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Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA
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Well, that's kind of a kick in the ass.
I woke up this morning to find droves -- nay, hordes -- of people lining up to peep the site. By nine am, there were more here than I get in a typical day. Very exciting.
Except... when I checked the server logs, I found that the vast majority -- maybe that's 'hordejority', no? -- were only looking for FHM pics of Rachel Ray. Which I mentioned, and linked to, in this post, wherein I waffled back and forth between gaping at her piccies and cowering in fear at her enormous yapper.
(And for anyone who's not aware of the slang here, 'yapper' means mouth. This was 'FHM', people, not 'Celebrity Chef Beaver Circus'.
Although, really -- aren't we just about up to that point, as a society? I would so buy a copy of that. Just don't tell Barefoot Contessa. Yeeks.)
Anyway, needless to say, I was disappointed. But not nearly so disappointed as everyone who showed up, clicked through, and found that -- oops! -- FHM must have archived those pics. Not there any more. Damn.
(Hey, but don't fret, people. They're still out there somewhere -- like right here, see?
Yeah. Let that guy have some of the traffic for a while. My hit counter is getting tired.)
So, there you go. If you're just here for the cooking cutie, then hop through that last link and get your culinary freak on. Otherwise, stick around and have a read. You won't learn anything, particularly -- but maybe it'll get your mind off the fact that you're trolling blogs looking for non-naked cooking show chicks who could literally bite you in half, but wouldn't give you the time of day. Man... it makes it sounds so cheap when I put it like that, doesn't it?
Oh, and before I go -- you may not learn anything around here, but I can still share something that I learned, over the weekend. I accidentally, but very precisely, measured my own IQ over the past 48 hours or so. Here's what I found:
I am, apparently, dumb enough to attempt to cut my own hair. I am, however, smart enough to know that I now need to wear a hat to work for the next three weeks.
Boy, the things we find out about ourselves, eh? All right, enough of that -- get back to your cooking show wank-fantasies, people. Me and my bad haircut are out.
Oh man! I was just changing some links around in my new blog (same address, new format and platform) and I realised that your link was missing! I'm so sorry, I didn;t so it on purpose! In fact, I have no idea how it happened.
I hope I'm not missing any other links, but I bet I am. Anyway, I've put you back now. In a whole new category, too! :)
Oh man! I was just changing some links around in my new blog (same address, new format and platform) and I realised that your link was missing! I'm so sorry, I didn;t so it on purpose! In fact, I have no idea how it happened.
I hope I'm not missing any other links, but I bet I am. Anyway, I've put you back now. In a whole new category, too! :)
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OH MY GAWD! I have seen it all now. Constantly and consistently, I am so truly amazed at the things that turn a man on. I am laughing so hard, tears are running down my face. This Rachel thing...
Well, one. I always cook in my bra. The grease pops....MMMM, ::shivers!::. I'm into pain too.
Two. The anticipation of THE moment when the turkey pan folds in on itself because I'm yanking it from the oven by holding the sides of the cheap aluminum pan is like... it's like... when the can opener finishes it's turn around the tuna can, you've finally made it, but ugh, what is that smell? (ok, that makes no sense EITHER) And how the hell, do you cook a turkey in an oven that clean? She's not fooling us, she got that Turkey from Sam's Wholesale.
Three. What exactly is she doing to that strawberry?
And four. I haven't bathed in the kitchen sink since I was like 6 months old. What's up with that? And please tell me those are bubbles.
On the other hand, I'm so grateful I don't have to make a living like she does. Do you suppose that smile comes from recalling her last pay stub? You sure make me laugh, Charlie. Thanks.