Game of Thrones - Episode Two, The Kingsroad

Before launching into my recap of Game of Thrones Episode Two, in my last recap I forgot to mention that during the first episode each of the Ned’s children, including Bastard Jon Snow, received a direwolf. Direwolves in Westeros are like regular ole grey wolves in North America. Originally they were to be killed as their mother was dead, but them someone said, “But the Direwolf is the symbol on the Stark crest.” I wish the symbol on the McInnis/McCall family crest was Jameson Irish Whiskey, to know that I could never pass it by without taking it into my awaiting arms. Heaven.

We open on a whole lot of horses walking in a line. Horses like line dances, I know this from cowboys. Seems the Dothraki are nomadic. Daenerys looks at them wearing a lovely sheer gown. When I am on a horse, traveling with savages, I too like to look pretty. She is given something to eat by Jorah and she says “Isn’t there anything else”. What comes first the bitch or the queen? She is told that the Dothraki have an abundance of grass and horses, and people can’t live on grass. Tell that to San Francisco, Jorah! They come to camp and poor Daenerys can’t walk. Is it the horse ride, or the fact that her King is eight feet tall and makes Conan the Barbarian feel fat so I can imagine what that wedding night was like. Ouchy. Her brother is there being a big douche bag, as usual.

Back at Winterfell, seems Bran did not die from his three story fall, which is surprising given the fact that I am pretty sure leeches are the medical miracle of the day. He lies under his fur blankets (Pottery Barn?) with eyes closed, his mother looking on. Boring. Thankfully the next seen is a bunch of dogs in a barn, and who is that laying in the bed of hay - our very own dwarf about town, Tyrion Lannister. He awakes and find his nephew Joffrey looking upon him and saying “A better of lot of bitches than you are used to Uncle?” Oh, what! Tyrion tells Joffrey to pay his respects to the Starks, and he is all “Yeah, no.” But the Tyrion slaps him repeatedly to get his point across. Joffrey is aghast and runs away like the pansy he is. We meet his protector - the Hound. The Hound’s face is partly melted away. You can’t protect someone with a whole face, retards.

Tyrion bounces into the Lannister breakfast where he dazzles his niece and nephew with his wit and crude humor and infuriates his sister Cersei, especially when he brings up the fact that the Stark child is going to survive. Eyes bug. Tyrion sips on his dark ale and explains that he will not be traveling back to Kingsroad, but instead going to see the Wall. Sightseeing! Seems Jon Snow has decided to take the Black - which from I can gather, means you will never have sex again, because you can’t watch a wall and do it.

Cersei makes a bee line for Bran and finds his mother Catelyn, who apologizes for not being appropriately dressed. Thankfully, Cersei understands. She asks how Bran is doing, and then launches in how she lost her son. Because that is exactly what you want to bring up to a mother agonizing over her near death child. How your kid died. But this tale of her son’s death did put Cersei otherwise known as Bitchface into a better light. I guess but she is still the same lady screwing her brother.

There are many goodbyes. Jon to Arya (who gives her a sword). Jon to Bran (I wish I could see you wake up, but I am taking the black!). Jon to Robb (Hugs). Ned to Catelyn (Don’t cheat on me again, asshole). Ned to Jon (I’ll tell you about your mother when we meet again - which may be never).

The King and Ned have lunch and start to remember about the war and the women. It was war, what could we do? Remember that busty lass Bessie? Remember how you had a son with a wench and then brought him home so that your wife would silently hate him? Good times. Then the King gets down to business - Daenerys has wedded Khal Drogo - leader of the Dothraki. The Targaryens are after my thrown. This is proof. And Ned is all, dude, why even worry, that Dothraki don’t even have boats. They have horses and can’t swim. Fucking Kings are so stupid, right? But the King warns that a war is coming. Like I would be watching this show if one wasn't.

Back at Kamp Khal, the Dothraki are whooping it up, eating horse, and probably killing each other. Tired and Horny, Drogo comes in and flips Daenerys around and mounts her accordingly. Who says romance is dead? As Dany winces and cries, she stares at her dragon eggs - which are now in a box surrounded by candles - pretty, pretty dragon eggs take away the pain of honeymoon mischief.

