58 Mother-in-Law Jokes: The 2003 “Finding Nemo & iTunes” Edition

In 2003, everyone was learning to “just keep swimming” while trying to organize their 99-cent digital songs. It was a year of animated adventures and the rise of the digital lifestyle. For the mother-in-law, this meant her “navigation skills” moved into the ocean and her ability to organize your life became as precise as an iTunes library—only with much more static.

The 2003 Top 10: The “Ocean & Organization” Classics

Finding Nemo: I told my mother-in-law she’s like the movie Finding Nemo. No matter how far away I try to hide, she always finds her way back to the living room.
The iTunes Store: I told my mother-in-law I’d buy her anything for 99 cents on iTunes. She asked if they sold “A Silence That Lasts Forever.”
The MySpace: My mother-in-law joined MySpace. She’s already in everyone’s “Top 8,” mostly because they’re too afraid to move her to the bottom.
The Terminator 3: We watched T3: Rise of the Machines. My mother-in-law said, “Finally, a movie about what happens when my son-in-law tries to use the toaster.”
The DVD Player: She asked if our DVD player has a “Skip Son-in-Law” feature for the home movies.
The Shark: Why is my mother-in-law like Bruce the shark from Finding Nemo? Because the second she smells dinner, she goes into a “frenzy” of criticism.
The 99 Cents: She thinks my value as a son-in-law is like an iTunes song—overpriced and likely to be skipped after 30 seconds.
The Camera Phone: She got a phone with a flash. Now she can blind me before she starts telling me I’m driving the wrong way.
The Return of the King: We saw the final Lord of the Rings. My mother-in-law said, “Three movies to get rid of one ring? I got rid of my first husband in twenty minutes.”
The Google (Part 4): She asked Google, “Why is my son-in-law so disappointing?” Google replied, “I have 4 million results, but we don’t have that much time.”

The Full 2003 Archive (Extended List)

The Playlist: She’s like a digital playlist on shuffle—you never know which old grievance is going to pop up next.
The Folder: She asked me to create a “Work” folder on the PC. I did. She put my resume in it and asked when I was going to use it.
The Cell Phone: Her ringtone is just the sound of someone tsk-tsking.
The Flat Screen: She says the TV is so thin it looks “undernourished,” just like my excuses for forgetting her birthday.
The Laptop: She thinks the “Esc” key is a direct line to her lawyer.
The E-mail Forward: She sent me a chain e-mail that said if I didn’t send it to 10 people, she’d stay for another week. I sent it to 5,000.
The Garden: She told the grass it was “growing without a plan.”
The Pager: She finally gave it up for a flip phone. Now she can “hang up with authority” by snapping it shut.
The Coffee: Her coffee is so strong it’s actually starting to melt the stir sticks.
The Sitcom: She says Two and a Half Men is about our house, and I’m the “half.”
The Cleaning: She brought a magnifying glass to the dinner table to inspect the “integrity of the silverware.”
The Wedding Video: She’s started “remastering” the wedding video into a silent horror film.
The Neighbor: She told the neighbor his hedges were “excessively emotional.”
The Airbag: She asked if the minivan has an “ejector seat” for when she’s had enough of my “scenic routes.”
The Internet Search: She searched for “How to trade a son-in-law for a bag of cashews.”
The Digital Photo: She says digital photos are “too fast.” She prefers the ones that take a week to develop, just like her anger.
The Library: She checked out a book on “The Art of Silence.” She returned it and said it was “too loud.”
The Mirror: She doesn’t use a mirror; she uses the reflection in my terrified eyes.
The Vacuum: She says the vacuum is “pretending to be busy.”
The Map: I bought her a GPS. The GPS quit after she tried to explain a “shortcut through 1974.”
The Chat Room: She’s the only person who can get a “Bot” to apologize.
The Supermarket: She tried to return a banana because it was “too enthusiastic.”
The Alarm Clock: She says my alarm clock is “audacious” for thinking I have somewhere important to go.
The Restaurant: She asked the waiter if the soup was “prepared with a sense of tradition or just a sense of duty.”
The Rain: She says the rain in 2003 is “too wet.”
The Diary: Her diary entry: “Day 4. The son-in-law still thinks he’s in charge of the remote. It’s adorable.”
The Phone: She’s the only person who can make “Press 1 for English” sound like an insult.
The Suitcase: Her luggage is so heavy it’s affecting the local tides.
The Pizza: She told the pizza guy that his crust was “spiritually bankrupt.”
The Thermostat: She says 72 degrees is “the temperature of a dying empire.”
The Bird: My parrot started saying “I’ve seen better.” He’s definitely her favorite.
The Exercise: She says her favorite yoga pose is “The Judging Cobra.”
The Window: She spends so much time at the window she’s practically a gargoyle.
The Ghost: She told a ghost its “translucency was a sign of a weak character.”
The Calculator: She used a calculator to prove I’ve spent 22% of the year yawning.
The Hat: Her Sunday hat is so big it’s being tracked by weather satellites.
The Story: She tells a story about her childhood that always proves I’m not qualified to boil water.
The Guest Room: She says the guest room curtains are “passive-aggressive.”
The Car Trip: We drove to the beach. She said the sand was “too unorganized.”
The New Year: She’s already making a list of “2004 Failures” for me.
The Cake: She baked a cake so hard I’m using it as a base for the new garden shed.
The Radio: She hates “Garage Rock.” She says, “If it was meant to be in a garage, why isn’t it cleaning it?”
The Tea: Her tea is so hot it’s actually a localized sun.
The Walk: When she walks through the park, the ducks form a line to complain to her.
The Postcard: She sent a postcard from a desert island. It said: “Peace at last. But the coconuts are judging me.”
The Camera: She thinks the “Self-Timer” on a camera is a way for it to “prepare to be disappointed.”
The Furniture: She told the bookshelf it was “lacking a clear narrative.”
The Final Word: She doesn’t just get the last word. She gets the copyright, the trademark, and the syndication rights.