i've had a couple...
first one was a short, evil, ginger thing. annoyingly, when she lived with other people, she was great fun, but as soon as i actually lived with her i found that she wanted to hate at least one person she lived with. and it was me.

i never did work out what her problem was, but it involved all the usual banging on doors, screaming at me, house parties from hell (including coming home to find complete strangers had been vomiting in my bed, which was interesting). she once went home and took her tv (which she'd provided for the house) with her as i was the only person left in the house. nice girl.

but to be fair, she takes second place to a major, major fruitloop. this guy was a drinking buddy of mine in my last year of uni, and a close friend at the time. now, when i move in with him, everything's ace for a couple of weeks. i get him a job working at the same company i do, and everything seems pretty smooth.

then he decides to stop talking to me. entirely. he'd leave the room if i entered it, and would start leaving notes (for example, one note on the thermostat read 'i pay for the heating, so stop turning it on' - i kid you not). his girlfriend wasn't allowed to talk to me or my girlfriend any more (which she ignored, thankfully - and she's still a good friend of ours).

then it started to get really weird. mutual friends of ours stopped talking to me. eventually i cornered one of them, and found that i'd been accused of (wait for it, it's ace) using black magick to curse him. apparently, i'd been using demonology to attack him, and that's why he'd gone strange on me. it didn't take long to point out that *he* had the lesser and greater keys of solomon as bedside reading, and that, being a discordian, demonology isn't really my thing. i'm not stupid enough to invoke something that wants to swallow my soul.

needless to say, i found somewhere else to live. and apparently he's now living with my ex (as in the 'psycho ex' of a previous challenge). so maybe he was cursed after all :)
(blades is looking for a brain, any brain, at, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 16:19, Reply)

hello from America
I probably have had one of the worst first roommate experiences ever. I decided at this time last year that I needed to move out since my mom and I weren't getting along very well and the girls I moved in with were 3 years younger than I am, which was a bad idea from the start. I was in my last semester of school, and they were in their second year, so needless to say, we knew some people who wanted to party, and party we did. Except I always did all the cleaning and buying of the alcohol for the parties since they were all 19 and I was 22, yet they never reimbursed me and when we asked for people to chip in, the money mysteriously disappeared, probably to the fat one's room to buy more food and shit to leave all over the floor. Her room looked like a room on a cop show when they take people's children from them because the area is "unlivable." She also walked downstairs one day with blood all over her pants...figure that one out. Still trying to get the image out of my head to this day.
Another one had her boyfriend over at all times of the night since he was a cop and her room was right over mine, so I heard everything that went on and since I wasn't nocturnal like they were, I didn't get much sleep those nights.
The other girl was sweet and quiet, yet she left her hair in the drain all the time and when I went to shower there was not only a giant clump of hair in the drain but a huge mess of dirt and tiny leg hair littering the tub. Lovely. Also, none of them ever cleaned anything, so if the house was going to look nice, it was my job.

So, the big one also decided she was exempt from the "not using other people's stuff" rule and continued to use my face products, and also using my razor and towel once when she was home in New Hampshire for a while and came back for the weekend to take a voice lesson and didn't bring her own stuff I guess. The same visit, she left the door wide open to bring her stuff (or maybe herself) in, forgetting I have a cat who doesn't go outside and when I came home, my poor kitty was on the apex of the roof and couldn't get down. She actually had the nerve to leave me new face product with a tiny little bow on it (which my cat chewed on and threw up lol) after I had a meeting with them all the night before and she lied to my face that she hadn't used my stuff, even though she is stupid and left the evidence behind in the bathroom. Idiot.

Though this story could go on forever, the icing on the cake came when my rent check bounced by no fault of my own. I had asked the bank to return me a fee incurred by the check and in turn they thought I also wanted the check returned. I found out about this by the lovely letter they wrote me and left on my bedroom door when I got home one night (cause the landlord couldn't speak to me directly, guess he was too much of a pussy for confrontation) and since they were a bunch of pussies too, they wrote me a letter, saying I had to pay up again plus all these ridiculous fees (which weren't dictated in the lease) if I wanted to stay. But, even if I were to stay, they wanted me out when the lease was up since the "living situation isn't working out for any of us, including you" meaning I guess they wanted to live in filth and period blood and whatever. So I decided to just move back home at that time, since I didn't feel like dealing with the bullshit anymore, but I couldn't take my bedframe and boxspring since it wouldn't fit back into my room at my mom's. I had gotten a new one when I moved in. So they said it was okay that I left it there til I could find a place to put it. When I went to pick up some mail one day I noticed they had already changed the locks so I couldn't get my mail or my bed unless I told them exactly when I was coming. Well, I had to get it out when I got another lovely letter in a pile of mail saying "this is a courtesy to inform you that you must have all of your belongings out of here, including your bed, within 72 hours of receiving this letter. If you do not contact us, your property will be disassembled and placed outside of the house within 96 hours." And a whole bunch more word vomit, later, told me they had gotten a lawyer involved! Which I knew right off the bat was fatty's mommy, since I knew both her parents were in law, and I guess they can't handle things themselves cause they're little babies who can't clean up, pay for anything themselves (forgot to mention that their parents were paying for the house, while I was paying my own way, and their parents also paid for every little thing they wanted...how sad), or deal with confrontation.

