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You know how a scent can recall strong memories?

Like, for you, it could be Spring Rain, or Wife's Shampoo, or Fresh Baked Oatmeal Cookies. For me, it's Baby Diarrhea After Strained Peas.

What I'm trying to say here is: the first floor ladies restroom smells funky today.

me: i seriously cannot wait to go home. we have more BSG today and i'm gonna exploded
     explod
     explo
     blow up
bitca: hahahahahaha!

Yeah, so, the mister and I are still winging our way through Battlestar Galactica on DVD, and last night we hit a snag. We were on the last disc of the Season 2.0 box set. (For some reason [more money] the producers or whomever decided to split Season 2 into two box sets [to get more money] so you have to get Season 2 in two parts [bastards.])

I was upset to discover that Season 2, Disc 3 only contains two episodes, and spent the better part of a minute cussing out the DVD player. (After which my diagnosis of "retardedly angry" was reconfirmed.) Then we watched both episodes, the last of which ends on a MAJOR CLIFFHANGER. And we weren't going to be getting a new disc from Netflix for OMG TWO DAYS.

Okay, the point of the story is this, so I'll just get to it: I'm a geek who had to get her Battlestar Galactica fix and went out at two in the morning to Meijer just to buy the next box set in the season because I HAD TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WITH THAT SUPERBITCH ADMIRAL CAIN and Oh My God, can't you just see how this science fiction stuff is like crack to me?

I've had sex twice in the past week and that's like some sort of record.

Personally I think it's because we've moved the giant screen tv and the Playstation up to the bedroom, and seeing me blow shit up and run people over and shoot things at 4AM somehow turns him on.