Poor Trail-“Blazering” Rocco DiSpirito Was Beaten Up by Hooligans as a Kid; Now That He’s 42 (!!), He Gets Beaten Up by Bloggers and Chefs

You’re in luck this morning, possums. The New York Times has published a delicious, bitchy, Schadenfreude-laden rum ball of an article on Rocco DiSpirito. Giggle or shake your head in sadness as you try to decide whether Rocco is trying to convince himself and people that he’s shallower than he is, or was once trying to convince himself and people that he was deeper than he really was.

Our favorite bit, though, is the emblematic disconnect between Rocco’s statements and his fashion statements. In the article, Rocco says, “I was the kid in the maroon blazer on the way to Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Catholic school, in between one gang and another gang, and it was like, How did I want to get beat up today?” And so, of course, on his first trip back to Jamaica, Queens, in 20 years, what does he wear? As you can see from the picture above, a tweed blazer. Is Rocco secretly a masochist? Is he looking to get beaten up? Inquiring minds want to know.

Amuse-Biatch Be-‘wiched, Extremely Bothered, and Definitely Bewildered as Tom Colicchio Shares Wicked ‘Wichcraft with the Antichrist

Possums, we know just how much Tom Colicchio enjoys making sandwiches with the high-profile women of the food world, but we had no idea things had dEVOOlved to this point. This definitely takes the muffaletta. And is it as a tribute to Tom's New Jersey roots that Rachael Ray decided to dress as a Mafia wife from The Sopranos? And is it us, or is Tom looking a little thinner? Oh what a diet of "sandwiches" will do! Just ask Jared.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Five: Mythology: Ryan's Hope Becomes Ryan Idle

Well, that was short-lived.

While watching Ryan Scott's video profile on Bravotv.com, Miss XaXa was driven by exasperation to quote Edina Margaret Rose Monsoon from AbFab: "You only work in a sandwich shop, you know; you can drop the attitude."

Well, possums, it seems he doesn't even work in a sandwich shop anymore.

Eater SF is reporting that Ryan is leaving his job at Myth Cafe. His last day making sexy, seasonal, simple sandwiches will be next Friday, March 14, two days after the premiere of Top Chef.

Eater SF also reports that Ryan is starting a new venture called Ryan Scott 2Go: "No further details are available on the enterprise, though you can probably make some inferences based on the name alone (surely, an escort service)."

Undoubtedly untrue, that last bit, but people can dream, can't they? For her part, Miss XaXa wonders, "2Go where? And is there a list of toppings?"

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Two: More Memoirs of a Gaysian?

Possums, it really is our fault.

Given our day job, we ought to have parsed the language more carefully before surrendering to despair.

The bit from AfterElton.com that caused all the gnashing of veneers says that “there are no openly gay men on this season….” (emphasis added). But of course!

Indeed, once Miss XaXa had a proper look at the picture of cheftestant Dale Talde that Bravo posted on its website, in which he exhibits a case of gayface so pronounced that it might as well appear in a medical textbook, she turned on one Louboutin heel and said, “Mmm-hmmm!”

Then, taking our hand and talking gently to us, as if we were a dimwitted child, she said, “His name is Dale. He’s from Chicago. Do the math.”

Then, on Eater.com, we found postings in which Dale Talde is described as “rude,” “evil,” “brilliant,” “temperamental,” “mean,” and “totally nuts.”

Ladies, gentlemen and possums, we have a winner.

And last season we were proven right about Hung Huynh in this respect, so you never know.

Still, isn’t it a tad lazy on Bravo’s part to give us another potentially Gaysian villain in the kitchen? If the judges or other contestants start talking about how Dale’s cooking is technically accomplished but lacks soul, we’re going to call for somebody to be given the Chinese water torture.

Oh, and confidential to Dale: Possum, we would be angry with Bravo not just for the gayface pic--and the belt buckle thing; remember this picture of Gaysian Top Design contestant Goil Amornvivat? Coincidence?--but also for this line in your profile: “A motto that drives Dale is ‘expect perfection ,[sic] because if you fall short your [sic] left with greatness.”

On second thought, by your logic, that sentence isn’t perfect, so it must be great.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day One: Let the Flaming Begin

Possums, before Top Chef premieres 12 days from now, we might as well come out and say something to you, and to Mr. Andrew Cohen of Bravo, aka Raggaydy Andy. We, for one, intend to complain to the FCC, the FTC, and the FFC—

“Wait, what’s the FFC?” interrupted Miss Xaxa.

“The Fairies & Fruitflies Commission.”

“Is that a federal agency?”

“No, but that won’t stop us from making a federal case out of this.”

And what are we going to complain about?

Why, false advertising, of course.

For several weeks now, we’ve been bombarded with ads for the Chicago-filmed fourth season of Top Chef featuring Tom Colicchio and Padma Lakshmi moving slowly and ominously, as though in a Madonna video, through an orange set that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the original Starship Enterprise. How any of this is supposed to signify Chicago is beyond us, but it’s the tagline that gets us: “Let the flames begin.”

For, you see, possums, we learned that “there are no openly gay men on this season (a first since Season 1).”

Qué what???

“Wait,” said Miss XaXa, “isn’t this Bravo?”

Exactly.

Oh, Raggaydy Andy, what will you say when Kathy Griffin asks, “Where are my gays?”

We had a look at all the cheftestant bios and videos, and nary a homosexual among the chaps. In fact, most of them seem rather dull. Let the flames begin, indeed! ‘Tis false advertising, we say.

Bravo makes a Classical allusion with its “Let the flames begin” tagline for this season, but, having had a gander at the cheftestants, we fear that another Classical tag may be more apt: We who are about to die—of boredom—salute you.

We haven’t abandoned all hope for the season, of course. Still, as RuPaul might have commanded, “Flambé, chantez!” Raggaydy Andy, you’d better work.