Long story, yes. Not even half of it though. Moral of the story? Don't live with people 3 years younger than you that you don't know very well (I only knew one well) unless you want to find yourself in a situation where you are more mature, responsible, and respectful than everyone else in the house. Unless you are heavily medicated, then I suppose it's okay.
At least when I finally got my bed out, and noticed there was a bit of cat vomit left under the bed, I left it there, along with the mess the kitty litter had made. Oh well. Guess the bitches have to deal with something themselves for once.
(mezzalyrica1184, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 16:15, Reply)

More a tent mate from hell
When aged 15 went camping with some mates for the weekend...My mates mate had a fit but verrrrry posh and irritating girlfreind who would boss us about and generally annoy us with her upper class accent and condescending manner...We got her back by wanking in her socks one night....So in the morning BITCH says"Err my socks are all wet" after putting them on...Revenge is best!!!

She also neveer found out....We told her it must have been dew!!!
(archstanton The gold is next to me....leave me be, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 15:59, Reply)

It's not just the quiet ones you have to watch out for...
It's their boyfriends as well.

First year at university, left it far far too late to sort out proper accomodation and ended up in a rancid basement somewhere on the Brighton seafront, sharing with a seemingly normal young woman. All started well. We shared stuff, and she could do the splits. Then she realised that a) this wasn't an episode of Friends, and b) she didn't actually like anyone very much.

She proceeded to get very demanding, bolshy, unreasonable, and attached to an intense, but small boyfriend who more or less moved in.

This was fine as I, along with the 17 other people crammed into this single family townhouse, would just amuse ourselves by laughing at her, and by laughing even harder at her boyfriend when he would threaten to 'Put us through a wall' for taking the piss out of her.

Did I mention he was small? And that five of us were in the rugby team, and therefore quite large? No? Well, it didn't seem to bother him though, as he knew something we didn't. We soon found out though.

The next year, after she had quit her course and gone off to spend her parents' money instead, there was an interesting article in the local paper. Seems her boyfriend, the little fella, had been caught literally red handed, as they were covered in the blood of the prostitute he'd just killed. He was also suspected of offing a couple more.

So now we knew too. He was a free range, grade A, no added sugar, mental bastard. Being put through a wall doesn't sound half bad in comparison.

Length? Well, she was reputed to have one like a mouse's ear, but judging from the sounds coming through the wall, he had no problem. I suspect that's where the problem started.
(Hampton St.Roker (has probably had your mum), Tue 10 Apr 2007, 15:33, Reply)

crythtaltipth-again
crythtaltipth and I shared a gaffe with some great guys for 6 months or so; about 2-3 in the morning she'd get up to pith/doucthe/eject the rubber thingy and she'd always say 'hi guys' to they in the lounge smoking erotics and watching 'open university' and they'd always, but always crack up...
7months later after the lisping one and I had gone theperate wayth, they let me in on the gag: they were watching OU for 'the special one'
HE who had a 'W' as in, he Wolled his R's and would place bets as to when crythtaltips would pop her head round the door and thay 'hello guyth, howth thinghth?' to the background of the wide tied beardy one talking of 'welativity'
Crythaltipth: I still love you-her first bf. had told her that his boner in the a.m signified his love for her, hence I must still be in lovewith her???

lenght? welatively thpeaking thizthe ith iwwelevant
(Doh! for young'uns: OU is the Open University-filmed in the 70's it had beardy weirdies wiv kipper ties+ check jackets explaing stuff for the late night stoned, inebriated and underemployed and replayed until the present day)
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 15:15, Reply)

when I lived in Middle Earth

there was one guy who seemed perfectly fine, until I mentioned that I played Papers and Paychecks - the game of mundane adventures in a technologically advanced society without magic. He was weird around me after that. I left after he started ranting about how it'd stop you being into the occult.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 15:01, Reply)

"The Sodomiser - Dial 0800 000 000WWWWW"
At university I made best friends with a bloke off my course called Paul, he was great, we had the same taste in music, the same sense of humour and he had a sexy girlfriend back home who was lovely and would visit often.

After the second year I moved into his student house at which point he promptly turned gay. This was a problem because I had the downstairs bedroom beneath his room, and I could hear everything. Everything.

