Let's be Kiefer Sutherland and Robert Downey Jr's apartment that they shared in the 1980s!

I'm Anthony Michael Hall's retainer.

I am the tattered remains of Molly Ringwald's virginity.

I'm a random nipple clamp.

I am a bemused expression on the face of Jennifer Connelly.

I am a cubic quarter acre of parking tickets.

I'm the dual nervous breakdown.

I'm Winona Ryder, here to read my lines and blow a few of theirs.

I'm the disheveled confusion of the day they wake up with each other's cocks in their mouths.

I m the binoculars of the pervert across the street.

I have scorch marks.

I am the 1968 Ferrari.

Being repossessed.

Again.

I am Patrick Dempsey, stark naked in the hot tub.

I am also the fact that no one cares.

I’m the quaaludes.

I'm the fateful night a drunk Kiefer made a pass at a stoned RDJ, causing the latter to exit this domestic arrangement at roughly the speed of sound.

R8, otherwise known as "Tuesday".

I'm RDJ's jaw, sore from another night of blowing everyone.

I'm Robert Rusler, wondering if they wouldn't like to make it three.

Must we take another trip to Fantasy Land, OP??

R17, Sutherland and Downey lived together for a two-year period when they were both starting out in the mid-80s.

Obviously the contents of this thread are fiction.

Do you know how this works?

I’m the three dozen bent and burnt spoons “hidden” on top of the refrigerator.

I’m the Map of the Stars and in the future I will send countless thousands of tourists to this very spot, where they will find absolutely nothing to do but take selfies and desperately hope to at least come across a taco truck soon.

I am the television that is on 24/7.

I'm Jason Patric. I don't mind Kiefer's drunken passes.

I am Sarah Jessica Parker, gritting my teeth as I once again wash the dishes piled high in the sink.

I'm Donald Sutherland, dropping by for a visit and once again failing to suggest Kiefer maybe take up law school.

I'm Robert Downey Sr. not dropping by for a visit because I'm too busy making an unfunny pretentious pile of shit "social satire" that has all the grace and timing of an earthquake at the sledgehammer factory.

Robert! Get your useless ass over here! I need you to lick a dead midget!

I am DADDY ISSUES.

I'm Corey Haim.

Wow...this place is cool.

I'm Corey Feldman.

Haim, you should check out my sick pad. These two are losers!

I'm the sound of Kiefer yelling "Robert, can you stop playing Ravel's Bolero on your fucking ukulele? It's three in the fucking morning!"

I am Charlie Sheen!!

Robert, got any drugs? Kiefer, got any drugs? Molly, do you have drugs? Jennifer? Sarah? Judd? Russler?

Shit! Why do you fucking bitches never have any drugs?

We are Cary Grant and Randolph Scott.

We brought a similar arrangement off which much greater élan.

And more fucking, of course.

I'm Keanu Reeves, passed out on the sofa for the fifth consecutive night.

I'm James Spader, drunk-dialing a pizza order in my tightie-whities.

I'm Julia Roberts, skulking around the trash cans and wondering which one of these two morons will do more for my nascent career.

I'm the realization that this wouldn't make a bad R-rated version of Ernie & Bert.

I’m the deadbolt on the front door. If you take me apart, I bet you’ll find a full gram of cocaine inside from all the leftovers clinging to their house keys.

Or chuck in Spader and Reeves for the West Hollywood version of The Young Ones.

Downey as Mike

Spader as Rick

Sutherland as Vivian

Reeves as the hippie

I'm the occasional dude that Kiefer flip flopped fucked with after a 3 day bender at the Chateau Marmont

I'm the crinkled pack of Parliaments next to a highball glass full of floating butts.

I'm the continual fight over the last disposable lighter.

I'm the panties draped over a lampshade.

I am the contents of the fridge.

Yesterdays pizza

Last week's pizza

Last month's pizza

A moldering half-pound of goat cheese Sutherland drunkenly stole from a cocktail party thrown by Joel Schumacher

An empty quart container of skim milk

A kale salad Robert's mother dropped off, which is now the consistency of White House spinach

Darryl Hannah's favorite dildo

Half a pack of Oscar Meyer weenies, which are now the consistency of the dildo

R41, Downey's or Kiefer's?

