Who Shot Drinking Game Friday?

First and foremost, happy 25th birthday to Ex Co-Blogger Chris!!!!!!!!1 (Or as my phone called it when the reminder alarm went off five minutes ago, "Chris' 25th Sex Romp.") I hope you have a fabulous weekend, I love you a shit ton and I wish I could be here to celebrate with you this weekend! (Hugthatlingersslightlytoolongtobeplatonic!)

Second and second most, while setting up the auto-post schedule for next week, I came to the frightening realization that neither Tulane Chris or I will be here on Friday to do a live T.G.I. Hagman update. In light of the recent passing of Lady McClanahan, this scares the crap out of me. WHAT IF LARRY HAGMAN DIES AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT BECAUSE I WASN'T HERE TO CHECK IN ON HIM?!!?!?!?! I can't be responsible for that! I can't be responsible for killing one of the greatest genie-fetishist/cowboy/stroke victim actors in television history! I couldn't. Therefore, I expect you all to hold your own T.G.I. Hagman's next week and celebrate in whatever way you and your god feel appropriate. Perhaps down some bourbon while back-handing a sassy ex-beauty queen?

OH HOLY SHIT, speaking of Dallas references: I will physically be in Dallas next Friday. IS THAT A SIGN?!?! IS LARRY HAGMAN GOING TO DIE ON THE DAY THAT I'M IN DALLAS BUT DON'T HAVE THE MEANS TO UPDATE THE WORLD ON HIS HEALTH?!?!?!?! Are there cyber cafes in Dallas?! I wish I was freaking out for comedic value, but I'm just not. Damn you Ex Co-Blogger Eddie. Damn you for transferring your unhealthy fixation on Larry Hagman's health to me.

I'm getting anxious. Time to check in with the old cowboy.



As of June 11th, 2010 at 1:12am, Larry Hagman is...alive! And here's to him staying that way while I'm off prancing around Ireland with hottie Timtern from Kell on Earth.

...And Alex. And Becca. And Geoff. And my parents. And minus hottie Timtern from Kell on Earth. BUT PLUS THE INCOMPARABLE SPIRIT OF LARRY HAGMAN!

Welp! Unfortunately I have to cut this short because I need to get some sleep before our incredibly long day of traveling tomorrow, but Tulane Chris will be back Monday morning and here to entertain you all week long. I've read all of his posts for next week and I'll give you two teasers: Nazis and scat porn. YEP. It's gonna be a great week to be alive. (HAGMAN, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!) Plus, I'll be dropping in periodically from Ireland, so keep checking back! Have a great week everyone! Miss you already! Buh-bye!

Ooo baby do you know what that's worth? Here's the Season Finale of Kell on Earth

Season Finale y’all! It seems like just yesterday we were marveling at how dumb Vorhees is; at how wacky Andrew M.’s clothing choices are; at how badly Skinner needs under eye concealer. And look how much we’ve grown since then!

To be perfectly honest, having been sans television for the past three weeks and therefore away from the recapping, I felt like I was so out of touch with what was going on at People’s Revolution. I came back expecting to have infinite fodder for jokes, but seriously you guys without the easy targets of Vorhees and Andrew S., shit gets complicated. Especially when I’m trying to be funny before the sun is up. I’m lucky I manage to put a large majority of my clothes on correctly in the morning. One of these days, I should probably start drinking coffee. What am I even talking about right now? Tangents, tangents, tangents.

Back to the subject at hand. Kell on Earth season finale. So with the recession in full swing, Kelly’s all worried about business and junk like that. We’ve seen our fair share of her clients try to dick her out of some money, and we all know that homey don’t play that. So what’s a fashion publicist to do? Well according to Kelly, they need to stop dealing with cool, hipster, broke ass clients and start taking on big names. Like Lifesavers? I know when I think haute couture, Lifesavers is probably about number 3 after Swiffer Wet Jet and Kix Cereal. So I support this decision of hers. BLANYWAY, lucky for Kelly DKNY calls a bitch up and is like “Hey want to help us make a movie?” And Kelly asks, “Will there be any tasteful nude scenes?” to which DKNY responds, “Yes, of course. But those are for our own private use. The video we distribute is about a sweater.” At this point Kelly said the name of the sweater (“The Cozy” for those of you who weren’t listening) seventy bajillion times like a good publicist should. So things are looking up!

Meanwhile, KCut’s bday is coming up and Skinner and Andrew want to throw her a surprise party. Trouble is, Madam Cutrone is a wily son of a bitch and she’s not one to be easily surprised. But they are like the Little Engine that Could and they chug along with thoughts of “I think I can.” So it’s Covert Op Bday Surprise for Private Andrew and Lieutenant Skinner (what? It’s so early. Please bear with.) So anytime Kelly pops out of the office for one reason or another, Andrew convinces Skinner (clubs her on the head and drags her by the hair) to duck out and help him do some planning.

The best part is when they go to get Kelly a cake, but of course wacky hijinx occur, because they decide they want to eat more cake, so they tell the restaurant they are tasting cakes for their wedding. So on the way to the bakery, they realize that a) Andrew is wearing the skirt (OF COURSE he is) and b) Skinner needs an engagement ring. At which point, Andrew proceeds to get down on one knee on a Soho street corner and fauxpose to Skinner. They chuckle and are merry. It reminds me of the time Meg and I were on the National Mall and I fauxposed and then an entire family reunion asked us if we just got engaged and they cheered for us. And we walked away in shame for lying. But hell, that family reunion has a story to tell thanks to us, amirite?!

Back to KoE. So Kelly’s being the next Quentin Tarantino for DKNY, filming a new girl power army decked out in multicolored Cozy sweaters marching through the streets of NYC. And wouldn’t you know they are having trouble with their guerrilla film making. Who would have thought that filming on the streets of NYC would be hard to do without also getting men in business suits on their Blackberries wandering into the shot? Clearly Kelly underestimated the “Fuck you” mentality of her own co-city dwellers. So they jet set all over the city to film the girls in several locations (P.S. anyone else notice Fatima from ANTM Cycle 10 was one of the models?). In SoHo, K.Cut brings Ava to see Mommy at work, because it’s important for Ava to know where the money for her MacBook is coming from. Or something like that. Honestly, I tuned out a little bit towards the end. I had been awake since 5:50 yesterday morning, so Quality Time with Ava sort of nodded me off. In the end, though, Kelly finished up a pretty bitchin’ film for DKNY, so maybe this bodes well for the future of PR in tough times. Yes? Yes.

So it’s party time! After much hoopla about who is actually attending the party (Pablo, the showroom manager? Where has he been? Have we seen him before? Why is he even invited? And why is he bringing three guests?), the party is on like Donkey Kong. Andrew takes the good old fashioned subway to the hotel (which is surprising to me, because wouldn’t it be so much easier to just take a cab. Especially if you’re secretly loaded, you crazy bastard.) with Kelly’s birthday/Andrew and Skinner’s wedding cake in tow. Now all we need is Kelly. Cue Robyn trying to wrassle Kelly into going to a “cocktail event for clients” wink wink. But of course, Kelly is having none of it and is in no mood. There should have been comical Benny Hill music playing during this part, because of course Kelly isn’t going to want to go to what’s supposed to be her surprise party. It’s just too easy.

