YOUR DESIGN JUST FLEW A PLANE INTO THE WORLD TRADE CENTER.
*
For some reason or other, I decided to start watching some of Bravo's reality shows, even though I generally hate reality TV and have never watched it because I think it's a waste of time. (Actually viewing it has not done much to change my opinion on that matter, either.) Tonight was the second episode of this season's Top Design.
I’m not sure who decided to air the episode where the designers had to interior design a “fallout shelter” at 10PM on September 10, but I think it was tacky. (So is the episode title “Artsy Bunker,” but complaining about bad puns in reality show titles is like complaining about dry mouth after doing four lines of cocaine. You want the goods, you roll with the punches.)
What’s the opposite of “bravo”? That’s the word I want to use to describe Bravo’s decision on this matter, since pretty much anyone who Tivo’d this show will be watching it on September 11. Not really the day you want to watch a bunch of people decorating a room they have to live in if the world succumbs to nuclear holocaust.
Not awesome.
Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t watch reality shows on Bravo to think about the apocalypse. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the apocalypse in the right time and place. Children of Men, great movie. But there's a reason they didn't turn it into a Bravo reality show.
Maybe they can also run Schindler’s List during Hanukkah. Maybe next week the designers can decorate an attic space to hide from the Gestapo. Or whatever they call that room they perform lethal injections in. Or a coffin.
I’m also not sure, if Armageddon comes, anyone is going to care if the tile matches the wallpaper.
As far as I know, nobody on Project Runway had to design the outfit they want to be buried in. Nobody on Top Chef is asked to cook the last meal they’ll ever eat. The contestants on Make Me A Supermodel were not required to walk down the runway as if they were being taken to the guillotine. Tabitha’s Salon Takeover has yet to see Tabitha bitch out a mortician for having corpses’ hair in the sink. It’s not called the Rachel Zoe Manhattan Project. So why is Top Design so morbid?
In a Michael Bay movie, sure. Apocalypse away! On a channel called Bravo? No, thank you. Reality TV is stupid by nature. It is not meant to make you think, or feel ANYthing. It is disposable. Mindless. Your eyes are meant to glaze over, your brain is meant to shut down on all functions except those mandatory to stay alive. This is why there is (as of yet) no show entitled America’s Next Top Suicide Bomber. We really just don’t want to go there.
There’s something rather inappropriate about the judges harping on the fact that there was “random fruit in the bowls” in one room, or commenting that some baskets on the wall “totally brought the whole thing down.” Did they really? Because I think what brings it down is that it’s the END OF THE FUCKING WORLD. Like, maybe the millions of charred bodies littering the street upstairs are more of a downer than the bookshelf that “divides the room.” I’m pretty sure that these bunkers are not going to stay in such pristine condition once the world actually ends, anyway. Shouldn’t we be more concerned about maybe having some extra drinking water to last us for the next 50 years? No? Okay.
And I don’t care how many candles you light. You can never describe a bomb shelter as “zen.”
As one girl not-so-eloquently explained, “I want it to be a room that, even if a bomb wasn’t coming, you could go sit down there and chillax.” (She then proceeded to explain that “chillax” was a combination of “chill” and “relax.” REALLY??) And while I am complaining about contestants being stupid, even if it isn’t really relevant, I must take a moment to point that Rick Schroder’s wife keeps mentioning that Rick Schroder is her husband even though she keeps saying she has come onto the show so she can stop being referred to as Rick Schroder’s wife. Even when it has nothing to do with what she's trying to say. From what I've gathered, she basically wants to design pretty rooms “because Rick Schroder is my husband.” If you think I have just mentioned Rich Schroder too many times, well, it’s still fewer times than she has.
So in the future, Bravo, please refrain from any and all episodes where contestants are designing something that involves the demise of millions of men, women, and children across the globe. It was already gloomy enough that Top Design’s version of “You’re out” is “We cannot live with your design.” I mean, wow. That’s dramatic. Has someone’s poor interior decorating really forced the judges to consider a group suicide? Why stop there? If you really want to make contestants feel as guilty as possible about the efforts they’ve made, I suggest the following alternative catchphrases:
“Your design makes me want to stick my head in an oven."
“After viewing your design, the other judges and I have decided to don Nikes and drink poisoned Kool-Aid.”
"Your design just gave me ovarian cancer."
“My Doctor just prescribed Paxil to help me get over your design.”
“Thanks to your design, somewhere in the world a small puppy was just hit by a bus.”
“Your design is Lucifer himself.”
"I once had a miscarriage. It was your design's fault."
“Your design is responsible for the AIDS epidemic in Africa.”
"Your design raped me. Twice."
