You guys, Rachael Ray just totally made me feel like an asshole. Well, not directly. She sent one of her minions to do it. I was walking down 3rd Avenue to Duane Reade for some Kaopectate and kitty litter, wondering why I'm so alone, when I was stopped by a bouncy brunette with a microphone in her hand and a big, lanky bastard with a video camera perched on his shoulder standing behind her. Interns, clearly.
"Are you a fan of Rachael Ray," asked the girl, halting me in my tracks with a Racheal Ray Show flagged mic to my chest.
"No," I said. "She irritates the shit out of me and I've never been able to sit through an entire episode of her show. I find that she produces an abnormal amount of saliva, making it nearly impossible for her to conduct an interview or baste a chicken without spewing drool all over herself or her guests or her poultry, and I find it both distracting and repulsive. I also think she might have a penis."
That's not an exact transcript. I think what I actually said was something more like, "Yeah! Totally!" So she went on to explain that they were working on Rachael's Valentine's Day show, and asked if I would like to make an on-camera love declaration to my "special someone".
I didn't feel like standing on 3rd Avenue and explaining to this obnoxious stranger with a camera crew that I'm single, and no, I would not like to appear on her nationally syndicated program, making a Valentine's Day love declaration to my mother. Instead I just started rambling nervously, and puking out every excuse I could come up with, all at once: "Sorry, I'm late for a-uh-uh thing... I'm not camera-ready... I'm under contract with NBC and can't appear on any other networks..."
I don't need that! Especially not from Rachael Ray's slimy spit-face!
Great, now I'm hungry for chicken.