What a weekend!
Remember our neighbours? The inconsiderate knob-ends who regularly attempt to make friends and influence people by taking enormous amounts of drugs and partying to 10am the next day? Well, guess what? They were motherfucking arrested! Ha!
My partner & housemate dude watched on in glee as these guys were led out of the house and into the paddy wagon, followed by more cops seizing 'evidence', including a large shop-front banner reading "BONG SPECIALIST". Hahahahaha!! I could not be more pleased! If I ever find out who ratted on them, I'll make them a cake! A tasty one, maybe a large tiramisu or something.
So a few hours later, we return from our celebratory dinner and settle down to crap tv and cold beer. I'm on the phone, when I hear the unmistakable sound of shit hitting the fan... and it sounds like a truck. A fucking large one. Running into things. Namely, into the power line to our house. Followed by the equally unmistakable sound of a truck doing a runner, as only trucks can - stealthy and traceless to be sure. Upon inspection with a torch, the fuckhead has managed to completely remove the powerline, the connector that fits on the streets mains, and our fucking phase box - yes, the bit that is normally physically attached to our house.
That's right, the truck has driven off with a portion of our house, trailing a power cable like some sort of bizzarre and electrified tail. Now - if we're thinking that the truck driver was a bit of a jerk, wait until you hear about the landlord. When she was told about the accident by our estate agent, she simply declared that it wasn't her problem, and no, she wasn't going to pay for the electrician to come out and fix it.
"But isn't that her responsibility?", you may well ask - and you would be correct. The agent pointed this out to her too.
Her response? "I didn't cause the damage, so I'm not paying for it".
O....kay.
You wouldn't believe how many times she's pulled this sort of shit. Last year we spent about 6 months with a fucked bathroom door handle, because she wouldn't just have it fixed. Anyone who foolishly shut the door when they went to the toilet would end up having a choice of;
A) climbing out the bathroom window, or;
B) dismantling the doorhandle with the emergency bathroom screwdriver
Sure, we laughed, we cried, and then we laughed even harder when a visitor, high on lsd, got trapped in there and literally started trying to climb the walls; but mostly, we cursed the tightarse landlord.
We knew we were in trouble when the estate agent rang us, crying. In a rare moment of estate agent/tennant unification, we reassured her that 'yes, the landlord is a fucking bitch', and 'no, don't you listen to that nasty lady' . The good news is that I don't think she'll bother us with a house inspection for awhile, and that she called the electrician out anyway. The bad news is that the landlord is still alive.
Slumlords fucking suck. If you can't really afford to buy the house in the firstplace, then you're sure as hell not going to be able to afford the upkeep on it. So don't fucking buy it. Simple equation really; I'm not sure how these people don't understand it. They buy shit houses, rent them out, don't fix anything properly, and then expect you to be thankful for the priviledge of forking over your hard earned cash every month. Fucking pricks! Eat the rich!
Maybe we should send the neighbours over to her house to show her how to have a good time - I can picture it now - a large wooden crate appears on her doorstep... she takes the lid off, and *bam!* Bongs everywhere!
But I hear you cry "But what about my slumlord?! Who can help me, rantolotl?" Well - I'm here to help, and help is what I'll do. I hereby call for the formation of the Tennant Liberation Front! We'll unite and fight for our rights to heating, water & electricity! We'll keep databases of slumlords, and occupy their houses when our essential services remain fucked. When the bastards make us live with substandard repairs, shoddy floorboards, and falling down fences, the TLF will come to the rescue. We'll cut their brakelines when they raise the rent! We'll slash their tyres! We'll fill their garages with hungry dobermans! And sharks! And afterwards, when the battles have been fought and won, when we bask in the warm glow of acceptable housing, we'll have scones and tea.
*ps... the scones will be nice, traditional, round ones.
Remember our neighbours? The inconsiderate knob-ends who regularly attempt to make friends and influence people by taking enormous amounts of drugs and partying to 10am the next day? Well, guess what? They were motherfucking arrested! Ha!
My partner & housemate dude watched on in glee as these guys were led out of the house and into the paddy wagon, followed by more cops seizing 'evidence', including a large shop-front banner reading "BONG SPECIALIST". Hahahahaha!! I could not be more pleased! If I ever find out who ratted on them, I'll make them a cake! A tasty one, maybe a large tiramisu or something.
