It's not all bad.
On Saturday my place was left devestated, like a localised hurricane had torn through the place betwen the hours of midday and 3pm.

Everything that could be out of place, was out of place.

My fridge was even turned upside down.

The neighbors cat was scared to cross my garden.

It left me shattered, exhausted, ready to collapse

I always feel like that when my four year old niece leaves.

And I wouldn't change her for the world.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:51, Reply)

Bugger

(stonersmurf stuckin' foned, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:47, Reply)

No.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:44, Reply)

Is last the new first?

(stonersmurf stuckin' foned, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:35, Reply)

Ho
Hum
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:35, Reply)

Tsk
You guys....

(Ooo, blond lass walking past my window)
(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:32, Reply)

Not even second last

(jono_h, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:18, Reply)

No.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:16, Reply)

Last?

(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 12:15, Reply)

An italian, a black guy, and an irishman
Are lost after some incident involving MASSIVE DRUGS. They're walking down a dirt road and come to a house. They knock, explain their situation to the nice old man at the door, and all that. He tells them, "I'll let you stay the night and call someone in the morn, but you gotta stay in ma barn. If any of you come up to the house and try anythin' with my daughter, I'll find out, and feed your dick to my pigs."

Then three agree, and go to get settled in, they see the man's daughter and she is HOT. They start murmuring about it. The italian convinces them they don't want to try anything.

A few hours later, the man's daughter gave me a call, I snuck over, fucked her brains out, made her scream in pleasure, and hightailed it outta there in my Honda Accord.

The pigs did not go hungry, and needless to say, I had the last laugh.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 2:31, 9 replies)

Am I too late?
There's a spider in the corner of our living room. The fucker doesn't pay rent, but he doesn't make a mess. My wife hates him, but he hasn't done anything to her. My cat stares at him like he's a snack, yet he doesn't seem bothered. I would've evicted him by now; it's just that I can't reach him.

Sorry for lack of funnies, but that's every post from me, dull and fuckwitted...
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 2:22, 3 replies)

crossed wires
a mate of mine once invited a gay pal to stay overnight after more than a few beers in the local pub. they'd been good mates since school, so my mate thought there would be no problems with his houseguest.
the next morning, my mate arrived at my house, white and shaking. i knew something had happened, but he refused to tell me.
i tried for several hours to get the story out of him, but he didn't want to tell me.
turns out he just couldn't be buggered...
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 18:58, 2 replies)

We met at your house.
I'm there right now.
Call me...
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 17:22, 3 replies)

I had a stripper friend come to live with me.
Got back from work one night to find out she'd put up a pole in the living room. I was livid. For nearly 1/18th of a second.
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 16:53, 6 replies)

Half a tin of Kessy Super topped up with vodka......
Years ago me and a mate decided we wanted to get super fucked and decided that mixing kessy super with vodka would do the trick. We were only 15 hence it seeming like a good idea.
Anyway, we achieved what we set out to do and after a proper struggle managed to get back to my house safely. I got in bed and my mate got on the camp bed on the floor. He was a bit too fucked and had trouble staying on the camp bed so I put him in my bed.

I fell into an alcohol coma but was rudely awoken by all kinds of commotion, my mate was having a hard time whatever he was doing in the dark. The above mentioned commotion had managed to wake my mum up next door and she came to look what was happening.

I was not prepared for what happened when she flicked the light on. My mate was stood up with his back to me and facing my mum. Pissing. In his sleep. On my floor. Flashing his cock to my mum.

Now, as you can imagine I was quite upset and urged my mum to do something about it. She just laughed, I mean proper belly laughed and went back to bed before my just casually climbed back into bed.

When he woke up in the morning he found me scrubbing the floor and simply asked "why the fuck you scrubbing the floor? You been sick you light weight?"...
(tedalaki - Like Purple Aki but better, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 16:37, Reply)

I really enjoy staying at your house.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 16:37, 4 replies)

For a while I had this Canadian dog living with me
Actually I can't be bothered finishing this.

Maybe tomorrow.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 16:33, 6 replies)

I've had loads of house guests over the years
so many that I have lost count. Mostly young ladies - but don't get any ideas, there's never been and never will be any er, um, "nookie". Some of them have "fancied" me and I have been very close to a couple of them, which makes it very hard for me when they leave.

Because they always leave.

Sometimes it's my hectic lifestyle that makes them go, sometimes they meet someone they can settle down with and have a proper relationship, sometimes - though not often - they die, sometimes it's due to circumstances beyond my control. Sometimes they just grow out of me.

The strange thing is I rarely invite them to come and live with me, they choose themselves, or stow away, or circumstances throw us together. Take my current guests - a young married couple. I first met the girl after a traumatic period of change in my life, and got on with the girl immediately. She moved in almost straight away though there was some bother about dates and times.

We became close very quickly and there was a sort of thing between us, though I did my best to discourage it. As for her husband, well, I thought he was a bit wet at first but soon came to like him. We had a bit of a rough time and I almost didn't make it to their wedding - but I'm glad I did as they are now both living with me and we are having a whale of a time!

