Today is a sad day. Lilu, fearless host of TMI Thursdays, has decided to throw in the vomit-covered, poopy-stained towel. She will no longer post delicious humiliations of her own.
And then there's me.
I considered a TMI-series-finale, a swan-song of an overshare.
However, I decided that to conclude the TMI tradition on this blog would be borderline sacrilege.
So here it comes -- not the last, but just one more of a laundry list of things-most-bloggers-probably wouldn't-tell-you.
So, here goes.
I just got home from work. Hubs has a friend over. I was trying to think of a good topic for today's humiliation, but was getting stuck until I saw this friend of his sitting in our easy chair.
A few years ago, this same friend of his was sitting exactly where he is right now. I think we were all hanging out, the three of us and a few other pals, probably drinking and watching some sporting event.
Hubs was in the other room when the conversation somehow turned to threesomes.
I went ahead and shared my own near-experience:
A gal-pal and I were newly-twenty-one-ish, and after a night of drinking, were driven to some boy's house for an alleged after-party. It turned out, our chauffeur was the host as well as the sole attendee. (Color us okay with that.)
We shared a beer and all three got cozy in the boy-bed, until my friend passed out and (quite literally) rolled onto the floor.
So, the boy and I were alone to cuddle and stuff, and cuddle and stuff we did. My friend wasn't going to wake up. I practically forgot she was there! Don't judge: I was young and single and drunkspice.
Anywaddle.
Later, I wake up thinking what have I doneagain?
It isn't quite morning. The room is still dark. I'm in the bed alone! I hear odd noises...
that's right. My friend and hot boy are the floor getting. it. on.
Oh, holy mother of god.
We both wanted him. And we both got what we wanted!
When I (smugly) told this story in front of my friends and hub's friends, he got real pissed, and asked if I would restrain myself and not tell all of our mutual buddies about how I used to be abarslut bit more open minded in the love department.
"It's just that you sound like, so proud of what happened." (This was his biggest complaint.)
"Dude, I am proud. My friend and I felt so pimp."
And then there's me.
I considered a TMI-series-finale, a swan-song of an overshare.
However, I decided that to conclude the TMI tradition on this blog would be borderline sacrilege.
So here it comes -- not the last, but just one more of a laundry list of things-most-bloggers-probably wouldn't-tell-you.
So, here goes.
I just got home from work. Hubs has a friend over. I was trying to think of a good topic for today's humiliation, but was getting stuck until I saw this friend of his sitting in our easy chair.
A few years ago, this same friend of his was sitting exactly where he is right now. I think we were all hanging out, the three of us and a few other pals, probably drinking and watching some sporting event.
Hubs was in the other room when the conversation somehow turned to threesomes.
I went ahead and shared my own near-experience:
A gal-pal and I were newly-twenty-one-ish, and after a night of drinking, were driven to some boy's house for an alleged after-party. It turned out, our chauffeur was the host as well as the sole attendee. (Color us okay with that.)
We shared a beer and all three got cozy in the boy-bed, until my friend passed out and (quite literally) rolled onto the floor.
So, the boy and I were alone to cuddle and stuff, and cuddle and stuff we did. My friend wasn't going to wake up. I practically forgot she was there! Don't judge: I was young and single and drunkspice.
Anywaddle.
Later, I wake up thinking what have I done
It isn't quite morning. The room is still dark. I'm in the bed alone! I hear odd noises...
that's right. My friend and hot boy are the floor getting. it. on.
Oh, holy mother of god.
We both wanted him. And we both got what we wanted!
When I (smugly) told this story in front of my friends and hub's friends, he got real pissed, and asked if I would restrain myself and not tell all of our mutual buddies about how I used to be a
"It's just that you sound like, so proud of what happened." (This was his biggest complaint.)
"Dude, I am proud. My friend and I felt so pimp."
Comments
This completely cracked me up, good for you. :-)
We've all been there or at least close to "there" (even those of us who claim to be "good" are perhaps, not so much...)
I think he's just jealous he doesn't have as good a story to tell.