Animal
I used to live with a complete animal. Think I may have posted this before.

He was a born again Christian with the belief that nothing would harm him unless it was God's will, and if it was God's will, then it couldn't be avoided anyway and was his due. He didn't see the point in the most basic of human hygiene as "illness was punishment from God".

So he didn't wash. Ever. Neither himself, not his clothes but more crucially for this story, the dishes. He was a mental. A really smelly mental.

In the kitchen on the side was his "washing up bowl". A washing up bowl filled with water on the first day of term, with a lid, in which he'd periodically "soak" his plates for an hour or two to remove any food detritus. He'd then wipe his plates on his t-shirt and re-use them.

Our flat started to smell like fungal growth on a tramps' bell end, so naturally, something had to be done.

When I prised the lid off this bowl (having drawn straws and lost), I was faced with a gloopy, layered and coloured substance that looked like the rings of Saturn. Except with more carrots. I was immediately sick into the bowl, as was my housemate.

We managed to carry the bowl outside, periodically vomiting on ourselves as we went, then left it outside with a note on the lid saying "do not open".

We then spent the rest of the afternoon watching curious passers by open the lid to look inside, with about a 50/50 vomit to non-vomit ratio.

Happy days.
( rofl harris, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 10:59, 3 replies)

thats fucking disgusting
yet truly fucking awesome (well, the end part anyway)
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 11:48, closed)

I physically dry-retched myself, reading that.
(caescarna Hell's Roomba, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 14:29, closed)

This really needs an "I don't like this but have a click anyway" button...
(Legion, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 23:26, closed)