My father's ring
he won it shooting craps in the Philippines at the end of World War II. I have almost nothing else from him (thanks for fucking nothing, mom...) so I treasure the hell out of that ring.
( Hairy Twatter is Angela Lansbury's alien love child., Sun 11 May 2008, 22:42, Reply)

Certainly not the beowulf DVD

I have just borrowed as it is shit, hence why I'm on the internet!
(NakedApe was watching a fish shit on, Sun 11 May 2008, 22:07, Reply)

Not as 'ard as I like to think it would seem
Thinking about this question this week I decided that most of my stuff could burn, assuming that the other half, kid and cat were safe.

However, I would like to rescue a few things from my childhood on reflection:

* A care-bear my dad bought me when I was about 3/4. As mentioned in a previous QOTW my dad was a bit of a wanker, and this is the only present he ever actually bought for me as a child (we saw him rarely and birthdays were usually celebrated with a phonecall advising that there was a tenner in my bank account for when I was older or some such shite).

* Pictures of my nanna. My nanna was quite simply ace. I'll tell you more about her in another more relevant QOTW, but I will want these photo's when I'm older and the memories are a bit less fresh.

* My nanna's christmas tree decorations. My nanna was crazy about Christmas, worse than any kid I've ever known, she had this extreme level of excitement from October every year, and had a large number of outdoor light up figures and such. She also had the same little wooden tree decorations on the tree every year for as long as I can remember. When she died we all got given one of the outdoor figures and some of the tree decorations. Putting the tree up now reminds me of that insane excitement.

The last item is not in my house sadly but one day I'll get it back. When I was in the last year of school I was living with my nanna for various reasons too lengthy to go into here, but she made me try at school (I hadn't been doing so for some time LOL). My final piece of art coursework consisted of a 13 week long project. I had just discovered the music of Bob Marley and the smoking of weed, so decided I would do a large charcoal drawing of the great Bob Marley for my final piece. I worked really hard, and I dragged my final grade up from a D to a B with it. It went on display in the hall at the end of the year, and then my mam asked for it for her room. It's still there now. It's this that means the most to me, she's still got in on show, some 12 years later. I'd hate to lose it, and ask her to give it back every now and again (she always refuses though).
(flyme, Sun 11 May 2008, 22:04, Reply)

my best friend's mug.
it says "50% cute, 50% bitch" on it.
her boyfriend gave it to me when she was killed in a car accident six years ago. it was her favourite mug, she would never let anyone else but me use it. it means a hell of a lot to me.

if i had enough time, i'd also rescue my autographed Terry Pratchett books.
( Smash Monkey lick, drink, lick, suck., Sun 11 May 2008, 19:58, Reply)

My clown
I would save Clown, my loyal knitted rag doll since birth. Fuck the family or the dogs.
(badfox1, Sun 11 May 2008, 18:54, Reply)

Gone a bit quiet on here, hasn't it?
Did everybody fail to save their computers from a blazing house fire or something..?






Yes, I know, the sun is shining and most of the UK except Wigan is in the grip of a heatwave. And also, people do have lives, with, it seems, the exception of rachelswipe who appears to be at work. What are you thinking, woman? Get to the pub, now! That's an order!
(Davros' Granddad member of the b3ta flappy coat club (est. 2008), Sun 11 May 2008, 18:19, 15 replies)

Timewaster
I just read the whole damn thread so far. I have assessed scripting work on Tuesday for Uni, I have an incredibly messy room to tidy, I missed watching a thunderstorm outside and I should be working on the game I'm helping develop (yay me, instaplug: www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/387592 was the flash version to get the idea out there, up for Game of the Year on Newgrounds).

The only thing that seems precious to me after this immense waste of time (apart from my Natalie, I'm at a loss when she's ten yards away from me, let alone lost to a fire...) is time itself.

We waste SO MUCH time in today's society, be it the interwebs or just sitting around doing nothing. I cannot remember where I heard it, but I always remember an analogy that was used to demerit the smoking of pot. It makes you ok with being bored, and this is the time that you should be spending learning a new skill or developing relationships etc.

