No More Porn for Me

In a fit of familial improvement, I canceled our Dish satellite service a couple of weeks ago even though we still had a several months left on our contract. It was a little painful the first day or two, but life went on and I haven't felt a morsel of regret yet for cutting off the media mayhem. But I would be fibbing if I told you I still didn't miss watching TV sometimes.

It's Food Network that I miss the most. Even if I have no intention of going near my kitchen much less trying to recreate the recipes I see, I love me some Food Network.

It's porn for dieters. Delicious, entertaining, mouth-watering porn.

I knew I had a problem. I just couldn't get enough of the Food Network. But when it comes to Food Network sometimes its the cooks, chefs, and TV personalities that leave a bad taste in my mouth. Not the food.

Giada.


Too perfect. Too...perky. I ask you, how can she be that skinny? She makes pasta with sauces and cheeses for crying out loud. And for heaven's sake, can the smile lady! My eyes hurt from its blazing rays.

Bobby Flay.


Brilliant. But cranky. He needs to take a hint from Giada. Smile once in awhile, buddy.

Paula Deen.


If I have to hear "ya'all" one more time I'm going to dip myself in the vat of boiling grease she uses so often. Though, the woman does know how to put a stick of butter to use.

Sandra Lee.


I hear AA is nice. She can't seem to do a single show without an accompanying beverage. Who knew alcohol could be served with breakfast?

Pat and Gina Neely.


A husband and wife duo who somehow manage to make "porn for dieters" feel almost like real porn. Get a room, you two.

Anne Burrell.


I like her recipes, but I can hardly pay attention to her cooking as I am so darn distracted by her incessant and obnoxious hand gestures. It's even more riveting when she's wielding a knife or two in those hands.

Guy Fieri and Anne Burrell.


They probably share DNA. And hair products.

Ina Garten of Barefoot Contessa.


Now here's a lady I can relate to. The woman is "fluffy". This makes me think she actually eats the things she makes. What's that saying about never trust a skinny cook? Exactly.

I've done myself a double favor in cutting off my porn Food Network TV.

I used to watch Iron Chef right before going to bed.


Then I would lay in bed unable to sleep from all the anxiety I had collected from the show. Once I did fall asleep I had restless nightmares of being trapped in a kitchen prison with a huge red-digit clock ticking away, counting down to my certain doom:

A death match with Anne Burrell and her knifed hand gestures.

Or being impaled on Guy Fieri's bleached hair spikes. Or burned at the stake by Giada's gruesome grin.

Or rendered unconcious and lifeless from the stench of Mario Batali's crocs.



All hideous ways to go.

I was kind of hoping if I were going to suffer a food-related death, it would be because I had drowned in a pool of chocolate.