"A house guest of mine took a bowl of spaghetti O's to the guest bedroom, in the new house that we had just moved into four months prior. He proceeded to drop the entire bowl onto our off-white carpet.
In his desperate attempt to fix the problem, he used the bath towels and a few linens to try and wipe it up. All this did was grind the sauce and pasta into the carpet. Some people might be mad about that part of the story, but it gets better. Since he didn't know where the carpet cleaner was, or the steam vac, and since he didn't want to bother my wife or me with his screw up, he proceeded to use bleach to try and 'make the stain disappear.'
After he left our home, two days later, we found the mess and attempted to clean it up with the steam vac. It removed the majority of the red sauce, but once it dried, it became obvious that the carpets had been bleached. I know you're wondering, what idiot would do such a thing? That responsible person was my father-in-law."
"A friend showed up wasted when I invited him over. He brought a friend of his whom I didn't know, who was also wasted, and who was an admitted felon. He eventually punched a hole in the hallway wall outside the door of my apartment and tried (not a threat, actually tried) to run over my girlfriend's sister's boyfriend with his car out of something resembling jealousy.
Three people, myself included, called the police. Several people witnessed the attempted vehicular homicide. One of the other residents even came forward when a cop finally arrived 20 minutes later and said that my friend's friend had previously come to her apartment and threatened her while she was pregnant (apparently everyone in town knew this guy but me). There were tire tracks, there was a fist-shaped hole in the wall outside my apartment door, and there was damage to the landscaping from his car, plus the injuries incurred by the aforementioned girlfriend's sister's boyfriend when he dove out of the way, including bloodstains on the sidewalk where he landed.
The cop said: 'It's a case of he-said-she-said. I can't do anything unless I saw it happen myself.'
So, the most messed up thing a person ever did in my house was to be completely useless as an emergency responder."
"When I was 14, a girl overheard I was having a party and simply came in with some of the people we knew in common. I assumed they had invited her; they assumed I had invited her.
Well, she would not leave. After everybody else was gone, she told my mom her dad was having car trouble and could she sleep over - OK, no problem. My mom saw no harm in it.
But this girl - well, she was a bit obsessed with wanting to be me. She tried on all my clothes; when I said I had to do chores, she cheerfully joined me in doing them 'so we could be done faster' - and even after lunch, showed no signs of leaving.
We did not know how to get rid of her politely - never encountered this before. It took us another day and a half and only the threat of calling the cops if she didn't leave before she would get out. (And no, could not have driven her home - did not know her address and too nice to just dump her somewhere.)
It freaked me out. I later learned she started imitating my hairstyle and clothing. I felt creeped out, but also very sorry for her."
"Unfortunately, I've got a story from the 'guest' side of this.
I was hanging out with my high school buddy, and we'd often hit this little mom n' pop restaurant down the block from him. These guys sold the best buffalo chicken tenders, so obviously, that's what we ordered. Pretty typical routine for us.
We get back to his place, stuffed and exhausted from video-game-binging all night, so we decide: 'Hey, it's 3 p.m., but screw it, we're down for the count.' So he falls asleep, and I crash on some blankets and pillows and stuff on his floor.
I wake up a few hours later feeling like garbage. I feel disgusting, sweaty and my stomach is screaming: 'Assume the position!' I get up, walk to the nearest bathroom, and lose my lunch into the porcelain throne. Mission success! I stumble back to my makeshift bedding like some kind of animal.
But things didn't go down the way I had thought.
Hours later, I wake up to my buddy's mom and her sister talking. My buddy walks into the room, obviously feeling as bad as I did, and says: 'Dude, did you throw up earlier?' To which I respond: 'Yeah, sorry bro, but it's cool I made it to the restroom.'
'Well, yeah, you made it to the restroom,' came his reply, 'but you threw up everywhere.' 'Everywhere? What do you mean by 'everywhere'?' I asked incredulously.
Apparently, I had stumbled up to the bathroom door, opened it and immediately began vomiting as soon as I stepped foot into the room. I turned 90 degrees, vomited all over his towel rack (and the towels hanging from it) and then all over the top, middle, and bottom of his toilet. There was vibrant orange, Tabasco-tinged, chicken vomit all over this poor bathroom. And my messed up fever-fueled mind said: 'Yep, you totally hit the mark man, perfect execution! Back to sleep.'
