(no subject)
Dec. 3rd, 2008 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickDear ex-tenant...
When you are standing there, asking me to let you in to the apartment to get your stuff out, do not insult my intelligence by telling me that you are not the kind of person who turns a nice apartment into a shithole.
The fact that the apartment had no water because it had been shut off by the borough office, for nonpayment of the water bill, that told me pretty clearly what kind of person you were.
If I didn't manage to pick up on the fact that you weren't paying your water bill (Helpful Hint for Deadbeat Tenants: The borough sends us shut-off notices if we own the property, even if you're the one supposed to be paying the water bill.), then the fact that you also weren't bothering to heat the place (thereby putting my pipes at risk of freezing in late November in the mountains of PA) would have clued me in a bit.
Had I been blind enough to miss the lack of water or the failure to heat my property (neither of which I missed), the fact that you were two months back on the fucking rent might have perhaps enlightened me as to your true nature.
Those were the big neon signs telling me that the only difference between you and poor white trash was the cafe au lait tone of your skin. However, if I'd been a forty watt bulb even then, I might have noticed one or more of the following socioeconomic indicators. No one indicator is a killer, but when they're taken as a group, they're kind of incriminating...
1. You left zero vegetables in the fridge. (Frozen french fries are not a vegetable.) You did leave a bunch of other stuff, including expensive meat, so I'm betting that there never were any veggies in the fridge.
2. The freezer was full of expensive cuts of meat (boneless skinless chicken breasts, nice steaks, big packs of thick cut pork chops). I wish I could afford to shop like that.
3. All walls and ceilings of the apartment need to be washed. Some will need to be painted. (Tar on the ceilings, chocolate milk and Dr. Pepper all over the fucking walls.) You were there slightly more than a year and the place was clean when you got it.
4. The oven was a fucking wreck. The lower the tenant is on the socioeconomic scale, the greater the odds that he/she cooks like white trash (greasy, lots of pre-made food cooked under a broiler) and does not clean the oven.
5. The vacated apartment contained multiple surprise half-cans of soda filled with cigarette butts. Nothing says class like that, lady. I also liked the raw boneless, skinless chicken breasts that you left rotting in the sink.
6. The front door had a broken large plexi window. It wasn't just cracked. It was broken such that a large piece was removeable. You "fixed" this with duct tape. Nice job! I could hardly see where you repaired it.
7. My apartment now has dead flies stuck to the ceiling. I'm not sure how you managed that, but I've got to give you credit for the nice textural effect. The fly shit, thick enough that the ceilings looked like the hide of a leopard appaloosa, that was a nice bonus too.
8. Cabinets full of mouse shit speak volumes about your housekeeping skills. I am a total fucking slob and I don't have cabinets full of mouse shit. You simply must tell me your secrets.
9. Every fucking faucet in the place leaked and the toilet was running. You know, I would have come fixed all that stuff and not once yelled at you about all the smoking of weed going on. You never even tried to call me to fix your shit but you went to the borough office (to not-pay your water bill) and raged to the lady there about how terrible a landlord I am. Cunt.
10. You left me a dead sofa-bed thing (I fucking hate these. They're heavy, unweildy, and prone to falling open at inconvenient moments.) which I had to move to the drop box by myself. My lower back is still thanking you for that.
11. You left me more than ten large black thirty-gallon trash bags of left-behind shit. (I had to supply the trash bags and do the picking up. You just left shit strewn all over hell and gone.) Tell me something -- why do the poor have so fucking much shit? I don't get it. I thought "poor" meant you didn't own anything... but every time I evict the fucking poor, they leave me all kinds of shit. The amount of crap left behind by my tenants is inversely related to their personal wealth.
12. Every single faucet's aerator has been removed. Middle class tenants DO NOT remove the fucking aerators. White trash tenants invariably do so. I have no idea what the excitement is with the fucking aerators. Do you smoke dope with the little screens in them or what?
13. You went to the JP and begged off on the hearing due to "illness" so that they'd reschedule it two weeks later and give you two more free weeks (at my expense) in the apartment. You thought we wouldn't remember that you did the same fucking thing back when we filed on you in May of 2008. We are not that stupid. We remembered. God, you're a lying cunt.
14. You trashed a perfectly good (new when you moved in) carpet. It might clean up some but Rug Doctor can't fix cigarette burns. The carpet in the other bedroom was showing some age and I'm okay with replacing it. The loose one in the living room, you rolled that up, drug it down to the basement, and proceeded to use it as flooring for your PARTAY PALACE where you drank and got high next to the water heater and furnace, away from your three squalling brats. (Do you even know how much your life sucks? I'm running out of words to describe your squalidity.) It wasn't a terrible piece of carpet when you got it, but now it smells sort of like piss (there's a thin high ammonia note) but MOSTLY like the hydrocarbon bouquet of fuel oil (which you spilled all over it). I'm throwing it away.
