***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…

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

{This here is a guest post from one of my ever so generous readers who couldn’t post it on her own blog, but knew I’d give it a good home… take it away, Kris!}

“I practice yoga, pretty much daily. I love it. It is so much of who I am and all that I wish to be.

But without getting all transcendentally enlightened on your collective asses this morning, I would like to tell you a little story about a particular yoga practice I had, many years ago. 

I was in my friend’s studio, taking her class, which I do weekly. During this class, we were doing inversions. Handstands, shoulder stands and headstands. Now, once we were up in headstand and comfortable enough, my teacher/friend encouraged us all to try moving our legs around, whilst standing on our heads.  Some girls crossed their legs, some went into full lotus, and some stayed just as they were. 

I decided to make a big ol’ V shape with my legs. Man, it felt great! I hung out like that for awhile, feeling the stretch and the challenge, taking in the pose and all that…. Then, naturally, as all the blood was in my body was now pooled into my face, rendering me as red-faced as Chef Ramsay when someone overcooks lamb chops, I figured I needed to come down out of it. Slowly, I brought my legs back together, lowered them down and came out of headstand, finally resting in child’s pose for a few seconds. 

Then I rolled over onto my back. That’s when it happened.  

I queefed. 

I queefed long and loud. I queefed like there was no tomorrow. My vagina did her finest impression of a waterlogged tuba. 

The fundamental difference between queefs and farts is this: You can totally hold in a fart. 

And everyone heard. One sly bitch even gave me the side eye and a smirk, letting me know that she knew it was no ordinary fart. 

I guess the ol’ Love Tunnel gasped for air during the pose.  

Suffice it to say, I don’t attempt that variation anymore….”

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

Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!! Oh wait… I just realized B and I are doing yoga tonight. Uh oh…

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Mary’s TMIT: Self Love

moooooog’s The Time I Went to a Gay Bar – (A TMI Thursday)

Imerika’s TMI Thursday: The Night I was a Stripper

That Kind of Girl’s A Plan B is NEVER an excuse for no Plan A (TMI Thursday guest post by TKOG’s Mom)

Heather’s TMI Thursday: The Pee Pee Dance

grilledcheeseandketchup’s TMI Thursday #3: I Am Not A Sex Toy

Aurora’s TMI: An Officer, not a Gentleman

miss*H’s TMI Thursday: The one where I missed the bin

Carissa Jade’s Guest Post–TMI Thursday: The Worst Hook-Up EVER

Wendy’s TMI Thursday: Lost in translation

Living Wicked’s TMIThursday: Rhymes With Perp.

Just Linda’s That toilet is judging me!!!

Spleen’s the box of hate. (TMI Thursday)

Adam L’s TMI Thursday: A Skin Condition That Will Really Grow On You

shine’s TMI Thursday – My Vagina is Grounded

Cleveland Poet’s TMI THURSDAY: Enter the Gob Knobbler

MJenks’ TMI Thursday: And Then She Did the Dishes

Bev’s TMI Thursday: Karma is a Bitch named Curtiss

schmittastic’s TMI Thursday: March Madness + Green Poop = Day after St. Patrick’s Day

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: A life lesson, one of many!

Tami G’s TMI Thursday.. all the “WTF mom!” embarassment you ever dreamed of…

BigSis’ TMI Thursday: Second Date Sex

Kathy’s TMI Thursday has made it to Everyday Bliss — PETA members and Rat phobics beware!

Just A Girl’s TMI Thursday: I wish I never had to write this one

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: dear tampax

P’s TMI THURSDAY: “SNOT” MUCH OF A TMI . . . BUT IT *IS* ABOUT SNOT!

Mirella McCracken’s Profiling the good, bad and ugly bloggers. Trashing other bloggers on a Thursday afternoon.

Insomniac Lolita’s TMI Thursday : Going Au Naturale

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: in which I ask rhetorical questions

City Girl’s Coke in my hoo-ha

Ellen’s Has someone gone TMI-crazy on you?

…was, undoubtedly, the “Jersey Shore Drinking Game”.

