I’m doing badly. Like, not crying for 51% of the day is a massive victory. Hopefully it’s part of this major med change and things will turn around sooner rather than later, before I have to figure out a way to commit suicide with bacon (I mean, a quick one. I already know how to commit drawn-out bacon suicide.).
I’m going to keep up the liveblogging because it makes me feel better to chronicle the doings of those crazier than I, but for the rest of the time I’m trying to line up some guest posters to keep you entertained for the next week or two so you don’t have to read about the number of nights we order in or I eat toast for dinner. Sit tight.
I won’t do it, Sir. No, I won’t.
I don’t think we need to watch tonight since they closed down the restaurant last week, so we can all go eat some cake and take a nap.
Damn, I wish I’d made a cake.
Anyway, the stupid restaurant will probably reopen, and some untalented people will cook some shit, or try to cook some shit, and get yelled at. Martyr B is still in it as is Shiv, so at least there’s the potential for some violence before Redneck takes it all.
Thank god that (1) there aren’t that many episodes of Hell’s Kitchen left and (2) this June redemption returns in the form of TOP CHEF MASTERS. Top Chef, but with people we already know can cook. I’m looking forward to it despite the fact that judge Kelly Choi’s head is freakishly out of proportion to her body. Seriously, look at the size of that thing. It’s like an orange on a toothpick, it is.
People I want to succeed: Hubert Keller. Art Smith. People I want to FAIL: Michael Chiarello. Possibly also Wylie Dufresne; i still waver on whether or not he’s a douchebag. Peruse the bios, and form your own snap judgments!
I notice Colicchio will not be partcipating. Interesting. Guess he’s too busy shilling for Diet Coke.
This is one of those nights. The CRAZIE is at threat level red (“Gary Busey”) and I could barely make it home from work without poking my left eye out with a pencil to feel something other than the crippling emotional pain.
To placate you, here is a pair of sleepy puppies, and that’s not a euphemism for my boobs like it usually is.
You know what I am not? A welcher. Behold: dessert.
You know what I am? Stupid. I’m not usually stupid, but today? Dumb. As. Shit. I don’t know whether I’m just overtired or it’s the new drug, Neurontin*, but I’ve felt like my head is full of cotton candy all day, and I HATE cotton candy.
*Which I think is one of the more ominous drug names, unlike the chipper “Abilify” or the calming “Celexa.” It’s not even one of the fun ones that sound like Sci-Fi characters, like Zoloft.
Yeah, I know, It’s Monday. And I know that I’m in the middle of switching Crazie pills again. AND I know that I am in NO MOOD to cook dinner tonight because my anxiety is like a living parasite that’s sucked out my ability to have any perspective on even the most minute life issues and is now trying to bore its way out of my skull.
HEY YOU! If you didn’t see yourself here right away and you sent your entry to firstthursday@, that’s why. In the future please send everything to michelle@, as the guidelines state. As we see, dual addresses cause confusion and ft@ became a refuge for ebay and Nigerian scammers, so it’s being shut down. (Plus, this isn’t a FT event anyway). Sorry for any confusion.
My poblano empanadas were obviously the best of this month’s entries, but I guess the rest of you did a decent job and only 2 people flouted the rules, which I think is a record for a TNS event. Also a record: number of participants. Go cheapskates!
Check out the roundup below the jump, and then put your thinking caps on for May: Chickpeas But Not in Hummus Form.
…if you have one. Have fun celebrating your exodizing, or the rising of your lord.
Last Week: There was yelling, a bunch of inept people fucked up in the kitchen, Ramsay reamed some people out and JP sneered at the world.
There, there’s every episode of Hell’s Kitchen ever aired.
Last week for real: Redneck did well in every challenge. Martyr Ben creeped me out with his martyr-y devotion to YELLING EVERYTHING AS LOUDLY AS POSSIBLE; also he may have sabotaged his team with his butchered butchering, behavior unbecoming to a martyr. Although the men won some woman named Carol got the ax, saving Andrea, AKA Shiv, from actually having to cut a bitch. What will happen this week, other than the obvious? Let’s find out together, shall we?