When you live in New York, it seems that the only nice thing to do is be a pal and open your home to a friend who needs a place to crash. Young New Yorkers especially seem to forget the old adage about fish and guests and stinking after three days, in their efforts to help out their friends. But as close living spaces can endanger friendships as much as romantic relationships, the Post looks at couch surfers who go from apartment to apartment, living off the fat, or the futon, of the land. Director Morgan J. Freeman says, after some particularly terrible experiences, is down on it: "Couch-surfers are the most despicable form of life. People shouldn't come to an expensive city if they don't have money." Damn! Gothamist has always tried to be open to the idea of letting friends crash, but only if they live by our rules (we rule the remote, we don't talk about Richard Dreyfus, etc.) and clean up after us, as well as themselves. So our house guests become self-selecting.

The Post has tips for couch surfers so they don't wear out their welcome. And if you want to leave your living space open to requests, buy a futon or understand futon life from Futon Life magazine.