Top Chef: in which any grooming is too much grooming and sexy cannot be persuaded to come back, no matter how much you curse at it.
Funny/sad: the opening credits, or, gallery of losers. Who’s sad Valerie? Cartoonish Erik and his incredible death-metal jumping move? Happy Manuel?
For the love of god would you please. hold. the god. damn. grooming scenes. No thank you to Dale’s stomach. No thank you to Dale applying deodorant. No thank you to Stephanie plucking her brow. No thank you to shirtless Spike. No. No. No.
Aaaand the award for lamest and least-applicable use of the exhausted phrase “sexyback” goes to Padma, Hot Diabetes O’Malley and the salad quickfire. Also, if I knew that finishing close to the top of Top Chef season 2 meant coming back for a cameo wearing Abercrombie’s fall 2004 boy’s line wardrobe that was rejected by the Jonas Brothers as being too much of a suburban mall cliché, I’d have stuck my dick in the mashed potatoes and called it a day, H.D.
They should just re-name this show “With a little bit of,” because every cheftestant uses this phrase every time to describe the last ingredient in every single goddamn dish.
What do we think might be wrong with Spike’s head that he never allows it free and unfettered access to light and air? Bald spot? Tiny horns? Giant Masengil tattoo? Eczema? Psoriasis and its attendant heartbreak? A colony of scabies? A partially resorbed twin? He is Greek, after all.
Meth mouth Andrew says: wasabi helps with tooth decay. Also, what is up with his invoking honor and loyalty ad nauseum? Is this a friggin’ Scout retreat, Hattori Hanso Canteen Boy? Please pack your knives, your crazy, your pseudoephedrine, your ephedrine, your Reynolds wrap, your paper clips, your lighter, your Robitussin, your Sudafed, your Actifed, your acetone, your toluene, your Benadryl, your No-Doz, your tweezers, your fake metal cigarette, your Pyrex glassware, your matches, your forged checkbook, your baking soda and your application for Faces of Meth 2008. And GO.