so the thing about my family is that we have two ancestors on my dad’s side who were buried in france, where I currently live. one died in the spanish civil war, and one died prior doing…we don’t know what. but he somehow managed to get buried in père lachaise.
so anyhow, my gran sends me a message like “pls put flowers on ur uncle samuel’s grave because he’s gone over a century with none and it will make the ghost mad if he hasn’t already” because my family spends time in europe but never long enough to go all the way to père lachaise and give ya boy samuel jr. his death rites. so im like “ok gran I can do that” bc im a good grandson and you do not fuck with gran she doesn’t DESERVE THAT
i figure out which plot he’s on and ask someone specifically where you can find uncle samuel jr. and they tell me where and so I arrive at the junction and.
HE GONE.
WHERE DID YOU GO UNCLE SAMUEL.
*celine dion’s smash hit “my heart will go on” playing in the distance*
in other words either someone stole my entire great great uncle samuel or he has risen again, ready to party in paris for all of eternity.
You’re pretty chill about a corpse disappearing.
My guy, my dude, he’s been dead since 1851. He could be anywhere. He does what he wants.
What a way to learn you have a Vampire in the family.
I’m not a fashion person but I do like when there’s a big crowd at the train station and I can people watch. You all dress very nice and I like the variety of styles. It feels like everyone just picks whatever style they like from the last seventy years and that’s great.
a few days ago bf told me that a couple years ago when he played counterstrike he would respond to dudes getting angry and aggressive and hostile by saying “a kissaroo from me to you” in a slightly goofy friendly voice sort of like the voice you’d associate with a dog muppet. he said they would absolutely lose their shit every time, insisting things like “i dont want a kissaroo from you! only tall blonde girls!”. they always said kissaroo. i cant stop thinking about this
