Stop following me through the supermarket. Get off of the magazines in the check out. Get out of my TV.
And stay off of my cracker boxes.
Yes, I’m talking to you, Rachel Ray.
She used to be perky and cute, and I wanted her in my life.
Now she’s annoying and ubiquitous, and I want her out of my life.
She ain’t even that good a cook.
One of my many worst nightmares was realized when I saw bottles of Olive Oil on the shelf labeled “EVOO” and had her dolphin-toothed smiling face on it.
That’s fine, I’ll take your Rachael leftovers (delish!) 
My younger brother left me aghast by saying (after I confessed my long-running, thusfar platonic infatuation with Nigella Lawson) that he found Rachel Ray sexier.
We’re not related by blood, he and I—and never before had I been so acutely aware of that fact, nor so relieved by it.
I suspect that when the Crab People failed to enslave us all using the Queer Eye Deception, they selected their best to go out on a solo mission (The EVOO Exchange) in their new Rachel Ray disguise.
Yes
Smiling faces sometimes
pretend to be your friend
Smiling faces show no traces
Of the EVOO that lurks within
can you dig it?
I like Rachel Ray. Almost everything I’ve read about her says she’s just a very nice, down to earth person. For example: During Fashion Week in New York last week they did a “show” to raise money for women’s heart disease issues, in which they enlisted all these famous and semi-famous women to walk the catwalk in red dresses. And apparently many of them were enormous pains in the asses, walking around acting like Big Stars and insisting on perfect styling, etc. Whereas RR came, threw on the dress they gave her, did her walk down the runway – clearly nervous – and then, as she stepped down, was overheard to mutter “Thank God that’s over!” IOW, probably how I would react in a similar situation.
She’s cute, but not gorgeous, she cooks accessible “hey-I-could-make-that” if not incredible food, and she seems like a person it would be fun to hang out with. Sure, she steps over the line into cutesy-ville sometimes, but that doesn’t bug me the way it seems to bug some of the Rachel-haters. That said, I don’t buy her mag, I don’t eat her crackers, and I only occasionally watch her show.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:
I could never be married to Rachel Ray, but I could handle her for thirty minutes. 
Would that be a thirty minute meal?
And would it be under 40 dollars?
Rachael Ray feeds on your growing paranoia and finds it “delish.”
Only if the 40 dollars were affixed to her belt.
I don’t know if this is appropriate or germane, but I haven’t the slightest idea who this utterly famous person is. Except that she cooks.
I’m pretty sure she’d be a lot of fun in the sack though.
RR dipped in EVOO, mmm… Delish!
She’s so perky out of the sack that I’m betting she’s a corpse who doesn’t “do those kinds of things” in bed.
I have no idea why things work that way, but they usually seem to.
I suddenly have a thirst for a slippery nipple.
Easiest thing in the world. Memorize the following, and use as appropriate:
“Of course you’re right, dear, nice girls don’t do that sort of thing. And besides, if your Mom ever found out that you had, she would be totally shocked and horrified…”