We used to run a “Chaplains Corner” pre-recorded bit in the news block of my radio shift. I was listening half heartedly through the headphones as I got my next set ready. The chaplain ended with “And remember, Jesus himself had no visible means of support.”
I said, rather loudly, “Well, except for the nails.”
Yep. Mic wide open. Phone lines are lighting up, and I get to go see The Colonel later that day.
A month or two ago, I was talking about movies with my boyfriend, and I came up with the idea of a reverse slasher movie. “It’d be like a regular slasher movie, except the only way to avoid the killer is to have lots of sex or do drugs.”
“Or be the black guy,” my boyfriend suggested.
“I already covered that with ‘have lots of sex and do drugs.’”
Some race-themed stories in this thread made me think of another inappropriate joke I’ve made.
I was eating dinner with my friend Scott, who is black, and another friend and his girlfriend. My white friend was lightheartedly making fun of Scott about not graduating from high school with everyone else. Scott had forgotten to take Health, and would only receive his diploma after completing the course later in the summer.
Finally, Scott got a little tired of the teasing and told my other friend to stop. “You need thicker skin, Scott,” the other friend replied.
“And lighter,” I said.
:smack: That joke went too far, especially after all the teasing Scott had just endured.
Hanging out with some friends in college, we were lamenting the fact that we all felt so little connection to our own personal history. Most of us didn’t even know anything about our families older than two generations.
Carey, the one black guy among us, mentioned that all he knew was that his great great grandfather was a slave on some plantation back in Alabama.
“That’s amazing,” I said, “My g’g’grandfather used to own a plantation back in Alabama!”
Silence.
Back when mrs Trupa and I were dating in Montreal, we often visited nice little French bistros for dinner in the old-port quarter. One day, we go up to meet one of her friends at the friend’s appartment, and I got to meet her freind’s roommates, one of whom had a very well fed pet rabbit.
*"Ah, a rabbit, *I exclaimed on seeing the critter, those are excellent with honey & mustard sauce!"
The roomate gave me a very dirty & hurt look, and disappeared in her bedroom. The future Mrs Trupa gave me an elbow in the ribs, and pointed out the rabbit-themed salt & pepper shakers, pot-holders, knick-knacks, and other miscellaneous rabbit decorations that festooned the kitchen…
Well, there’s the time when, as a wee tot, I loudly asked my mother “Why does that lady have a head like a bush?” A black lady, with an afro. I hear she was nice about it.
But I think the prize goes to my friend, whose favorite joke is “What’s the difference between a Jew and a pizza?”
“A pizza doesn’t scream when you put it in the oven.”
I’m sure I have lots, but I can only think of two right now. The first was when I was maybe 7 or so. My dad’s father had just died of lung cancer. I was in the car with my mom and we were talking about it, and I said something along the lines of “Oh, well, no one really liked him anyway.” (well, he was a bit of a prick) A lecture ensued. At least I didn’t say it at the funeral.
The second was a couple of years ago. I was at a bar (blame it on the alcohol) and ran into a girl I used to be pretty good friends with in high school. I couldn’t remember her name–for some reason, I couldn’t even think where I knew her from. I apologised and got her name, and asked what she had been doing. She said she had been on some reality TV show on MTV. She told me the name of it and I said, “Wow, I’ve never even heard of that.” She must think I am a total bitch.
I was having a meeting in my office with three other people, one of whom was an extremely attractive woman from Marketing. I was asking her about when to set up a follow-up meeting:
“When can we meet on that?”
“Oh, I’m really flexible. Just call me Gumby.”
“Can I be Pokey?”
My next words were, “Oh my god I’m gonna be fired.”
Fortunately everyone in the room thought it was funny, including her.
My sister as a child needed to give a urine sample for a suspected UTI. My mom went into the washroom with her and after getting the sample, my mom used the facilities herself.
Bac in the waiting room my sister piped up, “How come yours has fur and mine doesn’t?”
I was out with some friends when I met a guy (a friend’s friend) who not only says things that are innappropriate all the time, but doesn’t see anything wrong with it.
He said to Eric, “Check out the tits on that bitch.”
Eric quietly informed him that the “bitch” was Eric’s wife.
The idiot, unfazed, replied, “You muct like throwing it into her huh?”
It took two guys to hold Eric back from pounding the twerp.
When my brother was in college, a girl on campus was held down and had a swastika carved on her stomach. Turns out she was dating a Jewish guy. So my brother is talking to someone who brings this up, and how horrible it is, etc. and my brother says, “Well, that’s what she gets for dating a kike.”
He meant it to be ironic and sarcastic and funny, and well … it wasn’t. He brought it up recently as the worst thing that’s ever come out of his mouth. I almost didn’t believe him when he told the story; he’s a very kind man.
Mr. Stuff escaped by the skin of his teeth once. There was a man, Mr. Jones, in our very small town who died in a nearby hotel room, with his pants on funny and his shoes on the wrong feet (well, the details escape me, but you get the idea). Mr. Stuff’s cousin was with him at the time, information which is not officially known, but is miraculously known by everyone.