But after hemming and hawing and caftaning, they manage to get Kell to the party and she’s either the world’s best actor and deserves an EGOT right now, or she was legitimately surprised because the tears were a-flowing! So maybe the cake read "Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Mukamal”. Details. Skinner and Andrew managed to do the impossible and surprise K.Cut. What a nice birthday.

Full circle: K.Cut totes cried during her confessional because of the party, but she still manages to plug her book by excusing herself to go outside. The consummate publicist, that Cutrone.

Just stackin' some donuts on my dick. (Happy Tuesday.)

Man. For a while there it looked like a recap of last night's episode of Kell On Earth was not meant to be. I was over at Laura's last night for a lovely dinner (God I love having friends who cook) when I realized at about 10:20ish that Chris' TV is probably sitting in Rosslyn while Chris is probably sitting in New York and I should probably stop sitting here binge eating coconut rice and go home to catch the 11 o'clock repeat. But that wouldn't be too hard to do, right? I just had to zoom down the red line from Van Ness to Dupont; a mere four stops. Shouldn't take more than two shakes of a lambs tail, right? WRONG! Wrong, wrong, wrong. Because when the DC metro isn't catching on fire or killing somebody or cracking in half like an Easter egg, it's a 525,600 minute wait until the next train. Christ.

But that's OK! I figured I could always stay up writing my inner monologue until the 2am repeat like last week. I had some ruminations about flags I could share with you. BUT NO! Directly after Kell On Earth, Bravo showed A Few Good Men for the next 900 hours. Which, as it turns out, was pretty good movie. I think that's a known fact though. I hear there's this new animated movie called Aladdin that's out and supposed to be really good! Maybe I'll catch that next.

I woke up early this morning to see if last night's episode was online yet, but it wasn't. I tried looking on obscure sketchy Korean youtube sites, but it was just anime and reruns of The Marriage Ref. I gave up and decided I should download it from iTunes but they don't sell individual episodes, just a season pass. Figuring I shouldn't spend my remaining 10-tree-house-dollars on a season pass to a show I've already seen 80% of, I decided sorry but eff that ess. Then I realized I simply have to scroll to the right to buy an episode individually. HA HA...oh me. A physics major, I was not. So I went ahead and bought it on iTunes and now we can all enjoy a Kell On Earth recap. That's how much I love you all. $1.99's worth. But remember I'm Jewish, so that's like $199 to us. You're welcome, world. L'CHAIM!

Kell On Earth Episode 7: Tough Times

If Terrance Howard taught me anything in the major motion picture Hustle and Flow, it's that it's hard out there for a pimp. And by a pimp, I believe he meant Kelly Cutrone. Kelly is hurtin' from the recession, you guys, in a big, big way. Bitches don't pay their bills (which reminds me, I need to pay my cable bill...) and homegirl has to run around town hauling people's asses into Small Claims Court to get the money they owe her while trying to find new business to bring in while trying to decrease overhead and increase revenue and UGH! Good job, Recession. (Side note: the fuck? I'm watching TV and Nicole Sullivan is doing Jenny Craig commercials?.........is it 1992?? That would suck. How old was I in 1992? 7? 8? Why can't I do that math? I literally just opened a new tab to type "How old was I in 1992?" into google. That's sad. Why am I typing any of this?)

Speaking of money issues, People Revolution needs to hire a new Account Executive to replace Vorhees and fast. Robyn interviews a tiny little stick bug of a thing who's chin could skewer shish-kebab meat named Mallory. Mallory used to work with Michelle, PR's Lifestyle Director. If I forgot why I love Kelly Cutrone, this scene reminded me why. At a certain point during Mallory's very serious interview with Robyn, Kelly opens the door and is like, "Excuse me, I don't mean to be unprofessional...BuT rObYn Is ThIs YoUr HeAdBaNd CoLlEcTiOn?!?!1" and wacky kazoo music plays. I don't know. It just really struck a chord with me. Kelly goes on to explain that she lost her hiring privileges when she started meditating in an interview and Robyn got really pissed at her. OH KELLY! What will you do next?

I'll tell you what she won't do—give you free advice, asshole! Kelly is sick and tired of people trollin' around the office asking her for free advice and favors. I'm sorry, but she has got a business to run, mouths to feed, 15" MacBook Pros to buy for 8-year-old girls who don't even know what "server space" is (I'm sorry, I'm not going to let it go) and she can't afford any of this by giving shit away for free. AND THAT MEANS YOU, GEORGE WAYNE!

George Wayne is a friend of Kelly's and a writer at Vanity Fair and I can't understand a god damn word that comes out of his mouth. Seriously. I can't tell if his accent is British or Jamaican or Creole or if there's a mop in there, but I just barely get out that he wants People's Revolution to throw together a fabulous event for him. For free. In four days. Lofty goals sir, lofty goals. He also wants them to find "somebody fabulous" to host the event, so Michelle hops on her blackberry and shoots off an email to her friend in the Mayor's office. "EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME MISS PDA!" George mumbles/shouts (mouts) at Michelle, "THAT IS RUDE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON YOUR BLACKBERRY WHEN I'M HERE?" ...Says the man who refuses to take off his sunglasses in a meeting. Now, if I were Michelle I'd probably fly across the table, rip off the white piping on his little suit and choke a bitch with it, but Michelle handles things with a bit more grace and ease. She eventually gets her revenge though when Kelly refuses to do the event and she's allowed to be the one to call him and break the news. MUHAHAHA. I like that Michelle. I like her moxy. She should get more face time instead of Robyn, who I want to punch in the camel toe every time I see her on screen.

Speaking of Robyn, she decides to go ahead and hire Mallory and give her the completely reasonable salary of $70K a year. ZUH?!?! 70,000 dollars a year?! AMERICAN?!?!? I wouldn't even know what to do with myself if I made that money. The possibilities are endless. I think I'd probably just buy a gilded bathtub, fill it with cocaine and sniff my way out. Just because I could. In which case I guess it's a good thing that I'm unemployed........Anysnort! Monday morning rolls around and everyone comes back into the office, cracks open Page Six and finds giant story about how old Mallory stole $97,000 worth of jewelry at her last job. OOOOF. Good call, Robs. "You know why Mallory didn't call Robyn back to accept a position at People's Revolution?" Kelly asks the camera, "BECAUSE SHE WAS IN THE CLINK!"

Kelly Cutrone...please don't ever change.

Whereas last week we got to learn a little more about the private life of Andrew M, this week we learn about Stefanie Skinner. I really like Skinner. I know Co-Blogger Chris doesn't share those sentiments, but whatever. We rarely see eye-to-eye on anything so it kind of makes sense. I loved Bee Movie. He hated it. I have a heart and a childlike sense of wonderment. He does not. I loves me some Stefanie Skinner. He's frightened by her.