Neither, R43.

Mine.

I'm the album cover for REM's Life's Rich Pageant. During dry periods, I am shaken ragefully over a mirror in hopes of producing some tiny powder residue.

I'm the amazing fact that these two deranged drug addicts somehow lived together without one beating the ever-loving shit out of the other.

I'm Downey's closet, crammed with couture suits and shirts every time he gets a paycheck. Barely any room for him anymore!

I'm Andrew McCarthy, still occasionally waking up screaming in horror.

I'm James Toback, halfway through the catflap.

I'm the enormous sack in Toback's hand.

I'm Johnny Depp, stopping by for a glass of red wine and rolling my eyes as I leave.

Christ, what a pair of losers. They'll never amount to anything.

I’m the cigarette burned lounge next to the vintage pedestal ashtray oh, and the coffee table with assorted coke stained mirrors and a flame thrower lighter next to Vanity Fair magazine on young Hollywood.

I'm the curling iron next to a bottle of Aqua Net.

I'm Robert wishing I had said yes to Kiefer while being pounded into a prison mattress by Tyrone.

I'm the heroin that Julia keeps bugging Kiefer for. "Damnit Kiefer, get rid of her," says Bobby. "That's OURS. Let's hook her up with Jas and let her be HIS problem."

I'm Bret Easton Ellis, taking notes whenever I'm not trying to casually initiate a three-way.

I'm the good coke the boys put away when Bret literally comes sniffing around.

I'm the writer for Interview Magazine, here to interview two top thespians of Hollywood's who's-who of hunkdom. I have dallied my way here from my hotel suite where I sweetly stay whenever my position as a top writer bids me hither to the heather and dither of tinsel town's ups and downs, its ins and outs, its shouts and murmurs, its tremors and memoirs. Well I remember the first time I interviewed someone, brilliantly, with a brilliance that I will fitfully bring to oh my GOD.

Well, hello, there. Which one are you?

Oh, I never knock. I like to find my subjects in their, shall we say, natural state.

Wouldn't you be more comfortable without that towel?

It wasn't funny the hundredth time, Sessums hatesquad. We get it: he's pathetic.

I'm the Rob Lowe/Robert Rusler sex tape labeled "What's Up, Doc?" on the cassette.

SJP finds me and squeals "I love Babs!"

Hilarity ensues.

I'm the Pornhub/OnlyfFans channel this situation would surely be if taking place today.

I'm the smell.

That coke-sweat bong-water funky-ass armpit favorite-sock three-pack-a-day spilled-bourbon tears-saturated-pillow Obsession-for-Men smell.

Share the Fantasy

I'm the empty bottles of Malibu Rum and Jack Daniels that line the top of the kitchen cabinets

I'm the complimentary RayBans

"Free with every circle jerk!"

I'm the casual nudity.

I'm the ghost-white complexions.

Those two fuckers used to glow in the dark

Considering their family backgrounds I'm sure the place had daily housekeeping and drug cleaning. These two were spoiled rotten.

Actually Robert had a rough childhood. His dad got him involved in drugs at age 6 and really didn't seem to give a shit if his son lived or died. I watched an interview where Robert Sr. was asked if he ever feared for his son's life when he hit rock bottom. He just shrugged and said "I suppose those things happen." RDJ was next to him and looked absolutely devastated.

Yeah, can't speak to Sutherland but RDJ was absolutely not a spoiled kid.

I thought Sutherland didn't know his dad until adulthood? I remember him talking about sleeping in his car the first three months he was in LA.

Kiefer's parents divorced in 1970 and he moved to Toronto with his mother.

Yeah, I think he didn't really speak to his dad until he was in his late teens.

"Being spoiled" was not the problem.

R26 was the fuckin' problem.

I'd have gotten fucked up too back then if someone put millions of dollars in my hand.

I am the sofa. I smell like cum and shit and vomit. Currently, Kiefer is on one side nodding off with a needle in his arm and a lit cigarette in his mouth and Robert is on the other doing the exact same thing.

I'm the crying jags.

I'm Jami Gertz, pointedly refusing a seat on the aforementioned sofa with a disdainful "I'll just stand."

