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This is where the biggest fight of my lifetime so far will be held, this Saturday. But you can stand here, right outside the entrance, for free, and stare slack-jawed across the rope line and into this chasm of history. Several small clusters of fans were doing just that. Some of them were holding fresh new boxing gloves and Sharpies, as if Floyd Mayweather himself might leap off the Tecate ad on the wall and start signing autographs if only everyone closed their eyes and wished upon a star.

On one side of the arena entrance is the official media room. That is a place for neither me nor the gaping autograph seekers. On the other side of the arena entrance is a Jeff Mitchum Photo Gallery. There you can purchase a big, garish photo of a flower or a fucking moose for more than the price of a ticket to the big fight.

That is not for us, either. An endless series of blinking caverns, connected by moving sidewalks, a slow-motion monument to human tranquilization. Through every wormhole, a new buffet. Anywhere will do. It was just like the program is now minus the vacation, which D. Sure, we never heard much from Heather B's rap career or Andre's band Reigndance after the show, but these people seemed less like characters or types and more like actual people. There were ambitious twentysomethings already involved in finding their way in their chosen field.

They also had some sort of life in the city where it was being filmed, so outside friends and interests filtered onto the show, much in the same way that sharing a house with a bunch of roommates really does. Over time, the characters calcified into "types"—the angry black man, the gay one, the slut, the conservative, the sheltered zealot—and people were cast less as individuals, but as stock characters who would create conflict. The serious sociological aspect of the show quickly started to diminish after the San Francisco season, perhaps the shows most poignant and famous thanks to the death of AIDS activist Pedro Zamora and the ouster of his nemesis Puck, who was so nasty the roommates kicked him out of the house.

Remember on that season that Pam was in med school while it was being filmed? That was some serious stuff. Now we're lucky if one of the kids works one day a week at something other than exhibitionism and self-promotion.

In later seasons, the show started giving the cast projects, like starting a business or working a job, to give the show some cohesion, but even those shortly fell by the wayside. What do we get now? The people on the show don't seem to be actually doing anything outside of the house.

They have silly internships that don't involve much work and seem more like pre-arranged camera dates than documented work experience. Okay, I'm catching up on re-runs. I'm not keen on names yet: Truth or dare is a tricky game that I avoid. Both Michael and name were dumb to kiss each other when she knew that the guy she really liked, and who liked her, was in the next room asleep. And Michael was dumb in going along with peer pressure and doing it.

He can't blame anyone but himself. Then the Black guy goes the dramatic route and tells Dustin as soon as he wakes up. Dustin has every reason to be mad that the woman he likes kissed his friend. It was disrespectful despite how name says she just saw it as a game. Truth or dare doesn't HAVE to be a momentary lapse in judgment. It isn't really a joke when you're kissing people and carrying on. I guess that's why I never liked truth or dare.

Besides, Dustin is much hotter than Michael. Always choose the hotter guy. BTW, the Black guy has tight abs. Last edited by DrPhil; at PM. Originally Posted by ASTalumna Can some one please explain to me why name likes Adam?

We need to get these names together. I only typed Dustin and Michael because a commercial said their names as I was typing. Find all posts by FHwku. All times are GMT Padma Lakshmi seems to have gotten even slower than last season. Now she talks like a skinny overly animated muppet in amber. Magic, over! A parliament of showgirls entered the kitchen and awkwardly gyrated in formation. A new and confusing pay-to-fillet scheme was introduced wherein contestants are paid per Quickfire challenge but they can gamble that away in some sort of bid to trepan directly into our brains that Las Vegas is fun!

I have the feeling that hosting Top Chef is the result of a process not dissimilar to hosting the Olympic Games. Anonymity guaranteed. Then Robin Leventhal revealed she had cancer twice. Thus began a high-stakes game of out-victim.

It's like canasta but with adversity! Ash Fulk revealed he was gay.