Let me ’splain.

Perhaps you’ve been living under a rock and don’t know about MTV’s newest reality television abomination. I’ll forgive you if you’ve been too busy watching Always Sunny, as they are on at the same time, but believe me when I say that you MUST find a way to watch this absolute trainwreck of bright orange, over-gelled…

Well, honestly, I can’t even describe it. Let me just show you…

Apologies for the ad at the beginning… but it’s worth it.

Okay. So, all of us fabulous people are hanging out at the Holiday Happy Hour last Friday (unbelievably fabulous time, FYI- thanks so much to everyone for coming out!!!), when suddenly, the two magic words that can bring any group of people together instantaneously are mentioned…

JERSEY. SHORE.

Within seconds, we’re swapping our favorite most vomit-inducing moments, arguing over who’s the worst person in the house, and ribbing on brad for even BEING from Jersey. The shame.

And then, it happened. The magical words fell from Patrick’s mouth, one by one…

“We should create a Jersey Shore drinking game!”

Lightbulbs LIT-RALLY appeared over each one of our heads, and the insanity commenced as we all started yelling over one another. Out of the plethora of ideas, we eventually settled on this very thoughtful and decidedly offensive-but-still-less-offensive-than-the-show-itself list.

I give you…

The “Jersey Shore” Drinking Game

While watching the show, you must DRINK when…

1.  Any time one of them says OR does a “fist pump”

2.  Any time a girl proclaims her pride for being a true “guidette”

3.  Whenever Mike refers to himself as “The Situation”

4.  Any time a guy slathers 25% of a bottle of gel on his head

5.  Whenever the utter importance of “PROTEIN” is mentioned, or a protein shake is consumed

6.  Any time someone brags about their spray tan, goes spray tanning, or just looks so orange that you are forced to look away from the television

7.  Anytime Sammi talks about how sweet she is, or refers to herself as “Sammi Sweetheart”

8.  Whenever someone refers to cheating on a significant other back home

9.  Any time someone in the house accidentally calls Snookie “Snickers”

10. Any time Ronnie uses the phrase “pound out” in reference to a woman

11. Any time Mike expresses insane jealousy over the fact that Ronnie is pounding out Sammi instead of him

12. Any time someone gets in the jacuzzi naked

Oh, man… I cannot WAIT for Thursday.

Update: Oh. Em. GEE.

I just found this, and HAD to add it…

You are WELCOME.

LivingWicked’s TMIThursday: Rock the Boat

Stephanie’s TMI Thursday: Who Wants To Do Lunch?

Just Playing Pretend’s TMI Thursday- Humpity Hump Hump

ikss’ memories…like the corners of my tiny, turquoise speedos

mylittlebecky’s awkwardness in and on vacation (tmit)

PinkNic’s TMI Thursday: One for the Tooth Fairy

Sebastian’s Pompom penis

Angela’s TMI Thursday: When My Mom Should Keep Her Mouth Shut

Jill Pilgrim’s Who Knew There Was Such A Large Market For Smurf Porn?

heischic’s A TMI- How To (For Men)

Jeff’s worst part of the best time

BigSis’ TMI Thursday: All the Cool Kids Are Doing It

Hillbilly Duhn’s TMI Thursday

justjp’s Don’t trust a sheep farmer or my Sister for that matter.

Long Red Cape’s TMI Thursday: My dog isn’t really a picky eater.

the iNDefatigable mjenks’ TMI Thursday: It Tastes Like…Victory!

Tiffani’s TMI Thursday…*Lickety Split*

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Not a man?

RachelSmiles’ TMI Thursday: Rant

Ms. Terri’s What’s worse than lobsters on your piano?

Insomniac Lolita’s My High School Ex is a Slut, so is My Ex-BFF

Lucy’s TMI: Thursday: TAME: Only Child Abuse

verybadcat’s TMI Thursday: Bare Jam

Tricia’s TMI Thursday

Tabitha’s TMI Thursday: Domestic violence?

