I wrote a joke while I was driving to work yesterday. Wanna hear it? OK:
Did you see the story about the world’s longest baby being born? Yeah, its birthday is January 25 through 27.
Isn’t that hilarious? …Hello?
Anyway, there’s a house around the corner from us, where the Christmas tree is still standing in the living room. On February 2! And the owners even plug-in the lights every evening. Oh man, that really turns my ass inside-out… I don’t know why, but it does.
When I lived alone in Atlanta I had a Christmas tree one year, and left it in the corner of my living room/kitchen (that’s right, living room/kitchen) until sometime after baseball season had started.
I remember, because my brother came for a visit while that dried-up husk was still in there, and we went to a Braves game. He was howling in protest at my past-due decoration, calling it a fire hazard, so I grabbed the thing and every needle instantly abandoned every limb. There was a ssssh sound, and the “tree” was nothing but a tumbleweed. It weighed roughly two ounces. Heh.
But I didn’t turn on the lights after, say, January 15. So, even during my darkest days I wasn’t as bad as those assmasters around the corner. I feel like staging an intervention. I’m sure Half-Shirt would participate; he’s probably beside himself over there, mumbling and looking out windows.
The world’s worst, however, was a house in Burbank, California. It was/is on Hollywood Way, across the street from the post office, and they kept their place decorated for all holidays year-round. It was insanity.
They had Christmas lights, plastic eggs hanging from the trees, a jack-o-lantern on the porch, red hearts everywhere, a heel-clicking leprechaun leaping over a fat turkey on the front window, etc. etc. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen.
Are there any Surf Reporters in the Burbank area? Can you tell me if that house is still running wide-open on the holidays? Crazy, man.
Further Evidence that the readers of this site are the greatest:
Yesterday I asked if anyone had an mp3 copy of Sunday’s Art Bell show, featuring a freaky-deaky time travel man. And within a couple of hours, I had the entire program on my iPod. Thanks Jerry!
And I also mentioned that I wouldn’t mind a little StumbleUpon action on our new Sport Figures With Filthy Names feature. Now I’m receiving crazy traffic, insane traffic — from StumbleUpon.
So, thanks folks! You guys are the best.
Aging Hipster Alert: I just downloaded Emergency Third Rail Power Trip by Rain Parade. Do any of you remember that under-appreciated classic, from the so-called Paisley Underground movement? Great stuff. I’m listening to it, right now. Guitars are jangling all around this bitch.
And check out my new desktop background, right here. Pretty nifty, huh? Can you see the plaid Top Value Stamps elephants in the back of the store? I love that.
And since I brought up my disgraceful housekeeping during the bachelor years, I’d like to ask you guys about that as well.
For a Question of the Day I’m hoping you can tell us about your first place after leaving home, and the grossness therein. I can’t be the only slob, can I? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
And if you were a bit more prissy than I was, tell us about the really disgusting apartments or houses you’ve visited. Describe it for us… paint a word-picture of the filth…
My Atlanta place was pretty bad, but Greensboro was even worse. My brother and I shared an apartment there for a few years, and it’s a wonder we didn’t have rats. We were horrible, with dirty dishes in the sink and greasy pizza boxes everywhere.
Something happened at one point (and I’m unclear on the details) where an impossible funk was unleashed in the kitchen. Its source was rotting food of some sort, and the smell saturated all our Tupperware. Seriously, every piece of plastic in the kitchen took on this horrible stench, and we couldn’t get it to go away. We finally had to toss everything into the dumpster.
God, I can smell it right now…
Somewhere I have a picture of our kitchen at that apartment, with trash piled up three feet above the rim of the can (balanced), and the counters completely covered in dirty dishes. It would make me insane now — fully insane — but back then I didn’t give a crap.
So, if you have anything on your early disgusting apartments, or the household nastiness of others, please tell us about it in the comments.
And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a fantastic day!
