Raw, but c*nsored blabbing and blogging of a young journalista
and local news producer in Southern New England.
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Saturday, July 17, 2004

What's up with too much information?

EDIT 9/24/08: Deleted reference to an apparently deleted entry whose Reblogger comment page was getting spam comments. -Ed.

You might want to read a recent comment first before going on. If you don't want to know what I'm wearing as I type this, then don't click this link.

In the last month or so I've had some very entertaining situations where a couple of people have given me what might be termed Too Much Information.

• One of my co-workers who's a couple years older than me came in to work and told me, "Okay, I have to take a really big shit," and left the room. Once he returned he sighed and said, "Ahhhhh, I feel ten pounds lighter," and started reaching over me to get at the fax machine. "Okay then!...." I said.


• I had the opportunity to hang out with an old friend from college. We found ourselves at bathrooms, and I ended up being finished first. Once she returned, she apologized with a smile on her face. "I had to poop!"


• Then there was my friend who is all of 25 and tells me she's an old lady now. "How are you an old lady?" I asked. She tells me she has painful hemorrhoids from washing too much. This is according to her doctor.

So I don't know what to make of all this. Is it now in vogue to live our lives as open books? Is it because of reality TV? Is it wanting to be open? Or are these just coincidences I've noticed?

I dunno. I once worked at a TV station where one of the weather guys regularly lived outside the market on occasion, ended up storing clothes in a closet, and changing in a corner of the newsroom. One day I had the privilege to glance at his Calvin Klein striped boxer briefs for about a second as he perused his stock, before I was beseeched by my conscience to let him have his privacy, even though I swear to God he was doing it to get a rise out of me.

(He may have worked for a short time in a theatre realm, where in some circles professional men and women are accustomed to seeing each other in stages of undress. Or so I'm told since I haven't really done theatre since high school.)

At that same station I worked with a producer who once, for some reason, I can't remember why, had to stand up and take his pants down halfway to re-adjust like, a shirt-tail. I didn't really see. At least one woman was present, and another openly gay man besides me. They both had vocal reactions. The producer in question scoffed at them, saying he had boxers on. This time I specifically refused to look because I didn't know how I was going to react. This producer is now a manager at a station in the Southwest and recently told me to send him a resume. Unfortunately he is straight and as good as married. Unless there's something he hasn't told me. Which could be entirely possible. But anyway.

Labels: Originally published

... Scribbled by Bill T ... 7/17/2004 02:15:00 PM ... Email this entry ...
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