Vittoria’s TMI Thursday: TRUE CONFESSIONS – I’m kinda gross

hisredhead’s TMI Thursday: Eww, Eww, Gross!!!!

Floreta’s TMI Thursday: Blocked

Somewhere in Between’s But I’m Allergic To Cheese!! (Otherwise Known As My Feeble Attempt At A TMI Thursday)

Mary’s Ladies, Edumacate Your Men

Ed’s TMI Thursdays and stuff………

The Love Goddess’ HOW I LOST MY VIRGINITY– A TMI MOMENT!

Scarlet Begonia’s TMI Thursday: When you gotta go, you gotta go

Stephanie’s TMI ThursFriday: Underwear Only

***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.***

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

One weekend when the girls were at my apartment for a playdate, we were having our normal gross talk comparing terrifying period tales, odd sexcapades, and the like. B was being a good sport and playing along, or at least not screaming in agony, which is pretty good for a guy.

Just as Maxie and I thought we’d reached the absolute pinnacle of grossocity… B suddenly looked over at our gaggle of girls from his safe zone of watching ESPN, and said THIS:

“That’s nothing.”

Wide-eyed, we turned and gazed at him, waiting with bated breath to hear what might be worse than reliving the variety of menstrual mishaps we’d experienced in our high school days.

He knew he had the room, and he milked it for a moment, looking each of us in the eye as the theme to Nickelodeon’s Are You Afraid of the Dark? began to play in the background. The TV suddenly went out, and the room grew ice cold as we huddled closer together- to keep the spirits away, of course.

“When I was in high school, I knew a boy…” B said in a hushed, dangerous voice. “He had a girlfriend that he was banging on the regular, which was a big deal in those days.”

We all nodded solemnly in acknowledgement.

“Well,” B knew he had us on the hook, and was enjoying every minute of it. “One day, we were all talking about whether or not we would have sex with a girl on her period. Some of us were for, some of us against… and then Steve spoke up…”

We nodded in unison. Who doesn’t know ‘that guy Steve’, after all? There’s one in every group.

“Steve told us that not only did they do it when Aunt Flo visited… he went DOWNTOWN when the crimson tide came in.”

“WHAT?!?!” We all jumped back, aghast! Never, never, never!

“And that’s not the best/worst part,” he whispered.

Surely there couldn’t be anything more horrible than THAT, we thought?

We were wrong.

“Before he dove into the Red Muff, he told us he would take two fingers on each hand… DIP them inside, like so-” He demonstrated in the air with a one-two punch- “And then streak them under his eyes, as he screamed,

‘WAR PAINT!!!’”

Step 2: Laugh at that sauce on your face!

Step 3: Let someone photograph that sauce on your face!

And that’s how you do WAR PAINT!

P.S. A word to the wise… DO NOT USE TOBASCO FOR THIS. A friend told me that it burns like the dickens.

Yeah, that’s right, dickens. Deal with it.

P.P.S. And by a friend, I mean me. No, really… I can still feel it.

Happy TMI Thursday! Don’t forget your war paint!

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Maxie’s TMI Thursday: Just Can’t Get There

cavy’s TMI thursday: where do they learn this stuff?

Foggy Dew’s TMI Thursday: 175 mph

Just Playing Pretend’s TMIT- We Found Whistles!

Sebastian’s The blowback 69

Zan’s TMI Thursday: I’m a Little Ashamed of This, But Not More Than HE Should Be

mylittlebecky’s going green (TMIT)

Jassie’s TMI Thursday- Way To Eat Your Face Off

BigSis’ TMI Thursday: Substitution, Please

Mb’s TMI: on cougars, kittens, and being bad in bed

ClaireMMD’s tmi thursday: puking with jesus

Cora

’s TMI Thursday: Gee, I Hope This Doesn’t Come Back To Haunt Me If I Ever Run For President….

