Dear friends, I have a confession to make. I've developed a crush.

No, this is not some infatuation. This is not the simple admiration of a woman of taste for a good looking man.

No, my dear friends, this is a stupid, teenage, old fashioned, schoolgirl crush.

Like OMG!!!! He's sooooooooooo CUTE!!!!!!!!!!! Look at his hair! Isn't it just so TOTALLY AWESOME!?!?!?! And his eyes... He's dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeamie!

(If I could dot the "i"s with little red hearts, don't think for a second that I wouldn't!)

Yeah. I've gone all age 13...

This should come as no shock since my crush is on Richard Hammond who is about as tall as the boys I had crushes on when I was age 13.

For those of you who aren't into cars or don't watch BBC's "Top Gear", you probably have no idea who Richard Hammond is. Richard Hammond is one of three presenters on the programme who test drive swanky supercars that none of us can afford (or at least, can't afford the speeding tickets) and make amusing quips about them. Hardly a strict "car ratings" show, much of each episode it taken up with stunts called "challenges" in which the presenters are asked to perform vaguely automotive feats -- like making a limousine out of an ordinary car or making a car of their choosing into a functional boat. The joke comes when the Top Gear management challenges them to demonstrate how their car choices function. In one episode, they were supposed to sail their car-boats to France. In another, they had to drive across an African desert in regular (not Land Rover) cars. In yet another, they were enjoined to buy a car in America for less than it would cost to rent one and drive 1000 miles in the South.

And then they go and test drive things like this and make me covet:


*sputter* *drool* *covet some more*

(If you want to read more on the R8, go here. But I warn you! The next one off the production line is MINE!)

But back to the point: If you're a lover of cars and of silly antics perpetrated by goofy Englishmen, "Top Gear" is the show for you.

But then, there's Hammond ("Hamster" to his rivals). He stands about five foot four, highlights his hair, and has obviously undergone some serious dental work. But damn, do I sit in front of the TV every Monday night at 8pm and stare like a stricken schoolgirl. That overstyled hair! Those self-conscious fashion choices! Just the kind of thing that would get your ass kicked in the schoolyard.

And boy, do I like boys who get their asses kicked in schoolyards!

So while I recover from my illness, I lie here on the couch and watch back episodes of "Top Gear" and stare at Hammond. I cheer when he beats the rest of the team (in various motorized vehicles) across London on his bicycle. I worry when the team has painted "NASCAR SUCKS" on his pickup and sent him through rural Mississippi. I sneer at Jeremy Clarkson for razzing him and mocking his impossibly white teeth.

...Or it could be the fever talking.