Whilst Eating Pizza
Me: Urgh I can smell jizz *Smells Hand* Not my hands.

Friend: Try the other one.

Me: No they both smell of weed. I think it's just my breath.

Lovely
(Ellytots Last thought of chocolate on, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 13:20, Reply)

Anglo-French carnal relations
Back in my uni days, a few of us (mostly guys but a couple of girls too) were in the local pub for a leisurely afternoon booze-up. We were sat around a table having a good old chat about all kinds of nonsense. One of our gang, Emma, was there. She was fairly quiet but often came out with us, especially since her French boyfriend had arrived a few months ago to live with her, and Emma thought it would be good for her boyfriend, Stephan, to mix with us and practice his English.
Now Stephan was a decent guy at heart, but none of us really "got" him. His English was very poor, and he was a very sensitive guy (in that French way), often appearing sullen and moody. He didn't seem to understand any of our pub banter, and the baudy jokes flew right over his head. He just sat there at the table sulking, head downcast, probably conceiving poetry in his head or something.
Anyway, the conversation turned to anal sex (as it often does). One of our number, a Scouse lad named Stu, exclaimed in his thick Mersey drawl, "I jus' don't understand, like, 'ow a cock can fit up an arse!"
Without raising his eyes from the floor, and in a deadpan, Gallic 'ow-you-say monotone, Stephan calmly muttered the now legendary words: "ask Emma".
The entire table (nay, pub) exploded into incredulous hysterics. We were literally rolling around the floor. In a split second Stephan had transformed himself from moody Frog into comic legend. A grateful smile even crossed his mouth, as he saw that he was finally accepted here as one of the lads.
However, moments later his smile evaporated, as all eyes turned to Emma, the only one not amused even slightly, who was sat there silent, tears in her eyes, her normally pale skin flushed with anger and shame.
Emma got up, and hissed "I can't believe you just told them that", and stormed out of the pub in tears.
That was pretty much the end of their relationship.
( Biffins Bridge, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 13:04, Reply)

Party Tricks
At a house party at a friend's house a few years back, the drinks were flowing, everyone was merry and there was a general good atmosphere. Talk turned to party tricks. Ooh, fun, you're probably thinking. I know I was at the time. You know, freaky stuff, arms bending the wrong way, belching the alphabet, that kinda thing. Oh no. My friend's brother (Shaun) had other plans.

"I can do the weirdest thing!" He proclaimed, whilst standing on a chair in the kitchen. All turn to Shaun, glassy, half drunk eyes staring at him with eager anticipation. "I can fit my SCROTUM over a pint glass!!!" Now, for anyone pondering the logistics of this, don't. Some fool wondered out loud, which prompted Shaun to demonstrate this 'feat'. *Shudders*
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 12:02, Reply)

I'm not very good at keeping my mouth shut....
When blind drunk I snapped my banjo string shagging someone I normally wouldn't touch. The following morning I went to work for two hours then went to the pub, where I told the bar manager. Within about half an hour pretty much everyone in my town knew.

It's coming up to four months and people still sing duelling banjos at me.
( CowJam, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 11:56, Reply)

gangrene
Just had a conversation with my brother who works in a hospital. During the week they had a patient with gangreous testicles, apparently they really honked.
Really needed to know about that cheers bro!
(welgar, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 11:36, Reply)

that's not sugar
I visited my parents over the long weekend (US Labor Day). While fixing myself a bowl of cereal one morning, I grabbed the sugar bowl and removed the lid.

The stuff in the sugar bowl wasn't sugar. It was beige-colored and tasted like Tang, but wasn't.

I had nearly put Metamucil on my cereal.
( cynfulcynner ...another American nutter, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 11:02, Reply)

Amsterdam
I am currently working in Amsterdam - city of sin - and I am confident that I am the only member of our party to get his cock sucked last night.

Alas, it was four o'clock in the morning, when I awoke in my hotel room to a mind-bending itch in my trouser department, to find a mosquito parked on my bell-end, contemplating sloppy seconds.

I beat the slag to death with a book, and there was blood everywhere. Mine, mostly.

Oh God, how it itches.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 10:54, Reply)

ingrown hairs
i convinced my ex to shave off his pubic hair because i was sick of gagging from getting it in my mouth when i was giving him head, which he got on an almost daily basis

only problem with this (the hair removal, not the daily blowjobs) was the fact that he'd get horrible ingrown hairs that i'd pull out for him... they were always huge ones where heaps of pus would follow... we would do this on a nightly basis.. along with me squeezing all of his bacne (that's back acne for the uninitiated) and have him cheering whenever we'd get a particularly large amount of pus out of them.

I also used to lick his asshole during some sexual activities and he loved it. He would always lose a lot of precum when i did it, and then blow really hard when he came.

