Category Archives: TMI Thursday

So, don’t trust a sheep farmer, my sister, or me!

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

So I have told you about the Sheep Farmer incident and the time my Sister totally punked me, well please don’t think that I am innocent.

A few years ago my Sister and I were hanging out with her roommate (and my friend) Mark, when she got a call about Lesbo-A-Go-Go, at the local gay bar. She pitched the idea to Mark and I about seeing girls stripping and getting down with other girls. Of course Mark and I were in. Loaded up the grocery getter and cruised on down to the club.

Upon our arrival I was introduced to an acquaintance of my Sister’s and steadily found out she was a switch hitter. At the door I was standing next to Mark and leaned over and said, “I’ve never been to a gay bar before. I am not sure what to expect.” Being the good friend I am, I told him, “dude, you are my boyfriend for the night. That way no guys will mess with you and it will be cool. Now, quit being a pussy and hold my hand when we walk in to play this off.” So, of course, Mark grabs my hand and we walk up to the bouncer. Bouncer say’s, “oh you guys need to stop right now. Everyone in the place can see you two are straight.” This gave Mark much confidence.

We walk in and there was a lot going on. I grabbed the girl I had just met and made my way to the bar, meanwhile Mark, my Sister, and various other friends got tables for the drag show. The girl and I come back with drinks for all and we start flirting and randomly making out. It was pretty cool, though her ex was there and was not pleased a pole had invaded her space. Anyways, Mark, the girl and I were standing with our backs to the last row of high top tables. Seated behind us, 5 very sharply dressed guys, obviously out for a good time.

The girl sits down and starts talking to our friends and I hear behind me the 5 guys discussing Mark’s ass. I leaned over to the girl and said, “if you want to see something funny, what happens after I talk to these guys.” I walked over to the table, introduced myself, and explained that I had over heard their conversation regarding the status of Mark’s ass. I went on to tell them that he is a close friend and he is very shy, if they wanted him to lighten up, he would need a few shots. They agreed.

Queue several trays of shots. I grabbed Mark and whispered, “dude, just go with me on this.” Now, if someone told me this, I would instantly question their motives. Not good ‘ol trusting Mark. He jumped in head first. I introduced Mark to the guys and we engaged in a psudo-flirting conversation. Went through 3 Patron shots and a fist full of whiskey, I decided that we were about to cross a threshold that no straight guy should cross. Girls, you know what I am talking about, the put up or shut up threshold.

We were all good and buzzed maybe slightly tanked. I looked at Mark, looked at my watch, and said, “hey Mark, what time is your girlfriend coming up bro?” Instant crickets. The guys looked at us and asked, “you guys are straight?” as if it wasn’t apparent. Well, maybe not apparent about Mark, but come on. I pulled what every guy has had happen to them: I thanked the group for the drinks, old them they were nice and that we enjoyed their company; however we need to get back to our friends. Bam! That. Just. Happened.

That is how I basically auctioned used my friends ass to get us (good) free drinks in the gay bar.

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Don’t trust a sheep farmer or my Sister for that matter.

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

I told you last week about the incident with the sheep farmer and how he shouldn’t trusted. Well, actually, its my Sister that really shouldn’t be trusted. I had just returned from Australia and was in DC for New Years eve 2006/2007. We decided that we should go to Dupont Circle1 and hangout at one of the bars there. Well, before we went out, I wanted to get a new shirt and tie, just to keep it on the klassy. Went to a store called Pink, found a very nice shirt, and was talked into a pink color tie. We pre-gamed a good amount and I should have known things would go down hill from here.

Getting dressed to go out I was convinced by my sister and her roommate that I should wear the new shirt and tie I just purchased. I was in, cause I looked good; Blue dress shirt with white French cuffs, black pants, nice shoes, and a pink tie. We headed out into the depths of the Circle to find “our” bar. Insanity, bars were charging like $50.00 just to get in and there was nothing special about these places. So, my Sister pipes up and says, I know this place in Adam’s Morgan2, not knowing any better, I was of course, in.

