http://idobelieveicamewithahat.com/2009/08/spray-it-with-feeling/ One gentleman's guide to not getting thrown out, not throwing up, and how to throw a party. Etiquette, manners, social protocol and good living website. Wed, 08 Feb 2012 20:13:23 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v= http://idobelieveicamewithahat.com/2009/08/spray-it-with-feeling/comment-page-1/#comment-96 I do believe I came with a hat. : clusterflock Wed, 12 Aug 2009 17:58:11 +0000 http://idobelieveicamewithahat.com/?p=833#comment-96 [...] —”Spray It with Feeling” When residing in the terrace house in question, I happened to cohabitate with a character you might be previously acquainted with, Stampy McNasty. For the uninitiated, she was a two-thousand-pound quadruped who would skulk around the house with a face as long as the animal she was emulating; and whose mane of horsehair would clog the shower on a daily basis. Living in a house with noise issues and with my bedroom stationed above the kitchen where most of the activity occurred, I was privy to her stomping around like a fairy elephant each morning, the whispered phone conversations to her drug dealer (presumably for horse tranquiliser), and on occasions her hissy fits to uncompliant friends and relatives. Unfortunately, on the rare occasion that Stampy would ensnare a stallion, I would learn of his presence by extended patterns of her snorts and moans: she was a grunter. The sound would filter from the crack beneath her bedroom door and would float into my adjacent room and fill the silence with a chorus from the coital filly. It was rather unpleasant for all concerned, I assume. [...] [...] —”Spray It with Feeling” When residing in the terrace house in question, I happened to cohabitate with a character you might be previously acquainted with, Stampy McNasty. For the uninitiated, she was a two-thousand-pound quadruped who would skulk around the house with a face as long as the animal she was emulating; and whose mane of horsehair would clog the shower on a daily basis. Living in a house with noise issues and with my bedroom stationed above the kitchen where most of the activity occurred, I was privy to her stomping around like a fairy elephant each morning, the whispered phone conversations to her drug dealer (presumably for horse tranquiliser), and on occasions her hissy fits to uncompliant friends and relatives. Unfortunately, on the rare occasion that Stampy would ensnare a stallion, I would learn of his presence by extended patterns of her snorts and moans: she was a grunter. The sound would filter from the crack beneath her bedroom door and would float into my adjacent room and fill the silence with a chorus from the coital filly. It was rather unpleasant for all concerned, I assume. [...]

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