weird people your flatmates bring home

Professor???

"Eggs"????

Dave brought home a guy called Dave, who looked like every Camdenite fuckwit stereotype combined into one body. He then split vodka over the Playstation, which hasn't worked since.

My lodger only ever brings fellow Christians home. They are unfailingly polite and friendly and stupidly respectful - they are inclined to call me sir.

Suzy to thread! : - )

Hey Sonny! WTF have you been? Would you say my flatmates thought I'd brought a weirdo back when you popped by?

But he's right. Ladies and gents, I give you...Hilton Betelgeuse and the DDB/Nuggets casualties 'forced' to dance in pants by Kate.

In past flats: my houseguest Jenny had many well-known friends who were completely RANDOM in terms of being at my house. There's the well-known drug casualty journalist who she really shouldn't have shagged on the floor, the guy who was on Big Train etc, the lesbian comedienne who isn't Rhona Cameron, the guy who directed The Warrior. The dyke actually got bowl-huggingly ill after a night of heavy drinking. I was ever so slightly repulsed by the journalist.

In our great big share in Hampstead there were: Scottish architecture students who stopped at the Borders in autumn to harvest a bin-liner full of what they called 'the wee guys', countless bands visiting because of our flatmate who did press for Southern Studios, the entire party crowd from a Stereolab aftershow. When I lived in Primrose Hill there were all sorts of weird South London associates of my flatmates, who ran Balearic nights - and of course scads of really boring, minging handbagger club girlies who would wind up 'all back to mine' at their behest.

hey suzy.... yeah, i would think that i would be considered a weirdo! hahahaha.... i just got back from barcelona, amazing city, the anti-war protesters built a small shanty town and played dub all night long a\nd all had strokes hair - it was very may '68 paris riots - or at least ini my head ...

before that - just writing, writinig and writing - did some us press releases for some of my favourite bands, did some liner notes for biff bang pow, some live reviews, etc....

and what else? am going to paris this weekend ... we HAVE to hang out soon!!!

this thread made me laugh - my middle name is Xavier ... but i keep that quiet ... ________ malachi tremaine xavier ____________. And scarily enough - my mother has never done drugs ...

Well, it sounds like the impetus was a belief in transubstantiation, if y'know what I mean. And religion is the opiate etc...

: - )

I am going to Paris next weekend, not this weekend ...

Momus had his quote severely chopped for the Biff Bang Pow liner notes - : - ( Not enough space ... they did sound like the indie version of spinal tap - momus and alan on tour ... which would make a better book then ... liner notes ....

The Picasso museum was fascinating ... a busker was playing intense spanish music, a police motorcyle roared by, hit an italian woman, she fell with a high pitched scream, was lift up, like the raising of christ, or some religious ceremony in ye olde national geographic and all i could see was her shaky hands steady herself on a door ... good introduction to the love and violence that picasso had for women.

One of my flatmates has a kid, so hoards of surly 8 year olds stampede us on weekends. It's pretty weird finding Charmander in the fridge cheese compartment again.

The other flatmate is a role player, so we also get the occasional drunk geek in Crimean War regalia. Spiffo.

My flatmate shits in a box in the kitchen.

Your flatmate is Mike Patton?

Well, I should hope that the cat doesn't dump in places other than the litter box!

A few years ago I came home drunk to find two guys I'd never seen before hanging out in front of my front door. Inside was my roommate, who said, "Mookieproof, let me introduce . . . what was your name again?" to the blond girl he had his arm around. Then whilst trying to change the CD, he mixed up which hand had the new CD and which had the beer, and poured High Life into the CD player. I'm told they had extraordinarily loud sex later, but fortunately I passed out.

Suzy brings WAAAAYYYY more weirdoes round the flat than I ever have! Some of them she leaves on the couch for weeks at a time while she pisses off to the Isle of Mann for New Years!

Taking sides: Two nights of Hilton Betelgeuse vs. TWO WEEKS OF MOMUS!!!

I would be very happy if I was finding pokémon in my fridge.

Kate: Nick wins that contest hands down, not leastways because when he is here, I return from errands or whatever to find he has tidied the piles of books and press releases into something like order (and there are a lot: many trees die so PRs can send me bumf by the bushel).

Ah, so Nick is good because he compensates for your own laziness and slovenliness?

I live with Jerry the Nipper. Which means THE PINEFOX!

Kate, if you want to moan about sloth on my part, don't do it here. Especially as it's not strictly true.

So you can snipe at my taste in men on this thread, but I cannot snipe at your bad habits? Oh, I love the smell of double standards in the morning...

