Okay, some news on the crush front: I think I've found him. This was much harder than I expected, by the way. I looked everywhere:

Fairway, but I was more into the produce than anyone in the store.

Bars in Chelsea, Hells Kitchen and Stamford, but everyone seemed like a slut, and I have higher standards for my crush.

The hospital, a low point, but I worried about getting an infection. Especially from the doctors, who seemed sluttier than even the men at the bars. Who knew Grey's Anatomy would be so true to life?

But it finally happened in, above all else, a chain restaurant, P.F. Chang's, where a mixed breed of Italian, Guyanese and hotness captured my heart while slinging Mongolian Beef. He told me I wasn't like other customers, and that he was liked my energy. And maybe this dude just wanted a bigger tip, but I blushed like a school girl on the first day of gym class, and just went with it. My favorite part was when he asked for ID after I'd ordered a glass of wine.

"Wow, you look so young!" he exclaimed for major bonus points.After serving me lunch, Mr. Waiter decided I should have his number, which I happily accepted and shoved in the pocket of my jeans that no longer fit very well after I ate all of that Mongolian Beef. And maybe I'll call or text him, and maybe I won't. But I've found a crush, who's also getting me to expand my food horizons, so what more do you want from me?

It's a good day.

Two days ago, I gave myself the mission of finding a new crush within a week. So far, no luck. Probably because I haven't left the house. And I thought about cyber-crushing, but that's no fun, unless you're a creepy Internet stalker and, really, what's the point of getting all excited and looking good for Ryan Gosling when you know it's a one-way window. The point of the crush, after all, is to fill your belly with butterflies in the hope that he, she, or shim will notice you. And the world wide web, while wide with options, just doesn't offer the same excitement. So, today, I will try and leave the house, and I will look for my crush at Target, the train station, and all over the city until I find he, she or shim. Let the race begin, then get stalled, then begin again.

I miss don't miss high school. The torture, the teasing and, fuck, the math.
But I do miss the notion of the teenage crush; the reason to, you know, buy a new shirt or smell nice. Romance gets a little rushed in our adult life, don't you think? If we see someone we like at a bar, online, at work, we typically drop the crush-fantasy and go for it. Then what happens? Well, either you fall in love and rush toward the relationship, where you don't have to buy new shirts or even smell nice, or have a semi-decent date with wine, Italian food and sex, and then never call one another. Either way, it can be a little disappointing.

So, this week I'm giving myself the project of finding someone to crush on.
I think it'll be fun, and inspire melodramatic poetry and tons of journal entries. And who knows? Maybe the crush will lead to more. But who really cares? As long as I smell nice, I'll be doing everyone a favor in the process.

I was starving, and wanted a sandwich. That's how it all started. My mother and I were on our way into a Yonkers deli when a reporter burst on to the scene and shoved a camera in our faces. "Oh shit," was our gut reaction as this woman demanded to know what we thought about the morning's heavy rains. Somehow or another we pulled words together, and then appeared every half and hour on our local news. We were spotted by friends and family, and it was a bonding experience like never before. And, most importantly, I got my damn sandwich. Here's the video, ghetto taped from the TV to my phone: