My neighbor/mother/priest/boss doesn’t approve of me eating fatty deli meats, so I’ll say the answer to the question in the OP is … “Quick! Run to my place and hide the salami.”
Once I was home alone for a whole week. My SO was traveling. So, I lived like a bachelor - totally messy. I figured, why not enjoy it for once? I left my dirty clothes in the hallway, left the house a mess, didn’t do dishes, etc.
Well, that VERY week, the idiot maintenance guys confused my apartment for a different one and came in to repair things. Imagine. :smack:
Jack, you made me laugh.
There was a character in fiction that was a real hard ass. He’d been through hell and back, all scarred up, one-eyed, tough as nails type guy. He was a cop and there was a criminal they were tracking and he needed to access some peripheral memories he had from something a long time ago to get a clue they needed. He agreed to a mind scan, but told the scanning person, “Go in, find the memory and get out. Don’t go wandering, there are things in there you don’t want to see, and I won’t be held responsible if you lose your sanity inside my mind.”
That’s pretty much what I’d say to whoever was going through my personal effects. They ignore this advice at their own peril.
Enjoy,
Steven
Oh lord, Jack. I don’t know whether to clap or to groan.
I don’t know Bob- or anyone, for that matter- well enough to trust them with the really embarrassing stuff. The pr0n is all password protected well enough; the bedroom toys are reasonably well-hidden, although with some motivated searching they’d find it easily (it can’t be too well hidden or it would be too much of a pain to break into when we really needed it, right?); and the financial info is filed away in discreetly-named folders like “Financial Info”.
Sex and money- I guess that’s about all I wouldn’t want anyone to snoop through.
If it’s any help, I usually groan when I get the clap.
Waka waka waka … I’m here all week!
Not to disappoint on that regard, but …
While there’s very little pr0n laying about in my house – for the most part, it’s either on computer, archived to DVD, or in a dresser drawer – my “tactical equipment” bag is sitting in my closet, and it’s full of restraints, blindfolds, toys, and various instruments of delight and suffering. That would need relocating if, say, my mom was going to be putting some clothes together for me.
At the moment, the under-the-mattress restraint system is in there, too, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about tucking them under the mattress and out-of-sight.
Run to my house and burn it to the ground.
Any form of smoking material or paraphernalia (of course I mean ordinary cigarettes, ashtrays, lighters, etc. What else could I mean?). My mother wouldn’t snoop through drawers, she’d just grab what I’d said I needed and get out, so I wouldn’t worry about her finding … other things. If it wasn’t my mother, if it was someone else nosier, I’d want my financial documents hidden as well as any soppy cards/love notes that may be lying around. I don’t think there is much in my house that I’m not prepared to own up to.
Bob would have to gut my entire house.
Not that I have anything to hide, mind you.
…wooden box with the carving of a cephalopod on top.
What? It has some of my private papers in it.
I can’t wait to start gathering all this great stuff. Sounds like it would make for an awesome collection.
Or blackmail opportunities.
Y’all let me know when you need me to show up and where I can find the keys.
Just stay away from my salami.
Or my cat, ya deve.
Fortunately, my husband’s a cop, so the handcuffs require no explanation! 
Other than that, I’d have to tell Bob to call Merry Maids before my mother/mother-in-law/nosy neighbor showed up. I’m mostly embarrassed about the utter squalor! (But not so embarrassed that I’m up scrubbing and straightening instead of killing time before work on the Straight Dope…)
Uh, if you sent my mom, you’d have to tell her I no longer live at my old apartment. Cause the SO and I moved in. While she suspects and alludes to the fact we’ll get hitched (and she’s right) she’d be SUPER pissed I didn’t tell her we moved in together.
So, ah, Bob would have explain to my dear mother how I no longer live there and live with my SO. YUCK.
The jar on my dishwasher with the as yet unidentified dead bug in it.
Might as well delete My Favorites as well or they’ll think I’m contemplating murder.
Sadly, this has already happened to us.
Back in 2006 we went on a trip to Mexico for my husband’s 30th birthday. While we were away, my mother-in-law was to do two things–deal with the fact that the screen doors they bought us for Christmas were being installed, and feed our cats.
Well, she dealt with the screen door guy by phone, and then after they were installed, she came by to feed the cats. And realized that she hadn’t seen one of them. Worried that the screen door installer had accidentally let him out, she ended up tearing up the entire house, then calling another relative who had cats to brainstorm where he could be hiding.
She told us this story when we called her from our overnight stay in Houston on the way home, and our response was “He was behind the furnace, wasn’t he?” Which of course he was.
God only knows what she found–she pretty much left no stone unturned. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have looked in the nightstand drawers where I keep most of the sex toys, and I’m hoping she has no idea what the Liberator Shapes in the closet were for…
I have nothing to hide. I’m not ashamed or afraid of other people seeing anything I have. Bongs, porn, empty beer cans, dirty clothes, it doesn’t matter to me.
Eh, not much to hide. The apartment’s a bit of a mess, but my parents expect that. And as for the computer - well, unless they checked the browser history for some odd reason, that should be fine too.
I really need to stash some dead-tree porn in the apartment, actually - my parents would be disappointed if they found nothing at all scandalous.
It’s like that clean underwear thing people are always talking about.
Keep rocking. I cringed for a moment when I realized the guy would see my dirty clothes (undies included) on the floor, but then I said, “Whatever. The fucking guy doesn’t know me, and whatever is in my apt, he’s seen worse.”
So back to the actual question asked, I don’t actually have things in my place at all that would be embarrassing or incriminating. Well, there’s that one thing, but it’s under my bed, and I don’t think anyone would be looking there. :o*
*I’ve been on this board for years, and I think I’ve used that orange guy 3 times, 2 of which are in this thread.