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This is a question Too much information

Rakky writes "A friend of mine, when quizzed why she was late to the pub, announced 'I was at accident and emergency, having a stuck tampon removed. They had to have a right old dig around for it.' Suffice to say, no one was interested in their Scampi Fries after that."

When have you shared just that little too much?

(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:09)
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This question is now closed.

"It's alright, I'm on the pill. I have been ever since my friend died from a back-street abortion. Do you know that bastard used a crochet hook?"
"What's a crochet hook?"

So she drew it for me.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:59, Reply)
A friend of mine forced me to tell the story about the time I had sex with a girl that was on her period.
Over pizza. I mean, the story was over pizza, not her period.

But then I looked down and I was eating bread smothered with red stuff, and suddenly, the line between the two became blurred. I didn't finish.

Neither the sex, nor the pizza
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:57, Reply)
I tend to take conversations a little too far at times.



A few years ago now during a slow day at work.

I was on the phone sorting out a problem with my (home) broadband by calling the company's helpline. I had a manager who was one of those sarky, 'I have no life outside of work' types who have to have the last word on anything.

Me: "Grand stuff. They said they'll have the problem sorted by this evening."

Her: "(Sneers) So you can continue downloading your porn then? (Basks in sycophantic titters from the usual suspects)

Me: "Of course. Why else do you think I got it in the first place? I can't do it at work can I?

All: (Awkward silence)

Me: "Not to worry, I don't denigrate women or anything...... It's child porn"

All: "Eeew."
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:54, Reply)
"No, the food was very nice, the reason I threw up is that my stomach lining's weak. The bleach ate right through it during my suicide attempt last year - did I mention I haven't got a womb any more?"
We'd only just met. To be fair to her, though, there are benefits to being frank about these things.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:52, Reply)
Arse op
A dearly beloved colleague attempted to go WAY over the score when he tried to tell me, in precise detail, about the forthcoming operation on his rusty sheriff's badge.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:49, Reply)
FIRST POST
One evening me and my girlfriend were engaging in a lovely session of passion and romance when i relised i wasnt wearing a raincoat. So ive walked accross the room and tried to find one in my bag. Much to my surprise i felt a drip on my foot and thought the inevitible that illd spunked my sily load early. So ive looked down and what did i see you ask?


Blood dripping all down my feet and legs from my member.


Now half my pub knows :(
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:48, Reply)
Kids are great for TMI
After a kid is potty trained, there's a period where they're old enough to go to the toilet themselves but wiping their arse is still a job for the nearest grown-up. So in our house, the child would just yell,

"DONE A POO!"

at the top of their lungs, and await assistance. If none was immediately forthcoming, they'd yell it again, and again, until it was. And if you were especially lucky, when you did arrive on the scene they'd go on to give you plenty of detail about the size, consistency and odour of the product.

"It's a BIG one dad, and it's curly-whirly like an ice cream."

Bless 'em.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:48, Reply)
Good ol' Musty
In Australia, I was out for a curry with some friends and friends of friends. One of these was a guy called Musty, a big rugby-playing chap from Kent.

One of us who had only just been introduced to Musty asked, "why do they call you Musty then?"

He nonchalantly replied, "oh, once me and some guys had a contest to see how much mustard we could fit under our foreskins. I won."

He carried on munching his Madras like nothing had happened. No-one else at the table did.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:44, Reply)
While spending 6 months doing Site Acceptance on a remote site ...
The team of about 5 of us had no other human contact for days on end, so understandably conversations became frank, to the point and everyone knows everyone elses secrets.

We were having a conversation about sex (as usual) when MeColleague drops in the line:

"So, does anyone else go into the bogs at work and crack one off from the wrist ... ?"

He immediately realised he given away TMI. The act of pleasuring one's self (at work or elsewhere inappropriate) has henceforth been known as "doing a Bibby" for 'twas his name. 4 years later and the phrase still haunts him, but luckily nobody has explained what it means to anyone who wasn't there at the time so his blushes are slightly saved.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:39, Reply)
Clem
I knew a guy at uni called Clem, he was very, "Rah rah I'm from Surrey" and all that but also a complete dog. On various field trips he told me the following delightful things:

- He had a small boil type lump on his arse that became known as Clems Coco Pop. He wasn't shy about displaying it either.

