Top Chump

One of Mark's favorite shows is on Bravo, Logo, or some other gay channel like that, and it's called 'Top Chef'. In Mark's mind, I think he thinks, he could beat most anybody on that show, and I don't disagree. In reality Mark's cooking is better than almost any restaurant meal I have ever eaten. I didn't gain fifty pounds sucking down Hamburger Helper, and Kraft macaroni and cheese. But Mark as a contestant on Top Chef? I don't know. Mark has a disposition that I don't think would take to the rejection and criticism of cooking competitively.

Last Friday, our favorite bartender, Tanner, suggested that Mark enter the bar's chili cook-off on Sunday. What a great idea I thought. Mark is so damn good, he would have a great chance at winning. So with my encouragement, and about fifty dollars, Mark went out and got all the ingredients he would need to make a kick-ass chili. After cooking all afternoon Saturday, and on Sunday morning putting the finishing touches on it, we carted Mark's delicious chili on up to the bar. All I can say is it was damn good. In addition to ground beef, Mark took a beef brisket and after pressure cooking it, shredded it and added it to the chili. Even with my bleeding ulcer, I couldn't stop myself from eating a large bowl of it. Unfortunately, the judges at the bar decided that another contestant's chili filled the bill as the winner. According to Mark the winner's chili tasted like, "Taco Bell on a bad day". I have to agree, it had that weird aftertaste to it that you only get when hitting the drive through after a night of sucking down vodka.

After a while, Mark accepted the fact that he lost, and a bar employee had won. Mark did have the consolation prize though, he won the people's choice award. The drunken bar patrons all favored his chili, and voted him the winner. Unfortunately when Mark went up to accept his prize, the third place contestant, who was shit faced drunk, came stumbling up claiming he was the winner, grabbed the prize, and staggered off into the sunset.

I can't imagine Mark competing on Top Chef. If what I witnessed yesterday is a small inkling of what to expect if he were to lose, then I don't want to live through that. No, if the bitch-fest I had to endure in the car on the way home is any example, I think he should just stick to fattening me up, and screw feeding a bunch of drunks at the neighborhood bar.