2015 National League East Predictions

One legit stud. Two pretentious challengers to the throne. Two flaming terds. No, that’s not the premise of Don Orsillo’s shitty debut foray into the erotic fiction market – that’s the National League East! Originally I wrote that joke using Jerry Remy instead, but I switched it because we all know that dude can’t read and write.

1. Washington Nationals – Everything you’d ever want in a professional baseball team: top of the line starting pitching, a deep lineup, a solid mix of youth and veteran savvy, a great ballpark, and nice hats. Just thinking about the Nats makes me swoon. I’m breathing repeatedly into a brown paper bag right now.
Booze Equivalent: A top-shelf martini made by an expert bartender.

2. Miami Marlins (wildcard) – Get past the scumbag owner, the shitty uniforms, and the tacky stadium that fleeced area taxpayers and there’s a lot to love here. The outfield is stacked, the rotation is solid, and the holes in the infield have mostly been patched. The Fish are looking feisty.
Booze Equivalent: A pitcher of delicious margaritas served in an old toilet bowl.

3. New York Mets - Michael Cuddyer is a perfectly fine major league ballplayer. When you sign Michael Cuddyer and he immediately becomes your second best hitter, however, you are fucked regardless of how good your rotation probably is.
Booze Equivalent: Harpoon Winter Warmer. Fun for a little while.

4. Atlanta Braves – Well. This is weird. The last time the Braves were this crappy, I was probably writing something childish and immature. That’s not at all like my life now. Ah, how the times do change!
Booze Equivalent: Jagermeister. What the fuck?

5. Philadelphia Phillies - Years of trying to force the championship window to stay open by shoving whatever crap they could find on the floor into the frame have left the Phillies a barren shell of their former selves. Jimmy Rollins is finally gone. Chase Utley’s probably next. Ryan Howard? That dude and his terrible contract will be here forever and it will be hilarious.
Booze Equivalent: Goldschlager. You know, the only thing worse than Jagermeister.

2015 American League West Predictions

The AL West is the NESN of Major League divisions. Don’t make me watch it drunk unless you’re ready to deal with some really stupid bitching on Facebook. There is, however, one team in this mess I am super excited to watch. In that regard, I guess the AL West is more appropriately described as Jenny Dell-era NESN. Sorry, Gary Streieiwieisisike.

1. Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim - Somebody’s got to win this tire fire. The of Anaheims are rapidly descending into Yankee-level payroll WTFness, but I think they’ve got just enough depth to stave that dystopian future off for another season.
Booze Equivalent: Josh Hamilton. What? Too soon? Fine.

2. Seattle Mariners - Robinson Cano and Kyle Seager and King Felix and…uh…Dustin Ackley, I guess? Oh, hey, Logan Morrison’s here too! Uh. Yeah.
Booze Equivalent: A mai tai made with too much skanky rum. Pretty good at the top, but when you get to the bottom…woof.

3. Oakland Athletics – Billy Beane’s gonna Billy Beane. It’s no surprise that Jon Lester and Jeff Samarzija are off to teams with more flattering hat designs, but the trade of Josh Donaldson to Toronto for Brett Lawrie and a few bags of balls is enough to make even the staunchest A’s supporter question the Gospel of Billy. Lawrie’s an under the radar sleeper and “Country Breakfast” Billy Butler gives them a much-needed DH with a fun nickname, but there just doesn’t seem to be enough pop here to back their young, deep pitching staff.
Booze Equivalent: Tonic water with lime. Turns out your roommate took the gin to a party and didn’t replace it.

4. Houston Astros - Ladies and gentlemen, the Jenny Dell of my AL West NESN analogy! Bet you didn’t see that coming. These scrubs are going to be a ton of fun. All they’re going to do is strikeout, blast dingers, and play Manny-level defense across wide swathes of the field. Sign me up and buy me one of those classy hats they wear.
Booze Equivalent: Fireball. Oh man, something ridiculous is about to happen and it is going to be glorious.

5. Texas Rangers – I just realized I have three Rangers in my fantasy team’s starting lineup. I’m boned.
Booze Equivalent: Bud Light. Punchless.

2015 American League Central Predictions

I don’t have an intro for the Central. I wrote you a song instead:

Jingle bells
NESN smells
Remy laid an egg
(Chorus: His restaurant near Fenway!)
Orsillo’s dumb, Lyons is a bum
And Jenny Dell got away!

