It probably says something about me that my favorite shows are Vikings, Sons of Anarchy and Game of Thrones. Might I have some aggression issues to work out? Possibly. What was that look for? Eyeball me one more time hero and I swear to you I will….oh, wait…where was I? Right. Television.
So all of my favorite shows are bathed in blood and naked bodies and intrigue and heartache and blood and naked bodies and blood. None of those are the reasons that these shows, Game of Thrones in particular, are ruining my life. What are those reasons? Oh I thought you’d never ask.
Reason Number One
I will never be called Your Grace. Well I suppose in certain circumstances I could get my husband to do it but that hardly counts. No one will bow to me and scurry away in fear muttering “Your Grace” as I flounce past, embroidered skirts sashaying around my highly born ankles. (Do skirts sashay? Can ankles be highly born? These are the questions I need answered). I never thought much about being called Your Grace or the lack thereof but now that I’ve seen it in action, I want that. And I’m never getting it.
Reason Number Two
I fancy myself a bit of a writer and it is clear by the pile of tear stained rejection letters littering my floor that I am somewhat alone in that assertion. Nevertheless, I am completely beside myself that I will never be able to write the chicken scene. You know which one I’m talking about and if you don’t, go to YouTube and google “The Hound and Arya at the Inn”. Sandor Clegane delivers a line that is possibly the best ten seconds in television history. There should have been an Emmy for that line alone. And now it’s been written and not by me. I may as well throw in the towel now. Not right now, I’ll finish this post first.
Reason Number Three
Hodor. That isn’t a reason. I just wanted to say Hodor.
Reason Number Four
The King in the North is dead. Seriously whose oatmeal did the Starks piss in? They cannot get an even break. Or even a slightly less horrifying break.
Reason Number Five
The King in the North lives. I spent an entire season having my heart ripped out so Jon Snow could die so the Red Witch could revive him? Leaving aside the fact that she couldn’t be bothered to revive Rickon or the last living giant in the world, what the what? I cannot continue to go on these emotional roller coaster rides with you GoT!
Yes I can.
Reason Number Six
I will never serve my enemy his sons in a meat pie. First, it sounds like an awful lot of work and second, I don’t have a really good recipe for the crust so if I can’t get a pre-made Pillsbury crust somewhere the whole thing hardly seems worth doing. I still feel cheated, though.
Reason Number Seven
No one separates church from state like Cersei. I want to hate Cersei, I do. I can’t and that concerns me. One thing you don’t do is screw with Cersei. Because then your favorite building with all your favorite people in it goes like this:
While Cersei goes like this: “Mmmm, the steward was right this wine does pair well with mass murder.”
But if you’re the particular person who screwed with Cersei day after day after day and got a little kick out of it while you were doing it…..well……..Queen got a little something special for you. It should be noted that this is the point in my life where I was most ashamed at having stood up from my couch and applauded the Dark Queen. YYYYAAAASSSSS QUEEN!!!!
Reason Number Eight
I will never have Loras Tyrrell’s hair (when he had hair). Ever. None of us will. He delivered a fabulous cutdown to Jamie Lannister when Jamie told Loras that he would never marry Cersei. “And neither will you”: the four word classy nobleman version of “Dude I may like guys but I’m not banging my sister you perv. Oh and FYI, everyone knows it even the pretty little knight who likes men. Late.”
Yes it didn’t work out for him ultimately because this is Game of Thrones and in the Game of Thrones universe beautiful men are not allowed to have things work out for them but while it lasted, oh that hair!
Reason Number Nine
I have an overwhelming desire to get into a situation where I know some spectacular dirt about someone. That person threatens me and in response I issue a veiled threat of my own. I pause to allow the threat to settle in, drain my goblet of wine and smile mockingly. After giving a sarcastic salute, I saunter casually out of the room, my boot heels sounding in dramatic fashion on the centuries old hardwood floor. Behind me my nemesis comes to terms with the power play I just threw down.
Do not try this at the post office. Long story.
There are many other reasons why Game of Thrones is irreparably damaging my life beyond all recognition, from the hopelessness to the gruesome unrelenting barbarity to the deceit in every corner of every spot in Westeros and I am reasonably certain my therapy bills from The Red Wedding alone will run into the thousands. So we’re still on for next season then? Great, I’ll be there.