A few minutes ago I was sitting at the computer, and my husband walked over to tell me something. As it happened, The Mummy was on television. To me, it was just background noise, but no: make the merest mention of anything to do with ancient Egypt, mummies, or hidden tombs and a nerd's attention will instantly be diverted. If you write "temple of doom" on a slip of paper and place it under my husband's pillow while he sleeps, he will wake from the deepest dream he has ever had to say, "Temple of Doom? Is it on? Has it only started or is it to the part where they pull the guy's heart out?"
So I got up to hug him, thinking it was on a commercial break, and as I wrapped my arms around him sweetly and pressed my heart to his, a cry comes from over my shoulder, "Aww, lads! A mummy's coming out of the ground and you're just standing there like a pack of gobshites? Run! Run!"
A nerd never misses the opportunity to commentate when one of their movies is on, even if they have to shatter their wife's eardrum to warn Brendan Fraser of impending doom.
Remember the movie Big Daddy where Adam Sandler sorta adopts a kid, and the kid won't take a bath, so Sandler dresses up as Scuba Steve to get him to bathe? I can do something similar: If communication breaks down in our marriage, I can devise a way to have messages transmitted through the Sci-Fi channel to my husband by paying for advertising time.
"And now a word from our sponsors. EDMUND, CALL YOUR MOTHER. AND TAKE OUT THE TRASH WHILE YOU'RE AT IT."
Because if I dressed up as a cast member from Star Trek he would just think I was trying to seduce him.