An ode

I just returned from a quick trip to visit friends in Utah over the weekend. Not only was I craving fake chicken, but I was long overdue for a slow meander through the King's English bookstore and the cleansing breaths of Scott's yoga class, but mostly, I missed the company of people I love so dearly. I needed another day or two or month to see everyone and spend ample time, which is why I am so glad it's a quick drive. If only I could teleport.

This was actually meant to be my second post, but alas, here we are today. Over a year late. That's how I roll -- late, postponed, delayed and always with the best of intentions.

I must mention that I have a mild obsession with television. In fact, my obsession is so severe that I didn't have television in my house for over five years. There is a TV in the house now, but it only has three channels, none of which are the Food Network so I am able to curb my addiction and safely walk into the living room without the concern that my arse will permanently mold into the couch. Visits to my mom and dad's house are still dangerous though because left to my own volition, I could watch HOURS of slicing, dicing and Giada. I have no self control. None.

During those years without tv I discovered that networks were taking pity on fools like myself and airing their programs online and for free. This enabled me to catch my favorite shows in a 'controlled environment.'

Enter Gordon Ramsay.

I'm sure many of you are muttering to yourselves, but Hailey, Gordon's not on the Food Network. Yeah, I know. He should be. He's too much for those safe housewives though. He would make all those Paula Deen lovers gasp in disapproval. He would add much needed sexiness and scandal in contrast to the Sesame Street cake contests. Hell's Kitchen introduced me to his incessant hand-clapping, garbage can-kicking and wanker-screaming tirades. I then discovered Kitchen Nightmares, the F Word and miriade other shows he has on the BBC. Then I fell in love. Hell's Kitchen . . . Hail's Kitchen.

He is much milder on his BBC programs. I think his Fox producers encourage him to beef up the bitchy persona he has adopted here in the states. Youtube has tons of videos from the F Word where he cooks in his own kitchen. There is one specific video where he prepares scrambled eggs. He plates this gorgeous breakfast of eggs, tomatoes and toast and then mentions it's for his wife who is sleeping upstairs. I am not so naive to think the scenario was indeed as he mentioned, but the delivery was spot on. Oh to be served breakfast in bed by Gordan Ramsay.

I am not entirely sure what my obsession is with the man. Perhaps it's how wild his hair is or how crisp his chef coat always looks or how passionate he is about food and how that translates beautifully to the destitute restaurant owner or the arrogant chef. He is definitely high on my list of celebrities I would, well, you know. My dad reads this blog -- Hi dad! Mostly, if I ever had the chance to meet him, I would ask him to teach me to make scrambled eggs. He says this is a gauge of one's skill in the kitchen. Then I might seduce him.

Here are a few hysterical videos one, two, three of a young Chef Ramsay. They made me laugh on this Monday morning.