Yep, That's Pretty Gross (or, TMI: The Next Iteration)

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
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I’ve had two recent gross moments. Neither is anywhere near as gross as some of the previous stories here, but they’re both a change of pace from the body functions gone wrong.

(By the way: women’s panties that have been worn, then eaten by a dog, then pooped out by the dog… have we finally found an item that, even on the internet, is not someone’s fetish object?)
Story #1:
Last week I showed up at the Y to play a match in my racquetball league. I opened up my trunk to get my racquetball stuff. As I was grabbing it, I noticed that there was an orange in my trunk. Why was there an orange in my trunk? I never put oranges in my trunk. I never buy oranges. I get my vitamin C from overpriced premium orange juice, as God intended. So this orange must have been there long enough that I had completely forgotten where it came from. And in fact, there was not just one orange, but several oranges. Which had been in my trunk, which presumably gets very hot during the day, for weeks or months. A few of them were still pretty solid, but one of them, as I was gingerly picking it up with only my racquetball glove for protection, had the consistency of a plastic baggie full of guacamole. And it had been sitting in a box of magic cards, some of which were now coated with congealed rotten orange gunk.

The capper is that I had just had a nice glass of orange juice 20 minutes or so earlier, so I still had the taste of orange in my mouth the whole time. Ech.
Story #2:
Sunday night, while I had an apartment full of guests playing games, the sewage line under my apartment decided to back up. Have you ever had your bathtub spontaneously fill itself up with raw sewage to a depth of 8 inches or so?

Not surprisingly, we quickly moved the game to a friend’s apartment. Few things are more relaxing, upon returning home from some late night card playing, than having to clean the goop left by raw sewage out of your tub.

(Note: the nice thing about raw sewage is that, given that it comes from people flushing toilets, at least it’s mostly water.)

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One day I was troubled by one of those tonsolith things. I was driving home from work, and the damn thing was driving me nuts. Wasn’t coming out on its own, so I finally drove into a parking lot to tackle this sucker.

I took a toothpick, blunted on end and moistened it with saliva to make it somewhat soft (I needed something fairly pointy to pry the tonsolith out but I didn’t want to gouge myself!) the proceeded to mine my right tonsil. At first I thought I got it because I got a tiny pebble out, but it turned out that I just broke the top part of a much larger piece off. Upon wiggling my tongue and doing other stuff with my throat to try to expose as much of it, I was able to get the toothpick underneath it and pry it out. The thing looked like a yellowish-white rock, the size of a pea. Mind you, this was lodged in my TONSIL for god knows how long. But judging from the smell I would presume very long. Because it smelled like feces. Exactly like feces. Like I had pried out a piece of poo out of my throat with a toothpick :eek:

About a month ago I had a persistant cough. I noticed much to my dismay that the force of the cough was sufficient to propel these stinky little leftovers out of my mouth at high velocity. Like a shotgun. A STINKY shotgun. I was talking with my best friend when suddenly I have a cough that I wasn’t able to cover my mouth in time. One of them flew out of my mouth and stuck to my friend’s arm :eek:

Later I think he got a rash from scrubbing that part of his arm compulsively with soap…still too dirty!

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My first (and last) Tequila esperience ended in my, staggering up from the outside to my apartment, wherein I puked in the shower, in the tub, in the sink full of dishes, and in and on the toilet.
My mother made me clean it all up the next morning.

Nothing worse than slogging your way though a bunch of dishes that have been soaking in tequila vomit all night.

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OK… Here is My TMI/gross stories for the club.

#1 The Puke Story
After working third shift one night, I leave work and pick up a friend, whom I had, plans with to go on an early morning fishing adventure with. I arrive at his house and as usual He’s not awake, much less ready, I pound on the door and wake his wife up. Her looking none to happy, gets the hubby up, He informs me his brother wants to go also. We leave to pick up said brother, another sleeping beauty, “WONDERFULL” I mutter to my self. Well buy the time these two are both awake and packed the sun is already breaking the horizon and my dreams of early morning trout are about out the window. I decide “the heck with it” and tell em they were to slow and after a night of work I could use a beer or two. They share an apprehensive glance between themselves and resign to my wishes (actually I gave them no choice).
Off to the local early morning watering hole we go. Well we started at sunrise, and I recall stumbling out of the bar to being blinded by the setting sun. Between the lack of sleep on my part, and the copious amount of shots bought for Me, I decide that my driving would be a bad idea, my friend starts to drive home, and I pass out. Some how they manage to get me home in one piece and leave me there passed out in the front seat of my truck. I’m awoken by My parents (I was 18 and still at home at the time) asking if I’m OK? There I am face down in a pile of puke that covered half my front seat and a good portion of the driver’s side floor of the truck. Greasy fried bar food, Taco Bell (from the prior nights dinner), and gallons of beer and liquor make a rather sticky, foul smelling mess after fermenting for several hours. I had to use a garden hose to clean out the truck, and I’m lucky I was sleeping face down or I’d probably be dead.