- One time, he'd recently shagged some filthy bird and was convinced he'd caught herpes. Whilst pissing on a beach on the north coast of Scotland he screeched, "Argh it burns and there's a blister on my cock!" and tried to show me. I politely declined his offer.

- On one very rainy day on the Scottish coast he disappeared then returned later to tell us he'd been for a dump but not without incident. He'd squatted by a wall and droppred his guts but when he'd finished he looked down. He'd shat into his waterproof trousers which were crumpled around his ankles. "What did you do?!" we asked in horror, he replied in his deep, posh tones, "I scraped it out with a stick pulled my trousers up and came over to tell you".

There's no substitute for class is there?
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:37, Reply)
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(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:34, Reply)
There was this one time...
...at band camp (I was actually touring with my band at the time) that the subject of piercings came up.

My mate described (in graphic/puss-filled/oozing, gory detail) how, when pissed, he'd peirced his winkie with a hammer & nail and how (predictably) he'd got it wrong.

He'd chosen to go for the Ampalang (sp?) which goes through one side of your helmet and out the other. Only, he'd kind of come out of the top. Needless to say, he woke surrounded in blood and what could only be described a 'morning semi'.

Cherry on the cake was having him show us the scars...

That image will never leave me...
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:31, Reply)
Subjects of your affection
"My ex-boyfriend had the biggest cock i've ever seen."

Right. Before. Entry.

TMI? I thought as much.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:31, Reply)
a friend of mine
alana, that being her name. whom, to be honest, i actually hate, introduced herself to me thusly;

me: hi.
alana: i don't have herpes! thank god.
me:...uh
alana: it was just a cold sore. which is good because i've decided to slowly turn bisexual and everything. my boyfriend can't wait.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:15, Reply)
Maybe I'm just jealous really...
A mate of mine (yup, THAT one) is currently sharing blissful, succulent, timeless experiences by humping the freckles off a new bird's fudge-factory. She’s married, but it’s out in the open now…so that makes this post ok with me guilt-wise.

Of their 'relationship', he has told me:

How she leaves the ‘outfits’ (stockings, suspenders, you know the score) at his house, so she can leave her own place in her normal gear, go upstairs, put the stuff on, and call him. He then (and I quote) ‘bends her over, pulls her pants to one side, drills her over the bed then opens a can of Carling’. Jealous much, ladies?

How she is going to see him this Saturday, bring food & wine, wear red and white underwear and wait until the England match is finished before going down on him like a nosh-hungry urang-utan.

How she discussed the pros and cons of deep bum-love with her mates before letting him have the final say (you don’t have to strain a brain to guess what he chose!)

How her mate will shag anything that moves and once had to go to hospital to have her arse stitched up after having it banged so hard by the next door neighbour in her kitchen (as the husband walked in on them!). Girl concerned has also posted some ‘delish’ photos of herself on the net too (*message me…one-at-a-time please)

I met both 'ladies' the other day, and you’d think that butter wouldn’t melt etc.

Ahhh, romance.

*EDIT: STEADY ON EVERYBODY! Due to the overwhelming response to the promise of filthy pics I have to make the follwing announcement:

I've been told that the photos are on a 'swinging site' that you have to pay to join. I can't apologise enough for the filth-tease but I'm working on somehow getting photos onto myspace. Also, My mate's bird is popping over for more action in her lunchhour very soon and I will provide more details then.

EDIT 2: I've been given a URL by above mate, so it's back on! Mind you, I'm at work so I can't check, and as you can tell from the post above, said mate is a bit of a cunt so it might be a revenge attack from him to me! Either way, I would be careful when you click...
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:14, Reply)
Anncrenne
Waht was the favoured position?

Or is that sick? ;)
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:12, Reply)
The taste of spunk
Large group of very pissed lads and lasses talking sex. The lasses turn to the subject of the taste of spunk and the old urban legends that arise from this.

One lass then pipes up with "never mind the taste it hurts like a bitch when you get it in your eyes".

Her boyfriend (now husband) went very red for a pale person. We all bought her safety goggles for their wedding day.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:08, Reply)
Dads-to-be
...if anyone suggests that you need to go to antenatal classes, don't fall for all the 'new man' bollocks -- make sure you find somewhere else you need to be. Those things aren't designed to reassure you, they're designed to freak you out with as much gross detail about the birth process as you can possibly stomach -- usually with illustrations and extended anecdotes about what happens when things go wrong.

"I had this friend and her womb fell out..."