We got into a cab and quickly discovered that the cabby was either drunk or just plain mental. As we get in, he notices Jen’s gigantic tits3 and we were off on a ride to Adam’s Morgan. The cabby made inappropriate, yet funny comments about my Sister and Jen, and was all “I love the lesbians. I wish my wife was a lesbian.” We thought it was funny as shit. Yeah, kind of creepy. In that DC is kind of creepy after 11pm anyways, way. Dropped us off in front of the bar.

Things were looking up, the line was short, admission cheap, and a the few girls in line were really hot. Of course started talking to them and was working out a few things. Went inside, got a few drinks and we all started dancing. Then, all of a sudden, I got that strange feeling that I was somewhere I probably shouldn’t be.

Looked around and I quickly noticed that the M:F ratio was once again, unequal. I looked at my Sister, who instantly knew, I knew what was going on and I said, “what the fuck, you brought me to a fucking sausage fest, on fucking New Year’s eve!” She said, “its cool. Plus its too late to go anywhere else.” Now, realizing that I was in a Gay bar, in Adam’s Morgan, in a pink tie, I quickly felt the need to run to the border and pound a few tequila shots. I came back to where the girls were with 3 shots and Jen says, “oh, I don’t like tequila.” Me: “Who said these were for you assholes?” Yes, obviously I was pissed. Like fighting mad pissed. Not that I was in a gay bar, but because the girls I was talking to in line, bailed as soon as they found out what the place was. I think I said something like “the gays chased my girls away.

So, as I continued to get bombed4 my Sister, knowing I am totally pissed went over and talked to a huddle of gay boys. Brought them over to tell me the following, “oh honey, we gave the straights the color pink years ago. Everyone here is keeps talking about the well dressed straight boy and his 2 lesbians. Lets have a drink.” After that was said, we all got bombed and I kissed Jen at midnight. Ended up having a nice time… After the reality of the moment faded.

Moral of the story, never trust my Sister when she suggests a place to go, without double checking with other sources.

1Our first mistake.

2If you ever hear “lets go to Adam’s Morgan, punch that person in the face.

3You couldn’t miss these things, they were a size double G or something. Once, I put her bra on my head and pretended I was working a rice patty. I thought it was funny.

4What else do you do in this situation?

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Sticky Situation

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

It has been a while since I have put out a good TMI. In light of that, today I bring you a public service announcement JP style. Ladies and some gentlemen (I have diverse readers), listen up, this could happen to you!

Recently I found myself entrenched in a very good, nay epic, session of sexy time. It was a throw down if you will. It was Boston at my house and I was the lead runner in the marathon. Things were all they were billed to be. In the morning or same night, depending on your persepctive, I dropped the young lady off at her house and went back to the honey comb hideout. As I crawled into bed* I felt something tugging on my my shaft.

Well, actually let me start off in the beginning. Before I even embarked on this journey, I did some manscaping, knowing full well what the evening had in store. If I have learned anything in my short time on this earf,  is no one want to play an over grown course if you know what I mean. Smooth as the 18th green. The girl and I went out, had drinks, and closed the bar. On the way out I offered her a piece of gum, because no one wants to kiss drunk breath.**

Well, fast forward to me going to bed and nagging feeling that something was just not right, um, in my world. Reached down, did a 24 point inspection and found a major issue. It seems the gum I had previously given to my date was now hitching a ride on the S.S. JP submarine. Thats right folks, she forgot to take out her gum, before she attached her mouth on my shaft. Now, please realize two things: 1) She blew me early on in the evening and then later as the ceremonies were coming to a close. So, there is no real detailed timeline on this event. 2) The gum was attached and I didn’t realize it, well, due to the events of the evening. I did what any decent man would do, pulled off the foreign object and went to sleep.***

So, the moral of the story ladies (and gentlemen) is: If you are going to blow a guy, take the fucking gum out your mouf!

the_more_you_know2

*My roommate had questions, actually more of a noise compliant due to the preacher man activities on my side of the house.

