In the Midst of a Dissociative Fugue State, Raggaydy Andy Promises Bombs Over Fag-Hag and Wonders About the Size of Hung Huynh's Geoduck

Among our guilty, lowbrow pleasures--pork rinds, the movie Bring It On--we always like to save room for those occasions when Bravo blogger cum VP Raggaydy Andy enters one of his dissociative fugue states and starts talking to himself.

Fortunately for him, he is doing his muttering in Aspen, Colorado, while the Top Chef finale films, rather than wandering through the East Village shaking his fist.

(How do we know he's in Aspen? Call it an educated guess. Andy--well, one of the Andies (Andes?)--says it is 2:55 a.m., and he is "on the set of a hit Bravo reality show" and, as we mentioned yesterday, Top Chef is filming in Aspen right now. Besides, as Scooter Libby so famously wrote, Aspen is turning, and turning in clusters, because its roots are connected.)

The nice thing about these dissociative fugues of Andy's is that his filters are even less effective than usual. And so, we get to watch him play with himself in a game of word association. The most revealing (and not just in terms of being placed right next to each other):

HUNG: hung? LISA RINNA: sphincter

Well, maybe we're leaping to conclusions. After all, as Dr. Freud must have said, "Sometimes a dick next to a sphincter is just that." (We were going to go for a cheap Cheney-Bush joke, but we're feeling cheap enough this morning as it is.)

Andy also reveals that tonight's episode of Top Chef will feature tears (well, duh; after all, Casey Thompson's still in this, but maybe she'll be crying for herself tonight), and we "find out who is Dale's best galpal in the house" (ah, so maybe Casey will be crying because she's been out-faghagged; possum, we warned you about those highlights). In a fight between Casey Thompson and Sara Nguyen, though, our money's on Casey. That pseudo-Pucci scarf she's always wearing? We're convinced it's a garrote. And that smile? It's pure Kathleen Turner in Serial Mom. In other words, we can't wait.

Amuse-Biatch Photoessay: Bazoom Buddies

"Look, Casey. Mine are big, too."

Butch(er) Knife: Rosie O'Donnell Shows Marcel Vigneron That She is a Woman of Steel

Amuse-Biatch Shameless Plug: Carlos Fernandez for Fan Favorite

Although we love our paisana Elia Aboumrad, it is no secret that, from the very beginning, our wee, wizened bloggers’ hearts have belonged to one man, our Chulo Chef, Carlos Fernandez. Heck, from day one, Miss XaXa* proclaimed herself his BFF (Best Fruit Fly), and will tear the weave off anyone who tries to take her title away. And so it should come as no surprise that we are blatantly, shamelessly, giddily stumping for Carlos in the Fan Favorite contest.

The XaXa for Chulo PAC met this morning over a café cortado and pan dulce, and decided to jump into the fray. Maybe Don Carlos wasn’t fated to be the Top Chef, but he was a gentleman, a true caballero cubano, to the end. He demonstrated, along with our Elia Aboumrad and Michael “Beer Bong” Midgley, that it is possible to compete in the volatile and stressful atmosphere of the kitchen without turning into a rabid member of a baying pack of hounds. For that alone, he deserves the $10,000 prize. (And for reminding us, when we see this photograph, of what’s better than roses on your piano.)

So be sure to vote for our Chulo Chef, Carlos Fernandez, at http://bravotv.com as Fan Favorite.

* For those of you who have asked, it's pronounced "Cha-Cha," as in the immortal Eartha Kitt disco classic, "Cha-Cha Heels."

The Cherce Bits: Marcel Vigneron Goes Pinkie a Pinkie with Raggaydy Andy, Throws Elia Aboumrad Under the Bus

Our beloved, button-eyed, busily Blackberrying Bravo VP, Raggaydy Andy Cohen, is threatening to become the Barbara Walters of gay network exec bloggers. We hereby rifle through his hard-won booty and pilfer the choicest bits of his interview with Marcel Vigneron.

Marcel on his good friend and only ally, Elia Aboumrad:

If anyone was going to go it should've been the leader. Sam got a bunch of knives for winning and so it seems like the loser should be Elia....Also at the same time Elia was the leader so she should've gone home. I am not gonna say Sam didn't deserve it.

Marcel on his mother:

My mom is actually hearing impaired....