1. Cleveland Indians - I’m a believer in the Stupid Name Axiom when it comes to baseball prospects. It’s a simple theory stating that if you’ve got a dumb name, you ain’t gonna make it. I never would’ve thought a dude named Corey Kluber would win the Cy Young. I mean, just look at that name. It belongs on some toolsy prospect that flames out after three successively worse years in Double A and tries to reinvent himself by learning a knuckleball, not one of the top starting pitchers in the league. But Corey Kluber’s good. The rest of his teammates and his manager are pretty solid, too.
Booze Equivalent – Insert your favorite high quality craft brew with a silly label here.

2. Detroit Tigers (wild card) – They’re old, their closer position’s got some sort of ERA busting STD, and they lost more good starting pitchers in the last six months than the Rockies have rostered in the last six years. Max Scherzer, Rick Porcello, and Drew Smyly are out. David Price gives them an ace to replace whatever’s left of Justin Verlander. Yoenis Cespedes lengthens the lineup after Ian Kinsler, Miguel Cabrera, and Victor Martinez. There just isn’t a ton of depth here, which means everything has to go right. It’ll go just right enough for an epic wildcard flameout.
Booze Equivalent – A Manhattan made with well liquor. Probably still good.

3. Kansas City Royals – Ugh, the Royals. Whatever.
Booze Equivalent – Sam Adams Cold Snap. Ok.

4. Chicago White Sox – These guys are getting interesting. Chris Sale, Jeff Samardzija, and Jose Quintana are a solid top of the rotation. Jose Abreu’s got some help in Melky Cabrera and Adam Laroche. But there’s no depth, the defense is a little suspect, and the division’s tight. Next year.
Booze Equivalent – Sam Lite. Not bad every now and then.

5. Minnesota Twins - Maybe they’ll call up super prospects Byron Buxton and Miguel Sano this year. That won’t get the Twins anywhere, but at least those two would be fun to watch.
Booze Equivalent – Home brew that’s almost ready. It would be interesting to sample as is, but just don’t.

If I ever let a girl drag me to paint night at Orleans…

…please drive me out into the middle of nowhere and put me out of my misery. For real. Just tell me it’s time to go, open the passenger side door for me, and wave me on in. All I ask is that you stop at Dunkin’s to get me one last iced coffee and put some sad Garth Brooks songs on the stereo. Fuck it, I’ll make sure there’s a playlist ready to go in my iPhone. I won’t fight it. I’ll have lost my will to go on.

Here’s the thing: I’m sure there are plenty of perfectly fine paint nights out there. I bet it’s a lovely sort of thing to do with friends and family. But here’s the catch: it has to happen in a location with some semblance of a soul. I’d totally go to paint night at, say, Sligo Pub (although every night at Sligo Pub is technically paint night if you’ve got a Sharpie and a few minutes to spend with the bathroom walls)(and we can expand this silly joke to include a full blown arts and crafts night depending on your opinion of carving up the tables). Paint night at Kowloon? Oh fuck yes. Get me a mai tai and sit me down next a bunch of chain smoking older women from the North Shore and I will paint the fuck out of a half-assed sunset with a giant smile on my face while they scratch tickets and bitch about that bastahd Chahlie who always gives them the wrong change at the gas station.

Paint night at Orleans? No way. I walk past that unholy ritual on my way home every Monday night. Every time I look in through those floor to ceiling windows, I find death staring back at me. Not literal death, mind you, but a sort of spiritual vacancy you only see in those who’ve given up. The activity is mechanical, devoid of all joy, a sort of human assembly line of vacant angst. Those painters…they’ve got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll’s eye. When he’s paintin’ away, he doesn’t seem to be livin’. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin’ and the ocean turns red and spite of all the poundin’ and the hollerin’ they all come in and rip you to pieces.

Misappropriated Quint quotes aside, it’s like walking past the day ward at the funny farm. They’re all just working away at their proscribed activity, doing it because they’ve got nothing better to do, and you can see the desperation emanating from them in waves like heat off the blacktop on a sunny August day. Orleans sucks and what should be a fun activity sucks because of it. Those people are fully aware of their plight deep down in the bowels of their psyches, but they’re in there anyway, just toiling along on their own instance of the project everyone else in the room is also focused on, hoping against hope that their result will somehow be different and better and unlock some deeper truth their neighbors are missing. Perhaps paint night at Orleans would be an apt metaphor for life if all the food in the universe sucked.

So yeah. Look out for me, dear friends. And don’t hesitate to do what’s necessary if the time ever comes. The Scott you used to know would’ve thanked you.

2015 American League East Predictions

I like baseball. I like booze. Therefore, I can make jokes comparing baseball teams to booze. Hooray! My super scientific advanced metric, the proprietary Booze Equivalent, is sweeping the sabermetric community like beer and chicken through the Red Sox pitching staff a few years ago. Hey yo!

True story: Billy Beane called me up the other day asking to license the Booze Equivalent for use in the A’s front office. I was all like “Bro you can have it if you trade for Jerry Remy” and he was like “Shit that guy sucks why would I do that” and I says “Dude that’s exactly why get him off my Red Sox broadcasts he’s a terd” and Billy goes “Nah kid why would I want a color commentator who can’t keep a restaurant with his own name on it running right up the street from his own ballpark” and I was like “Yeah dude that’s kinda why I want you to take him gosh” and Billy said “I’ll pass homie.”

1. Toronto Blue Jays – Say what? That’s right, kiddos: even though they’re Canadian and their top pitching prospect lives in a van parked behind a Wal-Mart, I’m taking the Jays this year. They’ve got more than enough thump and interesting young arms to reach the 87 or so wins the champion of this division likely needs. The American League East sure as shit ain’t what it used to be.

Booze Equivalent: Canadian Club Manhattans mixed in the back of Daniel Norris’s VW bus. Strong as shit and sounded like a good idea at the time. I always pick Toronto too high. And I fucking love Daniel Norris.

2. Boston Red Sox (wildcard) – Your attitude toward the Sox likely mirrors your attitude toward a pair of new timey baseball principles:

  1. Power (especially right handed power) is the rarest and most valuable skill in the game.
  2. Pitch framing is the absolute shit.

Boston’s counting on young catcher Christian Vasquez to turn a rotation of threes and fours into a solid group of twos while new additions Pablo Sandoval, Hanley Ramirez, and Rusney Castillo give chicks a lot of long balls to dig. This is a roster with a ton of question marks, which likely explains why they’ve yet to splurge on that expensive ace every Sully from Reveah has been screaming about on talk radio since Jon Lester signed with the Cubs. Bringing in a dude as portly as Sandoval to man the hot corner in a home ballpark within walking distance of approximately 500 Dunkin Donuts franchises seems like asking for trouble, and don’t even get me started on the hell those chuckleheads at NESN are about to unleash thanks to his nickname.

Booze Equivalent:  Magic Hat #9. Impossible to tell how skunked it is until you try it. If it’s fresh, you’re going to have a good time. If it’s not…get ready to dump it the fuck out and buy something else.

3. Baltimore Orioles – Outside of Chris Davis, Adam Jones, and Manny Machado, Baltimore’s had the most spectacularly unspectacular roster in the league. Pretty much everybody’s good or sneaky good but not really great. Their greatest strength has been their skill at mixing and matching parts as needed as the season goes along. The losses of Nelson Cruz and Nick Markakis will hurt. Their ceiling just isn’t as high as that of the two teams I picked above them.

Booze Equivalent: Pabst Blue Ribbon. Solid, but kind of boring. And how the hell did it win that ribbon in the first place?

4. New York Yankees – When’s the last time baseball had a better mega heel than Alex Rodriguez? I’m rooting for the scumbag. I want to see him hit .280 with 25 bombs, earn all his bonuses, get booed mercilessly everywhere he goes, and make every baseball old timer between Yankee Stadium and Safeco Field give him the stink eye. I kind of want to buy an A-Rod shersey and wear it everywhere I go just to get a rise out of people. Oh, and the rest of the Yankees are too old and too broken down to break .500. C.C Sabathia and Mark Teixeira will be carpooling to physical therapy by the middle of May and Michael Pineda’s still trying to wash the pine tar off his hands.

Booze Equivalent:  A $16 bottle of pinot noir with a cartoon villain on the label that was left open and unrefrigerated for a few weeks.

5. Tampa Bay Rays – This pains me. The Rays have been dear to my heart since they ditched the Devil. There’s talent here–especially in the rotation–but the departures of general manager Andrew Friedman and manager Joe Maddon along with slugger Wil Myers, perennial Cy Young candidate David Price, and super utility guy Ben Zobrist don’t bode well for the team’s immediate future. At least Raymond’s still delightful.

Booze Equivalent: A bottle of cheap vodka the kids have been refilling with water whenever they sneak drinks while mommy and daddy are out.

The Drunkard’s Guide to Davis Square

I’ve lived in or near Davis Square for seven years or so now. People tell me it’s the place to be. I don’t really see it any more, but I guess that’s ok. I’m still here more because I’m lazy than because I particularly like it.

