It was sometime around 2002, before I enlisted. I was at the Fraternal Order of Eagles aerie in Wappapello, MO, with my mom and her then-husband. My mom was about halfway through her second Canadian Mist/Diet Coke when the new volunteer bartender came over and subjected us to some TMI.
Specifically, she told us about her bladder infection.
“My pee was brown, and there were these sticky white threads in it.”
Now, the color and content of somebody’s urine is something I don’t particularly care to hear about. Unless it’s glowing, keep it to yourself. And I certainly don’t want to hear of it from the woman who’s serving us drinks.
To my mother’s credit, she finished her drink and left a tip. Having worked quite a bit as a waitress and a bartender, she never skips a tip.
I just got one today. My (60 year old) mother had her hip replaced Tuesday. She called me this afternoon to tell me she was doing well, even better than expected. She then proceeded to tell me about her yeast infection. :eek: :eek: Fortunately, I managed to listen somewhat carefully and before I started gagging, she told me it was external but still… It is apparently all over her lower abdomen and pubic area although she didn’t explicitly say so. Mom and I have a very open relationship but dammit, this kind of thing is something to share with her daughter-in-law the R.N., not her oldest son.
She claims to be off the pain medication but that conversation made start wondering. This isn’t the sort of thing we often talk about. Oh, well, at least she’s doing well and should be out Tuesday.
It’s not gross or anything but just Wednesday my new boss was telling me (totally unprompted) the entire story of his custody battle with his ex-wife and how she’s poisoned the kids agaist him so there’s been a restraining order put out and now he’s got the kids in to see a psychiatrist because they’re still convinced that he’s threat. I don’t know what the real story is but that was waaaaaaay more information than I had any desire to know.
I have an exceptionally strong stomach, so there’s not much that can squick me out. But inkleberry’s mention recently of having a clitoral hood piercing torn out succeeded.
I can’t say there’s ever been a TMI story I didn’t like. However, seeing the calf born with two heads was pretty damned disgusting. Especially since it was born dead and it had to be pulled. Pulling a calf under normal circumstances is gross enough, but when it has two heads . . . beyond disgusting.
I wondered about that, but tried not to.
A button fails when the thread breaks, losing the button but preventing your shirt from being torn.
So, the engineer wonders, did the ring or flesh fail?
As an OB/GYN RN, I get TMI on a daily basis. At work, I expect it. They pay me for this. But this Wednesday, as I was eating breakfast in a cute little cafe alone, a girl sitting in the booth next to mine asked where I got my blouse. I told her and she ended up sliding into my booth across from me and detailing her current medical insurance problems ( Medi-Cal mix-up, missed appts with a doc I know…) then her personal boyfriend problems ( always late, doesn’t care…) And did I have a card so she could call me sometime? Gee, look at the time!
Do I have a friendly face?
I know the feeling. I must look very sympathetic because I have had women tell me all about their menstrual difficulties within a half hour of meeting me.
Really, I don’t mind. I just offer sympathy (“Ooh! Uh huh… uh huh… oy vey! sympathetic grimace Oh, don’t you hate it when it’s chunky!”)
There was a thread in MPSIMS about a year ago (? I’m pretty much just making that timeline up) and the thread title explained quite clearly that it contained “TM Freakin I” or something like that. I clicked on it anyhow, evidently being no smarter than the poofy cheerleader in a horror film who wanders into the path of the psycho.
I really don’t wish to say what the thread was about. I have heard ickier TMI, but not more deeply disturbing TMI. I actually had to avoid the board for a few days, or at least that forum, because everytime I looked, someone had added to the thread and bumped it up, and even just seeing it made my soul wince.
Neighbors of my family were like an aunt and uncle to us when we were growing up, we were so close. Last summer, when she was cleaning out her garage and I was chatting with her, she for some reason took me to her husband’s workshop next to the garage and pulled out a stack of hard-core porn magazines she found hidden there. Even the covers were explicit. I didn’t know what to say — I really didn’t want to know this about my neighbors — so all I could manage was a little joke that she could sell them on eBay. I then excused myself to go cut their lawn, which was why I was there. A few minutes later, she came to the front yard, with the stack of magazines in her arms. I shut off the mower, and she asked, in all seriousness, “Would you like these to sell on eBay?”
My worst may be quite recently, when somebody was describing a friend’s description of his wife’s C-section - evidently the lady in question is quite heavy, and while I’m fine with most description of birth ooginess, “and you could smell the fat burning!” turned my stomach a bit.
