Sure, as if you didn’t know…
Do you remember when you were still a college student and your professor assigned an essay on a topic of your choice, only the possibilities were so far and wide you had absolutely no idea where to begin, so instead found yourself staring at a blank sheet of paper or white computer screen for hours on end, cursing the sonofabitch for assigning it in the first place?
Well, that’s exactly how I feel when it comes to Rachael Ray.
My hate for her is so pure and concentrated and evil that I struggle to make inroads when it comes to putting my thoughts together and intelligently conveying just why, exactly, she sits infamously atop my “People to Kill” list. I think the only way to accurately encapsulate just everything I despise about this woman (she’s a woman, right?) is to just start writing. With that, here goes:
EVOO. I bet you didn’t know this, but “EVOO” stands for Extra Virgin Olive Oil. EVOO is simply Ms. Ray’s clever acronym for it, and she’s all too happy to use it in, oh, everything she cooks, thus giving us at home the opportunity to hear her so annoyingly pronounce “E-V-O-O” time and again. Look, Bitch, just because you pluck four letters from the English language and string them together as an acronym does not mean you invented the stuff. I promise you, walk into any good kitchen in the world and the chefs — yes, chefs, Ms. Ray, which you clearly are not — are not asking their sous chefs to drizzle a bit of “EVOO” over the tops of their Tomato Basil Angel Hair. Why? Because we’re not all wood nymphs and retards.
MC Fuckhole in the house!!!
30-Minute Meals. Preparing a meal and cooking a meal are two completely different things. Look, I can untie a loaf of bread from a plastic bag, slather two slices with peanut butter and jelly, and smash it togther with a side of potato chips in, oh, about 5 minutes. Where’s my show? What you do, Ms. Ray, is prepare. The idea of eating your “cooking” is downright frightening. A goddamn 5th grader could do what you do, only I’d applaud the little shit for effort and tell him I appreciated the effort. Why? Because he’s 10. You’re a grown woman. I’d advise you to actually learn how to cook before you agree to do a cooking show. Just a thought.
“Oh, look, Dylan made a muffin.”
$40 a Day. This is, by far, the greatest crime Ms. Ray and The Food Network ever perpetrated (well, except for those bullshit pictures of her in Maxim or wherever the hell they were, which were a total fucking sham). I don’t know if ever mentioned it, but I’ve worked in quite a few restaurants. In fact, when considering every “major” role in a restaurant, I’ve held every single one except Owner, Sommelier, and Janitor. Otherwise, I’ve pretty much done it all. So, as a student of the restaurant biz and, at least in my earlier years, a consummate restaurant diner, I can safely say I understand a little bit about the process of tipping. See, here’s the thing about tips, Ms. Ray: you need to leave one. Look, I’ve seen the graphic at the end of each meal on this show. You know, that little pop-up check with the cost for all of your food-stuff, eventually illustrating a grand total of somewhere under $40 for the three meals and a snack you purchased in whatever city you happen to be in. That’s all well and good, but those people who waited on you? Well, they survive on what are known as tips, these percentages of money based on your food bill that you leave for them after dining. What’s more, even though 15% was once thought customary, these days a 20% minimum is pretty much standard. So, when you leave your breakfast server, say, a 10% tip, you’re essentially telling him, “Go fuck yourself! I’m better than you! And I still have two more meals and a snack to eat today.” In other words, Ms. Ray, you’re a selfish whore who everyone hates. In one episode, I distinctly recall that you are “scraping by” in whatever hick town you’re in, only to blow $25 or so on a sweatshirt from a local brewery. In other words, you’re not really surviving on $40 a day, now are you? Still don’t believe me as to just how awful you are? Go watch my man Tony “The Frog” Bourdain sometime, particularly the South Carolina episode of No Reservations. In case you haven’t seen it, he eats breakfast in a joint where you frequented, and the waitress reveals that you, ma’am, don’t tip. Bourdain calls you out for the dumb shit you are, and the rest of us laugh at your expense. You know, as it should be.
Now that’s a chef. A drunk one, but a chef.
Awesome. Sweet Jesus, woman! Not only can’t you cook food, but you can’t even describe it. Sorry, but telling me that the pulled pork you ate was “awesome” doesn’t tell me a goddamn thing. Was it well-seasoned? Was the BBQ sauce tangy? Were there hints of, say, cumin or molasses? What’s more, when you describe everything as awesome, nothing is awesome, get it? When you equate everything is being one thing, it is automatically its antithesis. Just like you can’t have good without evil or beauty without ugliness, you can’t have “awesome” without “shit sandwich.” For instance, Tony Bourdain is awesome; you, Ms. Ray, are a shit sandwich. Understand? And by the way, rolling your eyes into the back of your head whenever you take a bite of anything only proves that you may or may not be possessed.
Guys like this describe things as awesome; trained “chefs” do not.
Social Illiteracy. You do realize, right, that it’s socially awkward to laugh after every comment you make to another person, yes? I’ve watched you interract with people on $40 a Day and I’m convinced you’re mildly retarded (and altogether stupid). Sure, some of us laugh occasionally after speaking, but it’s an occasional nervous laughter that’s socially acceptable. You, Ms. Ray, are not only on camera constantly, but you host a talk show, for God’s sake. How have you not learned how to carry on a normal conversation by now, one that doesn’t involve schoolgirl chuckling after every comment out of your disgusting mouth?
“I’m so awkward I can’t even smile for a picture. Cheez (whiz)!”
Look, Rachael Ray, I don’t mean to imply that you’re the worst person on the face of the Earth; rather, I’m outright saying it. You’re the worst person on the face of the Earth. I despise you, your Dunkin Donuts campaign, your hideous voice, your lack of talent that has translated into a goldmine, and every other evil bit that comprises you. I’d rather sip EVOO from the anti-Christ’s asshole than spend 5 minutes watching you fuck up boxed macaroni and cheese. Do us all a favor: next time you’ve got 30 minutes to prepare a meal, just stick your head in the oven and call it a day.
I told you Rachael Ray sucks!
Damn, I truly am annoyed right now. Thanks, Bitch. Until next time, have at it, you vultures!