'Project Runway' recap: The Next Bussed Thing

Well, finally! After three weeks of buildup, at long last we got to witness season 5's best moment yet: Tim Gunn being schooled in the vernacular of today's young 'uns. ''Holler at your boy?'' he asked incredulously after Blayne first threw the phrase at him. Tim then repeated it, placing, as they say, the em-pha-sis on the wrong syll-a-ble. Finally, after Terri chimed in and parsed it all out for him, our guy triumphed, hilariously exclaiming, ''Holla!'' in the middle of the workroom, then exiting with a perfect ''Holla atcha boy!'' I ask you, TV Watchers: What would we do without our Gunn power?

The other cause for celebration on last night'sProject Runway was that the episode was 100 percent -licious free. (Update: Make that 99 percent. As many of you readers were kind enough to point out to me on the message boards, Sir Tanorexic greeted Gunn with a ''Tim-licious'' last night. Chalk up my error to wishful thinking. To borrow a phrase from Rachel McAdams in Mean Girls: Stop trying to make –licious happen!) Of course, Blayne still made sure he got at least of few minutes of ''I'm whacky!'' screen time, courtesy of his gratuitous bug-eyed stares at Kenley, followed by his growling, ''I'm going to eat you.'' And I swear the show's editors simply reused footage from last week in which Mr. Blue Mohawk announced, ''Suede is gonna rock it!'' while making those bang! bang! hand gestures, which rank right up there with playing air drums in the annals of lame-itude. And so, Suede, a word, if she may: Missy did not think this shtick was funny or endearing the first time, and she suggests Suede quit it before he really ticks her off.

This week's challenge kicked off with a soggy evening trip through New York on a blue double-decker tourist bus. The mega-vehicle dropped off groups of designers at various points around the city, where they were to snap photos for inspiration. Like a magpie in the presence of the Tooth Fairy's coin stash, Blayne predictably went nuts for the neon lights of Times Square, while Stella was befuddled by photographic technology. ''How do you zoom?'' she croaked to no one in particular. Fellow Times Square scavenger Keith kept busy by throwing around some cutthroat competitive 'tude and stealing a page from the Richard Hatch book of reality-show bravado: ''I'm not here to become their friend,'' he said, in reference to Kenley and Stella. (Original!) Meanwhile, the New York Public Library got kinda dissed. While the groups in Times Square, Columbus Circle, and Greenwich Village all got plenty of screen time, the work of the three designers sent to NYC's bastion of books — Korto, Kelli, and Joe — got close to zilch. I smell discrimination against bibliophiles!

The next day, the designers headed off to Mood and did the usual scramble. While everyone else scattered into different corners of the store, Stella had barely set foot into the place before she proved that the intricacies of digital cameras aren't her only weakness. ''Who's helping me?'' she cried. Stella, I don't know if the editors just have it in for you or you really are that clueless, but don't stop what you're doing. It's hilarious. And while I have no idea what the hell ''a gay little grommet is,'' the way you hammered it onto your beloved leath-ah is comedy enough for me. (Your outfit, on the other hand — ouf! Enjoy the proliferation of weaker acts while you can, lady. 'Cause the tacky Whiskey a Go-Go garb is gonna start smelling like a stale case of Coors Light mighty fast.)

Back in the workroom, things started to get catty. Joe, who's been getting short shrift until now, opened the can of behind-your-back bitchiness when he guessed that Kenley's design would yield a ''Fort Lauderdale-lawn-cushiony kind of thing.'' In other corners of the Runway boxing ring, Daniel called Jennifer's silky clock-frock thingamabob ''matronly,'' Stella ventured that no one would ever want to wear Keith's blousy shredded-paper shift, and Kenley dissed Emily's ruffle-stiltskin concoction as ''cliché.''

NEXT: Nina is speechless

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