My newest guilty pleasure besides, you know, breathing and sweet tea, is Project Runway. Specifically, Tim Gunn. I love him. I want him to be my special, gay uncle who lives in my closet and hands me an outfit every morning. I want to meet him for lunches at trendy bistros and talk about fashion being symbollic of my internal state and gossip about how Heidi Klum TRULY is as bitchy as she seems on television. I want to go shopping with him and simply stand back and watch as he, hip thrust to one side, arms crossed at the elbow, and pointer finger on his lower lip pronounces something fabulous or dreadful. I want him to perch on my kitchen counter and say things like, “My concern is that pasta has been done. You don’t want to re-invent the wheel” and, “that grilled cheese is. INCREDIBLE.“
Can I keep Tim Gunn in my closet?