Thinking of both of these things makes me gag now, so if i have to feel nauseous because of it, so can all of you!

click this if you think i'm a bitch
(brotagaia, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 10:30, Reply)

Not the thing to say at band practice
In the practice room before the bandmaster came in, Charlie ( real name ) casually asked amid the usual morning banter
"Do any of you hold your breath when you're about to come?"
Tumbleweed, single bell tolling etc.
He later went nuts, assailed his bandmaster and joined the Mormons.
( uncle bastard is twanging a dan moi, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 9:33, Reply)

most of my answers to this question
would involve
1. spilling other people's secrets onto the internet
2. spilling my own secrets onto the internet

Neither of those seems like a good idea, really, but there is one answer I can still give.

I have a best friend. For years he has told me just about everything about his sex life.

I also have a little sister. She also tends to overshare about her sex life.

This worked fine until just over a year ago, when for some reason they became an item. And both, individually, decided to tell me about their sex life, each giving details about the other that you really, really don't want or need to know about your best mate or younger sibling.

After a few weeks I slapped a ban on them, they were no longer to discuss with me anything they had done together without other people present because my poor fragile mind couldn't take it any more.

I thought the problem was solved, but then, they broke up. Badly. And both started talking to me about it with the detail and venom that only acrimonious exes can muster.
*shudder*
*mindbleach*
( Batsgirl, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 8:53, Reply)

This one was me
While in college, was working at a fried chicken establishment. Bunch of us went out after work one night to a party. As one of the oldest, I drove. There were two posh sisters who also worked there -- not sure why they were slumming except it drove dad nuts. One sat next to me as I drove.

As we passed by my old elementary school, I said, "I went to school there."

Added, "Also lost my virginity behind it."

Then, "In the seat where Shelley is sitting now."

Her butt left the seat as she "sat" in an arched position, hovering over the spot where I became a man, for most of the trip until she grew tired.

Well worth it -- and the rest of the car was all men aged 17-22. So she never lived it down.
(ChiTown Guy Dating when 35+: sane, single, attractive - pick 2, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 7:55, Reply)

The medical profession, indeed
They're the very definition of TMI. We learned at college very quickly that you don't eat with the nursing students.

I learned that at an early age when my mother was doing her practicals for being an x-ray tech.

Among the stories she had:

1) The hospital was located by "bar row," the street (State Line Road) that separated Calumet City, Illinois, from Hammond, Indiana. The bars populated the strip because Indiana had lower cigarette and alcohol taxes, but Illinois allowed full nudity for dancers and the sale of alcohol on Sundays. Because of the establishments lining this street, the hospital had a machine that took cue balls out of mouths -- it's a sucker bet. Once the ball gets in, the jaw locks. It's sometimes worth losing the $10-$20 bet to shut some drunk up.

2) Some guy (allegedly) bet his friend $20 that he couldn't shove a can of deodorant up his @$$. The $20 didn't even cover the x-rays when it didn't come out within two weeks.

3) A couple at a party, drunk: She wants to have sex. He can't get it up. She produces one of those thin cocktail straws. . . Guess what gets lodged in his willy for a few days?

4) Two guys come in by ambulance from an auto crash. One has something sticky around his mouth. While prepping the driver, the staff finds maple syrup all over his crotch.

5) And of course, none of us boys could have a moped or motorcycle because of the accidents that came into the ER-- all recounted in excrutiating detail.

Those medical shows are never in the same realm as what the professionals calmly discuss -- while EATING, no less.
(ChiTown Guy Dating when 35+: sane, single, attractive - pick 2, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 7:39, Reply)

Me and the missus...
Engage in Supermarket Grossout.

It's where, as we walk down certain aisles, one or the other of us will say, overly loudly...

"Do you not need some Preparation H for your bleeding haemmoroids?"

-or-

"Babe, didn't you want some vagisil to help get rid of the yeast infection?"

-or, staring at the back of a packet -

"This should help you clear up that suppurating pus, darling."

-or-

"Wouldn't some yoghurt help with that nasty discharge?"

It helps to pass the time.
(Give me the cheese you cocksucker No board sig in protest., Sat 8 Sep 2007, 7:38, Reply)

Too Much Information
Every post on this QOTW!

Do 'Nam veterans have flashbacks this bad?

Do they fuck!
(Pimp my Clown is going back to the future on, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 5:04, Reply)

'Pardon Me'
Sat having lunch in a pub with my best mate...

I let out a nice round beer induced burp... and before I could stop myself I tell her "cor that tasted of sperm"

Poor cow.
(Beejster, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 4:35, Reply)

Being Of Medical Background...
I am a nurse, who lives with other nurses, and have a lot of doctors and paramedics for friends so naturally (and partly because we are all a bit geeky with work) you all have a bit of a laugh and a giggle at each others stories, needless to say; when you are released back in to the general public your stories tend not to go down too well...

