Possums, our Mama said there'd be days like this, and that there's many a slip 'twixt the B-cup and the nip, but we had no idea that there would be such a day or such a nip-slip as this.
Imagine our distress, possums, when, overnight, a Not-So-Gentle Reader anonymously posted this comment:
I was told to read this blog as the "funniest thing about Top Chef" so here I am but I find, instead, a celebrity gossip column whose readers get off by speculating about a woman's nipples and a man's "hidden assets." You people are low-life creeps. One visit is quite enough.
Possums, to the extent that you are responsible for Little Sheba's reaction, we are shocked, shocked. All along, our mission has been, and we have strived, to keep you abreast of the latest Top Chef news. Our veins o'erflow with the milk of human kindness, and we have been told there is an areola of goodness 'round our heads. Tittle-tattle and tit for tat simply aren't our style. We have never sought to make mountains out of molehills. Support for the show has been our only goal. Indeed, charity and love were e'er in our bosom, and we have never nursed a grievance, but, apparently, it has been for naught. We have failed Little Sheba, but we ask for her forgiveness. Come back, Little Sheba, come back, and let us clasp you to our, well, let us at any rate clasp your hand in friendship.