So THAT'S What People Mean by TMI

You know, and I'm sure you do know, that I've never really understood what people mean by "Too Much Information." I am always on the hunt for information. How can you have too much?

I know someone who knows someone who had a prolapsed uterus, and I take comfort that someday when I get a prolapsed uterus, as I'm sure I will, that knowledge will assure I won't feel like quite the freak. Just as you will thank me when you get your various lumps and bulges on your labia. You are welcome, in advance.

I search for information from strangers too. I believe you people call it "eavesdropping," I call it "hearing," but whatever. I've found out the symptoms for four or five illnesses, I've discovered the importance of getting a lawyer when getting divorced, I've heard of two Saint Louis athletes who are unfaithful and not to be trusted just in case I encounter them in a sexual situation. This will not happen, but it's good to be prepared anyway.

I am pretty happy invading other's privacy in order to gain information, that's what I'm saying. So you would think I would put Steven Page's Twitter account in a bowl, dim the lights, get under the covers and glut myself, but it appears not.

At first, I thought, "how do I navigate this twitter thing?" then "ah, I see Steven can only tolerate 5 buckwheat pancakes at a time" and then "oh, look, I can go to the people he's talking to" and then "Hey this person sounds like his girlfriend" then "huh, his girlfriend moved the printer from the downstairs to the upstairs" then that's what sent me over the edge. TMI! I felt it! Just like you normal people! I ran like a frightened woodland creature and I haven't been back.

It was a little like when my boyfriend gave me a Playgirl in college. I went right for the centerfold (stupid articles) but I couldn't open it up. I curled the pages apart in slow-motion, so I saw head / feet. head-neck / feet-ankles, then torso / calves, then lower belly / upper thighs, then I put it away because I really felt like I was violating this man's privacy. You know, the Playgirl model. Who had posed naked.

So, I apologize to anyone who has been frightened off by my tales of cysts, vibrators, and bowel terrors. Of course, if you're reading this, you probably have no fear.

Comments

[tonya]

Seriously. I was so excited to get Twittering, but I find the only interesting person there is Stephen Fry. He posts interesting photos and stuff about where he is, and he is currently on vaca around the world. HIS tweets are interesting. Steven Page, OTOH....well I just can't read his girlfriend's tweets back and forth. I just want to throw up. I know I shouldn't be so judgmental, but I can't help it.

[magpie]

No fear at all.

[Sherri]

Nope. No fear. Also have a prolapsed uterus.

I do sometimes try very hard to forget things, though. It only works on my keys.

[#0.75]

So what is your Twitter name? I am @mamarcus17

[Kristie]

I was lured into the Steven Page twitter thing, which led me to the girlfriend's, which led me elsewhere. Definitely TMI. I feel like a creepy, horrible person.
It's just so easy to click on links to who knows where on the internet...

[Big Dot]

How ironic that it's only the sane people who want to keep their thoughts safe and private inside their skulls. The ones whose thoughts would probably be worth reading, that is.

[TheQueen]

Tonya - I kind of thought her tweets humanized her. I'll have to check out Stephen Fry. Or not. It's a slippery slope.
Magpie - Fearless!
Sherri - My sympathies for your uterus. (*Kegels*)
.75 - No! I refuse to tell you. Do not twitter me. If a bird twitters in a forest and no one is there to hear it ...
Kristie - Yeah, I branched out too. I felt like I was rummaging through their trash.
Big Dot - Yep, if you keep your thoughts safe, people usually assume they're worthwhile. Or so I understand.

[#0.75]

I can't Twitter you OR text you...you're just lucky you go to movies and concerts with me!