***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every now and then, we have to go and see these things called doctors.

Wait! Don’t go! I promise this isn’t about healthcare!

(But by the end, you might wish it were.)

Ahem.

I had a simple physical scheduled last week. Unfortunately, it turned out to be an incredibly busy day at work, but appointments can take weeks to get at my doc, so I sacrificed my lunch hour and prayed it wouldn’t take much longer than that.

As I was rushing out of the office, I realized that although I’d had my morning coffee, I had NOT had my morning TCOB. There was no time, however- never enough time, Zack!!- so I mentally shrugged and raced to the doctor’s, hoping for the best.

By the time I was verifying my insurance at the front desk, I was dancin’. You know what I mean… the pee pee dance with clenched cheeks? Prairie doggin’ it? Turtle heading?

Yeah. That.

I did a jig while the desk clerk slowwwly processed my co-pay, and slumped into a chair in the waiting room to assess my options. Finally, I spotted the bathroom across the room…

Of course. A onesie.

Sigh.

I had a brief internal struggle, but my body quickly beat out my mind in the “over matter” battle. Trying to look casual, I sauntered over and nonchalantly closed the door behind me… and went into action.

A cool minute and a spritz of Lysol later, I emerged as calmly as I’d gone in, and innocently plopped back down in my chair, hoping to appear engrossed in the May 2007 edition of GQ.

Approximately 30 seconds later, a very proper and professional looking middle-aged man set down his coffee and headed for the restroom.

Say it with me, in “Legend of the Seeker“-style slow-mo:

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!

Alas, there was nothing to be done. As I waited anxiously for his inevitable departure and judgmental stare, I pondered escape routes and prayed for my name to be called.

And then, from the heavens above… a miracle. An elderly man got up and swung the bathroom door open before any of us spectators could say a word.

An exchange so uncomfortable I can’t quite put it into words ensued, as the flustered old man decided to hold the door open while he apologized profusely, rather than, um, CLOSING IT.

Somehow, I managed to hide my smile, but inside I did a happy dance of epic proportions. The last thing anyone would be thinking about now was what the girl in the cute purple dress had done in there. Upon the man’s departure, instead of me receiving the Judgy Eye? I gave him one of pitying sympathy…

And all was right with the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Classy in Philadelphia’s TMI Thursday- The Time I Had No Idea How He Got Naked

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who wins at restrooms forever (TMI Thursday)

Mary’s TMIT: The Most Shameful of Walks

Ella Unread’s TMI THURSDAY – SENIOR DOGS FART AND BURP

P’s TMI THURSDAY: THE FACE LICKER

confessor69’s TMI Thursday: Things You Should NEVER Do in Your Closet

Floreta’s Head Lice 

Heather’s TMI Thursday: A Different Kind of Pee Pee Dance

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Blister in the Sun

Torn’s TMI Thursday–Is that Pee?

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: Spice up the Marriage

Meleah’s Public Service Announcement – TMI Style

Bev’s TMI Thursday: Why I Don’t Drink Gin

Adam L’s TMI Thursday: The Joys of Running, Part V: I Forgot What?

Lisa’s Dear Mr. Echo

Cleveland Poet’s Tmi Thursday: The bj and the scab

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: in which i should have said nothing at all

Brainless’ TMI Thursday: This post is NOT politically correct

Kernut’s My First Brush With The Law

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple days ago, am email from a dear friend- who shall remain anonymous- popped up in my inbox with the ever so simple title, “TMI.”

Uh oh.

And, my friends… it did not disappoint.

So a couple of my friends are taking these weight loss/multi vitamin supplements that they absolutely swear by. I’m always skeptical of these things (for obvious reasons), but they talked my ear off for a good 20 minutes till I finally caved and said I’d try them and my friend gave me enough for 3 days.

Then came the warning. The first day you take them, they said, you’d have massive amounts of energy… and at 3PM on the dot, be near a bathroom. Trust us, your stomach will rumble and you will have seconds to get to a bathroom.

Ok, how bad can it be? Considering I’m not the most regular of people, I figured this might actually be a good thing for my digestive system.
 
The next day I take them in the morning, and lo and behold my appetite is diminished and I have a lot of energy, and as predicted at 3PM my stomach started rumbling. I ran to the bathroom and took one of the most massive and loudest poops of my life. I mean I was in that bathroom for at least 30 minutes.
 
The second day, I took them again, and again at 3PM big poo, but less… intense.. than the day before.
 
The next day was a Monday. I was a bit concerned about having to poo at work, but my hall is pretty quiet so I figured there was no fear. At 2:45 my stomach starts to rumble. I was in the middle of something urgent and started to get concerned but I made it to the bathroom. I get there, run to the last stall and, thankfully, I’m alone. You never realize how loud a poop is until you’re in an office bathroom praying no one comes in. I was almost done, and very quiet, when someone came in. She, whoever she was, takes the first stall and immediately starts farting and pooping simultaneously. The noises coming out of this woman (like the noises I was likely making not 2 days before) were worthy of a movie. Like the battleship scene in Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle.
 
I wasn’t finished, but I couldn’t just get up either. That’s when I realized because I’d been so quiet up till then she must’ve thought she was alone.
 
Then came the stand off.
 
We were both trying to hold it for several minutes waiting to see what the other would do. Considering I’d been there longer, I had the lead so I quickly finished my business and got up washed my hands and ran out of there as fast as I could without even glancing in her stall’s direction. 
 
So yeah, definitely TMI.

And, once I stopped laughing, my response…

Hahahaha!!!!!!!! Amazing! I had a stand off of my own today, actually, but nothing that drastic.

And I totally won.

But then I realized I was wearing ZEBRA flats, so if she so much as peeked… I’m done for.

Happy TMI Thursday, y’all. Don’t forget to check out my round up on DC Blogs today!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

That Kind of Girl guest posting on Rebel Mel’s: The Least Hygienic Hook-Up Ever (and how it made me momentarily internet-famous)

imerika’s TMI Thursday: The Night I Broke My Boyfriend’s Penis

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: My P-phone and how I lost it

Stephanie’s TMI Thursday: When Friends Share EVERYTHING!

