feeling as though she can’t express them without being shouted down-whether she actually was or not-, you can’t help but have a problem coming up with good group project. I didn’t see anyone shooting her down so much as her confidence being so damaged from being picked last that she wasn’t as upfront as she would have been otherwise. Again, I don’t know. Editing.

I can’t say I’d do any better. Hell, I can barely sew a button on correctly, much less an actual garment. But it was obvious to me that the guys (and Merlene) were communicating so much better because they focused on the task at hand and truly worked together on every piece of their collection;  Swapnil the Gorgeous (middle, leather jacket) even tells the judges this, and you could tell they appreciated it.

I just wish we could have seen his eyes. Blue. Maybe contact lenses, maybe not, but blue. Nice.

Here’s a slideshow of the completed looks:

By the way, Edmond won.

Regardless of which lady made which look, you could tell that something bad was going to happen. Closer to the runway show, we see Laurie telling Ashley that the others planned on throwing her under the bus for their collection. Ashley, obviously upset, starts talking about how she can’t trust anyone and doesn’t really know what to think. I wanted to give her a hug and tell her that she could trust me. Yes, it’s a competition, but I don’t play games with people. I don’t know-Laurie doesn’t, and maybe the others don’t either-but I don’t because I know what it’s like to be That Person.

None of their garments was very good, but that wasn’t any one person’s fault. Considering that a) they’d only grabbed orange and purple fabric, and b) they color-bombed all of their white fabric before deciding what to do with it, they did the best the could with what they had. I wonder if it might have been better to make the garments first and *then* use the colored paint, but whatever. Like I said, I can barely sew. After their stuff went down the runway (you can see it above), each one was asked who they thought was responsible for it-in short, who should go home. Sure enough, three of them picked Ashley. What’s bad was she had absolutely nothing to do with it-she kept telling everyone, no, don’t splatter the paint yet; no don’t cut the fabric yet; no, don’t [fill in the blank], but no one listened to her. Even so, three of the others threw her under the bus. I give her props for keeping it together-hell, I would have been bawling, at least somewhere backstage. Even Kelly Osbourne, who was judging, suggested it was a “bitchfest”, and I think that had at least something to do with their decision. Don’t get me wrong-Ashley *was* in the bottom, but hers wasn’t the worst outfit out there. The person they *did* send home-Amanda-was one of the “bus-throwers”, as well as having been in the bottom in the past few challenges.

I’ve said over and over again that I would be the most boring contestant ever because I wouldn’t want to talk crap about the other designers or their work on camera. That, and I’d be so bad that I wouldn’t be in a *position* to criticize anyone else. I think that last part might have been in the back of the judges’ minds as they decided who to send home and who to keep. It makes sense.


Who left: Amanda.

Who didn’t: Ashley. Kelly was also in the bottom, with an outfit that reminded me of an action figure. Edmond won.

Who should have: They picked the right person. I didn’t hate her dress so much as understood why the judges felt the way they did. She *had* been in the bottom two times before.

Anyway, I’ll stop my rambling now. Like I said above, I have no business talking about fashion when my usual outfit consists of gray flannel shorts and an aging T-shirt. I just like the show and figured my opinion was worth as much as anyone else’s. Okay, maybe not, but at least it’s interesting. I thought so, anyway.



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I have five cats, including one with special needs…they’re not just pets, they’re family.

Happy People & Positivity: An Annoying Trend


This post from a friend of mine is spot-on…It’s not that happy or positive people annoy me so much (I’m often one of them) so much as that some people speak as though positive thoughts are the be-all, end-all of healing…while I know how destructive negative thoughts can be as they mount up, it’s not always a *matter* of thoughts. Sometimes it truly is a physical, medical problem. Good thoughts certainly help, but to imply that someone with a medical condition only has the problems they do because they lack faith/don’t think the right way/etc is beyond insulting. Like La Sabrosona states, no one would ever say that about cancer or learning disabilities. It’s really easy to sum something up as being due to “laziness” or “thinking badly” when it doesn’t affect you or someone you love.

Come to think of it, I *do* know of some people who would say that about at least *some* learning disabilities. I’m just glad I’m not their kid.

Originally posted on my spanglish familia:

Do you ever come across blogs that read more like infomercials than motivational or educational resources?

Do your teeth hurt because they’ve caked on adjectives like too-sweet fondant over top their Leave-it-to-Beaver-message of how best to approach life’s great challenges?

Meet Dawn Gluskin, author of Type-A Zen. I came across one of her Huffington Post articles titled, Are Positive People Annoying?

My response? Yes Dawn, you are annoying. I’ll tell you why.

Because when you say things like this:

You see, happiness is a choice, but we sometimes forget. There are plenty of things in life that are less than perfect and we could just as easily choose to be happy or unhappy about them.

It makes my blood boil. I can’t “easily choose to be happy or unhappy” about my life’s circumstances because a symptom of my illness is negative thinking. Not just a whimsical idea of…

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Sh*t People Say to People with Mental Illness 


A very entertaining but sadly true post.

Originally posted on wehaveapples:

“We all get the blues!”

