b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Hoarding » Popular | Search
This is a question Hoarding

Willenium says: I had to bring some floppy disks into work which I had been saving for 10 years "in case I might need them". Tell us when your hoarding skills have come in useful (or not, as the case may be)

(, Thu 3 May 2012, 14:03)
Pages: Popular, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Stuff in the dark
Like any right-thinking human, I fucking hate lofts.
Our loft is a terrible place. The house has been in my partner’s family for almost a century, and the loft bears witness to that. It is a black and cluttered affair, full of artefacts, spiders, fear and nonsense.

My latest and worst loft experience happened just two weeks’ ago. I was on paternity leave (we have a son!) and my recovering missus suddenly remembered that British Gas were coming round the following day to lay down loft insulation. This is free, with the proviso that you put down boards first, so that any stuff that’s up there has something to sit on. We’d bought the boards weeks previously, but now they had to be laid.

I was struck equally by nervousness and a crushing sense of duty. I sloped off outside, and returned with the stepladder, lamp and drill. My palms were moist, and my passive-aggressive muttering intense. “Dunno why we can’t just fucking pay someone to do it … fucking loft … full of shit … oh, NOTHING DEAR.”

Up the stairs, ladder unfolded, hatch unlocked and gingerly pushed aside, and in I went.

We live in a terrace – the loft is a shared space with our absent neighbour. He has chronic OCD, so the bits and bobs he stores up there are ruthlessly organised and scant in number.
Our side, however, is a fucking disgrace. Like the British Museum had a wank in a cobweb. Ancient chests jostle for space with stacks of 80s mixtapes and giant wicker seats. Binbags full of awful clothes block every rafter. And the only thing my shit lamp illuminates is what’s directly or imminently underfoot. And of course, there’s that eerie silent draught peculiar to lofts everywhere.

Let’s be clear here – I am a creature of the office. My hands are a running joke amongst my more capable friends, unsullied as they now are by the marks of labour. My fingers have become delicate, typing affairs; my slender wrists unencumbered by veins or gristle. In short, I have no place in a DIY situation, and certainly don’t belong in a pitch-black nostalgia dumping ground with 18 wooden boards and a drill I can’t fucking work.

Up drifted my lady’s voice – “Just be careful up there! And can you have a look for my breast pump?”


Inhaling great black lungfuls of dust and fibreglass, I began feebly disturbing the ageing piles of junk. Carefully, of course. I wouldn’t want to slip on all this shit and …


Before the intense pain and shame kicked in, my first thought as I plummeted through the ceiling with the grime from a century of bric-a-brac was – “So this really does happen to some wankers.”

Never found that breast pump, and paid a friend to finish the job. I’m through with lofts.

Pic in replies.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 15:26, 27 replies)
Tea and Toilet Paper.

My Nan was a nightmare for hoarding (after she died, we found 183 bottles of Yardley's Liquid Soap in the top cupboard of her wardrobe). She'd keep bags and bags of paper clips and elastic bands and clothes pegs that were never used and never thrown away. If there was ever less than 10 tins of Corned Beef in the pantry, she'd be straight down the shops as soon as lunch was over to stock up. It was in her blood. And by God I loved her for it, beacause as a child it was a joy. You know when they make things on Blue Peter and your Mum says 'Oh, i don't have any old toilet rolls, sorry'?. Never a problem at Nan's house, there was a carrier bag of them in the cupboard under the stairs. Needed buttons for eyes on a sock puppet? What type? White? Blue? Black? Four holes or two? Or do you want these toggle type things? Maybe these tortoise shell ones?. 'Nan, can we bake a cake?' Not a problem, we were never going to go to the cupboard and find that we had no icing sugar, or baking soda, or chopped walnuts, almonds, hazel nuts, brazil nuts. Hundreds & Thousans or sugar sprinkles? or would you prefer silver balls and sugar daisies? Glace cherries or candied lemon and orange slices? There was never anything she didn't have to hand. But, and this was by far the best of all, as a 10 year old boy, there is no joy like you and your younger brother building massive dens out of 50 4-packs of Andrex Toilet Paper and 100 boxes of Sainsbury's own brand loose leaf tea at either end of the kitchen/dining room, before seeing who could be the first to knocking the other one down by rolling tin after tin of Heniz Baked Beans or Campbell's Cream of Chicken soup at each other.

