For years now, I've been saying "I wouldn't kick Tony Bourdain out of bed for eating crackers." And, then explaining that one would normally kick their lover out of bed if they were leaving crumbs that would be uncomfortable to sleep on, no? Really? You humans can sleep on crumbs? And you think we're animals?
No, seriously, I have had, for years, a huge monkey crush on Tony Bourdain. I love his dry style. I don't think I could keep up with his drinking. But, I have to say, I am amused when he snarks on other celeb-cooks who shill for the corporate overlords (or are so insecure in their sexuality that they can't bring themselves to be in the same kitchen with someone who bats for the other team, so to speak.)
Sometime last year, I saw that my beloved and Eric Ripert (Tony's opposite but OMG does he do good voice and hair) were sharing a stage in Boston. My own travels to Boston that year meant that I was going to miss them. But, I consoled myself on the thoughts of not being jailed due to inappropriate behavior.
This time next week, I just might be sporting the prisoner orange jumpsuit. I've got tickets to see both objects of my culinary lust. And, the days during which I can purchase just the right pair of knickers to fling on stage are ticking away quickly.
I'm going with a girlfriend. She's agreed to be my designated driver . . . I hope she realizes that means "getaway driver" rather than sober driver. hee hee.
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