Bobby Big Wheel

Hey guys, I know it’s been a while since I rapped at you, but I come bearing good news.  I’m bringing back the Top Chef recaps.  I can’t promise I’ll be able to do it every week, but I’ll try.  This season it’s in Texas, where I hear everything chef-related is bigger, from the wisks to the cocaine problems.   They bring all the cooktestants to the Alamo, which is clearly the most Texas thing you can do.  Because when you think Texas, you think rental cars.  But they notice there’s 29 of them.  29 people?  YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW 29 PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE.  Seriously, I’m guessing they had 30 until someone OD’ed.  But they’re going to do some opening round eliminations to cut (chef pun!) it down to 16.

The first group has 10 people, with 10 cuts of pork.  It looks like a normal Top Chef kitchen except it has Old West decor and Lone Star flags.  DID YOU ALREADY FORGET YOU WERE IN TEXAS, MORON?

The first chef we meet is a 22-year-old with plucked eyebrows, a bad sense of humor and the sense of entitlement that you normally see on a College Republican (I’m bolding my official nicknames once they are dispensed so you can keep track).  He says he’s even cooked for politicians!  Wow, politicians!  Mitt Romney tweets about eating Carl’s Jr. you ass.  I’m just kidding, we all know that Mitt Romney subsists off of unflavored root marm.

One of the chefs worked on a cruise boat.  As long as she doesn’t give anyone food poisoning it’s a step up!  I’m calling her Charo.  Another is Grayson Schmitz, which is the name of someone who went to Fieldston, except unlike someone who went to Fielston she is currently unemployed.  Clearly, she needs to get on here so she has something to brag about at her 10-year reunion. And Jon’s got a mohawk, which is nice because I’m sick of Top Chef fauxhawks, but it’s kind of a mess like Lafayette’s mohawk on True Blood.  Hence, he’s White Lafayette.  He also won’t shut up about his salty palate.  I get it, it’s a disability, but you’re not Roy Hobbs just because you need to cut down on the sodium in your dishes.

College Republican talks about himself like he’s Aleksei fucking Vayner.  He says he published his own cookbook, but he really needs to publish himself some eyebrows.  Pretty soon, Colicchio’s calling him out for his total inability to butcher.  And Colicchio cooked for the president, not a Sacramento city councilman.  College Republican totally fucked up Fieldston’s cut too, Colicchio tells him to take a hike. That’s a bawse move, so this season I’m calling Colicchio Teflon Tom.  As he’s getting kicked off, College Republican says he’s going to the top.  Probably of a Ponzi scheme.  

During the break there’s a Water for Elephants ad.  FYI girls, if you say your favorite novel is Water For Elephants on an online dating site, guys will know that you don’t read real books.

A vegan guy struggles, and I’m glad to see that cult exposed as incompetent.  He plates the soup horribly and oh man that’s going to be hard to recover from.  So they just boot him right off the bat too.  Normally I make fun of Top Chef gimmicks, but this is like an Andy Dick reality show with capricious eliminations.  I like Top Chef: Texas, WHERE THE GIMMICKS ARE BIGGER.  The actual gimmick is that during the opening round you need a majority vote from the panel to get through, or they can choose to eliminate you or place you on the bubble.  And they’re making getting the Top Chef jacket a big deal.  Texas acts all tough, but they spend their time fighting over outerwear.

Charo puts pork in some type of cream and soup, it wasn’t porky enough and now she’s on the bubble, while Fieldston gets stuck there too due to College Republican’s incompetence.  Let that be a lesson, let pork speak for itself and never trust College Republicans.  Also of note, White Lafayette puts pork in goo.  It’s a little salty, but Teflon Tom and Emeril put him through.  I just hope he shuts up about his salty palate.  And stuff happens to people I haven’t given nicknames but you should check out some other recap to find out what happens to them.

The surfer chick with no arm is doing Healthy Choice commercials.  Well, of course it’s easy to keep weight off when you’re missing a limb.  That’s like 20 pounds of you in a shark’s belly right now.

Group 2 walks in and, you’re not going to believe this, but there’s a lesbian with a fauxhawk.  I’m calling her Lesbian Fauxhawk 1 because for all I know there are two or three others in the pipeline.

Ty-Lor Boring worked at Spasso.  I ate there!  Because we couldn’t get a table at Spotted Pig!  He does a good orecchiette with crab, but since he put that stupid hyphen in his name, I’m calling him Krypton.  For those of you who never had to read comic books because you didn’t bring enough to read on spring break and had to borrow from one of your fraternity brothers, everyone on Krypton is named Kal-el or Jor-el or something.

“Dakota Weiss” sounds like someone who went to Harvard Westlake since Los Angeles is more outre than New York but the rich Jewish parents still give their kids white-ass names.  But holy shit is she covered in tattoos.  Her mom must be pissed, such a shanda!  There’s also a black seafood chef who sounds just like Bubba from Forrest Gump and a Korean guy whose parents aren’t proud of his chefdom.  Fucking Tiger Moms.  All Asian girls are like that by the way.  My friend has a normal-seeming Asian girlfriend but if you talk to her about that book she’s like oh yeah I’m totally spanking my kids.  Stay strong, Tiger Son.  

Lesbian Fauxhawk 1 mentions she broke up with “someone” she’d been with for 9 years.  Oh darling, you can say it was a woman.  Anyone who watches Bravo has some semblance of a gaydar.

Bubba’s been in prison and he has fewer tats than most of the other chefs.  He also wears orange crocs.  Batali earned his orange crocs, Bubba.  I don’t know if you’ve got the chops to do that, but I am certainly not in a place to argue with you because you are large and muscular and spent time in the clink and I haven’t been to the gym since it’s been cold out.

