This weekend we finally started to watch Battlestar Galactica. If you don’t hear from me for a while it is because BSG has sucked me in and won’t let go until I finish the series.

Holy crap.  I should have listened to all of you sooner!

I put this on Twitter this weekend as well, but I think it is worth repeating here (plus here lets me use more than 140 characters):

I had just gotten out of the shower and was putting on clean clothes so that we could go buy BSG at Frys (you try waiting for three days for the next 3 discs to be delivered after starting that series) when…

Will:  You know?  You smell kind of like a bicycle tire.

Me: [FLABBERGASTED AND APPALLED LOOK]

Will: What? What’s wrong with smelling like a bicycle tire? ……What? ……it’s not.. it’s not a bad smell.  It’s just…. what’s wrong with smelling like a bicycle tire?  …..are you mad? It’s probably a very pretty bicycle tire.

Dear Men:

When it’s three in the morning and your fiance wakes you up for a hug because she can’t sleep because you told her (right before falling asleep) that you might be starting your honeymoon a few days late (which means cutting it almost in half) so that you two can spend time with your father (who you have spent more time  with over the last twelve months than every single other person in her family combined in the five years that you have been together) and, after she tells you how she feels she says “I’m sorry I’m such a selfish bitch” and bursts into tears the correct response is not “it’s okay, you’re hormonal and can’t help it.”

In fact, just about anything in the world is a better response than that.

You’re welcome.