Some guy I don’t know is talking to Catelyn about something (I had taken Nyquil at the beginning of the show). He is all - blah, blah, fire. He runs out, where this hooded man comes in with a knife wanting to kill Bran to put him out of his misery, but Katelyn fights him, her hands on the blades. Then Bran’s direwolf jumps from the window, into the room and basically removes said attacker’s neck and gizzards in bloody gore. Finally, blood!

I then closed my eyes in a Nyquil haze opening them to what I thought was Cinemax. But nope, just Daenerys and her lady helper engaged in showing Dany the ropes when it comes to pleasing Drogo. Seems while other girls at twelve were playing with Barbies and wondering if they truly had a psychic connection to Flintstones episodes (me), others were learning the ways of wooing (Dany’s helper). Interesting, the way to Khal Drogo’s heart, is riding him - just like a horse. You are what you eat it seems.

Joffrey and Sansa are strolling and drinking wine where the stumble upon Arya playing pretend swords with the Butcher’s son. Joffrey is pissed (because of his hair?), and takes it out on the boy while Arya and Sansa look on. As he cuts the boys face, Arya can take it no longer and hits Joffrey. Then Joffrey tries to hit Arya. But oh hell no, Direwolves don’t like people hurting their masters, and Joffrey’s hand is mangled while his sword is thrown into the water by Arya.

Because Joffrey is probably genetically handicapped, he runs to his mom who summons the King and all hell breaks loose. Joffrey wants Arya punished, her dog dead. But the dog ran off at Arya’s bidding, and now Cersei says that Lady, Sansa’s Direwolf, must take the punishment. Because Ned is Ned Stark does not let others do what is his to do, he himself insists on putting Lady down. Meanwhile the Butcher’s son was also taken down by The Hound. More gore, and here I was about to worry.

We don’t see the Direwolf being executed (because beheadings are one thing, direwolves are quite another), but what is this, what do we see next - Bran, with eyes wide opened. I’m back!

Two Stories

Story One - Out of the Mouth of Babes

Owen was home sick on Tuesday from some mystery fever that lasted all of the 2.5 seconds his preschool was able to take it and call us for the 24 hour mandatory stay away. Owen was not sick, but he had to stay home. John who has the fortune (not really if you have a sick kid) of working from home, watched him. About to be on an important telephone conference, John told Owen that he had to be very quiet and if anything came up, he needed to go to him and pull on his shirt and whisper what he wanted. Ten minutes or so, there was a gentle pull on John’s shirt, “Daddy. Daddy.”, Owen whispered (amazingly!). “What?”, asked John. “Daddy. Can I have my drums?”. “No.” “I’ll be quiet. I promise.” Then John laughed for 22 minutes.

Story Two - My Running Pants Raped Me.

Since the end of January, I have been running a ton. I have upped my distance, upped my speed and become one of those people who only use stairs. Hate me, I don’t care. Yesterday, on my 5.5 mile Fort Mason Up that Awful Hill Run something occurred. Granted, my running clothes are loose of late. Running clothes should never be loose because you will be like a gazelle down the Embarcadero - sweating and spitting and swearing - all the while, unbeknownst to you, because you are all hopped up on endorphins, your pants will be moving up and down repeatedly. Because you are cheap and prefer to by factory deficient running clothes from Ross, these cotton pants will begin to chaff you. The rough fabric and fantastic running speed no match for the smooth skin of your backside. So not only has the so-called healthy sport of running brought me exercised induced asthma, it now has given intimate knowledge of anal sodomy. Thank you exercise. Thank you.

Game of Thrones: A Recap

Unlike other recaps that delve into the intrinsic nature of plot and character development, this recap is simply my perspective of the show via a single viewing and while, most likely, drunk. Full disclosure, I have read Game of Thrones and have started the second book A Clash of Kings three times. Because I was either pregnant or nursing Owen, there is little I remember about these books. And let’s face it, fantasy as a genre is not my favorite - probably because I have a 25% chance of pronouncing anything correctly, and reading names like Daenerys over and over causes anxiety. Before proceeding I think we need to make mention of the Game of Thrones fan - I direct you to this: http://www.georgerrmartin.com/fans/index.html. Exactly, so without further ado -

HBO’s Game of Thrones, Episode One: Winter is Coming.