...and if someone mentions the word 'episiotomy', run. Run away. You don't want to know.

It's like pre-revenge for the pain of childbirth that you won't have to go through.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:04, Reply)
My brother
Once tore open his scrotum on the gear cog of his bike after hitting a golf bunker at high velocity.

Once it was stitched up, not only did he take great delight in telling anyone who'd listen the whole gory story, but would punctuate it by dropping his kecks, whipping off the bandage and waggling his bollocks at all and sundry.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 11:02, Reply)
I asked my Dad once what his day
at work was like.

"It was ok; we had to do some tightening repairs on this 50 year old homosexual's anus, because it had become too baggy from repeated sex, and his faeces were falling out."

I was 15.

Cheers Dad.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:57, Reply)
"What do you mean... sunburn?"
I elaborated on a story regarding sunburn. Which, on it's own two feet sounds /fine/. But once you reference in peeling skin, red raw skin with blood and the fact that there was sex involved... well, suffice to say you know that leper joke involving nachos? It pales in comparison.

The long running saga of the ex-girlfriend extends! We were on holiday in Thailand and having copious amounts of holiday sex. Cue the day she spent too much time in the sun. I knew fine well she enjoyed it rough, i hadn't realised how bad her sunburn was. We went doggy, i used nails, her back bled, she was in a lot of pain [tears etc.]

Now, the story pretty much ends there [you'll be glad to hear] - but imagine that being shared at a family dinner by your new girlfriend, imagining that somehow my family shared my twisted humour? At a Mexican restaurant after ordering nachos in chilli sauce?

TMITMITMITMITMITMITMI!
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:56, Reply)
my old boss (the same one who lost his savile row trousers)
came into work one day in his beautiful new cartier glasses. they were very classy and we all admired them.

the next day, he was back in his old ones. i made the mistake of asking what had happened to the nice new ones. mac looked at me for a minute. then he said deliberately:

"well, if you must know, rswipe, they fell off my face when i was on the bog. and i stood on them."

images, images, argh!
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:56, Reply)
A bunch of us were playing poker
...all guys, in our 30s. It's late, we're all drunk and/or stoned. There's a lull in conversation, when one guy pipes up with,

"Do any of you guys have trouble with piles?"

Now I'm all for openness about these things, no sense in being squeamish. But c'mon, there's a time and a place, and this isn't it. Especially when he follows it up with,

"I hear it makes it worse if you wipe too much."
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:56, Reply)
Walking back from lunch, whilst at school
my friend thought it relevant to discuss some surgery he'd had performed on his "willy". We were at least 15 by this point. No idea what the surgery actually was, I may have blocked it out, but I was eating a hotdog at the time.

Also, to my eternal shame and regret, I went through a period where I , when drunk*, told any girl that would listen exactly how much girth I possessed in the trouser department.

*or sober
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:54, Reply)
Maternal instincts
I really did not need my mother to tell me, in the name of 'I don't want to be your mother I want to be your friend 'bonding', her favourite sexual position.

Especially not with sound effects.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:51, Reply)
Us!
A lot of what is written on these qotws is too much information.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:47, Reply)
Wanking.......
There were 4 us sharing a room on a geography field trip.

This was about year 9 and the converstaion turned to wanking, how often, where you wanked etc etc

Then one of my mates pipes up do you wank while listening to your parents having sex, kinda killed the converstaion.

10 years later when ever he acts like a twat we always remind him of that conversation.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:47, Reply)
ARghhh
NOOOO.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:43, Reply)
damn
that's what happens when you get distracted trying to assure someone that Barry Scott isn't a real person...

does that count as too much information?
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:43, Reply)
Missed
the last QOTW - it closed whilst I was typing my post, so now I have to live with my guilty conscience.

Friends with kids, I really find their overly long descriptions of their offsprings' most trivial achievements both tedious and completely unnecessary.

Billions of parents have had billions of children, I doubt that your child picking his nose and making you eat it is unique and I certainly don't find it in the least bit amusing.

Now that I'm a dad, I occasionally find myself apologising to my friends for my lateness. I will usually blame this on having to clean up some recent pootastrophe as a result of my son's hapless attempts to use a potty, no details too gory or smeary to be omitted. I then conspicuously sniff my fingers as if conscious of some still lingering odour.

This is *after* I've greeted them with a handshake and bought a round of drinks, of course.
(, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:42, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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