I'm Pauly Shore, trying to befriend both of them. Or either one of them. Or anybody else, really.

I'm Bradley Gregg. WHET me?

I'm Drew Barrymore with zero concerns about the sofa.

I'm this conversation.

"Robert! Hey! Great to see you! And this must be Susan? You look great! Both of you! Yes. Yes! Yes, this is my...date...Candy? Candy! She's...an interpretive dancer. Yes. Can I get you a drink--oh, no, well. No. Sorry, ha ha! Should we get a table together? You're already leaving? Oh, yeah. Kids. Yeah. Of course. Say, I'm sorry to hear about your father. Donald? Donald's fine. Still Donald. Hey, we should make a date - have me call your people? I mean, my people call your people, right? Ha ha! Wow. Can't believe how long it's been! Remember when we roomed together? Crazy times, right? Right? Remember that one night me and you and Judd and Jason all....right. Right. No. Yes. I understand. Right. Okay. See you later."

I'm Matt Damon who traveled back 40 years to stick his head in the catflap and say "What a couple of fags!"

R82, LOL

R79, we realized you have no talent.

I'm the fact that I'm not going to lie.

Back in 1985 I would have done anything to be the filling in a Kiefer Sutherland/Robert Downey Jr. sandwich.

Now, not so much, though I'd probably give RDJ a handjob (for old wanks' sake).

In 2008, Kiefer bought four-story townhouse at 763 Greenwich Street in the West Village for $8.2 million. In 2012, he sold for $17.5 million. Was recently for sale.

R85, Joel Schumacher!

How nice of you to stop by.

I have a hard time believing RDJ turned Kiefer down considering his reputation as a pass around party bottom.

If anything it would be the other way around. I've never heard any gay rumors about Kiefer.

R89 Helen Keller!!!

You're alive!!!

I'm the moving vans outside.

I'm Robert seated on the second-to-last of two chairs.

I'm Jennifer Connelly seated on the last of two chairs.

I'm the guitar Robert is playing.

And the song he is singing.

Just walk away Renee

You won't see me follow you back home

The empty sidewalks on my block are not the same

You're not to blame

Man, all these hot guys in my generation took it up the as…?

Never mind.

I'm Miss Christina.

Satisfaction oozes from my pores.

Is Kiefer still a belligerent drunk?

I'm the fact that where this subject is concerned 99% of you would give your eyeteeth for a time machine and an invisibility cloak.

I might have to start a hunks of the 80s thread...

I'm Tom Cruise. I will never be seen within ten miles of this place.

That's okay Tammy! You're a complete disaster in bed anyway!

Why are you looking at me, Tammy? I didn't say nuthin'!

I'm Tim-o-tay and Tom Holland, shacking up in imitation.

Timmy warns Tommy not to slip on the kitchen floor he just spent *all* day waxing.

Tommy wants to know if Timmy has seen his favorite rubber duck for tubbie-time.

I'm the Nagel print

I'm the mix tapes

I'm the chianti bottle with melted candle wax

I'm the water stains and soap scum all over the bathroom counter

I'm them dancing in their boxers to Durand Durand's Rio.

What boxers? We do it in the raw!

PANT PANT PANT PANT SPLOOGE

I'm the answering machine with multiple unheard messages from John Hughes, drunk and babbling incoherently, crying pitifully, the blinking light obscured by dismembered scripts and take out burger wrappers

I'm the jerk off competitions. Kiefer always wins and then calls Robert a fag.

[quote]I’m the quaaludes.

Come sit here right next to me.

R105 - DuranD DurnaD!?

R111, yeah, off the Barbarella soundtrack. The beat is a bit middly but they really goof up the bridge.

I'm John Hughes pounding on the door and screaming "I need Molly!"

The actress, not the drug, but I will accept the latter, I guess.

I'm me, wondering just how close to reality this thread actually is.

How much would you pay to know?

I'm Alex Winter. Everyone says Keanu is the hot one but when I skip around this place barefoot in torn jeans and a midriff-baring cut-off you might have second opinions.

I'm Samantha Mathis. I saw some wicked shit in this apartment, and some possible felonies.

But don't ask me to talk. I didn't see anything, and won't say anything for thirty years!

