Last week, I took myself down to to the local bookstore and made three fantastically exciting purchases:
- A collection of Icelandic sagas;
- Clash of Kings, the second book in George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Fire and Ice series (commonly known as “those Game of Thrones books” by you neophytes); and
- Surprised by Joy, a memoir by the always fabulous – if slightly contentious – C. S. Lewis.
As if you needed any further evidence of my truly incredible nerdiness, please note: I actually called ahead and put the first of these on hold. Wow.
While my dear blogger friend (we hang out in real life, too) Mac was serenading a certain Gym Butter (that’s his official name, it’s no big deal), I alternated cleaning my apartment with reading fantasy fiction and laughing at Khal and Khaleesi jokes on Gawker.com. While the “trainwreck” portion of my life seems to be pretty obvious, I really need to work on that “twentysomething” part. Oy vey.
To be fair, I followed that up with a pretty epic Longhorns football game on Saturday, complete with some smuggled in Tito’s and a quality queso-fueled after party. But still, where did I find myself on Sunday afternoon?
Curled up on the couch with the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, wondering how many hundreds of pages I could devour before I had to start work again on Monday.
Ah, well. Maybe one day I’ll find my very own Gym Butter, and he’ll know exactly what I’m talking about when I tell him I’ve decided to measure any future men against a fictional warrior named Khal Drogo. Trainwreck averted. Right?