His aunt ended up cleaning it up before I had woken up, poor lady."
"This is one of the most messed up things to ever happen to me. It was an average night during my freshman year of college. I had just finished a batch of laundry. I had done so much laundry that evening that the clean clothes spilled out of my hamper onto a second pile.
I was studying for a calculus test and my roommate, a friend from high school, was bored. He decided that he wanted to go out to the local bars with all of our friends. He also decided to host the pregame party in our dorm room. So while trying to study, they were maybe 15 people in my room getting their drink on, including a guy, we'll call him Jim, who graduated a couple of years before me and his Hungarian plumb drink, a vile drink of 60 percent. After about an hour of heavy drinking, the group left leaving me with some peace and quiet.
Then 40 minutes pass and I get a desperate call from the group's designated driver begging for me to help him carry Jim in. I run outside and find the DD carrying Jim who is blacked out, the kind where you know the guy isn't going to remember anything. DD and I care for Jim for the rest of the night until he passed out on our futon. I went to bed shortly after and the DD, exhausted, went to sleep in my roomie's bed.
I would like to pause the story here and say that my roommate and I had adopted a somewhat feral cat and named him Pharrell.
The last thing I remember seeing is Pharrell curled up in a ball on Jim's chest.
At some time during the night, my roommate would return and upon finding the DD in his bed laid claim to the red chair we had, displacing my clean laundry on the floor. Around 7 a.m. I heard Jim awaken and leave, and I woke up around 7:30 a.m. unprepared for my test and went to get dressed.
I reached into the hamper to grab some clothes and noticed that they were all wet in places. Upon smelling them I realized it smelled like pee. At first, I blamed poor Pharrell but upon sifting through the second pile of clothes and finding them peed on, it dawned on me.
Jim urinated on all of my clothes! Every single bit of them.
Screw you, Jim. Screw you!"
"A 'friend' of mine put my cat out on the balcony at night, when everyone was sleeping 'because she wouldn't stop meowing.' We lived on the 14th floor. I found her in the morning hiding under a tree with six broken ribs. He never said sorry.
This was five years ago, and I moved out shortly after that incident. That cat barely ever meowed, she was a very quiet cat - so I have a hard time believing his story/reasoning.
Cats don't have the greatest long-distance depth perception. My guess is she was trying to sit on the railing/jump to the next railing or chase a bug or something. The vet said she must have hit a lower balcony on her way down, thus breaking her ribs but also allowing her to survive.
I hated that psycho from day one, and this just made me want to hurt him. It wasn't his fault she got out the second time (which she didn't survive, and I no longer lived there so I don't know how she got out unsupervised that time)."
"Bad guest story!
I got blackout wasted for the first time at the house of someone I'd met only a few hours earlier, locked myself in the bathroom, and vomited copiously while clutching myself and sobbing hysterically. I texted them the next day, apologizing and offering to clean up any mess that was remaining or pay for any professional cleaning they might have had to do.
They responded, saying that they had no idea that even happened because apparently one of the things I did while blacked out was scrub the bathroom down and clean up after myself. Apparently, that bathroom hadn't been cleaned since they moved in and my wasted self could not handle vomiting into such a gross toilet.
You'd think this would be a one-off, except I did this again a couple years later at my own apartment. My roommates were confused to wake up to a sparkling bathroom. And I still don't understand it."
"I got a call from a high school friend asking if I could house a friend of his for a week. The friend had just been relocated to my city and needed transition housing, so I agreed.
So this guy arrives. He seems nice enough. A few days in, the situation changes. The night before the 'incident,' I made a big pot of stew for dinner the next day. I get home from work to find my apartment re-arranged. He is in the middle of going through my closets when I walk in. He's re-arranging items and throwing boxes out. I stop him. I'm in shock.
I then go to heat up some stew. He ate the whole pot. He didn't even leave me a bowl.
I was dumbfounded.
I later found out that the guy was addicted to illegal substances, which explained his behavior."
"A buddy of mine got wasted. We came home and put him to sleep on the couch.