Take it up with Depp, bitch!

I am going to be more famous than all you shitstains!

Hey Kief! Here are a couple of scrips you might like. Personally, I think they will never be made. One involves teen vampires. The other is about some kids trying to find a dead body. Hey, get this, that one is being directed by Meathead! Fucking shit crap these dicks are making today.

Durand Durand?

We heard you the first time, cunt!

35 years later, fuck-all has changed.

I'm the beer cans and water pipes covering the coffee tables. Robert calls his biggest bong Chief Wannadoobie.

I'm Kelly Lebrock

You won't believe what those little maniacs did first.

I swear on a stack of grandma's pancakes that neither I, nor Russler, nor Anthony, nor the 15-year-old dork, shit in your trailer, Kelly.

Then who did?

You have to ask?

Hey Kelly! They're serving burritos at the craft service table today!

I'm the fact that this would make a far better film than anything John Hughes came up with.

I'm potential titles:

Sixteen Cokewhores

The Breakfast Chub

Pity You Stink

Feral Baller Jacks Off

Beard Science

I’m the smell of beer. I’m in every room and I never go away.

I'm the smell of fear. I'm also in every room and I never go away.

I'm Kim Walker.

How do you boys feel about long-term relationships...and where do I put my croquet set?

I'm Sarah Jessica Parker, watching RDJ skip around playing his banjo and retreating into the manly, emotionally mature embrace of, well, Matthew Broderick.

I'm Sean Penn, refusing to be seen in the company of these two bozos.

I'm Kiefer's breath, a whiff of which could power Elon Musk's next rocket to Mars.

I'm Michael J. Fox, shaking my head.

R138 OMG, you mean bitch. Bravo!

R110, there's a low bar.

I'm Ilan Mitchell-Smith.

Come on you guys, this isn't funny, let me out of the dishwasher.

I'm the 1968 Ferrari reverse-launched through the plate glass window of a three-car garage.

I'm the fact that these were possibly the two most versatile, fearless and unconventionally beautiful actors in Hollywood in the '80s and nobody knew what to do with either one of them.

Why couldn't we at least get A Midsummer Night's Dream with Sutherland as Oberon and Downey as Puck and both of them wearing nothing but body paint?

Or The Fall of the House of Usher with Kiefer as the narrator, Downey as Roderick and Jennifer Connelly or Mia Sara as Madeline?

Why?

I'm Robert Rusler's sore asshole after getting a solid pounding by RDJ.

This thread is bringing back so many memories of the 80s. I can almost smell the Brut aftershave and cigarette smoke.

Robert couldn't top a sundae.

True dat.

Isn't Robert Rusler the one who claimed he couldn't get anywhere with RDJ, after numerous times when getting high and making out only led to RDJ falling asleep?

R148, I don't know if that's 100% confirmed but it's an anecdote that's been shared here.

RDJ said back in his thirties that he wasn't very sexually motivated in relationships.

I think as a young man he liked physical affection more than sex, in part because his parents weren't the hugging type.

I’m Timothy Hutton, sinking from Oscar winner to trashy undies in this same span of years.

At least I got to fuck Daryl Hannah, Angelina Jolie, AND Demi Moore.

Who didn't fuck Demi Moore?

I bet Kiefer wanted that ass and RDJ got spooked.

[quote]Who didn't fuck Demi Moore?

But Timothy Hutton had her in her prime!

I'm Jodie Foster.

R151, trashy undies? These are, like, Calvin Klein and shit!

I'm the hole punched through the wall when Robby forgot to pick me up at The Hard Rock Cafe

I'm Ally Sheedy.

Remember?

Yeah, Ally, great to see you. Could you run out and get us more paper towels?

Actually, we'll pay extra for Kleenex, it's starting to chafe!

Which do you think has the biggest cock?

RDJ has been frank about not having much of an endowment.

Which wouldn't put me off, then or now.

Hey, Rusler! I hear you're not getting anywhere with Bobby! Maybe he needs a real man to show him how it's done!

I'm Mark Patton, fresh off the gay-ass Elm Street Sequel and crawling up Rusler's leg.

