I just met the friendliest stranger!

Mountain zone? It's all hippies there anyway, right?

Nah, rural Minnesota.

It was like, "WTF WHO THE FUCK IS ... um ... well I'm not being robbed he's just playing playstation."

haha, what the!

Grand Theft Auto IV?

It turned out to be a friend of the guy who just moved in here, but still frazzling that he walked into our house in the middle of the night and just sat down and turned on the tv while everyone was in bed.

(yeah gta4)

(and considering it's a house he's never been to before...)

It turns out we're both named Nate. We bonded.

What is it with these friendly strangers? I met one too!

http://i37.tinypic.com/2vki74n.jpg

He'd better not have written over your saved game. Mother fucker.

"hey you know that mission you were stuck on? guess what i did..."

POW!

Robert Downey Jr., I bet.

Rabies - what happened? You opened the door, went into your living room, said hi, didn't call the cops or beat him up but you just turned on your PC and posted here?

I came out of my bedroom and saw him sitting there pretty passively and said "uh, hi". He passively said "hi" back like nothing was out of the ordinary so I kinda just figured he came home from the bar with my new roommate and that he had just gone to bed and left him there. "Well, Fatty trusts him to just leave him alone..." It wasn't until a minute later when I was going about my business in the laundry room that I realized Fatty, very much out of routine, had not gone to the bar and had actually been in bed for hours.

So I go back out there and walk up to him and say "umm, I don't believe we've met." He gets all oh shit sorry, stranger in your house!, like he just didn't realize. He said he was friends with two of my roommates and knew them by name, was really polite, offers to smoke me up, etc. I wanted to get pissed cuz he just walked in, but he was so damn friendly and just completely passive, I don't know how to yell at that.

Plus the whole WTFness of it had me so rattled.

I remember thinking when I was in the laundry room, "shit...shit...okay...I've got a box cutter in my left pocket...if this gets physical, I go for the eyes"

From the 1993 thread:

I had this friend who delievered pizza for Domino's. He was fat, like hugely, immensely fat. 400 lbs. He'd come over, get drunk, and pass out on the porch. My neighbors thought that we were hardcore because even the pizza boy would get fucked up at our house.

One night, one of my roommates who lived downstairs in the basement, heard all this thumping and stomping going on upstairs. He sneaked around the back and around to the front to see the pizza boy in our living room, playing Tecmo Ball on the NES. Everytime he'd miss a pass or get an interception or have a TD scored on him, he'd flip the TV off with an outstretched arm and scream FUCK YOU! and stomp on the floor for a bit.

My roommate says he watched that fat guy do that for an hour.

An ex-roommate of mine went to a small liberal arts school in a VERY rural area (read: LOTS of drugs), and the entire scene down there was all about just walking into other people's places and hanging out. Very wierd, but apparently, there hadn't been a reported theft of anything there in like 10 years.

This, of course, cultivated a vibe in our shared apartment where, regardless of time of day or whatever else, anyone could be there. At any time! Very non-relaxing.

I, personally, like knowing who is and who isn't in my house.

I can see why you went into law.

My other roommate used to be a 400 lb delivery guy for Godfathers. He couldn't be bothered to stand up or stomp though.

Then he had a goth phase and these days he's a 170 lb guy who trains people in at a blood bank.

This reminds me of one of those Police flyonthewall docs recently.

They arrived after a phone call advising them of a strange large man in someone's living room. It turns out he was convinced he was their new washing machine.

Ended up getting sectioned.

lol severe mental illness

"Doctor, Doctor, I think I'm a pair of curtains!"
"I'm not laughing."

I have to admit that being married really, really cuts into the incidence of "random stoner on my couch, playing video games".

I do have a friend who used to have a really great apartment where we'd all hang out - those were the halcyon days of eat anything and not gain weight, post-college but pre-graduate school, nobody's married, everybody goes out 4+ times a week - and we'd often end up there at the end of the night, after he'd gone to bed. He ended up giving a few of us keys, b/c a) we had woken him up too many times with that shit, b) he knew we weren't going to bring randoms back to the place (we didn't) and he trusted us and c) we always brought over either beer or other stuff.

