I forgot to mention yesterday—or was it Wednesday, I forget—that my honey at Chipotle, nor any other employee there, does in fact not wear a name tag on her chest. Went a little earlier, during the lunch hour rush, so if my eyes turned away, in that general direction, it was because I caught her in an embarrassing moment of having folded up my burrito while it was still waiting on a new tray of fajita peppers and onions. But by then they had already been thoroughly exhausted examining a fellow patron a few orders ahead of me in line, an astounding young Asian beauty my memory of whose details, such as the tight-fitting striped blue shirt achingly loosened only in the front by the weight of her purse, is either a testament thereof or, in the more reasonable alternative, of the paucity of my own existence.

I still don't get MySpace.com. Share comments on crappy webpages? But check it out, Asian4U superstar Nancy Ho lives within 5 miles of me.