Speaking of which, I'm Heather Langenkamp, wondering if you boys wouldn't mind just sort of watching me while I sleep.

I'm Mare Winningham, waiting in the parking lot.

C'mon, you guys, Marie Callender's won't hold our reservation all night!

I'm Goat Boy. I'm RDJ's sober persona.

I'm Kiefer's promise to himself in the darkness of a 3 AM pot-binge that as Robbie's obviously not going to make it out of his 20s - hell, he might not make it to 9:20 - when I win my third Golden Globes Award I'll leave it for him wherever his parents (actually forgot to) scatter his ashes.

Ah, Jennifer Connelly! Yes, I am the Goblin King. I stole your two little brothers. At least I thought they were your little brothers. I'm giving them back, they made a mess out of my throne room and smoked my stash. And the dark-haired one won't stop playing the zither.

And of course I didn't rape them! If anything, THEY tried to rape ME!

I'm Winona Ryder, sneaking a bong and a bag of coke into my purse when they're not looking. Hell, I'll take an ashtray or two while I'm at it.

I'm Phoebe Cates.

Which one of you bitches is my brother?

I'm Wil Wheaton.

So THIS is what success looks like!!

Hey, Wil do you like gladiator movies?

Wil, which cast “member” had the biggest unit?

And did they fir in your fine, tight ass?

RDJ was an easy fuck…no mutual JO-prequel, just his ass was in the air before you could bark BITCH!

How was RDJ Jr on Kimmel last night?

I assume Kimmel invited him?

I'm the unexpected nostalgia.

I'm Kiefer sitting at the bar with my pants down. Back off homos! Can't a straight guy drink in peace?

I'm the fact that there is no contemporary collection of beautiful boys to match the pack satirized in this thread.

Or girls, for that matter.

Just look at the uggoes who clog up our DL feed. Chalamet, Barry Keoghan, Paul Mescal...Hideous one and all.

R182, I realize that the passing of time lends glamour, but I do believe that the boys of the 80s were a special class. The ones from the 70s were fug and the 90s were completely boring.

Enjoy this Hunks of the 80s thread!

Those 80s fellas seem like they'd be totally willing to get high and swap blowjobs.

Three things made the 80s boys stand out.

They were a blend of masculine and feminine that was new.

They had the charisma borne of a blend of narcissism and ambition.

They were genuinely bad boys on and off screen. Imagine Tom Holland having a sex tape leaked.

I'm the beads of sweat on RDJ's forehead and upper lip.

[quote]They were genuinely bad boys on and off screen.

Gen X were the last generation who were party animal sex fiends. SO glad I was young then and got to enjoy it, compared to the younger generations now who are so humorless and prudish.

Are Kiefer and Robert still friends?

They parted ways after Kiefer's Baccarat highball glass left a faint ring on Robert's treasured Ray Eames boomerang table.

oops, wait, that happens 20 years from now when they both retire and shack up in Palm Springs.

I'm the fact that only the lonely can play.

Spader was so beautiful, R192.

And now he resembles a soft boiled egg.

Ah well.

I'm Ione Skye.

WHET to me?

I'm New Gold Dream by Simple Minds, being played at decibels that would distract an earthquake.

I'm Emilio Estevez's dog. It's a new breed called a pit bull--DOWN, CUJO!!! DOWN!!!!!

Oof!

I'm River Phoenix smoking my first joint. What could possibly go wrong?

I'm the brochure for that year's Porsche with DOUCHEMOBILE written across in it bold black letters.

I'm Pia Zadora, wondering if there's crossover.

I'm the brown rings around the toilet bowl, I am legion...

I'm the double headed dildo in Robert's sock drawer.

There's mainly two people masturbating, I mean posting, on this thread.

Yeah, R203, and?

Or maybe one person and a sock puppet or two. I guess this is how we do old bat now.

Muriel! Red alert! He discovered the secret of DL!

R203, do you have a thread where you can say "Oh, another Trump thread?"

Shouldn't you be looking for one?

And masturbating quite vigorously while doing so?

I am datalounge that rejects every picture of two of them together.

I am me, not quite understanding R208.

Can't post pictures here. Can you?

The only pics I can find of them together are from the film 1969.

The FILM, R211?