He would have loud thumping bum-sex with his horrible slimey new boyfriend, and from what I could gather from his "ow ow OWWW's", Paul was the taker. I would lie in bed, curled in the foetal position with my fingers in my ears, waiting for the horror to end.

I really wanted to stay friends with Paul, but I ended up sleeping round my girlfriends flat most nights to avoid the nightly sounds of two men making sweet-sweet love to each other, and it's hard to look a mate in the eye when you know that he "Doesn't like to suck it when it's covered in shit".
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 14:58, Reply)

First Year At Uni
We shall call this particular housemate J, for that is the first letter of the name Johannah.

Johannah...was er...different. Nothing really malicious in her (I thought)And generally we got on ok, had a bit of a laugh etc... being in to the same types of music, we got on. She was a veggie, and is a bit of a germ-o-phobe, but that was ok, because it meant the flat was kept tidy.

Fast Forward to about three weeks before the end of term. I was er....having relations with a girl who was not eactly single. Johannah, for no unprovoked reason at all decided to, in a drunken haze (apparently) txt the fella of said girl and tell him. Now ok, I wasnt exactly in the right in this situation, but what she did was just down right evil.

Now I thought Johannah and I were friends. Oh how wrong was I? I started to ignore her. After about two days she asked me "why?"- At this point another housemate decided to shut her room door for fear of her ears about to bleed. I shouted the place down- not in a viscious way, more in a really annoyed way- and I told her what I thought of her.

So we stop talking for the rest of our time together, and then oneday I get home after work to find my WET clothes on the floor. Before I went to work, I put the clothes in the washing machine, and set it to dry as well (note: I worked in a pub, and was on a 3 hour cover shift- including drying time, the was took about 2 hours anyway)I looked in the washing machine, surprise surprise as Cilla would say- Johannah's clothes are in there. All clean, and dry. grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Rather petty looking back at it, but I took her clothes out and stroon them across the floor. put mine back in. and sat there. not in a demonic way, more in a "I want to see the look on your face" way.

Then things really deteriorated between us. It started with her putting my dirty plates from the night before outside my room door(remember I said I worked in a pub- washing up at 3am was not a priority to me) so when I walked out of my room I would kick/step in it. So I got my own back- cooking all kinds of smelly meat (bacon, mince, lamb etc....) all the time. I dont think ive ever eaten so many bacon sarnies before then, or since.

Eventually, she mopved out, as did I, due to our contract expiring. Ive since found out that around the time lady x was having an affair with yours truely, Johannah was having an affair as well. Lady X and I are still friends, Johannah is still rotting away up north somewhere.

Oh, and she used to carry her makeup around in a TOOL BOX. A FUCKING TOOLBOX!

length- the cause of an affair. you decide.
(drain_bamaged, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 14:31, Reply)

Sophie sophie sophie...
... that girl livened up everybody's uni halls experience. She was a little bit of a hermit and didn't really talk to anybody, but since me and my mates weren't like the rest of useless twunts in my block we reached out and befriended her. We invited her to sit with us at meals (Stupid catered hall) and watch dvds in the evening etc. She even came down to the hall bar a few times with us.

Then. She flipped.

Out at a bar one evening, I happened to be talking to a young gentleman I sort of had my eye on and Sophie, not really having a mind of her own, decided to have her eye on him too. The friends had sort of engineered it so that the pair of us were alone, which caused meltdown in sophie's fragile state. She then proceeded to throw *my own pint* at me and run out of the bar and try and throw herself under a car.

Calling an end to the night, we graciously tried to help her home, which was greeted with much abuse, scratching, spitting and swearing. Back at halls she proceeded to smash up the bathroom and throw bottles at people. We *thought* she was trashing her room, but it turned out she was just throwing her spare change against her door. Which actually make me snort quite audibly at the security guard we had to call.

Other classic sophie-isms:
- Only ever eating frozen waffles cooked in a toaster.
- Making me eat her edible underwear.
- Having pictures of child/elderly actors on her wall.
- Leaving messages on her door asking her to be woken up for her 9am lectures. If you did wake her up, she throw things at you.
- Pretending to be drinking straight vodka, but was really drinking water. Didn't occur to her to NOT share it, thus giving away herself away.
- Masturbating in the communal bathroom. The giggling, sighing and splashing confirmed that for me.

Now, whenever I feel a little twinge of missing her antics I just read her myspace blog instead. Cheers me up everytime, without fail.
(thants, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 14:02, Reply)

You don't know how to what?
Having read some of the comments on here, my housemate from hell sounds almost normal.

Me and one of my housemates were sprawled over the sofas, watching Neighbours, when another housemate comes in asking how to make a sandwhich. Yes, you read that correctly. She wanted to know whether the butter went on the bread, or the ham. Seriously, 18 years old and couldn't even do that. She also hasn't got the hang of bagless vacuum cleaners, and emptied it out onto the carpet.

