The book I allude to in yesterday's Project Runway Liveblog is The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton. If you see it in the bookstore, even if it is in the remaindered pile, run away! Run away very quickly with your eyes closed, perhaps knocking down bookshelves in your path, to punish the bookseller for displaying such a horrible, horrible book. You should also do this if you see Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All and She's Come Undone.

Don't say I didn't warn you, y'all.

Project Runway: Wrestling Mania. Or maybe it's Jump-the-Shark Mania? It may just be that I'm in a terrible mood because the novel I finished reading 15 minutes ago was resplendent in its worthlessness to humanity.

Ricky pretends like he's not going to stick with his model, but he does. His acting skills are on par with his design skills.

Speaking of resplendent, heeeere's Tim! Time for a field trip.

Omen: We hear shrieks from within the Runway room, and thunder booms outside my window. The door opens and it's a six woman wrestling free-for-all. It's the WWE Divas. Tim rings the bell, climbs into the ring (with difficulty). The ladies introduce themselves and their personal styles. Ricky chooses Layla; Chris chooses Maria; Jillian chooses Michelle; Christian chooses Crystal; Sweet P chooses Candace; Rami chooses Torrie. They are given thirty minutes to consult with their Diva, and then they get 30 minutes and a hundred bucks to spend at (wait for it…) Spandex House! Thank you, Spandex House!

Chris says they're designing “stripper tranny-wear.” SP, Rami, and Jillian look terrified. They'll work till tonight and all day tomorrow. Rami is, no surprise, draping his hot-pink spandex.

DAY TWO: Sweet P is thinking “Pin-up Girl.” Jillian is making a bra top and short-shorts. Chris is going for “caged jungle animal.” SP and Christian arm wrestle; SP cheats. They hug.

In come the Divas for fittings. Chris's is delighted. SP's is not. Tim's concerned about Ricky's choice of orange. Christian's Diva loves the outfit and proposes marriage to him.

SP, Chris, and Christian discuss their wrestling alter-egos in a conversation too stupid for public consumption.

Tim's concerned about Rami's choice of hot pink. Dude, there's 45 minutes left in the last day. What can he do?

Tim thinks SP's is “Eva Gabor in Green Acres.” SP's in tears at the sewing machine.

RUNWAY SHOW-DAY:

SP thinks she's out, which means she isn't. Candace is happier than expected. Ricky's outfit is an orange bathing suit. Jillian's Diva is thrilled, though Jillian is, as always, the last one out the door.

Heidi looks like her dress came from Sparkly Spandex Haus.

The bottom half of Jillian's shorts is missing. Chris wishes he could wear the outfit he made. The judges look charmed by Sweet P's. Rami's is gross and makes his Diva look like a blonde Mack truck.

With all the Divas on the runway, Michael Kors feels “like the Pope at a sex club.” They hate Rami's; they like Christian's and Jillian's. Candace turns on SP on the runway.

They LOVE Chris's. “Looks expensive.”

Nina likes Ricky's as a bathing suit but they all hate the cover-up. They all leave the runway and the judges dish.

Heidi: Ricky missed the boat.

Kors: The tunic looked like a disco haircutting smock.

They bitch about Rami and SP, too.

My prediction: Chris to win, Ricky to lose.

What happened: Chris wins! Ricky loses! No more stoopid hats. Whoot! Christian's all like, “finally!”

They bit

I was getting a drink of water at the gym when an elderly lady walked in. At first I thought she'd suffered a terrible fall, but at second look I realized, she's just been to church.

Monstro and I went to the gym for the first time in FOREVER today — I kept myself away while I had the cough, for fear my workout neighbors might catch consumption. I rode the recumbent bike for 20 minutes. Then I came home and napped for two hours. I'm wondering which activity burned more calories.

So, didja vote? I did. It was pouring down rain but I braved the wet for democracy. (Ron Paul! Ron Paul! Ron Paul!) I felt bad for the people waving candidate signs. What a miserable day to be a Hillary supporter. 🙂

Tonight we are going to a Fat Tuesday pancake dinner, complete with a pancake race! This is where you race around a course while wearing an apron, holding a frying pan, and flipping a pancake. If you drop your pancake on the ground, you're out of the running. Monstro is going to make some goopy, rich, lobster-egg-gratin thingy. Mmmm….

…guess we shoulda had Bible study, after all.

OK, so the Super Bowl is tonight, and I'm scared to watch it. See, ever since Monstro and I moved to Massachusetts, the sports teams in the area have broken records and won world championships. They have done this all without me; I have yet to watch a complete game of ANYTHING since we moved here, and Monstro would rather read a book. So now, if I tune in to the Super Bowl, will I jinx our hometown team?

I'd figured this point was moot; we'd planned to go to Bible study tonight — I'm facilitating it this year, we're doing Disciple III — but last night, those plans were derailed when our pastor called. And when your pastor calls at 8:00 Saturday night to ask, “are we having Disciple tomorrow, or cancelling it so we can all watch the Patriots?” it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he's actually saying is “I won't be there, and neither will anyone else, so let's not have it.”

I'd planned to go to church this morning to do a straw poll of our study-group, to see if anyone wanted to have it, but after being up half the night, uh, burning the candle at both ends after eating something that didn't agree with me, I wasn't up for it. I called the office and spoke to a member of the choir, who said she'd announce the cancellation.

Monstro had to go to a post-church seminar, though, and while there one of the women from our group approached him, saying, “So… we've been pre-empted!”

The game I'm most excited about today is the Animal Planet Puppy Bowl, and particularly the Kitty Half-Time Show. Great stuff. Bark bark! Meow!!! It starts at 3:00 Eastern time and I think will be re-run for most of the day. Motormouth says, check it out.

Monstro's birthday is Thursday so he's walking around asking everybody if he's middle aged. We're not answering him. Our game group met last night — the woman who brought dinner included a homemade carrot cake (with homemade cream-cheese frosting) with the legend “All Hail the Game Master.” Then I brought out his birthday present from me (a new hard drive, specifically for gaming), from the boy (Crysis), and his Valentine's gift (two gigs of RAM), and his anniversary present (a new fast-as-lightening video card with another 512 MB of on-board RAM). Kind of stinks that now he won't have anything to open on his b'day, Valentine's Day, or our anniversary, but his buddy is a Dell consultant and offered to do the installs for free, and I couldn't see dragging Russ over three times.

So, happy early birthday, sweetheart. Of course, now I won't see him for a month, as he'll be holed up in his study, killing baddies.

So I was driving to the health center the other day to make sure my cough wasn't pneumonia (it's not), and when I pulled off the highway I was stopped at a light and surveyed the following scene: Hillary Clinton supporters standing in the median of Highway 9, waving their red-white-and-blue “Hillary” signs and smiling, smiling, smiling. Across the street from them stood another flock of Hillary followers, waving similar signage and wearing similar smiles.

And between the two groups of supporters, in the middle lane, was a guy in a car that had crapped out. He had his hazard lights on and was on his cell phone, presumably to Triple-A.

And not one of the Hillary supporters thought, “Hey, we should help that guy out, or at least push his car out of the road so that nobody rear-ends him.” They were all about the sign waving, and the smiling, but when it came to taking an action that would make a positive difference in somebody's life? Nada.

And I thought, If this isn't the perfect metaphor for Hillary Clinton's political career, I don't know what is.