So a few hours later, we return from our celebratory dinner and settle down to crap tv and cold beer. I'm on the phone, when I hear the unmistakable sound of shit hitting the fan... and it sounds like a truck. A fucking large one. Running into things. Namely, into the power line to our house. Followed by the equally unmistakable sound of a truck doing a runner, as only trucks can - stealthy and traceless to be sure. Upon inspection with a torch, the fuckhead has managed to completely remove the powerline, the connector that fits on the streets mains, and our fucking phase box - yes, the bit that is normally physically attached to our house.
That's right, the truck has driven off with a portion of our house, trailing a power cable like some sort of bizzarre and electrified tail. Now - if we're thinking that the truck driver was a bit of a jerk, wait until you hear about the landlord. When she was told about the accident by our estate agent, she simply declared that it wasn't her problem, and no, she wasn't going to pay for the electrician to come out and fix it.
"But isn't that her responsibility?", you may well ask - and you would be correct. The agent pointed this out to her too.
Her response? "I didn't cause the damage, so I'm not paying for it".
O....kay.
You wouldn't believe how many times she's pulled this sort of shit. Last year we spent about 6 months with a fucked bathroom door handle, because she wouldn't just have it fixed. Anyone who foolishly shut the door when they went to the toilet would end up having a choice of;
A) climbing out the bathroom window, or;
B) dismantling the doorhandle with the emergency bathroom screwdriver
Sure, we laughed, we cried, and then we laughed even harder when a visitor, high on lsd, got trapped in there and literally started trying to climb the walls; but mostly, we cursed the tightarse landlord.
We knew we were in trouble when the estate agent rang us, crying. In a rare moment of estate agent/tennant unification, we reassured her that 'yes, the landlord is a fucking bitch', and 'no, don't you listen to that nasty lady' . The good news is that I don't think she'll bother us with a house inspection for awhile, and that she called the electrician out anyway. The bad news is that the landlord is still alive.
Slumlords fucking suck. If you can't really afford to buy the house in the firstplace, then you're sure as hell not going to be able to afford the upkeep on it. So don't fucking buy it. Simple equation really; I'm not sure how these people don't understand it. They buy shit houses, rent them out, don't fix anything properly, and then expect you to be thankful for the priviledge of forking over your hard earned cash every month. Fucking pricks! Eat the rich!
Maybe we should send the neighbours over to her house to show her how to have a good time - I can picture it now - a large wooden crate appears on her doorstep... she takes the lid off, and *bam!* Bongs everywhere!
But I hear you cry "But what about my slumlord?! Who can help me, rantolotl?" Well - I'm here to help, and help is what I'll do. I hereby call for the formation of the Tennant Liberation Front! We'll unite and fight for our rights to heating, water & electricity! We'll keep databases of slumlords, and occupy their houses when our essential services remain fucked. When the bastards make us live with substandard repairs, shoddy floorboards, and falling down fences, the TLF will come to the rescue. We'll cut their brakelines when they raise the rent! We'll slash their tyres! We'll fill their garages with hungry dobermans! And sharks! And afterwards, when the battles have been fought and won, when we bask in the warm glow of acceptable housing, we'll have scones and tea.
*ps... the scones will be nice, traditional, round ones.
4 comments:
Go fuck yourself and your round scones! SQUARE SCONES FOREVER!
We are still waiting on the bond for the house we left a year an a half ago...
the one that the landlord promised would have the hole in the ceiling fixed (never did) and the mould on the carpet from where the rain came in removed (never was) and the gap in the doors where the rain would come in fixed... (didnt do it) and the sewerage pipes that blocked and threatened exploding - which WE had to fix cos she wouldnt do it and we didnt want a poo fest in the back yard.
The list goes on... but we have sent several million (slight exaggeration) e mails and she keeps asking us to be patient cos she isn't in a 'good place financially"
yes. eat the rich.
Scone dough must be lightly handled, not squished into rounds. That is why the best and lightest scones are cut into squares.
Procrastination seems to be the element of every dislikable landlord. I've yet to face this problem personally as I'm still living with my parents and have yet to move out.
My brother on the other hand, has encountered similar problems since he moved into an appartment in St Kilda East not long ago. When he first moved in he needed a card that was responsible for enabling a utility to work (I forget whether it was for electricity or something else).
It was supposed to arrive in the mail but it hadn't, so he called his landlord and when he told him that it hadn't arrived this was his response "Oh...um...that's strange it must have got lost in the mail" quite clearly he had forgotten and it would have been nice if he at least admitted that he forgot.
He is also faced with a shower problem that the lanlord is obligided to fix and hasn't. I'll have to ask him if he has been faced with other landlord dilemmas.
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