Sebastian’s Why men pick their nose (an ‘exploratory’ video)

miss*H’s TMI Thursday: The one where my knickers got wet…

LivingWicked’s TMIThursday: Of COURSE You Are Hot.

Spleen’s TMI Thursday: NO frontal nudity! I promise.

Floreta’s How To Eat a Baby Duck Fetus

Adam L’s TMI Thursday: The Joys of Running Part III: The Black Badge of Courage

Wife & Blog’s TMI Thursday: My Monthly Cycles

Travis’ TMI Thursday: Yes I HAVE Almost Broken Both Legs While Masturbating.

Bev’s TMI Thursday: It’s Raining Men

Hey Smalls’ TMI Thursday: VOM

Just Linda’s Give Me ‘Pause (menopause, that is)

Heather’s TMI Thursday: Barf-O-Rama!

Cleveland Poet’s TMI THURSDAY: That’s not a urinal cake

Lisa’s TMI Thursday – Something in the Air

Kate’s TMI Thursday – Occupational Hazards

MJenks’ TMI Thursday: Mid-Morning Wood

Torn’s TMI Thursday

Pat’s TMI Thursday – The “Ins” and “Outs” of an Ultra Sound

The Sassy Seminarian’s TMI Thursday: Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go…tomorrow?

Sharky’s TMI Thursday: I hope my kids are cute.

Vittoria’s TMIT: I’m not pregnant!

confessor69’s TMI Thursday: When You Get the Job In Spite of Your Pee-Suit

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: Family Dinner

Amy’s TMI Thursday: Thongs vs. Panty Line

Cammy’s TMI Thursday: He Pushed my Head Down

Dominick Bonny’s TMI Thursday: Am I racist?

Jeney Peney’s TMI Thursday – Holy Crap

Sorry. The “aughts” was just such a great name. It’s going to be hard to let go.

Anyhoo. I think resolutions are for quitters, or something, so I’ll be doing these MY WAY.

Which is, of course, totes different from the way I ever do anything else.

(B, I can hear you laughing.)

My (Not-So-Resolution-y) Resolutions.

1. Start wearing more bling.

I’ve never been good at wearing accessories, be it of the sparkly/shiny, nail polishy, or badass hat/scarf/insert other French thing here. I HAVE them, it just never occurs to me to WEAR them. Matching is hard, yo. Most mornings I’m just trying to remember to wear a bra and some mascara, never mind make sure I have my brown watch on with my gold earrings, or whatevs. But I could probably stand to look a bit more, ahem, put together.

Either that, or start working from home and never, ever wear pants again.

God, option two sounds GREAT.

2. Call my sister more.

She’s pretty awesome. And she’s the only one I’ve got. And she gives me MAD SHIT when she calls me and I don’t answer and then email her back a month later with a link to some tardy cat video. I know, redic. Fine, woman. I will call you every damn day and ask you alllllllllll about your JOB SEARCH (holla? Anyone in Beantown hiring a genius, incredibly funny 23 year old?) and your LOVE LIFE and your BOWEL MOVEMENTS until you’re screening my calls because you don’t want your friends to hear me yelling about your stools. So there.

Love you mean it.

3. Never, ever, ever drink Firefly sweet tea vodka again.

No, really. NO, REALLY. I am still hungover from Saturday. That stuff rips me up. Firefly going in, FIRE coming out. Just sayin. *dies of death*

In fact, I think I may take January off from drinking, in honor of both shrinking my ass, and this awesome Scottish dude I used to work with in a Maggiano’s who always did it “just to make sure he still could”. I’m pretty sure Scottish dudes are wise, or something. Especially ones with as many awesome “this guyyyyyy!!!!!” jokes as he had.

4. FOUR? Whoa, whoa, whoa, little overachiever. Let’s take this slow. Mama’s still hungover, remember??

Happy New Year, lovers.

P.S. Did you vote for me yet in the 20SB Bootlegger Awards? You totally can. Til Sunday. I won’t even get mad. Swear.

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***Friends and foes! I’m taking a break from my own humiliations this week to bring you a TMI tale from one of my bloggy friends who is (rightfully) unwilling to put her name on this, but (fortunately) willing to share. Remember to always feel free to shoot me your anonymous stories of embarrassment and grossocity if you’re too chicken shit classy to post them on your own page!***

And away we go…

A while back, my new gung-ho athletic-y boyfriend decided that we should work out together. I thought it was a cute idea, so we headed to the gym and I followed him around following his routine, including a bazillion crunches, which I had not done in months years.  Wanting to keep up with him as much as possible, not to be an embarrassment, I *may* have forced myself through way more reps than I could handle.

The next morning, my stomach muscles were in raw and utter pain. The slightest sneeze or a giggle caused my to emit a guttural yelp of pain (which, shockingly enough, can be used to frighten away offending coworkers, I discovered). This went on for a couple days with no relief, until suddenly, I realized that though I’m a pretty regular, “poop-once-a-day” kinda gal, I had not done the dirty in over forty eight hours.

Perturbed but determined, I plopped down on the can at home, and PUSHED, alternating with Lamaze breathing.

Zip. Zilch. Nada, mis amigos.

It’s not that I didn’t have to “go”- hoo boy, did I ever.  But my abs were still so sore, I just didn’t have the strength to push. I was worried because I had a 10k the next morning, but what’s a girl to do?

The next day I headed to the race, and a few minutes before having to line up, my friend and I made our way to the porta-potties.  I went in, and realized that a Number Two was bearing down on me as well.  Since it had been a while, I figured I could do the 6 miles better if I just let go.  So, I pooped…  while hovering over the porta-potty toilet.  Turns out that after not going for so long things were surprisingly mushy (or maybe the burrito I had the day before was the culprit?).  My butt cheeks were not stretched out as I guess they get when you sit on a toilet, and before I could “stop”, I had the mush all over my crack (as this was my first time deucing in a porta-John, it never crossed my mind to pull the cheeks apart!).  This was not a little bit of poop, mind you… it was as though the poop went sightseeing up and down my butt crack and finally decided to get a time share.