Anyway, Bubba, Krypton and Harvard Westlake it all win their outerwear while Tiger Son and Lesbian Fauxhawk 1 get sent to the bubble.  A bunch of people who don’t matter get eliminated and a bunch of stuff happens to a bunch of other people.  I swear I’ll start mentioning who actually gets eliminated once we get down to 16 fryolatortestants.  Like I said, I don’t even know 29 people, it’s way too hard for me to keep track right now.

Next week: Blonde Southern chef.  I know who I’m rooting for, if only to piss off Danger Guerrero because he’s not on #TeamBlonde.

Hey guys, not sure if I told you this, but I used to do stand-up.  Ultimately, I didn’t think much of it as a career path, but there was a point where I would’ve killed to be on the dais at a Comedy Central Roast.  Whenever I see a roast I make up my own jokes, but this is the first time I ever actually wrote them down.  Anyway, here’s what I could whip up in a few hours.  Oh, and you have to pretend I have awesome delivery like Jeff Ross and Lisa Lampanelli.

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Thank you, Seth MacFarlane, you’ve come a long way from playing the kid in Jerry Maguire.  And yeah, like the rest of you I’m sitting here staring at this dais wondering what the hell all of these people are doing here.  I think I figured it out though. 

Mike Tyson, you’re bloated, black and haven’t been functional since the 80s, like Charlie’s liver.  Quit laughing, Slash, I could’ve said half-black and that joke could’ve been about you. 

I wasn’t sure why Shatner was here until I realized that he and Charlie had so much in common.  He was T.J. Hooker, and Charlie likes to K.O. hookers.

Patrice, glad you can make it, even though I’m pretty sure you were only invited because Charlie wanted someone who could give him clean needles.  He’s gonna be bummed when he finds out you can’t get high on insulin.

Amy Schumer, you’re a woman that Charlie has never seen before, so I apologize for him thinking that you’re one of his daughters.  Of course, none of us have ever seen you before, so for all I know, you actually are.

Jeff Ross, glad to see you came dressed as your hero, Captain Crunch.  Look at you, you fatass.  Sheen’s got Tiger Blood in his veins, you’ve got Velveeta.  Same for you Lovitz.  I’d make a joke about a movie you’ve been in but nobody here can remember one.  Your IMDB page is a shrug.

Brooke Mueller I’m glad you brought Dog the Bounty Hunter.  You guys could be the before and after pictures for a night with Charlie Sheen.  Dog, do you hunt criminals on the sun?  Your skin looks like Bree Olson’s vagina.

But enough about the dais, we’re here for the man of the hour, Charlie Sheen.  I don’t think there’s been anything said about you that hasn’t already been said about Lindsay Lohan.  You’re the coked-up loser son of a fake president, as opposed to George W. Bush, the coked-up loser son of a real president.  Except he did a lot better than you in the courtroom  Your career started out with so much promise, but it’s been a slow descent to the bottom, much like Kate Walsh’s boobs.  I loved you in Platoon and Major League, and seeing you slum around on Two and a Half Men was tragic.  The last time a *rock star* sunk so far it was Brian Jones in his pool.  Anyway, sorry I’m making this so short, but by the terms of your divorce Denise Richards got half my jokes about you.  Well, she received them, I don’t thinks she’s smart enough to “get” anything more advanced than a See N Say.

So, here’s to you Charlie Sheen.  I think I speak for everyone when I say that I wish you were the actor from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off who married Sarah Jessica Parker.

One of the most amazing things about the Nevin Shapiro saga was how the booster wanted to be the players’ friend.  Normally you think of shady boosters as fat old white guys who just want the team to win.  But Shapiro was a different animal, a Napoleon complex Jew who would rather hang out with the players than see them do well.  This explains why Miami wasn’t that good when he was giving players impermissible benefits.  Shapiro didn’t give a shit about the Canes doing well.  The guy went to USF for Christ’s sake.  He was just taken in by the allure of South Beach that also seduced LeBron James and Chris Bosh.

It’s funny; if you read the articles about him, he says that he’s going public because he feels like his friends have abandoned him.  Now, it’s probably not easy growing up as a 5’5” Jew in Miami, and I’m sure Shapiro used that as motivation to construct his massive Ponzi scheme.  But the man never learned what the rest of us failed jocks did: there comes a time when you realize that you’re not going to be a big time athlete, and big time athletes don’t want to be friends with you.  They’re in their own world, full of people they have no idea they can trust.  Everyone is looking for a piece of them, and simply lavishing them with gifts won’t make you their friend.  Shapiro seems to lack fundamental understanding of how one actually becomes friends with people.

Worst booster ever?  Worst booster ever.

I’m not one of those “only in New York!!1!!one!” types but I need to find out if this happens elsewhere. At 34th Street a man walked onto the D train. Middle-aged, bald, black, unremarkable looking except he wore a black knit scarf around his head.

As he walked on he asked “DOES THIS TRAIN GO TO CONEY ISLAND?” Nobody responded so he asked again and someone said yes. He comes up by me, as I was sitting next to an empty seat. “Can I be Rosa Parks and sit here?” he asked me. Since this was an empty seat, I responded yes, a bit puzzled.

Now it gets weird. He didn’t stay in the seat long. Instead, he placed his bag on the seat and went up to the CUNY ad above the subway doors. He then proceeded to tear it out of its covering. Not all at once, but in chunks. When he got the last bit out and started kissing the piece of paper. The object of his affections was a female professor depicted in the ad. If I had to guess her age, I’d say 65. At this point we had arrived at West 4th Street and I went into another car.

So I need to ask you all, doses this happen in other cities? At the very least, I need to find out who that professor is so she can know that she has an admirer.