But, they too will leave, eventually. It'll be sad, but, I'm getting used to it now. And I know that once they have gone, someone else will be along to share my life.

You never know one day I may meet someone who will want to stay with me forever...
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 13:13, 13 replies)

Mystery guests
A few years back I went through to Glasgow to visit two student brothers, lets call them Pete and Danny. Pete's band was playing in town that night and Danny, having just moved into a big room in a shared student flat, said we could both kip on the floor, since neither of us lived locally.

Gig goes smashing, everyone gets ripped, we're onto the shots and cheap cocktails after I get smuggled into a student union. After a bit Danny decides he's going to stay at his bird's place, so chucks Pete the keys to his own flat.

Having never met Danny's flatmates we don't want to wake them up - especially since Danny mostly stayed at his bird's place and didn't know them too well himself - Pete and I creep up to the flat with our assorted takeaways piled high, chucking back another few beers before collapsing at about 4am.

I wake up on the couch in Danny's room, a half-eaten pizza by my side. My head has it's own painful pulse by now, and the rich daylight beaming in through the window isn't helping any. I try to think back to the previous night and remember if we broke or destroyed anything. Nope. We're good. Thank fuck.

At this point Pete stumbles out of the bed, having bagsied it the previous evening on the grounds that he was related to the absent host.

He looks rough as fuck, struggling for balance in his undies as he makes his way to the door. "I'm bursting for a pish," he groaned, "You need anything while I'm up?"

"Aye", I croaked. "Water".

While Pete's out getting the water I realise my only saviour from this brutal hangover is to try and get some more sleep.

After a while there's a knock at the front door of the flat. Fuck it. I'm just a guest. No point in me answering it, so I try get back to sleep.

Again the knocking continues. I'm starting to get pissed off with the lazy students who live here. They can't even get up to answer their own fucking door. I counted five rooms on the way in so surely one of them's got to be up by now. I start to drift off.

Ten minutes later there's a commotion and my eyes are opened. I can hear voices and movement in the hallway. I'm thirsty as fuck and I need water NOW! I get dressed and wander out to see where the fuck Pete is with my water.

The whole flat is awake now, filled with strangers and the banging on the door is louder than ever. One of the beweldered-looking students is twatting the toilet door with a screwdriver in the hope of busting the lock while the rest stand around watching with confusion.

Their shock at seeing me, an unknown drunk, stumbling into the hallway is topped only by the moment the toilet door lock gives way and Pete bursts out in yesterday's undies in a sweary fit.

The students had awoken that Saturday morning to find not only that they had guests. But that one of them had broken the lock on the bog and shut himself in. Pete had been banging away until they got up. When he emerged, the two young female students were treated to a full-frontal of drunken Pete almost in the buff, face like beetroot through shame.

It's a hell of a way to find out you have guests you've never even met before, but as a friendly bunch I have to say they took it far better than I would have.

Danny moved out soon after . . .
(Barry Subchimp, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 13:11, 1 reply)

This one time a friend invited me to comment on a humour-based website, and I made up a story.
Jesus what a bunch of prissy, hysterical little gnomes.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 13:02, 7 replies)

Tic Tacs
A mate of mine had an exchange student, she told him she was allergic to Tic Tacs, he didn't beleive her, so he snuck into her room and put Tic Tacs in her mouth while she slept.

It turned out she wasn't lying and had a violent allergic reaction to the 2 calorie mint delights and ended up in hospital on a respirator.

I have a feeling my mate may have just made this story up as he's not in jail for attempted murder, still made laugh though.
(kendohmassif Fritzl Burger Monkey Chode, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 12:22, Reply)

Christmas slugs
Might as well pea this, as it's vaguely related to the question:

Prelude
This didn’t happen to me but to my schoolfriend O. But it did happen at my parents’ house.

Act One
At around 3 am one Christmas Day in the mid-1990s, my mother heard something rustling in the garden, but thought nothing of it. At 6, the doorbell rang. O stood there, looking bedraggled. “I was wondering, Mrs Enzyme’s Mum, if you might have a spare bed?” he asked. O was always very polite, and I think my mother fancied him a bit. She took pity on him and let him in.

Act Two, Scene 1
My schoolfriends and I, having gone to various universities, used to make a point of going to the pub to see in Christmas Day. (Non-linear narrative ftw!) At the end of the evening, we dispersed. O realised that he was much too drunk to drive to his house several miles away, and was invited to crash at V’s house. O and V had been going out before university; they had finished with each other now, but were on reasonable terms. However, in the small hours, O misjudged just how reasonable those terms were, and ended up getting thrown out. Still drunk, but now bewildered, alone, and far from home, he needed a plan.

This plan involved walking to my house.

