Lapsus Linguae

I love those moments when someone is having a discussion in their own head and decides to let you join partway through. Or when a person adds a good point to a conversation ten minutes after it happened. Or when someone decides that the regular order or content of a phrase isn't good enough, so they change things up just to see what happens. Unfortunately for those closest to me, this results in merciless laughter and induction of their innocent mix-ups into my healthy and often-publicly-reviewed memory storage.
It can be something as simple as "You're inkin your twinkin--" (courtesy of Blake, referring to the twinkie I had in my mouth), or "Hey, don't downgrade me." Bryan meant to ask that I stop making fun of him, but his misspeak was the proverbial gas on the proverbial fire. Another friend, Marian, once stated, "It would've been more fun if the whore crew was here." And Sarah told a Sunday School room full of children that the theme of that year's VBS was Wedgie Tales.
Then there was the time my grandma walked into the room and suddenly bent over, slapped her knee, and giggled, "cow farts!" And at a recent family gathering, as we sat around discussing the cute little rabbits that overran our campground, my sister-in-law Jenne announced, "I want to set them up in a choir and slap them."
My sister Jannaya was overheard saying that she wants to marry a stupid husband. My other sister, Courtney, informed our family at the supper table that her friend was having a growing sperm. But I think the most unfortunate target of my laughter is Mom. Over the years she's said some crazy things, made some crazy noises, and come up with the craziest insults. My personal favourite was directed at me in a card game: "Dreamhole." My feelings will never recover, especially from the hatred in her voice when she said it.
There is, however, one story that takes the cake. I think only half a dozen people knew about this one until I got ahold of it, and now everyone who knows Mom knows not to play Dutch Blitz with her; if she runs out of cards and can't think of the proper word, she'll yell out the f-bomb to stop the game.
I'm so glad I'm not on the same level as these misspeakers.