I am a huge “Game of Thrones” fan, mostly of the book series by George R.R. Martin. I’ve been reading them mostly day-of-release for the books. Absolutely fantastic stuff.
When the tv series came out, I, of course, started watching it. The odd thing is that my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Looking For Something To Do, actually started watching with me. I liked the show. She became obsessed. So much so that my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Doing Anything To Avoid Reading She Doesn’t Have To Do, actually requested I buy her the book series.
Which I did.
Now, I’ve done this before and, you know, she’d start off and maybe read a chapter or two. And this would be spread out over months and months. Not this time. She actually powered through the books and, when the so-far last book came out, requested that one and read it as well. It’s funny, really.
As she’s been watching the third season on HBO, she’s been pointing out what is different from the books.
The thing to know about my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Constantly Interrupting The Show To Ask Another Question, is that, while she’s tremendously intelligent, she can’t remember media she’s consumed for anything. She doesn’t even remember whether or not we have seen a movie, much less a semi-important plot point within. I tell you that to explain what happened in the second-to-last episode of Game of Thrones on HBO. There’s an . . . event that happens. It’s a rather large event and very, very shocking.
Somehow, she’d managed to forget about the . . . event until right up to just a few minutes before it happened. Then she watched the TV in horror. “Surely,” she whispered, “they wouldn’t do that.”
Turns out. . . they would. And gleefully, it seems.
Now I’m not the type to forget media I consume. For the most part. So I realized what was coming and saw it from a mile away. I was smug about the whole thing. Especially when I went online later and found out there were people who HADN’T read the books and were simply discovering the story by watching the show.
They were floored. Couldn’t believe it. Nor could my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Written Out Quickly As I’m Having Difficulty Coming Up With So Many New Nicknames, who kept staring blankly at the screen for long after the . . . event was over.
So. Over and done with. Until I found this .gif. Not sure where it comes from, but it perfectly captures the mood in our house. I’d have to add Zippy the College Boy as one of the two ladies, not that he’s a lady, just for his expression. I’m the right smug bastard in the middle. It’s just perfect.
What can I say? I can be a smug little weasel. I know this.
Now, so do you dudes.