Nan, for your hoarding tendancies and a childhood of such ridiculous happiness, I thank you.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 16:55, 6 replies)
My Mum is a hoarder
My little Australian family recently paid a visit to ze fatherland (aka Kent). The weather was a bit chilly for my little ones, so grandma dug out a coat for her grandson:
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 14:42, 6 replies)
My son
Year ago, i spent a few weeks working in Brighton. My son stayed with my parents, and when back home - I would try to explain to what was then a 3yr old, where I had been. So I brought back a few of the pebbles from the beach and some shells, so he could smell the seaside and feel the stones from the beach.

This must have triggered something in his little brain that (any) rocks were significant. For weeks and months afterwards I remember regularly walking past peoples houses and seing him putting stones he thought were pretty or significant into his pockets (pebble driveways were a nightmare) Each time we would get home we would have more stones in his pockets, none of them particularly pretty or interesting.

5 years later and Im cleaning out my car. I was jamming the hoover attachment down the side of his seat. I could count say 10 or 11 medium pebbles sucking up the tube into the hoover... then i went to open the boot and found several more as well as two branches, and a large block of flint.

I doubt he remembers he even picked them up.... But this isnt the hoarding bit...

Ive kept them all..

Because one of them may be significant to him.
(, Tue 8 May 2012, 14:59, 16 replies)
Special offers
My father-in-law cannot resist special offers in supermarkets. So if there's 3-for-2 on toothpaste he'll buy 15 packets. Same with soap, toilet roll, shampoo, deodorant, pasta, rice, and pretty much anything non-perishable. He used to have a big family around so I guess it made sense, but now they've all moved away, so he's still got most of the stuff around when the next 3-for-2 offer comes around, but he just can't resist it.

We went to stay there a few months ago, and I opened the wardrobe to unpack our clothes. It was completely jam-packed with toiletries. The bathroom cabinet was packed. The kitchen cupboards were packed. You could hardly move for multi-packs of toilet roll in the garage.

I asked him if they never had special offers on beer or wine at his supermarket. "Come in here lad", he said, and opened the door of the office, which was packed from floor to ceiling with cases of beer and boxes of wine. "Suppose you'd better help me drink it", he said. Not a bad bloke, my father-in-law.
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 10:01, 1 reply)
'Robocop 3', anybody?...

Like many of you sweet B3tards out there, my house holds a number of PC’s Laptops, and electronic devices.

That’s not strange, and before you run away thinking ‘holy buggerflaps’, this is going to be one of those dreary ‘Ooh. look at all the retro IT shit I have in my loft’ posts, that makes you want to cut off your own nipples and post them to a local Wildebeast...let me stop you there. No, this is not one of them.

This is worse.

The present Mrs Cheeky and my two mini cheekies like watching TV shows and movies. Of course we do. However, due to our hectic schedules we rarely get to see them at their designated broadcast time, so I invariably find my self downloading them to watch at our convenience. Being a caring husband and father, sometimes I will get shows or Movies that I think we ‘might’ like. Occasionally one, or all of us will take a liking to a programme, and we’ll look forward to watching the whole season. I know, this shit is so mundane and normal that you’re most likely confused as to what the quantum leaping fuck I’m twattering on about.

Well, to cope with the increasing demand of the family’s televisual requirements, I purchased a server. Nowt too grand, just a little old Dell unit that was powered by coal and gerbils, and was booted up by a combination of gentle encouragement and a crank handle in the front. I stuck a couple of Terabytes in it, and promptly started to fill it up with crap…

And fill it…and fill it...and fucking fill it.

Now I’m pushing 6TB, and the poor old warhorse is veritably straining at the gizzards with the utmost bollocks the likes of which will never be seen again in our house. Now, having every single episode of Blackadder / Fawlty Towers and Monty Python are worthwhile to have – They’re timeless classics and we find ourselves regularly going back to them. But every episode of ‘Flash Forward’? Really? Does anyone even remember that anymore? Why is it there?

Every episode of ‘Lost’. I guarantee, we will NEVER go back and watch that fucker again from the beginning. But there it is…just in case…

And movies...yup, the Star Wars collection (including the garbage Holiday special) are there for keeps. ‘Batman Begins’, yes, but ‘Batman and Robin’? Noooo. Why in the name of Blithering ballsacks do I want to keep ‘Night at the museum 2’ and ‘Bedtime Stories’ with Adam ‘shitcake’ Sandler? I even have every.single.’Carry On’ Movie FFS.

