This is the last time you will ever see my blog soiled by a reference to Design Star. I’ve gone from liking it a lot, to watching it because it was so bad it was sort of amusing, to now being nothing but irritated by it. Besides, the charming Design Blahg
already writes about it much better than I ever did, so I’m happy to let them cover the idiocy. You should go see their site if you haven’t already. Sweet.
I understand Design Star is actually just another game show, but in the first few seasons there was genuinely talented designers competing, which made it more interesting to watch. Last year. they were bad, but this season they are completely without any skill at all. The finished rooms are almost painful to look at, the best they ever come up with is bland.
Here’s what I don’t like: all of it. The cheap ass lack of budget which forces everyone to decorate like impoverished waiters; the stupid and arbitrary time limits which forces everyone to cut corners that the judges then ding them for; the inane challenges “This week, you’ll be required to be inspired by something that means nothing to any of you. Go.”; These stupid, stupid group challenges were everyone has to be a team player but be individualistic at the same time. Just what does that have to do with hosting a design show? Nina. And I didn’t even watch the show where she got a boot up her ass. Damn. And mostly Vern Yip. The Yipster. Yippy, a Chihauhau Among Men.
Mean, petty, blustering, a number of other blogs and comments have suggested that something large in his rectum would improve his disposition. I prefer not to speculate. His own show revels that he has the design skill of those excessively large ladies you see in Bed, Bath and Beyond buying fake grape vines to swag over their curtain rods, and yet, he lays down his dictum in the judge’s section as if it were holy law. And totally arbitrary. Somebody gets the boot for a room that looks “sterile and unfinished,” but the winning room, that he swoons over, looks almost identical. The fuck?
The closest I’ll come to a recap of this week’s show (with Donald Trump! Junior! Did you know there was a Junior? Did you know he looks like a not very successful used car salesman?) is reflecting on how the two contestants who got kicked off both seemed pretty “Yeah, whatever. Just get me off this fucking dog show.”
And the Grand Prize! Hosting your very own HGTV show! Wow! Except this year, now having piled up an excess of mediocre talents from previous years, a couple of which still haven’t gotten their show on the air, and a few of the others with theirs in some 6:00 AM Thursday limbo, the producers have opted to make your show an online production. Again, wow! You know, I have my own online sow, I call it my blog. In fact, you’re reading it right now. And I have 52 followers, which is a few dozen more than whatever lame ass show they come up with will ever manage to scrape up.
Anyway, I’m outa here. It used to be fun, but it was just one of those things. Dear HGTV, it’s not me. It’s you.
Houseboy Pilas Magnus has offered to help everyone get all that nasty Design Star taste off their tongue. We appreciate Pilas’s generous offer.