**Yes, I was thinking of only myself at this point in time. I do have a mild gum addiction and hate skank breath.

***It was only skin contact, because I had manscaped earlier. Plus, I was wicked fucking tired and didn’t give a shit enough to freak out.

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The Gospel’s 100th Anniversary

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

Today is my 100th post here at the Gospel and just like when it started, I still have no clue what I am doing with it. I feel my writing is sub-par, yet I keep attracting readers. Upon reflection of 100 various posts I still don’t have a cohesive thesis or outline for this blog. What I realized is there probably never will be. I will never have a great theme blog and I am fine with this.

So how does one celebrate the 100th? By refelcting on the author’s top 3 posts or the 3 that sucked the least. Anyways, if you are new or have been down with deathrow from day one, thank you coming coming by. I do have to say it is quite fortuitous that this 100th lands on TMI Thursday. So without further delay:

Best (or grossest) TMI Thursday post: If you have a weak stomach, don’t press forward…

The post I feel I was most on my game: Let me peak at your soul…

And last but not least the post that kicked this blog off: So, this is JP…

Again, thanks for dropping in and I hope you celebrate this upcoming 4th of July weekend and your country, by blowing up a small piece of it.

JP

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WRW Edition of TMI Thursday

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

Today’s post is sponsered by procrasination. I was out with my best friend last night and had no time to write out the one I wanted to do. That, and work is still kicking my ass. So I had an idea to blend 2 of my favorite posting days into one; TMIT and WRW. Plus, I seem to have a lot of phantom readers.

So, if you read this today, no matter if you are a seasoned vet or not, drop a comment. I very curious to see who is out there.

Without further interruption, I bring you the Gospel of JP’s Would you Rather fetish edition*:


Receive oral from an 80 y/o sans teeth?

or

Receive a golden shower from a crack head?

Enjoy kids!

*Please note this author has tried neither items listed above.

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Fun with a Bedazzler

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

The other day Roomy #1 comes home from hanging out with the girls and making her new boyfriend a gift. So, the question of the day is, what do you get a guy that lives a solid 4 hour plane ride away for his birthday? Cologne, a jersey, new set of golf clubs? Nope. You break out bedazzler and create a gift that keeps on giving:

Bedazzled Underoos

Bedazzled Underoos

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, you bedazzle his name on a pair of thongs! I seriously had 2 thoughts. First, wow. Really? Second, so you are telling me basically you are gift wrapping your pussy for his birthday. Now in most normal conversations it would have stopped there, but in our house the fun had just begun. Because she showed me the back of said underoos:

Backdoor action

Backdoor action

Yes, that is a bedazzled heart on the back of the thong. So, in theory, the only thing visible is this heart and the top strap, as we know the rest gets, um, lost in the abyss.

Now, I really didn’t give too much commentary at first, but then we were at the bar watching the Magic finally posting a win. I was out with Roomy #1 and the Ex, when the Ex leaned over and said, “did roomy #1 tell you we went to the sex toy mega-mart?” Me, “no she did not mention that you went too.” I was slowly thinking to myself, that I was glad I ended up not going. Well, the Ex then says, “did you see the gift she made for the new guy?” The flood gates were know open. The following are some comments I made about the bedazzled thong:

  • Personalized gift wrapped pussy! There is no greater gift.
  • You can unwrap this gift in so many ways. Slow, fast, with you teeth, hell you can even pull the wrapper a side and peek in.
  • Putting his name on it is saying he now basically owns your nether region. “But do you have a flag?”
  • Instead of a heart  you should have bedazzled an arrow pointing down.
  • Even better, attach one of those flashing arrows people have on their bikes, that way he knows where to go in the dark!
  • No, no, no, better yet, leave the heart in the front and have an arrow in the back. Then you can avoid the entire “cool with the back-door” conversation. If that’s how you want to roll.
  • Who uses a bedazzler? I mean I know Mr. T is trying to make a come back, but that doesn’t mean everything from the 80’s is cool again. However, strong work on the strategic use of  the 80’s.
  • Lol, are you going to let him keep these as a souvenir? HA!

