Re: Rules for Badly Behaved Guests
This poor girl got me to thinking about all the myriad ways my generosity as a host has been abused ever sinced I acquired a Manhattan zip code. I'd like to add / clarify the following to her much justified tirade:
* On the number ONE, which is singular, not dual and certainly not plural.
When I last saw you a year ago, and invited you to come and visit us in our new cool but cozy west village pad, the invitation applied to YOU. I did not invite YOU and GUEST, just you. Still, you insisted that you would have to bring your girlfriend along, and we acquiesced because we are sweet and hospitable people. Though our 1 bedroom isn't that big, and you were well aware you would be occupying our living room, this didn't stop you for booking your non refundable tickets for a BLOODY FORTNIGHT stay without consulting us at first. But the best part of this was that you showed up at our door at midnight on the friday night you arrived (we had been waiting in for you, see, because we wanted to be good hosts and frankly we live in the west village just so we can stay in on friday nights) after having 'gone out for some sushi first.' with your YOUR BEST MATE in tow. "Yah we dont know anyone else in new york we were hoping he could just crash at yours . . . he doesn't mind the couch." Oh how kind of him not to mind the couch. Fuck you.
* On puke.
I spent 45 minutes scrubbing the bathroom before you whooshed in from Philly "cause I just REALLY need to get away for the weekend." You proceeded to attend a party to which you did not invite us, get wasted off your head chasing some pretty boy who wouldnt give you the time of day, then come home at three in the morning and projectile vomit purple-hued dorito remnants all over my bathroom. How you got them stuck to the BACK of the toilet I'll never quite guess. I guess the way the laws of etiquette don't apply to you, neither do the laws of physics. Oh you thought you cleaned up after yourself, but what you actually did was smear it in circles with one of my fluffy hand towels and then REPLACE THE TOWEL FOLDED INSIDE OUT so maybe no one would notice. Highly crafty there, my friend. I nearly wept when I discovered my handiwork defiled at 6AM the following morning getting ready for work. It looked like someone had murdererd a prostitute on my floor. Your response was, "Yah I think that bloody mary you made me did something to my stomach. But I managed to get most of it in the toilet tho." Gold star for you asshole.
* On other unpleasant bodily functions.
Guests: your bodily fluids are neither mine nor my significant other's and therefore it is NOT OK for me to encounter them in MY apartment. This means urine, feces, facial mucous, blood menstrual and not, semen and santorum, for those of you too fucking thick to know. There are cleaning supplies (most importantly, BLEACH) in most cupboards. There are laundry machines in the building which i have pointed out to you at the beginning of your stay. Ah yes and if you are a vigorous, smelly, or particularly dark shitter, there is a brush next to the toilet and matches placed not so discreetly on the back. Not just for candles, genius.
* On body hair.
We all have it kids, and I have accepted the inevitability that it falls off in places like the bed and the bathroom. And that's ok. I'm also OK with people using my shower soap, provided they're considerate about it. CASE IN POINT: The TWO independent guests who put me through the trauma of finding their horrid, wiry ass pubes cemented to my soap in the morning. I mean are you trying to drive me to hang myself from my metal shower caddy? You patently ignored the lovely clean washcloths you were provided with and instead thought it would be better (more convenient? more titilating?) to shove my soap directly up your wretched anus. I curse you and your genetically handicapped offspring.
* Derisory comments about the futon.
Yeah it's slightly bent when you pull it out. Know why that is? Cause my best friend had some pretty freaky sex on it all night long and all night strong about a year ago when it was her birthday and she deserved it, but its never been the same since. I'm not gonna tell you that because I am nice and things like sheets and condoms were involved, so no harm no foul. Deal with it. If you have a problem you can head uptown to the Mandarin Oriental where they dont have futons and surely no one ever has freaky sex in the beds.
* Upon leaving the apartment.
Since we both have full time jobs and are often away from home or even traveling on business, you sometimes luck out and have the whole place to yourself all day. It's nice isnt it, livin the dream without payin the rent. I'm glad you saw it fit to repay this kindness by making me believe I had been ROBBED upon my return home from most recent business trip. The imprint of your body was still visible on the couch you had failed to put a sheet on before you slept on. My most favorite blanket was in a pile on the floor. Last night's dinner dishes were festering in the sink (yes, I do have a dishwasher for a reason you inconsiderate fuck). Food whose rightful place is in the refrigerator was sunbathing on the counter. Trash was overflowing from the bin, also remnants of last night's dinner. Our books and DVDs had been taken down and apparently scattered at random around the apartment. It took me two weeks to rid the apartment of cigarette stench and four months to find where you hid the TV controller (you freak).
Let me share something with you. When you, like me, are an economic success then you are welcome stay in a hotel and rid yourself of this tiresome burden of personal responsibility and consideration for those you call your friends. You can also hire a maid to follow you around, clean up your messes, wipe the toilet seat after you piss on it, etc. But until then I am your generous host, not your galley slave or your room attendant at the Four Seasons. The next chocolate you find on your pillow will be followed by me bludgeoning you with my paperweight and dumping your body down the garbage chute where it can continue this pattern of desecration as part of a staten island landfill.