Yes, I know. I'm awful. . .

. . .and the two of you who pay any attention to The Fashion Show at all are weeping big salty tears over the fact that I didn't recap it.

Let me break this down for you: on Saturday, I went to Arizona. After four days, in which I lived through a 93rd birthday, a cookie decorating party, and a flight with Snooki, I got home last night at 10:39.

So I saw everything from the second show onward, and I know poor straight David (who looks awkwardly like Kurt's plot device. . .I mean love interest, Blaine, from Glee) went home, and I know Iman was en fuego during the critique.

But at the same time, I leave again tomorrow. I wanted to spend my 34 hours at home snuggling my cat, watching Top Chef, and moving the contents of one suitcase into another (slightly larger) suitcase.

So it's a no go on The Fashion Show this week. Just deal.