My Weekend Crush

I cannot wait for the new season of Top Chef to begin next month. First, it has three gay lady contestants, which has to be some sort of reality show record (well, except for the Real World/Road Rules/Tila Tequila hot tub lesbians from MTV). And second, it has Padma Lakshmi. Mmm, Padma, mmm. With all due respect to Nigella Lawson -- whom I love and can lick pudding off her finger like nobody’s business -- Padma is my favorite cooking goddess. And to be honest, she’s more like a cooking dominatrix. With her ever-steady gaze, a Zen-like serenity and those cheekbones, dear God, those cheekbones, she is beyond hot. In fact, she is so hot she has reduced me to a series of juvenile schoolyard platitudes. Padma Lakshmi is so hot, she makes the sun look like a snowball. Padma Lakshmi is so hot, she makes global warming seem like a cool spring breeze. Padma Lakshmi is so hot, she makes the devil go, “Dude, stop hogging all the heat.” To summarize, Padma Lakshmi is hot.

Now that she is divorced from Salman Rushdie and the scales of hotness have been restored to order, it seems she has grown even more ridiculously gorgeous. But lest you think this is purely physical, this thing between Padma and me, let me prove to you that we were clearly meant to be together. 1) Padma doesn’t cover up the seven-inch scar she has on her right arm, the result of car crash when she was a teenager. I doesn’t cover up the seven centimeter scar on my right knee, the result of being clumsy as a full-grown adult. 2) She says women who say they don’t fantasize about other women are lying. I never lie about fantasizing about other women. 3) She likes to swear. I fucking love a women who swears. 3) Her favorite food is bacon. Need I say more? Padma, call me. Happy weekend, all.