...Hallelujah for that.
Sure, I enjoy watching a rocket launch just as much as the next person...but not nearly as much as I love reading those top-secret-astronaut love-triangle emails.
THANK YOU NASA for releasing them to the public.
I've spent more time on their website than I ever have before, just trying to track down every detail on Commander William A. Oefelein. Because of him, I'm a serious astronaut groupie now, no less enthusiastic than I was about Bon Jovi, circa 1990. I'm thinking of starting a scrapbook.
Bill is my imaginary boyfriend and I love picturing how I'd show him off to all my friends. First, I'd dress him up in T-shirts that say, "Yes, I am a rocket scientist," and then for special occasions I'd have him wear his astronaut uniform. I'd remind the girls that Bill was awarded a medal for strike fighting (I have no idea what that is, but it's incredibly hot-sounding).
And to answer your next (obvious) question, No...I have no plans (yet) to put on a diaper and make a trek to the beach to pepper spray his astronaut girlfriend Colleen Shipman. I can wait my turn.
Back to Bill - these emails show he is a hopeless romantic, and if you didn't get a chance to read them yourself, here's the Cliff Note version: Bill invites Colleen on a trip to Alaska with his shuttle crew and asks Colleen what size artic gear she needs (NOTE: yet another reminder of how lame my past boyfriends were, who would ask such things as "Hey, can you buy me a Biketoberfest T-shirt? I'll pay ya back when we get home!")
Before Colleen can answer Bill about her preferences for sizing in artic gear, he follows-up with, "I think I can figure that out. Sized sexy and athletic.”
Is that not the most tacky fabulous sexy thing you've ever heard?