I appreciate that Skinner lives in a realistic downtown New York City apartment vs. Andrew's de-luxe apartment in the sky or Kelly's entire city block. Skinner's apartment is small, on the ground floor, doesn't have a dishwasher and costs $1550/mo. PREACH. Likewise, her love life is also kind of in shambles. DOUBLE PREACH.

Skinner's been dating a young gentleman named Alano for a little over a year. Ahhh Skinner and Alano. A love story for the ages. One day Skinner was at a bar with her old boyfriend when she spied young Alano across the bar. Taken aback by his sparse little mustache and girlish figure, she wrote her number on a cocktail napkin in eyeliner and slipped it into his pocket. The next day he texted her and as they say, the rest is history. How much do I love that? It's kind of scandalous. Kind of romantic. Definitely involves a cocktail napkin. Perfect. Unfortunately, Alaro's patience for Skinner's hardcore work ethic is waring thin. Skinner loves her job and doesn't see that changing any time soon though. She's like, I can't sit here and eat scrambled eggs with you all day, dude. WAMP, WAMP. It's very Devil Wears Prada meets lastnightsparty.

Kelly decides to leave Ava in the care of her MacBook Pro for a week and head to the LA office to check in and try to find some new business for them outside of the fashion world. Namely, "My Studio," an aduio/visual high def recording studio for malls. "America loves a contest on a Saturday night in a shopping mall," Kelly says. And how!

Kelly also wants to team up with her old friend Rock Ross, owner of Delicious Vinyl, to do some events in his "beat driven/street driven/dance driven/design driven" art space, "Freak City." Uhhhh, don't give me that look, peasant. Everyone's been to freak city from MIA to Peaches. GAWD! I'm pretty much only mentioning this scene because on her way there, Kelly picks up the phone and does some light rapping/spoken word poetry. No, really. I'm not kidding. She used to be signed to Atlantic Records for it. Kelly Cutrone Def Poetry Jam. The taste we got last night? "If you're over 30 and you want to make some money/ I'm down for the deal/ like Remington Steele." Geinus. If you don't get it, you are clearly a fucking faggot.

Back in the office Andrew M and Skinner are working hard and bonding hard. He makes her a little Givenchy-inspired spiked headband and they go on an adventure to get Red Bull. He thinks she looks beautiful and would definitely date her if he weren't into dudes right now. They should probably just fuck on his Versace chair and get it over with.

DVR TEASER: I think it's true that everything happens for a reason because I am so, so glad I own this episode and can watch this week's DVR Teaser whenever I want. Because it very much features Andrew M talking about stackin' some donuts on his dick. Yep. "It's like ring toss." Andrew M: much like your mentor, you make us better as a people and a nation.

While Kelly is in LA, Robyn hires another Account Executive named Grace who came highly recommended from New York magazine. She has a lot of PR experience (read: four years) and didn't Twitter about her job interview or steal the Hope Diamond, so everyone's pretty stoked on her. I'm not her biggest fan though because she inadvertently gets my BFF Skinner in trouble in this week's Most Pointless Fight of All Time.

Ughhhh...do I even have to go into it? Sigh. The rule at People's Revolution is that nobody goes home unless they can all go home. Grace didn't know this because it was her first day. When she was done with her work, she went up to Skinner and was like, "Yo. I'm done with my work, need help?" and Skinner was like, "Nope, I got it under control," and Grace was like, "Cool, peace," and left. Then rumors starting flying around that Skinner told Grace she could go home, all hell broke lose and Kelly got super cunty with Skinner, Grace and Emily.

It wasn't really a big deal though because a day later Alano breaks up with Stefanie and Kelly is back to giving Skinner advice and letting her cry on her KA-KA-CRAZZZZYYY poncho-ed shoulder.


FIN!

Where's Andrew S with an Ativan when you need one?

Good morning all! Before we get to this week's recap of Kell On Earth, I have a few matters of housekeeping to discuss:

1.) Re: the following text message I received yesterday afternoon from Allison:

Please tell me No Post Mondays are not the new black. You're my Monday life support, Meg!

a.) Bless your heart, Allison! Bless it good.
b.) No, I promise they're not. And sorry about that. I didn't post last Monday because Co-Blogger Chris was in town being all handsome and distracting and I didn't post yesterday because I was having one of my emo episodes where I desperately need to lock myself in my apartment, snort a few lines of Pepto chewables and sleep for an absurd amount of time. But by mid-afternoon things got a whole helluva lot better, so now I'm back! Sorry I got all Morrissey on you. I'm here. My mom thinks I'm queer. Get used to it.

2.) Frankly, I forgot the other item of housekeeping...I saw Shutter Island tonight and things have been kind of touch-and-go since. I'm also currently watching a show called TRANSform Me on mute and I think it's about drag queens giving teenage girls with low self-esteem makeovers? I don't know. I care about it enough to note it's existence, but not enough to reach my hand out and pat around my bed to find the remote to un-mute it. Sorry. I've already been to the gym once today, a-thank you very much. (Lies. I've been laying in my bed feeling sorry for myself and we all know it.)

You may have noticed that I'm kind of just awkwardly typing my inner monologue at this point and not actually writing anything of substance. Well, Chris couldn't recap Kell On Earth tonight (last night, for you) because his TV is packed in a box somewhere en route to the district (HUZZAH!) and I was too busy getting the Ruffalo scared out of me to watch it or the repeat at 11, so now I need to stay up until the next repeat at 2am. And yes, I know there are easier ways to do this, but I don't know when they put the newest episode online and this sister can't afford DVR. I'm unemployed. Don't judge me or my cable package. So now my plan is to type my inner monologue to avoid falling asleep because I know myself and I know that once I'm out, I'm Out. With a capital O. Edward Norton could break in wearing tap shoes, no pants and a gift basket of Kashi Go-Lean and I'd still be out like a light.

So what can I talk about? Umm...I did my laundry today. It was really cathartic. I hadn't done it in a while. I bought a new brand of laundry detergent because it was $2 off at CVS with my bonus card and I'm thoroughly enjoying it's refreshing yet musky scent. Uhhh....I've been ravenously hungry recently and I'm breaking out, so I guess I'm going to get my period soon? That's exciting. I guess. Fertile Myrtle and all that. Ooo! It's 1am. Making progress. Just another hour to go. Real Housewives of New York City is on right now but I refuse to watch it because the rift between Jill and Bethenny affects me and my daily mood way more than anything not involving me or someone close to me should. I don't know why I give reality television this much power.

What else? OH! So my "everyday necklace" is starting to give me a rash, which I find completely irritating on two distinct levels: 1.) I like it and I don't want to take it off and 2.) It was expensive. I totally interpreted it's expensiveness as a sign that it doesn't have any nickel in it, but judging from the disguising and painfully itchy rash developing around my neck, I guess not. Nickel has to be the most inconvenient metal to be allergic to. That shit is everywhere. Like on the inside of every button on every pair of pants in America, for example. True story: I have to put clear nail polish on the back of the buttons in my pants or else I get a really painful rash on my stomach. It's either that or get hypo-allergenic pants, which is a level of nerdom I'm just not ready to explore. Yet. Ok, 1:30, doing well. Let's see, I've already shared that I'm broke, ovulating and allergic to common metals, how else can I convince you not to have sex with me? WOW. There's a bottle of skin astringent laying next to me in bed and for a hot second I thought it was a bottle of water and almost drank it. That would have been interesting to explain to the paramedics...

