Project Football
I have two smart, pretty, erudite friends who've both recently alluded to watching Project Runway.
I've never seen the show, but from what I can gleen from the commercials, Heidi Klum, a mini-skirted, impossibly wispy blonde with stunningly chiseled features, tortures burgeoning fashion designers until one of them screws up sufficiently to be bounced from the show by her panel of experts.
In a parallel universe, football season started last Sunday, and when I was listening to Al Michaels go on-and-on-and-on about how happy he was for the interminably blathering John Madden to have been inducted into the Hall of Fame, I thought about those two friends.
What on earth did we have in common?
I am in a slight funk from Super Bowl to the pre-season opening game. When football season starts, I ascend from my dour mood, and look forward to seeing if Peyton and Eli are going to choke at the end of the season, whether my favorite coach (Tony Dungee) will win more games than my least favorite coach (the evil Bill Parcells), and whether T.O. is going to pull himself together and play like the egotistical diamond-studded running back he is. Joy!
Is there any common ground between the NFL and Project Runway?
I doubt if either of these two aforementioned friends would get pissed off if you talked during their show. Most of the men, I'm assuming, whom they are watching are gay. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) The rules are slippery...who says what's good fashion? Who's the Commissioner?
My love of football started in earnest when I lived in Auburn, California, where I moved as a particularly bad love story was slamming its door.
I made friends with the Chief Loan Officer at the bank where I worked, and little by little, endeared myself to him, mostly because I caught him making out with one of the girls in Accounting, and he was nervous I'd tell on him and ruin his illustrious career at Placer Savings.
So, I was included in the Winnebago, packed full of guys and beer and bad food, and we went to see the Raiders.
The Raiders were monsters. They always won. It was like watching the marauders in Braveheart. Challengers were reguarly carried off the field with career ending injuries. I fell in love with Kenny "the Snake" Stabler and Lyle Alzado.
Kenny, however, loved Carol Doda, and I, being less well-endowed, had to love him from afar.
I became a rabid football fan, as only a Raider-lover can.
The Raiders played in the pre-season opener, and they sucked. They're a far cry from the monsters they were when John Madden was their coach, and their ridiculous Elvis-sunglass-wearing owner Al Davis was less a caricature of himself. But it's early in the season. Anything can happen.
Maybe that' s what Project Runway and the NFL have in common.
Hope springs eternal in bitchy fashion and gladiator sport.
I've never seen the show, but from what I can gleen from the commercials, Heidi Klum, a mini-skirted, impossibly wispy blonde with stunningly chiseled features, tortures burgeoning fashion designers until one of them screws up sufficiently to be bounced from the show by her panel of experts.
In a parallel universe, football season started last Sunday, and when I was listening to Al Michaels go on-and-on-and-on about how happy he was for the interminably blathering John Madden to have been inducted into the Hall of Fame, I thought about those two friends.
What on earth did we have in common?
I am in a slight funk from Super Bowl to the pre-season opening game. When football season starts, I ascend from my dour mood, and look forward to seeing if Peyton and Eli are going to choke at the end of the season, whether my favorite coach (Tony Dungee) will win more games than my least favorite coach (the evil Bill Parcells), and whether T.O. is going to pull himself together and play like the egotistical diamond-studded running back he is. Joy!
Is there any common ground between the NFL and Project Runway?
I doubt if either of these two aforementioned friends would get pissed off if you talked during their show. Most of the men, I'm assuming, whom they are watching are gay. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) The rules are slippery...who says what's good fashion? Who's the Commissioner?
My love of football started in earnest when I lived in Auburn, California, where I moved as a particularly bad love story was slamming its door.
I made friends with the Chief Loan Officer at the bank where I worked, and little by little, endeared myself to him, mostly because I caught him making out with one of the girls in Accounting, and he was nervous I'd tell on him and ruin his illustrious career at Placer Savings.
So, I was included in the Winnebago, packed full of guys and beer and bad food, and we went to see the Raiders.
The Raiders were monsters. They always won. It was like watching the marauders in Braveheart. Challengers were reguarly carried off the field with career ending injuries. I fell in love with Kenny "the Snake" Stabler and Lyle Alzado.
Kenny, however, loved Carol Doda, and I, being less well-endowed, had to love him from afar.
I became a rabid football fan, as only a Raider-lover can.
The Raiders played in the pre-season opener, and they sucked. They're a far cry from the monsters they were when John Madden was their coach, and their ridiculous Elvis-sunglass-wearing owner Al Davis was less a caricature of himself. But it's early in the season. Anything can happen.
Maybe that' s what Project Runway and the NFL have in common.
Hope springs eternal in bitchy fashion and gladiator sport.
posted by Kitty O'Keefe at 12:54 PM
2 Comments:
Thinking is optional and talking is definitely not allowed during Project Runway. BUT, Project Runway can be paused while you blather, if you must. Yes, you could do the same with your game and catch up with the live broadcast during one of those breaks they take while someone is being carried off the field, but you probably don't allow THAT either.
Do you stand up and cheer when your favorite designer escapes disaster (or when your least favorite is banished)? Are others endouraged to do the same?
Post a Comment
<< Home