It’s so easy – it’s one button. It’s called ‘Delete’. Why don’t I use it? Why do I keep buying Hard drive after Hard drive to cope with the useless dismal shit that I insist on storing forever, just in case I get a hankering for watching reruns of ‘Mr Sunshine’? I can’t explain it. I know it’s preposterously stupid, I know it’s wrong….and I suppose as far as OCD goes it could be a lot worse, but I just find it so difficult to rid myself of something after I have expended 8 seconds of my life to download it.

I even back it all up *facepalms*. I’d say ‘help me’, but quite clearly I am beyond any help. Just leave me here, I’ll only slow you down…
(, Tue 8 May 2012, 10:30, 27 replies)
Mmmm. Function room.
I used to live in a pub which had 3 floors not including the cellar. From the outside the building looked huge but inside everything was cramped. My Mun and Dad once looked into taking out a floor to make a massive function room. When they tore up the floor they found another floor sandwiched in between floors 2 and 3. It really only consisted of one log thin room but inside it was 100s and 100s of fake ration books from WW2, loads of stockings and chocolates, and tinned foods. We uncovered a spivs Alladins cave.
(, Mon 7 May 2012, 22:10, 4 replies)
My middle name should be "It might come in handy one day"
I'm a terrible, inveterate hoarder, of anything which might be useful for DIY / repairs / creative projects. I do actually use the stuff, too; I have a shit memory in general, but if I need to find that bit of odd-shaped spring steel I found in the gutter in 1993, I can probably locate it.

Also like others here, I can't bear to see working tech thrown away. Now, I used to be very interested in home video (steady on), back in the 80s and 90s. Around 1993 I started to get given old VCRs - Betamax and the like - by friends who knew I liked them. Lovely old machines, built like battleships and full of grinding gears and twanging springs. I began to notice more, in junk shops, skips and even dumped in the street. It seemed that, about ten years after VHS had won the Great Format War, the nation was finally having a clear out. I couldn't stand to see these wonderful old dinosaurs ending up in landfill.

My flat started to fill up, especially once I started to try to hunt down the earliest or weirdest ones. And eBay didn't help. These days I don't tend to acquire them, mainly because I've got all the ones that I think are important to make a meaningful collection. I have around 80 of the damn things -- in a dedicated shed, as they're banned from the house!

Due to my website I've also accidentally become an expert - the go-to guy when the media want to know about early video. I've been countless newspapers, magazines, appeared on radio, TV and even been referenced by the government and consulted on feature films. All the old video tech in "Son Of Rambow" was from my shed, for example.

I've debated posting this, because a) I don't want to sound like a complete nerd (anoraknophobia), and b) it's now fairly easy to track me down on the web. Ah well.

I do have a life, really. With real women in it, too.
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 16:45, 6 replies)
My great gran was an epic horder but my favourite find after she died
was a small box labelled "Bits of string too small to be of any use"
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 13:54, 4 replies)
Charlie lived about three doors from Dave's family home
And Charlie was some kind of relative - Dave's Mum's older second cousin, something like that.

Charlie had been a local legend. He built his own TV set so he and his amateur athlete wife could watch the 1956 Olympics from Melbourne, no matter that the nearest transmitters were hundreds and hundreds of kilometers away, he made it work, according to Dave's Mum. If you wanted your radio, public address system or commercial two way system fixed, he was your man. TV? No worries.

His wife died suddenly in the late 1950s and Charlie went a bit funny. He started building amateur radio equipment, masses of it, and he started to hoard. Not paper, old supermarket bags, tin cans and such rubbish, tools. Heaven knows how much he spent over the years.

Charlie died in 1998. Dave phoned me a few weeks later and said there was to be a sale of Charlie's stuff one Saturday and would I like to came as a buyer. I'd never been inside the house, didn't know what to expect. Walls in three different rooms were solid radio equipment, all hand built, all sprayed that pale grey you used to see on professional gear. All of it used valves (vacuum tubes). I'm no expert on this but from a few loose units you could see it was beautifully made, not a blob of solder out of place, the steel chassis had been expertly cut out and fitted together, not a gap or a sharp tag in sight.

The house, apart from a surfeit of obsolete but classic VHF and UHF gear was fairly clear. But then we went down to the garage. Lathes, milling machines, nibblers, those things for bending sheet steel nicely, I don't even know what they are called. welding gear, soldering irons, bicycles that Dave said that Charlie built from tubing.

