“We marked your words before, and they formed, like, this totally false accusation.”

First I’d just like to point out how cute it is that Veronica is still a member of the Future Business Leaders of America. She’s the group’s token poor chick, and I was under the impression she only joined in the first place to spend time with her super-rich boyfriend. I know that if I had to pretend to break up with my boyfriend so I could help smuggle him and his newborn child (from his ex-girlfriend who had recently been in a coma and then died) into Mexico, I certainly wouldn’t feel the need to keep going to his after-school activities. But maybe she’s doing it for her resume. College application time… has come and gone without a word on this show. Well, we will just have to assume that she has applied, and for some reason will surely choose to go to a school ten minutes from home with all her old classmates.

It’s a frustrating part of television that, like in life, high school only lasts so long. Not that I am saying high school should have been any longer. God no. Just that in so many shows (Saved By the Bell, 90210, etc.), the safety and comfort of high school must soon (or eventually) be abandoned for the chaos and confusion of life afterwards, and more likely than not the whole reason you’re watching to begin with is to re-imagine your high school years as something better. You totally could’ve hung out with Rayanne and made out with Jordan Catalano, or gone to prep school and dated Dean, or run away to go sailing up the coast, or, in Veronica’s case, solved crimes and always had the perfect comeback. Frankly, I’m more sad about Veronica’s impending graduation than I was about my own. Who is Veronica without an ultra-stratified class system, authority breathing down her neck, and super-competitive mean people foiling her at every turn?

Two (two and half, really) more things about this week’s episode.

1. Mac and Beaver (I’m sorry, Cassidy) are a couple. I think this is sweet, sort of. Okay, I’ll admit it — I love them both separately (Beaver’s sad and angry glower, Mac’s sweet nerdiness), but you know how some couples just make your skin crawl? Eesh. It’s like fingernails on a blackboard.
2. What’s up with the Animal House paddle with license plate numbers? And what did Beaver mean by “Remember Sally?” “Remember Sally?” No, I don’t, Beav. Why don’t you explain it to me? Please stop holding hands with Mac. Thanks. And could you maybe step away from her? And not make eye contact? Please? That’s better.

Okay, that’s too close again.

*NB: Contains information about the outcome of last night’s Project Runway. Avert your eyes if necessary. But, seriously, you have no excuse for not having seen it. They play the new episodes back to back at 10 and 11, and unless you were out reading bedtime stories to orphans or some shite, you should have been on the couch with Chinese food waiting to see what kind of a hole Santino would dig himself into this time around. I don’t want to hear you whine about having classes, or doing work, or watching the history channel. Rule #76: No excuses, play like a champion. Off you go:

Project Runway (or, “The Runway,” to its friends. Actually, no one calls it that, but I want to start it up so I can make a “cleared for takeoff!” joke during the final episode). Only a scant few episodes filled with name dropping product placement before we officially find out “Who is in…. and who is out.” Thanks, Heidi.

A few words on Heidi: I love her. She is literally the cutest thing on the planet. I want to keep her in a box on my desk and have her talk to me in her adorable German accent all day long. I’m hoping that she popped her little Seal baby out while the contestants were home on the break designing for fashion week, and that she’ll bring the baby to the final runway show just so I can fall down dead from cuteness. Also, she’s gotten a lot better with the commentary this season—last season the overdubs were strikingly obvious, but this season you can only pick her voiceovers out a couple of times an episode. And she has a catch phrase! Everyone who’s ANYONE has a catch phrase. “Auf Wiedersehen” is way better than “That’s Hot” or “You’re Fired,” because (a) it’s in another language and (b) It was in that Sound of Music song (c) when translated, it just means “bye.” She might as well be high-fiving them and saying “peace, bitches.” She’s adorable, and I love her.

Last night, we lost my original favorite. Oh, Nick, you sassy little man with your spikey hair and your giving of the silent treatment to other less emotionally sensitive contestants. Unlike Andrae, you left your “I’m So LA” Tshirts at home and you never cried on the runway. Unlike The Other Daniel, you didn’t have a creepy molester voice. And unlike Kara, you’re not the most deplorable and least talented hack on earth. Seriously, Kara, WTF. How have you snuck into the final four? How has everyone been fooled here? I want to make a James Frey joke, but, really, at least he has some basic grasp on his craft. The only thing you have a grasp on nasty ass scrunchie you wrap around your side-bun. And, okay, the side-BUN? I’ll admit to having rocked the side-ponytail after 1986 when it should have been dead and gone but hey, I looked good doing it. You look like you’re making a science fair project of how the moon rotates around the earth out of your head. Please stop. Better yet, please go home.

But Nick. I always loved you. From the time of the Barbie challenge when you declared “This isn’t my first time at this rodeo,” causing my roommate and I to squeal in unison “the GAY rodeo!” (if there’s anything we love in apartment 4A it’s a good Brokeback reference, particularly when we can get someone to shout “I wish I knew how to quit you!” whenever our pet turtles are spotted sleeping on each other’s backs) I knew you were the one for me. But you were moody and temperamental, and early on last night you started talking about how you knew you were safe from elimination on this challenge. You made me nervous when you fashioned a suit that looks hauntingly similar to one I once owned from J. Crew for young Daniel to rock. And then, just like that, you were gone.

And then there were four.

My prediction, which is obvious and in no way a bold choice: Santino, Daniel V and Chloe make it to fashion week. Santino takes it home. At the end of the day, he’s the most creative one, and with 3 months to create a line I think he could really kick its ass, provided that he doesn’t get distracted by a shiny object or tapped by SNL to do celebrity impersonations. (“Make it work! Make it work! Make it work!”) In my heart I want Daniel to win, but I think they’re going to tell him he doesn’t have enough experience, like when that 23 year old national debate champion got canned from The Apprentice. Or maybe I don’t want to admit that a 24 year old is so enormously talented, kind of like when I first realized that everyone on the Real World was younger than me (wait… wait… bad analogy). In a perfect world, Daniel would win, in a boring world, Chloe would win, and in a fair but frustrating world, Santino would win. In Cristin’s world, Jack Bauer would win, but I don’t control Bravo’s programming. Yet.