Tim Gunn won't leave me alone.

Since Wednesday's broadcast of Project Runway, I can't seem to stop considering who did what that is so heinous it's going to get them ousted from the show next week. Like, we're talking, not eliminated, but kicked off. Is someone caught doing drugs? Did someone sabotage a garment? Did glam mom Laura show someone her bonch? The possibilities are endless. And it's so stupid that someone would sacrifice such a major opportunity for what I'm sure will be something totally worthless. Which brings me to why I love PR and other shows of its ilk: Contestants receive the opportunity to better their careers, make their life dreams come true. It's not just "here, live in this house and haven an orgy and get drunk and we'll film it and everyone's gonna get bitch-slapped at some point." It's about a true goal that isn't entirely financial. That, and I love classy reality TV.

Also, if you haven't watched this week's inaugural episode of 30 Days' second season, you should. It's amazing. A gun-toting minutman bunks with an illegal immigrant family for a month. Of the five folks I know that watched it, all ended up at some point in various stages of tear production. Males and females. Morgan Spurlock is my hero.