Time is so precious and we seem to spend an awful lot of it doing sweet fuck all. I'm half way through tidying up now, done a bit of scripting and my missus is ok, just text her. I'm trying to make better use of my time and so should you all.

TLDR: My missus or my Ibanez Jem 7VWH
(knifeh and Mrs Knifeh discovered radioactive bacon!, Sun 11 May 2008, 16:33, 1 reply)

Laporida
I would have to say the Jessica Rabbit I bought my missus last week. As I mentioned in a QOTW previously, I'm a lazy cunt so keeping her happy with mechanical means allows me to just hold the thing in place whilst she does all the work.
That coupled with the vibrating bullet I rescued from an old device means she's happy maybe 2 or 3 times in 30mins and I get an enthusiastic handjob (or more) with precious little effort on my behalf.

However, it would kill the moment if it caught fire.

Ladies, buy a cheap latex vibe. split it open and remove the vibrating pod. You will not believe how much of the energy the rubber actually absorbs rather than being channeled into the bald man in a boat.
When turned up, it's actually difficult to hold onto it because it's that strong.
(Maudlin McCann spreading the Owstwecian word on, Sun 11 May 2008, 15:08, Reply)

air con
we spend most of the week at work whinging about how crap the air con is and how sweltering it is in our offices.

well.

now i am trying to work with the air con switched off altogether, i can say that even shit air con is the best invention ever. ugh. it's like my own private wet t-shirt contest in this sauna of an office.
( rachelswipe "fuck you, i won't do what you tell me...", Sun 11 May 2008, 14:09, 5 replies)

A new cherished possession


This shirt always gets me confused glances when I wear it around downtown. Guess there aren't enough "Fawlty Towers" fans around here...

(And yes, I'll tell you where I got it: www.cafepress.com/micto The image was created by our very own b3tard, mictoboy. Go support one of our fellows!)
(The Resident Loon my church practices the handling of trouser snakes, Sun 11 May 2008, 13:49, 1 reply)

My wedding video
Until I taped over it to tell my husband he was a cunt and I was leaving with the kids to save Springfield.
(DeadCats, Sun 11 May 2008, 9:18, Reply)

Well
Not strictly on topic, but it does have me saving a child from a burning building....

I rang in to work, one Monday morning, and left a message for my boss that I wouldn't be in as I'd broken my little finger and need to get it strapped up.

The next day I bounced into work with my broken finger strapped to my ring finger.

"OK Legless" says boss "How did you manage to do that?"

"I did it when I ran into a burning house to save a little girl"

"Really?" says boss looking impressed

"Nah - I was drunk on Sunday and tried to stab my little finger through three beer-mats...."


Cheers
(Legless Internet Ninja - We Own The Net, Sun 11 May 2008, 9:09, 1 reply)

I hate...
people who are always late for things

/*runs*
(Tepee, Sun 11 May 2008, 4:52, 1 reply)

Canvas
My most treasured possession is an oil painting of me in the buff. It was done some 12 years ago and was thrown in for free (the cheek!) when I purchsed my housemate's nude likeness for £20 from the guy who ran the life painting class that we both sat at.
It should embarass my grandchildren in years to come- but most importantly I know that the other painting I bought in the "deal" is now hung pride of place in her parent's house- when she had hidden it for a couple of years for fear of what they might say. She sadly died of bowel cancer at the age of 23. And what was "our" little secret in terms of taking our kit off for some extra cash as students and something I bought as a pisstake on her 21st is now something that is adored and on her parent's wall. It made for an interesting confession at the wake but I know that it was appreciated in the end.
(Miss Terry toed the line on, Sun 11 May 2008, 4:13, Reply)

Well...
I'm a rather unmaterialistic person (boring, i know), so if something of mine was destroyed, however valuable, I'd be annoyed, but I doubt i would give it too much thought.

Friends and family I would do any and everything to save. Also, though I am a bad tempered cynic day in and day out, I like to think I have some good in me which would compel me to save an unkown person from a burning building, even at cost of my own life.

