So the season finale of Hell's Kitchen was last night, and it was good. But I miss Gordon Ramsay already. No one screams "Where's the LAMB SAUCE??!!" quite like he does.
So to fill the void of Ramsay's explosive temper in my life, I'm going to go on a Ramsay-page:
If I don't like the guy I'm on a date with, I'll just call him a "fat ass f*&%."
When the Starbucks barista glares at me for ordering my mocha wrong, I'll now refer to her as a "fat-mouthed @#$% cow."
When my hairdresser stops to talk on his cellphone while cutting my hair, I shall now call him a "bloody Muppet sh#@$head."
And when I'm stuck behind a slow driver, I'll yell at him to try a non-stick stick shift, because - after all - "that's why they call it non-stick!!!!"