So Rachael Ray Calls…
And she was all like, “It’s about time you updated your site, J.Hizzo. And wrote about something other than that lame ass Blue Smoke. And wrote about how sucky that rotten Ingrid Hoffman really is. She’s horrible. Thank Jah her ratings are in the basement. Can you believe some people are referring to her as Rachael Ray with different seasonings? Are you friggin kidding me? My right earlobe has more clout in this business than she does. Does she have four shows on the Food Network? Does she have her own daytime talk show produced with Oprah? Does she have her own magazine? Does she have her own line of cookware and knives and shit? Does she have gobs of product endorsement deals? Does she have a library’s worth of best-selling cookbooks? You can answer all of these questions with NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!”
I can’t even get a word in. Rachael keeps on spewing, “Yeah, she’s me with different seasonings. You know what seasonings she could use to be on my level? Dash of paprika, pinch of cumin and a billion dollars worth of revenue from all sorts of industries. I’ve made more multi-millionaires out of more Food Network executive bums than you could dream of, dude. The only reason that skanky mariachi puta has a show is because of the industry I built. I built this thing. Who put this thing together, huh? You know who owns this world? ME! ME! That’s who! ME!”
“Dude, the other day my agent forced me to watch one of her retarded episodes. I felt as if I was getting dumber by the second watching her shake her head around and talk to her bottle of oil. Yeah, she actually talks to her bottle of oil. She talks to it like she’s seen the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe backstroking around in there. What’s worse than that is she’s using Mexican jumping bean oil or something. EVOO is the standard I’ve set!”
“Oh, and the culinary television critic tards give me grief for not being a formally trained chef or for taking cooking seriously. Yeah, that’s the point you friggin wangs. I wasn’t formally trained. And I don’t take cooking serious. And my recipes suck. But I still own the entire friggin universe. How ya like me now?!? This Ingrid bitch probably never refried a bean in her life before she took on this show. I read that she owned some dress boutique/oil change shop in east LA or something. And she’s always saying ‘DONE!’ after she finishes making something stupid in the kitchen. You know what’s DONE? Her freakin lame excuse for a TV career. Sayonuchi, as they say in Panama!”
I finally get to cut in and tell Rachael it’s no big deal and this show will be a distant memory not too long for now. And I’m all like Rache, slow you’re roll. Don’t let that lame ass show steal your joy. You own the world and stuff. You so cute and have an incredibly beautiful butt. What more do you need? Yeah I know your husband cheated on you, but he’s a numb nut and a midget. So I tell her I have to run and my cel battery is dying.
I’ll cheer her up by sending her some more recipes she can dumb down for the mass audience that knows nothing of good taste. Yankees suck!
So, I quess you don’t like Ingrid.
Funny stuff!
Yes, I saw her show after reading it on your blog awhile back. I couldn’t watch it for more than a minute because it was so BORING. And they play uptempo Latin instrumental music in the background, which doesn’t help the show at all. I can’t follow her, her personality doesn’t work with the show. She tries hard to be entertaining but she’s not. Blah.