I am not kidding you when I say this went on for ages. In fact sitting and writing this I have come up with a few more. But I will save it for the golf course when I take the new guys money and harass him about this. Although it did get me thinking. This is kind of like a mail order bride in concept. She is flying to him, to give on his birthday, a gift that theoretically keeps on giving. Or at least until it gives out.

Enjoy the rest of your TMI Thursday kids!

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Virginity Is Overrated

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

Hi everyone. I’m Emma, from over at Pleasure Notes, jumping in for JP while he’s off suitable celebrating graduation. Since it’s TMI Thursday, I guess I’m jumping in with both feet and a deflated life preserver. This will most likely be the one and only time I write a TMI post anywhere. (Please note the lengths I’ll go to for JP. Hell of a guy, this one. Thanks for the invite, babe.)

I’ve worked very hard to block out each and every embarrassing moment I’ve ever had or witnessed. I blush, you see, and it’s not in the cute, flattering way – I turn the color of an overused pussy, and my face gets about as swollen too…

Which leads me to my TMI story…

LOCATION: Athens, Greece.

PLAYERS: Me, a 24-year-old virgin… Yes, I’ll pause a moment while you find your jaw and reattach it to your face. Done? Good. Now, close it. Gianni #1, a strapping, 20-something Greek man. Babs, Jan & Linda, my aiding and abetting girlfriends. Gianni #2, #3 and #4, Gianni’s friends – I swear to God, I really do think they were all called John.

BACK STORY: The girls and I were living in Prague, and suffering through the worst winter they’d had in ten years. I was about to turn 25. And, in case you missed it the first time I dropped the bomb, I was still a virgin. We’d decided to go to Greece a) to remember what the sun looked like, b) celebrate my b-day a little early and c) so Linda could see Gianni #4, with whom she’d had a passionate fling a few month earlier. Linda, when writing Gianni #4 to confirm the impending reunion, may have mentioned that she was bringing with her 3 very horny girlfriends who expected to be entertained.

EVENT: It starts on the plane ride to Athens, of course, during which the girls and I consumed 3 bottles of wine we’d purchased at the Prague duty free as gifts for Gianni #4, with whom we would be staying while in Athens.

It was cheap wine. We were poor expats. And it did the trick. We terrorized other passengers until we passed out, and awoke just in time to live through what, in the States, would be classified as a crash landing. The plane was an Aeroflot reject. The seats flopped forward with our bodies. And the pilots got a standing ovation as the plane finally decided to stop doing a Bacchanalian freestyle down the runway. Awesome.

We were still shit-faced.

We stumbled out of the airport, into glaring sunlight, where Linda and Gianni #4 immediately started a miraculous copulation-thru-Levis mash-up. Giannis #1-3 greeted our breasts, then grabbed our luggage and lead us to a Monster Truck while trying not to drown in puddles of drool or knock anything over with their woods.

How could an orgy not be minutes away?

Back at Gianni #4’s flat, and two more bottles of wine later, we’d all paired off. Babs and Jan played shy with Giannis #2 &#3. I role-played a slutty school-girl persona with Gianni #1, a very supportive fan.

This was it – I was not going to turn 25 and still be a virgin. After all, I was convinced everyone else on the planet was fucking like rabbits 24/7, and I was tired of waiting for the perfect moment. Damn John Hughes movies. Poor Gianni.

We slipped away to a bedroom. Clothes came off. Things started getting wet. All was going swimmingly. And then, just as he was about to “shatter my vessel” so to speak, I piped up to inform him – “Oh, by the way, I’m a virgin, so… you know… carry on.”

I’ve always had impeccable timing.

Gianni froze in fear, as his life and 47 babies flashed before his wasted eyes. It took 2 minutes – okay, maybe only 20 seconds – to convince him I was of sane mind and that he should really refocus on the business at hand. He obliged. We then fucked like rabbits. There was blood. The wine served as effective numbing agent. And I got what I wanted. No more virginity. Woo woo!

The next morning, I had a massive headache. And I walked awkwardly for days.

How was the sex? Aw, you already know the answer to that.

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