While out with some friends of my girlfriend one plesent summers evening, somebody happened to mention that they had seen a particually disgusting documentary the misfortunes of people who undergo cosmetic surgery, cue me explaining in graphic detail about the worse "designer vagina" mishap I had ever seen (or more the point, redressed its green potent smelling gunge daily).

Cue, the Girlfriends friends (and the girlfriend) looking rather intently between their legs grimacing trying to imagine what a vagina would look like, after a surgeon meat grinded it, rubbed it with dirt and got it nice and infected...

Only I seemed to enjoy my calzone after that...

In fairness though, as a nurse, you just forget your doing it...
(iydlibm ...If I Am Online Here, I Am Definatly Bored..., Sat 8 Sep 2007, 3:04, Reply)

Nurses. Gah.
I was married to one. When she and I were first living together she was working in Intensive Care and used to come home with tales of homeless people who came in with maggots living in their festering wounds and the old woman who was admitted with spiders living in her hair and biting her scalp because she hadn't washed it in so long. Since she and I generally were talking over dinner at the time, it was pretty difficult to eat anything with rice. I finally informed her that if she didn't knock it off I was going to move out within the week- which was met by blank amazement, as she couldn't understand why I didn't want to listen to what she did at work that day.

Her mother is even worse- she used to be a nurse at a nursing home. Additionally she was remarkably like Doris Day on acid- she wanted to be a perfect 1950s housewife and tried to do all kinds of "thrifty" things like making potscrubbers out of onion bags. So on the day when she was talking about someone having kidney stones, she didn't notice me looking increasingly green, and she went into a description of how they were staghorn stones, so called because they were all through the kidney and looked like antlers- so I turned to my wife and exclaimed, "And if you spray paint them gold they make lovely Christmas ornaments!"

And then there's my friend Rob. He's doing his practical in nursing school right now, and recently he went into great detail about Foley catheters and how one guy ripped his out the other day, and his meatus was stretched out from being catheterized so much. (That word is pronounced me-AT-us, by the way.) He didn't notice me shuddering at first, and was going on about how difficult it is to catheterize someone when I commented that it must make it hard to be-AT-us the me-AT-us...

He also told me that he gets a fair amount of grief from other guys about being a nurse. I told him that he should look those guys in the eye and say, "The other day I had to catheterize a 350 pound 70 year old woman. You think you'd be man enough to do that?"
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sat 8 Sep 2007, 2:00, Reply)

That one time on a school trip...
In a hotel room far from home, a dozen kids were playing "Ten Fingers", that game where you say something you haven't done and if anyone else in the group has done it they put down a finger. Theoretically you "win" if you're the last one with any fingers, but of course it looks much better to be the first one out.

Anyway, because it was an academic trip, most of the kids were pretty nerdy, and hadn't really done anything scandalous. On the other hand, two of my best friends were on the trip - and as nerdy kids go they're fairly scandalous. I've heard all their stories before, so I had license to laugh hysterically. But they went back and forth: "I've never earned my red wings." "I've never jacked off with jalapeno juice on my hands." (this is apparently incredibly painful) The nerds kept giving my friends nervous glances, and definitely wouldn't look them in the eye the next day.

It was also the only game of Ten Fingers I've ever played in which I haven't been the last one out, so that just goes to show you what a chaste crowd this was.
(echomikeromeo, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 1:00, Reply)

I'm more likely to give too much information
In fact, it's sort of a catchphrase of mine; it's the name of my (private) blog and I've written essays about it.

Probably my best example was when I told a group of very shocked girls in my second-year French class how I'd spent about 10-15 minutes longer than I should have on a European history exam because I was engaged in sexual fantasy. Cue shocked and disgusted faces.
(echomikeromeo, Sat 8 Sep 2007, 0:56, Reply)

Filming poo.
A friend of mine once filmed himself shitting. No, not his face but his anus.
Showed us all the next day, like.
(I've got the clap has some cool sentence here, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 22:53, Reply)

Just remembered!
I TMI'd my brother. Lovely chap, bit bald, but otherwise OK. Anyway, he once told me that he'd been at a mate's party when this chap had sneaked off to the toilet for a spot of horizontal jogging. My bro seemed to feel that this was somehow rather beyond the pale, and invited me to share my revulsion.

Something jogged my 'overshare' switch at this point.

"Done that," I said, with an airy wave. Bro turns a pleasing shade of pale green. "Me and my bird have done my room, the bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen."

A somewhat khaki brother weakly makes "stop now!" motions. But I plunged recklessly ahead: "Oh, and you know the car? More room on the back seat than you'd think."

"Where was the car?!?" my bro - well, wrote on a piece of paper while struggling to keep his lunch in the right place.

"Down a country lane. And in the car park of the local park. And the top floor of a multi-storey car park."