Marcel on why he thinks his fellow cheftestants seem genuinely to dislike him:

Million dollar question right there! I honestly don't know. I could try and come up with a couple theories but I don't really know because I think I am a likeable person and fairly social. I have friends and people like me who meet me....The whole arrogance thing comes through, too, apparently. I don't really think I was entirely too arrogant. Granted, I am confident. I have dedicated the last decade to gastronomy so that comes through in my interviews and then my interactions with the other chefs. I think that could've been a huge factor. I am not exactly sure why. I think they saw me as a threat and decided if they all gang up against me they could get me eliminated. Everyone has pacts on "Survivor" and they turn against people. Top Chef is different, it's about the food.

Marcel on friendships with fellow cheftestants:

Elia and I were friends and would talk. I went out to NYC and hung out with Sam a few times after the show. Josie and I are friends and still talk. All toothbrushes aside, I think Frank likes me but you don't see a lot of that.

Marcel on viewer response:

People like me on the street! I haven't received hate mail.. fans come up to me and like what I'm doing on the show and say I am the only one with a backbone. There was one lady who said "You're that prick on the TV show..."

Marcel on his hair:

I've been rockin' this style for five or six years now. It's heavily trained. It has a mind of it's [sic] own, Andy. I have a unique personality and try to do things differently and it comes through in my food, personality, character traits, and I guess hair. If someone combs their hair down I will comb mine up.

Marcel on whether he has a girlfriend:

Not so much! There are friendly ladies in my life but I don't have a girlfriend, per se.

'Ray of Light' Pierces Amuse-Biatch's Dark Disco Night of the Soul

And no, for once we're not talking about Madonna's techno-flavored album.

As you may know, we've been most troubled since witnessing Marcel Vigneron's Immunity Dance. We spent a sleepless night, wringing our hands in their Borghese Moisture Restoring Gloves and shredding peacock feathers. How could we have been so wrong about Marcel? How could our gaydar lead us so far astray?

And then the voices of reason began to prevail. Reader (and self-avowed Gay) Laz cautioned caution--"let's not be hasty here." Both our pal Eric3000 and his Eric3001 reminded us that guest chef "Raphael [Lunetta] and Marcel are totally staring at each other like they are in love." Laz also pointed out that Marcel "was practically undressing guest chef Rafael with his eyes when he was declared the winner." Ms. Place, too, chimed in with practical Dutch wisdom.

Thus fortified, we reviewed the episode once more, and things began to pop out at us. The sisterly interpretative dance by the seashore, and Miss Elia Aboumrad's protectiveness of him on previous shows? We recognized it at once from high school. Why, of course, it was the "kooky, artsy girl protects fey fledgling homo from the bashing jocks until he realizes for himself that the pigskin bus should be pulling not into Tunatown but into Funkytown" scenario all over again. Elia is really acting in the best traditions of the Drosophila Sorority (darlings, we like our fruitflies to have their Latin tags).

And then there were Marcel's exchanges with the surfers, trying out his idea of "surfer" lingo, "brah" and "bro" and all the rest. Why, what was that, if not the classic "trying to butch it up by using the same words straight guys use"? And Marcel sounded just as convincing as all the other gay boys who try that. (Seriously, the next time a gay man greets us with, "'Sup, bro?", we are going to beat him senseless with his own Abercrombie & Fitch flipflop.)

And when we happened upon the above picture of Marcel's attempts to butch it up, the clouds parted and Madonna's "Ray of Light" began playing. Of the many sentiments to be read on his face, one was clear. We could tell he was a little sorry to be talking to the scrawny chap, and not to the other one, you know the one we mean, the one with the meaty pecs, the beau-laid proboscis, and perfect (if undersized) nipples. Yes, him, that's the one.

When we showed Miss XaXa the photograph, she said, "See? You had nothing to worry about." As she put it, "I don't know if what Marcel is doing with his hand is supposed to mean hang ten or hung 10", but it definitely involves digits. And with his pinkie up, it looks like he's drinking tea. And we all know what it means when you drink tea with your pinkie up.... "

"We do?" we asked rhetorically, hurriedly placing our Sèvres teacup on its saucer.

"You can ring my be-ee-ee-ee-ll, ring my bell," sang Miss XaXa in her sauciest Anita Ward imitation, wagging her pinkie at us.

And just like that, amidst much blushing, Amuse-Biatch's dark disco night of the soul came to an end.