By all outward appearances, I’m an excellent houseguest. I bring hostess gifts (usually salted chocolate caramels from Shurra’s). I’m clean and quiet. I even bring my soiled linens (as in used, not peed on or anything) to the laundry room.
But maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t leave me alone in your house.
My friend Christine from Keeper of the Fruit Loops recently invited me to stay at her house the night before we were to attend a conference together. She describes herself as “Martha Stewart and Erma Bombeck with a Roseanne twist” and says that she has “the organized cabinets and mouth to prove it.”
So my immediate response to her invitation was, “Oh man. I’m so gonna fuck with your house. I would LOVE to stay with you!”
I arrived at her house planning to completely wreak havoc on it—like, Attorney General with a search warrant at Martha Stewart’s mansion wreak havoc. While drinking all of her wine, of course. I had an actual LIST of all the ways I was going to mess with her house. You know, rearrange her pantry and spice rack, mess up her perfectly folded and stacked towels, put salt in the sugar bowl, and the like.
When I arrived, Christine made me feel right at home. Her husband courteously brought my suitcase to my room, and she showed me around. In case I had forgotten anything, my gracious hostess had generously set out supplies and snacks for me. She’s obviously been paying attention—can you see the BACON CHOCOLATE?!?!
As soon as she left me, I dumped the entire basket in my bag. Natch.
Don’t worry. I left a thank you.
The guest room accommodations were perfect. So clean and comfortable. And, apparently the bedding was brand-new—purchased in my honor. (You know she just used me as an excuse to buy something she had been coveting.)
So I immediately got naked and rolled around with my dickeys.
After I snooped through every drawer and closet in my room and the guest bathroom got settled in, I joined my host and hostess downstairs for a nightcap. Christine served wine and snacks.
It was during our discussion over drinks that I learned my host and hostess are both in the medical field. People in the medical field generally have access to some good … uhhh … medicine. I immediately changed my plans from terrorizing Martha Stewart to looking for the good shit in Dr. House’s apartment.
The next morning while Christine took the kids to school and after her husband left for work, I got down to business. I checked out every cabinet, closet, and secret hiding spot in the house.
I inspected the bathrooms. But the medicine cabinets were beyond disappointing.
I searched through all of the underwear drawers and bedside tables. NO GOOD STUFF.
I did find a shit-ton of knives. Apparently, my host and hostess are serial killers in their spare time.
WHERE WERE THEY HIDING THE GOOD SHIT? I rifled through the attic (and found a single baby shoe—creeeeeepy), the basement, and more rooms and drawers and good places to hide stuff than you can imagine. I didn’t find any type of contraband or embarrassing secret stash of any kind. Not even in this mailbox. What?! Don’t you have a mailbox inside your house? Sadly, there was no weed in there either.
I began searching bookcases and walls for entrances to secret passageways and torture chambers. NOTHING. Fortunately, I did find the Scotch cabinet.
So I sat down and had a drink. I contemplated that maybe, just maybe, she was the perfect homemaker after all.
By this time I was pretty tired and on the verge of giving up my quest so I decided to go take a nap. In the master bed, of course.
After a quick snooze, I decided to rinse off in the master bathroom and re-think my scheme.
My plans foiled, I gave up on finding anything juicy in the house and decided to return to my original idea of messing with Christine’s stuff. ‘Cuz that’s always fun.
First, I turned all of the toilet paper the wrong way.
Then, I removed one battery from each of their remotes.
I even messed with her perfectly aligned pantry.
But then I got bored and just drank another bottle of wine.
I guess the moral of this story is that if you invite me over to your house, and you’ve read my blog, you better hide your stash off-site. Like the Burkes obviously did.
P.S. I found this purse in her closet. I’m certain she meant to include it in the guest room goodie basket. So I stashed it in my bag as well.
25 Responses
You sound like quite the gracious house guest! Hilarious post!
Rolling around naked with your dickeys on the top of the bed… Snort laugh complete. Thank you very much.
(You would have put me over the edge changing the toilet paper!)
I don’t get it, where’s the part about you being a bad houseguest?
I thought that many knives was normal! I’m always buying new ones (yes my family think I have serial killer aspirations).
If you put my (3 ply) toilet rolls the wrong way round, yes that IS the wrong way, I’d be twitching too, but I agree that admiring your host’s house (snooping) is perfectly acceptable.
HAHAHA..OMG you are awesome sister
Great pictures. You would be welcome at my house any time.
If she ever invites you back again, you will know that she is a very good friend. The toilet paper alone would have put me over the top.
I like her little guest basket. If I ever have guests again, I will have to put something like that together. Unless it’s you. If you ever come to stay, I’m thinking of investing in a safe for all of the valuables and booze.
I almost choked to death reading this I’ll have you know – my respiratory tract is not equipped for that much laughter yet – but I would’ve died happy because this was hilarious. Except I can’t die because MY HOUSE!!!! I can only imagine how nosy people are in a dead person’s nightstand! I’d invite you to visit but I’ve alerted the Canadian border authorities not to let you in!
OMG – I am dying. DYING! I am printing a copy of this shit for future reference because: obviously.
Hilarious, Kate! You can come to my house, but I challenge you to even FIND the fucking remote because my kids are always hiding it from each other so no one can change the channel. In fact, maybe I SHOULD invite you so you can find the remotes. We buy AA batteries in bulk at Costco, so I’m not worried about your removing one.
My boyfriend’s brother comes over to our house and EVERY. SINGLE. TIME…rearranges my spices because they’re alphabetized. So I took pictures of his dog in a dress when he was out of town. Because payback.
I nearly peed myself when you got to the knives. You are always cordially invited to stay here at Casa Snarkfest in the future. Perhaps YOU can find the calculator my youngest borrowed from the school and can’t find to return. You seem thorough.
Bwahahaha! That’s hilarious!
And now I’m suddenly very nervous about letting you stay at my house for our recent book signing! Wondering what havoc you wreaked while I wasn’t looking! ha! 🙂
I laughed so hard I snorted prosecco through my nose … That shit burns woman!!
Wahahaha Brilliant!!!
I never even thought to look for the good meds when I was there over the winter. Sonofa!!
Teach me, oh wise one.
Awesome read, my dear, Foxy. I do enjoy you and if I had a guest room, you would be absolutely welcome to visit. Granted, we all share a bathroom, so am sure that would deter you right off!
I can’t even pick my favorite. This was so awesome! I bet Fruit Loops was cry laughing when she read this!! So crazy and to be expected.
I’m sorry to tell you this — but you totally did her a favor and put the toilet tissue on the RIGHT way. Also – that guest bedroom with the welcome basket??? Incrayiblay!
If you ever come and stay at our house, I’ll be sure to tell you where all the good drugs are, that way you won’t go hunting for the drawer containing all the fun vibrating toys and industrial equipment
Ha! Loved it. You are a true brat! Before I invite you, I’ll hide the wine—wait that wouldn’t be any fun for any of us, including me.
Ummm. This is in regard to overnights only, right? Right?? See you Tuesday!
I’m crying! hilarious. I hope you roundhouse kicked her door to wake her and her hubs each morning….
I am inspired, truly inspired. In-laws, watch out!
I peed my pants. I have a couple of friends who like to screw with my OCD when they come over. They are certainly not in your league. 🙂
I’m still in. When are you going to visit? (The good meds are in the cupboard beside the stove).