My wife yells for me to come in the TV room. He's peeing on my subwoofer and then over to the fireplace.
Put him to sleep again. While I'm cleaning his vinegar-smelling urine of everything, he starts projectile vomiting all over the couch, the throw rug, and himself.
We roll up the rug and put it outside. Take the cushions off the couch and have him take his jeans off to clean them.
While I'm putting the jeans in the washer, we hear the front door open. The dude is trying to drive his truck home wearing just his underwear. End up taking his keys and putting him back to bed.
When I woke up in the morning, there was a frozen pizza partially cooked with bite marks taken out of it and a check for $150 with 'Rug' written in the memo line."
"My sophomore year of college, my roommate was having a birthday party/Christmas party, and there were about 30 people at the party. We're all drinking and having a good time when one of my friends offers me something to drink, and we proceed to go outside. We start talking about all the stuff we pulled that semester and what we were doing for winter break when I suddenly get a call from my girlfriend at the time and go inside to talk to her in the quietness of my room. I was probably on the phone for about five, maybe ten minutes when I start to hear screaming and crying coming from outside my room door. I told my girlfriend I would call her back, and go outside to see what was going on.
Apparently, in those ten minutes that I was talking to my girlfriend, the friend I had just been smoking with had located my roommate's (whose birthday it was) safe and ended up taking his life in my roommate's bathroom. I'll never forget the horror on all of my friends' faces as the cops and ambulances pulled up to the house to retrieve the body.
Obviously, I was upset and confused as to why this had happened and was deeply saddened by my friend's death. As a result of this, I had to leave the university that I had just transferred to, which included leaving my girlfriend and the life I had just worked so hard to develop for myself there because my parents demanded I move back to my hometown.
I began to resent my friend for what he had done, as it really derailed my life for the next six months, and caused a lot of tension and guilt between the roommates, who I have since grown distant from. I know that may sound selfish of me, but at that moment in time, I thought that that was the most selfish move someone could have pulled, especially towards their friends and family.
Years have passed since then and I ended up transferring back to the university and graduated this past December. My girlfriend and I broke up right before I transferred back which I honestly think is one of the best things to ever happen to me. I have learned to forgive my friend and do not hold any bitterness or resentment towards him, and have nothing but love for him. I only wish he would've gotten help earlier because we had a very large friend group which would have been able to support him and show him how much he was truly loved. We still speak fondly of him whenever his memory is brought up, and I'm glad I was able to spend his last moments with him. I hope he rests in peace."
"I was at my apartment with my roommate, his girlfriend, his friend, B, and one of my friends, J. The five of us were drinking, BBQing and just having a good time from about 7 p.m. to midnight. Around this time, my roommate and his girlfriend retire to his room so it's just J, B, and me.
By this time, we already busted out the hard stuff. We're playing cards and just having a good time. Then B, who's quite wasted at this point, goes on a rant about his brother and how much of a rebel he is; 'My brother is in the Marines!' He was just being obnoxious.
He turns to me and asks: 'Were you in the service?' I told him I hadn't been and he scoffed. He then turns to J and asks the same. Now J was a former army ranger, but he didn't go bragging about it. So he told B about it, hoping it would shut him up, and he tried to steer the conversation away but B would not quit. He kept going on about how the marines were the most rebellious and bad mouthing the army for about 10 minutes. J was getting mad, rightly so, and so he stepped outside. I went to wake up my roommate, but he was passed out, no answer.
This guy was never in any branch of the military yet felt compelled to vicariously berate and insult anyone not in the Marines because his brother was, and he was the best. Who does that? Seriously; anyway here's the crazy part.
B decides it's a good idea to go bother J outside while I'm attempting to wake up my roommate to handle his friend. Well, that didn't go so well for B. Before I knew it, J has B in a sleeper hold and he's leaking from the face as well. I got J off of him eventually, and he went home, only about five minutes away.
I finally got the roommate up, and we put sleeping B on the couch. Roommate goes to sleep again, but B wakes up 10 minutes later. No memory and irate. After restraining him and trying to explain the situation, he isn't having any of it. He breaks free of my grasp and tries to swing at me. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't having any of it either. He went to sleep for the second time that night. Woke up the roommate again and left to J's place just in case the cops came or something.
