Do you know what I love? I LOVE staying in hotel rooms. It’s always so much fun going to a hotel.

What I love most about staying in a hotel, though, is getting to spend a lot of money to go sleep in a bed that 10,000 other people have slept in before you. In fact, when I first get to a hotel I like to look around at all the people with whom I would never want to share a bed but who probably slept the night before in the bed I’m about to be given.

Then when you finally do get up to this “sanitized” room, you get to drink out of a glass that’s been sitting upside down on the bathroom countertop. Oh yes, I know exactly what the maids do with that rag. It goes straight from the toilet to the countertop. That’s just wonderful.

Then when I finally roll into my bed that 10,000 other people have slept in (and had sex in), I get to turn out the lights and listen to my neighbors coughing all night long. When hotel designers get together, for some reason they always decide to use the thinnest Sheetrock they can find for the walls. I think Kleenex must make the Sheetrock for hotel walls.

There is nothing worse than laying in a hotel bed (that 10,000 other people have slept in) and listening to the person in the next room cough all night . . . except maybe hearing the people in the next room having sex. I think there is nothing grosser than hearing someone grunt and groan, especially the nasty people you see in the lobby.

Call me a snob if you want, but I feel that paying a couple hundred dollars for a room entitles you to peace, quiet . . . and a comforter that doesn’t have other people’s cum all over it! I don’t get it. How hard is it to wash the comforter or bedspread?

I have a rule when I go to a hotel. If the hotel bed has a bedspread, it comes immediately off of the bed. I don’t want to touch someone else’s cum-stained bedspread, though, so I always take one of the washcloths and use that to grab the bedspread and throw it on the ground. Unfortunately, since the maid always does her job, that bedspread always ends up right back on the bed the next night.

So as I sit here tonight preparing to get on a plane and stay in some hotel rooms over the next few days (as in a few of those 10,000 use beds), I wonder why I always suffer with insomnia when I stay in a hotel. I’ve finally figured it out: I can’t get all of these disgusting images out of my mind!