I know it’s been a hard year for you, since you came in second in last season on “MasterChef.” Look, the truth was, no matter how perfect your dark chocolate soufflé was (and it was pretty damn perfect … Graham Elliot looked like he was mouth-fucking it), you never stood a chance of beating Christine Ha. A blind chef who cooks like an angel? Come on. Book deal gold. And you, just a 7′ 2″ college basketball player with a passion for food. It’s a good story, but not good enough, even though your final meal was better than Christine’s.
Josh, I know it’s been hard for you to accept your loss. I thought you were going through a hard time. I’ve noticed that you’ve been sullen and withdrawn, more erratic than ever. But clearly, I didn’t realize how bad things were. It was wrong of me not to force you to get help before it was too late.
I was beyond disturbed to hear about your arrest this week. What were you doing on the University of Chicago campus with a gun? A GUN, JOSH! Why were there cuts on your face? Why were you using the emergency phone? None of it makes sense to me. When a cop approached you and asked you what was wrong you lunged at him, punched him and reached for your gun. When questioned about your motives you said Gordon Ramsay was an “asshole” who possessed your body and transformed you into God. JOSH, WTF? They said you weren’t on drugs or anything. It took five cops to subdue you with batons. They arrested you and checked you into a psych ward where you remained chained to a bed. WHAT’S GOING ON!?
I know you are angry at Gordon Ramsay for being a “phony sack of shit who sold you out for the blind bitch” (your words not mine), but I think you’re having a psychotic break. I want my old Josh back. The composed, level-headed dude who made me perfectly poached eggs for breakfast. Where have you gone? Your eyes look so vacant in your mug shot. Until you come back to me, until you find your way out of your Gordon Ramsay delusion and that straight jacket that you’re in, we’re over.
Your reluctant ex,
P.S. While you’re insane, do you mind if I ask Frank Mirando out? I’ve always loved his chicken roulade.
[Photo: Splash News]