My life has recently been extraordinarily difficult and extravagantly painful, but at the moment my fingers are up to a small amount of typing, so here’s an odd mishearing to amuse you. This posting is way gay and attentive to male bodies, and there’s a photo (hunky rather than raunchy, but it does involve ostentatious shirtlessness featuring prominent six-packs), so it will not be to everyone’s taste.
In a Facebook short reel that came past me this morning — I’m in need of distractions from the pain — we see two gay guys (both hunks in swimsuits, though of two very different body types), with gay guy A interviewing gay guy B:
What’s a bedroom move that makes a man go crazy? Show me with your hands.
The scene:
A (on right) interviewing B about hot bedroom moves
Gay guy B makes testicle-stroking motions; they are both entertained.
All this is uncomplicated. Except that I misheard A’s question as:
What’s a bedroom move that makes a mango crazy?
Oh, you’re thinking, A treated man go as a single phonological unit, so that the [n] of man assimilated in place to the [g] of go, giving [mæŋgo] mango. But no; A clearly says [mæn.go] man go. There are no mangos anywhere in the context of the reel, and, unlike the eggplant emoji 🍆, the mango emoji 🥭 is not a phallic symbol (the mango symbolizes the head, not the penis). And I don’t recall any mention of mangos before I looked at the reel, nor any mango-musing on my part.
So my mishearing is mysterious, but, in its own way, wonderful. I now have fantasies about crazy mangos and mango craziness. While noting that there’s a Mango Crazy restaurant in Modesto CA and a Mango Crazy juice bar in Campbell CA (here in Santa Clara County!); and Crazy Mango Mexican candies (sour gumdrops and red pepper candies) and a Branfords Crazy Mango hot sauce.
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