Apparently the way to my heart is through the kitchen

Okay, so that last post was kind of bratty and annoying. Sorry. I just took a (cold) shower and think I have washed away much of the negativity. What didn't wash away has been melt away in this heat by now, so all that's left is some observations about my dating habits which I will now share.

New reader Joe recently demonstrated an uncanny psychic ability when he somehow (correctly) intuited that the man of my dreams was none other than the fictional Jack Tripper. Before I was old enough to even understand the premise of the show, I was drawn to Three's Company and it's cast of crazy characters. A brunette, I understood that I most resembled sensible Janet, but I longed to be the bubbling blond Chrissy and even more so, the sexy Terri, who were obviously the objects of Jack's affection. As for Jack himself, I thought his goofy grins and physical comedy resembled my dad's, so you can take that to your therapist and have a field day.

Ten days after I turned 8 years old I played Three's Company at the town lake with my second-grade crush and my blond-haired best girl friend. How do three 8 year olds "play" a television show whose plots revolved around sexual innuendo? I don't know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The show was always one of my favorite reruns growing up, and I had a (bizaare?) special thing for John Ritter. Then, after college, I lived with a guy and another blond girl, and I finally got to live the Janet role I felt destined to play.

I guess the man of my dreams isn't so much Jack as the wacky character and wild lifestyle he embodied (he could never even make the rent, for gosh sakes), but when I moved to California last year I half-expected to meet a real life version. I named my blog after the Regal Beagle for a while, still sport the Janet picture on the sidebar, but I guess that's more of a reflection of my pop-culture passion than a desire to meet a cooking student. (Although wouldn't that be appropriate given my culinary incompetance...)

Because I'm pretty sure that the real man of my dreams is none other than Carson Daly. Not THIS skinny, scary Carson Daly, but the slightly-more-beefed-up-frat-boy-version of Carson Daly who ruled MTV in the late 1990's and early 2000's. Not that I watched TRL, or even knew he was, really, other than that he was engaged to Tara Reid. But then I dated a guy who looked exactly like Carson Daly. And then I dated another one who looked not exactly like him, but a lot like him. And then I realized that one of my first and longest boyfriends ever looked a lot like him too.

So then I started to see Carson around the streets of New York. I even met him (and danced with him!) when I came to LA two summers ago. As with Three's Company, it just seemed fated. My most recent boyfriend didn't look Carson, per se, but fit the same mold (5'10, dark hair, square angular face) of all the others.

My mom knows about my Carson crush and called me the other night to tell me that she knows the perfect guy for me. Only, the thing is, see, she doesn't really know him. He has a show on the Food Network and he is just so adorable and nice and, oh, he happens to be Jewish, too. My mom also knows that I don't typically go for the nice Jewish boys, but since he has the Carson Daly thing going on, maybe I want to check out his show on The Food Network's website, and maybe just send him an email.

And so, of course, I'm all like, Mom, you're crazy! And the second we got off the phone I went and looked up Dave Lieberman on Food Network's website. And while he doesn't look exactly like Carson Daly, he does look EXACTLY like that last guy I dated. So much so that I shrieked out loud and clicked off the site before calling my mom back and commending her on her impeccable taste.

Reading this over, it just hit me that - both professional cooks - Dave Lieberman may quite possibly BE Jack Tripper. Only instead of a bistro, he has a reality show. Maybe I have found my chef after all.

So how can I get him to come and knock on my door?