You, however, are likely one of those people who hear about Davis and think it’s an exciting place to go out for food and drinks. You’re mostly wrong, but whatever. I know the scene and I’m about to school your ass on Somerville’s hippest (hey, it’s relative) neighborhood. Finally, my alcoholism and laziness have joined forces for the greater good!

Save It for the Third Date

Posto has easily the best food in the square. Pizza, pasta, a supposedly impressive wine collection–it’s a great date spot, but it doesn’t have much of a bar scene.

Spoke Wine Bar is small, cozy, and oddly classy in a way that isn’t obnoxiously pretentious. I mean, yeah, it’s still kind of pretentious, but it’s tolerable. Spoke’s solid menu of small plates and surprisingly decent beer list make it a good place to stop for a snack. If you’re a single dude, don’t go there by yourself unless you’re in the mood to have an array of yuppie couples look down at you and lonely cat ladies ogle you like you’re their latest knitting project.

Too Nice for You

Everything at Saloon just flat out costs too much. You won’t have a bad meal, but it’s not the sort of place you just drop into randomly. Lack of cellular service (it’s in the basement) is a huge negative.

The Rosebud American Kitchen and Grill is a place I typically avoid on principle. It fills a space that used to be a diner and a semi-attached dive bar. A recent remodel turned it into just another cookie-cutter “nice” restaurant with overpriced entrees and $12 cocktails that just happens to have an interesting front facade–in other words, it’s a total waste of a perfectly good diner car. The food’s good, though, and it’s worth stopping in for the pie alone.

Only If You’re Watching the Game

The Joshua Tree is the neighborhood’s premiere sports bar. Granted, choosing the best sports bar in Davis is kind of like picking out your favorite toenail, but whatever. It does the job. Just make sure you’re out of there before the Tufts rush around 10 on Friday and Saturday nights.

Just Right

Do yourself a favor and hit the Painted Burro. Some of the entrees are a little expensive for what they are, but you can’t go wrong with a couple tacos and a margarita. They’ve also got quality karaoke on Tuesday nights.

Five Horses fills the neighborhood’s beer bar niche. The food can be very hit or miss, but they’ve got good tater tots and a bigger beer list than anywhere else in town. Their regular door guy might just be the nicest person in Somerville.

Just Don’t

Orleans is that place you go when you’re over thirty and want to hang out with other people your own age. Then you go to Orleans and realize it sucks so you head to Sligo Pub and hope everybody in there thinks you’re 24.

Avoid The Foundry unless you’re an attractive lady who can get both the bartenders’ attention and a few bucks off the inflated tab. The service sucks otherwise and the food and drinks don’t make up for it. They have good bread and butter, if that’s any consolation. Please don’t go just for the bread and butter.

The King

Want some cheap booze with no bullshit? Itching to play some Buck Hunter? Don’t care about the quality of the pisser? Sligo Pub is perfect for you. Don’t bank on food unless you grab a burrito at Anna’s on your way. Rising rent prices and an ongoing invasion of stuck up douche bags is ruining the neighborhood, but there’s still one last bastion of High Life-pounding,  Fireball-shooting sanity in Davis Square.

Update: The Places I Missed in My First Draft

Guess you know how I feel about this spots, huh?

The Burren can be fun if you really, really want to slum it with a room full of Tufts kids dancing to reasonably well-covered hits of the 80s and 90s. Otherwise it’s nothing special.

Redbones and specifically its basement level, Underbones, would’ve been in consideration for the Just Right section but probably wouldn’t have made it. The beer selection’s top notch, but it’s a dark, cramped space that tends to get a little too crowded with the sort of amateurs who don’t do well in dark, cramped spaces. Most people like the food, but I’ve never been a fan.

Flatbread Company belongs in the date spot category with an asterisk. The food’s solid and it’s all made from locally sourced ingredients. The beer list is loaded with brews from the area and they make some fun cocktails. And there’s bowling! Two things hold it back a bit for me, though, both related to said bowling. First off, it’s  far too loud. Secondly, nothing is more disappointing than gearing up for an evening of candlepin and finding out there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to get a lane before closing time. When this place gets busy–which is often–it’s not worth the wait.

Scott Colby’s Guide to Online Dating, Part 1: Choosing a Site

I’ve done a lot of online dating on and off over the course of the last five years, to varying degrees of success.  I’ve been around the block a few times, son, and I’ve taken it upon myself to drop some knowledge on your ass in this however-many-parts-I-feel-like series.