Gladys’ Teenaged Embarrassment for TMI THURSDAY

WickedCourtni’s TMIThursday: SBDBJ

Nikki’s TMI Thursday: Pubic Humiliation

Just A Girl’s TMI Thursday: The Hits Just Keep Coming

Cheddar’s TMI Thursday: Don’t Step in That

(Originally posted as a guest post for a 20SB Blog Swap Day…)

Well, hello there! It’s 20SB BLOG SWAP DAY! Which is why you’re stuck here, reading me, LiLu of Livit, Luvit. But don’t worry, I plan on keeping y’all entertained.

You see, I have a little problem I’d like to share with y’all.

My darling and ever-patient boyfriend, B, and I have been very happy since we met last June, fell insanely in love in about two weeks, and were living together by the end of August in downtown Washington, DC. (I actually wrote about the night we met the day after it happened, which is kind of cool now looking back, if you want to read it here.)

Were (are) we crazy? Most definitely.

Has it been anything short of perfect? Absolutely not.

Okay, then, now we’re all up to speed. Glad to meetcha!

[pic]

Blissfully happy, right? Cutish, and all that? Sure. Whatevs. Not the point.

The point IS, while everything is basically hunky dory peach keen and all that, we do have one problem.

*Whispers*… You know… with THE SEX!!!

You see, my darling boy… well, he is a morning-sexer. He’s ready for a romp first thing in the morning NOMATTERWHAT. If we drank a bottle of tequila apiece the night before, it would not stop this man from trying to put his P in my V the very first moment he is conscious.

Which is flattering and all, it’s just, well…

NO.

My babymaker wants absolutely zero, as in NO PART OF a peen until she has had a few solid hours to adjust to the idea. In fact, she cannot imagine anything worse within the first hour of waking up (factoring in that I am mostly talking about the weekends here, which means I am usually HUNG over).

And I sympathize, I do… I understand that he usually wakes up, ahem, “ready to go”. (Gettit? GETTIT? I’m talking about MORNING WOOD! Tee hee!) But that doesn’t change the fact that Sexy Time generally, to me, sounds like the Worst Idea Ever In The Whole World until, oh, about noon. Then, all of a sudden, my mini-LiLu is all, “Hey, you know what’d be a good idea? That thing we do sometimes, you know, we’ll call it ‘dancing.’ Lemme get some of that.”

Which should be fine and dandy, right? Except by then, B has generally gotten into ESPNing or Xboxing and he’s all, “Whoa, where was this four hours ago? I’m not your sex monkey!” And I’m all “YES YOU ARE! Take off your pants!” But it’s too late and just like that, we’ve missed the precious window.

The Window of Sexin’.

Bet you didn’t see that coming.

So now we both watch the clock steadily on Saturdays and Sundays and joke about 12:30 as “the witching hour”…

If you text me round then on a weekend, you best be prepared to wait.

Cause, you know, we’re probably Having the Sex.

And now you know waaaay too much about us! Le awesome. So come over to my place, say, tomorrow for the infamous TMI Thursday, and share something about yourself!

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join me and the fast-growing harem of TMI-participators 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. If you want, leave it here in the comments! If you’re chicken, share someone else’s! Ah, the anonymity of the blogosphere… it’s a good thing. Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular gravely feared TMI THURSDAYS…

Without further ado, this week’s tale of TMI…

(See the TMIT archives here.)

I was 15 years old, and as we’ve established, the extent of my sexual prowess at that point was having had my mosquito bites tweaked once or twice. It was only September and my tender young heart was still recovering from a few days earlier when that son-of-a-bitch Justin Johnson broke up with me in front of my the ENTIRE school at my locker, while classes were changing (!!!) and of course, everyone saw. Ouch.

So, imagine my surprise when a senior, we’ll call him Skeevy McSkeeverson, took an interest in lil’o'me. Did I mention he was A SENIOR!!! (A senior who was a blatant degenerate, never got a driving license, or bathed that much…) but still! A senior! (Suck on THAT, Justin Johnson!)

Since I was still naive enough to read “dirty and skeevy” as “edgy and dangerous”, (if you’re curious, I finally caught on to the difference about 7 months ago… hi B!) I agreed to start “going out” with him. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that we could not simply be an item in name forever… eventually, I was going to have to show a little leg. Because that’s what the older boys expect, right? I’m 16. I don’t freaking know.

