Our room is entirely covered in plants.
It'll be cleaned up soon, but for now it adds a kind of neat jungly feel. That was the point, after all.
Office-chair roller polo. Or something. At one point I came downstairs and saw a bunch of guys riding office chairs around our mostly empty living room and whacking each other with water noodles and bouncy balls and whatever else we had. I think they were mostly from Cloyne.
And a jam session. The theme of one of the rooms. Four guitars, three bongo drums, a trumpet, a synthesizer, and whoever felt like singing at the moment. I stayed there for a while. One of the most musically coherent (and disgusting) songs was the "white-trash necrophiliac blues".