But the worst was the kitchen. The washing up was never done, and we ended up playing Jenga with the dishes. As in trying to take one from the washing up pile without the rest crashing to the floor. It was sorted out when sandwhich girl's parents came to visit and cleaned up for us.
(ToysForBigBoys would spread her legs for Nick Clegg., Tue 10 Apr 2007, 13:33, Reply)

life is hell!
Im piss poor, due to lack of qualifications, child maintenance (which I would gladly give up food to pay) and general ongoing bad luck/judgement.

As a consequence, I live in a tres dodgy house share in Chavgomery in Telford.

I was meant to be moving in with two six foot extremely fit sisters. But the week before I moved in they decided to go to Australia for a year, and so rented out all the bedrooms in the house.

One room is taken by a lovely couple, newly engaged, very friendly, shag all the time.
ALL THE TIME.
LOUDLY.
not a problem per se, but tough to take at 3 am. (thin walls you see).

The problem is the guy in the other room.
Steve (for tis his name).
A builder.
A messy fucker. In the EXTREME.

Im not sure he has even paid his rent yet, and he's been here 8 weeks.

Never washes up, nor tidies, nor puts the bin out.
Leaves old pants/socks all over the show.
Smokes in his room, with the door open, despite it being non smoking in the contract.
Has no bedding AT ALL so sleeps on a bare mattress.
Cooks a weeks meals in one go, at MIDNIGHT.
And is an alcoholic.

Prick.
I hate him.

And my life.
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 13:21, Reply)

I think I was about 22, and my mom had asked me what I wanted for Christmas
I replied without hesitation - "SOCKS!" - because up until this point keeping my feet clad in woollen undershoes was proving to be a bit of a hassle. From all my various relatives I gratefully received 28 pairs of socks, enough to keep me going for four weeks (at least) without having to resort to washing, drying, sorting and all the other domestic stuff I really didn't have time for. I also thought I'd be extra clever - I sewed a little piece of red thread through the toe of each one so I could identify it as mine.

By the time the first of February rolled around my housemates had stolen 25 of the 28 pairs. Apparently the red thread made them easier for them to identify as well, and when they needed a pair they would just take them off the line, or, if they were in a hurry, directly from my sock drawer.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 13:01, Reply)

Beat this...
Maybe we were asking for trouble.

A young couple in our first rented flat, as we could only afford rooms or bedsits before. We'd been a couple for a couple of years nearly when we invited her to share with us but we weren't ready for the disruption this would cause. Here are some of her worst habits:

She was a class A attention seeker and would throw a fit if we ignored her or went off to our bedroom.
A few times she actually shat herself and just continued to sit in it until we passed comment.
She was the pickiest eater imaginable, in fact most of her meals were in liquid form.
She would NEVER help with the housework or shopping and was really messy.
She had trouble sleeping and made sure that we both suffered too.
As time went on she got ruder and ruder towards us, pickier and pickier and more and more untidy...

...is this looking familiar yet?

Towards the end of her 18 year tenancy during which time she paid NO rent, she started demanding money with menaces, insisted I give her lifts everywhere, ranted and raged at us for any little thing in her life which didn't appear perfect and managed to blame us for everything.

Strange how much we missed her when she finally went to uni...
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 12:56, Reply)

I shared houses...
...with a number of folk in a number of properties after upping sticks from my folks' place. Being twentysomethings all, we partied, had friends round, had dates round (well I didn't, my GF was with me throughout and I loved her to bits). Shockingly though, we never suffered from food poisoning, never allowed the house to get so minging that people actually refused to visit, never had fights over whose-food/appliance/grooming product/clothing item/turn to do chores-was-whose, never had problems with anyone not paying thier rent, never had the house wrecked by visiting psycho associates etc. In a nutshell, pick your nightmare and I can almost guarantee that we slept soundly in ignorance of it.

[There was a big old rant here, but I mellowed and got rid - I'll just say we were lucky]

That said, there was one wrinkle in our own cohabitational bliss, and kind of my fault too . Y'see, my brother stayed with us for a few weeks once and when he left, he took the following with him:

a) a few quid from one of our housemates (possible but never proven to my satisfaction, and not too bothered about that one now though as the guy in question since revealed himself to be a wanker of the lowest order - obviously Our Kid knew something we didn't even then).

b) the girlfriend of another one of my housemates, whom was a housemate herself until then and sharing a room with her BF. The lad she dumped, a good mate of mine, was devastated and to be honest who'd blame him? Oh, but I had to be diplomatic on that topic for pretty much ever.

