Nerd Couple Quotes

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, there's a couple lying naked in bed reading Encyclopediea Brittannica to each other, and arguing about whether the Andromeda Galaxy is more 'numinous' than the Ressurection. Do they know how to have a good time, or don't they?

They've been married for a little over a year, and they've withstood a lot together, with no signs of parting. They channel power from the universe that only nerd stars can access. I'm sure of it. The galaxy is on their side.

It’s been a tough couple of years for condescending nerds. And if bookstores fall, Jon, America will be inundated with a wandering, snarky underclass of unemployable purveyors of useless and arcane esoterica.

Life at the Shadowunter Academy was lacking in a lot of things Simon once belived he couldn't live without: computers, music, comic books, indoor plumbing. Over the past couple of months, he'd gotten mostly used to doing without, but there was one glaring absence he still couldn't wrap his head around. Shadowhunter Academy had no nerds.

I also become the local computer nerd. The administration brings me in to fix all the computers, I create viruses to invade at a specific day and time. They call me in, and I eradicate my own virus, only to plant another one to go into effect a couple months later. They ask me why I can't just fix the computers once and for all. I tell them to quit going to porn sites and it will stay fixed. That shuts them up every time.

we suggest going to sleep for a couple of years. Then you can wake up and learn Android programming once Gingerbread devices no longer make up a meaningful share of the market.

Raquel? You coming?” “I honestly never thought I would see the light of day again.” “Aww, come on. With me on your side? Of course things worked out.” She tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears. Thank you, Evie.” I threw my arms around her in a hug. “You don’t have to thank me.” “I really do. You wonderful girl. I’ve missed you so much.” “Well, now that we’re both unemployed fugitives, think of how much time we’ll have to hang out!” She laughed drily, and we walked with our arms around each other to the house. I opened the door and yelled, “Evie alert! Coming into the family room!” “You made it!” Lend shouted back. “Just a sex, I’ll go to the kitchen. Raquel’s with you?” “Yup!” “Good job! Jack and Arianna got back a couple of minutes ago.” I walked into the family room to find Arianna and Jack sitting on the couch, arguing. “But here would have been no point to you being there if it hadn’t been for my computer prowess.” “But your computer prowess wouldn’t have mattered if you couldn’t have gotten into the Center in the first place.” “Being a glorified taxi does not make you the bigger hero.” “Being a nerd who can tap on a keyboard or being able to navigate the dark eternities of the Faerie Paths . . . hmmm . . . which is a rarer and more valuable skill . . .” I put my hands on my hips. “Okay, kids, take it elsewhere. Raquel and I have work to do.” “Evie,” Raquel said. She was staring at Jack in horror. “Oh, that.” I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s all good. Jack’s been helping us.” “Don’t you remember how he tried to kill you?” Jack rolled his eyes. “Boring. We’ve all moved on.” “Really?” “Not really,” I said. “But he’s behaving. And everyone needs a glorified taxi now and then.” “Admit it: you all adore me.” Jack bowed dramatically as he left the room. Arianna smiled tightly at Raquel and left after him. Raquel collapsed onto the couch and closed her eyes. “You’re working with Reth and Jack? Have you lost your mind?” “Oh, that happened ages ago. But I’ve had to do a lot of rescuing lately, and those two come in handy.” “Do you trust them?” “No, we don’t,” Lend called from the kitchen.

Logan is behind the counter. “Dude!” he says when he sees me. We give each other a manly hug, slapping each other a couple of times on the back, because that’s what real men do. They acknowledge the bro-love and are never embarrassed about it.

What are you listening to? I love that song.” “It’s the college station. Logan’s show is on,” I say with more than a smidgen of pride. “Hold on.” A second later, Logan’s voice echoes between my radio and hers, which would normally be annoying, but gravelly voice or not, it’s him. “We have a caller. Caller, we’re discussing when was the last time you told someone off. Go ahead.” “Eek.” I can picture her nose crinkle up. “He does not sound happy.” The caller’s voice echoes just like Logan’s did, but this person makes me want to clap my hands over my ears. “I know what’s wrong with you, A.L. It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one you had on the show last week. Well, I’m not going to say I told you so.” “Hold up! I know that voice,” Terra squeals. “I know, right? It’s been driving me crazy but I can’t—” Terra cuts me off. “That’s Rayann.” “No, this girl’s name is Capri.” I pause to listen more. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” Logan says. “If you say so,” Capri says, and it feels like a heavenly light of knowledge bursts through my ceiling to shine down while a choir sings in the background. Those words sound exactly as they did a couple of weeks ago when they were spoken to me. “Oh my good gravy, it is her!” I yell into the phone.

