Back in the deep, dark, dank depths of Cheyenne Mountain where the sun don't shine (except occasionally out of Daniel's arse), Sam was starting to wish she hadn't hit the Super Fudge Chunk quite so hard (at least not without taking the precaution of getting a bucket from the nearest storage closet first), when Vala strode into her dismal corner of woe:
"Hey, Sam, been looking for you! We've had a message from the Asgard - Thor's gone AWOL in some distant galaxy and has some wicked 'take-over-the-known-universe' master-plan involving some baby he conceived without cell division through meiosis crap. Apparently he's headed our way to kidnap you and General O'Neill... say, what are you moping for?"
Sam sniffed and wiped shippy tears from her beautiful misery-reddened soft cheeks. "Oh, Vala, he won't be able to buy me any more flowers in pastel shades, he won't be able to feed me any more heart-shaped chocolates with cherry brandy inside, he won't be able to walk me home and give me a chaste goodnight kiss before leaving me on my moonlit doorstep to savour the memory of our wonderful evening in my dreams as I sleep in blissful solitude..."
Vala looked aghast. "What the frak kind of loser are you talking about, Sam?"
"Jack!" Sam wailed.
"Oh geez..."