My life is entirely consumed by three things:
Pathetic? Perhaps. But it works for me! (other than when I stare out the window and quietly weep.) Moving on, I’m sure you’ve all been watching the drama unfold with Top Chef and my imaginary boyfriend, Chef Tom.
Clearly, CJ is my favorite. Other than that fact that he’s freakishly tall and has one testicle, both of which I somehow regard as pluses, he’s laid back and hilarious and genuinely talented. I was going on and on about CJ and his greatness when Mikey pointed out, “I don’t want you to freak out, but CJ reminds me of your brother.” Exactly! Especially since he named their fake little restaurant after his sister, the unfortunate April. Alex would SO name his restaurant after me, provided he was put on the spot on national television. That being said, Chez Beth sounds like a lesbian bar.
I can’t believe Tre got the boot. I simply can’t believe it. Although, don’t go on and on with your cheekbones and your muscles about how you make the best bread puddin’ under the sun and then have it completely suck. How can you make shitty bread pudding? My father’s version is divine, and he’s no Tre, I assure you. None the less, I disagree with kicking him off. Dale annoys me. Kick HIS ass to the curb.
Casey, I love you and your little highlights and your little t-shirts, but I can rock an onion faster than you can and I could do it with tears in my eyes. You cannot be Top Chef with ghetto knife skills. Of course, it’s not like I could ‘Hung a chicken’, which by the way, is a new verb. But Mikey can.
Where the hell is Gail? I repeat, where the hell is Gail? Padma and her phone sex voice are getting on my nerves. And why was she dressed like a mermaid last night? I miss Gail and her Banana Republic separates.
I don’t care where Ted is, for those of you that have noticed his absence. And nor should you.
Which brings us to last night. Um, bye Howie. You need a lot of things to be a Top Chef. Like, maybe a neck. So obviously, it was time for that short, little, sweaty bulldog to go. His food was hit or miss, but always salted with Howie’s body fluids which I regard as creatively disgusting. I’m only sorry he didn’t pull a Joey on his departure and cry like a 6 year old retarded girl…