Act Two, Scene 2
My father, having gone through a phase of insulating the greenhouse, the kitchen, the study, and just about anything else that didn’t move, had a large roll of bubble-wrap in the greenhouse. O arrived at my house and found it dark and quiet; too polite to wake anyone at that point, but still needing somewhere to spend the night, he let himself into the back garden with the intention of sleeping under a rhododendron, and found the roll. The greenhouse was too cluttered to sleep, but, wrapped in bubble-wrap under the rhodo, he would be fine.

Anagnorisis
What forced O to bite the bullet and ring the doorbell was that, few hours later, it began to rain. He apparently hadn’t really minded the slugs with whom he shared his bivouac.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 12:20, 2 replies)

Whenever I'm a house guest
I do try to have a wank in the shower first thing in the morning.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 12:03, 5 replies)

I could pearoast the story about the time I stayed at my parents' house and tried to shag my mum.
But I can't really be bothered.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 10:19, 14 replies)

All I seem to really do at the moment...
...is pearoast, sorry about that, but, here's the story about our overnight houseguest:



In the wee small hours of one student morning, doing a couple of lines of something I shouldn't have been with a friend and playing on the NES (God, I am SO old).

We hear the front door open, We hear footsteps on the stairs.

We hear giggling, We hear moaning, We hear the unmistakable sounds of my Irish Cassanova flatmate getting down to the physical act of love.

I look at my co-conspirator, we shrug, and go back to our slightly aggressive game of Sensible Soccer, turning the volume up slightly, waiting for the inevitable signal that he had 'completed the task'


Why 'inevitable?' Well, we had a game, it was a very childish game admittedly, but it was our game nevertheless. If any of us pulled (and when I say any of us, I wasn't the most successful sexual adventurer as a student, so it was mainly the other guys), at the moment of climax, we'd have to shout an advertising slogan as loud as we could. You'd get a point for each housemate that heard it...



What would it be this time? we'd already recently had what I considered the unbeatable 'The Lion Goes From Strength To Strength!' yelled at about 9am on a Sunday morning.

We played another game of Sensible

And then we heard it, in a loud Irish Accent...

...'Don't Forget The Honey, Mummy!'

And we cracked. Cracked in the way that only two immature Charlie'd up wanker students could.

We were in hysterics, tears, crying, wheezing, giggling like buffoons.

We couldn't stop. I swear, it must have been 15 minutes later when, us still laughing, the door opened and in walked this girl we had never seen before.

She just said, 'I was just on my way home, but I had to come and see what was so funny'

So we explained, she didn't seem too put out, and, in fact, possibly even relieved that she had an explanation for the odd orgasm exclamation.

She was really sweet actually, and she stayed, talking to us, in a lovely, lilting Irish brogue for a good half hour.

I was beginning to think we could actually be friends.

Until the door burst open.

Irish Cassanova walked boldy in, wrapped in just a towel and proudly stated

'Oi, lads, oi've just fucked Terry Wogan's daughter...oh...I thought you'd left...'

She did.

Immediately.

For good.

Shame. It could have been my turn next.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 8:51, 4 replies)

You know that friend that stayed over?
Well while I was having a shower, I did a wee.
(Sadarse works like Mist condensing mud flaps, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 3:12, 4 replies)

civilised drunk, even when being uncivilised.
I'd like to think I'm an excellent guest. A few years a go I was at a mates house party, staggering about the place with a gut full of cider. Feeling on top of the world, and not at all nauseous (genuinely) I stumble down a hallway to see a door to the right of me open and 2 drunks roll out and head back to the party.
The room they fell out of was the bathroom. Now, I didn't feel at all ill, but I staggered up to the door and proceeded to projectile-vomit with impressive accuracy into the toilet. I then ever so calmly wiped my mouth, flushed the loo and went on my way.
It felt appropriate at the time. No gagging, no wretching, just "hmm, may as well while I'm here" and WHOOOSH. And off I go.
(MunchMyBalloons, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 1:24, 3 replies)

An impoverished student flat South East London early 1980s
Out of Halls, into grown up digs and male. Sweet liberty and economic necessity demand a certain ingenuity regarding intoxicants. Basically, since this predates Tesco pretty much giving beer away, it's grow your own horrible weed and brew your own horrible alcohol time.

A large pvc tub of sugar, instant beer crap and yeast takes up resisdence in the airing cupboard and the resulting concoction is given the minimum possible fermentation time. It tastes as horrible as you would expect and does terrible things to the bowels but it does contain ethanol. It gets drunk and so do the housemates.

In the early days, as often happens, the default state of the acccommodation is set to party and a constant flow of people come and go. Weekends are the worst but usually some relatively unknown friend of a friend will be drinking, smoking and crashing.

Cutting a long story short, one of these occasional overstayers vouchsafed the fact that on a previous visit some weeks earlier he was unable to resist temptation and adulterated the homebrew with his piss. Sobriety and conscience, or perhaps a desire to see the reaction prompted a confession. Too little too late, no vintage brews here.

It didn't actually taste any worse than the usual beer sans piss as it turned out
(unclestinky, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 1:15, Reply)