The "F" Word

Gather 'round little boys and girls and let me tell you a tale. This story boasts of kings and queens, knights and dragons. Not really, but it sounds good, right? This story is about my family, my husband to be more specific. For those of you who read his blog, you know how brutally honest he can be. It's quite easy to be so brazen when you are a nameless and faceless person on the web, but Brandon is also like this in real life. Let me prove it to you:

One evening while we (Brandon and I) were sitting down to enjoy dinner with my mom, dad, sister, and brother in-law, the topic of conversation flowed to bad words. Why they are bad, where they originiated, what they mean, etc. Please don't envision my family to be prim and proper, we are nothing of the sort, especially because dinner conversation topics are open to absolutley anything you can think of, though we usually keep it mid-graphic. With all six of us at the dinner table, eventally the "F" word comes up after all other words have been discussed. My sister chimes in with what I think is a very reasonable and logical explanation to how the word came about. It stands for Fornicating Under Consent of the King. She went on to explain that back in Midevil times, this word was posted on the doors of those who were legally "doing the deed" with prostitutes. But no, the discussion of the word did not end there, though I truly wish it had. My dear husband decides he has a rebuttal. You see, he was told that this word was an onomatopoeia (when a word sounds like what it is, i.e. buzz, murmur). Back in the days of attending the Christian college, one of Brandon's college buddies told him that this was where the "F" word came from. This person will remain nameless to protect the seemingly pure, but I will give a hint that I have a link to his blog on my site ... YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Not only does Brandon explain this at the dinner table, but horror of all horrors, he gives a demonstration!!! As I watch with my jaw on the floor and my face turning a bright shade of crimson, he sits there at the dinner table imitating sex noises and banging his hands together in a rythmic fashion. My family sat there and stared at him for a while before looking at my face and burst out laughing.

This, my friends, is the typical BSC. Trying his hardest to embarass me beyond belief. The next day my mom tells her friends at the tennis club "Guess what I learned from my son in-law last night ...."