So there I was, minutes before a race, inside a porta-pottie, with shit-smeared butt crack.  Thankfully, there was still plenty of toilet paper, but tragically, there was no hand sanitizer or WATER inside.  So trying to clean up my crack with dry toilet paper after having pooped mush was, ahem… difficult.  Inevitably, I got shit on my hands.  I tried wiping it off over and over, but it never ended, every time the toilet paper would come back as dirty as the first attempt.  I literally needed to hose my crack down to clean it properly, which was (obviously) a no go.

All this time, I was fully aware that my friend had been waiting for me in front of the porta-potties too, so I was under pressure.  It felt like hours, but eventually, I finally did what I could… but I knew that my crack wasn’t fully clean.  Looking at my hands, I couldn’t get the stain out of them either.

If only I could’ve run the race in this…

Defeated, I finally left the porta-potty and told my friend I had touched something in there and didn’t know what it was, but my hands were not getting clean. When she turned around, I took a sniff and my hand still stunk like shit.  I only hoped SHE couldn’t smell it…

To make matters worse, this was a biking and running race,  so I had to sit on a bike seat shortly after that for a looooong time.  It was only when we crossed a waist-deep creek, at the very end of the race, that I finally felt a little cleaner.

Because of the race, out to lunch, then horrible traffic that made my ride back twice as long, I only got home and was able to properly take a shower well after 5pm that day, 10 hours after basically shitting myself.

So, yeah… the boyfriend?

He works out alone now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

jenniferalaine’s tmi thursday: where’s the placenta?

Ex Hot Girl’s TMI Thursday: Puke isn’t sexy.

M’s TMIT: Fridge FAIL

BigSis’ TMI Thursday: That Which Cannot Be Unseen

Travis’ TMI Thursday: Yes, It Was That Big.

Late-Night Drama Queen’s TMI Thursday: Oh hey, Grizzly Adams.

Ginger Mandy’s TMI Thursday: Don’t wear your vagina around your neck.

Kirsten’s TMI Thursday #1

Mb’s Moving Pains

Daffy’s TMI THURSDAY – Pardon My Lady Parts

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: The itch that cannot be scratched

That Kind of Girl’s The Kind of Girl Who … has hair so greasy you can fry bacon in it (TMI Thursday)

Scarlet Begonias’ TMI Thursday: Because toilets don’t always flush

Insomniac Lolita’s Tmi Thursday : Gotta Love Underwear Models

shine’s TMI Thursday – There’s a time and a place

Antelope’s Yet another way that I am crazy

Ed’s TMI Thursday: I could fill your pool…..

Sebastian’s Secretly, when no one’s looking, I still practice my ballet

Erica Nicole’s TMI Thursday: Bet you didn’t know THIS could happen!

Tricia’s TMI Thursday: Going Mobile, or, Uh, Projectile

The Bare Essentials’ TMI Thursday – My toe hurts, not that one, the other one!

ClevelandPoet’s jimi tries his hand at TMI Thursday

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: Under The Wire!

Spleen’s TMI Thursday, snakes & genitalia, not recommended to mix

Ms. Terri’s What’s that ya say? I can’t hear you. I’ve got a thigh in my ear.

Phronk’s I Never Fart

emotional diva’s tmi thursday

Lee’s THE SELF FLUSHER IS A MONSTER

Living Wicked’s The Best Part of Waking Up

Sachi’s TMI Thursday: How Old Is Too Old To Pee Your Pants?

Amber Murphy’s (A Tame) TMI Thursday: I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend

Lisa’s “Rescued and Rerun: Vaginally Yours”

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All right, lovahs. Just an FYI… this one even makes ME want to barf in my corn flakes. If you have a weak stomach with bathroom stuff, skip.

Oh, and, um… if you were at my housewarming, you might want to skip, too.

Love you guys!

Okay! So, a few Fridays ago, B and I had our tame, quiet little wine and cheese “Welcome to Our New Abode” shindig, right? And it was all classy and lovely and there was definitely no piñatas or shotgunning of beers in a bathtub. That would be ridiculous… I’m a grown up, remember?

So, anyhoo, I had that day off from work, which was great for preparation purposes. I’d done all the shopping and cleaning and time was ticking down. All I had left to do was make two enormous pans of baked ziti, with the hopes that they would keep everyone from passing out before midnight.

(Shut up, ALL OF YOU. I made it until 12:15 before crashing out on Katierose’s sweet, sweet bosom.)

Anyboob.

I was about to head to the kitchen and get cracking, like any good domesticated woman, when I felt the distinct ass-rumblings of That Which Will Not Wait. Well, fine, right? For once I’m in my own home and not stuck at the office with my boss in the stall next to me, or walking home through my old shady neighborhood.

So I TCOB’d it, obvy, and flush the nasty down to the bowls of hell, where it hopefully landed on Chumbawumba’s head.

Wait, they’re not dead? Oh.

My statement stands.

Except it didn’t go down… it came swirling back up.

Like, AT MY FACE AND STUFF.

I stared in horror, mouth agape like the mouth breather on your morning bus commute. As it neared the top, I finally kicked into action and reached for the plunger…

That we didn’t have. Because we’d just moved in and all, and even though we had made approximately 15 trips to Target since for super important things like cat outfits and pot holders, apparently “items that will keep your apartment from overflowing with shit” just didn’t make the list.

By the grace of Chuck Norris, the water came to a slow and threatening stop just before the point of overflow. An orgasmic rush of relief washed over me, but the gravity of the situation remained apparent… I had an apartment with ONE CLOGGED TOILET… And 40 people were about to descend on the place to eat, drink and be merry.

I considered my options. Realistically, I was already behind schedule and there was no time to go hunting for a plunger. We hadn’t met any of the neighbors yet and giving them information about my bowel movements was not the way I wanted to start off. For once, I begged the cats to play in the toilet instead of pulling them away from it in horror, but they are wily creatures and would have none of it, choosing instead to mock me from their perch on the tub.

