Top Chef Returns, Pray for My Family

Top Chef, that reality competition of bad-ass chefs, returns tonight.  I can’t wait.  The show is one of my greatest guilty pleasures, and I can already see myself staying up later than usual (I’m lame and hit the sack early) while staring at my TV and salivating.

Of course, the return of this fine show creates some problems.  Not for me, of course, but for my family, most notably Shawna.  In the past I’ve discussed my love of food and cooking, and I’ve discussed my relative suck-i-tude at said cooking.  Well, maybe I don’t suck, but I’m no where as good as I’d like to be.  I tend to stress over details that shouldn’t affect a small dinner between Shawna and myself.  Couple this with my complete lack of maturity, and we’ve got one helluva a recipe… for disaster!

So, for your reading pleasure I now present a list of things Shawna is most likely to hear me say in the kitchen during the coming months.

“Don’t burn!  Why are you burning?”

“Fuck you, rice!”

“Everything we own is shit!”

“Get these motherfucking animals away from my stove!”

“Do I look like I need help?”

“Um, a little fucking help, please!”

“Fuck!”

“Motherfuck!”

“Motherfuck me!”

“Motherfuck your fucking mother, you motherfucking chicken breast!”

“Why the hell is it sticking?”

“The goddamn fish just fell apart!”

“Simon, get your fucking nose out of the wok!”

“Goddammit, I fucking suck at this!”

“Why do I even bother?”

“Seriously.  Fuck you, rice!”

“They don’t even look like scallops anymore!”

“Should have ordered a pizza!”

“No salt?  You don’t want salt?  Why don’t we just eat some motherfucking cardboard?!”

“Please cook this goddamn thing before I completely ruin it!”

“There is no way I can un-fuck this!”

“I could destroy Cheerios!”

And so forth. 

So you see, Shawna may have a bit of an adventure coming her way, courtesy of her stress-filled boyfriend who loves to cook but can’t keep things from going south.  Pray for her.