My brother and the girl he tempted away from our house back then are still together today though, and with hindsight she and my old mate weren't very good for each other's inner calm. So, there's a happy ending of sorts :)
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 12:43, Reply)

Before he'd even found a place to live...
Not me, but a mate who we'll call Jim was viewing flats in Brum some weeks back. At one place, the existing tenant shows him round, then gets chatting. Now Jim's no shrinking violet and likes the ladies, and the talk turns to pron. They're sitting in the lounge, when said tenant raids his collection of scat DVDs, loads one up, parks himself on the sofa, hits play, retrieves his trouser snake, hands Jim a wad of tissues and invites him to join in, as it were. Within 15 minutes of meeting.

One wonders what sort of flatmate that guy could've been.
Jim managed to avoid procuring any memory of length...
(Good old boy just like yer grandma!, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 12:38, Reply)

Trotters
I once shared a house with a man who was so vile that I considered having him condemned by the local council. He absolutely stank to high heaven - of BO and feet - at all times, but the Summer was a nightmare. It was so bad that you could smell if he was home or not as soon as you opened the front door. He also had disgusting eating habits - everything he ate was cooked in a deep fat fryer (the fat was never changed) apart from the fatal day when he decided to use the oven to cook his scrumptious dinner of pigs' trotters. I'm not joking. I opened the oven to pop in my own dinner and there were what I thought were two human hands poking out of a ceramic bowl - I nearly screamed the house down.
(Mad McMad, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 12:34, Reply)

The weirder one...
His name was Norris, well we called him that because it irritated him. He was and probably still is a fat, sweaty, soap dodging, obnoxious, sanctimoniuos, pain in the arse who firmly believes that he is gods gift to women. He has had some quality indescretions:
- Being caught weiner in hand watching the sky 10 minute free-veiw in the middle of the lounge.
- Sexually harassing a co-worker to the point of nearly getting fired/taken to court (instead we just humilliated him till he moved away)
- Being 'right' all the time, unfortunately he was very stupid aswell as self obsessed and would happily argue that contrary to all available evidence he was right on a selection of subjects over which he had no expertise.
- Was incapable of using a bin, if the bin was out of arms reach he would place the rubbish as near to the bin as he could reach without moving so we could trace where he had been by the line of rubbish.
- Had an amazing surround sound system which required him to sit in the middle of the room blocking every one elses view of the TV, yet was so deaf that when we reversed the rear speakers, wired the left and right channels out of phase and disconnected the centre channel he didn't notice.
- Was so homophobic that if any man touched him he practically went into shock and the slightest hint of male flesh made him have an absolute fit. I used to walk around in a pair of shorts just for the sounds of utter revulsion, if you took off your shirt he had to leave the room.
- Despite being a chemist he failed to spot the problems of storing 20L of nitromethane\methanol fuel for his RC car in warm parts of the house, like on radiators.
- He found mould funny
- His finest hour was arriving at work one day with a black eye so well defined that you could see the knuckle marks claiming to have 'slipped on a wire' we are convinced he got punched by a 12 year old for looking at his girl friend.
- His former colleagues have an outstanding bet that he'll be on the register before he is 30.
So if you are ever unlucky enough to go out in Swindon and see a sweaty dark haired pervert hanging around "The Bedroom" say Hi from me :)
(lankymike, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 11:59, Reply)

May have been me.
Now I'm not a BAD housemate as such, but since starting uni (three and a half years ago, not a failure just on a sandwich course) I've managed to upset flatmates with the following.

- Giving both myself and my then girlfriend food poisoning and proceeding to both throw up in the flats hall. In my defence it was the first time I'd ever cooked chicken, how was I to know?

- Having blazing rows with said former girlfriend early in the morning/late at night. She was madder than a sack of badgers.

- Once in the second year woke up, wandered down to the lounge to find out that on the way home the previous night I'd stolen a generator from some roadworks on the main road.
I wasn't totally to blame however, my occulpice was asleep on the sofa, no idea who they were mind. Took it back the following night.

- Once refused to was a pan as I wasn't the one who used it and it was a right mess. After 2 months my flatmates put it in the garden as it was getting a bit disgusting.
Left it so long that in the end I hid it in the garden shed and left it there when we moved out.
Looking back I'm fairly sure it was me who used it actually.

- Stole a Kill Bill Vol 1 poster from a bus stop (the yellow one with Uma Thurman in catsuit with sword).
Waited for one of the girls to go to the bathroom and taped it over the door frame.
Have never heard anyone scream so loud.

- Learnt to shimmy up the corridor walls just outside the kitchen door and then drop down from the ceiling behind people as they walked out. Scared the crap out of people.

- Never considered there might be two people walking out the kitchen. Not sure if I hurt them or me more.

- Never considered they might be carrying food. Never quite got the stains off the wall. Ended up getting some samplers to just paint over them.

