Watching Bourdain slide wet pho noodles through his lips was one of the sexiest things I've ever seen, and I say that with the utmost security in my sexuality.
Hearing him call pho his death row meal has validated my previously sad existence, and I am eternally grateful. Hyperbole, pehaps. But I can't help but feel compelled to baptize my unborn children in a 12 hour broth muddled with beef essence and a potpourri of spices scientifically engineered to elicit oral orgasms.
Thank you, Mr. Bourdain.
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