I knew what I had to do. I could see the wad of TP, drifting back and forth like a piece of icky seaweed.

I rolled up my sleeve, let out a whimper, took a deep breath, and reached into the belly of the beast.

YOIIIIIIIINK!!!!!

With an admissive groan of defeat, the beast gave way, and its innards quickly began draining away.

Too ashamed to even celebrate, I scrubbed my hands like I was a Soprano who’d just sent someone to sleep with the fishes.

And in a way… I had.

Other awesomely bad TMI Thursdays this week…

(Oh, and FYI? Next week I’m going to post a bunch that you’ve all sent to me but are too ashamed to post on your own site. So if you’ve got one, now’s the time! heylivitluvit at gmail dot com.)

jenniferalaine’s tmi thursday: the butterfly effect.

Mb’s Knock a little louder next time

Spleen’s TMI Thursday: nudity, body parts, fat, spleens, and vomit

the iNDefatigable mjenks’ TMI Thursday: Terrible Date POV

Insomniac Lolita’s TMI Thursday : Smell Test

Sebastian’s Sebby, international man of mystery… yeah baby, YEAH!

mylittlebecky’s teee eeem eeeeeeye! yeah, bitchezzzz

Travis’ TMI Thursday: Yes, I HAVE Checked Myself For A Hernia.

Cassie’s TMI Thursday: A weekend with the girls…

Ed’s TMI Thursday: Amy G’s First Time….

That Kind of Girl’s The Kind of Girl Who … gives up her seat car, but may smear you with bodily fluids in the process (a tiny dash of TMI Thursday)

Daffy’s TMI Thursday – Work It Girl

shine’s TMI Thursday – But she can’t use tampons…

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: A Fairy Tail ending

becky on Jill Pilgim’s becky is so good at back rubs that if jesus were to give back rubs he would have to take lessons from becky because she’s better than jesus at back rubs

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Strip Club Story

Big Sis’ TMI Thursday Nuggets

Ms. Terri’s Losing it (sort of)

Hillbilly Duhn’s My Panty & Super Hero Obsession – TMIT

Kendall’s TMI Thursday: Your Childhood? Ruined FOREVER

Just A Girl’s TMI Thursday: Again? You have to be fucking kidding me…

Nikolett’s TMI Thursday: Carbs, Carbs, Carbs

Jeney’s TMI Thursday – My First Period

verybadcat’s TMI Thursday: Grape Nuts Kitty Litter

Lucy’s TMI:Fast Food & Political Affairs

bing’s TMI Thursday: Drop it on the shelf

long red cape’s TMI Thursday: Things About Flatulence

The Bare Essentials’ TMI Thursday – Here’s the story, of a lovely lady, who refused to pop her boyfriends cyst with a pin.

Tricia’s TMI Thursday: Morning Snack

Karilynn’s TMI Thursday – I didn’t wake up

LEBOMBED1’s Popping my TMIT cherry….

Ex Hot Girl’s TMI Thursday: I’m gonna chew on your armpit.

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So. Every week, I think, “What the FUDGE am I gonna write this Thursday?! Surely I’ve run out of completely inappropriate and entirely vile slash humiliating stories by now!”

And then myself happens.

Thank the baby jeebus, for your sake.

Moving on!

Yesterday morning, I was on my way to your typical three hour Oh My God This Shit Is So Boring But Goddamn Will It Look Good On My Annual Review Seminar. Having already consumed my morning coffee, I was waiting for the elevator when I felt…

THE URGE.

Y’all know what I mean. That ohsospecial moment when your body’s bowls- your assloins, if you will- start churning in a way that lets you know the timer to The Morning Assplosion is ticking down, and ticking down FAST. The rumblings, if you will.

Knowing that I was going to be sitting in a room with twenty strangers for the better part of the morning, I opted to take care of biznas beforehand. Which was lucky for me, because as I opened the restroom door, my “you need to handle this situation down under” timer? Had DINGED. In a flash, I realized I had approximately 3.5 seconds to plant heiny-on-toilet before the sitch got hairy.

I scooted inside, dropped my notebook on the sink, unzipped as I swung open the door… and plopped down.

[insert abhorrid and inhumane sound effects here]

No, really… what happened next would have made any constipated geriatric insanely jealous. My Chipotle dinner was revisited in an incredibly, um… audible fashion, accompanied of course by my own beatboxing, entitled “Sounds of Intense Relief”. (I’m pretty sure it’s one of the CDs in those thingies at Target where you can listen to a dozen… you know, “Babbling Brook”, “Notes from the Rain Forest”, and “Sounds of Intense Relief While On The Pot”.)

Anytwaddle, after my last, weak little sigh, I reached over for the TPR…

And heard the unmistakable scrape of Other Shoes across the floor.

My heart stopped. As did my breathing. While I desperately tried to will myself invisible, I did the awkward “My Ass Is Totally Hanging Out On The Toilet But I’m Still Prairie-Doggin My Head Downward To See WHO THE FUCK’S SHOES Are In The Stall Next To Me.”

And then I saw them… the unmistakable bad ass pumps of my department head. She’s the only other person (besides me) I’ve seen rock snakeskin stilettos. Let’s just say there was absolutely no question about who was squatting two feet away from the atrocity I’d just committed.

So, I did what any normal person would do.

I camped. The fuck. OUT.

I sat there in silence, perhaps shivering a bit, until she had tinkled, wiped, flushed, exited, washed, dried, primped, and LEFT.

When I heard that door swing closed, only then did I resume breathing. She knew something akin to the Ass Holocaust had been committed here, but she didn’t know I was the Hitler.

SAAAAAAAAAAAFE!

At long last, I flushed and walked to the sink, a woman unexpectedly pardoned from Death Row. I smiled triumphantly at my mischievous reflection while I washed up, and reached smugly to grab my notebook…

Only to realize the email with the seminar’s room number proudly sitting on top.