"Fuck you."
“Your design is Miley Cyrus.”
For some reason or other, I decided to start watching some of Bravo's reality shows, even though I generally hate reality TV and have never watched it because I think it's a waste of time. (Actually viewing it has not done much to change my opinion on that matter, either.) Tonight was the second episode of this season's Top Design.
I’m not sure who decided to air the episode where the designers had to interior design a “fallout shelter” at 10PM on September 10, but I think it was tacky. (So is the episode title “Artsy Bunker,” but complaining about bad puns in reality show titles is like complaining about dry mouth after doing four lines of cocaine. You want the goods, you roll with the punches.)
What’s the opposite of “bravo”? That’s the word I want to use to describe Bravo’s decision on this matter, since pretty much anyone who Tivo’d this show will be watching it on September 11. Not really the day you want to watch a bunch of people decorating a room they have to live in if the world succumbs to nuclear holocaust.
Not awesome.
Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t watch reality shows on Bravo to think about the apocalypse. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the apocalypse in the right time and place. Children of Men, great movie. But there's a reason they didn't turn it into a Bravo reality show.
Maybe they can also run Schindler’s List during Hanukkah. Maybe next week the designers can decorate an attic space to hide from the Gestapo. Or whatever they call that room they perform lethal injections in. Or a coffin.
I’m also not sure, if Armageddon comes, anyone is going to care if the tile matches the wallpaper.
As far as I know, nobody on Project Runway had to design the outfit they want to be buried in. Nobody on Top Chef is asked to cook the last meal they’ll ever eat. The contestants on Make Me A Supermodel were not required to walk down the runway as if they were being taken to the guillotine. Tabitha’s Salon Takeover has yet to see Tabitha bitch out a mortician for having corpses’ hair in the sink. It’s not called the Rachel Zoe Manhattan Project. So why is Top Design so morbid?
In a Michael Bay movie, sure. Apocalypse away! On a channel called Bravo? No, thank you. Reality TV is stupid by nature. It is not meant to make you think, or feel ANYthing. It is disposable. Mindless. Your eyes are meant to glaze over, your brain is meant to shut down on all functions except those mandatory to stay alive. This is why there is (as of yet) no show entitled America’s Next Top Suicide Bomber. We really just don’t want to go there.
There’s something rather inappropriate about the judges harping on the fact that there was “random fruit in the bowls” in one room, or commenting that some baskets on the wall “totally brought the whole thing down.” Did they really? Because I think what brings it down is that it’s the END OF THE FUCKING WORLD. Like, maybe the millions of charred bodies littering the street upstairs are more of a downer than the bookshelf that “divides the room.” I’m pretty sure that these bunkers are not going to stay in such pristine condition once the world actually ends, anyway. Shouldn’t we be more concerned about maybe having some extra drinking water to last us for the next 50 years? No? Okay.
And I don’t care how many candles you light. You can never describe a bomb shelter as “zen.”
As one girl not-so-eloquently explained, “I want it to be a room that, even if a bomb wasn’t coming, you could go sit down there and chillax.” (She then proceeded to explain that “chillax” was a combination of “chill” and “relax.” REALLY??) And while I am complaining about contestants being stupid, even if it isn’t really relevant, I must take a moment to point that Rick Schroder’s wife keeps mentioning that Rick Schroder is her husband even though she keeps saying she has come onto the show so she can stop being referred to as Rick Schroder’s wife. Even when it has nothing to do with what she's trying to say. From what I've gathered, she basically wants to design pretty rooms “because Rick Schroder is my husband.” If you think I have just mentioned Rich Schroder too many times, well, it’s still fewer times than she has.
So in the future, Bravo, please refrain from any and all episodes where contestants are designing something that involves the demise of millions of men, women, and children across the globe. It was already gloomy enough that Top Design’s version of “You’re out” is “We cannot live with your design.” I mean, wow. That’s dramatic. Has someone’s poor interior decorating really forced the judges to consider a group suicide? Why stop there? If you really want to make contestants feel as guilty as possible about the efforts they’ve made, I suggest the following alternative catchphrases:
“Your design makes me want to stick my head in an oven."
“After viewing your design, the other judges and I have decided to don Nikes and drink poisoned Kool-Aid.”
"Your design just gave me ovarian cancer."
“My Doctor just prescribed Paxil to help me get over your design.”
“Thanks to your design, somewhere in the world a small puppy was just hit by a bus.”
“Your design is Lucifer himself.”
"I once had a miscarriage. It was your design's fault."
“Your design is responsible for the AIDS epidemic in Africa.”
"Your design raped me. Twice."
"Fuck you."
“Your design is Miley Cyrus.”