Padma Cuts Mike.

This week's Top Chef was awesome and infuriating for a couple reasons.

First, I heart the Ice Queen: Jennifer.

Second, I'm peeved about Ashley being quite the fairweather lesbian. Last week she's up in arms that Bravo, the gayest channel on TV, would dare "force" her, a voluntary cheftestant, to cook for a couple getting married, when gays can't get married, except for in Massachusetts (holla!), Iowa, Vermont, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Maine (don't you date pull a California, you former territory of Massachusetts). How dare they make a chef cook food for a customer who's done her no wrong! But... she'll gladly cook for the military, even though they won't let her serve, you know, cuz she's obviously telling. Oh right, because she might get shot at by bullets. Look, I'm all for picking and choosing your battles, but don't stand on an overarching principle one day and then conveniently forget about it the next just because you finally put on a clean pair of underwear.

And third, I hate Mike, the chef from DC. So how much did I fist-pump the air when Padma took out a bottle of whupass on him. Deal with the 30 second commercial, and then fast-forward to about 5 minutes remaining:



Padma, you had me at Padma.