You know the kind from Outlook? That has the receiver’s WHOLE ENTIRE GODDAMN NAME printed in EXTRA LARGE FONT at the top left?

Yeah. That kind of email.

I don’t think there’s a FML out there big enough for this.

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Maxie’s TMI Thursday: Hole in Number Two

jenniferalaine’s tmi thursday: unexpected delivery

Sebastian’s Making love to my computer

mylittlebecky’s exclamation point (tmit)

spleen’s TMI Thursday: I ate bugs.

BigSis’ TMI Thursday: My Cervix

Daffy’s TMI Thursday -Got Peas?

Sarah’s TMI Thursday: Excuse you?

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Stressed

The Bare Essentials’ TMI Thursday…Ass Candy

RachelSmiles’ TMI Thursday: roommates share more than apartments

M’s TMI Thursday? – Disaster Waiting to Happen

Scarlet Begonias’ TMI Thursday: Would you like relish with that hot dog?

the iNDefatigable mjenks’ TMI Thursday: Car Jacking

Ed’s TMI Thursday: I see your sword isn’t as big as mine…

Olga’s TMI Thursday—I Wet My Pants

shine’s Violence UnSilenced

Narm’s TMI Thursday – Steam Bath

Hillbilly Duhn’s TMI – Put your right boob in…

Travis’ TMI Thursday: Yes, I HAVE Stolen K-Mart Ads…

Big Mama Cass’s Care for some sticky sex? TMI Thursday

The Love Goddess’ I DISCOVERED SHOWER WATER:TMI (NSFW)

Cheddar’s The One in Which There is Argyle

Mb’s So you want a TMI story you say?

Tabitha’s TMI Thursday: My love-hate relationship with the O-word.

Tricia’s TMI Thursday: Bathrooms are Revolting Places

Carissa’s TMI Thursday. I’m really scared of Toxic Shock

Lucy’s TMI:Thursday: Old Lady on Campus

Insomniac Lolita’s TMI Thursday : How Do You Like Your Convertible?

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Mama Bear, just a heads up? You should really, REALLY skip Thursdays. And don’t ever click that TMI Thursday button. For reals. I say this for your sake… not mine.

The scenario: LiLu spends last Friday at home on her couch all day.

Warning: This is what happens when you g-chat with me. Sorry for making you relive this, DC Princess…

Don’t worry… I feel better now. In fact, I feel so much better that I broke my vow of not GUEST POSTING for Miss Elizabeth Marie (a friend in need and all that crap…) Check it out here.

Happy TMI Thursday!!

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Pilgrim Jill’s Its Stuff Like This That Will Forever Change Your Opinion of Vaginas

Maxie’s TMI Thursday: Why Is That In There

Wicked Courtni’s TMIThursday: A Vat of … Vomit?

PinkNic’s Contains Adult Content!

DC Princess’ TMI Thursday: Mr. Stumpy

shine’s TMI Thursday – Now I can cross threesome off my list

Taylor’s TMI Thursday: Sex Dreams

Zan’s TMI Thursday: Belly Bloopers

jenniferalaine’s tmi thursday: the dirtiest clean.

mylittlebecky’s weeeeeeeeeeeeee! (tmit)

Big Sis’ TMI Thursday: Wild and Kinky Sex?

Cassie’s TMI Thursday: A Puking Story

iNDefatigable mjenks’ TMI Thursday: My First Time

Stephanie’s TMI Thursday

Sean’s TMI Thursday: New Dishwasher

Racquel Valencia’s TMI Thursday: When The Moon Hits Your Eye With A Big UTI…

Random Musings’ TMI Thursday: Why Aren’t We Friends???

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: don’t sweat it

JFo’s TMI Thursday: Useless Superpower

Jeff’s Big Steps

Vittoria’s TMI Thursday: there’s a reason they’re named after Stong Island

Colby’s TMI Thursday: My body is rejecting its host

bing’s TMI Thursday: What goes down, may come up

verybadcat’s TMI Thursday: In Which I Discover FWB

shine’s TMI Thursday – Sometimes it just ain’t pretty

spleeness’ TMI Thursday: a bunch of old diary entries

Lisa’s TMI Thursday: Piggy button edition.

Lucy’s TMI: Thursday: My First Cellphone, My Mother and a Wine Tasting.

Alice’s TMI Thursday – thanks, textsfromlastnight.com!

ikss’ pre-coitus interruptus maximus irritatingus

Lindsay’s TMI Thursday: *chuckle chuckle chuckle RUN*

brian b’s TMI Thursday #1: I Walked Alone

(***Pssst, hey… have you updated my feed in your reader yet?***)

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link (FYI- link has changed a bit!), so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

FYI The text box html code has been fixed! Sorry about that…

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday"></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

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While walking home from brunch with B’s parents a few weeks ago…

(Well, correction. We had brunch with them, but they were NOT with us on the walk home. This is key.)

We also had a LOT of coffee.

(Also key.)

5 blocks from home:

4 blocks from home:

3 blocks from home:

An entire fleet of porta-potties is driven by us on flatbeds as we wait to cross the street.

Taylor’s TMI Thursday: This is why I don’t give road head

Housekeeping: As you may know, I am now at Wordpress! While my url will still be http://livitluvit.com, the one problem is that if you subscribe to my posts via Google Reader or whatever, they ain’t going to show up no more.

So let’s fix that, here and now. Simply click the button below to subscribe to my NEW home via your Google or other favorite reader… thanks, lovies!

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There was a time when I thought I might want to be an event planner.

And, of course, anyone I mentioned this to immediately asked one question…

“Are you detail oriented?”

“Sure!” I always replied. I just kind of assumed that being able to run a zillion tasks in your head and the accomplish them at once (i.e., being a bartender/waitress) was pretty much the same thing.

It ain’t.

Years later, after working in fields other than food service, I have realized that I am, quite possibly, the LEAST detail-oriented person on the planet.

In the past month alone, I have made approximately 183 conflicting plans with friends and family, some of which involved very important things like Planned Trips Out of Town and B’s Parents Coming to Visit. It’s become a running joke among my besties.

