Guilty pleasure

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I am a reality TV addict.

A few weeks ago, my lovely aunt in Savannah started describing a new upcoming reality show to me. And all I could think was, "Damn. We're ripping off the British once more." You see, the show she described was eerily close to "Last Restaurant Standing."

When I moved into this apartment four years ago, for the first time in almost ten years I had the chance to have cable TV once more. And I was picky. I said, "I need the lowest cost package you have that includes BBC America. And IFC." I had cable for a couple of hours when I called the folks back and said that I would need DVR as well. I got it the same day as well. Before getting cable this time around, I thought that I was a TV junkie. I was gravely mistaken.

But back to the main topic. I love me some tangents since I discovered the term "stream of consciousness" in high school. Thank you, Mr. Faulkner. OK. So I was always this way but now I had a name for it. And Mr. Faulkner made me believe that perhaps it was a Southern trait. Yeah, I know that Joyce did it first. Bug a lot of Southerners? Descendants of Erin.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Some cooking competition in England. This time around the commercials for the show almost made me spew whatever I was drinking at the time. There's some comment in the commercial about how the contestants cannot understand anything that Raymond Blanc says. My question is that if this the case, then why aren't there some friggin' subtitles? Ya know. Like Guy Ritchie was kind enough to provide in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Yes, I know that was a completely different accent.

And of course I like to compare Raymond with Gordon Ramsey. Because yeah, I watch "Hell's Kitchen" as well. I love Gordon because he is one of the few people on this planet who perhaps has a bigger pottymouth than I do. And folks, that is hell of impressive. Ask the guys at work. I drop f-bombs several times a day although I'm more known for my colorful hand gestures.

So if you're a "Top Chef" fan and you have BBC America, I say check this show out. It comes on Tuesday nights. I know the season is winding down but it takes them two weeks to eliminate a team. I kind of like that idea. Fuck up one week and you still have one more week to prove why you should stick around.

And now I'm going to return to couch and question why I thought drinking a bunch of pomegranate margaritas on a Monday night was a good idea. (2 pitchers, 4 women.) No, I did not consume them at home. I was out with coworkers. Sheesh. But y'all should have seen the expression on the president of the company's face when he took a taste from the second one. And then we ladies all proclaimed, "Oh, this one has a lot more juice in it." But we were all at work on time today. Even if there was a lot of rehydrating involved. And cravings of greasy, high in carbs foods.