Testimonials

Piano music tinkles and the lighting in the interview room softens. The Good Son gets tears in his eyes as he tells us that McCool's is hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt and his father stands to lose everything he's worked for his entire life if this place fails. And he's not the only one. Going to bed at night not knowing if you're gonna be able to pay the mortgage is more stress...deep breath...than you can understand! WAAAHHH. I don't mean to make light of the McBuddy Family's situation, but I have to ask. What the hell is a bartender doing with a mortgage? I work at a restaurant and can barely pay the cable bill. This guy doesn't need Gordon Ramsay, he needs to make his wife call Suze Orman. Bad purchases aside, the entire McBuddy clan is screwed.

Buddy is happy that Gordon Ramsay's coming. If customers actually started to frequent McCool's and the pub saw a little profit, it would be gravy. Buddy's just psyched to finally have someone around to properly tell off his moron kid. Cut to The Bad Son chugging beers and making extremely poor versions of every nasty looking kind of fried food ever invented. If you can get me to say something against fried food, you've really accomplished something. Congrats, Bad Son!

That music that played when Chloe O'Brian got out of CTU for a couple of hours to help Jack in the field booms as our man on a mission rides into the desolate town, vowing to repopulate it and stop the Russians from unleashing a killer fat uggo virus that affects the entire area. Again. Gordo walks up to McCool's and shakes his head. This place looks like a funeral parlor. He squeezes his face in that "this one might just be out of my grasp" way that he does every week. The situation is dire for the McBuddy family, but he's going in! Duhn duhn duhhhhhn!

And just like that, the music switches to an Irish Jig as Gordo takes a look around and breathes in a little bit of the (Heeey! Hooo! Wooooah!) environment. Buddy is hesitant about meeting Chef Ramsay because he's afraid he might be an intense bastard who would yell at everyone, or as he puts it, an "egoman". What would have ever given you that idea, dude? Your TV?? Bad Son is already defensive. He knows what he's (getting drunk) doing and doesn't need any (rehab) help (wide-eyed lost in the desert blink). Carol, the waitress, is all aquiver when she meets Gordo. She tells us "I'd love to get my hands on him." Dang, sista. He'll most likely be taking off his shirt at some point in this episode. Stay tuned. Gordo has an extremely potent rejuvenation power over golden girls, and it's both charming and disturbing to witness.

Who watered your flower?

He gets the staff gathered in the bar area and opens up the floor to discussion. Turns out that was a big mistake. "Bad Son's fault!" "Whaddya doin' do your job or get the fuck out!" "That's crap!" "I godda do what I godda do!" "You're an ass!" "You ah!" "They fuck ya at the drive-thruuuu!" Joe Pesci would be proud. Gordo asks for specific instances of Bad Son being an idiot and the shouting starts up again. Well, the problem with the staff is obvious. Time to eat.

Gordo asks Melissa if the clams are fresh and, as if she watched Sebastian dig his own grave last week, she decides to go with the truth. Frozen. He decides on salmon, then the shepard's pie, and he'll start with the spring rolls. Melissa nods enthusiastically at that one. "Good choice!" Over-enthusiastic waiters who cheer you on as you order as if there are right and wrong answers really piss me off. I'm thrilled I got one right, now can you bring me some bread? Good choice!

Melissa takes the order back to the kitchen, where Bad Son is chugging a beer. She sarcastically suggests that she'd like to see him and Gordo have a chug-off. He says he would drink Ramsay under the table and tuck him into bed! Maniacal giggle ball scratch burp.

Ew.

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Posted in Kitchen Nightmares by Flipit at 9:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)
Last Comment: dingfriesaredone on Nov 22, 2007 10:32 PM.