My house My Rules people. Here are ten new rules for any of you left out there who haven’t stayed with me over the last three months. I think just about everyone has stayed with me but I’m sure some of you will just show up without calling ahead (not that that is surprising anymore).
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All visitors are now required to shower at least once per visit. I am not a rich girl (na-na-na- na- na- na- na etc) but I have managed to scrape enough together to have guest sheets, guest towels and even a gender neutral fluffy guest robe.
Regardless of whether you find bathing really *that* inconvenient or smelling of foot is your spiritual goal I promise you will eventually be dry again. In any case, any guest that requires me to throw away said sheets and pillows after their stay is banned until they smell less like a mother fucking bog.
All visitors planning to stay more than three days and nights are now required to show one of the following documents.
1. A valid airplane ticket from a different country (Texas not included)
2. An insurance claim proving that your house burnt down.
3. The birth certificate proving that I once lived in your (or your wife’s) womb for nine months (which is indeed way more than three days)
4. Photo ID proving that you are Johnny Depp or Viggo Mortenson.
Mark Twain once said house guests are like fish- they are only good for three days.
Accept the fact that I have to work….every day Monday through Friday- no exceptions. I am not going to use my vacation time to hang out with your sorry ass- I need it for a real vacation you know sand….sun…alcoholic fruit drinks…..H-O-T-E-L.
Please lock the door when you leave (she typed while crying in frustration)! Oh my God I live in fucking New York people! I am sure that in Montana its precious that you can leave your door wide open but here there are people who want to take my television far far away from me and that can not happen people. Also note: should you fail to follow this rule do not expect me to laugh with you about how funny you think my panic is. Please laugh at me behind my back so I won’t feel the overwhelming urge to smack you upside the head.
While regurgitating please remember that your vomit smells bad. The smell actually gets worse the longer you leave it there too. So there is a little shiny handle on the top part of the toilet that you push down and it helps make the bad smell go away. Then feel free to lie on the tile until exactly 6:00AM (after which please refer to rule three).
Until further notice (and I truly hope there is further notice) I can not afford to foot the bill for anything more than two drinks per stay. One drink at the beginning of your stay (Hello and Welcome to New York!) and one drink at the end of your stay (Thank God- I mean….er… I’ll miss you soooo much). In fact as a matter of consideration please try to lose your spare change in my couch so that I can eat lunch this week. We all can’t be fictional fashion myths on HBO you know.
This is a tough one I know- try as hard as you can not to steal things from me. This rule should be especially observed of things such as T-shirts that I categorize as “my favorite” or CDs that you think are “awesome”. Yes. I think they are “awesome” too. That’s why I “bought” them.
Should you feel the overwhelming urge to complain about the uncomfortableness (you heard that word here first folks) of my futon please keep that shit to yourself. Its not that I don’t agree- in fact I hear that beds in hotels are way more comfy- its just that I cant really help it so….well… shut the fuck up. Perhaps that icy slab of pavement outside my apartment would be a more comfortable place for your drunken coma.
Never assume that I want to see a Broadway show. Ever.
Sex can be a beautiful thing when shared between two people who love each other….in *their* apartment, on *their* uncomfortable futon, loud enough to wake *their* neighbor’s children. In other words….GET A ROOM. no seriously: http://www.daysinn.com/DaysInn/control/Booking/search_results?brand_code=DI&p_country=US&p_state=NY&p_city=New+York+City
this is in or around *my* fucking place