It’s that time again, where you share a little bit too much about yourself with thousands of strangers.  To read about everyone else’s horror stories, go to LiLu’s TMI Thursday page.

Back in high school, I had this obsession with disco balls.  I’m not really sure why – maybe because I always wanted to be able to live in the 70s.  A little over a year into our relationship, T bought me a disco ball for my birthday that looked sort of like this, minus the spotlight:


I thought it was the coolest thing ever!  I never hung it on my ceiling, and instead kept it sitting on my bed.  I had this crazy huge headboard that had a ledge to put things on as well as sliding doors that I could put stuff in.  It was pretty handy.  And so the disco ball sat there.

One afternoon, T came over to my house to hang out.  Since my parents weren’t home, we decided to sneak upstairs for a little nookie.  We were doing our business and suddenly something went very painfully wrong.

T was on the bottom, with his head near the headboard.  Since we were in the throes of passion, the headboard was rocking (so don’t come a knocking – haha).  What I wasn’t noticing was that the little disco ball was inching closer and closer to the edge.

All of a sudden I heard a crash-thud, and a little yelp.  I opened my eyes to see the discoball,  with real glass mini-mirrors, had landed right on T’s face.  Naturally I freaked out.  His forehead was red and puffy.  There were little shards of glass on his face and eyelashes.  He was actually bleeding a little too.  I stopped to lean over and make sure he wasn’t seriously hurt and to wipe of his face.  And do you know what he said to me?  Don’t stop, keep going!  Guys will let nothing get in the way of their grand finale.  So, we moved the disco ball and kept going.

Afterward, we went to the bathroom so he could get a better look at his poor face.  He wasn’t banged up too bad, but you could definitely tell something had hit him in the face.  Of course as we were inspecting his injuries, my mom came home from work.  T started to freak out a bit since he knew my mom would notice his puffy forehead (she always notices the littlest things).  And that’s when I came up with the greatest story ever.

We told my mom that T was trying to be funny and bounce me off the bed, so he did a flying leap that caused the disco ball to fly off the ledge and hit him in the face.  She showed some concern, but definitely had a laugh at poor T’s expense.  I’m pretty sure she bought the story, but years later I told her what really happened.  And that made her laugh even more.

After that little incident, the disco ball ended up with a new home – my dresser.