- Superglued Skittles to the ceiling after buying one of the big sweet deals at the cinema and feeling too sick to finished them.
Took lots of paint off trying to get them down and lost some of our deposit.

- Implemented an advanced waste management system.


- Hungover fell down the stairs. Met a flatmate half way and took him with me.

So thats me, not the worst housemate ever and at least its never boring.

Apologies for length, but the bin was bigger.
(UranusHertz is interested in astronomy and electronics, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 11:58, Reply)

Strange behaviour
I feel I must share this extremely odd behaviour from one of my cnuty flatmates. I get up on Sunday morning and decide to wash my sheets but waited til after my shower so I could put my towel in too. Get out of the shower to find that the cnutmaster general has put some washing on (he did three loads last weekend!). The washing machine finished and ages afterwards he went out with his washing still in the machine. Because he regularly leaves his stuff in there til it stinks of stagnent water I decided to take his stuff out and put mine in , got everything dried and sheets back on the bed within about four hours and way before he got home. He didn't hang out his washing til yesterday morning (I'd put his stuff back in the machine after I used it) and then put dirty washing in without turning the machine on. At this point he was very lucky that I'd taken his washing out to do mine - I might have had to kill him otherwise
The really weird thing? After 24 hour this dirty washing has been taken back out of the machine without being washed! Wtf??? If anyone can come up with a rational explanation for this please do let me know - I'm very confused! I almost think he left the dirty washing in there just to infuriate me (all of the other cnuts are away at the moment).
(mmm....beer, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 11:32, Reply)

I suspect
that if any of my former housemates are b3tans I'll feature quite heavily on this one - until recently I've been quite a slob, but have recently resolved to sort my act out. Anyway, I'll leave it to them to fil in the details on that.

My housemate story concerns a very nice, but thick as pigshit, lass in Swansea. This girl was a classic image-obsessed loon: platinum-dyed hair, fake tan a gogo, dieted constantly and ineffectually. She was a nice-sized girl anyway, but always wanted to shed a few pounds.

The way she chose to do this, however, was slightly unconventional. She'd picked up the idea that, as most breakfast cereal is advertised as containing loads of "vitamins and healthy stuff, innit?", and low fat, she would eat nothing else. I did point out that this wasn't nutritionally ideal, but left her to it.

She decided to go with Frosties.

The same girl worked in the radiography department of the hospital, a place you might expect even a receptionist to pick up the rudimentary dangers of over-exposing oneself to potentially harmful radiation. The dominant feature of her room was a sunbed - yes, her own sunbed - which she used EVERY DAY.

By now she's probably the colour of mahogany and has no teeth. Oh well.
( wynoh kills threads by his mere presence, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 11:32, Reply)

I used to live with a dickhead

who was always hanging around with two nutcases.

That's the last time I move into a pair of underpants.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 11:30, Reply)

I've had more than my fair share of weird housemates...
While on placement from uni I had a couple of truely special cases:
- Ukranian woman who turned up unannounced and moved her self in while I was in the shower. Stepped out of the bathroom into what I suspected to be an empty house to be confronted by some woman who didn't seem to speak english (2 days later I discover she's fluent) who didn't want to talk to me because I wasn't a biochemist. I later discover that she's actually much older than I'd thought and has a family back East when she moved them in while I was out. I came back to be confronted by a naked 5 year old in an apparently otherwise empty house. So I went out in the hope he'd go away, when I came back there was a large sweaty man of indeterminate age in the classic 'look at me I'm from europe' attire of dirty white socks and flip flops. Who after some questioning eventually turned out to be my housemates husband and was spending some 'extra time' in the country after being let in to lecture on biochemistry. However she wasn't the weirdest one....
(lankymike, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 11:30, Reply)

ooooh, I've just left a house with a scarey girl in it
My food went missing, which was understandable, as she hadn't been paid recently.

Til I found out she was just taking it out of the fridge / cupboard / freezer and putting it in the bin.


Scarey fucker.
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 11:09, Reply)

Fine to live with, but
My worst flatmate grassed me up to the police for drug related issues, leading to some time on remand and a life long guilt trip from my mother.

Hygiene-wise they were all fine though.
(Benedict., Tue 10 Apr 2007, 10:52, Reply)

Filth Police
My boyfriend, back at uni, lived with about 6 lads in a knock through back-to-back terrace on a dodgy, dirty road in Bradford.

The washer and drier (rarely used) were in the centre of the through lounge to kitchen. Piles of yellow, damp books and tangled wires decorated the floor, the bits of carpet you could see were actually furry with fluff and cig ends.

One of his housemates had taken a load of wet laundry out of the washer and been too lazy to put it in the drier (right next to it), so had dumped it next to the dining table (which was piled high with crap also). Over time it accumulated more dirty clothes and sometimes flies.