Um. Um. Um, what else? My face itches. Fucking allergies. I have to pee but I don't want to get up. I should probably stop typing and/or delete all of this later. GOD DAMNIT, I just reached for the astringent again. 'Ehhhh...I'm going to check Twitter. See what's happening in the world. Ok, according to Snooki, season 2 of Jersey Shore is going to be "crazy." Good to know. OMG! Someone retweeted something from Henry Holland!!!11o2i3rjo2i3jr. I didn't know Henry Holland was on Twitter?! I once tweeted that he's like, "a walking boner for my eyes." Had I known he was on Twitter I totally would have @-ed him and we'd obviously be in love and wearing matching neon mesh outfits in the English countryside right now! I think the reason I'm so into Henry Holland is because he kind of looks like Michael Showalter, except times gay:



Just a little theory I've been working on. 1:56am. AWESOME. That photo research really wasted time quite nicely. Cutrone AHOY!

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This week we got a good look at the inner workings of Andrew M, and let me tell you something: Andrew M fascinates me like nobody has ever fascinated me before. (Well, except Al Corley, maybe.) Andrew M apparently comes from a lot of money and only has a job because there are 24 hours in a day and you can only spend so many of them polishing your solid gold shitter. This, for some reason, is shocking to me. I mean, I'm not trying to say that he's always seemed "down-to-earth" to me, as the boy repeatedly wears outfits that look like if ADIDAS track pants made love to Elvira's dungeon, but of all of Kelly's lackeys, I'd probably want to be trapped in a box for 29 hours with him the most. Skinner comes in a close second. Kelly's navy caftan third.

Andrew M lives in an apartment attached to his parent's place on 57th street and playa be ballin'. He has a gilded baroque Versace chair in his bedroom. I have a Jäger machine. His employers found it endearing when he ordered over $500 worth of printer paper because he didn't want to deal with the stresses of ordering office supplies again. I was shit-canned and threatened with legal action for writing a blog. He has a job just for funsies. I spent the better part of today emailing various craigslist adult gigs to Alex and asking if they're good ideas or not. What I'm trying to say is: jealous.

Personally, I relate more to old Andrew S. Poor, poor Andrew S. Robyn hates Andrew S' guts with a burning passion and he just can't figure out why. I'm apt to blame the lisp. Or the absurd tan. Or the Britney Spears lyrical tattoos. Or the fact that he's a pill popper who always looks like he's wearing a jar of high-gloss lip balm. Or because he can't quite seem to ever do his job correctly. My guess is as good as yours. The only thing we know for sure is that Robyn is a raging Cuntosaurus Rex whenever Andrew S is in a 4-food radius of her and I kind of feel badly for him.

BUT YOU KNOW WHO I DON'T FEEL BADLY FOR? Ava. I don't want to say I "hate" the daughter of my idol, because that seems so callous and uncalled for. Let's just say that I don't find it "adorable" when she clickity clacks away on the computer my grown-ass has been saving months for while she badmouths Wal-Mart and the fact that her grandmother shops there. Oh, I'M sorry, Ava Cutrone. We can't all have golden MacBooks thrown at us for graduating new-age hippie Kindergarten. Some of us have to work jobs to afford computers and then get fired from those jobs and are forced to dip into our laptop funds to survive, so it only makes sense to take advantage of every day rollback prices. Gawd. (Ok. I swear I'm done picking on 8-year-olds. For now...)

Where was I in this recap? Oh yes—

Robyn to Andrew S: "CUNT CUNT CUNT, WAH WAH WAH, HATES YA HATES YA HATES YA."

After a hard day berating Andrew S and his tan of many colors, Robyn, Emily and Kelly decide to take a stroll around the block to blow off some steam and meet interesting, fascinating people. One of these people is Lucien, a skateboarder slash bookmaker with a fancy European accent and a quasi Jheri Curl whom Robyn is all over like under-eye circles on Skinner. And good for her! Kelly thinks Lucien is the perfect guy for a power girl like Robyn because "he's just a cute guy who rolls up with you to events and looks good and just wants to fuckin' have fun." I'm pretty much in the market for that exact same thing myself. Except I'm not a power girl. And the events you'd be rolling up with me to wouldn't so much be "events" as dive bars and my couch. But, you know. Tomato, toe-mat-oh.

The next day Kelly takes Andrew M to a look book shoot for the Xenya line of affordable* dresses. (*Affordable = under $500. RECESSION LOL!) Here's the root problem with Andrew M: he doesn't really know what's up with his job half the time and he doesn't really care that much about figuring it out, but he'll never get in trouble for it because he's so god damn likable. Everybody likes him. Myself included! Even though he's kind of lazy and clueless. It's not fair. For example, he kind of half-asses the Xenya shoot, but every one's too busy being like, "HAHA! LOOK AT HIS ADORABLE GOTHIC STOCKINGS!" to notice or care. Kelly even takes him to meet noted milliner (that's a hat maker for you peasants) Stephen Jones and offers to buy him a one-of-a-kind black Price of Darkness crown...hat...thing because she thinks he's so cute. Do you think she'd do that for Skinner? Uh, hellz no. But you gotta give it to Andrew M; it's kind of genius. If only poor Andrew S would realize that all he has to do is stop listening to Britney Spears and start listening to Saviour Machine and he'd have Robyn in the palm of his hand before you can say Emily The Strange.

Alas, Andrew S never gets the memo and only makes things worse for himself when he wants to take time off right after Fashion Week to go to a wedding back in California. To be fair, Andrew asked for this time off back when he was just a little baby intern and didn't know that things are still really hectic right after Fashion Week, but he stands his ground to Kelly and tells her that even though the office is going to be crazy short-staffed without him, he's still going to LA. And ooof. Tenseleytown/AU. (Oh, wow. Really? A DC metro pun?) (It's 3am. Let's not talk about it.)

DVR Teaser: Children grow quickly and it's funny to watch them walk around in adult-sized shoes. Like dogs. The end.

Who's got platform wedges, an S&M beltlace and feels like throwing a wacky Adam's Family themed dinner party?? Andrew M, of course! But how ever will he find time to plan a dinner party and run Kelly's office? With the help of his assistant/mom, of course. Andrew basically calls his mom (whom he literally refers to as his "assistant") from work and asks her to throw together the dinner party kthnx! and she does. This should annoy me but mostly I'm just sad I didn't get an invite. GOD DAMN HE'S GOOD.

Andrew and Skinner then proceed to get in the world's most pointless fight when Skinner shows up late to his dinner party because she had to stay and finish the work he abandoned to get dressed and "call everyone up to see what they're bringing." OH, ANDREW! You little skamp, you! (Side note: I almost just drank the astringent again. I have officially moved it to my nightstand.)

