Meet "Sweet" Jimmi; an insane architect from the U.K, my Facebook friend for the last four years and um.... THE FUCKING HOUSE GUEST FROM HELL. Check this out:
Jimmi messaged me in the early part of December asking if it would be cool if he crashed at my place for a few days around New Years Eve, as his original plans fell through. I explained that I have roommates but that he was welcome to stay in the living room as long as he didn't smoke (Cigs) or have anyone else inside the apartment while I wasn't home, to which he graciously agreed.
During the later part of the afternoon I called to check in with him - he answered the phone inebriated! From what I could translate, he was carousing around Brooklyn (alone) going into different bars getting hammered & on a scavenger hunt for his two favorite pastimes, Blow and Pussy. Thankfully, Sweet spent that the night in Williamsburg.
Fast forward to 6pm on Friday: I came home from work to pack my things and told Jimmi that he could stay in my room since I was going away for the long New Years eve weekend. I even made a joke like.. "Don't whack off or do anything inappropriate in my bed"- never thinking for a moment that he'd actually consider doing anything along those lines. I figured that since my roommate and her boyfriend (who had been away for a week visiting their families over Xmas) would be flying back from Seattle VERY early Saturday morning, that it would be best if they didn't walk into some strange dude sleeping in our living room. (I probably should have informed them that I was having a guest stay over for a few days in the first place but, it totally slipped my mind.)
Two joint's of sour diesel and a hot toddy & later my phone started blowing up. It's now like 1am and I'm super relaxed, spending time with the man I'm crazy about, sucking face and listening to Grizzly Bear. The last thing I wanted to do was get up to look at my phone.
.... Two hours later I had 15 missed calls from my roommate, text messages demanding that I call her and a voice mail that went something along the lines of this:
"Sam it's Jo, Kurtis and I just walked into the fucking apartment and there is buck naked fat black chick riding some a skinny white dude bareback on our fucking couch! There are condoms all over the floor & on the coffee table, there's beer bottles and ashtrays everywhere and the whole fucking house stinks like cigarettes. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE? CALL ME BACK!"................... After I pulled myself together from a 10 minute uncontrollable, hysterical laughing/ crying fit, I called Joanne back.
Apparently she and her boyfriend (who just finished schlepping their heavy luggage up two flights of stairs, finally arriving home after their flight had been delayed for HOURS) opened the door to two strangers screwing in our living room and immediately thought that people had broken into the apartment.
They were screaming "who are you and what the fuck are you doing here" and Sweet answered, "Just a second" while he continued to plow this fat chick in front of my roommates, BUCK-ASS naked on the couch. Joanne and Kurtis started to throw pillows and whatever they could find to get them to move but apparently, Jimmi and his "lady" just got up (naked) and finished their sexcapade in my room! I was told that after Sweet Jimmi was finished screwing, he had the BALLS to walk out of the room in my God Damn robe! Eventually they left but, not with all of his belongings.
"Jimmi are you fucking kidding me man? Besides the fact that you desecrated my home by bringing a stranger into my bed and made a mess of the apartment, YOU had the balls to drape your filthy, disgusting, naked body with my favorite cashmere robe that cost more money then the couch you were banging some fat hooker on? ARE YOU INSANE? You are NO Longer welcome in my home so get your shit, leave my keys on the kitchen counter and BEAT IT!"
He apologized profusely and told me that he would make other sleeping arrangements but, in the meantime, asked if he could leave his luggage in my apartment. I agreed and told him that by the end of the day on the 1st, I wanted ALL of his shit out of my place, to call me when he was ready to pick up his bags. - The next day I got a text message that he took his things and that he was very sorry.
Last night I came back home from my beautiful weekend getaway to find Jimmi the "Douchebag" Sweet drunk as fuck passed out in my bed! I lost it, I started kicking the bed, shaking him, screaming in his ear but the little prick wouldn't budge! Long Shit-Show-Short; I finally woke up my roommate and her boyfriend and they practically threw him out of the apartment.
Suffice it to say, I learned two very important lessons in the early days of 2012:
1) Don't waste good sheets on British house guests.
2) Pack or hide my Loro Piana robe when I leave town.
Happy Fucking New Year!