One of the lads got mugged by a couple of local scum, right on his own doorstep (NEVER live in Bradford) The rozzers were called and went into his lounge for a statement. Pencil scribbling, one of the coppers looks up and screams like a girl (and he was a bloke). He actually jumps with fear. Housemate asks him what's up and he replies:

"Two rats as big as cats just ran out from that pile of clothes and into the kitchen!"

Housemates reply? Shock? Grabs the Yellow Pages for Rentokill's number?

No.

"Oh yeah. They live in the sofa".

Boyfriend moved out a few days later.
(Northern Lovely, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 10:10, Reply)

Thirty Eight
That’s the number of people I’ve lived with since I left home almost 13 years ago. Of the ones I remember vividly; one was engaged to my best friend and is now marrying another of my mates; one’s a film director; one emigrated to New Zealand, one to Goa; one’s a drug rep, one’s a drug addict; one became a professional athlete, one became a lesbian; one works for NASA, one hasn’t had a job in 8 years; one runs a record label, one’s a professional musician. And one of them’s dead.

But they all tumble into a sea of insignificance compared to *that* one. I thought long and hard about which parables from the Gospel according Rakky I could share with you, would it be the one where I walked in on him wanking in the living room, maybe the one where he set my skirt on fire while I was still wearing it, but finally decided on these two. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you… Jay.

He announced to me one morning that he was going on a detox for a couple of days, like his yoga teacher had advised him when he was living on that ashram at the foot of the Himalayas. Apparently it’s good for the mind and body to enter a healing crisis, allowing the physical and mental interior to be fully cleansed and rejuvenated. “Really?” I replied, over my coco pops. “Bollocks” I thought, as I’m a cynical bitch who has no time for anything remotely wafty or alternative.
This detox comprises of eating nothing and drinking water and green tea for two days. At the end, you’re supposed to feel a sense of euphoria which is to do with the toxins having left your body and nothing at all to do with the fact that you’re on the verge of passing out as you haven’t eaten for two days. Now cynic I may be, but I’ve gone without food for a couple of days after a bout of food poisoning and you don’t need to be a hatchet-faced poo sorter like Gillian McKeith to know that when you reintroduce food into your body you do so slowly. Boiled rice, soups and the like. What you don’t do is what Jay did – to reintroduce two bottles of Rioja and a healthy slug of Cinzano.

Another housemate at the time came in to find him curled up in the foetal position giggling like a loon, waving a fag and half empty bottle around. “Shall I get you some food?” asks housemate 2, slightly concerned that the two bottles of red were about to make a sudden reappearance. “Yeah, let’s go to the chippy!” giggle Jay. Housemate 2 props Jay up at the counter of the chippy and asks what he wants. “Half a roast chicken and chips, “ the now seemingly ex-vegetarian slurred back. The order is placed but there’s a fair few people in the chippy so they have to wait. As they wait, Jay starts to go greyer and greyer and slump further and further down the wall. And then lets rip the most arse splitting, rectum tearing guff heard to mankind. “Tony, “ he bellows over to a mortified looking Housemate 2, “I’ve just shat meself.” Housemate 2 takes him home and stands horrified at the front door as Jay divests himself of his shit filled underwear, drops them in the hall and staggers upstairs to pass out on his bed for the next 24 hours. Housemate 2, meanwhile, clears up the aftermath. Tony, I salute you.

Now, while bad, that incident didn’t really impinge on me personally, think of it more as a scene setter. There were five of us in this house, the aforementioned Housemate 2, Housemate 3, a lovely girl who I’m still friends with and Housemate 4. And me and Jay. Now I’m happy to admit that I’m a touch difficult at times. Ok, I’m as neurotic as a box of cats on a coke comedown, but I’m nice with it. So imagine, if you will, the horror…

I had a special tea mug that I used every morning. Special because it was mine and because it was the size of a bucket which exactly the size of mug a morning brew should come in. And Housemate 4 and Jay broke it during a game of football. Which wasn’t surprising as they were using it as the ball. So I commandeered other bucket sized mug in the house which I naively assumed was Housemate 4’s. One morning, I went down to kitchen to put the kettle on and as I got to the door heard a shout of “NOT YET”… I waited a couple of minutes then walked into find Jay tucking himself back into his jogging bottoms with an “All finished.” My eyes scanned past where he’d been standing and alighted on the sink. Which was full of washing up. Which he’d been pissing into.

“Have you… were you? Did you just piss in the sink? On the dishes?” I spluttered.
“Well, they’re dirty, and I figured they were going to be washed and the bathroom was occupied… Anyway, I do it most mornings, I try to keep it confined to my mug, the big blue one.”

