Kitchen Nightmares
Sebastian's

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Sebastian's

Gordon Ramsay's Bleep-O-Fucking-Meter: 32

Man, it's been awhile; I hope I remember how to type. So, while I was working 13-hour days cooking for Jacques P├ępin's new cooking show and remembering just why I never want to be a restaurant chef, the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. Fitting, isn't it? That Ramsay reams a Red Sox sympathizer after being tossed off Fox's venereal airways for a few weeks because of the Boston Red Sox? Don't get me wrong, I'm psyched for the quick -- if not horrifically boring -- victory, but it's eerily coincidental.

Okay, so this week we've got Sebastian's, and never mind that the name alone conjures up Spanish moss and lobotomies and Liz Taylor's reminiscences of mob cannibalism in Spain, this "neighborhood pizzeria" is located in BEAUTIFUL DOWNTOWN BURBANK! Oh, like you can hear "Burbank" without going all Rowan & Martin. The area is, as Mr. Voice-Over tells us, "home to major Hollywood studios whose employees enjoy dining and making deals at the local restaurants." And striking! Don't forget the striking! Although I don't believe there is much enjoying going on there, you know? Now, can someone please tell me why it has to be that, as soon as we leave the relative safety of the black-clad in New York, one of our first fashion glimpses of California has to be of some woman wearing shorts that are all cragged up in her vageen? I suppose it's a not-at-all-subtle reminder to restock your Monistat. Um, stat.

Meanwhile, while Sebastian's enjoys prime real estate of sorts, it's apparently in need of Ramsay's tenderizing touch. (Do I really need to mention that Sebastian himself and practically all of his staff are actors or performers in some shape or form?) As Sebastian serves up massive mounds of chili fries, screws up a sandwich order, and does something to beef that's a triple-starred no-no in the Geneva Conventions, he tells us that he can cook anything, his ability is "endless," and he treats his staff with a great deal of respect. Lou-Bertha, his manager/cook, tells us that when Sebastian gets angry, you might see pans fly across the kitchen. Yeah, but do they hit you? See? Respect. Other staff members weigh in on ways Sebastian scares them or is otherwise a bit of a douche. Sebastian tells us, "I just don't deal with crap. I don't." Of course you don't, honey, you just serve it. Defrosted.

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Kitchen Nightmares

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