Every online dating service is a little different. Any semi-literate bonehead can read an FAQ section to learn about a service’s feature set, but none of that carefully cultivated marketing copy will provide even the slightest clue about the most important thing to know about what you’re about to get into: the crowd, and specifically their expectations of the sort of people they’re going to meet. It doesn’t matter how many lines of code go into a matching algorithm if the people with whom it’s trying to pair you just ain’t your scene and vice versa.

So here’s the skinny. Start at the top of this list and work your way down until you find a fit.

  • Tinder is all you need if you’re really, really ridiculously good looking and capable of pulling compelling, humorous conversation out of your ass with little in the way of context to assist you. Fuck you.
  • Hinge works by attempting to match you with friends of your Facebook friends. It works well if you’re good looking and have lots of reputable pals. If all of your friends are scumbags and they’re friends with more scumbags, guess what happens. Although you’re probably a scumbag too in that scenario, so maybe this one’s perfect.
  • Do you like paying too much money to talk to spoiled Cape girls via a website with a UX design built by some intern who wasn’t invited back for a second semester? Match.com is definitely for you, especially if you like people who don’t roll their eyes at you when you talk about your “work hard, play hard!” lifestyle. I used to think I wanted to find a girl with a boat. Thanks to this service, I’ve had dates with several nautically inclined women. Now I know I really don’t want to go out with a girl with a boat. Thanks, Match.com!
  • eHarmony is great if you like paying out the ass to make lists of things. It has no other redeeming features, unless maybe you really like forest green.
  • Specialist sites like Christian Mingle, JDate, and Ashley Madison belong in this tier. I like to think this is the first time in Internet history that Jesus, Hannukah, and marital infidelity have been lumped together in one group, but I guarantee there’s erotic fan fiction about JC spinning the ol’ dreidel with some hot housewife from Aramithea out there somewhere. Don’t worry: my spot in hell was guaranteed long before I ever thought of this paragraph.
  • If you’ve made it this far, congratulations: you’re stuck with OkCupid, that hive of scum and villainy that makes Mos Eisley spaceport look like a bastion of learning and culture. It’s Faneuil Hall on a Saturday night except surrounded by a weird circle of crunchy hippies endlessly debating whether they want to dive into the debauchery.

Now that you’ve got a site, sign your ass up, build a profile, and watch the potential sweet lovin’ roll on into your inbox. What’s that? You don’t know how to build a profile? I can help with that too! Stay tuned for part two of this series, Building the Perfect Profile, coming next time or whenever the fuck I feel like it. Whichever comes first.

I Hope The Red Sox Don’t Sign Pablo Sandoval Because Then We’ll Have To Deal With Shit Like This

The Boston Red Sox and San Francisco Giants are reportedly the favorites to sign slugging third baseman Pablo Sandoval. I love Pablo Sandoval. He’s built like a fire hydrant that eats a box of donuts every four hours, but he’s surprisingly deft with the glove, he’s got a bazooka for an arm, and he’ll swing at pretty much anything–and usually hit it. Plus, he’s got a fantastic nickname: Kung Fu Panda.

It’s that nickname that makes me wary. Sure, it’s funky and cool and kind of cute…but just imagine what would happen if the chuckleheads at NESN got a hold of it. We’re talking about the evil masterminds behind the Wally Wave and those graphics that tell everybody Daniel Nava’s favorite restaurant is the Cheesecake Factory. Giving them a player nicknamed Kung Fu Panda is like handing them an incantation that’ll open up a portal to the deepest realms of hell. It’d probably go something like this…

Don Orsillo: Coming up to the plate…the Kung Fu Panda.
Jerry Remy: What did you say, Don? Something about Chinese food?
Orsillo: That’s Pablo Sandoval’s nickname: Kung Fu Panda.
Remy: Really? When I was playing guys had nicknames like Spike or Smoky.
Orsillo: It’s a new day, Jerry. Second basemen standing in right field, instant replay, players named for cartoons.
Remy: What cahtoon?
Orsillo: It’s called Kung Fu Panda. Your grandchildren haven’t made you watch it?
RemyI don’t know. I usually fall asleep. Is that the one with the fish?
Orsillo: No. He’s a panda, and he learns kung fu.
Remy: That’s like karate, right?
Orsillo: Kind of, Jerry. They’re both martial arts.
Remy: So why do they call him Kung Fu Panda?
Orsillo: Well, I bet it’s because he eats a lot of eucalyptus, like a panda. But now, let’s throw it down to Gary Striewski with a special report. Gary?
Gary: Thanks, Don. Panda-monium is sweeping Red Sox Nation. Today, NESN and Pablo Sandoval…well, we helped him make a new friend. Check this out!