Unopened packages of drills and small tools with prices in pounds, shillings and pence. Australia adopted dollars and cents in February 1966. I got sets of drills and a set of screwdrivers, at least 30 years old and never out of the packets.
(, Sat 5 May 2012, 23:56, 2 replies)
there was this one time I went to Amsterdam on a.........Oh hoarding :(
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 14:09, 3 replies)
un intentional hoarding
Shortly before I moved out of my mum and dads house a few years back, my mum decided to do a 'clean' by which i mean she goes through each room in the house and turns it upside down.

I had moved back to my mum and dads for aboa few months previous, and had been out trying to sort out my mortgage.

I walked through the door and instantly noticed an atmosphere. My dad called me into the living room, with a look of disgust on his face.

"go up stairs, and sort that mess out, we found it under your bed" was all he said. I was confused, I didnt own any porn (except that on my laptop) so with a smirk on my face, I headed upstairs. There on the bed was a asda bag. Budgling and tightly tied at the top. what ever was in it, was just small enough in volume to fit in it.

It was very light, and soft.

I opened it up. straight away i knew what it was, and was slightly surprised all of it was mine.

Inside was several hundred pieces of stiff stuck together tissues.

I was seriously surprised, I had normally flushed away the evidence, but the odd one or two i would stuff under my bed to flush away the next day, perhaps i had done this more than my memory was telling me i had.
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 13:25, 6 replies)
A tale of two lofts
A few winters ago, I discovered that the council not only subsidised loft insulation, but would come and fit it for you; and I decided to avail myself of this bounty. They told me to make sure the space was clear and accessible. Not having been into the space before that point, I could see no reason why it wouldn't be clear. After all: providing access required that I cut a new hatch. No previous access must imply there being nothing to shift, surely?

Or not. In the loft-space were bags and bags' worth of lath and plaster waste. Maybe this had been left by the builders. Maybe. But the builders wouldn't also have left several bags of wallpaper stripping, or an inflatable paddling-pool. Rather than take this stuff to the bin, a previous owner had plainly decided that it's be much less bother to leave this stuff in the loft, and then seal it all in. It took my dad and me all day to shift it.

And then I moved house. The new place was a fixer-upper, and - once again - I decided that now was a good time to get loft insulation done. This time, there was a loft-hatch; but it was at the time small, and there was no ladder. The insulation guy struggled up to pop his head through the hatch, and shone a torch.
"There's a bit of rubbish up here," he said. "You'll have to shift it before we can do anything."
No problem. With only a small hatch and no latter, there couldn't be much. The previous owner had been elderly and infirm, too, so wouldn't have been able to shift a great deal up there. And one of the things the builders were about to do was to make the hatch bigger, with a ladder, and to wire in some light up there. Like I said: not a problem.

I should have known better. Ladder and light installed, I ventured up.

I still don't know how so much crap could have been stored up there and not fallen through the ceiling of the rooms below. There were piles of old clothes, old eiderdowns, a the components of a broken radiogram, cutlery, a couple of carpets, crockery and glassware, book after book of schematics for 1960s kit-cars, and a couple of wardrobes - among much else.

Having expected to be able to clear the loft in a couple of trips to the tip, it was clear that that was simply not going to be possible. It'd take five, ten, maybe more. And I'd still be left with the bits of wardrobe: even dismantled, I'd struggle to get them into the back of a Punto.

This was going to need a skip. Pricey, perhaps: but less faff, and I was prepared to take the hit.

The rubbish from a loft with - remember - a small access hatch and no ladder almost filled an 8-cubic-yard container. By the time I'd finished the task, there were several carrier bags' worth of dust clinging to me: I looked like I'd just escaped from Pompeii. When the loft was finally cleared, I swear I heard the whole house sigh in relief. I think it might have risen a few inches up from its foundations, too.
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 9:47, Reply)
Does anyone else do this?
1. Get some toiletry e.g. shower gel/moisturiser/shampoo.
2. Use until about a centimeter remains at the base, then go round the shops to get a replacement.
3. Prefer the new shower gel because you're bored of the old scent; use new bottle instead of finishing up old one.
4. Repeat ad nauseum
5. End up with 10 or 20 different bottles of shower gel with 1cm of soap at the bottom.

