You can get your mother enough flowers and custom hug-a-bunch bears to choke a Bed, Bath and Beyond, but all the aging coot really wants is to spend time with her precious little you.

So, when my gentle mom came from little ol' Tallahassee, Florida to visit the GR offices, I took it upon myself to share something with her that’s been eating up every free moment of my time: I gave her the gift of Grand Theft Auto IV. Can you hear the birds?

My mom's no gamer by any stretch of the imagination. The only thing I’ve seen her play for any length of time is Zuma and a slot machine. I’ll admit, my intention was to shock her into cardiac arrest - something Tom Green-ish, or dare I say, Bam Margera-esque, but wouldn’t you know it? The old bitch loved it! She was killing prostitutes, executing cops and ignoring story missions like a 12-year-old going through Adderall withdrawal.

Warning: Fierce Language and Digital Situations

Then, the woman went absolutely batshit. This demure dame who used to tuck me in at night turned salty-tongued sycophant, and I had to wrestle the controller away from her like a goddamned child. The stuff that came from her mouth? Good God. Some of the terms that flew from my mommy... I just can’t repeat here. All I can say is that I think they may’ve scarred my sister for life... and might've turned me off women all together. (Check back with me next Monday.)

Above: Mother enjoys a guilt-free lapdance

The tables were turned, and I was the one withholding the video games and scolding general naughtiness. I still hold true to the belief that games like GTA are not harmful to the vast majority of children in any way whatsoever. But women in their late fifties? Somebody might need to do a study... get Harvard on the phone!

May 9, 2008