Too Much Information

Somewhere in Alaska lives a gentleman who has no idea who I am and that I know way too much information about him. I met his friend at the grocery store this evening; we were in adjacent check-out lines and both finished making our purchases at about the same time. The friend mistook my cart for his and started to wheel it away. I stopped him by saying, "Oh, I don't think you want my husband's colonoscopy prep." (The "prep" was in a plastic bag at the front of the cart.) He took his hands off my cart, hesitated for a moment and then said, "I have a friend in Alaska who had one of those and he feels so much better now, and he doesn't mind the bag at all." At this point, I realized that the man thought I meant a colostomy (colon removal) instead of a colonoscopy (colon examination). He proceeded, "After he got the bag, he went to a doctor to have a prostate exam, but when the doctor saw that my friend had a "bag," the surprised doctor asked, 'What is that?' My friend told him about his procedure, and the doctor said, 'We're done here,' and left the room without doing the prostate exam."

I wonder if someone some place in the world knows too much information about me.