Epic. Flail.
So, life has been fairly boring as of recently. Everything is going well, but that doesn't exactly make for thrilling blogging. The Horse has recovered from his mystery respiratory illness and is back in work. He's currently living up to his fetlocks in a charming mix of mud and water. Thus is winter. Oh, and he needs his mane pulled. I'm rocking through semester 2 of year 2 of my Biochem/Genetics degree, and aside from a few moments of gentle homicidal rage directed at my biochem lab reports, it all seems to be going swimmingly.
TV wise, which apparently, is the most exciting part of my life at the moment, I've watched five seasons worth of JAG in the past three weeks. It's not healthy. Harm is adorable, Mac is awesome, and I truly and utterly need to get a life. Aside from that, the series final of Sea Patrol was probably the first episode which actually....didn't make me laugh because it was crap. Mike and Kate are adorable, and I want to squish them. I still have no idea where that ship came from. Rescue Special Ops continues its merry way in being quite possibly the crappest, most addictive thing I watch on a regular basis. True Blood is like a slightly ADHD porno. Seriously, someone join with me in counting how many storylines are in a single episode of that, because I always lose one or two, and then someone ends up naked. Sherlock is quite possibly my new, unhealthy obsession, especially because it only had three episodes, and I now like something written by Mark Gatiss, which terrifies me on a very deep level.
Now, I am going to bed to watch City Homicide. Yes. My life is that sad. Plus City Homicide is funny because it's a) incredibly sexist and b) all the detectives wear hilarious, varying shades of pastel. They're also probably the least 'detective looking' bunch of cops I've seen.