I knew this topic would bring out the hoarding stories! Glad to see I’m not alone. There’s a difference between pack rats and hoarders, by the way. If the ceiling-high towers of crap piled several feet out from the walls doesn’t clue you in, try throwing something of theirs out. Something innocuous, like a plastic lid from a McDonald’s cup, a used tissue, an envelope. Something that registers as trash to a normal person. Try it, I double dog dare ya. Hoarders go six different ways of crazy if you touch their stuff, much less throw it out. If you throw it out it’s a grievous crime against their very soul and you will never be forgiven. Oh yes, hoarders hoard grudges too.
Slugmama: We’re looking forward to finding the secret off site storage units too. Good luck dealing with your other brother.
To all utility peeps: A meter man once told me of some of the crazy things he’s seen in people’s houses. One thing he mentioned were weird “shrines”, I guess to dead kin, famous people, and Lord Jeebus. He didn’t elaborate. I don’t mean to distract from the topic at hand so much as to expand it. Any utility people out there see crazy shrines like that?
just logged in and all I can say is: AUUUUUUGH! AUUUUUGH! AUUUUUUGH! Trip Advisor just released their annual World’s filthiest hotels(with pictures!) Scarier than the filter in the Kardashian hot tub!
Gretchen years ago thw wife and I scraped together a downpayment & went naively looking for a “starter home” Real Estate agent took us out to a very scary place (Scarborough, Ontario) & showed us what turned out to be a very nice 3 bedroom bungalow we were seriously interested when she added it also has a fully finished Basement “but you might not fully appreciate the decor” Bonus!! we thought as we headed downstairs into a huge single room with Bright red walls and a giant freakin Black Swastika dead in the centre! I wonder why we didn’t buy the place!
Pagan: HOLY CRAP!!!
when was kid mom had job interviewing poor people for home improvemts, at gov expense
the aroma from the goats living under house was overpowered by the stench from the 6 or 8 nude unhousetrained children,some were midgets or growth stunted,
obvously the house had no running water by entire famly unwashed aperance
the walls has original 3d moving wallpaper in the dancing roach pattern.
as a 14 yr kid i was amazed
yrs later was discussing them wirh phone dude
he had just came from their house
phone was not ringing
so he opened the phone up
was old type[in 70’s] with bells and hammer inside
the bells were packed full with crushed roaches that were muffeling sound
then today buddy was telling about he dropped in on friend, who was not known as good housekeeper
his friend was very amature taxidermest, VERY AMATURE
was scraping fat off inside rancid deer hide,so rancid hair was falling out everywhere, on kitchen table
my buddy was gagging, and trying to get out without being rude
just then neighbor drops in and gets cup of coffee and sits on other end of table like nothing wrong
buddy barely made it to door before vomiting on porch
he just left
figgured out that they not notice it and hounds would clean up for him
Gretchen said….Slugmama: We’re looking forward to finding the secret off site storage units too. Good luck dealing with your other brother.
Thanks Gretchen, but I won’t be dealing with the other brother. I don’t live in that state and he’s married, so the wifey will have to clean up his shit when he kicks. The only things I want are the family land and the grandfather clock which mom’s will let him keep until he kicks and then it goes to my kids(since he has none). All the rest of it can go into the massive garage sale Sis-IL will have!
He’s a hoarder but not typical. He doesn’t keep literal trash, he only keeps things with merit….things you could sell or give away so you have the piles and pathways but not the mold and infestations. Sounds more packrat but it’s past that into hoarding. He has boxes of clothes he wore in college…he’s now 57. Obviously he’ll never be able to wear 1960’s hot pants with a 28″ waist again.lol
Dog shit on the rug
Pizza boxes stacked askew
Winter closes in
Across the green moss kitchen
Marching toward our lunch
In the dark cellar
Vermin consume detritus
Smacking their wee lips
Cold winter kitchen
Ants in the pressure cooker
Spectacles on rice
Pagan: Funny you should mention the list of the world’s filthiest hotels….
