(Editor's note: One of the many hats I have to wear around the website is that of an investigative journalist. I must say that when John Savinsky said he had dated the young and beautiful co-host of America's Funniest Home Videos, Daisy Fuentes, it left a few questions unanswered in my mind: how does a firemen from Detroit closing in on the senior citizen discount at Denny's attract someone like Daisy Fuentes and is there really such a thing as the "kevorka," that unexplainable animal magnetism made famous by the the Jerry Seinfeld character Kramer when he was in love with the Eastern Orthodox nun? So here it is, the true story.

I must tell you the real story about Daisy. It all started in Daytona Beach, FL. During "Bike Week" the weather in Daytona was a little cool--it was the first week in March--so I decided to ride "to where the weather suits my clothes" as the song goes. So we headed due south to Miami. As it turned out, quite a few bikers did the same thing. South Beach always has something going on all the time. We parked our bikes and started to walk around, and then I saw her, with about ten or fifteen people standing around her talking and asking her questions. So I was standing there with my tongue hanging out listening to her talk. In between questions she turned to her companion and said "I'm hungry." For the life of me I don't know why, but I looked her right in the eye and said "Yo quiero Taco Bell." She immediately smiled and answered "Si." I held out my hand and away we went on my Harley about a block or two right to the drive-in window. I'll never forget it. She ordered a bean burrito and a diet cola. We rode back, she shook my hand and kissed me on the cheek, and said "Thank you very much." I then said "Does this mean we had a date?" She smiled and said "Absolutely!" Well, that's how it really happened. She is really a beautiful woman. So did I lie? (Nah, John, we don't think you lied. By the way, how is your wife, Morgan Fairchild?)

Since the beautiful and talented Daisy Fuentes has been emailing a friend of ours--I won't tell you his name, but his initials are"Tom Sullivan"-- and since being a phony is a major offence in the place where I was raised, Patton Park, I am compelled to tell the real reason I think she two-timed me for Mr. Sullivan. It seems intelligence and wealth have overcome the smell of Harley exhaust and sexuality. Anyway, as the story goes...There I was speaking foreign languages to this Cuban-born beauty (Daisy) in tropical lands visited by true romantics of this age. As we rode to our destination (Taco Bell), if you remember she ordered a bean burrito and a diet coke. On the way back she commented "Wow! your exhaust pipes are really loud on your bike John!" and so I replied, as I turned my head and softly whispered in her ear, "Daisy, those aren't my exhaust pipes that are so loud. You see, I eat bean burritos too! At that we arrived back to the crowds, and you know the rest of the story. I was hesitant to tell this part of the story because somehow it takes away from the romantic side of Daisy. So now you know the rest of story, sort of! I guess I should have never gotten involved with Ms. Fuentes. I guess this is why she's E-mailing Mr. Sullivan now. Sorry to bore you with all the details, but I just had to get this off my chest.

A "Dear John" letter to the Prez of Hell's Angels: Alas. It's over, John. Snow (Fuentes) White woke up, took one look at me, and asked for another bite of the apple. Her perfume and my aftershave clashed - made sulfur dioxide. The final words were painful. I accused her of running up her Taco Bell credit card; she said I was so schizophrenic that when I go to a restaurant alone I order separate checks. The truth is there's an 837 degree difference in our body temperatures. She can't wear the ring I gave her because the melting point of tin is exceeded. Mosquitoes get frost bite when they tap into my blood - with an ice pick. John, it would take a fire marshall to keep this 5-alarmer under control. Maybe a little call from you, a couple of "v-room-v-rooms" on your Harley out front, might kick-start the old romance between you two, you know? I mean, Mother of Pearl, do you realize how many bean burritos this woman eats? I'm just a writer, I can't afford this any more. And the scratching at the door - dusk till dawn - mangy Chihuahuas with soulful eyes and Mexican accents. I thought it was Dennis at first, you know. But Dennis doesn't scratch, he pounds and makes a noise like a chicken eyeballing Colonel Sanders. And by the way, that "Yo quiero Taco Bell" stuff doesn't mean what you think. It's Spanish pig-Latino for "Johnny get angry, Johnny get mad…" She's waiting for you, kid. She's in a sweat for an act of unbridled passion and manly aggression. Hell, feel free to ride through my living room on your chrome hawg - I can have the carpets dyed to match the tread marks afterward - sweep her off her feet and ride off into the sunset. If you can't stoke (sorry Ed, hyper-stoke) your romantic boilers above 32 degrees F., then sit her on the muffler and tell her it's your thigh. You can take her on adventures hunting down the Patton roster. Once she realizes you make Ace Ventura look like Nancy Drew, she'll be all starry-eyed (between bean burritos). You can do it, lad. I'll pay for the gas (Harley not Taco Bell). You foot the Taco bill - er, Bell. Today is cold, but it'll be hot tamale. --Sully