And by “joke” I mean, they’ve sort of wanted to kill me a lot. Hardee har…

Sometimes I forget to WIPE, for chrissakes. (Okay, kidding. But I HAVE forgotten to flush at a few key moments… Can’t you just smell a TMIT?)

I am 25 years old, and I am already so absent-minded, if I was 80 they’d put me in a home.

And, yes, to my credit, I can do a thousand things at once… but I’ll do them completely out of order, and probably forget at least one of them.

But, here’s the thing. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and, well…

I’m okay with it.

Sometimes it’s definitely annoying, like when I take the garbage and let the door close behind me and am totally wearing booty shorts and no bra because it’s my day off and SHIT now I have to ring the neighbors’ doorbells and pray someone is home to let me in…

And of course it’s the totally straight and awkward guy from downstairs, not the charming gay guy from UPSTAIRS, who would just be all “Oh, aren’t you a hot mess!” and not try to score a peek at my blouse bunnies.

*Deep breath* So, yeah, even though stuff like that is irritating, I’m cool with it. Because I’d rather be a little scatterbrained and able to laugh at my crazy ass self, than be totally organized and pinchy-faced when things don’t go according to plan, or, yanno, so anal-retentive that I poop diamonds.

(I’ll take the diamonds, though. Sans poop, if possible, but whatevs.)

Besides, if I had my shit together… well, this blog wouldn’t be very entertaining, now, would it?

Yeah, that’s it… I’m doing it for you! I am such a giver.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Now, has anyone seen my sunglasses?

(Hey, ladies, did you enter my giveaway for an enormous purple sex toy yet? No? You have til tonight- click here! (I typed ‘lick’ the first time I wrote that. Snort.)

This Friday, I travel home to the great state of Massachusetts.

Ask me why.

(Why, LiLu?)

My baby sister is gradu-matin’ from college.

My… BABY… sister… is GRADuating…

Nope. No matter how I say it, it still just is completely, totally and utterly unbelievable.

My sister is amazing. She gets Indie music, and I don’t even know if “indie” should be capitalized. She has style, when the best I can do is look at a mannequin and go “Yes” or “No”. She decided she didn’t need sex, drugs and bartending to experience life, whereas I… well, yeah.

And, most notably, she is about ten times funnier than me. Seriously, I can’t go out people watching with this girl because I will be physically unable to hide that I am laughing at them. Her commentary of life always has me holding my sides, begging for her to stop.

Last night I received an email that reminded me of A) just how much I freaking love her, and B) the fact that we are so, SO definitely sisters. Let me show you it… and let’s all reminisce just for a minute about how much we DON’T miss college dorm life, while we’re at it.

From: Lil Sis
Subject: Ouch, My Life

Oh. My. God.

So I left the library because it’s late enough that I can use the cluster office computer and actually have a little peace and quiet. As I’m walking back to the building, I think maybe first I’ll take a nice hot shower to relax. MMMmmm.

The exact moment I enter the bathroom, the troll from next door saunters on in for a niiiiiiiice poop.

This poop literally lasted for the entire duration of my shower.

And guess how many times she had to flush the toilet. I’ll tell you. This was not your run-of-the-mill one-flusher, nor an “ick my poop is stinky maybe I’ll add in a courtesy flush” two-flusher. Nor was this even a not-beyond-the-realm-of-imagination-for-those-with-intestinal-disorders “oh my god that burrito is disagreeing with me on a deep and personal level” three-flusher.

She had to flush the toilet FIVE. TIMES.

The industrial-grade, intended to service thousands of college students for decades upon decades toilet could only handle one-FIFTH of that poop at a time.

And it smelled like it.

I am so glad I took that nice satisying, cleansing shower.

From: Big Sis
Subject: Re: Ouch, My Life

Please, PLEASE tell me I can post this. Yanno, after the tears stop streaming down my face from laughing.

From: Lil Sis
Subject: Re: Re: Ouch, My Life

The world needs to know. (Scrubs body frantically.) I want everyone to know. I WISH you had heard the death-gurgle that poor toilet made for flush #3. Curiously enough, it seemed to get a second wind by numero four and was surprisingly violent in its attempts to purge. By the end, which is to say the FIFTH. FLUSH I can only assume her foul ass sewage had slowed because it was back to normal. I think the worst part though is that there are two toilets in our bathroom and I have no idea which one I should NEVER USE AGAIN.

I cannot wait to go home this weekend. I fucking love you, baby sis.

Even if you are old as hell now. ZING!

(Joke’s on me, I spose, since I’ll always be older… oops.)

P.S. Please, PLEASE do something with that Journalism degree. The world needs you. I could probably put in a good word with Stephen Colbert. We’re tight now.

All right, if everyone’s done judging me for yesterday’s TMI Thursday (I keed, I keed), let’s move on, shall we?

It’s my Friday off and my girls and I did it up right at Wonderland last night, so you all know what that means… it’s time for The Shiz My Boyfriend Says!

Here’s some precious little nuggets from the last couple weeks…

If you read yesterday, you know I’ve been a little “irregular” lately…

B: (Calls to me in the bathroom) What do you want for dinner tonight?

LiLu: Don’t talk to me when I’m on the toilet! You know I don’t like that!

B: Baby, if I didn’t talk to you when you pooped, when would I talk to you??

Minutes later, on the couch, I walk over and straddle B…

B: Ahhh! You’re sitting on me and you’re all poopsy!

While laying in bed one night…

B: Rub me! I rub you so much more than you rub me. You won’t even scratch my back for more than two seconds.

LiLu: I hate getting skin under my fingernails! It’s gross.

B: But THEN, if I ever murder you, my skin cells will be under your nails and they’ll catch me! Win!

LiLu: Oh, FINE. But only for the autopsy.

On gchat:

B: east bound and down has been renewed for a 2nd season
praise be to baby jesus
i’m so happy i’m going to finger you with my penis tonight!

Seeing that he took my laundry out of the dryer and threw it on my dresser:

LiLu: Asshat.

