There'd better be some gunshots or an explosion on Hell's Kitchen tomorrow night, or at least a high-speed motorcycle chase through the streets of Los Angeles with Gordon Ramsay and a helper monkey in a sidecar, because it is shocking how badly these Wednesday night Smackdowns are throwing off my week. Really, it's like I've become unmoored in space-time. For what? Thanklessness. And you know what the worst part is? I do it to myself.
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