You’re the bitter,
overweight, petty crap-talking landlord with a chip on your
shoulder. I’m the tall blonde tenant who never tried to kiss your ass
and paid the price. I legitimately moved into the apartment almost a
year ago, but the name on the lease was my boyfriend’s. You wigged out
on me as I was leaving and didn’t have time to argue with you. Not
enough that you pressure-washed my cat—hard to believe your hatred of
that animal caused all this—but then you had to call me a “dumb f-ing
bitch” as I left the driveway. Wow, really adult and professional of
you to treat your tenant that way. Then you threatened me physically
and generally acted like a total cow. Should have expected you to get
the police to show up and say I couldn’t re-enter the premises—even to
get my things. Just wanted to let you know that I don’t know where I’m
sleeping each night and that everything I own is still in the house you
so abruptly banned me from entering. Great example to set for your
young children. I wish I called child services when I heard you
working your kids over—maybe I’d at least have some satisfaction that
you got your just desserts for making me homeless.
Comments
comments