#2 The Dog Puke Story
One of above said Brothers, my 8-month-old Chessie pup, and myself go ice fishing one day. We were fishing for Pike, and Our preferred bait is Smelt, Smelt are an 8” or so oily, stinky little fish that’s used as a deadbait. After handling them it usually take 3-4 hand washings with dish soap to clean the smell off.
Well, We caught 2 pike and upon pulling them through the ice and extracting hooks the used smelt are retrieved but really rather shredded and unusable, they get tossed on the ice. My dog quickly snaps them up, now I don’t really WANT him to do this but figure ”EH, what’s the harm”, just no more licking me for the day. The day winds down and its time to go, We pull our lines (3 each) and toss the bait on the ice. You guessed it, dog snaps this all up also, and I wasn’t really paying attention to this otherwise I would have tried to stop him. Well he had been running around all day eating other things to I was soon to find out.
We all hop in the truck (same truck as above story no less) and start the hour drive home, down a county road, onto the hiway, then onto the freeway into town. My dogs sleeping in between us face towards me, head on my lap. Suddenly I hear the sounds of dry heaves coming from him (PANIC SETS IN HERE), he’s big enough and tired enough to not really have any where to go, and I’m on the freeway with some traffic and no place to pull over.
OMPH,OMPH, OMPH, SLPAAAAASH!!! I now have 8 chewed up, partially digested WARM stinking Smelt, along with some grass, bits of stick, bones from God only knows what, and what appeared to be some previous fisherman’s bait, now steaming warm and covering my lap. I’d have to guess his stomach holds about 2 gallons of nasty stuff.
I had to proceed home with no hope of cleaning or otherwise ridding myself of this horrid mess for another 15 miles or so. Windows down do clear the air, all the while its soaking into my overalls and then through the rest of my layers till in the end it felt like I pissed my pants. MAN I LOVE MY DOG!

I still have those friends, and that dog 10 years later, the truck however is long since gone.

Also, after reading some of the above stories, all I can say is I’m glad I’m not a woman, no offense intended.

The FACE (as in DOGFACE, My dogs nick name)

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ERRR?..that didnt post out like it looked in MS Word?:smack:

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Reason #4098
Why I am glad I have a penis

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Did you by any chance drink anything containing blue curacao? I had a college roomate who swore that whenever he drank anything with b.c. in it his, er, sample would be a blue-green color.

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My small TMI story? Okay, here goes…
2nd grade.I felt like shit that morning , but mom sent me to school anyway. lunch time comes, 30 seconds after seeing and smelling all that cheap food my stomach says “Thats it”. I raise my hand to ask for permission to go hurl, damn lunchlady never noticed m hand and you know what happened? THATS RIGHT!!!

I threw up twice my boddy weight of this brown fluid that looked alot like it should have come from the other end. ALL OVER THE TABLE!!! I threw up on my friends food, on my friends , on myself, on everything. Then, the same da,mn lunchlady wouldnt let me call my mom until every single drop of vomit was cleaned off my person, I had to go back to the bathroom to clean my face about 8 times until I could go home, in the mean time I had started dry heaving every time I moved. THIS IS HELL FOR A 7 YEAR OLD!!!

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Oooh, does that take me back…

I’m guessing I was six or seven years old m’self. A large breakfast of Frankenberry cereal, a stomach flu making the rounds of the school, and a school lunch makes for quite the mess.

Lunchtime, winter. We had those lunch tables with the little blue circle seats attached, bench style, 'member those? I’m sitting on my jacket, as recess is right after lunch. Specifically, I’d worn my heavy winter jacket from the classroom to the lunchroom, sat down, and then taken it off. Both sleeves are hanging free from either side of the seat.

Y’all know where this is headed, right?

Up comes the pink frothy mess, with virtually no warning. First blast hits the tray in front of me, which contains most of the damage. I turn to leave my seat, intending to bolt for the door, about twenty feet away, or so.

Of course the second blast leaves the launch pad just as I reach the nintey degree point, and, yep, right down the sleeve of my heavy, insulated, winter jacket.

A few more loaded heaves, and a fair number of dry but painful ones later, I’m on my way off to the nurse’s office, the bedlam of a mob of second or third grade gross-out victims receding behind me.

Does the nurse immediately call my mother, send me home, or even let me lie down (on my side, o’course) until someone can come and get me?

Nope. Much like Flowerchild’s lunchlady, she wants to know how I got the pink sugary yak in my coatsleeve.

“Did you try and cover your mouth, is that what happened?”

“No, I <urp> told you, I was <urp> sitting on my jacket at the lunch <urp> table, and when I <gack> turned to get up…”
Followed, at this point, by a couple more dry heaves.

And yet still, when I can speak again, we go around a couple more times about how I did this.
“So, did you try and cover your mouth with your jacket, is that how you did this?”

Lady, who gives a shit? I’m sick, I’m seven, I want my mother, and I wanna go home. Shut the fuck up about the jacket, and get on the damned phone already, ya halfwit.

What is it about (some) people that they just have to have a little more information? Call home and then give me the freakin’ third degree. Or better still, shut up and leave me alone.

And the jacket was a write-off, naturally. No amount of washing could quite get the funk out of the heavy inner lining.

Shit.

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Jesus. Seriously. You guys are turning my stomach.

Chicken Scratch - Seriously disgusting, that tapeworm and mouse bits story.

Incubus - one of the best “poo” lines ever: “Like I had pried out a piece of poo out of my throat with a toothpick.” Perhaps second only to “poo-poo on my nuts” from the “How do you wipe” thread.

I’ve got nothing for your people that comes close. Best I’ve got is this:

Both of my pinky fingers are a joint short in length. I have all of the joints in them, they are just unusually small and come up to the first knuckle crease (from my palm) of my 4th finger instead of up to the top one, like most people. I was washing my face in the shower one day and putting soap on my face. I moved my hands upward and a pinky went into each nostril and I gave myself a bloody nose. I need to keep better track of them.

Tibs.

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I was sitting on the toilet, wondering if I was actually gonna vomit, and when the reflex kicked in, I didn’t have time to get up and “pop the lid”. I just leaned over and tried to hold my hair out of the way.

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This should be a .sig…