Antimaccassar: In mathematics, the inverse of the maccassar.
Maccassar: In mathematics, a special type of logarithm using a base of pi.
That was a pretty good simulpost.
Asterion: I would have guessed that an “antimaccassar” was some sort of dental device used to prevent masctication.
Alles klar, antimaccassar?
I did that once, too, for a bachelor friend: he was always letting me crash at his place after parties, and was generous with his weed (back when I partook in such things), so one morning I decided to thank him by tackling the massive, nasty pile of dishes in his sink. I got serious brownie points. 
Hell, I’m a chick and even I didn’t know what an antimacassar was until Scumpup’s post prompted me to look it up … I kept reading it as “anti-massacre.”
I’m impressed they made it four months and only then started to run out of dishes. I assume they used a lot of paper plates, or lots of take out food, or something? The worst I had was when I had every plate (about eight 10" and 7 8" ones) every bowl (8 or 9) every fork and spoon (as dozen of each) every cup (about a dozen) AND mug (another half dozen), half my cookware (large pot, small pot, parge pan, small pan, baking dish, cookie sheet, colander, several wooden and pastic spoons and spatulas), a george forman grill, a waflle iron, and large mixing bowls were all dirty in my sink, pilled next to the sink, pilled on the stove, and pilled on the floor for almost two weeks.
I once had a large bag of trash (one of those 40 gallon black bags) sitting on my kitchen floor for two weeks. It is also worth mentioning that it had two smaller bags of trash in it, both were put in there when they were too full to keep in the kitchen trash can. Since I take over a week to fill a small bag, that means the elder of two bags had trash in it for about a month before it was thrown out. he problem arose because when I moved into my new place, my landlord never told me waht to do with my trash. I got t o one bag, and just put it aside, got to number two, abgged them together, and moved on to number three. It was at that point that I actually couldn’t ask him what to do…because he would wonder why I waited three weeks before asking about where to put my trash. The same went for asking my neighbors (all I knew was that there was no curbside pickup.) I eventually just…umm…well, let’s just say that a certain local business had a little more in their dumpster that night. The next day I went to the town offices and pretended to be much newer in town and asked where the landfill was. Of course, since it actually costs me $5 ( :eek: ) for every bag of trash I have under 40 pounds (which is every bag) I still wait until I have two bags worth before bagging them up in a large one and taking to the landfill. I have to have the window next to the trash open and a fan blowing out all day to keep my kitchen from smelling once I fill up bag #1, and there is no other way I can do it unless I want to pay $5 a week for trash. Absurd.
Moving on…
I currently have a small kitchen bag and several 12 pack boxes full of cans, and enough extra bottles and cans to fill another kitchen bag in a corner of my kitchen. They have been there (and the pie has been getting added to) for…about a month.
In my old apartment that had carpteting, I vacuumed a total of three times in the nine months I lived there. My new place has hardwood floors, so I notice when it’s dirty (I go barefoot a lot) and actually sweep it about twice a month. I wash my sheets and quilt less than once a month. My towels go about two weeks between washings.
Hah! my knowledge of trivia comes in helpful. “Macassar” used to be a brand of hair-oil used by men (not merely a type, but an actual brand, I believe). Like the Wildroot Cream Oil and Brylcream of my youth, but dating from Victorian times. It got on the backs of chairs and sofas if the menfolk leaned back far enough to rest their heads. The antimcassar has a piece of cloth meant to throw itself in the line of fire and sop up that oil and keep the back of the chair from eventually turning black from oil and trapped scum. You changed it periodicaly and washed it.
Of course, unless you have menfoklk heavily into hairdressing, antimacassars aen’t needed today, except as “classic” accents on furniture. I see them as pointless frou-frou, and say to hell with them./ Just one more thing for the cats to knock off.
Of course, if your friends don’t wash their hair with any regularity, you could still need the damned things, if you wanna keep your chairs looking clean. But a True Bachelor wouldnm’t care, of course.
Same here. A couple of power outlets in my kitchen went dead a few weeks ago. (No it’s not the breaker.) I still haven’t bothered to clean the kitchen and call maintenance - my fridge is connected to an outlet across the room, through an extension cord.
I also keep 4 bicycles in my 1-bedroom apartment, plus 1 in the car and 2 in storage. Every time I start talking about my bikes, people say “you’re single, aren’t you?”
Scottie: Cap’n, the macassar / anti-macassar pods are fused. I cannah give you more than impulse…
Kirk: Dammit, Scottie, I need more power!
Almost half the floorspace in my guest bedroom is taken up by comic book boxes.
