Maybe next year.

Just two more days until I learn Lindsay Lohan's Birkin's fate vis a vis the Humana Festival of New American Plays, the Heideman Award, and much more. The past three nights have held dreams about being chosen for Humana — really freakin' excellent dreams, I must say — but I've just found out that there are 74 other finalists, so I'm optimistic but not holding my breath. Just being a finalist from 1200+ scripts means I'm in at least the top 6.25 percent of 10-minute playwrights, right? Right? And just two more nights of dreams until I learn whether I'll get to go to Louisville this spring.

Really, Monday can't come quick enough.

Here we go:

Jack begins the show by saying he thinks he has a “skin staph infection.” Ruh-roh. Particularly because his HIV+ status makes this a bigger deal than it would be for others.

The models come out: they're fatties-no-more in their pre-weight-loss fave outfits. The challenge: transform the outfit by midnight tonight, with $10 to spend at Mood.

Steven's model is wearing a wedding dress. Did I mention that the challenge is to transform the outfit into an everyday look? He's kerphucked. Kevin and Elise are very excited to design for “real women.” If I were Steven, I'd spend the cash on a whole lotta Rit.

Sweet P is very concerned about Jack and seems to be turning into the Den Mother. Sweet.

Jack talks to his doctor, then Tim Gunn, then the group. He's decided to leave. It speaks volumes about what we've learned about the HIV virus that both Kit and Christian immediately go to him and give him a big hug. So does Victorya.

Commercial Break.

OMG Ricky's navel is pierced.

OMG Chris is back! The workroom casts off its pallor and comes alive. Everyone is jubliant. Everyone is less so when they learn that Chris can stay through the night if he wants.

Steven's model looks like Elvira in the dress he's cooking up for her. He's using, like, NONE of the wedding dress.

Tim admits he's made a lot of bad decisions at 3 AM, and then admits he's such an “old fart” that he didn't even think about the sexual undertone of that comment.

Everyone but Chris leaves at midnight.

Commercial Break.

Day of Elimination. Kevin, Jillian, Ricky, and Christian are confident with a capital con. Kevin pitches in to help Steven, and so does Victorya, but Steven still ends up gluing the hem of the dress. Double ruh-roh.

Ricky gives the guest judge a “how you doing?” The judge looks surprised and says “good.”

Heidi looks like she was styled by Janis the Muppet.

Best IMO: Kevin and Christian. The judges fawn over Jillian's dress but to me it looks shlumpy.

Worst IMO: Chris, Steven, Rami (Rami's outfits flatter neither butt nor boobs)

Steven's look is deemed “a French maid at a funeral,” while Kors reminds Chris that “cliches are there for a reason.”

In: Jillian

Winner: Christian

In: Kevin

In: Chris (!)

In: Elisa

Out: Steven

Next week: are we going to the circus? Tune in and find out!

Been a while, I know, but things have been a bit busier than usual, what with Monstro finishing up his marathon of a semester and my mom arriving in town (which is such a blessing I can hardly express how ecstatic I am about it). Our little guy is becoming quite the chattering little mynah bird, so I find myself having to bite my tongue a lot more while driving around greater western Massachusetts. (“Son of a … gun!”)

Little guy is finally starting to say “Mommy” and “Daddy” rather than “Mama” and “Dada,” which warms our hearts to no end. Today he tried to say “school bus” but it ended up sounding like “poop butt,” which I assure you is not something he picked up from my typical while-driving vocabulary.

I've come up with three more restaurants for the book and so it's actually done now, and in less than a week I'll find out whether “Lindsay Lohan's Birkin” will be featured at the upcoming Humana Festival of New American Plays, which really would be too good to be true. I had a dream the other night that it was indeed chosen and man, that was a stupendously awesome dream. Of course, now that I've dreamed it, it probably won't happen. Oh well, at least I got to dream about it.

Then again, as I was reminded during my deposition, when I was in high school I'd often dream about the things that would happen in the days to come, so, we'll see. In the meanwhile, it's pretty hard to type with all my fingers crossed. Oh, and I have our church's Christmas Pageant (written and directed by moi) to get through this Sunday, so you'd think that would help to keep my mind off things. Naaah…

Welcome to week four (uh, three — I missed last week) of my Project Runway liveblog. I missed the first 40 minutes because I was out having a life. Anyway, the challenge was particularly difficult this week: take three outdated trends, incorporate them into a three-piece collection, and make them both relevant and cohesive. Jillian's team was the winner by far, no question. Then Ricky and Chris's teams were chosen as the lowest two. Victorya rolled over on Ricky, Ricky did it right back to Victorya, and Elisa took the hero's way out by saying she'd always take herself out first. Stephen's garment was almost as hideous as Ricky's but the judges really didn't like Chris's, either. Steven said no to Chris, Chris said no to Chris, and Sweet P (whose dress was adorable) said Steven should go because his outfit was so different from the others.

Final verdict: Ricky's in, Chris is out. Too bad; I liked him way more than creepy Stephen — plus, there's NO WAY that Chris's outfit was uglier than Steven's. The judges are smokin' crack. Oh well. Moral of the story: if you want to be a Project Runway success story, don't hail from San Francisco. See you next week!

It's been such a good-news/bad-news rollercoaster the past 24 hours:

Good: Mom's coming to visit for Christmas

Bad: Dad had to have his dog put to sleep (donations here, please)

Bad: The boy woke up at 6:30 this morning

Good: Monstro's sister is engaged

That's all I can take for one day-unit. Good night!

Y'all have got to go play this “guess-the-number” game: http://www.quizyourprofile.com/guessyournumber.php

Holy frak, do we have us some snow here. The intrepid administrators at UMass-Amherst don't believe it's enough to close the school. Probably because their gold-plated heated toilet seats are still toasty to the touch. Monstro has to go out driving in this in the next half-hour. I suggested he tell the leader of his practicum that he can't get out of the driveway (which, half an hour from now, might be more truth than falsehood) — he'll be taking our AWD car rather than the Saturn because the Saturn's tires are pretty much burned through. Not much else going on. I'm reading a decent book — Haven Kimmel's newest novel — but I wish she'd hurry up and finish her memoir cycle because that stuff is effing great.