Blah, blah, blah...Kelly tries to whore Robyn out to a waiter who likes big boobs, yadah, yadah, yadah, Skinner and Andrew S make up....BAM! Monday morning everyone comes into the office and—SHOCK!—Andrew S quit over the weekend and is moving back to California permanently. Poor little thing. Truth be told, I'm actually going to miss Andrew S. That's when Andy Cohen pops out my refrigerator and shouts "SURPRISE! WE'RE ONE STEP AHEAD OF YOU, SWEETHEART!" and there's a really funny black and white remember when... montage of Andrew S. hair spraying his hair, laying in a tanning bed, showing off his B. Spears tattoos, offering Skinner Ativan and cluelessly shaking a printer cartridge. God...if I could be in a Facebook relationship with Bravo TV, it would not be an open one.

Welp! Good night slash have a wonderful day at work!

Kelly Cutrone: mighty as a lion, but still as gentle as a bluebird.

Hi guys. First and foremost, I apologize for not posting yesterday. Co-Blogger Chris slept over Sunday night because he had a few job interviews yesterday (!) and blogging is slightly difficult when you're in the midst of a drunken giggly Oscar-fest sleepover. I had every intention of posting something Monday morning, but alas, Chris and I were too busy straight-up doin' it. Yep. HOT AND HEAVY. By "doin' it," I of course mean watching clips of Cedric The Entertainer specials on youtube while spooning, but in my mind it's all one in the same. The moral of the story is I'm a piece of shit and I'm terribly sorry. WAMP, WAMP!

Oh, and speaking of pieces of shit who don't deliver! You know who I'm currently in a fight with? Kell on Earth. I KNOW! I NEVER THOUGHT I'D LIVE TO SEE THE DAY EITHER! But I'm sorry Bravo, my love is not unconditional. You have to earn it. And I don't appreciate it when I leave drinks early and hustle down P street like I'm about to have explosive diarrhea to make it in time for what turns out to be a half-assed episode. If I'm putting in the effort, so should you. I think we need couples therapy, KOE. Lord knows I have the time.

If you're not already familiar with the 2004 Lyfe Jennings song "Must Be Nice" (and I'm not sure why you wouldn't be), I'm going to go ahead and ask you to familiarize yourself right now:

Because that was the theme of last night's semi-boner of a Kell on Earth episode. I don't know if I was just feeling particularly bitter last night or what, but I found myself angrily crooning (out loud) (and very much alone) "MUST BE NICE!" at just about every other scene. And while I'm always happy to have some Lyfe Jennings stuck in my head, I really could have done without.

As we recall from our last episode two weeks ago, Kelly, Robyn and Emily are across the pond wrapping things up with London fashion week. The last show they have to produce is the Jeremy Scott show, which starts at the dreaded "fashion witching hour" of 10 o'clock in the morning. I was up to write this post at 8. For free.

The show pretty much goes off without a hitch except for when the lighting designer made a decision without consulting Kelly first and she had to serve him up a big 'ole plate of chicken fried Akrite. I was really nervous for Kelly when she started yelling at him because I thought he had a tear drop tattoo under his eye, which I know from growing up on the streets (of Olney, Maryland) means you've killed someone, but upon closer inspection I realized it was just an unfortunate non-gang related mole. El-oh-el & sucks to be you.

As Kelly and co. are walking to a meeting after the show, some completely random schmoette designer walks up to Kelly and is like, "Hi. Wanna edit my collection for me?" and Kelly, being the gentle lamb with a side of mint sauce she is, says, "Don't mind if I do and don't mind if I do." Hm. I had no idea K. Cut went around dishing out advice so freely, especially considering how when I emailed her Bravo PR rep and asked if she'd answer five brief email questions for 2birds1blog, I got a middle finger faxed back to me. Hm.

Hey guys! Drinking game! Take a shot every time Kelly smugly talks about how she and her baby daddy, Alario, have a "modern" "European" relationship where they don't live together but still raise their child as a team. WELP! All of our livers just collectively put some canned beans in a bindle and skipped town on the first train a-driftin' through. I get it Kells; your situation is not the norm. I'm very impressed. Check and mate. Now stop talking about it! And stop "complaining" about how "oh my god! people keep thinking Alario and I are married because we apparently look like such a cute couple. GOD, CAN YOU IMAGINE?! Gross!" ...Right. I know I hate it when people think I look good on the arm of a drop-dead gorgeous Italian man and throw free lobsters at me and pay off my student loans in caviar and cunnilingus...

Kelly high-fives Alario goodbye and heads back to New York with Ro-Ro and Em-Dash ASAP because if she stays any longer they might as well move into a split-level house in Jersey and re-wallpaper the downstairs powder room over the weekend, am I right or am I right?! Unfortunately, back in the office things are just as busy and dramatic as ever. Skinner is irritating the pants off Emily because she can't delegate a task to save her life and it's getting tense. Like, Vorhees tense. But! Kelly has no time to deal with that right now. You see, Harper One called her up out of the blue one day and said, "Hey KayCay! Wanna have some albino chick ghostwrite a hit book for you about empowering young women who want to get into the fashion biz?" and Kelly was like, "Umm, well I gotta go to Babeland to buy a $28 bottle of organic lube as a goof for my business partner's Casey Kasem/Barry Manilow hybrid of an assistant...but I guess you can send her over after that."

So Albino Ghostwriter skampers over to Kelly's personal floor of the building and sits down to rap with Kelly about life, love and caftans while Kelly's 8-year-old daughter, Ava, haphazardly bangs away on a laptop significantly nicer than mine, despite the fact that I'm a 24-year-old writer and she hasn't gotten her period yet.

But not everything is caftans and rainbows. Skinner is still struggling to deal with the stress of doing her work plus Stephanie Vorhees' work while Emily and her blunt cut bangs and skinny jeans breathe down her throat 24/7. Reaching her breaking point, Skinner wisely goes outside to cry and call Kelly. Kelly then calls Emily and tells a bitch to step off, as Skinner's "given enough of herself that she gets part of herself back," or something as equally terrifying sounding. Then, in a stroke of comedic genius, Kelly comes back into the office, walks up a token queer and is like, "Oh HEY! Got you some lube, FAG!" and it turns out to be some random male intern sitting in the wrong chair and not Andrew M. God, first day of work and Kelly Cutrone accidentally throws organic lube in your face...

Speaking of lubrication, things actually get significantly better between Skinner and Emily. Skinner does some much needed reprioritizing, Emily delegates some of her tasks to Andrew S., they solve a tequila-based murder myster together at the Ina Men event and all is right with the world. Skinner says it's a lot like fighting with your sister. You know, minus the name calling, cat-fighting, emotional abuse and pot smoking peace session. Sister, sister. You never knew how much I missed ya.

Towards the end of the show, Kelly and Andrew S. get just as bored as I was and decide it would be hee-larious to crash Andrew M.'s blind date with a gentleman who looks like if Ben Affleck got beaten about the face with an ugly stick. And good thing too. The pair show up just in time as Andrew M. instigates an awkward game of word association with Fen Flaffeck. "I'm gonna say a word and then you say the first thing that comes to mind," Andrew says.

