A Beginner’s Guide to Hating Guy Fieri

Every once in a while I make it my personal mission to post a blog about a real world issue. Even though it’s a departure from the typical sarcastic fare of KB Thinks For You, I think it’s my duty to be the change I want to see in the world.

That’s why I’d like to talk to you guys about a very serious infestation that has been sweeping the country: Guy Fieri.

If you’re scratching your bleached blonde goatee in confusion while your numerous rings clang against each other, it’s too late for you and you might as well take up permanent residence in Flavortown, USA.

For those of you innocent souls who have no idea who I’m talking about, count your lucky stars because he is quite possibly the worst person in the world.

I also realize that I said last week that “B” was the worst person in the world but I think her and Guy can be co-holders of that title.

Guy is a “TV personality” who mainly works for the Food Network (on about 3,000 different shows—each of which would be better with someone other than him). He has also reared his overly gelled head on terrible game shows that were almost immediately canceled. I felt so bad for him when that ended*

*I did not feel bad at all.

Here is a list of the many, MANY reasons he sucks. Feel free to add your own in the comment section below (note: any positive comments about Fieri will be marked as spam)

1.     His last name is spelled “Fieri” but is pronounced “Fieti.” What kind of crap is that? Is this how it’s supposed to be? Is it typical for Italians to write one letter and then decide nah, let’s say a different letter here? It’s just stupid.

2.     His wardrobe. You are a 45-year-old male. Why are you dressed like an extra from an Avril Lavigne music video?

3.     His hair. Again, you are a 45-year-old male. There is no reason for you to have hair that spikey and that bleached. I’m pretty sure that his hair is based off of Proto Zoa’s in Zenon: Girl of the 21^st Century. Zetus lupetus! Time for a new hairstyle! Also, the outer part of his goatee is brown while the little soul-patch part of it is blonde… but a different color blonde than his hair. Why does one man need three different shades… none of which look that great on him.

4.     His “bling.” Before we even get into what’s wrong with his “bling,” I would like to note that, yes, he actually calls it “bling.” In the episode of Guy’s Big Bite that I’m watching, he’s wearing 3 large rings (including a thumb ring), hoop earrings in each ear, a large silver watch ON EACH WRIST, and a necklace that must weigh at least 2 pounds. I wish I was joking but I’m not.

5.     His catchphrases. On his show Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives, he gets to eat at some of the most awesome restaurants in the country. He samples all kinds of amazing food everyday and his job is to tell us, the audience, how delicious it is and describe it to us. Instead of saying anything helpful—or even coherent—he spits out phrases like “winner, winner, chicken dinner” or “dynamite” or “that’s off the hook” or “that’s flavortown!” In what world are any of these helpful descriptions?

6.     His skillset. I am just so confused by his whole spiel. Because of Triple-D, I thought we has in to burgers, sandwiches, and deep-fried things. Then I hear him talking about Mexican/Tex-Mex food as though that’s what he cooks. I later see an episode of Guy’s Big Bite which seems to confirm this assumption. Later, I find out that he owns a restaurant called Johnny Garlic’s which is an Italian restaurant and on this current episode of GBB he is talking about how pasta is a staple in his house. I AM SO CONFUSED.

7.     His fridge. I don’t even have words. Is this a 45-year-old’s refrigerator or an 8-year-old’s car bed?

8.     His inability to talk in a normal voice. I think someone needs to explain to Guy how a microphone works. There is no reason for him to talk in a perpetual shout.

9.     His abbreviations. Guy is the master of unnecessary abbreviations. In the last 10 minutes I’ve heard him shorten up “vegetable oil” into “veg oil” and “ravioli” into “rav.” Why? Why would you do that? Just stop being you, Guy.

10. The fact that he has the best job in the world. That man gets to travel all over the place eating the best food in the world. If anyone deserves that amazing job, that person is me.

If you can still like Guy Fieri, may God have mercy on your soul because you are a lost cause.

Also, quit reading this blog because that is unforgivable.

She Puts the "B" in B!tch

Friends! It’s been quite some time since I last spoke to you but I just need a little break from the responsibility of taking care of you. Seriously. Most of you are 20 plus years old; you should be able to navigate your life without the help of me.

I don’t want to name names but I vaguely remember a story from my childhood of a bearded man with followers who needed a break and took some of his friends out on a boat where some walking on water may or may not have occurred. Like I said, though, I don’t want to name any names or compare myself to any “savior” or ask anyone to call me “Messiah” (although that does have a nice ring to it) but I definitely get his need for space.

Ok, I think that’s enough blasphemy for the day.

When I decided to write another blog I was originally going to just give you an update on my life since the last time we talked (before you ask, yes, I am still addicted to Mountain Dew) but I realized that there was a much more pressing issue.

I have a coworker that I. Cannot. Stand.

In general, I’m fairly tolerant of other people’s stupidity. For instance, I’ve probably had multiple conversations with you.

