What is it with me being obsessed with Hosts of Nature and Cooking Shows?!

New Obsession?

Josh Bernstein from "Digging For the Truth." He's cute, has nice hair, and a-mazing teeth. And - he's a Jew. A Jew that studied in Yerushaliem (shel zahav). Too bad his clothes... suck.

But so do Jeff Corwin's, and I still love him.

WHY, OH WHY am I not dating a man who is an archaeologist or a biologist?! Why are there so few attractive ones out there? In fact, why is it that probably the only two attractive ones out there are on TV?!

Come to think of it...it would suck to date one. They'd always be dirty, and snake bitten... and bringing home skulls and not being afraid to touch bones like my dad...

God knows I love my father, but watching him bleed field mice we had caught for disease tracking research, when I was 10, was a slightly scarring experience for me... As was the time he gutted the trout in front of me... and the time I saw his friend Roland sex a swan... (that's when you determine the sex of a bird - get your mind out of the gutter.)

I guess that's it. I love yet another television show host... It just reaffirms that I have to move out of Miami. No cute outdoorsy types here... (By outdoorsy I mean Granola, Hiking, not ripped Volleyball players, but I still wouldn't complain if I dated a guy with some definition to his stomach, and nice soccer-player legs...)

That's why I'm giving some consideration to taking the Washington State Bar. Is that so wrong? I liked Seattle. I like the rain and cool weather. I like pine forests, and I swear I'd actually go hiking in Cascades National Park if I lived in the Seattle area... Oh, sure I wouldn't have any friends, and no one would EVER visit be because I'd be on the ass other end of the country... but Seattle was a really great place... and only a hop, skip and a jump away from Vancouver (another place I could live...and smoke a LOT of pot. Semi-legally.)

And I'm sure if I moved to Seattle, I could find a nice, woodsy, outdoorsy, brainy, handsome Jew to live with (who had straight or wavy hair, not curly) with Israeli features, but wasn't like Crazy Israeli, and grew up in Connecticut, and we'd camp on the beach sometimes, and sail around in our Catamaran, or if the weather was cooler, motor around the San Juan de Fuca islands on our 1939 vintage 40-foot wooden Pilot Yacht, with three guest cabins below and polished brass accents, and we'd wear turtlenecks and Courderoy jackets and drink red wine, and grow salt-and-pepper facial scruff, and have a German Shepard named Sport, and walk him wearing a pea coat or a toggle-coat and a cashmere scarf, and decorate the inside of our large but cozy Edwardian Tudor Revival house with Pacific Northwestern wood carvings and earthyIndian carpets, and Arts-and-Crafts style furniture, and have some Art Nouveaux stained glass installed that was rescued from another house that replaced the stained glass with more energy-efficient triple-panel windows, and when the weather was cold, and I'd get some of those pictures of my family from the '20s framed properly, and hung throughout the house, and we'd have fires blazing in multiple fireplaces, and the smoke would go rolling out of the chimneys and over our damp green lawns, (or maybe we'd buy an old Sail factory downtown, and gut the interior, and put in cement floors, and distressed copper lighting fixtures, and have bare-brick walls, and a frosted glass winding-staircase, and a Japanese roof garden, and a Viking stove (or an Aga stove) and a Sub-Zero refrigerator, and green (or orange) Le Creuset pots, and a brushed-stainless steel Kitchen Aid mixer, and disressed Copper countertops that would take on even more character with every squirt of lemon juice, and every spatter of egg that remained on it for just a fraction of a second too long, and furniture from West Elm and each of us would have a huuuge closet that would be arranged by color and season...) and on Spring and Autumn (and Summer) days we'd go motoring around in our burgundy 1959 Mercedes convertible roadster with a creme-colored canvas roof (down), with shiny chrome hubcaps, and go Skiing in Wyoming in the winters, and pick Washington apples in the Autumn, and eventually we'd have some kids, and put them in a snooty private school, and Ina Garten would come out and bring T.R. Pescod with her, and we'd all just have a grand old time, drinking Veuve Clicquot, and eating goat cheese tartlets, smelling boxwood and old fire smoke and making glib conversation as hummingbirds zipped through the Trumpet flowers and the dog chased chipmunks, and the sun set over the Puget Sound, and humpback whales breached in the water...and I'd actually have time to get a haircut and lose 15 pounds...because I'd have a gym in my house...

And sometimes, when we just couldn't stand the dreary weather anymore, we'd jet off to St. Maarten, or, if we were feeling lazy and provincial, Cabo San Lucas or maybe even Belize...

So - now do you see why I want to move to Seattle?