Fork? Spork.

Banana? Sexual education class.

Dildo? Wood.

Lube? Uhhhh....
OH HEY, IT'S KELLY CUTRONE AND ANDREW S.! Andrew M. turns six different shades of pink-tinted-bronze as Kelly mounts a chair and explains to Fen Flaffeck that if you date one person at People's Revolution, you date the whole bunch. "It's like the stuff brother's and father's used to do," Kelly explains. Special note to my dad and future brother-in-law: if you randomly show up while I'm on a blind date, I will throw Pinot Grigio in your face and stab you with a butter knife. HAHA, that's a blatant lie and we both know it. I'd probably be get really psyched and order a round of Irish car bombs. Meghan McBlogger: single since 1985.

Our episode closes with Mary Ellen Mark shooting Kelly for her new book. According to Kelly, Mary Ellen Mark is the most important living photographer and one of the few women she looks up to. Apparently having her shoot your dust jacket portrait is a lot like asking Rembrandt to paint your bedroom. Or like asking Larry Hagman to pour your bourbon. Or asking Lyfe Jennings to make the projects feel like a mansion. The point being: you're out of your league. But of course Mary Ellen agrees and she spends a day shooting Kelly's book portrait and even takes a few extra shots of Kelly with Ava. Wow, asking the woman you look up to to help a sister out and she actually does...

FIN.

Recrap Tuesday: London Calling

Our Kelly, Who art in Soho, Caftan be Thy name; Thy Cutrondom come, Thy guest list will be done, or an Intern shall be sent to Heaven. That's right, this week I have the almighty privilege of recapping Kell on Earth for you, as Co-Blogger Chris was feeling a bit under the weather last night. Am I mad about it? No! Christ Cutrone no! I'm honored. Because as I've alluded to many a-time on this blog but never explicitly discussed, I love Kelly Cutrone. But you know what I don't love? The look people give me when I tell them that. True, I don't usually stop at "I love Kelly Cutrone." I awkwardly continue, "No but like, I really love Kelly Cutrone. Like, questionably. I want her to be my Wolf Mother," a sentence which if you haven't read her book somewhat sounds like I'm into gay incestuous bestiality. And to clarify, I'm not! I just don't think people understand what a win for planet earth Kelly Cutrone is. And (apparently) it is my mission to tell them. YOU'RE WELCOME. First of all, let me just state for the record that I don't love Kelly Cutrone just because she's an over-the-top bitch. Being outlandishly bitchy doesn't give you a free pass to sit at my lunch table; I don't find it amusing or charming. Omarosa? Olivia Palmero? Sarah Palin? No thank you. Bitches? Yes. Inspiring? No. But Kelly Cutrone is bitchy and inspiring. In fact, it is her bitchiness that's so inspiring in the first place! Because Kelly Cutrone isn't just a bitch for the sake of being a bitch; she's a bitch because she's a fucking badass businesswoman who don't take shit from no one and that is something I can be down with. Not taking shit from people on a daily basis is a hard thing to do, especially if you're female. Not to get all awkwardly serious on a comedy blog, but I think we're programmed to want to be "nice girls" and, unfortunately, in the quest to be labeled a "nice girl" we let people walk all over and take advantage of us. But I say eff that ess! Because I'd rather be called a black haired looser than take shit from anyone. That being said, having the balls to stick up for yourself can sometimes be easier said than done. That's why you need people reminding you not to take shit from anyone. My family's motto is "Don't fuck with a [insert real last name here.]" If I'm ever complaining to my sister or parents about getting dicked over by someone, they just look me in the eyes and say, "Meghan. What is our family motto?" NEVER FUCK WITH A MCBLOGGER! Suddenly I feel empowered to tell a bitch to akrite. And That's why I respect Kelly Cutrone. She just wants the women of our generation to never settle for anything they don't want and to work hard to become a bad mother—shut your mouth! But I'm just talking about Cutrone? Well I can dig it. And frankly, I think the rest of the world should dig it too. Yet I look like the asshole when I say she's my hero. Christ Cutrone. Are the Shaft jokes helping? Probably not. True. All I'm trying to say is I love me some Cutrone and not just because she works in fashion and oh muh gaw she's such a bitch and L0Lz she doesn't wear makeupz!!!!1 Although she is pretty L0Lz. And what I wouldn't give to not have to wear makeup...

BLOKAY, I'm off my soap box now. What happened? What did I write? I blacked out. Let's get to the recrapping, shall we?

So New York Fashion Week is over but don't take that Xanax bottle away yet! London Fashion Week is just about to begin. The gals unwind from Fashion Week by going to People's Revolution local hangout, Sanctuary T, for drinks and end up not talking to each other and checking their email all night. Seriously you guys, Robyn has 1,421 emails. Kelly has like, 700-something. I currently have five. Four are from Twitter and one is from Shop PBS...so there's that.

Before Kelly, Robyn and Emily can zoom off to London for Fashion Week, they have to get through a Greg Alterman/Alternative Apparel press event in what I can only assume was the Hampton's. They kept nondescriptly saying the event was "out of town," but never mentioned what town it was in. This, frankly, was a welcomed change from Real Housewives of New York City where they nonchalantly toss the word "Hampton's" around like Rip Taylor at a confetti convention. The event was basically an outdoor dinner party/schmooze fest. Kelly had her traditional Native American Mingling Headdress on and the party was well attended and an overall success. You know, if you ignore the fact that Intern Elida and Stephanie Vorhees got Sorority-Crush-Party-style-drunk and Elida's friends snuck in, stole booze from the venue and landed themselves (and the event) on Page Six. HAHAHA ohhhhh day drinking in the hot summer sun. You make us do crazy things. Like buy yourself devil horns at Ren Fest, in my case. What? I digress. Kelly and the gang are pretty peeved about the entire situation. I mean, is it too much to ask your employees to "hold your liquor, keep your dress on and get through?" Kelly asks. No, Ms. Cutrone. I think not. (Says the girl who was once so busy the day of a work event she didn't eat anything and got so wasted off two glasses of wine she told Boss #1 the story of how she lost her virginity...God damnit.)

Things don't get much better once back in the office. Stephanie Vorhees still doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground, the assistants are too busy looking like they've take a shower that week to be productive, nobody knows how to delegate tasks and the printer breaks again. This, however, serve as good bonding time for Andrew M. and Andrew S. who although from different spectrums of the Homo Rainbow are joined in their mutual hatred for these "boxes of plastic that we rely on." MODERN TECHNOLOGY IS SO NOT AVANTE-GARDE, YOU GUYS. Unlike the Eddie Bauer leather belt wrapped around Andrew M.'s neck for a large portion of the episode. Oh and we also learn that Andrew S. has Britney Spears tattoos. Specifically, he has "stronger than yesterday" on one forearm and "now there's nothing but my way," on the other. Which I totally get because I have "If You Have to Cry" on one boob and "Go Outside" on the other.