You: Um, so… I can’t function on a daily basis. I’m on the floor right now, unable to move. I’ve been sobbing for so long that I can’t breathe. This is my everyday. This is NOT “the blues.”

“Just be strong and put on a smile.”

You: Obviously I’ve tried that. I’ve gone to the Olive Garden and eaten breadsticks and spaghetti like a champ, talked about the weather, and smiled my best smile (while simultaneously losing it inside) 30 mins at table smiling, 4 mins in bathroom crying, back to table smiling for another 15. “Check please.” I’m trying so hard. Thanks for making me feel worse about myself and like I’m weak. I’m already ashamed.

“My cousin cured her depression by eliminating gluten.”

You: Ya, so you’re making me feel worse. *cries and eats almond flower cookie*

“This will be your new doctor-…

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My Thoughts On Life and a Plug For a Friend

I was reading a devotional book this morning from a pastor friend of mine who has bipolar disorder when something really caught my eye.

The book was Delight In Disorder-Ministry, Madness, Mission by Tony Roberts. Here’s a really cool website about the book and its author:

Here are some other quotes from his book:

Anyway, I was reading one of the devotionals where he talks about his experiences with suicide attempts. In one of them, he says that he felt a strange blend of “both shame and gratitude”-gratitude that his attempt to kill himself didn’t work, but shame that he’d tried it to begin with.

Although I am doing well now, I can relate to him. I myself have never actually tried to commit suicide, but there were times in my life-both as a teenager and as an adult-where I wondered if my life was really worth living. At one point I thought that it would be easier on everyone else if I had died in the accident I got into in 2005-my husband wouldn’t had to go through all of our savings to pay for my medical bills and equipment; we wouldn’t have had to struggle so much financially because of the loss of my (meager) income; I had a lot of other medical bills later on down the line because of some health conditions the doctors couldn’t figure out…do you see a theme here? Yes, I know it’s not about the money, but as someone who’s struggled to the point of having to file bankruptcy because of credit card debt, I know how stressful money problems can be and how it can infect every other area of your life.

I remember saying something about these feelings in 2007 and got a very bad reaction-I was accused of being an attention whore because I was mad that someone else was the center of attention in the group instead of me. Let me pause by telling you one thing: Probably the worst thing you can do to a suicidal friend is accuse them of something like this. They already feel worthless and unwanted; screaming at them and calling them names will only confirm this. It’s one thing if it’s a boyfriend threatening to hurt himself if you break up with him, but another thing altogether when your friend has a known problem that has a tendency to flare up. The people who said this knew I was having problems and, while something much more serious than this had just happened to one of our friends, anyone who knows me at all knows that I would never threaten suicide to get attention. Never. Plus, if I really wanted attention, I’m sure I could find a much more interesting way to get it. Damn, at least give me some credit.

Anyway, about the feelings…a lot of them probably came because my bipolar medication wasn’t working along with/because of the other health problems I’d been having, but a lot of it was feeling worthless because I couldn’t *be* anything-I couldn’t be a mom because of some, um, physical problems the accident caused, nor could I be a career woman like I wanted to be. I’d tried to be several times, but the mental stuff always got in the way. I did not always have these problems; bipolar often sets on in early adulthood, so it’s possible to go through school and set all these goals early on and then not be able to reach them. Ditto my ADHD. I know I talk about this a lot-probably too much. It’s not who I am. It may not run my life, but it definitely has had effects other bloggers can relate to. That’s how I found most of my follow list; they wrote a post I came across on another site and vice versa. They have it much rougher than I do, so my stuff is small potatoes.

A lot of the time you don’t feel depressed so much as numb. You want to reach out to others, but you just can’t find the energy. That’s how it’s been with me for a while now.  Like a friend once said, you’re not depressed so much as bored. That’s one reason you stay in your hidey-hole and don’t talk to people-nothing interesting is going on and you don’t want to drag your friends down. You don’t speak because you don’t have anything to say. It’s not hard to get confused.

You know what’s interesting? I think I always knew I wouldn’t do it…that I always knew that there was always life, that there was a light at the end of the tunnel-I just hadn’t seen it yet. I think I knew that Jesus was still there, I just couldn’t feel Him. It’s weird how I have to remind myself that His existence and care for us is not contingent on our ability to feel Him. I’m happy for people who feel His presence a lot and I certainly have too, but I don’t want to base my entire belief or spiritual “system” on this kind of emotion the way I did before. Sometimes it feels as though I don’t seek Him because I don’t think to the way other people do, but it doesn’t matter because I know He’s always there.

My brain and I are both doing very well now, so there’s no need to be alarmed. All of this happened a long time ago, but reading the devotional made me think about it. Thanks for listening to me ramble on like a freak. Have a good day!

My ‘Children’…Cee’s Oddball Photo Challenge

Many people know know me well know I love to take pictures. This is a relatively new finding-I started on a trip to England with some friends and haven’t stopped! Unfortunately the only equipment I have to work with is an iPod and the camera on my phone (or phones I no longer use). Still, I think they turned out pretty damned good. Others, not so much, which is why I might not have published or shown some of the earlier ones. Most of these were taken with my old LG for Verizon, but not all.  Anyway, here are the “weird” photos I’d like to submit to Cee’s Oddball Photo Challenge.

Haley and Slater, two of the sweetest cats in the world!

Haley and Slater (from left)
Two of the sweetest cats in the world! They can often be found in various affectionate poses. Slater also likes to run around the house like a madman, chasing after nothing. Maybe he sees something I don’t

Hey, I told Daniel Tiger I’d scan him in if he didn’t move…:)

I miss my Daniel Tiger. :(

“Mommy, yoo-hoo! I’m waiting!!!!

Missy, c. 6 mos

Now let’s play Find The Kitty!:

Toby is a Manx…this breed of cat is born without a tail. He’s what’s called a ‘rumpy riser’, because he has a little ‘nub’ he moves up and down.  Strangely, though, he is the only one I’ve ever seen chase his ‘tail’….*shakes head*.  Freak!

He’s a total chunk, weighing what feels like 12-15 pounds. Believe it or not, he’s not the fattest cat we know. I know one who weighs 26 pounds. Yes, you read that right. 26. What’s interesting is that he feels pretty solid, although I’m sure there’s some fat under there.

Here are some other photos I just feel like posting:

“Extreme close-up! Whooooooaaahhhh!”

Oscar isn’t our cat; he’s the 26-lb cat mentioned above but, yes, that’s a pickle he’s eating…

Anyway, these are some of my “oddball photos”. I hope you enjoyed them!

My Brain On OCD

(Warning: this post talks about nightmarish thoughts and might be triggering to some people. Plus, I ramble on like an idiot. That’s nothing unusual.)

Sometimes I really hate my brain.

Right now you’re probably thinking that that isn’t possible, that you have to actually have a brain in order to hate it. Sometimes I feel the same way. But right now I’m frustrated and upset when I have no reason to be.

My doctor calls these OCD tendencies. I never would have thought of that before now because when most of us think of OCD tendencies, we think of people who constantly wash their hands and insist on rubbing everything down with hand sanitizer or wet wipes for fear of catching the slightest germ. We might also have the tendency to worry about body odor, which I definitely have. At one point as a teenager I had 14 different kinds of deodorant because I couldn’t find the right one. Hey, you have people in school saying you stink both behind your back and to your face, you’d have a complex too.  To this day I still wash my underarms when I want to go out, even if I’ve had a shower that day. Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing.

I’m writing because I can’t seem to get all these scary thoughts out of my head. The thing is, these thoughts don’t come after watching horror movies or extremely violent shows; they come from completely random things that make no sense whatsoever. For instance, something I heard years ago on a TV show about some kids being on trial for animal abuse came up when I looked at my orange cat. I see him being thrown from a car and hear the lady who owned him (or, if he’s a typical cat, *he* owned *her*) talking about how everyone she loved had died and that that cat was her only companion in the entire world. It scares me to death because, while I don’t see that happening to my cats, I can’t get it out of my head. Also, this show was on probably 15-20 years ago. The tiniest things that most people wouldn’t even remember bother me.

I also remember how I had a dream that my husband and I were homeless and so desperate for food that we had to eat one of our cats, but we couldn’t figure out how to cook him so he died for nothing. That was a dream I had years ago that had me waking up crying, but it came back full force when I heard a news story where a little boy and his mom had to eat their cat because they had been left homeless by a war in their area and didn’t have anything else. It was one blurb in one news story I can barely remember, but I remember that. I’ve thoughts of abusing one of my other cats, of cutting myself, of stabbing my husband.  When I hear certain songs I imagine myself telling my husband I’m leaving him or that I am having an affair. None of these are true, none of these are even remotely in my character, and yet they remain in my mind.

Also, some of the thoughts aren’t even actions. I’ll look at my husband and hear the “flatline” noise that comes when someone dies.  This is somewhat relevant: he was in the hospital about 7 years ago because of an infection around his heart. Since he has a misshapen valve it was harder to treat; our doctor told us that if the anti-biotics hadn’t taken when they did, he’d have died. I’d be looking at him and think of him being in the Holocaust despite the fact that neither of us were even thought of when that happened-our parents weren’t even born, let alone us. I’ve had thoughts of us being really poor and using our last dollar on a Chinese buffet. I have thoughts of my husband quitting his job and laughing about it while taking me by the hand and us going to a Mexican restaurant and thinking, what have we done? One of the reasons I make up so many romantic stories is so I can keep those thoughts of out of my head enough to go to sleep. The weird thing is that this happens even when I take my sleep medication, but not when I don’t. If that makes sense.  Either way, it doesn’t matter since they usually come when I’m awake. Creepy.

I’m told that that’s the rub about OCD tendencies-that we *know* we would never do the things we think of doing or that these things would never happening, and yet the thoughts persist and come into our heads at completely random and unpredictable times. When I remind myself that that’s what’s going on, I feel better. Sometimes. Sometimes that either does nothing or gets worse. That’s why my doctor put me back on Prozac-apparently that’s the only thing that helps.

I don’t really have an ending for this, so thanks for listening to me rant. I hope I’m not alone in all this.

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