He started heaving at this point. So I told him I'd once tried it on a train...
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 22:49, Reply)

Ewwww!!!!
Many years ago, I used to work with a load of drinkers in Oxford. Between drinking bouts, we did a bit of arseing around with computers. One of our number was a determined Scot called Richard. Of course, there were the usual stories of what he wore under his kilt. Rumour had it that he favoured leather Y-fronts.

But it was not so... At one party, he turned up in a kilt. And the young(ish) lady I was seeing wanted to know what he had on underneath. I, naturally, didn't. But sadly, she and a friend managed to ambush him, and pull up his kilt. Did I mention he was ginger? Well, I found out that night that the Y-front rumours were false, he was a real firecrotch, and that mental floss can't clean that out of your mind!

Eww!
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 22:40, Reply)

All the time!
If me and my mother meet someone she knows whilst out shopping, she'll tell them exactly what we are getting/why/what i am doing in life/other crap.

"Oh well me and Vicky are just out to buy some fabric to make her a dress. She's going to a wedding so we are thinking of blah or blah. Vicky is now doing exams and has just received a blah! I know, me too. It's brilliant. However, Vicky better start improving her blah otherwise her blah isn't going to happen. Stupid Vicky."

It varies. It's funny because I've never actually met the people she chats to so in a way, it's slightly scary.

These strangers know my whole life in under a minute. Happy days.
(I've got the clap has some cool sentence here, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 22:32, Reply)

In memory of Legless part 2
I should just point out to those not in the know...

He's not dead, just emigrated to Oz. As you will no doubt find out when he next posts on here. After he's recovered from the jetlag... and the catching up with Mrs Legless. So expect to hear from him in a fortnight!

I can hear collective sighs of relief all round. Except from DebbieDoesDerby, possibly ;o)

Apologies to kiwanotree by the way, who has prompted this entry. Totally irrelevant to the thread, but who cares?

Best go, as Davros jr is up to his peskey genetic experimentation again. One of these days he'll go too far...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 7 Sep 2007, 22:05, Reply)

When I was in my early teens...
...my mother announced to the neighbours - whilst I was stood there - that if I was still a virgin at 16, she was going to get me a prostitute.

The old cow never ponied up, though.
(DrDerekDoctors, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 21:53, Reply)

A while ago
My mate thought it appropriate to tell me he had his girlfriend's menstrual cycle plotted on his phone's calendar.

That's just terribly creepy.
(Viscous Fridge Magnet Used To Be A Cha-Cha, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 21:41, Reply)

"hanging down to my knees"
Back when I lived in South Africa and worked at a factory, we had The Three Brians: me, my boss Brian, and his boss Brian. Middle Brian was tailor-made for this question: I was the new kid, a sensitive soul with a fresh set of ears to brutalize.

He had Piles. No ordinary Piles, in his descriptions these... things took on Milliganesque* proportions. I think he offered to show me at one point... I must have blanked out the memory of the question alone.

Nevertheless, I was a bit more sympathetic than my other colleagues, who had heard it all before. One wag had offered him a surefire way of shifting them: a bucket of petrol and a wire brush. This went down like... a bucket of petrol and a wire brush.

Middle Brian is no longer with us: turns out that his colonic problems were a bit more serious than "mere" Piles. All the information you need can be summed up in one word: Fucksocks. 8(

* As Spike Milligan described his in his WWII journals: epic
( bnt what, me worry?, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 21:09, Reply)

a little different
this was from my friend who is not on the bright side. he said that a paedophile lived next door until his mother found out, went next door, and proceeded to "fist his girlfriend."

length ?? as big as her arm.
(deantastic, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 20:12, Reply)

I hope it's just ironic...
My brother sent me a video clip last night by bluetooth. His phone showed up on mine as "BIG BOY". I hope it's an ironic name, he is a shortarse. If not...

...Bleugh.
(drfeck pissshitfuck, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 19:41, Reply)

Russ Abbott never had to cope with this...
I work with a middle-aged lady who bears more than a passing resemblance to a slightly younger Bella Emberg, and is married to a Baldrick lookalike, neither of whom excel in fragrantness. On one occasion she decided to enrich our lives by announcing, I quote, "When I had my caesarian I had to be shaved, you know, down there. When I looked, the person shaving me was an old schoolfriend. It was strange having my nether regions shaved by someone I was at school with!" This was proclaimed during our firm's Christmas Dinner, in a not-discreet-enough voice...while she was sitting next to our boss.
On a previous work meal she informed those present that, while trying to get pregnant, she had to resort to IVF because Baldrick's "sperm swim in the wrong direction". This coming from the person who records her (and her teenage daughters') periods in her work diary (in pencil before the event then inks them in - in red - after) and has been known to leave floaters and skidmarks in the office loo. And someone claimed once to have spotted her pleasuring herself under her desk. Nice.
(thefunkyfaz, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 19:39, Reply)