Unfortunately things get so tense in the office that Robyn and Emily decide it's time to fire Elida for being a dirty, drunken whore. (In so many words.) Kell is kind of bummed about it though because her daughter Ava is "friends" with Elida, which I think means they giggle and eat Swedish fish together. I can do that! I like Swedish fish. And little kids. (HAHAHAHHA...I couldn't even write that with a straight face.) Rob-Rob and Em Dash call Elida up to the showroom and let her know that she's a boozer, a user and a loser, and losers don't work at People's Revolution so TTYN. It was incredibly awkward and only got more awkward when Elida had to go down to the shared workspace to get her shit while everyone just kind of stared at her like "........sucks." I'd feel sorry for her if she didn't look and sound like That Bitch You Went to Jew Camp With. This whole mishigoss puts the fear of god into Stephanie Vorhees that soon she'll be the sad sack of Frederic Fekkai hair product and bold statement jewelry walking out the door, so she decides to beat Robyn and Emily to the punch and essentially fires herself. "Look. I know I'm going to get fired anyway, so I'm going to make a list of everything that needs to get done," she tells Emily. Emily and Robyn high-five, Skinner does a happy dance and Andrew S. slinks around the office singing I'm a Slave 4 U with an honest-to-god boa constrictor wrapped around his young, tan, nubile body. (God. What if?)

The Holy Trinity leaves the next day for London and Andrew M. and Skinner are left to run the show at home—two men down. A task they handle with all the grace and poise of a fat kid ice skating for the first time. Skinner deals with the stress by shoving an entire bakery in her mouth, Andrew M. tightens his neck-belt a few more notches and Andrew S. cries and cries and cries the bronzer right off his face. But like, literally. It causes Skinner to crack her shit up and it's kind of adorable and solidifies the fact that she's my new best friend. Oh you didn't hear, Skinner? Yeah. Wake up bitch, you're my new best friend. Let's go shopping for under-eye concealer and bitch about our jobs. I'm having so much fun already.

The kids decide that there's just too much work to be done and not enough people to do it, so Andrew M. interviews a series of shiny young things to be the new assistant. In the end he goes with a pretty black girl girl with blunt-cut bangs named Virginia, a choice I also would have made, so I can't really blame him when 20 minutes after giving her the job they find her Twitter page a-covered in juicy Bravo secrets. THAT BITCH! Skinner immediately calls her back and lets her know thanks, but no thanks. #Fired #Sucks2Bu #KBAI

On the other side of the pond, Kelly, Robyn and Emily meet up with Kelly's ex-lover and Ava's father, the incredibly Italian and sextatious Ilario Calvo. Me-ow, sister. Aces 10! Kelly and crew are in charge of handling the American press for the House of Holland show at Guildhall Cathedral. It's at this point I immediately forget Stephanie Skinner and Ilario ever existed because I am all about Henry Holland. Because, WOW. "He's like Jimmy Stuart meets Dennis the Menace in a bow tie," Kelly explains. As I said to Helena, "I WANT TO STARE AT HIM FOREVER." And as she said back, "The problem with hugging him is it would mean not looking at him!" Official Fantasy Celebrity Hot Tub Party: Kelly Cutrone, Henry Holland, Mo Rocca, Bob Villa and me. BAM!

DVR BUSTER! Andrew S. has a blind date—his first in six months!—which he prepares for by whitening his teeth, getting a hair cut and going tanning. "People are pale right before they die," Andrew explains, "Healthy people are tan." I can't help but agree with him as I hide my translucently pale skin behind the heavy protection of my coffin door as the television's blinding light rays fill the darkness of my apartment. Hissssssssssss!

Throughout the day, I frequently find myself pondering the same two questions over and over again: 1.) Why am I so awkward? and 2.) Why can't there be just one fashion show where seat crashers don't show up and ruin everything? AM I RIGHT?! Kelly had to lay some serious smack down at the House of Holland show when seat crashers show up and steal some precious American Press real estate. It's empowering. The show itself was Holland-tastic, what with the hot DeGlow lace dresses worn sans bra and black shirts with the words BLUE, GREEN, YELLOW etc. screen-printed in white. Blasting bare nips at the Lord and semantics jokes?! As per my notes: Henry Holland, I want to have all sorts of sex with you.

Back in the office, Andrew M. decides he and Skinner have been working too hard and deserve to head over to Sanctuary T to get a drink with some friends. Skinner, however, is paralyzed with fear that one of the Holy Trinity will call while they're out and she'll miss it and get fired and not be able to pay her rent and all of this will have been for naught and UGHH, Andrew S.! I said I don't want one of your Atavan!!!!1 Andrew M. assures her that if someone calls they'll just say she was at the deli and he had explosive diarrhea and it won't be a big deal. From someone who is actually frequently either at the deli or in the bathroom with explosive diarrhea, I agree, they will be fine. The two scamper off to Sanctuary where they finally have time to unwind and relax. "I was drinking wine, Skinner put on lip gloss―we have made leaps and bounds!" says Andrew.

A job well done and cheerio!

Recap Tuesday: Kell on Earth is Heaven on Earth (META!)

Last night Kell on Earth premiered on Bravo, and it did NOT disappoint. Lord have mercy, Kelly Cutrone is something else. After helping LC out on The Hills and Whitney Port on The City, the world has finally wised up and given her her own show. And luckily for us, Kell on Earth has infinitely less: staring, stock footage, and emo music and more usage of the words: "Fuck" "fashion" and "export".

And real people. Not fake, done up for television, "look at us we're pretty and we work here" employees (Olivia Palerms, we're looking at you). The first shots we get of the whole People's Revolution group is at a company meeting where Kelly talked about fashion or something that I couldn't pay attention to BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY FASHION CONUNDRUMS IN ONE ROOM. Leaving Kelly out of this, because she can get away with wearing a tribal caftan and no makeup, I counted: a mesh top, a Canadian tuxedo, rumpled formal shorts (or possibly a romper), and to top it all off, Kelly's business partner Robyn or "Snow White with razor blades" wore this lovely ill-fitting denim...

romper maybe? possibly strapless minidress? I'm not sure but it makes her looks like Saggy McWhiteTrash. Let's just call it a denim piece.

I'm not quite sure exactly what went on plotwise for the first 10 minutes of the show because I was 100% gawking at the terrible clothing being jammed down my gullet. Specifically Andrew M (but more on him in a minute). I did, however, glean that Kelly does not let anyone cry in the office, because the fashion industry is not nice and we can't throw pity parties whenever someone makes you feel bad. Sound advice. Most likely foreshadowing. But foreshadowing for what?

Anyway, let's meet Kelly's minions.

First there are her business partners Robyn (of ill-fitting denim number fame) and Emily (of owning the fact that she's a bitch within the first thirty seconds of this show fame because we can't have a reality TV show without that type of girl.) Aside from Emily's mini-intro at the beginning of the episode, we don't see much of her.