And those visits only ever happened on weekend/holiday nights. So, we'd roll up there, hang out, crash out, wake up, he'd wake up, and then he'd have a giant crew of friends to hang out with.

Goddamnit, that sounds like heaven when I revisit in my mind. Fuck.

the following is a correct account

we are currently nestled on the tip of one of the many beautiful and remote headlands of cork, directions to which have already been given:

directions to cottage

C u in a few

we'd been told that access to a cove visible from the cottage was possible so we went a-hunting this afternoon before dinner.

nothing that didnt look inaccessible in the obvious directions, so we widened the search and stepped back the road a bit, bidding a genteel how-are-thee to any of the local enormous fucking horseflies that we happened across on the way.

few crossroads and fields and croquet lawns (place is full of affected brits) later, a jim-henson-set looking woody tunnel presents itself. dark, felty, yawning and greeny-endless, we reckon it's worth a bet.

single-filing with shoulders brushing each side, we meet nothing without wings for the next ten minutes of sweaty jacobs-ladder trekking, with no sky nor any outside thing visible nor audible the whole time.

at last, lapping and light from the far end- out we come onto a sideways pier which immediately to the right gives way to a stony beach only visible due to the low tide

cliff either side. squat middle aged man sitting on the only rock of seat size with his back to us, dreamily staring out across the bay to the village we can now see opposite.

he has good hair and teeth, and a broad cork accent as he starts to speak, he says

"yerra

twas a yank bought up that land. moran the name. designs boats, su-per-yachts theyre called. leonardo dicaprio and all has one. 5th avenue the shop is on and monaco, but you cannot buy the yachts from the shop tis only to go into them to talk about the yacht that the shop is for then they build it somewhere else, yerra"

"now the yank has the place bought up. I'll tell you now boy how.

a man had that place bought at the last boom. i dont know was it before or after the boom he bought it but je had no notion what he was doing. he put up half a house and a lot of messing around it.

that mans name was daly. he had built bombs for the ira during the troubles they had in the north and served time and everything. now he had the half house and nothing else but you could walk the dogs up there in that time which was a fine place for the walking yerra.

well he was in trouble and he met a woman she was an english woman though i was told another time she was german and another time she was a yank too.

she had money for him to put into the house now I'll tell you where she got that money"

"she wrote songs for anna lennox and the eurothemics and that was where she had all the money from"

"now the money wasnt enough and she soon got sick of the messing and no house but a half house and soon enough boy that house was up for auction in the hotel back in ross, the one after the bridge- tis an eatery now that hotel but them days twas a hotel.

the boys all around thought they would get the fields and all around the house for next-nothing for the fields arent worth a shite and this man daly needed to sell and they knew it. sure nobody bid before the auction and on the day they were looking to steal it from him altogether.

bit sure didnt these two yanks- morans they were- call into the auction and buy up the whole lot, three hundred fifty thousand and nobody there with a hundred for a bid.

and as soon as they had it bought they started to fence it all off. i was walking the dogs and couldnt get near the place. the yank passed me in the car the same day and slowed down to look at me. i knew the man doing the plumbing at the same time and he told me they had my picture up all over the place for a week til i never came back. its quare strange.

he goes over and back in a helicopter now.

they had abramovich the football man there last christmas i was told.

graham norton has a house the far side. theres a monument there to an egyptian plane crash and he stops nobody from visiting it, which he likely would if hed been a yank.

yerra, i dont be back that way now at all. in fact i never even knew that you could get here from up that way at all. i never seen that road ye came in from before. i only come here because nobody do come here

now twas nice talking to ye ill be off"

and he swam off out to sea.

I imagine this sort of thing happens to you all the time

Just a typical Friday.

i keep my eyes and ears open thats all

Tldr