B: Cuntlicker.

LiLu: You WISH.

B: I do wish. (Contemplating…) Well, maybe not full-time. That would suck. Maybe part-time, like a hobby.

LiLu: Like instead of blogging? You wish I ate pussy?

B: No, you blog every day. That’s too much. Maybe as often as you do laundry.

LiLu: Once a month?

B: Sure. (Looks down) Maybe as often as you wear two matching socks.

LiLu: That’s never.

Literally five seconds ago:

B’s phone alarm goes off next to me in the living room, scaring the everlivingshit out of me. He strolls in from the bedroom, wearing a white T shirt… and nothing else.

LiLu: What the…?

B: My pants were too hot!

He turns, and strolls nonchalantly back to the bedroom. (Cute butt though.)

Oh, how I love this man.

A couple of sidenotes before you skip off to your merry weekends!

First off, if you’re coming out for Happy Hour tonight, see you there! If you’re not, your mother was a hampster and your father smelt of elderberries. If you’d LIKE to but you don’t know what the eff I’m talking about, email me at livitluvit at livitluvit dot com and we shall remedy that immediately.

Second, mucho mucho grande thanks to Maegan from …Love Maegan, Bon Don from “Who Throws a Cupcake? Honestly,” Muppet Soul, The Rambling Diva from C’est What??, and LUCKLYS!!! (I’M SORRY I FORGOT!!!) from how lucky we are for bestowing some kickass awards on me this week! These awesome ladies all ROCK MY WORLD (and not just cause they love me, snort), so go check ‘em out, stat.

Happy weekend, chucklefucks!

It’s lazy hungover Friday! And you all know what that means…

That I gagged a little bit when I brushed my teeth this morning.

Oh, no? That’s not what you were thinking? Well, okay, fine. I guess we’ll just move on… to another installment of The Shiz My Boyfriend Says! (He had some big-deal-thingy on the Hill this morning, so this can be my congratulations present to him when it goes well.) (Hopefully it goes well.) (And I’m not even sure if he likes these or not.)

Anyway! Here we go…

Contemplating one of the first weekends we spent together, watching all three seasons of Arrested Development…

B: Maybe we should have another AD marathon, like when we fell in love.

LiLu: Yeah! I let Fearless borrow Season 2 though…

B: You gave half our love away!?! How could you!

One morning in bed…

LiLu: Your breath smells like spoiled milk.

B: What??

LiLu: No, seriously. You just breathed out on me and I swear, spoiled milk.

B: Your FACE smells like goat asshole! (Mutters under breath) Goaty-ass bitch.

On the couch, B notices that I’m wearing a USMC shirt.

B: Marines? Where did that shirt come from?

LiLu: Ummm… (knowing very well it came from Parris Island where my HS boyfriend was at boot camp)… but it’s my most comfortable T-shirt!

B: You slut! Fine. I’m wearing UNDERWEAR that an ex-girlfriend gave me. After she wore them… AND pooped in them! I’m wearing someone else’s poop. THAT’S fucking intimate.

LiLu: My tummy hurts.

B: Fart it out.

LiLu: I’m trying…

B: Don’t push too hard… don’t poop the bed!

LiLu: Would you still love me?

B: A little less… but yes, I would still love you.

Later that day, walking home from the grocery store.

LiLu: *Burp* Do you love me less?

B: No, baby, I love you the same.

LiLu: But you’ll love me less if I poop the bed?

B: What? No, I won’t love you anymore if you poop the bed.

LiLu: But this morning you said you’d only love me a little less!

B: Nope, that’s a deal breaker. I’m changing my mind.

LiLu: There’s no take-backs!

B: If you poop the bed you’ll be out on your ear. Without a bed to poop in.

LiLu: Did you just say “out on your ear”? Who even says that?

B: Me. And old people.

Happy Friday, my little loveducks! Stick it to someone tonight:

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s! Just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory. Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…***

Now, you may remember that a couple weeks ago, B and I got so low on toilet paper that we were using the holiday napkins my mother had sent us for Christmas. And I would imagine you thought that was the lowest of the low.

Well, my friend, you would be wrong. Let me, Queen of All Things TMI, prove it to you…

Last Friday I was thrilled to have a day off from work to sit on the couch, catch up on your blogs, maybe even do some laundry. You know, go crazy. What I DIDN’T count on was the fact that there was no toilet paper, no paper towels, no holiday napkins in the HOUSE. There was simply not a square of disposable paper in the house. Not a square to spare.

I suppose a normal person might have put on those things called “pants” and walked the block to the corner Giant and, yanno, bought some. But if we know anything, it’s that I am not most people. I decided, since I was so cozy on the couch in my Snuggie and there was a marathon of Real Housewives on, that it could wait til later. (I am nothing if not retroactive, you see.)

But then, all of a sudden… things started a’movin. A’rumblin, if you will. And I knew running to the store was no longer an option, no matter how hard I clenched… the beast was COMING.

I danced around the kitchen, looking for something, anything! to use for wipeage. There was NOTHING. I even eyed the trash, thinking about the hardly-used last of the paper towels we’d had as napkins last night… but no. Even I am not that dirty, it seems.

I was out of time. I ran to the bathroom and let loose, and it was glorious. Panting for breath, I now finally HAD to deal with the problem at hand (or at butt, I suppose). Fortunately, all of my toiletries are within reach of the can, and I frantically scanned them for an answer.

Mascara… face wash… moisturizer… nothing with wiping capabilities! Until finally, my eyes fell on this…

That’s right, folks. CVS Cotton Rounds… a cottony inch of material with which to take off your makeup, remove your nail polish… but DEFINITELY not for wiping your ass.

I used about 15.

Don’t worry… they were Premium.

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On another EXTREMELY TMI note, I have been coerced via your comments and Twitters into showing you all my version of the Stanky Legg dance. Please, I am begging you… if you have any actual dance skillz, PLEASE look away, as you will undoubtedly find this to be the most offensive thing you have ever seen. And that includes the time you walked in on your grandparents doin’ it. (What? I can’t be the ONLY one.)