I currently have 7 shower gels, 3 bath soaps and about 20 different moisturisers in a box- not enough soap in any of them for a proper wash, mind, but too much for me to justify chucking them. Occasionally I try to use them up and end up smelling of weird combinations e.g. tea tree, rose, lavender and chocolate.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 23:01, 16 replies)
Cum box
Stolen from /links:
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 15:55, 3 replies)
my younger sister used to run errands for an old man who lived locally. none of his family lived close to him, so he relied heavily on neighbours and friends for help.
one day, she asked me to give her a hand to move his bed downstairs as he was finding it harder and harder to climb the stairs at night. i agreed to help, so off we went.
his house smelled like old people, as you'd imagine. that weird biscuity smell, tinged with stale piss and tobacco.
as we moved his bed, he sat on a chair and smoked woodbines constantly. i noticed that, when he put one out in the ashtray, it'd hiss. i assumed that, for safety's sake, he'd put water in the bottom of the ashtray. a closer look showed me how wrong i was.
his ashtray was half-full of lung butter, with fag stumps poking out of it.
fuck, i feel sick just typing this.
i pulled my sister to one side and asked her about the ashtray. "oh, he's probably topped it up from one of his jars," she said. yes, he actually had jars of his old phlegm stored in the kitchen cupboard.
that was enough for me. much as i felt sorry for that old man being all alone, i just couldn't bring myself to go back there again.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 15:17, 8 replies)
Dear Santa..
Dan dan dan's post below reminds me of something else I'm currently hoarding.

I'm rubbish at hiding anything at home, I'm either so stupid I forget where I put stuff OR it's in an obvious place and gets found. Hence, Christmas time comes around, my kids write their letters to Santa and in our House we put them infront of the fireplace and Santa 'collects' them via the chimney.

What actually happened the first time my oldest had written one was - we didn't know what to do with it - chuck it? keep it? There's no way we could throw it out, it's full of dreams, cutely worded bad spelling and memories. So I took it upon myself to stash it in my work manbag and hide it somewhere at work the next day!

I now have a box file at work on the shelf next to my desk stuffed full of 3 kids worth of letters and pictures for Santa from the past 8 years.
(, Tue 8 May 2012, 15:40, 6 replies)
My cupboards are full
of fierce Mongolian warriors. I keep telling myself that I'm going to invade Europe one day.
(, Tue 8 May 2012, 3:06, 31 replies)
From "The Meaning of Liff"
Nottage n.

Nottage is the collective name for things which you find a use for immediately after you've thrown them away. For instance, your greenhouse has been cluttered up for years with a huge piece of cardboard and great fronds of gardening string. You at last decide to clear all this stuff out, and you burn it. Within twenty-four hours you will urgently need to wrap a large parcel, and suddenly remember that luckily in your greenhouse there is some cardb...
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 8:49, 6 replies)
Many years ago
My company had loaned an electron microscope to the Royal Society for a lecture and had sent me along to install, de-install and keep the thing running. While hanging around in a corridor just outside the main lecture room (the one you see in those Christmas science lectures) I couldn't help but notice a really horrible stink. I started hunting around for the source and eventually found this brown paper bag full of unidentifiable stuff lurking inside a cupboard. I pointed it out to a staff member who informed me it was a pound of liver left there some time previously by one of the geniuses who populate the Royal Society. Nobody had the nerve to remove it, so there it festered. That is until I saw that the coast was clear and proceeded to purge the cupboard of its rank occupant. I like to think that, in my own small way, I have somehow contributed to Britain's continued scientific excellence.
(, Tue 8 May 2012, 12:15, Reply)
I see a lot of hoarding in my job.

Personally I'm a fan of the traditional, simple painted plywood with softwood timber frame but there are strong arguments for the more cost effective herras fencing especially on jobs with flexible site boundaries and shorter contract periods. I've seen but never used the modern steelhoarding systems which feature re-usable powder coated steel panels which ticks the sustainability boxes nicely.

Another modern trend seems to be for highly decorative hoarding, either advertising the contractor or the client, and there is no doubt that this provides excellent advertising potential but often serves to attract people to sites rather than deter trespassing. Something of an oxymoron I'm sure you'll agree.

(, Mon 7 May 2012, 19:45, 3 replies)
Fond memories
My girlfriend's family house is, to my eyes, more than generously-sized. But that doesn't mean that every available surface and floor-space isn't crammed full of everything that could ever possibly come in handy, or have done at some point in an alternate timeline.

Inheritance being what it is, and my girlfriend's student digs being of rather stingy proportions for a dormouse, never mind the five occupants, her kitchen cupboards are approaching a physical proof of some culinary maximal-packing theorem. I was giving them a clean-out and re-organisation a few weeks back, when I came across a nice shiny new sieve.

"Finally! You got a new one!" I said approvingly to her. The old one, which had been about a bit, had been a corrugated mess of stiff metal mesh that took an age to clean, shredding to bits any sponge or scourer that made the brave sacrifice of attempting the job.

