I try to be a good houseguest. No, fuck that, I try to be a great houseguest. Sure sometimes, you get a little too comfortable with where you staying and leave your underwear sitting in the kitchen sink. And, maybe sometimes you get caught jacking off on the couch when homeboy is trying to watch a movie with his old lady, but on the “reg” I like to think that I can hold my own. My life is one really really long couch surf. This can be a very satisfying existence for all parties involved if the houseguest can step his game up and be a prince not a pauper.
Be invisible: Being invisible can turn your temporary living situation in a semi- long term one very easily. It seems like some scientology bullshit, but I swear to god it works. Once you get into your new digs scan the room for a place to store your giant ugly duffel bag. No no no, not the open space in the middle of the living room. Go for the spot hidden underneath the kitchen table that is coved in record mailers. You know, the one that has never actually been used for its intended purpose. Shove it to the back of the wall and be sure that as soon as you’re done with whatever the fuck it is that your doing, to put it back where it came from. Out of sight out of mind. There’s nothing more annoying then some dickhead crashing on your couch for a goddamn month and every time you try to walk to the pisser at 4am, homeboys goddamn dirty laundry gets in the way and next thing you know you’re face down in the litter box. Has happened. Shit sucks.
Clean up after everybody: Yes everybody, not just yourself. Most mother fuckers hate doing dishes and cleaning bathrooms ( and frankly, I can’t blame ‘em. People will always be more inclined to let you stay if you consistently do all the mundane bullshit they hate doing. This means clean the toilet, wash the goddamn dishes and for god sakes, take out the fucking trash. Make sure not to only repair that damage that you caused. Go the extra mile and pick up the whole houses shit. It’s not rocket science, its good housekeeping baby. Bam.
Don’t break the rules: Hey, I fucking hate rules. However, sometimes you gotta pay the cost to be the boss. If some goddamn idiot your buddy met on craigslist while looking for a SWF to live with doesn’t want ya to smoke in the house, don’t. If the ladies at the LGBT compound don’t allow dogs (which would never happen) just leave the little shit roller outside. And for goddsakes don’t eat other peoples food, not matter how loaded you are or how much it pisses you off when some asshole writes their name on a Togo box of left over shitty Chinese food (which, they will probably never eat anyway). Also, if you’re dead set on smoking in the house do it in the bathroom with an open window and preferably with a toilet paper roll filled with fabric softener, high school style.
Buy some goddamn food for the goddamn house: Don’t be a dick, buy some shit. Fucking toilet paper, fucking cereal, fucking romin, whatever. Joe Blow will be a lot less inclined to kick you to the curb if he has his stupid thin lips wrapped around a free bottle of Pellegrino. All compliments of whatever food stamp provider of your choice.
Don’t sit on the couch all day watching TV: It’s not your couch and believe it or not, some one who actually pays rent might want to sit and chill after a long day at work. People really get up tight when you do that. I learned the hard way. Not to mention that I un-tivo’ed all his programs, but that was just because he was a dick. Fight fire with fire. Naw mean?
I’m really not trying to come across as a know it all . Frankly all the tutelage I can give is only because I have fucked up literally all of these things. I’ve gotten caught throwing bones in a buddy’s bed that was letting me stay on his couch. I once took a bite out of a block of cheese while wasted and put it back in the fridge. Lord knows I’ve urinated on more then my fair share of couches. I’ve broken windows and most recently spilt tattoo ink all over my friend’s bed and put a pillow over it in hopes to cover my tracks. Little did I know that now the pillow would be covered in ink as well and I was just gonna end up leading a Hansel and Grettle’esk trail back to my pallet on the floor. Man, looking back, a lot of these involve beds. I should really stay the fuck out of other people’s rooms.
A few weeks ago a bunch of buddies and I were in Dallas for a gig. Unfortunately, that’s where I’m from and it being Memorial Day and all figured that I’d give my folks a buzz and try to get some backyard family time in while simultaneously introducing them to the click. My parents place is pretty cramped so we high tailed it to my sister’s place in Dallas proper. Plus, she’s got a pool. If you were to put me a sister in a room, you would not believe we are related. She is the best though and has taken off all the pressure off me to become financially successful. Any way, back to the point. Me and a gang of about 20 people showed up, drank a bunch of beer and swam for hours. However as soon as we left in the morning the place looked like we had never been there. That’s what I’m talking about friends. Keep yo shit clean.
Send bullshit to ldworrell@gmail.com
