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the big crush

I received this email today from a person who shall remain anonymous due to the embarassing nature of the content:
Scott Baio? Please. Everyone knows that the ultimate teenage crush of those years was Ralph Macchio. He had star power. He had white teeth and the cutest smile. And he was so sincere! Ralph Macchio STILL rules!
My, my. Ralph Macchio. Fellow Long Islander, cute as a button, Mr. Wholesome. Dear, I never had a crush on Ralphie. Maybe your heart melted when Dally said Do it for Johnny!, but Johnny wasn't doing it for me. Wax on, wax off my ass. So who did I crush on besides Scott Baio? I thought you'd never ask. Let's take a little trip, shall we? First crush: Robin. As in Batman and Robin. Maybe I had a thing for men in tights because I also like Batman. But not as much as Robin. That was the late 60's. I was still a mere child who thought that Disney movies were real, which would explain the swooning I did over the prince in Sleeping Beauty. Princes, superheroes, a few cartoon characters. Typical grade school dreams. Somewhere around ten my idea of heartthrob changed from clean-cut, world saving, wide-smiled charmers to bad boys in leather jackets. Enter Conrad Birdie, dreamboat. Ok, it wasn't a leather jacket. It was gold lamé . But it was still a thrill to see him shake those hips and make that sneer. My mother said he was a rip-off of Elvis, but Elvis was for old people. Conrad was for me. From there I went through a steady succession of crushes, all of them grown men too old to pay any attention to little old me. Unless, of course, they were that kind of guy. In which case, my mom would never let me date them. But could you imagine if I brought home my poster boy, Joe Namath? He'd give everyone autographs. He'd teach my dad how to play football. He'd be 32 years old to my 12 but I could wear a lot of makeup and fake it! 79038.jpeMoving on. There were the usual suspects. Leif Garrett. John Travolta (only as Vinnie Barbarino, though). Maybe a fleeting moment when Bobby Sherman rocked my boat. Barnabas Colllins. Danny Bonaduce. Steve McQueen. Matt Dillon. Steve Austin. Spiderman. Erik Estrada. Then came the drug days. My brain and libido became heavily influenced by dime bags of Panama Red and sundry other illegal things and I realized that Matt Dillon was not cool (not until Drugstore Cowboy, at least). Jim Morrison was cool. Robert Plant was to die for. I had a thing for Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead. I was way past the point of writing fan letters, but I was certainly not past the point of drunkenly waving my panties in the air at a concert. Wait, I never did that. At least not that I remember. I think. Eventually I straightened out and perpetually stoned rock stars who think they are poets became passe. I wanted a real man. A big, hunky man with broad shoulders, a nice ass and possibly no teeth. That's right, enter the hockey groupie stage. I stalked Billy Carroll of the Islanders. I composed racy romance novels starring me and Rick Vaive of the Maple Leafs. But we all have to grow up sometime. Sooner or later we realize that our crushes are just that; foolish fantasies of famous people falling for us. Dreams. Wishes. We end up settling for the nerd with the braces and oily hair and squeaky voice because his sister's boyfriend's uncle lives next door to Joey Ramone. Four degrees of separation, baby! It's as close as you'll ever get. So you stop getting stars in your eyes over guys too far out of reach for you and the hormone labeled "Teenage Crush" melts away and is replaced by one labeled "Marry a nice guy with a good job." I stop swooning over Henry Rollins. I no longer get a slighty moist feeling in my pants when I see Chris Cornell. And I stopped harboring thoughts of switching teams for Gwen Stefani. I'm a grown up now. I'm married, I'm terribly in love with my husband. So the days of lusting after people I don't know have passed. Right? RIGHT? Wrong. I guess that teenage hormone made a raging comeback, because I have several serious blog crushes that make me swoon and sigh and lose all concentration at work as I drift into a world where it's just me and.... .... I'll just leave you hanging, there. You'll never know.


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Well, there's enough of me to go around.

But do you like us better than Spider Jerusalem?

Oh, my. I forgot all about Spider. Mmm...Spider.


Danny Bonaduce. You're kidding, right?

Please, tell us you're kidding.

Heh. You said "wax off my ass."

I thought I was the only little kid who'd had a crush on Robin.

When I informed my mother that I intended to marry him when I grew up, she had to break down two things for me: One, that he'd have to ask me first, and that was unlikely, seeing as how I was four years old and a noncelebrity; two, that she'd write me out of the will if I ever brought home a man in tights whose name wasn't Baryshnikov.

As for Ralph Macchio--no. Just . . . no.

How can you have a crush on me and not tell me until now?

Gwen Stefani? Ick.

weird. I was thinking sort of similar thoughts last night at band practice. We were listening to some Toadies stuff between songs, and i just squinch up when i hear Todd's voice. There's a certain thing i have for certain vocalists- the vocals are the turn-on. Put a bag over their heads if you must, but just let them sing. I'd give it up to the man if he uttered that breathy little "yeaaaah" that he throws in Possum Kingdom just before he starts singing to give it up to him.

oooh and what he's done with Taz from the Reverend Horton Heat as the Burden Brothers... scuse me -gotta change my pants.

oh yeah, and i'm married. heh. To a fantastic geeky guy, too.

Oh hell yes, Pril.

Specifically, on "Tyler" during the lines She pulls the covers tighter, I press against the door..


Billy Carroll?? You and Faith both!! She adored him!! Too funny! I met him once over at Roosevelt Raceway - he brought the Stanley CUp over to one of the barns - my dad was the accountant for a bunch of the trainers, owners, etc, and had an office there. Imagine my surprise when one of the guys called up and told me to come over! I was on cloud nine for weeks!

Me - I loved Bobby Bourne! sigh Swift as the wind in those days!

I never liked Scott Baio or Leif Garrett though. My tiger beat crushes were mostly restricted to Shaun Cassidy and Andy Gibb. Later I became infatuated with Jim Morrison (so what if he was dead!) and Tommy Shaw from Styx.

Yeah, there is something about a good voice, either singing or speaking that will send me into a little dreamworld..... There are too many singers to name, but give me a deep, growly speaking voice like Vin Deisel any day, Yum!

I just went to see Henry Rollins on Sunday (Spoken Word, not concert). He recently broke up with Cheryl Crow and was asking about you. He was seriously bummed when he heard you got married. In fact he was so upset that he said he's going to woo Ann Coulter now. Poor guy.

He may have been joking about Cheryl and Ann and I suppose it's possible I made that up about him asking about you yet I'm sure that in his heart of hearts he's been secretly yet unknowningly lusting after you. You could see it on his face.