How is poor Martha Plimpton a star? Family connections? The poor dear has a face like a freight train.

Is Martha lez?

Martha Plimpton is a very good actress.

Keith Carradine is her dad.

Another vote for Martha as a talented actress. She was/is also very smart. She dated River briefly, knew Charlie Sheen, Brooke Shields, etc.

Every LA whore knows Charlie Sheen.

Martha Plimpton always had a face better for the grandma roles she's currently playing.

R219 Even when she was 19?

She looked like a normal kid to me.

She was great in The Goonies.

I'm whoever the woman in this photo is.

I'm the fact that not only did they share an apartment, they went to high school together.

Then one dropped out and the other was kicked out.

Then the still they built in the lab blew up and the rest of them were blown out.

If they dropped out/were kicked out, why are they in graduation regalia in that photo, with the tassels moved to the left?

R224, because the picture is actually from the film "1969" where they play recent graduates.

I'm the other film they starred in called 69. The only copy is locked in a vault to be released when both of them are dead.

At least three friends didn't die in their backyard.

Haim OD'ed in the toilet once but we dragged his body out to the dumpster.

R222

It's picture from the movie? Woman is obviously not Winona Ryder lol.

I’m clove cigarettes

I’m Rob Lowe’s chunky butt, making too many appearances in his sex tapes.

I'm the drug fueled orgies.

I'm subtle scent of feces, cigarette smoke, Corona, and Polo Sport always wafting through the space...

I'm Robert beating off to the sound of Kiefer fucking some random girl in the next room.

I'm Robert beating off and quietly crying to the sound of Kiefer fucking some random boy in the next room.

I can picture that, on both sides of the bedroom door

I'm my inability to decide if this is one of the sexiest, most glamorous and 80s-nostalgic threads on Datalounge, one of the saddest or both.

I'm John Cusack, wondering if there's a female alien involved.

I'm nothing on the walls but some food.

I'm Nick Cage thinking that if I just believe in myself and my ability there's gotta be way for me to make it in this crazy, crazy town.

I'm the fact that I know what you want

I know what you need

Better than you do

I know why you came

I promise you

I know where you go

I know what you do

Better than you do

When nothing remains

I come to you

Sometimes she shines, and I know

Beauty has her way

I'm the fact that these two saw each other naked every day. Also on the toilet.

I think I'd rather be RDJ's roommate during this time than Kiefer. And I thin Kiefer is a talented actor. But he had anger management issues.

It's interesting to compare the boys of the 80s with those of the 70s. Not that there weren't attractive actors in the 70s, but they tended to be adults. The younger crowd was...well...young, anyway.

What happened?

Did homoerotism finally breach the barrier somewhere around 1982?

Relevant thread

Relevant soundtrack.

I'm the fact that if you take the L out of Lover, it's over.

I'm Jason Patric's cum dripping from Bobby Downey's hole after a particularly drunken fuckfest.

I'm Kiefer Sutherland, in the corner, jerking off to Jason Patric pounding Bobby Downey.

I'm Jami Gertz, a nice Jewish girl who's wondering how I got into this mess.

Jami, you should have learned your lesson back at R77.

Poor Robert must have been taken advantage of so many times.

I'm James Spader, and I'm only dealing this brick of coke to prepare for a movie role.

You buying that this time?

I'm the metal tipped thin belts.

I'm Ralph Macchio, borrowing hair product.

R255, at least I THINK it's hair product...

bump

Yes, please!!!!!

I'm the sudden feeling the current residents sometimes get, as they sit down for Netflix and chill, that some tortured genius - maybe two - once lived and loved and quarreled in these very rooms.

And that they were joined from time to time by many, many others.

Then the theme to Game of Thrones starts playing and they no longer care.

I'm cradling my Emmy, and through a vale of tears wishing Robert all the best and congratulating him on his award.

They should do a remake of The Odd Couple.

How long would it take to decide who plays Oscar and who plays Felix?

Obviously Kiefer is Oscar.

We're all out of cornflakes. FU

Truth to tell those people were a nightmare.

R265, Fred Kruger! How nice of you to drop by.

I'm all that money, making such a succulent sound.

267 replies and no one has mentioned the water tank full of guyliner?