I am obsessed with The Walking Dead.
That’s right. I said it. OBSESSED. I own the entire series, and I make it a point to buy it as soon as I see it hit the shelf. When the latest season isn’t airing (IS IT OCTOBER YET?!), I binge watch the show from start to finish—once a month. (And no, I don’t think that’s excessive at all. My family on the other hand… well, that’s a different story.) I’ve watched it so much, I’ve unintentionally memorized pretty much all of the dialogue. We have a TWD trivia game, but no one wants to play it with me because I always win. I like to point out little inconsistencies on episodes. (Example: “Chupacabra” [season two, episode five] After Daryl Dixon [Norman Reedus] is thrown from his horse, and hallucinates a conversation with his brother, Merle [Michael Rooker]? Pay attention to the dirt on Daryl’s mouth. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes it’s not.)