About 20 minutes later, I get a call from my roommate. He was outside J's place. He comes in and tells us that after I left B woke up a THIRD time with no memory, but this time in a rage. He grabbed a kitchen knife and started slashing the walls of our apartment. My roommate had to wrestle him for the knife and knock him out a THIRD time. He dragged him outside and came to see us. He was never seen again.
We all just sat there at about 3 a.m. chilling, laughing, and massaging our knuckles. No idea how the cops were never called. It was LOUD!"
"I have two stories.
One: Our toilet was clogged (poop was in the toilet), and we were waiting to get it fixed when a friend came to visit. He had to go, so he took a double stack poop. He took a poop on top of another poop. Which remained there for a whole day.
Two: I drank two caffeinated adult beverages after being introduced to them for the first time. Later that night, I ran into my friend's bathroom, past his toilet and threw up everything I had eaten that week into his sink. To this day, I don't have a good answer for why I didn't throw up in the toilet.
Bonus karmic justice: The friend who double stacked my toilet is the one who still asks why I threw up in his sink."
"This happened a while ago. So, my little brother had one of his friends needing a place to crash for the night, and it was fine at first, but then the guy brought his girlfriend along without telling anyone, and it's not like he's going to say: 'You can come but not her.'
Anyway, come morning (and my mom told me this later), my mom came into the kitchen to begin her day and get some breakfast. Well, apparently, the guy and his girlfriend were participating in some heavy hanky-panky. Startled, my mom didn't know what to say as everyone else was still asleep but her and the amorous couple getting it on on the couch. So, giving them a moment, she goes to the bathroom and makes noise and stuff so that they hopefully finish up and she can pretend she didn't see anything.
Well, she finishes up in the bathroom, and nothing changed. They're still participating in their little horizontal dance, so my mom (still afraid of straight-out confrontation) passive-aggressively begins banging around in the kitchen, fixing a sandwich and turning on the TV. Well, they still keep going along and apparently they quietly finish up. It was about this time that I woke up and came upstairs to fix myself something to eat.
Well, the first thing I see is this girl's bare back putting on a shirt. My innocent morning-mind just thought the girl had moved from our second couch to snuggle with her boyfriend and apparently didn't want to use our bathroom or anything to change her clothes. I would never have thought they were having a go at it, in front of my mom. I just went along with my normal morning cereal and yogurt breakfast routine and they left about 30 minutes later, me none-the-wiser about what had happened.
It wasn't until my brother woke up and came upstairs and my mom, very sternly, tells him: 'They are not allowed here anymore.' My brother and I were confused, and he asks why. So my mom tells him that the guy (and his girlfriend) had been hooking up in her house in front of her as she made breakfast for herself. My brother got this serious look on his face and said: 'That's messed up.' There were about 15 minutes of incredulously going: 'No way, are you serious? On the couch? Right in front of you? Have they no shame?'
Well, a few days later my brother comes to us and says that he 'took care of it' and that the guy wouldn't be coming by anymore. I asked him a bit later how the conversation went, he said something along the lines of: 'Once we punched him he seemed to get it.'"
"Mom let my brother's friends come over and party whenever they wanted. They basically trashed my mom's house over the course of six years.
One of his friends punched a hole in the wall.
Another friend threw up in my bathroom sink and left it overnight. I ended up waking up to it at 6 a.m. before I had to leave for school.
One of his friends dropped some coal on our carpet, and it left a burn mark.
My mom was driving me home from a friend's house when I was 15. One of his friends was hooking up with his girlfriend in our driveway.
There are more stories. I basically lived in a frat house from the time I was 14 to the time I was 20. As an introvert that wanted to be left alone, it sucked.
I can't say I never got involved in the activities. I was a shy person for awhile because I went through an awkward, depressing phase after my parents got divorced. My mom basically went crazy after they got divorced and stopped caring about everything except the church. She's religious, or she claims to be. It's all she talks about. She claims she let people over because it kept them safe, which is understandable.
The main problem I had with them was how disrespectful they were to the other people that actually lived there. If you're a guest at a house, even if you've been there a million times, there's no excuse to be rude. I wanted space of my own, and I never had it because there were always people there."
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