Day after day we all see TMI threads on this board, and, frankly, I usually open them up because, well, I’m a perv. But that’s OK, because I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, so it isn’t creepy.
What TMI situations have you been in real life? And is there anything we can do about this?
I’ll go first. My wife and I were visiting friends last weekend. Our friend X is pregnant. She and my wife were discussing the pregnancy while I was sitting nearby. Friend X says “Yeah, I have to go in for an intervaginal ultrasound on Monday. I hate those things. I mean, it hurts … they use both hands.” :eek:
My co-workers seem to need to tell me when they’re having not only bad cramps but heavy flow. Phrases like “bleeding like a stuck pig” and “gusher” are sometimes uttered. I cannot fathom what satisfaction is derived from sharing this information.
I used to answer the telephone switchboard at my college and would get calls from students and employeescalling in sick to work or classes.
I would jot down the messages to whomever, but quit at the ammount of crap they have loosly expelled or the color of the pus oozing from their…
never mind, I hated working right before lunch.
I’m a mom of four. The phrase “TMI” may as well not exist, for me. When I say very little bothers me, well…I mean it. I can hear about just about anything from menstrual cramps to graphic descriptions of a surgery or autopsy, and I rarely flinch.
However, dad has to pull the loose teeth and kill the bugs in the family. I can’t handle anything that has to do with teeth, or insects. ::shudder::
The threads on this board don’t bother me at all…usually. Unless they have to do with insects or teeth. Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t read them. I am usually drawn to them, knowing full well they’re going to flip me right out.
IRL, the TMI things aren’t really TMI to me…as long as nobody’s describing a visit to the dentist.
Or squishing a bug, and telling me about it. And for God’s sake, don’t ask me to: “C’mere!! Lookit the size of this cockroach!” [sub][sup]I am feeling faint just typing this.[/sub][/sup]
My senior year in high school, I went out to dinner with my parents for Valentine’s Day. It was a busy day, so they kept bringing out glasses of complimentary chapaigne. After about four, plus her glass of wine, my mom informed me that I “Come from a long line of gigglers.”
A little TMI, but it did help explain why my first blow job resulted in me laughing hysterically and my girlfriend stopping before we even started.
I’ve got a friend that’s got TONS of great stories that she shares with us on our regular Monday night Drink Nights. My favorite so far has to deal with an embarrassing situation where her sister ended up giving her a rectal exam after a rather terrifying scare. Her sister’s advice:
“Next time you and your girlfriend feel friskee, take it a little easy on the anal sex…”