Up goes a gate and there are three men on horses. Horses! They exit through a tunnel carrying torches. Because it is fantasy people, and there is no electricity in fantasy. There are horses, fire, big gates, and fur. All of which is shown in 3.2 seconds. Is this the middle ages? No, its Westeros, a fantasy land created by George RR Martin. FANTASY. Our men exit the tunnel in front of a huge white snow covered imposing wall. Due to the ominous background music, I have deduced that these men are on a search for something most likely of a terrible nature. Our three men separate in the search. A tall lanky blonde blue eyed guy stumbles upon cut up bodies arranged in some sort of cultish symbol, or the murderer is obsessively compulsive. He races back to the others, where he begins to speak in an English accent. Because English accents scream fantasy, although poor choice George RR, because a Boston accent would have killed it. Killed it! Now we have some scuttlebutt because whisper thin Blondie is all - they are dead dude, we gotta go back. His friend, a burley bearded man, agrees. The leader is all - we gotta check it out, because “he” will want to know what happened. Who is this “he?”. I don’t know, but he sounds like an asshole. If I just saw a sculpture of body parts, I would have been all - outy 500 bitches. But Mr. Suck Up needs to impress his boss, so they travel back to the location. And nothing is there. No blood, no dead girl on a tree with weird eyes, and no bodies. Nothing. Basically, he of the cockney accent says “But sir, they were there.” “Oh really! Where are they now?” But then this super tall white half yeti creature appears and with a single blood laden sword swipe takes out the leader. Which is a lesson to all - when someone tells you there are a bunch of cut up body parts in a circle then you should probably not go back to check it out. The other two take off, and yeti gives chase catching up quickly to bearded fat dude, because he’s fat. He lifts his hair and a sweep of his sword decapitates while our blond skinny looks on. Yeti then flings this head so that it rolls up to Blondie with eyes fully opened. Holler bitches! This is Game of Thrones. Fade to black.

Theme Song and Opening Montage. This basically was a map with buildings sprouting up and some weird flutey music. I wanted to jig and/or fast forward.

Our story opens with an errant arrow. We pan to a young boy with bow, the source of many laughs. A man obvious of great power says - and were any of you great marksmen at the age of 10. Everyone becomes silent, because dude just smacked your ass down. There is some chit chat of a somewhat serious nature because of a deserter. Who dat? Dat is blondie, eyes bugged out and speaking all crazy talk of White Walkers (a/k/a the yeti snow giant). Ned Start, leader, must now take care of said deserter the only way he know how - in front of his kids with a giant ass sword. Another beheading is had and this time in daylight. Or fog-light, since you know, winter is coming.

Anyhoo, next some guy is dead. I know this because he is on a slab and has stones on his eyes. I can put two and two together with the best of them. Seems this guy was the Hand of the King, which is seemingly a close advisor. So now the king needs a new advisor - hello Eddard Stark. The King and Ned go way back. Homeys! In fact, the King travels a month to reach Ned in order to woo him into being Hand of the King. Is it me, or does that sound sort of gross and homoerotic? The King travels with his wife (Cersei), his son (Joffrey), her wife’s twin brother (Jaimie) and her other brother a dwarf (Tyrion) and his minions. Ned prepares by getting lots of booze and hookers. This is my kind of party.

The King arrives. Ned, his wife Catelyn and his children - Robb, Sansa, Arya and Bran - bow accordingly. The King calls Ned fat, and they laugh. Just like me and my friend Diane, who is really fat by the way - I don’t care if she gave birth 2 weeks ago. By the way, Ned also has another kid named John Snow - he is a bastard. As in Ned got busy with someone other than his wife. The cad!

The King asks Ned to be his Hand. Ned wavers. The King goes to see Ned’s sister’s grave - whom he really loved because he is all she should be buried atop a hill in a meadow in the sunlight - also he said she should have been his wife. True love people. Ned is all she belongs here, underground in stone. No light for her!

