Since Willie’s under the weather, and Niki’s probably unpacking from her move across town, here’s a post from guest blogger and friend of The GignerFly, HOLLYWOOD GIRL.

I, like everyone and their Mother (literally), am addicted to social networking. Facebook has revolutionized the way I build relationships. There are its pros and cons, but I love the fact that I can connect with my long lost playmates. I can understand how that can be more of a hassle than it’s worth. Most of the time, you get a lot of old high school acquaintances friending you even though, at best, they never spoke to you, and at worst, they duct taped you to a flag pole or wrote your number on the bathroom wall under the word “BLOWJOBS”. Despite revisiting some traumatic memories, there are some rare moments in which you get the chance to reconnect with someone you were once very close to. Sometimes the conditions are perfect and that childhood playmate comes into your life again prepared to share new memories. But other times… what you hope will be a wonderful reunion turns out to be the most uncomfortable weekend of the year. The friend you once knew as a happy-go-lucky teenager, lover of Star Wars and Laffy Taffy has become a socially inept individual, with strange fixations and an unsettling unawareness of other people. And so I begin my story…

When I was in high school, I had a small circle of friends that performed in a theatre troupe. I was a relatively shy teenager, and I often felt out of place. I think that’s why this group of kids connected. We had art to bring us together. My friend L was one of the shy, quirky performers in the troupe. I remember him being talented, and very determined. He could memorize his lines in no time and was a skilled Lion Dancer. Once, he took me to the mall. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was his first date. There was a grocery store there, and he asked if we could stop in to get something. The only thing he wanted was a quart of real milk. We sat on a bench outside the grocery store while he drank it. It was such a treat to him because his parents never used real milk, they only bought powdered milk, convinced that it was the same thing if you just added water. It’s a very sweet memory that we share.

As it goes, I went off to college and he went on his way. I never thought I’d run into him again.

And then came facebook…

It was so nice when I reconnected with L: I found out what he had been doing all these years, and I was excited to hear about his future plans. When he told me that he wasn’t very happy living in his city, I told him, “You know, maybe you should just get out of your town and come to Los Angeles. You can crash on my couch and I’ll show you around. You can visit your friends down here. You just need a break.”

How history repeats itself. Again, I did not realize that he was thinking that this was going to be a romantic rendezvous in my city. All of a sudden, his messages were addressed to “Cutie” and there were little texts in LOLSpeak, which to me (and many nerds) is the retard equivalent of Baby Talk. “I can has your number pls? Kthxbai!” “Looking adorable: You’re doin it pretty well ackchooally.” I was starting to think that it was a bad idea to have invited him, since I wasn’t interested in him in that way at all. The LOLSpeak was really unattractive.

He asked me if such and such weekend would be convenient for a visit, and I said sure. I thought that a weekend meant that he’d come in on Saturday and leave on Sunday. He purchased a ticket that had him arriving during my workday on Friday and departing during my workday on Monday. I was not anticipating the additional days in which I needed to be entertaining someone. But whatever, that was something I’d deal with. I told him he’d have to wait for me to pick him up.

The minute he landed in LA, he sent me a text. I replied to him telling him that I was at work and that I would get to him as soon as possible, just let me know where he ends up. He went to a library and stayed there for the entire day and when I picked him up, he couldn’t help but moan about it. I figured, whatever he had to moan about, it wasn’t my problem: he’s the guy that purchased a ticket on a flight that arrived during my workday.

We went to a 50s Diner in Venice Beach so that he could get some food in him. That’s when the spitting started. As soon as we got out of the car, he hocked up a loogie and spit it into the street. I’m not just talking about a discrete little “Patooey…” He was doing the full on gutteral, “Hhhccckkkkkk! Pfft!” launching a giant thing of mucus several feet into the distance. Between the car on the street and the door of the restaurant not twenty steps away, he did this twice.

When we sat down to dinner, he blew his nose really loudly into his napkin. He did this at every meal.

Throughout dinner he kept making fart jokes.

I didn’t know what to do, but this was seriously grossing me out.

When we went back to my apartment, I noticed that he stomped. He stomped everywhere.

It was as though he had walked into my space and he had claimed it. He left his clothes scattered about and he used my toothpaste without asking.

He didn’t ask me for a towel, he just used my roommate’s hand towels.

When he prepared to go to bed, there were more loogies hocked into my sink, which he would extract from the bowels of his respiratory system with a “HHhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyccckkkkk!” that seemed to go on forever.

When he woke up in the morning, he grunted and groaned, he would pee with an extremely loud sigh.

He complained very loudly about my neighbors.

He required a meal every three hours. THREE HOURS! That meant that I would have to also eat with him every three hours. That’s a lot of money and food! When I’d ask him what he’d want to eat, he would say, “Something with vegetables and meat.” “L, that’s every kind of food known to man, it doesn’t really narrow it down for me where you want to go.” “I dunno. Something crisp and clean.”  “L, I don’t know what that means, so we’re going to Mexican.” Also, he would blow his nose really loudly at the table every time we ate out.

Without asking, he drank half a carton of my roommate’s expensive juice.

Everywhere we went, I was mortified when he’d speak, so I would take him places that played music so loud he wouldn’t get the opportunity.

The spitting didn’t stop. It was almost a constant thing. When I would comment about it, he’d say, “I’m congested!” As though it made it any better that he had an excuse for a really disgusting habit.

By the end of Day 2, I was ready to tell him to stay in a motel. But I couldn’t bring myself to be that cold. I’d have to endure and distract him for as long as possible.

Finally, I figured out his weakness: Wine. I took him to a wine bar and he finally relaxed and got quiet after a glass of wine. After the second glass, he was ready to go to bed.

I’ve never been so relieved to drop someone off at the airport.  My roommate was actually concerned that he would become upset and then slit my throat while I slept. I know L, and I know he’s harmless. But never have I been so annoyed and mortified to be associated with anyone.

I guess I could blame myself and say that I probably should have gotten to know him a little bit better before I invited him to crash on my couch. But I’m gonna go ahead and blame facebook for this one. How dare you, facebook, make my life so accessible to old friends who have become socially inept! How dare you!

 Signed,

Hollywood Girl
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