Judge me at your leisure.
(Stauve, Sun 11 May 2008, 2:50, Reply)

The one thing I treasure above all else
would have to be my blankie.
I'm 19, and have had this thing since day one.
I even brought it with me to finals before coming home from college.
It's been with me through everything. In fact, I have it here with me now.
So if my house catches fire, I'm ready to run for the hills.
(Keylynn, Sun 11 May 2008, 2:47, Reply)

its actually funny you mention buildings burning down
i came to university a mild mannered fresher just last september.

since that time, there have been endless fire drills. each time, the drills are at 6:30 in the morning to ensure that most people are around to participate in the fire drill.

with each time, everyone takes longer to get out of bed and get outside if at all.

the people who own the accommodation notice the lack of students jumping out of bed and running outside in their dressing gowns and plan more fire drills to improve response times.

one day, my flat will burn down. i will not be leaping up and salvaging my most treasured possession. i will not be going to each door and hammering on it. i will not be dashing outside my flat to watch the flames licking at the buildings.

i will be snuggled up in bed as smoke begins to pour into my room to suffocate me.
(fakeplasticwateringcan, Sun 11 May 2008, 1:02, 4 replies)

Sad as it sounds...
My most treasured possession is my long deceased father's 1960 MkII Jaguar convertible. Yes, Morse's car.

Good for the 'ladeeeze', my Texan fiance loves it, But a pain to maintain - and drive (don't turn too fast, you'll need new pants).

I've even gone as far as buying a lathe and learning how to mill my own parts to keep this thing on the road. Goddam Lucas electrics, what an effing pain.

Thankfully the insurance is cheap. And most Gardas love me since I've let most of them drive it at some point ;)

Oh yes, I also own a silver pocket watch belonging to my great grandfather. I normally dress like its the 1930s and wear it everyday. Yes, that is odd for a .Net developer, but acceptable for Dublin.
(Grundie, Sun 11 May 2008, 1:01, 3 replies)

Section bending.
My most treasured possession is the welding test piece I did when I was spending a winter out of the cold. It's a piece of steel, cut out of a handwelded plate, polished and bent across the weld through 180 degrees. You can see the grain of the weld, and it's the one perfect work of my hands.

In our house it's called the Luck, it always points outward, and it was the first piece of cold iron our daughter touched when she was born.

There's no pagan beliefs like the ones you invent yourself.
(all my scars face forward doesn't think it should look like that, Sat 10 May 2008, 23:57, 2 replies)

my house
is my treasured possession
i have no idea how i would save it if a fire broke out if i was asleep
(strangeboy123 *ahem* Sex XD, Sat 10 May 2008, 21:57, Reply)

Watch or Book?
I'd save a wristwatch given to my dad to give to me by the late King Hussein of Jordan. It has the royal seal on it and everything. However I'll only really get it until i'm 21. Buggers.

That, or my dedicated copy of evil, much loathed ex-PM Margaret Thatcher's autobiography. Even if she was evil, it'll still be worth a few bob or two in later years
(Chanter216, Sat 10 May 2008, 21:12, Reply)

Pipe
I'd take the pipe that my friend made for me for my eighteenth birthday.

It's basically a hollow lump of wood with a slightly bent metal tube stuck into it that took him all of ten minutes to make, and I suspect that trying to actually smoke it would be a significant folly, possibly of the magnitude of taking the retreating army's uncommonly generous gift of a wooden horse into your city, but that's really not the point.

I mentioned in passing that I'd like a pipe, and he made me one. A bit gay, maybe, but really very funny, and nice, and above and beyond the call of duty.

Possibly not an entirely earnest answer, but then what did you expect?
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Sat 10 May 2008, 20:58, Reply)

It has to be..
.. my small piece of grass from the banks of The Chocolate River from Charlie and the Chocolate factory (Jonny Depp version...)

When i got it i called my mate, excitedly told her and she asked "Does it smell or taste of chocolate!!?"

...I was halfway across the room to check before i realised what i was doing was mildy pointless...


