FlipitTypes TV – Recaps, Gossip, and Trash Talk

I have never, ever, ever met someone I believed in as little as you.

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Another season of Top Chef has come to an end, but there are still lots of questions left unanswered. Why did Cliff get so violent with Marcel? Why did Frank drink so much? And how in the HELL did Ilan win this thing? Wait. Sorry. That was last year. There wasn’t too much drama this season, just a lot of passive aggression and, gasp, cooking. Don’t worry, though. This cast may not have given us fireworks, but it’s the most sensitive group to date which means there are lots of hurt feelings that need to be (quietly) talked out now that all’s said and done. God, please let me see Baldhawk cry. Love, Flipit.

Aw, Dawson. Let it out.

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It’s finally that time! This season, we’ve had weeks off, a filler episode starring Ilan (still haven’t forgiven you, Bravo) and an unfulfilled double elimination. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted!
This week, Top Chef taught us you should never let a caveman touch your food, being really high changes everything, and a grandfather who escaped Vietnam trumps a boring old French grandmother any day.

Game on!!

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The Fox Reality Awards were held last night in Hollywood, and those suckas let me, ChickBomb and our good friend and local hero Trisha in to make trouble. We were skeptical at first. Trisha took one look around the room and said “How can you tell who anyone is under all those layers of makeup? It’s like a room of casserole faces.”
Everyone was really nice, like they had no idea we were just going to come home and make fun of them with you. Hullo. Smarten up, reality stars! You will notice that there are zero pictures of Chickbomb in this article. Sorry, but she insists on maintaining her private life. Instead, you will get me, my eight chins, and Trisha. Let’s get to it!

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This week, Top Chef taught us trout isn’t a fish, too many patterns are a bad sign, and if you wanna win a reality show, ya gotta have heart.

I vant to eat your zoul.

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