Thursday, July 17, 2008


Anthony Bourdain, man. What is his deal? I love the guy, want to BE him, with his good looks and travel bug and curiousity and good nature and everything. Plus, if I've ever EATEN a book (devoured, happily) it was his Kitchen Confidential. Really, he (like Paul Theroux) is kind of a hero of mine.

But. Every single time I watch his "No Reservations" I get sick to my stomach. And this from a girl who almost never has an issue with queasy-making things. I watch dispassionately as I get blood drawn at the doctor every year (yawn). I care not if I realize that the sushi from last night wasn't exactly refrigerated properly as I pop raw fish into my mouth for breakfast. I truly hope to one day eat the deadly blowfish. And I never get sick. Unless it's from a sneeze in the elevator (I'm not special, not impervious to the science of sickness).

I need to really analyze what about his TV show invariably makes me nauseated. I hereby pledge to watch this season's adventures and figure it all out. This week: Columbia. Cool! Different! No longer dangerous! LOVE the idea. And yet, and yet. AB eats a nearly raw turtle egg, and the turtle turns out to be endangered. Oops! Oh well. And I was doing pretty well until.... "Crispy fried poop shoot." You heard me right. And I can't explain what it was because I had to just... walk away. More to follow. (And yes, I know, I should get a life).

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