Too Much Information.

I like Regina, I really do.

She is the nurse at the office where I work. She and I are nearly the same age; I am two days older than she is. She has been a nurse forever, worked for the VNA for years and then decided that she wanted something low stress, so came to work for us.

Regina is nice looking. She wears those kid friendly nurses outfits with smurfs and Bob the builder on them. She talks a mile a minute, is an extraordinary cook (she bakes often and brings things to our staff lounge like red velvet cake and white chocolate coated pretzels) and she is up on current events.

Regina has one small problem though. She gives out too much information about her life.

This was why I blanched when she drug me into the lounge because she wanted to show me something. Those were her exact words:

Come in here. I have something to show you.

The last time she said those words to me, I was forced to look at her swollen gums.

She has lots of ailments. She has "'roids". They are pretty much what you think. It is with great relief that I tell you that she has never asked me to take a gander at them. She is on blood thinners, so she bruises quite easily and often shows me large purple bruises that are huge and unsightly. She once tore one of her toe nails clean off and actually took off her sock to show me it.

And she tends to do this during lunch.

Regina also talks a lot, as I said. And I mean A FUCKING LOT. I know more about her family than my own. Regina has a next door neighbor with whom I feel as if I could be on a first name basis. I can tell you that her name is Phyllis, that she has bad arthritis and can barely walk, a full grown son who is so lazy that he can't even come shovel her walk when it snows and so Regina's high school sons do it. I know that Phyllis used to be a kindergarten teacher and a single mom. And it doesn't stop there. I know details about Regina's son who is a junior in high school that he would probably not want me to know. For example, I know that he once looked up french kissing on u-tube to learn how to do it and she thought that was so funny that she told a whole table of us about it. I know that her younger son weighs 200 pounds and that she takes him to Weight Watchers.

But, mostly...I know things about Trent, Regina's husband. When I see him, I feel like blushing because Regina is pretty open about the fact that they have a really exciting sex life. I know that he really loves blow jobs but is not reliable at reciprocating. I know that once he came out of the shower with only a towel on and gave Regina a lap dance.

And then I have to see him at functions or when he picks her up. He looks exactly like Fred Mertz. So, then I do what most people would do: I picture him in my head giving Regina a lap dance.

And it is not pretty.

I tend to think that the truth is that none of us look all that great having sex unless we are actors in a movie. The truth is that sex is a lot about flesh slapping together and grunting noises and seriously, who wants to see a close up of two people who aren't Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt french kissing?

Regina told me just last week that she and Trent had sex in their garage.

In -8 degree weather.

They had been shoveling snow together and Trent got the bright idea that he wanted a blow job in their garage.

"So, well...you know me...I'm always up for something new and fun...I just gave him one," she said, casually flipping her hair back.

I was so aghast that I couldn't even speak. When I did manage to squeak out a response it was only to say, "But...but, but...it was SO cold out, Regina!"

"Tell me about it, sister," she answered.

Then she went on to say that they had did it towards the back of their garage so that they couldn't really be seen from the street and that...get this...

She wore one of those ski masks where you have holes for your eyes, nose and mouth.

Ok. Take a few moments here. Picture it. Fred Mertz in the back of a garage getting a blow job from a woman in a black ski mask.

Piper, a co-worker who had been eating lunch with us (yes, she told this story during LUNCH), managed to blurt out, "But, wouldn't his...well, his um...penis get a little chilly?"

Regina said that no, it hadn't been a problem. After all, it had been in a nice warm receptacle.

End of conversation. Piper and I practically knocked each other down trying to leave the room.

The thing is...Regina honestly has no idea whatsover that this might be TOO MUCH INFORMATION. Or as Piper told me later:

"I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LOOK TRENT IN THE EYE AGAIN. A SKI MASK? A FREAKIN" SKI MASK, MARIA!"

Me either. But now I have a new picture to replace it.

When Regina pulled me into the lounge, she yanked down her top and one side of her bra to show me a HUGE blue greenish bruise on her left breast. I took one look and shrank back because we all know that when women see this kind of thing, it makes their own breasts hurt.

I asked her what in the good hell happened to her.

This is her story and it is a doozy.

"Well, you know how we have all that snow? Well, over Christmas break, Trent and I decided to take the boys and some of their friends sledding. So, we got to Memorial Park and we just watched them for awhile but it looked so fun! So, Trent and I decided that we would join them and go down a few times. So, we got on the boy's new sled, me in the front and Trent behind me. He had his arms around me and just as we started down, he put his hand inside of my coat accidentally and I think he thought he was squeezing my arm or something, but he had a hold of my boob! And he was squeezing it hard with his hand in a leather glove! I screamed like a banshee all the way down the hill and when I asked him why he did that, he said that yes, he thought it was my arm and that I had been screaming because it was so fun to go down so fast!"

Well. Hush up.

I could think of nothing to say, especially after she said that when they got home, Trent suggested that she put a raw steak on her breast to keep it from swelling and bruising up. I didn't have the nerve to ask her if she did that for fear that she would say that not only did it take the swelling down, but it made for a great sex toy too.

I didn't know what to say, so I just grabbed Piper as she walked by and said, "Regina has something interesting to show you."

I have no idea why Regina does not seem to have a censor within herself. Furthermore, I thought I was a free spirit until I met Regina.

I can honestly say that in a million years, Bing would never, ever ask me to go down on her in -8 degree weather in our garage. Wearing a ski mask.

Here I thought I was this gutsy, plucky broad because I had sex once in an airplane bathroom when I was in my early twenties. (And like most stupid things, it was NOT all that fun..I think I pulled a hamstring.)

Regina and Trent probably already have me beat. They probably did it in their airplane seats, under a blanket.

Now, theoretically, I would never think that I could like someone like Regina. But, she is the one who is always on the lookout for great new coffee for me to try. She brings it to work and makes it and watches my face happily as I take my first sip. When Liv has to come back to work with me after school once in awhile, I often find Regina staying late to play checkers or hang man with her while they wait for me to finish up with my last appointment of the day. As I said, Regina is an incredible baker. But, did I tell you that she bakes cakes for each of us on our birthdays? And not just plain old chocolate cakes. No. These cakes have jelly bean tops or are three decker with icing in the middle. No sheet pans for her cakes. She only does layer.

She brings in coats, hats and mittens frequently to put in our clothes bin for our needy families. NEW coats, hats and mittens. And fancy scarves.

The children who visit our office love her because she doesn't talk baby talk to them but she takes a deep interest in them and remembers their names every time and what their favorite tv shows are.

Regina is pretty remarkable.

But, um. Yeah. She volunteers too much information.

YOU try getting that picture of William Frawley getting a blow job in a garage from a woman in a black ski mask.

See?