There was a tragic period this past January here in Giddyland.  Seems Cablevision and Scribbs Network had a contractual dispute and on January 1st – The Food Network and HGTV were pulled from our service.  There was much bickering, mudslinging and blame tossed about as to who was at fault, but most people didn’t give a shit.  Hundreds of thousands of Long Islanders were without their favorite shows featuring other people cooking.

The Food Network is just sort of that place we seem to land on when nothing on the other 940 channels suits our fancy.  My wife is much more into the shows than I am, often trying out the recipes, including adding all of the ingredients for a particular dish into small glass bowls before dumping them into the pot, thereby increasing the daily volume of dishes that need to be washed.  Since our deal typically is, she cooks I clean up this particular habit has a direct effect on the amount of time my clean up chores will take.

Truth is, I can just as easily sit my lazy ass on the couch and watch the programs too.  I find them somewhat relaxing actually.  Something about watching someone else cookwhile you simply sit back and stare that just helps melt the stresses of the day away.

Except for one particular celebrity chef.

Giada De Laurentiis scares the shit out of me.

Seriously.  I mean sure, she’s a beautiful woman, and she seems like she can whip up a pretty tasty meal, but the fact that she’s always smiling worries me.  Frightens me actually.  I mean, it’s nice to smile, but even the most mundane kitchen tasks make Giada stretch out a toothy grin bright enough to blind the sun.

Think I’m insane?  Take five minutes and watch one of her shows – she’s on all the time and cooking some obscure Tuscan style plate that doesn’t look at all like spaghetti and meat sauce.  Here’s a typical scenario.

She’s in the kitchen preparing some sort of Italian chicken.  She’s got her hands shoved up the ass of the decapitated poultry and she’s scooping out the entrails into a nice ceramic bowl.  She tells a quick story of how this reminds her of caring for her sick Uncle Victrolio as a child in Rome.  Then she flashes a huge goofy grin.

Next thing you know, she’s mixing some garlic, crème fresh, sea salt and lemon wedges into the bowl of innards creating a toxic mixture that could melt the paint off a Buick.  It probably smells like Mario Batali’s ass but there’s Giada smiling like a crazy loon.  Oh, and God fuckin forbid if she actually eats something she’s just made.  Watch her toss a meat-like substance stuffed into a puff pastry into her mouth and she adds orgasmic moaning to the blazing wide smile.

Then there’s those shows where she’s feeding her friends.  They’re usually sitting around a table inexplicably placed in a mosquito infested field far out of the earshot of potential witnesses.  The group looks ready to piss their pants in fear while Giada smiles and serves them a slimy insect like delicacy and a plate of gruel with bread soaked in skunk urine.  She’s imploring them to eat and mesmerizing them with her constant flashing of those pearly whites.  There’s an abundance of wine endlessly pouring, with the occasional roofie no doubt slipped into the odd glass or two.  Her guests drink deeply from their glasses hoping that eventually the sweet grip of inebriation takes them to their personal happy place where they might escape the hold of Giada’s constant smile.

Do I think that the Food Network has placed Giada on our TV’s in an evil plot to destroy the world as we know it?  No.

Is it possible for one person to so thoroughly enjoy each and every meal they cook, even though it often includes bastard spices like Sweet Basil and Ground Paprika?  You wouldn’t think so.

Can Giada actually be a mutant alien sent down to over-emphasize every Italian phrase she sprinkles into her dialog? Probably not, although growing up in my Italian family most everyone tended to over-emphasize some warm and fuzzy phrases such as “che cazzo stai dicendo testa di merda?” Or, “affanculo!”

Look, there’s nothing wrong with smiling, it’s just that those that do it incessantly frighten me.

Like an evil laughing clown, their smile belies the evil that lies just beneath the surface.  You see Giada seems to be pretty handy with a knife, and I worry that one of these days someone is going to get filleted.  I’m confident either Rachel Ray or Bobby Flay could take Giada in a good old fashioned knife fight, but if she cornered poor old Paula Dean in the back corner of a bar, Paula would be half blind on Hurricanes and be no match for the demonic Italian chef.

Will we just sit back and wait for tragedy?  Or can she be stopped now before people are killed, and innocent lunch time ravioli’s are burnt?  I’d lend a hand, but like I said, Giada scares the crap out of me – I’m not getting involved.