Hey baby, why don’t we slow things down just a little bit. Man can’t live on De Leon alone, you know? Sometimes he needs something a little bit sweet in his life. So why don’t we spend some time together.

Soundtrack: Hall & Oates
Catering: Alison from Mizuna
Slow-motion enjoyment of the best cheesecake you’ve never had: Me

Jump over to DTE to congratulate him on a mediocre run!

Oh yeah, last night we undertook a side-challenge — each contestant blended his or her ingredients together and drank them from martini glasses. Witness Andrew VS Bart and Becky VS Geneva above, with Paul VS Remi and Mariah VS Mark coming tomorrow.

As it is, we are all, to my knowledge, still in there. Yes, even me. Yes, I tried to sabotage Bart. Yes, I still hold out hope I succeeded. Anyway! Witness everybody’s progress by checking their blogs above.

So there I am, minding my own business and watching one of EW’s “new classic” films, when I discover that Remi has recorded an homage to my short film. Admittedly, it was a stroke of brilliance. And it leaves me with no choice but to escalate.

A word of warning: Actual beers were harmed during the filming of this event. If Remi’s going out, he’s going out with a flourish, not a question mark. So consider this clip “Funny Games” to Remi’s “Scary Movie.” And if any of you get caught in the crossfire of this Great Yacht Rock War, well, that’s the price you pay. I’m willing to accept a little collateral damage.

Soundtrack: Player
Catering: My refrigerator
Leisurely enjoyment of several delicious beers: That’s right, all me.

Soundtrack: Steely Dan.
Catering: Me; mushroom quesadilla.
Finger: Straight to Ryan.

Dear Diary,

I ate De Leon again today. I hate myself a little bit more each time, but I just can’t stop. And it’s so much harder because I can’t be honest about this problem with my friends — it’s almost like they don’t want to know each time I come back to work with a plate of perfect tacos, loaded with fresh, homemade salsa. I’m glad I can be honest with you, though, Diary.

I’m not sure how I’m going to beat this addiction, but I know I’m going to have to do it alone. I guess my friends don’t need things like “flavor” in their lives, so they don’t really understand what I’m going through. But even now, just thinking about those amazing spices and that savory shredded beef, I find myself wiping the juice from my wrists … and it’s not even there!

So I just sit and stare at an empty plate. Chip crumbs, bits of fresh tortilla, and red sauce that’s getting watered down by my tears. Are they tears of joy, or tears of shame? I don’t know, Diary, I just don’t know.