So Mr. Stuff goes to the local greasy spoon a month later, and there’s a new, 45-ish year old waitress. He asks her name, and she says, “Sally Jones.” He was going to say, “Oh, hey! Are you related to that guy my cousin boinked to death?” Turns out that yes, Sally was the new widow. :eek: He still can’t explain why it never came out of his mouth, but is eternally thankful that it didn’t.
I feel pretty stupid, but I don’t understand what was embarassing here. Could someone (gently) enlighten me?
I was at a recorder practice one night; we were working on learning music for an upcoming dance seminar. Somebody suggested that they could simplify things by having more dances use the same music; my idiot hind-brain slapped together the names of the last three pieces we had practice (Trenchmore, Female Sailor, and Hole in the Wall), and I said, "Sure, then we could just play “Trench the Female Hole.”
The five women in the group: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:
I do not see the problem with what was said because of the context, but a “Pearl Necklass” has long been a euphemism for having beads of male ejaculation on your face and neck.
Jim
I’ve had situations like that, where I said something that I consciously realized MIGHT be taken as offensive, but thought that it was so obvious that it was potentially offensive, and so obvious that I wouldn’t say something offensive, that clearly everyone would realize that I had gone one level further and was only referring to the potential offensiveness, not being offensive. But it didn’t work out.
However, my best inappropriate comment story is this one
Similar to **Stuff’s ** husband, I have been spared a few times.
Once I had just transferred to a new department and was being trained by a new coworker in kind of a buddy system. She was scheduled to give a little professional development class that day. Our jobs were in HR, but she had been a H.S. English teacher many years ago before joining the company, so she was giving a grammar and writing refresher. She invited me to attend the class. I honestly opened my mouth to say “Well, that seems like pretty much a waste of my time, since I just finished a master’s in English.” Thankfully, what came out of my mouth was “sure, that sounds like it’ll be a nice change of pace.” I could feel my mouth forming words out of sync with the signals from my brain, very strange.
Also, after my FIL’s funeral there was a get together of a bunch of folks from the small town where he lived and my husband grew up. A woman came up to us and said hi and chatted a bit with my husband about high school reunion they had attended the previous year. I came this close to saying “Yeah, he told me all about that weekend. Who *was * that chick who kept throwing herself at him?” I’ll let you figure out why that would have been awkward …
My high school was in a small rural town and was largely populated by small town stereotypes: close-minded, cliqueish, disdain for book-learnin’, etc. In contrast, my band director was a gentle, soft-spoken, Birkenstock-wearing type of a guy. As a shy and bookish girl, I felt (wrongly, as you’ll see) that we understood each other better than most teachers and students. We were almost like friends, I thought, and friends tease each other sometimes, right? I warn you now: disaster lurks at the end of this line of reasoning.
My senior year, some of us were all sitting around the band room after unloading the bus from some band trip or something–me, the director, and a couple other kids. We were good-naturedly pestering him for details about his upcoming wedding. He was a naturally reserved person, but that day had finally opened up to us a little about his plans.
He said something like, “We really want to make the ceremony something special, something unforgettable, something that people will talk about and remember.”
So I teased: “How about a public consummation?”
Him: :mad: :mad: :mad:
Me: 
Other kids: What’s a consummation?
Him: :mad:
As a side note, I can’t prove this incident is why I didn’t get the John Phillip Sousa Award that year, but I sure had it locked up before that day.
Oh. Okay. Thanks.
slinks off, for the second time in less than 24 hours, to her Sheltered Little Small Town Life
I would like to tell mine, although it’s a matter of private, not public, inappropriateness.
My wife and I were watching A Beautiful Mind on DVD. We are at the scene in the bar where Russell Crowe is explaining how the group of women are putting the most attractive of them forward to be the ‘leader,’ thus increasing all their chances of social contact (or some such).
Without thinking, I turned to my wife and asked “So you and your friends, who did you guys put out front?” Then I realized what I had implied and just stared straight ahead. After 10 minutes or so without any indication that she had taken it the ‘wrong’ way, I felt I could breath again…
I was sitting at the bar one night with some friends when another friend, who’s in a wheelchair, came in. As he made his way over to our table, he was saying something and waved his arms around for emphasis, accidentally hitting a lady in the butt. So what comes out of my mouth? “Sheesh, do you always walk … er, go around grabbing ladies’ asses?” Whoops.
This is probably the worst one I’ve ever witnessed:
A family aquaintance, let’s call him “Fred”, was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer and was told he had four months to live. A year later he was still alive and well enough to show up for occasional social events, although it was clear he wouldn’t be with us long. He showed up for my sister’s wedding, and I clearly remember seeing him walk through the door and thinking “Wow, Fred’s still alive?”
And within ten seconds, my moron brother walks up to Fred and says “Fred! You still alive?” Fred gave my brother frown and turned away.
Then my moron brother goes to each of his siblings one by one (and there are many of us) and proudly says “Did you hear what I said to Fred? I said ‘You still alive?’ Har har har.”
To make it worse, my moron brother is (and was at the time) a Doctor.