I'm going to punch you in the face.

I am going to punch you in the face.

You are driving me nuts. Mainly because you're passive-agressive, moreso because you're an idiot. This whole mess started with you hinting, "So, guys, um.. my lease is up soon and I'll have nowhere to stay for a few weeks. So, yeah.. that sucks." Unfortunately, my boyfriend is nicer than I am and offered to have you stay with us, provided I didn't mind. Like an idiot, I agreed to let you stay. I knew what you were like as a roommate. You've lived here before, and if I remember correctly, the night you moved out was a night of celebration in Casa de Meg. Luckily, we had the foresight to put a two-week limit on it this time, to which you readily agreed. A week and a half into it, just as I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you let it casually slip into our conversation about where to go for dinner that your apartment wouldn't be ready in two weeks. Really?

Could that possibly be because you've been spending all day sleeping and all night jacking off in front of my computer? (Honestly, dude, you aren't that subtle, and I found "Anal Angel" clips in the recycle bin of my computer. Oh, and it might be quicker if you take it a little easier for awhile. Pounding it like a monkey in a mango tree isn't doing Jr any favors, and it's giving me nightmares.)

Somehow, you insinuated yourself into a conversation about where to get dinner and not only tried to invite yourself to that (denied, and thank god the boyfriend's a quick thinker when it counts), you also "let it slip" that you wouldn't have anywhere to stay, due to some old lady not being able to move out on time. When asked why you wouldn't be staying at your mothers, you opened your big, stupid mouth and said, "She said I have to stay here, cause I'm not welcome at her house."

Do yourself a favor: don't lie to me. I know your mother. Sweet, a little kooky, generally nice. She's the type to have rules, and we both know that's the only reason you wouldn't stay with her. Not that she wouldn't have a few golden reasons to bar you from her home, she's just too nice to go through with it. Go. Be with your real mother, instead of using me as a surrogate. I don't want to buy and cook you dinner, I don't want to clean your piss off my toilet. I'm sure her floor is just as nice as ours, and her carpet is probably comparatively low in bodily secretions since you haven't been drooling or screwing on it lately. No, you've been kind enough to save the screwing for the middle of the afternoon with your slut girlfriend, on the FLOOR of the BABY'S ROOM. She might not live here all week, but DUDE. She plays on that floor on the weekends. I don't want to have to worry having to explain to her mother how her two-year-old caught an STD by hugging Elmo.

"Hey, we should get drunk sometime." That... doesn't work for me. Yes, I have a fully stocked liquor cabinet. No, you may not have access to it just because I feel like having a cocktail or two. Buy your own damned alcohol. "That would be fun, right?" I'm not naturally nice, I don't get much nicer when I drink, so getting me drunk doesn't count as a free pass to everything that's mine. And by the by, babysitting a drunk you and your drunk ho while you clumsily fondle each other on the couch while I sit on the floor because you're too rude to offer me a seat in my own home does not sound like "fun" to me. Nor does buying you beer, which I believe was what you were slyly hinting at when you said, "Hey, you should get some beer. You look like you need one." If you're old enough to drink, you're old enough to BUY YOUR OWN.

PS, that goes for my groceries too. Stop drinking my milk and eating my granola (and when you do, cause I know you'll do it again, don't complain that "It tastes like trees." That's why I like it, dipshit). And thanks ever so much for reassuring me I don't, "need to worry" about "providing (you) with" soda and candy, since this week you got your girlfriend to buy it. Are you three years old? Soda and candy? I would almost feel better if you were a herion addict. That, at least, is an adult addiction.

DUDE... I saw that. I'm sitting here in the room with you, and I'm typing, but I'm not completely blind. I saw you just scrounge change out of the furniture to go "feed your need" for sugar. That change belongs to either my boyfriend or I, and even if it didn't fall out of our pockets, we could just consider it rent. Lord knows the only way we'll get money is if it falls off your body when you're not looking.

Didn't we just agree, oh, LAST NIGHT that Slutbox the Skanknificent isn't welcome to stay the night? Having her leave from midnight to two A.M. doesn't count as not spending the night. Having her pass me on her way out the door at one in the morning and say, "I'll see you tomorrow!" isn't quite following the spirit of our agreement. We agreed to let YOU stay, not stay and entertain and use as your personal shag-pad.

For God's sake, the BABY'S BEDROOM. I haven't even done it there!

Having you with us has changed me, maybe permanently. Thank you for teaching me never to open my home to someone like you again (In case you're wondering, by "someone like you" I mean "A giant douchebag"). Thank you for standing out on my porch and peeing into traffic, I love that for the rest of my stay here everyone will think I live with the type of guy who PEES into TRAFFIC. Thank you for peeing off the porch, not only into traffic but also onto the walkway I have to use every day to get into my house. Thanks for those few desperate moments that you DO use the proper facilities. There's nothing more relaxing than a heavy pounding on the door and a "Can you hurry up, please? It's kinda an emergency!"

Thanks for using my toilet, and letting your girlfriend use it, before telling one or both of us that you have herpes. Thanks for the possibility of recieving the Gift that Keeps On Giving. Thanks for losing the remote to every remote thing in our home, for blasting that one song by Evanescence ALL NIGHT LONG, for using the tools and leaving them out in the rain, thanks for crippling my dog. Thanks for shutting off Jeopardy while I was watching it to put in season three of That 70's Show. Thanks for everything, it's been a joyride.

Now, please, leave, or I will punch you in the face.