So one day, after weeks of making out at his even-skeevier friends’ house parties, I agree to “go to his house and ‘hang out’.” My father drove me (well, I drove there-hooray for learner’s permits!) to the veritable barn where he lived with his grandparents… (I can’t remember the story there, but I think we can all imagine that sad storyline, yes?) and DROPS ME OFF, none too happy about it, perhaps, but he still drove away… so I walked up to the house, heart pounding, and knocked.

“Hey, baby,” Skeevy McSkeeverson said. “Let me show you my CD collection.”

Okay, it might have been a LITTLE bit smoother than that… but not much. Honestly. I was petrified, but I followed him up to his room and we sat with legsalmosttouching for a few minutes while I was forced to listen to the “awesomeness’ of LFO’s “Summer Girls” and the like. This is how the skeevy woo, I guess?

Anyhoo, he quickly moves in for the kiss, and I think, “Okay, I can handle this… it’s not so bad, I guess.” (Ed. note: You have to remember here, I’m wasn’t even sure I actually LIKED this guy. But did I mention he was a Senior??)

But then the Heavy Petting starts. I am suddenly much more uncomfortable. The next thing I know, he’s sort of stroking my… area… and I quickly shift around to make it more difficult, because, um, I’M the only one who gets to touch my special-no-no-place. That’s why they call it that, right?

This guy looks me straight in the eye, whips it out, and says, “Will you give me a hand job?”

Now, let me be clear. I had never SEEN one of these before, other than a high-school textbook, or on one of those little clear plastic overhead-thingies they used to use to show a drawing to the whole class in health class. That was IT.

And a hand job?? I mean, I assumed that meant that it would require… doing something… to his… thing… with my hand… but again, that was the total extent of my knowledge. I was the older sister, people, and my mother is a lady. We had books strategically left around the house that told us where babies came from, but that was the extent of “The Talk.” (And in hindsight, thank GOD.)

“Ummm… sure…” I tried to seem all cool, and nonchalant. I was about as cool as hammer pants in 2001. (You know, too early to be considered ironic, too late to still be considered rad.)

So, I grabbed. And, um, I tried to move my hands… around it. You know Indian burns? Yeah, kinda like that.

I DIDN’T KNOW. NO ONE TOLD ME “UP AND DOWN”!

So, after he stopped laughing at me, he tried to teach me the rudimentary points of the infamous HJ. I don’t think it went very well, because he didn’t even try to get my shirt off. I guess Indian burn on your cock kills the moment, or something. Wuss.

Sigh. A couple weeks later I dumped him for a way-cooler junior. And let’s just say that when it came time for the first BJ? Me and the innerwebs had become very good friends, and I had nothing to be ashamed of.

Internet porn research! Making sex better since whenever Al Gore invented it.

Other awesomely bad TMI Thursdays this week:

LBluca77’s TMI Thursday: Now I Know How a Monkey Feels When They Slip On a Banana

LA Cochran’s TMI Thursday: “I’ll Be Loving You… Always…” -Leonard Cohen

Cyndy’s The FISH PEDICURE Comes to Aspen Hill

Miss Scorpio’s Was It Good?

FrancoBeans (AKA f.B)’s Body Blows

Charlotte Harris’ TMI Thursday: My Sharona

Brookem’s TMI Thursday: Wipeout

Liebchen’s TMI Thursday: Look Ma! No Hands!

VeryBadCat’s Of Bookshelves and Boobs

SaratogaJean’s TMI Thursday

FoggyDew’s TMI Thursday: Bet You Can’t Eat That

Maxie’s TMI Thursday: The One I’ve Told 1000 Times

Malnurtured Snay’s Sadly, Eating General Tso’s Chicken in DC Made My Ass Start Screaming For a Toilet Seat

Shannon’s This Is Why I Live Alone

-jd’s My First TMI Thursday Entry! The Di

ary of a Midnight Stealther

NotYourPlainJane’s TMI Thursday: What Not to Wear… Down There

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join me and the fast-growing harem of TMI-participators 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. If you want, leave it here in the comments! If you’re chicken, share someone else’s! Ah, the anonymity of the blogosphere… it’s a good thing.

