TMI (Too Much Information)
No, I don't want to see your tattoo
south of your brassiers border which
is a picture of George Bush with the
tongue of a snake where if you move
your junk the 'right way' the tongue
moves. No, I don't want to know about
how you use welfare checks to by lessons
on how to be Japanese, where you wear
kimonos and drink vats of saki you ordered
off the internet. No, I don't want know
about it every time a celebrity has multiple
affairs or how you have every sensational
headline taped to your ceiling so they will
be in your dreams. And definitely I don't
want to know about your crush on the local
homeless man who spends all day on his laptop
writing you love letters and smells like
rotten bannana peels. Lastly, I don't need
to hear about or visualize your sexual exploits
from your motorcycle days of yore or that all
of your six husbands wore your underwear on
their heads while playing the fiddle. Please,
please, please I am not being uptight! You are
not my wife, friend, lover. Tell your stories
to someone else who will care to listen, as
entertaining as they are, they are much more
than I will ever care to learn
about anyone...
by Micah Zevin 2010
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