…A few years back a bunch of us piled into a friend’s van and went to a bike show in Columbus, OH. He assured us that the Knight’s Inn, where he made our reservations, was a nice place as he had stayed there the year before. Little did we know the change of ownership went to Indians (dot not feather).
There were 8 of us…reserved 4 rooms. We got there, they oversold 2 rooms…so we had bunkies. Fine. We walk into the room and all gasped. R U SERIOUS??? The carpet was circa 1955, and looked to have never been cleaned. EVER. The lamp shades looked like they were used for target practice…bullet holes through out. They were also a nice shade of yellow from all the previous cigarette smoke. NO drawer fronts on the dresser…just open air storage. The drapes and shower curtain were suspended with all of the following and in no particular order: Elastic hair bands, safety pins, mop string, zip ties.
The bathroom had not been cleaned from the last “guest” as there were still used shampoo bottles, soap and bobbypins (??) all over the place. The place was so gross we refused to even pull the covers off the bed. So we slept in our clothes. There was one pillow for two beds. We opted to use our coats for pillows.
CSI should go in to take samples for a crime scene. We now affectionately refer to it as The Cat Scratch Inn.
This brings on memories of an apartment I share with a few biker friends in FL. Kitchen table took apart and placed against wall to make room for assembling a harley-davidson. At one time there was a Sportster engine in the bathtub.
Endtables were each two cases (empty bottles, of course!) of long-neck budweisers; coffe table was the same, a door resting on empty cases of bud.
Erica in Charlotte says
We live in Charlotte. About 12 years ago, we lived in an apartment that was quite nice, no complaints for almost two years. Then, about three months after our first Secret was born, ants moved in. Small ants, but millions of them. We kept seeing them in the strangest places – our kitchen (which we kept clean, no food out), making long lines up door jambs, even inside the water reservoir of our frickin IRON. How bad does an infestation have to be, if they’re in your iron? Apartment maintenance did little to help us, and the ants persisted. The final straw was seeing ants in the baby’s crib, concentrated in one small patch where he had spit up – it was apparently a big feast for these ants.
Finally, after long assuming we were the Culprits of Filth, the management investigated the apartment next door. Lo! Twas THAT filthy woman, with a kitchen counter covered in plates of uneaten food, just rotting away, covered in ants. (The food, not the woman, dead in her apartment. Though I might have been more understanding if that were the case.) You’ve seen episodes of Intervention or Hoarders? It was something like that. Apparently she was a flight attendant and was gone for days at a time, leaving her stinking pit of ordure unattended.
The ants could not be eliminated, and we were forced to move to another place altogether. Ah well.
Erica in Charlotte says
Also, since Pagan was kind enough to report that Trip Advisor’s list of Dirtiest hotels is out, here is a link, because reviews are always enjoyable…
Such as this from a hotel in San Francisco:
“The rooms are grubby to say the least. As I type there are some questionable brown mud-esque marks on the bedroom chairs, grubby fingerprints all over the curtains, the TV has the power button missing and can only be turned on if we poke a door key into the hole and the traffic can be heard quite clearly through the poorly fitted secondary glazing.”
Love that he’s sitting there IN the squalid room, observing all and writing it down for the rest of us. Had to be a Surf Reporter.
Swami Bologna says
Erica: You taught me a new word today — ordure. And it’s a good one. Thank you.
I was compelled to Google “odure”….and that just never leads to anything good:
Swami Bologna says
Erica’s word is different, Gretchen, it has an “r” after the “o”. Ordure.
My first apartment was when I first left home to attend Marshall, and my roommates and I had a place with wall-to-wall brown shag carpet. The carpet was even in the bathroom! (Ewww). Anyway, I was getting out of the shower one night when I noticed that a mushroom, yes a MUSHROOM, had sprouted out of the carpet along the bathtub. Mmmmmmmm…..Come to think of it, I should’ve eaten it. We were going out that night;)
I went to college at Marshall back in the 80’s. I used to share a house with 4 or 5 other students at any given time.
