Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Give me a Fucking Break

Imaginary conversation between a devil and an angel on each side of Iron Chef Cat Cora's head:

Angel (crunching into a raw broccoli floret): I just feel like we don't get the respect the other Iron Chefs do.

Devil (Spreading mayo on a deep-fried Charleston Chew): Word. I mean, Flay and Molto have these sick reputations and achievements and we just seem like the Equal Opportunity hire. We have to do something about it.

Angel (moving into Flowering Shinto Lotus yoga position): Maybe if we just hold our own in the challenges, behave with dignity, and do some really great food, we'll make our own reputation over time! At least we'll stand out behaviorally from Flay, who's manners are less than...

Devil (scratching balls): Oh Flay's retarded. Yeah, he was raised by boxcar children. No doubt. But we'll never get by on performance alone. Even if we outclass these guys, we'll always get our jockstrap hiked up our ass in the locker-room after the battles by the chanting circle of big-guy chefs. No no. We've got to do something drastic.

Angel (drinking green tea): You mean like shave our vagina?

Devil (swilling Beam): Yes and no. I've got an idea...Who's the classiest person alive?

Angel: Nelson Mandella?

Devil: That asshole? Gimme a break. RACHEL RAY.

Angel: (visibly uncomfortable)

Devil: We'll follow in Ray's footsteps and make some skanky nudie photos. Plus, we got better jugs than Ray.

Angel: Well that's certain.

Devil: Done. Trust me on this. We'll have the respect of the Iron Chef locker room in NO TIME. Bite THIS pepper, Chairman!

Nothing says "I deserve respect" like jamming a can of spam in your canola-oiled cleavage!

Let's just hope Batali doesn't follow suit.

3 Comments:

At 6:36 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, Cat...how the mighty have fallen. Or would, anyway - if they weren't being held up by that ridiculously skimpy pink top...

 
At 3:07 PM, Blogger Damien Black, Medical Examiner said...

"Ingredients: Vanilla ice cream, Krispy Kremes, whipped cream, cherry Hostess Fruit Pie, chocolate syrup, cashews "

If I recall this is what really clinched the win for her when Iron Chef America's secret ingredient was random crap purchased at 7-11 by stoned teenagers.

And I'm not so worried about Batali, I just don't want to see the "Four Seasons of Chiarello" Boudoir-Photo Calendar

 
At 3:52 PM, Anonymous cheesemonger said...

Ah, the full facial view. Still debilitating, I'm happy to report.

 

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