It’s that time again. Logo has scoured the nation for its finest transvestites, crossdressers and pretty-pretty-princesses for the newest season of Rupaul’s Drag Race. This time the show premiered twice, splitting the debut of the initial 14 queens into two separate episodes, which wasn’t confusing at all.
Part one premiered last week. (Spoilers coming. Duh.) It was slim pickings as the first 7 queens attempted the stock Crap-Into-Dazzle! opening week challenge. Seattle’s Ben Delacreme won, sporting the sole outfit that didn’t appear to be crudely fashioned out of shower curtains. Everyone else floundered fantastically, flopping around the runway like a dying goldfish out of its aquarium. I suppose that would be “fishy,” so I guess it was a success.
Tragically, immensely tragically, Kelly Mantle was the first queen eliminated. I could not fathom it. OK, I’ll grant you she was a little raggedy. Yeah sure, so she maybe should’ve run a comb through that wig before hitting the runway, and yeah, maybe she should’ve tried to cobble out some semblance of a silhouette out of that gown. But that bitch was serving undeniable rolling-at-the-renfaire realness. Just hand her a hunk of meat on a stick and she’d have hit perfection. Whatever. It doesn’t matter what she looked like. Kelly Mantle is the sole contestant who has paid a proper homage to the motherfucking queen, Miss Khia Shamone. Surely the producers caught her epic cover of Lick It. That alone should’ve bought her at least 3 weeks of immunity. Bullshit.
Kelly’s departure afforded New York City’s Vi Vacious another chance to vie for the crown. Ordinarily I have nothing but respect for a man who rolls himself in rhinestones and lavender wall paper and declares himself pretty, but that shit was a mess. Vi Vacious hit the runway with the rolling gait of an elderly woman with severe back pain. It was all downhill from there. That motherfucker looked like a vejazzled Grimace from your happy meal topped in a Cindy Brady wig. Goddamn. Yet underneath all my rage and confusion, I still have to give the girl a pass. Vi Vacious may not have been sick’ning, but Ornacia sure was. Experience has shown me that anyone who communes with a Styrofoam wig head is kind of neat. So you win this round, Vi Vacious, but know that Ornacia carried your ass.
Round 2 of the premiere dropped tonight. This episode was much less busted, though it sadly climaxed in the elimination of Magnolia Crawford. Sure, she was kind of a cunt, but just as I’m starting to get into her soccer mom blowup doll couture they have to send her packing. Is there no relief? Miss Crawford shall forever live in infamy for her extraordinary interview/expose of Taylor Swift. Hopefully she will choose to take this setback in stride and refrain from violently venting her rage on any of her drag daughters. That’s what rosebushes are for.
This week’s runway was significantly less dismal, so it seems that there’s hope for this season. Bitches better get their shit together, though. Not just anyone can be an Akashia or a Nicole Paige Brooks. Get to work, ladies.