But this lady—who we’ll call “B” for the purposes of anonymity—is potentially the most aggravating person I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.

She’s what I imagine would be the result if Anne Hathaway and Satan had a baby.

The first day that I met this lady, she had already informed me that she homeschooled all of her kids, gave me details about her divorce, and told me about her fiancé.

In the past few weeks she has expanded on that by talking about:

1.     Her and her new fiance’s sex life

a.     You’re 50+. No one wants to hear that

b.     We are nowhere near close enough for you to tell me this

c.      (and I cannot stress this one enough) I DON’T CARE

2.     Her trip up to the Boundary Waters to bail her son out of jail

3.     Her daughter’s mental instability as well as her pregnancy

4.     Her other daughter’s past drug use

5.     Her fiance’s daughter who is working in the oil fields and may or may not be a prostitute

6.     Her free range chickens which apparently roam all over the place (btw that’s filthy and you should be ashamed)

Every day she comes to share more and more and fails to notice that I don’t even pretend to care anymore. To be completely frank, I don’t even care that much about my friends’ lives, let alone B’s.

You see, B has made a common mistake.

She looks at my kind face and my gentle eyes and assumes that I give a shit about her life. She mistakes my ability to listen and politely respond as interest. She assumes that because I haven’t politely told her to shut her f@#$^%& mouth that I want her to talk.

WHY AM I CURSED WITH SUCH AN OPEN AND WELCOMING PERSONALITY!?

I guess the only way I can get her to stop with these shenanigans is to become a mean, sarcastic, unwelcoming person. It will be such a departure from my regular personality thought!

Let’s hope I’m a good enough actress to pull it off!

XOXO- Gossip Girl

Gracie Lou

It’s been quite a while since I last wrote a blog and I wish I were writing this one under better circumstances. Unfortunately, today’s is a eulogy for the late, great Gracie who we had to put down Friday afternoon at the grand old age of 11.

I don’t want you to feel bad for my loss though because I just feel bad for you that Gracie wasn’t your dog. Seriously. You missed out… sucker.

Seriously the coolest. Would your dog let you do that?

Gracie was the result of a solid year of lobbying for a dog (pulling the only child card works well, FYI), doing the research to determine which kind of dog would fit best with our family (we are NOT Chihuahua people), and showing my responsibility (I promised to walk her every day—this resolution lasted about 3 weeks before my dad took over walking duty). And finally, right around my 12^th birthday, we picked her up in Rapid City and drove her the 2 and a half hours back to Pierre during which time I rethought my entire position on having a dog. She had spent the first 7 weeks of her life in a kennel surrounded by other puppies and being covered in their bodily fluids. I spent the 2 and a half hours crammed into the back seat of the car with her as she rubbed all over me and vomited spectacularly every few miles from car sickness. She then spent the next few weeks acclimating to our house by alternating between peeing on the carpet and howling at the top of her little lungs. We eventually reached an understanding with each other wherein she (mostly) took care of her business outside and I rewarded her with copious amounts of treats.

I mean, how do you say "no" to begging like that?

Now should be the time where I talk about how well behaved she was and how she was a credit to the golden retriever name. That wasn’t really her style though… Honestly, she was a golden retriever in name only as she was never exactly able to grasp the concept of “retrieving.” She preferred playing “You throw it, I’ll go get it, then you come and try to get me” which resulted in 15 minute long games of her using the dining room table as a barrier between us which I chased her around before giving up. Later in life she also like the game “Go ahead and throw it. I’ll decide later if I actually want to go get it. And if I do go and get it, it will be in my own time and I may or may not bring it back to you.”

"Wait... I'm supposed to bring it back? That doesn't sound right..." 

The only place she actually did retrieve was at Her Beach. Not just any beach but Her Beach. If you tried to get her to fetch at any body of water other than her specific beach on Lake Oahe, she would look at you like you were stupid and then run off to find something dead to roll in. At Her Beach, however, you could throw stick after stick until you had thrown the equivalent of 9 innings of baseball and she would still be wanting more while you were asking for a cortisone shot.

All day, every day

Don’t get me wrong though, she did not have boundless energy. In fact, she perfected the art of “I’ll walk exactly as far as I want to walk and not one step further.” I can’t tell you how many times I took her for a walk and she would suddenly plant her feet and refuse to move. I could push, pull, bribe, or threaten and she would not move another step. However, if I said, “Ok, do you want to go home?” she would turn around and trot back to the house.

"I'm sorry. Were we in a hurry?" 

In fact, pretty much every thing was on her own time exactly as Her Majesty wanted it. When she felt it was time to be fed in the morning, she would walk up to the bed and whine until whoever was supposed to feed her got up. Did I mention she liked to be fed at 4 AM?

When she felt it was time to play, she would push her face completely to the bottom of her toy basket (because the toys on the bottom are the best, obviously), bring it to whoever she wanted to play with, and nuzzle into their hand until they gave in and played.