Just what was Princeton working on in Bambleweeny that made him think the Singularity—aka the nerd rapture, aka the moment when artificial intelligence passed humanity and accelerated away into an unknowable future—was arriving a couple of decades ahead of when its other acolytes and prophets proclaimed it would?

If you haven't guessed yet, my family is made up of ultra-nerds. This is not necessarily a bad thing. We play games like Scrabble and watch documentaries together. I have always known that I am going to college. Yet, there are times when it can get a little embarrassing. As Mom admits, "Re-enacting is the final step before Star Trek conventions." In a couple of years, my family will probably be doing that, too.

I’m still eleven years old and still a scrawny dude. As much as I want to say being a ninja bulked me up a bunch, it hasn’t, but that’s a good thing since a beefy ninja would be weird looking. Buchanan School has been good to me. I was the new kid at the start of the year, but nobody really gave me gruff about it. Cool kids and sports stars fill the hallways between classes, and I do my best to stay off everyone’s radar. I’m what some people might call a “comic book nerd,” but I prefer the term “aficionado,” which means I’m more of an expert in comics and less of a nerd. It’s a term I learned from my cousin, Zoe. She’s the coolest cousin in the world, but don’t tell her I said that. I’ve become better friends with Brayden, the werewolf hunter, but I wouldn’t say we’re “best friends.” We’ve hung out a couple times outside of school to watch bad horror movies and make fun of them. Trust me when I say it’s a lot more fun than it sounds. Zoe came over once and even she laughed a couple times. About

He'd always played a lot of games: baseball, basketball, different card games, war and finance games, horseracing, football, and so on, all on paper of course. Once, he'd got involved in a tabletop war-games club, played by mail, with mutual defense pacts, munition sales, secret agents, and even assassinations, but the inability of the other players to detach themselves from their narrow-minded historical preconceptions depressed Henry. Anything more complex than a normalized two-person zero-sum game was beyond them. Henry had invented for the a variation on Monopoly, using twelve, sixteen, or twenty-four boards at once and an unlimited number of players, which opened up the possibility of wars run by industrial giants with investments on several boards at once, the buying off of whole governments, the emergence of international communications and utilities barons, strikes and rebellions by the slumdwellers between "Go" and "Jail," revolutionary subversion and sabotage with sympathetic ties across the boards, the creation of international regulatory bodies by the established power cliques, and yet without losing any of the basic features of their own battle games, but it never caught on. He even introduced health, sex, religious, and character variables, but that made even less of a hit, though he did manage, before leaving the club, to get a couple pieces on his "Intermonop" game published in some of the club literature.

Do you have an affinity for any character in particular?” MARTI: “Willow is probably closest to who I really was. I was an egghead, and I didn’t date until college. I was totally antisocial, and I was very, very, very shy. I couldn’t talk to boys. So I was much more Willow, although Willow is way cooler than I was. You know, there’s no one as geeky as me on this show. There’s nobody as awkward and introverted, and creepy as I was. I scared my friends. I was just a big drama nerd—I was too gregarious, too silly, then I would withdraw, and then I was too quiet. A couple of other girls and I were the biggest nerds in the universe. We were pizza-faced and just completely couldn’t talk. There was a hall that wasn’t actually a classroom, like an in-between place, called Room 6—it didn’t lead anywhere, it was just a dead end. We would stay in Room 6 because no one ever walked through there. That’s where we would hide so we wouldn’t have to talk to people. “It wasn’t the hardest time in my life, because I had a support system. I had what Buffy has. I had my Xander and my Willow and we had each other and we got through it. Man, thank God those weren’t my glory days. I hope my glory days are still ahead.” Marti Noxon