The place was on 6th Ave at the site of the current Speedway two blocks from the “new” library.
Anyhow, I came upon the place through my side job doing construction work. The owner lived in Lexington, KY and he agreed to rent me and another guy the place if we would not require him to do any. maintainence. whatsoever.
So, for $500 /month we subletted to three other guys who basically covered all the rent ( Me and my buddy lived rent free !! ) but we all shared the power bill etc.
The entire house was a fire trap and the Fire Marshall had condemned the third floor for human habitation. The walls in the kitchen were separating from the floor ( sill ) and you could look through the 2″ crack and see outside.
Anyhow, we had a BAD rat problem. BAD. Once one of my roomates cooked up a bunch of pasta and sauce and put it in the fridge. Next day after class he goes and opens up the fridge and a huge Norwegian Rat leaped out of the fridge and bit him on the inner thigh.
We decided we had had enough and went to war. I went to the hardware store and bought some of those big rat traps ( probably 10-12 or so ), baited them with government cheese ( yum ) put them in the kitchen, turned off the lights and waited.
We didn’t have to wait long. I sat in the adjoining living room and over the span of about 10 minutes I heard the traps going off, one by one.
I went over and turned on the kitchen light and laid on the floor before me at various strategic locations were dead rats. BIG RATS, Rats big enough to do battle with any cat or small dog.
Anyhow, I moved out the next semester. My girlfriend at the time refused to visit me there and I got tired of having to stay at her house if I wanted to sleep with her….
Swami: Aw crap! So I read all that grossness (and shared it) for nothin’. Thanks for the correction.
My younger brother used to shuck and jive for money, he’s never had a proper job. He’d take on small remodeling projects and then use these two Mexican guys to do the actual work. I don’t know how to spell their names but they were pronounced “she-oh” and “schety”. They called themselves cowboys but had no legitimate reason for the title. They didn’t have horses or even boots. But I guess “cowboys” sounded better than “gay Mexican jacks-of-all-trades that would work for next to nothing”, so whatever.
My brother and I went to their house one afternoon to drink beers and the whole way over he was telling me what slobs they were and to look for this and that. Looking back, I’m glad I had him to explain some of the weird shit I saw.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. There weren’t any pets so I have no idea what caused it. It smelled like taco meat and sharp underarm odor. There was an ironing board in the kitchen. They didn’t have an iron so they’d heat a skillet on the nearby stovetop and use that to iron their skin-tight camo t-shirts and jeans (their favorite uniform). Their bed was a pool table with a matress thrown atop it. They’d started to shorten it by sawing the legs off but apparently decided the huge ass legs were too hard to saw through with a fucking hand saw so there was only one shortened leg, cinder blocks and a couple of books kept things level.
The bathroom was perhaps the best part. There was a garbage bag full of underwear sitting beside the toilet. I stood there pissing and thought about how odd it was to have a trash bag full of used underwear laying in the bathroom. Then I looked in the tub and saw dozens of underwear laying in there with shit stains all over them. They’d wipe their asses with the used underwear and then toss them in the tub (the tub was dry, mind you. They used it as a trash can). Apparently they could buy bags of underwear from Goodwill for less than the cost of toilet tissue, that’s the best I could come up with.
They showed me their deep freezer and I jerked away, but not before seeing a small goat laying in there with its hair and everything else intact. They’d taken the guts out and then froze the whole damn thing. I have no idea.
There was a tractor tire hanging from the ceiling in one of the bedrooms. There was nothing else in the room. My guess is that it was a gay sex swing of sorts.
There was a third guy there and he didn’t say shit the whole time we were there. He just sat there on a bean bag, nodding off. I think he was stoned. He had a huge softball sized sore/hole on his thigh. When I saw it I puked in the kitchen trash can, which turned out to be their clothes hamper instead of a trash can (sitting there waiting to be ironed with a skillet, I guess).
That place was a fucking nightmare. I’ve not seen anything like it since.
We got to bring the new baby boy home today. He’s doing great.