Yesterday at work, someone attached the newspaper clipping below to the refrigerator door:
Yes, the gentleman in the center of the picture is my famous cousin, Grant, who has won some kind of James Beard Award. Again. One of my friends at work said to me, "The James Beard Award. Isn't that like the Nobel Prize for chefs?"
I will not, in this post, drag my famous cousin through the mud. He is famous for a reason. He's a genius chef. He's a millionaire. He was named one of People magazine's sexiest men alive. He got mouth cancer. He almost lost his tongue. He didn't lose his tongue. He survived mouth cancer. He wrote a memoir about surviving mouth cancer. He just opened up another restaurant, and it's even more successful than his first restaurant. And now he's just received another accolade from the James Beard Foundation. I salute my famous cousin.
Yes, I do have an ugly side to my personality. I'm a little prone to jealousy. I tend to make fun of people whom I really envy. I make disparaging remarks about their successes or looks or personalities. I do everything I can to shift the spotlight to myself, including being mean, cruel, vindictive, and, above all, funny. I mean, yeah, Grant has a great story. The whole mouth cancer thing is worthy of an Oscar-winning film starring Meryl Streep as my cousin. (Hey, she's already played Julia Child, for God's sake.) But, c'mon. Another James Beard Award?!
I'm done. I promise. I will not say another word about Grant Achatz. In this blog. Today. I'm not jealous. I think he deserves all the success he has achieved. I admire his good looks. They run in the family. I, myself, will one day receive the "Sexiest Blogger Alive" award from the crew at Blogger.
Grant Achatz has nothing on Saint Marty. Except millions of dollars. And international fame. And bestselling cookbooks. And five-star restaurants. Aside from that, they're pretty much the same.
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