Cue footage of Pablo Sandoval and Wally at Franklin Park Zoo with an actual panda. Wally offers the panda a high five and it stares at him blankly in response. Sandoval smiles awkwardly like he thinks he shorted.

Gary: Looks like the pandas had a great time! Back to you, Don!
Orsillo: Thanks, Gary. I almost couldn’t tell them apart!
Remy: The green one was Wally, Don.
Orsillo: I’ve just been told we made an error earlier. Pandas do not eat eucalyptus. They eat bamboo. Thanks to Twitter user @RedSoxSweetie for helping us out. Who knew?
Remy: Bamboo? I had that in a salad once out in Pittsburgh. You think Joseph Abboud’s ever dressed a panda, Don?

…and so on and so forth until your humble narrator hangs himself from the back porch with his David Ortiz jersey. So please, Mr. Sandoval, stay in San Francisco.

The Top Four Places in the Boston Area to Get Loaded Fast

Maybe you had a bad day at work. Maybe you’re having relationship or lack-of-a-relationship issues. Maybe it’s just Tuesday. Maybe all those Avril Lavigne songs you downloaded aren’t cheering you up like you used. Maybe–like your handsome narrator–you refuse to go to the God damn grocery store sober. Whatever the reason, sometimes you just need to get shithoused as quickly as possible. If you’re in the Boston area, I can help with that.

4. The Newtowne Grill
Order a mixed drink. Make it a double. Gaze in slack jawed wonder–and a little bit of fear–as the no-nonsense bartender fills your glass three quarters of the way up with booze and spritzes it with a mixer or two. Settle back, buy a Keno ticket, and discuss whatever game’s on the TV with some crusty drunk. Pray to whatever deity, force, or spirit you think might be listening that you don’t wake up next to any of the clientele the next morning.  Fun facts: the food here’s pretty good for the price and this may be the only bar in the 617 where it’s socially acceptable to wear your favorite Looney Tunes sweatshirt.

3. Rudy’s
If you really want to get trashed, don’t waste your time or your money in Davis Square. Walk the extra ten minutes to this old standby in Teele and bomb a couple margaritas. The majority of their house margs are under ten dollars. If you want to pace yourself a little, the hearty food will easily absorb about a margarita and a half.

2. Zuma
Let’s face it: going out for an after work drink downtown absolutely sucks, especially on a Thursday or Friday night. Seems like you’re going to be surrounded by business casual douche bags with portfolios and plastic skanks trying to get into those portfolios regardless of where you go. Luckily, there’s one fantastic exception to this rule: Zuma. Located in the basement of a building beside Faneuil Hall, most people don’t even realize it’s there. Hope you don’t mind tasting the tequila in your margaritas.

1. The Friendly Toast
Take two Deaths on the Installment Plan and thank me later. It tastes like a chocolate milkshake. It kicks like you’ve got an intravenous feed pouring liquor straight into your bloodstream. If you get a table, make sure you ask not to sit next to the creepy moving baby on the rocking horse.

Top Chef’s Boston Season Could Be A Lot Better

Top Chef’s latest season takes place in Boston, Massachusetts. Challenges so far have involved all sorts of touristy garbage, like cooking in Cheers and using “One if by land, two if by sea” as a means of determining ingredients.

I am not impressed. We need to fix this atrocity immediately and use the power of televised cooking competitions to show off the real Boston with the following challenges:

  • Cooking in a Dunkin’ Donuts using only the ingredients and equipment inside. It worked for Fred the Baker, so some sous chef with years of training should have no problem whipping up a delicious coq au vain in there. Winner gets $500 in Dunkin gift cards.
  • Cooking using only the ingredients the competitors can find on the Orange Line. No, I don’t mean in stores near Orange Line stops. I mean in the damn trains themselves. Winner gets to abandon one other competitor outside the station of his or her choice.
  • Each chef gets assigned a theme based on one of Route 1’s lovely establishments. Because nothing says fine cuisine like the Kowloon, Hooters, or the Golden Banana. Winner gets a mai tai and a Keno quick pick.
  • The cast is divided into teams of three. Each team gets a sausage cart and spot in Faneuil Hall at two A.M on a Saturday night. Winning team gets a private party at Coogan’s with bottomless Sam Light.
  • Cooking using only the ingredients Donnie Wahlberg was able to steal from Market Basket. Winner gets a parking spot in Southie.