Oh, God Almighty, I hate being a freelance journalist sometimes. The days can just drag on and on, writing assignment after (all too often tedious) assignment, all in an effort to eke out some sort of miserable living. Of course, there are the bright moments of the day to look forward to, like sitting down for a relaxing hour on the couch with your wonderfully supportive girlfriend to watch something brainless and entertaining like, say, Project Runway. Except we had Indian for dinner tonight, which means my stomach was doing Olympic-grade somersaults all through the final challenge that would decide what three designers were going to Bryant Park for Fashion Week.

And what was that final challenge trying to distract me from my gastrointestinal gymnastics performance? Well, the final five still around in the competition, Christian, Rami, Jillian, Chris, and Sweet P, were hauled on up to the Upper East Side and the Metropolitan Museum of Art where they were challenged to create a look inspired by a piece of art taken from either the Greek and Roman Sculpture Courtyard, the European Painting Wing, or the Temple of Dendur.

Guess who chose the Statue of Aphrodite? Yep, Rami. This guy has so much talent, and he’s stuck in a draping rut. I’m not even confident he can do something that doesn’t require draping. Maybe that’s why he’s always falling back on it, and so obstinately refuses to change despite the judges’ pleas.

With a $300 budget, everyone went to work, but it didn’t take long for the challenge’s obvious winner to make himself heard. Christian took a Spanish painting of a male noble with puffed-out sleeves and turned it into an avant-garde, androgynous, multi-piece outfit that was not only somehow practical, but also came with a friggin’ hat!

You had to feel bad for Sweet P, though. The poor girl should’ve never survived this long, so watching her pine for Bryant Park like it was a possibility was just painfully tragic. Worse, her model had some kind of undisclosed family emergency that kept her from showing up for a fitting until, like, ten o’clock at night. The fact that the producers never bothered to fix her disadvantage just shows they were as interested in seeing her move on as the rest of America. Hell, they probably got an early look at the dress that got her kicked off; it looked like a rainbow had vomited all over a dress.

By the time the models hit the runway, I had confessed to my girlfriend that a Weinstein Company employee had told me who the final three designers were: Christian, Jillian, and Rami. However, apparently I was messed with because it soon turned out that the judges had lost patience with Rami’s predictable draping and actually preferred Chris's dazzling, albeit familiar design – which was said to belong on France’s haute couture runways.

With Rami and Chris’ head on the chopping blocks, Heidi Klum announced, “Chris, you’re in. Rami, you’re in.”

Both? How the hell is this possible? Well, don’t get too excited. Heidi quickly explained the split decision would be decided before Bryant Park; both Rami and Chris would create their collections, but only one would be chosen to hit the runway. Bet that will help the ratings!

Anyways, I’ve got to go cry now. This Indian is just too much to deal with.

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