By Wyatt Earp | May 4, 2010
So, let me tell you about Sunday. It was brutally hot outside, so we turned on the newly-installed central air. (We landed it during last summer’s construction.) It worked like a dream and we were sitting pretty. Then it happened. I was downstairs writing posts when Kyle came up and said, “Dad, Mom needs you. There’s a leak in your bedroom.” I figured he was kidding, since it wasn’t raining, but I went upstairs anyway.
I walked into the room to see the missus rushing around with towels. I also noticed the waterfall coming through the ceiling. The missus said, “Get some buckets!” Lovely. Apparently, the central air unit sprung a leak and our new bedroom was feeling the brunt of it. We called the contractor and he sent the air conditioning guy on Monday morning. The diagnosis? A split in the pan. Apparently it was a factory defect, but that is little comfort with the inside rain. After apologizing up and down, the guy ordered a new pan, and it “should” be here this morning.
Christina Hendricks, SYLG’s favorite babe, recently dispensed some advice to the men out there. I’m not a real man, but if I were, I would be paying attention to this. Christina told the following to that bastion of manliness Ryan Seacrest. Apparently, he is the voice for all men now.
Here are a few of Christina’s bullet points:
We love your body. If we’re in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything.
I sincerely doubt that.
Speaking of your body, you don’t understand the power of your own smell. Any woman who is currently with a man is with him partly because she loves the way he smells.
I sincerely doubt that, too. On a good day, I smell like cheese and shame.
We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive — your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad. Doesn’t matter if it’s a compliment.
Okay, that’s something I didn’t realize, so I better adjust my internal edit. The last point, though, struck me like a punch in the face:
The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we’re attracted to.
Dammit! That’s my only move!