I’m trying really hard not to think about work this week. Not that recapping “Project Runway” feels much like work …
Nevertheless! I’m off, and we’ve got a guest recapper. You may know her as Momaha-blogger Melissa Cruickshank, or you may know her from her funny comments on my “Project Runway” recaps. If you like her style, you should definitely check out her Momaha blog. Hopefully she won’t spend this entire recap whining about how April shouldn’t have gone home.
Take it away, Melissa!
Gretchen? Really? Nina and Michael have lost their minds.
I …

Blase Biga grew the largest pumpkin in Nebraska this year.
Again. He broke the state record. His own state record.
And he’s already thinking forward to next season, when he’ll undoubtedly . . .
You know what? Enough.
Could somebody please give this guy some competition?
Blase Biga is like a great athlete who never gets pushed. Like the only basketball player in the league who can dunk.
And I, as someone who enjoys the spectator sport of competitive pumpkin growing, would like a little more drama. (No offense, Blase.)
Think how much more exciting this year’s pumpkin would …

Liftetime. If you’d like me to keep watching a 90-minute episode about who’s going to make it to Fashion Week, do not — DO NOT — run a commercial at the 54-minute mark, SHOWING three designers at Fashion Week.

Seriously. This is the worst editing of all time. (In the history of reality fashion shows.)

But I’m kind of relieved to have something to be indignant about because otherwise I’d just be sitting here crying. This was the most heartbreaking episode of the season.

I’m pretty sure that David Sedaris thought I was trying to get off the phone with him Tuesday afternoon.

His publicity person had given me 15 minutes to talk to him, and I’d already wasted the first three trying to explain to the hotel operator that I wasn’t trying to reach an employee named David Sedaris, that he was a guest there.

Then I wasted another minute or two thanking him profusely for his time and apologizing for my existence …

David Sedaris doesn’t have to make public appearances.
He doesn’t have to spend weeks on the road, living out of hotels, trying almost every night to make people laugh.
No, he does all that because he wants to.
“I really love, in a childlike way — in a pathetic way — I love attention,” Sedaris said this week in a phone interview. “I love it.”
And so Sedaris, a ginormously successful author, has made speaking tours — reading tours, actually — a regular part of his life. He’ll be in Omaha Monday, reading at …

If you’ve only ever read David Sedaris, you don’t really understand how funny he is.
Even if his books make you laugh out loud.
Even if you’ve laughed so hard, sitting there alone with your book — up too late because you couldn’t put it down — that tears ran down your cheeks and you worried your husband might wake up and ask you, “What’s wrong, why are you shaking?” And that he wouldn’t understand when you said, “My elf name is Crumpet.”
Even if that happened to you, if you’ve only ever …

Tonight, Don — looking sober and strong and flirting with creative genius again — has an opportunity to start a new life. A true life. He could begin to cut himself free from some of his old lies, if he wants to; Faye even offers to help. But instead, Don dives right back into Fantasyland. He cannonballs back in. He sees an opportunity to rebuild his pretty, fake, fictional life — the one that fell apart when Betty discovered the truth — and he just can’t resist. Don’s more interested in The Story of Don Draper than any of us. He’s his greatest concept. And his best client.

It’s the first painting you see when you walk into the new Kent Bellows exhibit at the Joslyn Art Museum. Two girls, two butterflies, gazing out of the canvas at you.
Gazing up at the artist, their big brother.
When Deb Wesselmann and Robin Griess talk about Kent Bellows, you can still see and hear those little girls.
They spent their whole lives looking up to Kent, being awed, knowing how special he was, knowing how lucky they were to have him as a big brother.
When Kent died five years ago at 56, …

And Christian Siriano came!

My husband was in the kitchen while I watched last night’s runway, and I kept shouting at him, “This was not supposed to happen,” “This is such an upset.”

I like it in the hospital.

On one of those remote control beds. Yeah, that’s right — the ones that go up at both ends.

I like it with tubes coming out of my arms.

And circles under my eyes.

And a little pink plastic bowl on the table that I can puke into if I need to …

Sorry. That was weird.

I was just thinking about all those Facebook updates — the ones that are supposed to be about breast cancer? — and what they’d sound like if they were actually about breast cancer.