I can’t believe I’m showing you guys this. I might actually be embarrassed about something for the first time, ever. Oh well…

(Actual youtube link here.)

And THAT, my friends, is how you lose friends and alienate people. I mean dance.

Next up: Maxie’s Stanky Legg, which I have on video from the St. Paddy’s Day Shenanigans! BWP also admitted on Twitter that she has one as well… I say we all go harass her until she gets drunk and posts it too. Yanno, so I’m not the only idiot white girl trying to dance on the interwebbs.

Well, my friends, that was two very healthy doses of TMI. Now let’s see what y’all come up with!

Other awesomely bad TMI Thursdays this week…

Maxie over at BWP’s… TMI Thursday: The Guest Post

vazenchick’s TMI Thursday: To Tweeze or Not to Tweeze…

JFo’s The Manchild Incident: Blame It On The Alcohol

Racquel Valencia’s TMI Thursday: Keeping Body and Soul Together

Julie’s Are You Going to Be Around Your Place Tonight?

Patrick’s TMI Thursday: Beer, Bacon and Booty

Claire’s TMI Thursday: There’s a Name for This

Jo’s TMI Thursday: On Books and Poo

Liebchen’s TMI Thursday: Honey! I’m Home!

Sean’s TMI Thursday: My First Kiss

justjp’s Ring Toss

Shannon’s TMI Thursday: That Time I Fell Off a Barstool

Tabitha’s TMI Thursday: Tullamore DON’T

birthcontroljill’s TMI: A Letter from God

Lisa’s TMI Thursday: The Last of This Type of Tale

Just A Girl’s TMI Thursday: Like Digital Shorts, But With More Poop

JJ’s TMI Thursday: When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong

PorkStar’s TMI Thursday: Tickle My Elmo

Mb’s A Little TMI in the Office

The Pumpernickel’s TMI Thursday: The Drunken Sledding Incident

My newest blogcrush, The Vegetable Assassin’s Warning: Way TMI Thursday

Vittoria’s

"http://sempredamigella.blogspot.com/2009/03/tmi-thursday-why-ive-never-drank-andre.html">TMI Thursday: Why I’ve Never Drank Andre Again

Jaxie’s TMI Thursday

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular gravely feared TMI THURSDAYS…

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***Warning! If you don’t like bathroom humor, this ain’t for you, my friend.***

If you’ll recall, B and I spent last Friday on a train to North Carolina to celebrate my girlfriend’s 20-10th birthday. Though the ride down was not nearly as traumatic as the ride back, I did encounter a small problem as a result of us celebrating our 3 day weekend with cheap vodka the previous evening. (Apparently I have a habit of getting really drunk before boarding trains to Carolina. Someday I will learn… or maybe, I’ll just keep pretending to be pregnant.)

Anyhoosits, we were a couple hours into the ride when I felt the stirrings. The stirrings of, oh shit, I have ANGERED the stomach gods and they demand a sacrifice! The stirrings of, This Is Gonna Be Messy, No Matter How You Look At It. (That would be a great title for my memoirs someday, no?)

I learned over to B. “I HAVE TO DIARRHEA,” I whispered, only maybe I sort of stage whispered it because about five people turned around and looked at me with their panties in a bunch. I realized the next few hours were going to very uncomfortable… in more ways than one.

B laughed, because after all, he knows how I do. I sometimes think our relationship is based on trying to out-gross each other, but it hasn’t happened yet.

So we weighed my options. We were on a train, which is a veritable porta potty, only slightly worse because of the balancing act it required. Finally, I decided it was worth overlooking the gross factor and the chance of humiliating the crap out of myself in exchange for some tumultuous-bowel relief. I entered (with five pairs of eyes on my back), had my way with it, and got up to flush.

There, in the obscenely blue water of the swirling toilet, was my SmarTrip, i.e. Metro card. I sadly waved goodbye as it was washed away onto the traintracks of Boondock, Virginia. Two pounds lighter, I made my way back to B, victorious. I thought the fight was over!

But No.

Fast forward to that evening at my Carolina girl’s house. We were getting ready to head out for the night to show Chapel Hill how the old people party. (Hint: early.) All of a sudden I felt the angry rumblings again, and decided I could sneak in a quick trip to the b-room and then we’d all leave quickly with no one the wiser.

Once, um, inside, I realized that it was worse than I had anticipated and looked around frantically for some air freshener, a candle, Britney Spears’ Curious, WHATEVER. But there was nada. I looked under the bathroom sink, and all I could find was…

Pledge. Wood-cleaning, orange-smelling, Pledge.

So I did what any interesting slightly off kilter woman would do.

I Pledged the HELL out of her bathroom countertop. I scrubbed it good, all the time suffering in the wake of my… toil. I then emerged, guilty as hell, but hoping I had somewhat covered my tracks.

Moments later, to my horror, my Carolina girl ducked into the bathroom before I could stop her. B started laughing at my embarrassment, everyone looked at me, and the truth came out. When she exited, I asked meekly,

“So, did it smell like poop or orange?”

“Ummm,” she said thoughtfully, “Both.”

Thank the baby jeebus for good friends.

Other awesomely bad TMI Thursdays this week…

LBluca77’s TMI Thursday: My Underoos Used to Have Wonder Woman On Them

Brookem’s TMI Thursday: Wrong Number!

Maxie’s TMI Thursday: Girls Only Edition

Liebchen’s TMI Thursday: Why Jack and I Are Not Friends

Foggy Dew’s TMI Thursday: What the Rock is Cookin’

-jd’s TMI Thursday: On Kids Say the Darndest Things

I-66’s TMI Thursday: Bone Tugs-n-Comedy

Miss Scorpio’s Wait, Don’t Sit There

Georgia’s 14 Things You Didn’t Know You Wanted to Know About Me… And Probably Still Don’t.

Vittoria’s Vicky’s Gonna Get Some Booooootay. Maybe.

Jason’s TMI Fridays