prom was less a prom and more a fancy dance. There were no limos or corsages or tuxedos. The guys who owned suits would be wearing them, but half the students would probably be in a blazer and khakis. And it wasn’t like prom where dates showed up together. The long-term couples did, sure, but most of the dates just met each other there. Armed with the knowledge of what to expect, I met Katie there. Sort of. I showed up, and she showed up, but it became pretty clear that we weren’t really there together. What happened between Katie’s immediate yes and her arrival to turn us so utterly platonic? Did Katie not understand I had asked her as a date? I specifically didn’t say as friends—she had to have known the difference. She was a worldly senior, after all. Then it hit me. Katie was a senior, and she couldn’t go to junior prom unless a junior asked her. And she wanted to go to junior prom with her best friend. It didn’t matter that Amalia thought Katie and I made a cute couple. Katie didn’t agree, and her opinion on the matter was way more influential. I gave my theory one final test. A slow song came on, and I approached Katie from across the room. Because that’s where she was hanging out—completely across the room. “Let’s dance,” I said, with the courage of a man who had nothing to lose. Not “Would you like to dance?” or “I was just thinking, maybe we should dance?” But a confident, assured, “Let’s dance.” That was the kind of thing that a boyfriend would say to a girlfriend if she was his date at the junior prom. So why couldn’t I say it to my date? Katie took my hand and we walked to the dance floor, and we danced. If you could call what we did dancing. We stood as far apart as we could while still technically touching and took small steps from side to side. My hands did their best

her finger tips were on my shoulders. Had a casting director been there, Katie would have been given the lead in any zombie movie she wanted. What we did was as much dancing as sleeping is strenuous exercise. After our non-dance, it was pretty obvious that Katie had just used me as an entry point to the party. So I did what anyone should have done in that situation. I danced by myself. I didn’t intend to dance by myself. The sting of my zombie realization was too fresh for me to do anything fun. But dancing was my only choice. There are very few situations where someone has no choice but to dance. Maybe someone is shooting at their feet in an old western, yelling “dance, monkey, dance!” Perhaps they’re in a coming-of-age movie where dance is the only way for those young whippersnappers to express themselves. Or, in my case, they are shoved into the middle of a circle and have to choose between fight or flight. I’d been to enough USY events to understand that most high school dances consist of circles of half a dozen to a dozen students dancing not too close to each other. Sometimes, the circle becomes an opportunity for a student to show off, or for a couple to try to demonstrate just how in love they are by grinding their pelvises against each other’s knees. Or the circle can become one more place for Scarlet Daly to try to embarrass you. What Scarlet didn’t realize when she pushed me into the middle of that circle was that I was not the same meek kid who had tried to defend myself by quoting Gone with the Wind. I had spent the last three years in USY as part of dance circles—just not in front of anyone who went to Hunter. So as the music played, I danced. Whether I was an objectively good dancer or not didn’t matter.

going to ask Katie.” Amalia practically burst through the phone. I was sure that part of Amalia’s excitement was having a friend that might be going to the party with her. But she also went on and on about how she had always thought that Katie and I would make such a cute couple and it was a wonderful idea and she was rooting for me and several other encouraging statements. Amalia also said that I’d better ask Katie soon, since it was going to be hard to keep that a secret. I called Katie right after I hung up. I didn’t have the guts to get rejected in person, but Amalia’s excitement had excited me. Katie and I talked about the latest assignment, a modern satire of a great work. I was planning on writing a version of “The Raven” about high school, an idea that Katie seemed to like. After all, she was writing a high-school version of Macbeth. We were in sync in many ways. And then, I just said it. “Do you want to go to the junior prom with me?” Katie said yes immediately. There was no time to blabber about how I thought it made sense for her to go because Amalia was going or to add in an as friends. Katie had said yes. I didn’t know what to expect from junior prom when I got there. The last school dance I’d been to was the first school dance I was able to go to. I was so excited for that one—Hunter had a few dances each year, and when the first dance came around, I put on my best ugly shirt (I wasn’t fashion forward enough to know that orange shirts are a bad idea for a redhead) and stood there awkwardly while everyone ignored me. From then on, school dances weren’t my thing. I had spent the previous three years at USY dances though, so I wasn’t intimidated by junior prom. I just wanted to know what I was in for. Jacob Corry’s girlfriend was a senior, so she became my Obi-Wan.

Martin Chorley’s utilitarian office turned out to be less interesting than his study. He had every OS Map of the British Isle ever published, going all the way back to the nineteenth century, plus a range of specialist maps and gazettes—some of which I recognized from my post-Herefordshire research. A couple of Edwardian earthwork surveys, the Old Straight Track by Alfred Watkins and The Real Middle Earth: Magic and Mystery in the Dark Ages which confirmed that Martin Chorley was an enormous Tolkien nerd. As if the five or six different editions of The Lord of the Rings and the signed first edition of The Hobbit wasn’t enough proof. He hadn’t neglected the other Inklings, though—C.S. Lewis had a shelf. And he didn’t have any objection to YA either, judging by the collection of Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising sequence, again first editions, but these ones far too well read to be worth much, beside similarly worn copies of The Owl Service and the rest of Alan Garner’s books.