<![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, defamer, what starving children in africa]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/gawker.com.png <![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, defamer, what starving children in africa]]> http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/whatstarvingchildreninafrica http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/whatstarvingchildreninafrica <![CDATA['Project Runway' Tests Remaining Contestants' Laffy Taffy-Draping Skills]]>
While we were otherwise occupied last night obsessively running a fine-tooth comb through every late-night-host's facial hair configuration, tapping out the contents on a stark white surface, and drawing our observations accordingly, we managed to miss a new Project Runway. Thanks to the modern age miracle of DVRs, however, and the no-less miraculous video-digesting talents of Molly McAleer, we were able to pretty much fill in the blanks:

This week, contestants were set loose, like Gays in a candy store, in a candy store. While the audio is nice, you really don't need it to figure out from the judges' expressive faces whose designs sent them over the moon (two words: licorice bodice), and whose left them with a sugar-coma bellyache (eight words: Walking Tootsie Roll with Hershey Kiss elbow pads). Where was the joy, indeed, Mr. Kors—or for that matter, the Mounds?

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