SarcasticSmiler's Randomness

...I have eight days to build up enough stock for it. Three of those days I’m at work, one of them I’m running errands and dropping mum off at the hairdressers, so really I have just over four-ish days.

And on the one hand I feel a little mentally scarred because they’re my grandparents.

And on the other, I kept thinking ‘I reckon Bilbo and Thorin would use things like this’

These new acronyms are BURMA (Be Upstairs Ready My Angel), NORWICH ((k)Nickers Off Ready When I Come Home), and ITALY (I Trust And Love You or I’m Thinking About Loving You)

In my attempt to shed some light on this elusive woman I ordered her marriage certificate, hoping that knowing who her father was would help pin her down.

The certificate arrived today.

Her father’s name is John.

John Jones.

That is just as bad as flipping Mary Jones!

It would seem that even though they’ve been dead for over a hundred years, my family enjoys fucking with me.

This discovery was promptly followed by the desire to just give up.

Why?

She was born in Wales. Do you have any idea how common the surname ‘Jones’ is in Wales?

And to top it all off her first name is Mary.

All I know about this woman is she married John Thomas in Essex, but she was born in Flintshire, possibly Holywell.

Do you know how many babies called Mary Jones were born in Holywell in 1839?

Nineteen!

Ok, two things.

First, I’m pretty sure I turned that off earlier, why is it suddenly back on?

Me?

I find a line of dick jokes.

I’m, unfortunately, serious.

This is all from my maternal grandfather’s side.

If you go up his mother’s line then her maiden name was ‘Head’, there are rather a lot of males in that line called Richard. So it has now been christened the ‘Dick Head Line’.

Go up his father’s line and there seems to be a fair few chaps called ‘John Thomas’...and it is at this point I sat at the computer with an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ expression on my face, before frantically opening google and hoping ‘John Thomas’ didn’t mean what I thought it meant. But, nope, it’s definitely a slang term for a penis.

Me: They’ve moved the cigars where the tobacco used to be, and now the tobacco is up that end with all its accoutrements next to it.

Him: Accoutrements?

Me: Yes.

Him: Is that a word?

Me:....yes, it means all the various things that go with it.

Him: Where did you learn that?

Me: (a bit puzzled over his reaction) Reading, mother, and such.

Him: Reading your mother?!

Me: What? No! There’s a comma there! Reading comma mother. Two separate things!

He proceeded to look at me strangely and just leave after that, muttering ‘reading your mother’ to himself.

Got Darwyn a new jumper today, I just couldn’t resist.