When my partner first suggested to me we watch Game of Thrones, I almost slapped him in the kidney. Not because he deserved it, but because I am an obviously angry woman who waits for any excuse to physically humiliate a man.
I sat down to watch it, fully prepared to tell him how much I hated it – while slapping one of his vital internal organs.
I so did not hate it. In fact, I love Game of Thrones so much that waiting for the next episode leaves me to suffer from what I now call “Dinklage Withdrawal” – which sounds unintentionally sexy.
Dinklage Withdrawal refers to Peter Dinklage, the actor who plays Tyrion Lannister. I love him harder than a goat loves a stump. If his character winds up with his head on a stick, (which happens on Game of Thrones about every 7 seconds) you may see me on the news.
I would totally climb to the top of a water tower wearing a clown wig and carrying a high-powered rifle in defense of Tyrion aka Peter aka my future husband.
When a bad man sliced Tyrion’s face with a sword, I very nearly had to be hospitalized.
Here’s a little known fact about me, in case you’re ever on Jeopardy and I am a category: I love Arthurian Legend. I have since high school.
Game of Thrones is like King Arthur… but with soft porn, lots of imaginative swearing, and the constant, soothing sound of guts being cut out of a human body with a sword.
There are plenty of wonderful characters, but you learn you can never get too attached to any of them. (Except my beloved Tyrion, of course.) Heads roll in this series … literally.
There are also plenty of characters to hate – none more than King Joffrey. He is, to put it as succinctly as I can, an epic twit.
If you haven’t seen Game of Thrones, you must. In case I was too subtle in this post, don’t watch with the kids, with a minister of any denomination, or with people who are prone to faint when they see boobies or blood.