This is at 5 AM when she woke my friend up for play time 

When she felt it was time for her to be petted, she would paw the person ad nauseum until they petted her. And if it wasn’t up to her standards, she would continue to paw until the technique was up to par.

When she was ready to get in the car to leave, she would stand by the door and wait to be lifted in. This was partly due to old age and soreness but mostly because she was spoiled rotten and lazy.

And although my parents will kill me for revealing our deepest, darkest family secret, when the food was eaten off the dishes by the humans in the house, she was given them to lick off and therefore had a more sophisticated palate than 90% of South Dakota (1. Don’t worry, the dishes were all washed in the dishwasher on the most sanitary setting and my dog was cleaner than most people I know. 2. that is not a dig at South Dakotans, just a simple statement of fact that my parents cook and eat like kings)

If I haven’t already convinced you that Gracie was far and away the coolest dog ever, I’m sorry but you wouldn’t know greatness if it barked in your face (which Gracie would never do. I literally heard her bark less than 10 times her whole life). She spent the majority of her life chillin’ and finding the most unusual or in-the-way spots she could find to sleep.

Seems like a good spot

In the corner behind a chair? Sure

Against your pillow? Yes, please.

It's cool if I lay here, right?

I fricken hate you guys

Snuggling up

One of the last nights I was home, my parents, Gracie and I went downstairs to watch tv. I was sitting on one of the arms chairs minding my own business when Gracie came up to the chair and looked at me in a way that can only be described as a reproachful. I had forgotten that I was sitting in Her chair. I climbed out, stood up and walked to another seat while Gracie glared on. When I finally got out of her way, she climbed into the chair herself, looked at me for a while longer to remind me of how stupid I was, then closed her eyes and fell fast asleep. Next time I go home, I could sit in that chair if I wanted but I’d much rather being getting kicked out by the laziest 65 pound ball of fur in the world. Now excuse me while I go sob into my pillow while I look through all the Gracie pictures on my phone.

Gracie and her chair

Getting Rid of First World Problems

Listen, I’m all about helping people in third world countries. Look—I even wrote a blog about it (see Bill and Melinda? THIS is how you affect REAL change). But before we can fix problems across the world, we need to fix problems here at home.

Yes, you guessed it. I’m talking about putting an end to FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS.

(Note, this next section is ideally read while listening to Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” but that’s your choice)

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America is having to wait ten—maybe even twenty—seconds while their video buffers.

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America is having to listen to a commercial on Pandora. Or worse, ran out of song skips.

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America forgot to DVR that show they really wanted to see and it’s not playing again until next week. Sure, they could download it on iTunes but then they’d have pay $3.99 and, quite frankly, that price is ridiculous.

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America is stopped at red light even though they have somewhere they really need to be. Or maybe they just want to get home after a long day of work. It’s not really our place to judge them.

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America is standing in a clothing store trying to hold in the tears after finding the perfect outfit but discovering the store is out of their size. PS: seriously, stores? You can order 3,000 larges and up but you have a limit of 2 size smalls?

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America is waiting in a “Ten Items or Less” check out line as the person puts not 10, not 11, not even 12 but 13—THIRTEEN—items on the counter.

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America is having to decide whether they want soup OR salad with their meal. How is that fair? HOW IS THAT FAIR?

At this very moment, someone, somewhere in America is parking their car MORE THAN 20 FT from their destination. And then… they are having to WALK.

Really, America. How much longer can we stand for this? Or sit. Actually, yeah. We should all probably sit down. None of us are in the kind of shape that allows us to stand for long periods of time.

But trust me, our voices will be heard from our armchairs, beds, couches, and any other object that can support our weight. We will not take this sitting down!

Well, metaphorically speaking at least.

So how can you make a difference?

Complain!

Take to the media and let your voices be heard.

Call customer service representatives at Pottery Barn and let them know that the ottoman you ordered is more brown than cognac!

Leave a strongly worded comment on Amazon that your Twilight book set, DVD set, and Robert Pattinson cutout arrive TWO WHOLE DAYS after it was supposed to!

Make your facebook status about the unfair return policies of Forever 21 who fail to realize that you no longer want the top you bought 20 minutes ago!

Take to twitter to get #walmartoutofflaminhotcheetos trending worldwide to let everyone know the pain and suffering you went to when you had to get regular Cheetos instead!

Frankly, we First World-er’s have lived too long in the shadows.

Too long have we put the inability of third world nations to adequately feed their people over our inability to watch both Grey’s Anatomy AND Parks and Recreation live because they play at the same time.

Too long has the media been covering the uprisings in Egypt, Syria, and Turkey when they SHOULD be covering McDonald’s discontinuation of the McRib.

Too long have we heard about devastating natural disasters when we should be hearing about the fact we’ve only had a few days of bikini weather so far this year.

It’s time for us to let the world know that we want the attention we deserve!

Viva la Revolucion!