Without further ado, this Thursday’s Tale of TMI…

(See the TMIT archives here.)

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

This winter came upon us fast and hard. (That’s what she said.) *Snort, chortle, compose self* But if I remember correctly, last year- though a more mild winter overall- still held a couple unbelievably cold, slap-yo-mama frigid, “OMG I can’t believe I didn’t call in sick today instead of braving this hell-hath-frozen-over” days of weather.

I remember one in particular all too well… because THIS happened.

I used to live in Dupont and walked about 25 minutes to work. It normally wasn’t a bad walk, but the problem was that the metro stations were positioned just far enough away that they made metroing in no way a plausible solution for traveling on days of inclement weather. Occasionally it was cat-and-dogging hard enough that I took a cab, but for the most part, I just had to grin and bear it.

On this very special day, I set out without realizing that for once, the temperature truly was below freezing. I believe it was around 29 degrees, to be precise. But the streets were clear of precipitation, so I bundled up in hat and scarf and mittens on a string, and began trotting down Connecticut Ave. I’m sure I was late, and as I said, it was damn cold, so I was walking FAST- I am a Masshole, after all. About 15 minutes into my walk, I was striding briskly passed the National Georgraphic building when I noticed an odd sensation.

Or rather, a lack of sensation…

I could not feel my vagina.

I kid you not, folks. From my upper thighs to my ovaries, there was just nothing. It felt like I had a black hole in the middle of my torso. The combination of the fast-walking friction and the uterus-numbing cold had literally MADE MY HOO-HOO GO NUMB. And let me tell you, folks… “losing” your vag? Is a very, very strange feeling.

Commuters were streaming around me on their way to work- some threw a quizzical look at the stricken-faced girl on M Street, trying surreptitiously to feel (without actually feeling) where her naughty bits had run off to. I considered sitting down on a bench to better “assess” the situation, but finally decided to just keep on trucking.

Two steps, and the feeling was so strange it made me pause again. I tried nonchalantly patting my Bathing Suit Area as I crab-walked down the sidewalk, stopping and starting like I was prarie doggin and desperately trying not to shit my pants. (I did them all! I did all the poops!)

Let me tell you, ladies… I’ve felt a lot of weird things in my day, but nothing compares to the sensation of a missing vajajay. When I finally made it to my office, I was grateful for an elevator alone to try and check her pulse. Nevertheless, it took a full fifteen minutes inside the heated office building before my nether regions came fully back to life. Ever tried to sit down without your poontang in place? Trust me, girls: It just. Feels. WRONG.

Soon enough, though, my baby cave was back in business, and seemed no worse for the wear. I apologized to my cherry pie for putting her through all that, and in turn, rosebud promised to warn me next time the cold was getting to be a bit much for her.

All’s well that ends well, right, my little pink velvet sausage wallet?

A special thanks to The Vagina Lady for helping me out with today’s vernacular!

P.S. I tried to find a picture for this by image-googling “shocked woman holding vagina“… I wouldn’t recommend it.

Other awesomely bad TMI Thursdays this week…

Maxie’s TMI Thursday: Janelle’s Version

LBluca77’s Don’t Hate, Masturbate

Herb of DC’s TMI Thursday: The Kentucky Derby When I [Redacted]

I-66’s TMI Thursday: Brown Out

Miss Scorpio’s Pool Party for Two

Liebchen’s TMI Thursday: “It’s Okay, We’ve All Been There”

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Accomplish the Impossible

Doug’s TMI Thursday: Attack of the Feminine Product

f.B’s Not in the Slightest Bit TMI

Lisa’s In My Defense, This Was a Long, Long Time Ago

Shannon’s TMI Thursday: Non-Instant Karma

Foggy Dew’s TMI Thurday: A Tale of Too Much Cheddar

Laina’s TMI Thursday: Socks Not Optional