There are benefits in having a friend like Lou... Truly. You get free and endless massages, someone to clean up after you and wash your socks. You get someone who constantly tells you how good looking you are, is always ready to bring food and drink when you are watching the sport, and someone who is always willing to slave over a hot stove and cook dinner at the drop of a hat.

Or so I was led to believe thanks to male dominated pop-culture stereotyped television programs. Oh dearest TV, how could you mislead me like this?

Instead, I give you my open letter to Lou.

Dearest Louisa.

I really enjoy having you come over to my place on a regular basis to study, and I'm perfectly happy having you sit on my bed with your nerd books while im listening to online lectures. But I'm starting to notice that you have a problem with your mouth.

The problem is, that you can't seem to get food to go inside of it. I don't know why, I'm pretty sure its big enough, taking into account all the talking you do. Maybe you have problems with your little oompa loompa arms?

How did I come to this conclusion? Crumbs. Everywhere.

It started with biscuit crumbs. Arrowroot biscuit crumbs to be precise. You ate half a packet of them while studying. And then you knocked the packet off my bed, and left them strewn across the floor.

I found crumbs everywhere. There were crumbs on the floor, crumbs on my doona, and somehow you managed to get crumbs under my pillow and under my sheets. I slid in under the sheets, only to have my skin sandpapered away through the course of the night from crumbs.

And then less than two days later you struck again. This time it was cheezels. *Cheezel dust* to be exact. I could feel the fine layer of cheezel dust strewn across the beadspread, leaving an orange film on the palm of my hand.

The final straw came the other night. We had KFC for dinner, and you ate on my bed again. I figured with KFC you would actually be careful with your oompa loompa arms and mouth. Surely.

No. This time you left chicken underneath my pillow. Not a whole drumstick mind you. Just pieces of crumbed skin. I found them at about 3am, and it is not the nicest thing to wake up to. I mean, don't get me wrong or anything, I do love a good meal at KFC as much as the next fast food eating giant. But just not crumbed chicken under my pillow at 3am.

So Lou, next time you come over and eat on my bed, remind me to put some plastic drop sheets first.

Will.