Robyn, however, we find out lives and works in the People's Revolution building (just like Kelly!) but unlike Ms. Cutrone, Robyn lives in the backroom of a showroom because she shadily had to move out of one apartment and didn't have time to find a new one. I wonder how that conversation was broached at work when it was decided she would live there. "Here's that fax you wanted. By the way, 5th floor showroom, mind if I put a futon in there? Nope? Great, I'll be up there macking on Lean Cuisines and watching Designing Women if you need me." This might explain why at some points she looks done up and other times she's lounging around work in track pants. I guess when you're office is your house, you kind of veg out alot?

Then there's Stephanie Skinner, but I can't hear anything but Spitter when she is referred to on screen. Spitter was Kelly's assistant but has just been promoted and is trying to "run with the big wolves" or something other mixed metaphor. She's basically an inoffensive quasi-hipster, except for when she channels Courtney Love at her most drugged out.

That picture gives me nightmares. Anyway, she's just sitting on a rainbow, trying to make it if she can. But she doesn't think she can. But she will not resort to taking Ativan to help her focus. So I guess she's not channeling C.Love?

Andrew M. What can we say about Andrew M? Frankly, I respect the hell out of Kelly for hiring him specifically because he wasn't a perky, blonde girl looking to get into the fashion business. But he is a sartorial...something. Nightmare comes to mind, but I'm borderline fascinated by him. In the first hour of this series, he has worn:

LOTS of black mesh,

An asymmetrical shirt which, in my notes I just wrote: OMG WHAT?! ONE SLEEVE MAN SHIRT?! because I could not wrap my head around it. But then he wore a floor-length sequined gown for the David Delfin show

as well as a flannel shirt. And I realized that the asymmetric shirt probably wasn't bought in the men's section.

And finally a less-offensive, but still blinding neon pink flashdance number.

(There are matching pants involved, which of course there are matching pants.)

Obvi he's gay, but I'm confused about whom he hopes to attract looking like a damn fool. Also I would throw up if my boss ever told me she was "actively looking for a sexual partner" for me even if that boss was Kelly Cutrone. I almost passed out the other day when I fumbled and told my boss I was extremely hungover because I had gotten blackout the night before. Forget about fishing for menfolk from our office window. (And who said Jersey Shore never taught anyone a lesson?) Blanyway, Andrew develops a crush on a model at the David Delfin show, and Kelly tries to hook it up, because she's kind of amazing. Unfortunately the model is already taken (obviously) WAMP WAMP. I'm not exactly a ten myself (I'd be generous and say I'm a solid 4) (Editor's note: BULL. SHIT. If I recall correctly, there was a flock of girls around Co-Blogger Chris at Jäger Ball telling him he could be a "Ralph Lauren model" versus the AN person who told me I was a quote, "7 or 8, I guess." So don't start with me, Chris. Don't start. Because I'll finish it. And it will involve a mesh top.), so who am to judge, but I know enough to tell when someone is out of my league. And I'm not even wearing a sequined gown (today). I have a sinking feeling we're going to have to watch Andrew fumble around for a sex life at least three more times this season and I don't think I'm comfortable with that.

There are some minor characters who don't really matter much right now and they are:

Stephanie V who loves the color yellow and tried to manufacture some drama about the showroom setup for David Delfin which is far too boring to get into. #Dramafail.

Andrew S who is like an Oompa Loompa version of Barry Manilow in a pill-pushing, lisp-talking, homosexual package.

Ava, who is Kelly's daughter and is 7 yrs old, loves peace signs, hearts, and is a diva about where she sits for fashion shows. I found the scenes where Kelly was being a mom 110% adorable, and the fact that she was baking for Ava made me love Kelly a little more, if that's possible.

and Nana, who is Kelly's personal Aunt Jemima.

Enough small talk: it's fashion time.

So that lame showroom scuffle mentioned above was the segue into the Fashion #1: David Delfin show (of Andrew's sequined dress fame). I don't know what to say about the show, because Kelly and everyone else oh-faced about Delfin's designs but I just saw alot of seafoam green and simple lines. I guess that's the point? To make me think about my friend Casie's old Nokia cell phone? The one thing I can say that I loved was the fringe the models walked through to enter/exit the runway. I would pay good money to make every door I ever walk through again just a mess of fringe like that. (At least I hope it was fringe and not paper, because that'd give you a shitload of papercuts, walking through that shit twice.)

Fashion #2 was the much talked about Chado Ralph Rucci show. I cannot tell you how long it took me to figure out what everyone was saying because no one on this show can talk slow or enunciate, so I kept hearing a different name each time. Anyway, the whole second half of this episode focused on the Chateau Fallucci show and if someone was checking the Chad Ho Ralguchey RSVP voicemails and if the seating chart for Charro Con Smoochie was done yet. They mentioned that damn seating chart more times than I can count (thank god this isn't a DGF or I would have died a million times over drinking every time they said "seating chart").

Drama time:

This episode was kind of like a Fashion Week primer for anyone who hasn't ever seen Project Runway, America's Next Top Model, Ugly Betty, The Hills, The City or any other show tangentially related to fashion. And the main drama centered around the Chat O'Paluchy RSVP list and seating chart. And basically, Spitter could not handle the RSVPs on her own, she she tried to delegate to some of the underlings, who fucked it all up. No one was checking the voicemail, RSVPs were being doubled, random people were calling in and RSVPing yes to try and bust in on the show (which is a semi-brilliant idea, and I bet that's worked in the past). Basically it was a whole mess of problems. And to top it all off, Spitter isn't quite familiar with how to use Microsoft Excel (I'm assuming since the word "export" got thrown around an awful lot whilst dealing with Tech Support) and couldn't print the list to give to the designer. Needless to say she flips out (because you know tech support was in India and couldn't give her the answers she needed) and she has a chat with Andrew M, who doesn't stop picking at the mesh in his armpit the entire conversation, which is really distracting for me, and I'm sure for Spitter. Maybe he took her mind of her problems by putting it on his armpit instead? In which case, man's a genius. But I think he was just airing out his pits. Which, gross and you're wearing mesh. Two strikes. The episode ends with an overly dramatic "To be continued..." when Kelly realizes the problem is technical and out of her staff's hands. What is going to happen next? I don't know, but I'm excited

Other things happened (including a visit from a faux-lebrity whose name I'm not even going to write because if she knows the number of NY Post covers she's been on for being a whore, then you know she Googles herself as well and I'm not giving her the satisfaction) but they weren't that spectacular. Also, Bravo has this annoying habit of putting a 30-45 second long clip of the show between commercials, so when you're DVRing you see it and think "OH SHIT! It's back!" only to realize it's just a mildly humorous clip that was borderline unnecessary. This week, we see that Kelly pays people to come and do her eyebrows and nails in the office because she's so busy she can't leave. Isn't that wacky? Thanks, Bravo. I'll charge my DVR repair to you, if you don't mind.

So there you have it, Kell on Earth. I actually could enjoy recrapping this (unlike The City which was vapid to the extreme). Frankly, I just want to see Kelly Cutrone tell someone they are Sicilian dead to her. I'll stick with.