HB = ASSH*LE. We both know that. I'll say what I like (as long as it's true) about anyone fool enough to mistreat my friends. However the Retro Thong Wearers were simply classic and news of their antics put a smile on my face, so that's not sniping either.

There is no double standard: I'd just rather not read about how slovenly I'm meant to be when I'm sitting in the same spotless house you left 20 minutes ago.

can I argue with my flatmates on here?

maybe I should start a new thread for it or hijack another.

The only point over which we cannot argue is this:

Your Idea Of Spotless != My Idea Of Spotless

No value judgements. End of discussion.

Ed to thread!

I do not mind about the people as long as there is no scary FRENCH BOOZE. (Speaking of which where is our postcard).

My favorite story happened to a friend of mine... he was fast asleep when he heard his roommate and a bunch of people in the next room. He came out in a stupor and muttered, "I have to work tomorrow. Could you guys please use sign language and stop talking?," then tried to go back to sleep. Two seconds later, his roommate came in and said, "Dude! You're not gonna believe who's here!" It was a local TV news anchorperson for one of the smaller local stations. But my friend was so exhausted he just said, "Well he better be quiet," and fell back asleep. Anyway, next day, and my friend is at work... now he's wondering if he DREAMT the whole thing. It turns out the TV anchor person was hitting on the roommate's friend's sister at the bar. TV anchor person wanted to tag along with roommate's crew, and the roommate said he only could if he brought a case of beer. So there was 40-odd year-old black Detroit TV anchor person drinking beer and smoking pot in my friend's living room. Not weird, but definitely random.

My first year university flatmate Michelle had some odd friends. She also befriended the freak boys next door. They were:

1) Both engineering students, not always a bad thing, but these two lived down to the stereotype.
2) One of them never spoke.
3) The other one was a role player.
4) He also used to bring round his terrifying PVC-clad girlfriend.
5) The two would then sit at our kitchen table shrieking about having threesomes and the odd places they'd had sex. I'm not a prude, but the pictures called to mind by the two were not a pretty thought.

The other one was my flatmate C, who once, very drunkenly ended up nearly shagging a lynch pin of the university Pagan society. He was about 6' 4", super pierced with a free and easy approach to hygene. She was recounting the awful experience when the doorbell rang.
He was standing on the doorstep, so we had to let him in. He sat in our kitchen for an hour telling us all how his experience with C the previous night had caused him to propose to his girlfriend who said yes. If that wasn't enough he kept coming round, talking about his veruccas and eating all our bread.

My roomy brought over this girl who insisted on making every game into "strip ________". Strip poker, strip pool, strip foosball, strip charades, etc. It was kinda cute in a drunken ha-ha way at first, but it got REAL old REAL quick.

Oh yeah, and once I was having a little get-together, and she brought over this dude (she didn't know him that well) who ended up drunkenly humping my piano. He thought it was HYSTERICAL funny. We ended up having to kick him out. He sat in my front yard for at least 45 minutes laughing and talking to himself before he walked home.

There was also mad flatmate B's awful boyfriend. He stopped coming to our house after my flatmate G ran into him in a take away shop one evening. She was coming back drunk from a fancy dress party and stood right in the middle of The Taste Of Kashmir, dressed as a belly dancer, and gave him a full-volume run through of all his faults from leaving toenails in the shower to being an alcoholic looser with no direction. The staff sent her a Christmas card that year. They didn't like him either.

One of my roomates used to invite his "posse" over sometimes. one kid would always get drunk and rather obnoxious he thought he was Eminem. One of my friends leaped over a table one night and grabbed the kid by the throat and told him he would kill him. He left soon afterwards but not until he threw up Chicken Parm out my window onto the girl belows air conditioner.

Taste of Kashmir Barber Road, those were the days.

My roomates in university were either taken or never picked up or brought someone home.
That was always my job I guess. It was kind of annoying when people sleeping on the kitchen table became my fault by default. I guess it topped out when I subletted to one person in the spring, when we went back in the fall there was a four member punk band parked in the living room, the girl and her bf (who was my editor) who we were expecting, her best friend from high school and her bf and at least three other people in the other room. We got a collection of awful videos, an organ and a few hundred more out of the deal so that was alright. Though my roomates never forgave me. I think they were holding out for the broken guitar instead of the organ.

Was the taste of Kashmir near another really good curry house called something like the engineer? I went there once, it was after England vs Switzerland in Euro 96, before ending up in the SU, which was pretty hellish.