The oil is obtained by pressing the seeds of the ylang-ylang tree and named for the district of Macassar in Indonesia from which much of it originated. It is reputed (particularly in its area of origin) to be an aphrodisiac and to promote the growth of hair. (From Wikipedia)
I’m married now and have to live somewhat cleanly, but back when I shared an apartment with two other guys, we lived like this. I solved my dishes problem by eating tv dinners and using paper plates.
Another time, It took me 5 trips to take out the garbage. We hadn’t done so in maybe 6 weeks and we had filled several of those large trash bags. It was starting to interfere with the opening of the entry door. There several overflowing ashtrays at any given time. We never vacuumed the place. We also never cleaned the bathroom for the year we lived there.
When we moved out, my roomate used some sort of caustic chemical to clean the bathroom. It was incredibly foul.
A friend of mine who is still a bachelor was clean but for three months, the only thing he owned was a big screen TV. He didn’t have a bed or a couch. His clothing went in the closet and the books went on the floor. The funny part was that he had been on his own for a while. He had bought the place, decided that his previous furniture was crap and would just buy what he needed when he actually needed it.
If it takes more than two steps to cook it, i don’t
If the shirt has no stains, and smells ok (with a shot of Fabreeze if needed), I’ll wear it again and again
If I can squeeze one more thing into the trashcan, it doesn’t need to be put to the curb.
and I’m female 
My boyfriend and his roommate have been living in their apartment for two years. They seem to subsist on ramen, rice, and really good tea (roommate works at Starbucks). They recently got a female roommate, but she too has osmotically absorbed their laziness.
They have never owned a mop. I think sometimes when someone’s parents are visiting they Swiffer. Of course, 90% of the floor space is taken up by Ikea furniture, futons, heaps of comic books, free armchairs, boxes of Magic cards, empties, more comic books, random chairs, GURPS books, and yet more comic books, so there’s not much floor to clean…
I’m female and married, and I think I qualify. Luckily, Mr. Neville is a slob, too, and we have someone come in and clean every two weeks to keep the place from going completely to hell (and it ensures that no dishes will go unwashed for longer than two weeks).
I got a pot off the stove and put it in the dishwasher last night. It had mold in it. The door of the dishwasher looked like someone had vomited on it about a week ago.
I only use the “skip the sink” types of dish detergent, so I don’t have to scrub dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. I think I’m doing pretty well if they make it into the dishwasher…
I don’t tend to notice things being messy, like bachelor guys supposedly don’t. I only really pick up stuff if the cleaning person is coming, or if maintenance is coming. I try to get maintenance to come after the cleaning person has been there.
I don’t know the difference between a dust ruffle and a flounce.
My sheets and towels go at least as long as bouv’s between washings.
I’m so glad I married another slob- a neatnik couldn’t stand me.
I will hamper dirty laundry. I will do laundry. I will fold laundry. I will not put away clean laundry. It sits on a chair until it’s all used up and dirty again.
Nor will I willingly empty the dishwasher of clean dishes. What is the frikken point?
I pile all possible printed matter. I determine the location of important papers in a pile by a method akin to oceanographic core sampling: the last time I remember handling the first few papers on top of the pile indicate the length of time since I’ve handled anything further down. If I can remember handling the lsot document since then, it’s not there.
As I have comparatively few visitors, priority seating space in my apartment goes to my saxophone collection.
Put dirty laundry in the hamper? Are you mad? It goes on the floor! That’s how I know it’s dirty, since I keep my clean clothes in the hamper till I use them.
The booster club for our hockey team sets up the apartments for the players each fall just before training camp starts. We supply things like sheets, towels, flatware, dishes, pots & pans, etc. When we cleaned out the apartments after the guys left last March, some of the mops we had provided had never had the plastic taken off of them. And it was apparent some of the sheets hadn’t been washed lately, either.
I live with 2 guys, but we do an AMAZING job of cleaning the dishes, at least compared to the other posters in this thread. Wow. I feel clean now.
However, when the phone company comes by and leaves new phone books outside our door, we just leave them there. I mean, we have the internet. Why would we need phone books? And moldering phone books (unlike, say, moldy dishes) don’t really present a health hazard. So who are they hurting?
I have a microwave oven and a toaster oven, which I use frequently.
I have a gas stove/oven, which I have never used. I keep the pilot lights lit, however, so I can make sure my propane tank is not empty. As long as the pilot lights are burning, I know I have enough hot water for one shower.
My DSL goes out about once every four months, necessitating the action of opening the phone book to find the number for Qwest’s repair service. This is the only time I ever open the phone book anymore, and it happens infrequently enough that I forget where I put the number the next time it happens, requiring me to open the phone book again.
Last time it happened, I tore the page with Qwest’s number out of the book and stuck it on the wall next to my computer with a tack. Problem solved!
I do wonder why they still print those things for every phone customer in the country. I’m sure some people still use them, but not many.