A little more digging about, and I pulled out... the old sieve.

"But why?", I asked. "Why on Earth would you keep this? It's so unusable that you had to get a new one!" I said as I waved both sieves about in juxtaposition.

"I... I've got fond memories of that sieve...."

Upon my presumably blank stare and uncertain silence, I was further informed that the sieve was a 'family heirloom'.
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 21:25, Reply)
"I'm not a hoarder",
he said, "I'm an archivist".
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 19:15, 1 reply)
I still have my penis.
Mainly for sentimental reasons, since there's very little chance of it ever being used.
(, Fri 4 May 2012, 4:42, 10 replies)
*points to pile of cuttlefish bones and secret stash of trill mixed with excrement*


(, Thu 3 May 2012, 19:51, 5 replies)
220 penguins and assorted items of penguinalia.
These mainly included fluffy toys and statues. But I also managed to collect anything with penguins on it, including penguin beer, penguin condoms, penguin pencil erasers, clockwork penguins, penguin games, penguin ornaments, penguin badges, March of The Penguins on DVD (obviously) and a 7 inch tattoo of a penguin on the back of my right leg.

I've given the overwhelming majority of my horde to charity shops now, due to moving house a few times, so I've only got a few of the best penguins kicking about somewhere now.

And my tattoo, obviously.

But still, now, every Christmas and every birthday, what do I get?
More fucking cuddly toy penguins. And, as my girlfriend and stepdaughter also get given them as well, we now have THREE times the average amount of penguins coming in to the house each Christmas.

I'm a bloke, and I'm almost 40.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 18:31, 10 replies)
Inadvertent floppy disk hoarding
My first employer back in 1988 was a company who wrote accounting systems for shopkeepers. It ran on a number of platforms including BBC Micros, Commodore 64s, Apricots and the Amstrad PCW8256's running CP/M and PC's running very early versions of DOS. No Speccy version though; shame.

Shopkeepers back then weren't particularly computer savvy but our software was simple enough to use (It was based on the SIMPLEX-D cashbook that they all used at the time). One of these poor souls was struggling with the concept of restoring a backup after a hard disk failure or something so our sales director went out to assist this guy and asked him whether he had a previous backup disk he could use.

"Oh, of course. I keep them all, but it's an expensive game this computing isn't it?" the shopkeeper cheerfully announced as he opened a double-fronted set of cupboards. Lined up in neat rows, each labelled by day, week and month were hundreds of 5.25" Floppy disks.

"Do you know you can re-use the disks, don't you?" Enquired our Director.

"You can?"

Feeling sorry for the chap our director bought most of the floppy disks back from him (at a bargain price, no doubt) and that was how I ended up spending 4 or 5 days formatting, re-labelling and repackaging hundreds of damn floppy disks.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 15:24, Reply)
My grandma has two pet tortoises. She also has about 500 tortoise figurines, ranging from driftwood carvings to hat pins to quasi realistic ones.

My 4 year-old cousin got confused this spring and put about 70 of them in the garden, thinking they were also 'real' tortoises. One of the real ones was just out from hibernating and hence very still... she decided he was a model and put him on a shelf. He woke up VERY quickly, but thankfully didn't fall too hard and is fine.

It did mean that this easter, instead of an easter egg hunt, we had a tortoise hunt. We're still missing about 20. My cousin says they must have crawled away.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 14:56, Reply)
Literally anything like comics, toys or indeed anything vaguely sci-fi
I have shelves and shelves of Transformers, Star Trek, Star Wars and Warhammer 40K stuff. Books, comics, toys, models, uniforms...you name it, I've probably picked it up at a car boot sale and stashed it away somewhere.

It does come in handy, as I've been prop master or producer on quite a number of short films now, and - growing out of that - our geek-porn site is just going from strength to strength.

The missus came home from work the other week with four medieval-style leather jerkins and a couple of Norman helmets. No idea what I'll use them for as yet*, but they've been added to the archive.

* apart from, obviously, wearing around the house while carrying a sword and pretending I'm in Game of Thrones or something
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 14:51, 21 replies)
My elderly bleached blonde Grandmother
banged two buckets of pennies and pounds down in front a teller at the bank.

The teller, unsure how to handle so much loose change, called the manager.
The manager started to berate my Grandmother for hoarding so many quarters.
She gave him a long hard look and said, "I didn't hoard all of these. My sister whored half, and I whored the other half."
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 14:19, 9 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1