Now begins the boobies. Our next family to meet are the Targaryens (I had to look that up), sister Daenerys and Vicerys. They are the descendents of the former ousted king currently exiled. They have silver hair, and Vicerys takes off his sister’s clothes to examine her “womanly figure” (boobies!) because he is going to marry her off to a savage. The savage is Khal Drogo, leader of the Dothraki. From what I can tell the Dothraki like to fight, drink and have sex. What a wedding. There are intestines gutted and a wedding gift of petrified dragon eggs. And I thought my Kitchen Aid mixer was cool. Then comes the wedding night - Dany crying while Drogo strips and circles her saying “No.” Just like me and John. Ah, memories. Drogo has some impressive man boobies. I told you it was all about the boobs.

Next we meet Tyrion who is a little person, although I don’t’ think there is any political correctness in Westeros, because we are calling one kid a bastard and another one a dwarf. But Tyrion has a big wiener, I know this because when with a whore, he states “It is my only gift from God”. I ask you, why is he called Tyrion and not Tri-pod? Also, he is played by Peter Dinklage. Dink! Is that too much penis humor for you? I don’t think so. Boobs galore in the meeting of Tyrion. He seems to like whores.

Party time. Queen Cersei and Catelyn sit watching the King who is “whoring” and “drinking”. Love him. He is dancing with a wench, then proceeds to make out with said wench in the presence of his queen. How dare he. The queen only flinches. A totally appropriate response. Then there is some discussion about Sansa and Joffrey getting married so that Ned and the King will become one big happy arranged marriage family. Sansa is pretty annoying, but this Joffrey guy looks a bit genetically challenged. Which is funny, because what do we find out at the end of this episode? Cersie and her twin brother totally going at it, to which Bran (climbing the castle wall) has the unfortunate accident of discovering, because (1) incest is gross and (2) Jamie shoves him out the window.

And there you have it - Game of Thrones, Episode One: Winter is Coming a/k/a Beheadings, Boobies and Let’s Kill a 10 year old - oh my!

The Tomboy's Guide to Pregnancy and Parenting - When Two Is Enough

Because John and I have decided that there would be no further additions to our family, I am on the birth control. John did volunteer to have himself snipped. But I said no. Do you know that if a man does not die of anything else, he is guaranteed a 100% chance of prostate cancer? That little nugget of fact made the vas deferens (science joke!) to me. And although the two are most likely not related, it screamed to me - let those sperm swim free and not be prisoners in my husband’s testicles causing his inevitable demise. Because if John were to die, I would be alone with those two kids. NO!!!!!

Now because these sperm are present with their little heads of genetic material waiting to ravage my eggs, I went on the pill. The typical use failure rate of the diaphram (my previous chosen birth control method) hovers at twenty percent. These are dice I had no intention of rolling. Pretty much anything that does not guaranty me 99.99% effectiveness is not going to fly. Because I do not want anymore kids, ever, in case I have not made myself perfectly clear.

The side effects of the pill are best summed up as short term monthly psychosis. I don’t say this lightly, because let’s face it people, the pill is telling your body - “Dude, you are so knocked up.” “You got a little baby in there.” “So don’t be shooting eggs off.” “Keep em housed up in that ovary.” “That a girl.” Then every 28 days it goes “Psyche! You stupid bitch, you ain’t pregnant.” “You are so dumb. Let me make you crazy with PMS.” “Look, that person looks like a Dorito, you better eat him.” I am sure there is some hormonal scientific explanation about this but I feel better that the pill is like the older brother I never had who is constantly lying to me and punching me in the gut at appropriate times. Because that is what the cramps feel like, punches to the gut.

But I suffer on a monthly basis because the thought of more children makes me weep and curl into the fetal posiiton. I can't stand Pill PMS, its a super hybrid of regular PMS which in itself sucks ass. Yesterday, every look to the mirror made me cringe. Incredibly uncomfortable in my body and super short-tempered - the best combination ever! But I took deep breathes, and more importantly downed an almost bottle of wine and a few beers. And today is better. I finished a 6.5 mile run and my thoughts are clearer and less psychotic. The tide, she will come. Although I am counting the months until I go back on the diaphram. Because 2 years from now, my eggs will be little old ladies of crippled DNA incapable of children. Hooray for my 40s. I can’t believe I just said that.