Length? About 12" by 5"...
(By George I Think He's Got It! Cheating on the missus..., Sat 10 May 2008, 20:32, Reply)

My pussy
and my souvenirs from Club 33, the secret private club at Disneyland.
( cynfulcynner is the Stig!, Sat 10 May 2008, 20:04, Reply)

Nothing remotely "funny" for this thread ...
...but I would save my research and manuscript for my book - www.paullee.com/book_details.php
(Wrecked Tums, Sat 10 May 2008, 19:58, 1 reply)

My Buddhist Monk certificate.
As well as My Patrick Stewart signed photo and my enlightenment. If only I could find that.
( Uncle Gilmour still lives in a lazy fair laissez faire style on, Sat 10 May 2008, 19:54, Reply)

Thinking about it....
...it would be the ring made of perspex retrieved from the Heinkel 111 that my grandfather shot down in WWII.

...And 'cos I was thinking about it, I went to look for it...and I CAN'T FIND IT ANYWHERE!!!!
(The Fifth Elephant, Sat 10 May 2008, 19:49, 1 reply)

My great great great great grandfathers gold pocket watch.
And my weed: if my house burnt down, I'd want a smoke.

That is all.
( Edenmonster, Sat 10 May 2008, 18:19, Reply)

If your going to believe the rumors
then yes my stuffed camel.
(shake'n'bake Refuses to pay into the b3ta drinking fund, Sat 10 May 2008, 17:24, Reply)

Paper
I've been thinking about this one over the last couple of days. And the expression "You never know how much you'll miss something until it's gone"

Let's get the obvious stuff out of the way. I would obviously remove my various financial documents and my computer from the fire, between them I've got pretty much most of what I need, the rest can be replaced on insurance. That takes care of the essentials.

But as for the other stuff? That needs a story.

About three years ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. The symptoms were very similar to those of stomach ulcers at first, so it didn't get diagnosed immediately. She was in her early eighties at the time, so health problems at that age aren't really that unlikely. She'd always been the grandparent that I'd been closest to, growing up, and though I was lucky enough to know all four of my grandparents she was clearly the best. The longest-lived too, as she was the last one alive.

And it was then that I realised that yes... she was going to die. All of my other grandparents had died when I was younger than 12, and it didn't really hit me at the time. Subconciously, I thought that she'd be around forever, even though my logical mind knew that wasn't true. She was stoic about it. And I started writing to her. I'd never done that before, previously we'd chatted on the phone now and again, and every time I went home from university to see my family I always went to see her too. But never writing before. We sent messages back and forth, hers beautifully handwritten... mine typed on a computer purely because my handwriting is atrocious. And it was good. We got to know each other better over those three years than we ever had before.

I didn't throw out any letters she sent to me. I didn't read them again after the first time I read them, but it just didn't feel right to throw them out. They're all over my bedroom in various misc places. She went through a bout of being really really ill, lost a lot of weight and ended up looking skeletal, the chemotherapy not doing much either. But the cancer went into remission and she pulled through for a time. And lasted another year, though gradually getting weaker and frailer. And still remained mentally alert and strong through it all, despite three strokes. She kept her mind until the day before she died, when she was in a morphine daze.

Near the end, she walked into the hospital on her own power, and that was the last time she walked. She was shipped to the hospice after that, and I talked to her the last time two days before she died. I got to tell her that I loved her and that she'd been a wonderful grandmother, and she heard me. 48 hours later, she was gone, only a few days before Christmas. She was the first person I loved who died when I was actually old enough and mature enough to understand death and exactly what it meant. The first time I cried as an adult. And I got to see the uglier side of it too, all the endless organising, bureaucracy, and sorting out paperwork, legalities, funeral arrangements as well as the obvious physical side of things.

The memories I've got of her aren't going anywhere. And I have photos of her and the family stored on servers so backups aren't a problem. But the letters? They're what I'd take out with me, I think. I'm not sure I'll ever read them again. But they're a reminder of the connection we had, that was just me and her. My mother told me how happy she was whenever she got a letter, and I'd glad that I was able to help her in that way. Even now, six months later, I think about chatting to her, and it takes me half a second to realise that I can't do that any more. The letters remind me to really treasure what you have because it can just go.

Sorry for being all sappy.
(calamarain is at http://angband.calamarain.net/, Sat 10 May 2008, 15:41, 2 replies)