The big blue one. The one I’d been rinsing each morning and putting my fresh piping hot cuppa into. I went upstairs, banged on the bathroom door until Housemate 3 let me in, I then cleaned my teeth till my gums bled. Housemate 4, hearing my keening, stuck his head round the door and asked what the matter was. When I told him he agreed that that was indeed hideous but maybe if I had my own mug, this wouldn’t have happened.

Housemate 3 exacted a much better revenge on Jay than a crappy girly wuss like me ever could. If anyone wants I can post that story too. But I’ve gone on long enough and the nurse will be round with my medication soon, so I’d better stop.

Lengthy it may be, but boy, is it cathartic...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 9:19, Reply)

Never live with vampires (or stoners), they won't share the food bills.
A few years before I met my current housemate/boyfriend-until-the-scrooge-buys-me-a-ring (Mr. PLP), I lived with a couple of stoners. One of them was definitely worth a mention.
A few of the choice things he did/said.
* Told us he was a vampire. Except he was a higher order of vampire - a Vampyre (pronounced, according to the stupid tard, as vam-peer).
* Told us he needn't buy food as he can live off sausage blood. Demonstrated this to us by drinking the foul liquid out of the bottom of a bag of beef sausages.
* Made his own home-made milkshake containing milk and raspberry cordial. Do you known what happens when you mix milk with something containing so much food acid? Try it and see! (spoiler below*)
* Made his own cordial by pouring hot water into an almost empty jar of strawberry jam. Result? Pretty much what you'd expect, hot, watery jam.
* Decided he'd help with some cleaning. Washed the wallpaper with hot, soapy water.
* Refused to admit he'd caused the wallpaper to peel off the walls in hot, soggy strips.
* He'd use hair-remover cream to get rid of his nasty back hair and leave the cream/back hair combo all over the sink.
* On the rare occasion when he did buy food it consisted of: one 20kg bag of rice, two packets of frozen mixed vegetables, twelve eggs and a roll of lunch meat. Just in case anyone out there is writing a book on Vampyre lore, let me share this with you: Vampyres just LOVE fried rice. It's pretty much all they eat.

What did I learn from the 12 months I endured in that house? NEVER live with Vampyres, they're filthy bastards.

*It curdles the milk resulting in a rancid pink, lumpy mess.
(pokey_little_puppy Future Supreme Ruler of the Universe, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 9:00, Reply)

Oh The Horror!
Just think of her as a blonde, Welsh Jade Goody, only, at University. It couldnt be any worse.......

Oh, yeah, there was the time she left the front door and our TV, dvd player and Generic Gaming System shaped like a cube were stolen. It was left open again, and some tramp walked in thinking it was a soup kitchen!!!!

There was the (many) times she cooked oysters and other assorted fish products in an unventilated kitched, without windows open, and the house had to be evacuated due to the overpowering smell.

There was the time she refused to buy anything for the house, and then when confronted, bought the contents of a corner shop and deposited them in our living room.

There was the time she bought her 'gangsta' boyfriend round, only for him to use our house as a storage for his stolen items (although we did get to use a projecter tv for a month - eastenders is much better on 152 inch widescreen)

There as the time she locked her room and her radiator burst, and forgot to tell us, which flooded 3 bedrooms.

She was studying for a fitness!!!! degree, and so wore alot of joggig bottoms, which were not the best thing to see at 7 in the morning.

Oh, and the laugh. Like a howling monkey, only with a welsh accent. I swear to god David Bellamy turned up looking for this rare creature
( useless_rocker twitter.com/phillipteague, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 8:06, Reply)

Scarfie days
OR: how the Hall made monsters of us all.

There was a Hall of Residence in my uni days that I'm sure only existed to take those people who none of the other halls wanted.

It was an ex-psychiatric ward and painted the shade described by Douglas Adams as "Freighting Green" (look it up). This decor had an inversely calmative effect.

Being halfway up a bloody mountainside far from the other halls, we were denied the traditional joys of inter-hostel bottle-rocket battles, couch burning, transvestite ballet, etc, so we had to make our own fun.

There was some of the usual furniture stacking and stealage. Some of us plotted elaborate games of simulated murder or made midnight trips to sleep in caves for no readily apparant reason.

However being unsophisticated types the fun mainly involved the recycling of large amounts of local crap beer in ever new and joyous ways.

We thought the high point was the performance of a Helicopter chunder on the front lawn, until one resident topped it by performing a Pelican with a willing accomplice. It's quite possible that the local brew was actually improved by this method of delivery.

This fine feat of regurgitation was photographed and displayed for all to enjoy on the notice board right by where we queued for our dinner, causing much squeamishness.

(It is to be noted that it took very little to put us off our dinner. All the food arrived in a van, lukewarm, and all too frequently looked like something out of Doctor Who).

I would like to say my university days were happy times that improved me greatly. That alas would be a fib.
(scuttlefish is drifting into the arena of the unwell, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 7:15, Reply)