Given the time of year, I reminded myself of some old christmas presents I’d recieved, including one year, a gameboy. I was maybe fourteen. However, my mother, bless her, wouldnt call it a gameboy, oh no. She mistakenly called it a PLAYBOY. And would tell the neighbours that I was spending an awful amount of time with a playboy I got for christmas, and that she was concerned about the damage i might be doing to my eyes. “If you spend any longer with that playboy, you’ll go blind!” she would tell me, usually among a large congregation of friends and relatives.
Christ.
guffaw 
I’m sorry, but that’s …
Give her an actual Playboy by way of comparison. She’ll never make THAT mistake again, I can almost guarantee. Heh.
I’d post something, but I’m laughing too hard.
The Adventures of Jesus Mom! Join the Mother of the Son of God (The Virgin Mary?) as she fights for truth, justice, and the Christian way!
[reads OP]
Ohhh…that’s different. Never mind.
Am I the only one who thought the threat title was a response to the question “Who’s at the door, son?”?
Hilarious OP!
I have something similar, but not as funny. My mom used to use the word “hickey” to mean “pimple.” One time we were on the bus and she said something like, “I’m much too old to still be getting hickeys, but when I woke up this morning I had a hickey on my nose.”
The people in the seat in front of us turned around to stare at her. I cracked up.
I got a mom-ism for ya.
My mother once announced to a room full of people that she went to the beauty shop that day to get her hair washed and a …
…blow job. :smack:
I was about 16 at the time and wanted to crawl under the carpet. Everyone else thought it was hilarious.
I can top that PapSett, with a grandmaism. I love my grandma dearly but she was the queen of the inappropriate/offensive non-sequitir. Once when several family members were at our house all the women were doing each other’s hair. Grandma picks up a hair dryer and loudly asks, “who wants a blow job?”
This was no accident. I was 13 at the time and was not suprised at all by this. I clenched my teeth and pretended I didn’t hear. Her younger daughter, in her early 20s, whispered loudly to her, “mom, do you know what that means?” It was all I could do to yell out “******, I’m fucking amazed that you know what it is!”
Ow!
Ow!
Ow!
Sprayed spicy hummus out my nose just now.
Here’s one: in college I had a boyfriend who grew up in the Barrio in East L.A… He was bright, and was given a scholarship to Yale, pre-med.
His mother was so proud of her son, and went around telling her friends that her son went to… (imagine the accent)… Jale.
I was at the supermarket with my mom and I grabbed a copy of PlayStation Magazine (PSM). My mom looks at it, and in the middle of the produce aisle says, “What’s this PMS magazine?”.
Upon seeing me read it at home, my aunt did the same damn thing. Those menopausal wimmens I tell ya…
My mom has a horrible habit of saying the wrong things at the wrong times much too loud. I write smut fan fiction on occasion, and she happened to stumble upon some pages of looseleaf in my room. Later, while she, my brother and were standing outside the mall, she says out of nowhere, “So, [me] is writing sex stories now! She’s writing out her little fantasies of her and other guys.” I could have crawled into a hole and died.
This happened about 15 years ago when my dad was recovering from a stroke, and we had hordes of visitors and friends visiting and offering their 0.02$ of advice on effective treatments, physio, and alternative therapies. One gent (whose wife recovered from a mild stroke a few months back) looks my dad square in the eye and says “Why dont you use a vibrator? I used a vibrator everyday on my wife and man oh man did she love it.”
He meant massager, of course, to stimulate muscle recovery, but that didnt stop me (aged 12) from biting down hard on my tongue till I managed to make it out of my dad’s room and pass out on the floor outside uncontrolled laughter. Ten seconds later my mom joins me outside with tears rolling her face.