A big announcment

Ladies and gentlemen, I am in love. Seriously! The irresistible combination of brown eyes and brown hair has never been so perfectly presented. Obviously, the newest object of my lust has me completely head-over-heals -- and armed with a [not so] new life mission. He's 6'2" of divine man. And, he's also a New York Ranger. While I never really toyed with the idea of dating a Canadian, I might have to open my romantic prospects to new, international avenues for the next decade to accommodate the Kanuk. Therefore, life goal #327, DATE A NEW YORK RANGER, has been altered to read DATE DAN GIRARDI. Number 5 never looked so good! We first fell in love when we made blissful eye contact: I gazed into his stunning peepers, so magically magnified on the screen atop the ice in Madison Square Garden, as the television-version of his brown beauties hypnotized me. It was a perfect start to the game. I plan to scare his girlfriend away with my signature Long Island Death Stare, and swoop in for the steal, dressed to kill in killer heals, and armed with an arsenal of hockey trivia that would make even Wayne Gretzky proud. It's a sure fire plan.

Let's back track for a minute, though. I never, ever write about sports, so I should explain myself a bit. My love of the New York Rangers was instilled at a young age, simultaneously alongside an intense hatred for the New York Islanders. My die-hard, season-ticket holding superfan of a father would have it no other way; to support the Islanders would be to eat the forbidden fruit -- you just don't do it! Therefore, I took a liking to Jeff Beukeboom, the big, bold #23 (who, like my new love, was also a defenseman from Canada), and rooted for the team alongside my dad throughout my childhood. I even named my first goldfish Beuk after the aforementioned enforcer of the Rangers' 1994 Stanley Cup-winning team. (Beuk only lived two weeks; our affair was brief but beautiful.) Anyhow, years went on, and despite the NHL's diva stint a few years back, I remained a blueshirt faithful. So, this year, in giving the Christmas present to top all Christmas presents, I gave Dad and the sis tickets to the day-after-Christmas game. And it wasn't just any game: it was a rivalry-ridden Rangers-Islanders face-off. Clearly, I had to buy myself a ticket, too.

Two minutes into the game, hotshot Sean Avery, notoriously known for being the most hated player in the league, was already beating the guts out of the first Islander who checked him into the boards. Apparently, the crowd at the game was the rowdiest the Garden has seen all season. I like to think it's because we were in town, egging Avery to continue his nasty -- but highly entertaining -- style of play. (Ironically, the fist-punching, trash-talking, screen-setting player also has a keen interest in fashion, so he is another Ranger that I'd consider dating to fulfill Life Goal #327. However, as a blue-eyed beauty with a metrosexual swaggar, he's not so much my type. For now, I'll stick with Mr. Girardi, who would probably buy me shoes and boots and bags and more, rather than suggest the trendiest way to accessorize.)

While the game didn't have a happy ending (the Rangers tied with 46 seconds left in the third period, but were brutally robbed in sudden death, four-on-four overtime), Dad, AR, and I had an awesome time. We screamed, we cheered, we high-fived, and we joined with others who believe that the Rangers can once again shower New York City with tears of joy after winning the Stanley Cup again. And you can bet that I'll be wearing #5 when they do so!

Also, to prove that I haven't gone totally "boy" on you, I have to mention yesterday's dinner! On a whim, the fam and I attempted to get a table at Becco, the famous Chef Lidia's Hell's Kitchen restaurant. Sure enough, we were graced with a seat and chowed down on the spot's specialty Sinfonia di Pasta, which I assume is the reason why most Becco reservations come with a one-month wait: for $23, you get UNLIMITED quantities of THREE DIFFERENT pastas, following complimentary bread, olives, salad, and antipasto. The vino was gooooooooooooooood, too, which made the experience even better.

Tomorrow, I'll write about shoes or something. I need to counterbalance all this hockey chatter!