House Guests
"Last week," Ungersven confesses, "I vomited over almost everything in a friend's spare room. The only thing to escape the deluge was the rather attractive (alas engaged) French girl who was sharing the bed with me." Tell us about nightmare guests or Fred West-a-like hosts.
( , Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:20)
"Last week," Ungersven confesses, "I vomited over almost everything in a friend's spare room. The only thing to escape the deluge was the rather attractive (alas engaged) French girl who was sharing the bed with me." Tell us about nightmare guests or Fred West-a-like hosts.
( , Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:20)
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Man, this tune's SICK.*
In 1994, I formed a band with a H and A, couple of mates from school, and over the course of the summer we half-heartedly tried to come up with some songs. We struggled to formulate more than one slightly mopey descending sequence of minor chords, though. We were never going to be megastars at this rate. We wouldn't even manage to get a spot supporting giants like, er, Cud.
My parents and brother having gone away on holiday, I had the house to myself. I thought that this would present a great opportunity to have a practice session, so invited my bandmates across.
Predictably, we didn't get beyond our mopey four chords. We did, however, do ourselves proud with wine, beer and pizza before knocking things on the head for the night. A couldn't drive, and H was in no state, so I pointed them in the direction of the spare room.
A couple of hours later, I was woken by a knock at the door. H was standing there.
"Um, I've had a bit of an accident..." he offered. He'd woken feeling sick, hadn't been able to react in time, and lost the contents of his stomach on the bed. To his credit, he then had the presence of mind to gather the corners of the blanket together, and was now stood sheepish and half-naked on the landing with this improvised package of vomit in his hand. He was like the Sick Santa.
My bedroom was at the back of the house, above the patio. I opened the window and invited him to throw his gifts out. We'd deal with it in the morning.
God only knows what the neighbours thought when, to accompany their breakfast, they had the spectacle of H and A holding out the blanket like a painter's canvas, and me trying to wash the lumpy bits down the grid with a hosepipe.
*Yeah, I'm street like that.
( , Mon 10 Jan 2011, 15:15, 2 replies)
In 1994, I formed a band with a H and A, couple of mates from school, and over the course of the summer we half-heartedly tried to come up with some songs. We struggled to formulate more than one slightly mopey descending sequence of minor chords, though. We were never going to be megastars at this rate. We wouldn't even manage to get a spot supporting giants like, er, Cud.
My parents and brother having gone away on holiday, I had the house to myself. I thought that this would present a great opportunity to have a practice session, so invited my bandmates across.
Predictably, we didn't get beyond our mopey four chords. We did, however, do ourselves proud with wine, beer and pizza before knocking things on the head for the night. A couldn't drive, and H was in no state, so I pointed them in the direction of the spare room.
A couple of hours later, I was woken by a knock at the door. H was standing there.
"Um, I've had a bit of an accident..." he offered. He'd woken feeling sick, hadn't been able to react in time, and lost the contents of his stomach on the bed. To his credit, he then had the presence of mind to gather the corners of the blanket together, and was now stood sheepish and half-naked on the landing with this improvised package of vomit in his hand. He was like the Sick Santa.
My bedroom was at the back of the house, above the patio. I opened the window and invited him to throw his gifts out. We'd deal with it in the morning.
God only knows what the neighbours thought when, to accompany their breakfast, they had the spectacle of H and A holding out the blanket like a painter's canvas, and me trying to wash the lumpy bits down the grid with a hosepipe.
*Yeah, I'm street like that.
( , Mon 10 Jan 2011, 15:15, 2 replies)
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