My world is full of way too much information. Case in point. I am a blogger. That is the epitome of TMI right there. I am shamelessly contributing to the chasm of useless ponderings and egomaniacal self-disclosure. For no good reason other than to rid myself of the information and to push it onto your plate. There it is. Do with it what you will.
Exhibit 1: Why did my twelve year old child, Red Bull, casually work the phrase “cracked out” into dinner conversation last night? TMI. And lest you worry, he is learning about the neurological effects of addictive substances as part of his science curriculum at school. I think.
Exhibit 2: Why does my mother want me to call more often? To share turbo-TMI. Not going to do it.
Exhibit 3: Why do people read Eonline and comment on articles about the Kardashians? Because they are terribly, terribly bored. And, they are addicted to TMI.
Exhibit 4: What about the nice lady at Starbucks who overshares all you ever needed to know about her husband’s prostate, her gluten free diet, her displeasure with, um, everything. Too. Much. Info. Yeah, I said it.
Exhibit 5: And my sweet, cherubic, doe-eyed six year old, Sprite. She know the lyrics to “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred? Well that’s just bad parenting coupled with her technological mastery of my ipod. And she can sure lay down a nice samba. Honestly, her older siblings were forced to listen to nothing but “C is for Cookie” and “Farmer in the Dell” until they were eight and ten years old. Then, one day, they discovered there was an actual radio in the car.
Exhibit 6: Facebook. I rest my case.
After resisting the irresistible pull of Facebook for years, I have finally pulled up my britches and hurled myself into the black hole of TMI. And I don’t mind telling you that in the first two days I have more than doubled my cache of friends. I had six yesterday, so that cashes me in at a baker’s dozen today. Already, I couldn’t be more bored with it. Though some of those high school outcasts (me among them) are looking much better than I thought they might (not me). And they have cats. And children. And links. And Likes. And Tweets. And that, my friends, is just too much information.