Last night’s Top Chef was good, but did anyone notice that it was an hour and ten minutes long? They couldn’t have cut a single second of it? Too good, I guess. Every moment was a gem. Francis Ford Coppola made it. The Quickfire Challenge was the classic relay race, which is genuinely pretty fun to watch. These people can actually manage themselves in the kitchen, which is weird, it’s almost like they have value outside of reality TV fodder. Then there was the Elimination Challenge, in which they had to cater to a wedding … wait for it … the next day. Ooph. So they cooked all night, and everyone was tired and snippy, and then blah blah blah, weddings are boring. Check out this Judges’ Table fight:
Dale managed to make it through a whole argument without grabbing his dick. It’s called “playing the game.” He’s not here to make friends, and he knew he was going to have to step up to the plate. Other reality TV cliche. I think they’re trying to paint Dale as this season’s villain, but it’s not working. I like him. He’s good at cooking, and he’s got so many headbands. And fuck Spike. When Dale is like “you should like it, it took him three hours to make,” I am like “IN YOUR FACE.” I hope Dale comes in second. But Richard is going to win it. He’s got the streamlined lesbian faux-hawk, and a heart of clarified gold.