Liveblogging Hell's Kitchen: Episode 13

Tonight, the final three:  Redneck.  Shiv.  Dull Girl.  If we get through another entire episode without someone getting shivved (can you use that as a verb?) I’m going to be seriously pissed, no matter how many times Ramsay calls someone a donkey.  Come to think of it, I bet JP secretly shivs people, including customers he doesn’t like.  Can we give him his own show? Sigh.  See you at nine.

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You should eat a little something. You look skinny.

090417_ravsSo many awesome and wonderful and maybe a little scary crazy have jumped in to keep the fires a-burnin’; my sabbatical may be longer than planned, just so I can publish everyone’s glittering contributions.  Or maybe I need to come back sooner, because I’m definitely getting one-upped by 1 or 2 people.  Or several people. Or everyone.  Seriously, people. Dial it down.

One-upping me today is Minimally Invasive‘s Amy.  Hopefully, I’ll be having dinner with her and cook eat FRET this Friday if I can kick this fucking chest cold.  Which better be just a cold, because if I have to deal with Swine Flu on top of everything else I will be PISSED.

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Awesome Shit I That Want Tuesday

Say hi to Unintended Byproducts‘ Holly – she’s done an excellent job finding some awesome shit that I want! Once you’re done figuring out how to rob to pay for this awesome shit, why not read the past several guest posts from some other kick-ass bloggers, if you haven’t already? Which you should have. (If you’re wondering why all the guests: go here.)

There’s a lot of crazy house-y stuff out there. But my ‘Christmas‘Birthday‘ ‘Buy Me Something Cause I’m Awesome’ list is always evolving to include Michelle’s finds (seriously, I want this platter in a bad, bad way). So, yeah, I’m really glad to be able to sneak away from my blog to help out and playing around on her blog for a bit – thank you, Michelle!

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Thomas-Fucking-Keller Smackdown

Peter and Christey rock my world, and I worship at the altar of their photography. You will never take pictures as nice as theirs.  AND: Thomas Keller. Once you finish this and complete your self-flagellation for your obviously inferior photography, why not read the past several guest posts from some other kick-ass bloggers, if you haven’t already? Which you should have. (If you’re wondering why all the guests: go here.)

This is Peter from FotoCuisine. Christey and I are guest-smacking-down while Michelle is sorting out the lovely vintages residing in the wine cellar deep within her brain. I felt tackling Keller would be appropriate.

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Pregnancy is exactly the same, pretty much.

This is Heather.  She is batshit insane, and you can’t blame it on the succubus currently inhabiting her uterus, because she was always like this.  After you get through her barely-coherent rantings, read this week’s other guest posts from some other kick-ass bloggers, if you haven’t already. Which you should have. (If you’re wondering why all the guests: go here.)

Hi there, it’s me, Heather of Gild the (Voodoo)lily, helpin’ a sister out (yes, I am totally linking my own blog because Michelle asked us to say who we were in the post and I love hyperlinking I FUCKING LOVE IT). Being knocked up really isn’t that different than going through the trials of new Krazy Medz™, I suppose. I mean, I guess it’s a little like finding one that works, and it might even work for a few weeks (the cooing! oh, the joyful cooing).

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Eppur Si Muove

Many thanks to today’s poster Peter of Qui Si Mangia Bene who, aside from taunting me with this sandwich because I once again ate a bowl of Special K for lunch, gets +10 for using the phrase “holy fucking shitballs.”  Thank you for the homage, Peter.

It’s good to be back, albeit under difficult circumstances. A few of Michelle’s blogger-type friends are going to fill in for her for a bit while she gets the training wheels back on her psyche enjoys some much-needed RnR. We all wish her the best, and you should too; only somebody certifiable in great need would give someone like me the keys to her blog more than once twice.

In these tumultuous times, I do hope we can all take some inspiration from Michelle, who suffers in private, calling on friends to fill in while she copes. Unlike the less-educated, unfunny, much more offensive nutjobs who now represent and energize the tattered shreds of the GOP, Michelle has wisely opted to lie low for a bit. Are you reading this, Glenn Beck? Bill-O? Rush, baby? Please learn from her example and henceforth have your psychotic breaks in the privacy of your undisclosed bondage dungeons, m’kay?

Now as (our) luck would have it, I’ve been swamped with work lately, and thus have a bunch of unwritten posts on tap for my own, much less popular blog, so we’ll have a good time learning all about the myriad ways in which my dinner- popularity notwithstanding- tasted much, much better than your dinner.

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