The Day I Picked a Fight With Emeril and Got My Ass Kicked

I had gotten beligerently drunk in the hours preceding the taping of Emeril Live at the Food Network television studio in New York City. One gin and one beer every 45 minutes for three hours. I was pretty well plastered by the time my girlfriend dragged my soused ass into a taxi cab before we missed the start of the taping.

We got to the studio around dusk and were half an hour early for the show, just in time to get "audience lessons" from a cunt who looked like Ellen Degeneres with an even larger nose. So I'm kind of losing my buzz at the point that Mr. "I'm hot shit 'cause I've got a late night show but not really because I'm an annoying fucker" Emeril comes out to do a monologue, getting applause from his fanbois and all the fat bitches in the audience when he makes jokes only retards laugh at. The couple next to us brought their ugly mongoloid child that was staring at me for 5 minutes, so I gave it a mean look and it started to cry. Goddamn mouthbreathers and their retard toddlers. Go play in Central Park or something.

So I watch him spread butter on corn muffins or some shit for like half an hour. Then I actually get lucky: Emeril is going to serve us this Brazilian Rum, because his parents were Portuguese you see. Anyhoo, it ends up tasting like a girl drink. Pretty good stuff. I'm starting to warm up to this guy. In fact, I had never felt like this about a man until that drowsy intoxicating evening. The way that he would contort his face, his unique humming style while he prepared the food, was all starting to grow on me. I found myself laughing my balls off at every little crappy joke that fell out of his greasy fat face. I had to bring this guy back with us to our hotel.



So he finished up the show and starts to give autographs. I come up with my girlfriend still a little tipsy.

"Hey sailor, my girl really likes you. Could you give her your autograph?"

"But of coursh, whatsh your name sweetaht?"

"Fran. I love your show."

So I find myself asking
"Hey man, where did you get that Umbiglio stuff from? Would you like to come back to our hotel?"

I grab at his crotch and touch the top of his package on his pants and he gets really fucking furious and hits me with this wooden spoon that has an autograph pen on the handle. What a bastard.

So I get real enraged but can't keep my balance too well and take a swing at him. The stubby bastard ducks out of the way and I fall on my face! Then he starts kicking the shit out of me and has security throw me out on my ass.

"BAM!, motherfucka! I just kicked it up a notch!"

And just my luck, it begins snowing and I have a bloody nose and my side hurts. I didn't see my girlfriend until 2AM when she came home. I found black Portuguese pubic hairs and yellow Portuguese ejaculate on her underwear. Fucking bitch slept with Fat Emeril and didn't even share. So I punched her in the teeth and she ran away sobbing

"OOooooh hooooo hoooooooo!"

into the hallway. She's got a restraining order on me now, but I'm thinking about leaving roadkill on her doorstep for the next couple nights.