My wife and I are huge nerds. She’s a philosophy nerd with a real nerd-boner for all of those fruitcakes comin’ outta ancient Greece. (She especially likes Plato, even though I unwaveringly refer to him as “Socrates’ little touch-puppet.”) I, on the other hand, am a science fiction and fantasy nerd. Books, comics, games — I love ’em all. (And when I realized the mysterious bad guy in Star Trek Into Darkness was Khan Noonien Singh, I nearly snorted a Cheerio up my nose.
For reasons I will never understand, my wife just cannot get into sci-fi. Space ships, laser beams, warp drives, lightsabers and aliens are all lost on her, even though sci-fi has clearly been predicting the future of technology since the 1960s and now serves as a beacon for all of humanity’s hopes and aspirations for entering into a golden age of enlightenment and prosperity the likes of which the galaxy has never known god dammit.)
But you know which genre my wife does like? Fantasy. She loved the Lord of the Rings trilogy and she owns all of the Harry Potter books (in German, by the way, which somehow makes them seem even nerdier). So of course we’re both crazy about the HBO series, A Game of Thrones. I read all the books and she listened to me rave about them. Then, after the TV series came out, we ordered the DVDs and had them shipped here to Germany.
The only bad thing about loving a series like this is when it comes to an end. As we finished the last disc one night, my wife turned to me, punched the pillow sitting on her lap and said:
“But I want to watch more King of the Thorns!”
Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”
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