15. Offering "to clean" (with the water turned off, mind you) my trashed apartment when you showed up to get the rest of your shit out of it was a waste of breath. The only thing I thought when I heard that was that you were entertaining the hope that I would put fuel in the tank, turn the water back on, and then LET YOU BACK IN "to clean". I strained something, internally, so that I wouldn't laugh in your face.
So, then, ex-tenant Amber. I know full well what kind of person you are. I know better than your co-workers, your kid's kindergarten teacher, your social worker, and your foster mother, the one who came with you to rent the apartment and acted all like it wasn't good enough for you because you weren't "that kind of person".
You are that kind of person. You are. And, oh, you'd hate this if you read it, but bitch? I knew you were like that kind of person when I rented to you in the first place.
(For our non-german-speaking friends, helpful and vivid translations of Rammstein lyrics are available here. They sing about some weird shit. To save you some time, the current tune is about, er, bending someone over to fuck 'em. I just like the way it sounds. Also, if I personally was a member of a german industrial metal band, I'd write a wholesome and sweet song about puppies or kittens or something... perhaps raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, even. And then I'd set it to a driving beat and sing it angry (like, say, Feuer frei!) because that would totally be just the funniest thing ever.)
When you are standing there, asking me to let you in to the apartment to get your stuff out, do not insult my intelligence by telling me that you are not the kind of person who turns a nice apartment into a shithole.
The fact that the apartment had no water because it had been shut off by the borough office, for nonpayment of the water bill, that told me pretty clearly what kind of person you were.
If I didn't manage to pick up on the fact that you weren't paying your water bill (Helpful Hint for Deadbeat Tenants: The borough sends us shut-off notices if we own the property, even if you're the one supposed to be paying the water bill.), then the fact that you also weren't bothering to heat the place (thereby putting my pipes at risk of freezing in late November in the mountains of PA) would have clued me in a bit.
Had I been blind enough to miss the lack of water or the failure to heat my property (neither of which I missed), the fact that you were two months back on the fucking rent might have perhaps enlightened me as to your true nature.
Those were the big neon signs telling me that the only difference between you and poor white trash was the cafe au lait tone of your skin. However, if I'd been a forty watt bulb even then, I might have noticed one or more of the following socioeconomic indicators. No one indicator is a killer, but when they're taken as a group, they're kind of incriminating...
1. You left zero vegetables in the fridge. (Frozen french fries are not a vegetable.) You did leave a bunch of other stuff, including expensive meat, so I'm betting that there never were any veggies in the fridge.
2. The freezer was full of expensive cuts of meat (boneless skinless chicken breasts, nice steaks, big packs of thick cut pork chops). I wish I could afford to shop like that.
3. All walls and ceilings of the apartment need to be washed. Some will need to be painted. (Tar on the ceilings, chocolate milk and Dr. Pepper all over the fucking walls.) You were there slightly more than a year and the place was clean when you got it.
4. The oven was a fucking wreck. The lower the tenant is on the socioeconomic scale, the greater the odds that he/she cooks like white trash (greasy, lots of pre-made food cooked under a broiler) and does not clean the oven.
5. The vacated apartment contained multiple surprise half-cans of soda filled with cigarette butts. Nothing says class like that, lady. I also liked the raw boneless, skinless chicken breasts that you left rotting in the sink.
6. The front door had a broken large plexi window. It wasn't just cracked. It was broken such that a large piece was removeable. You "fixed" this with duct tape. Nice job! I could hardly see where you repaired it.
7. My apartment now has dead flies stuck to the ceiling. I'm not sure how you managed that, but I've got to give you credit for the nice textural effect. The fly shit, thick enough that the ceilings looked like the hide of a leopard appaloosa, that was a nice bonus too.
8. Cabinets full of mouse shit speak volumes about your housekeeping skills. I am a total fucking slob and I don't have cabinets full of mouse shit. You simply must tell me your secrets.
9. Every fucking faucet in the place leaked and the toilet was running. You know, I would have come fixed all that stuff and not once yelled at you about all the smoking of weed going on. You never even tried to call me to fix your shit but you went to the borough office (to not-pay your water bill) and raged to the lady there about how terrible a landlord I am. Cunt.
10. You left me a dead sofa-bed thing (I fucking hate these. They're heavy, unweildy, and prone to falling open at inconvenient moments.) which I had to move to the drop box by myself. My lower back is still thanking you for that.
11. You left me more than ten large black thirty-gallon trash bags of left-behind shit. (I had to supply the trash bags and do the picking up. You just left shit strewn all over hell and gone.) Tell me something -- why do the poor have so fucking much shit? I don't get it. I thought "poor" meant you didn't own anything... but every time I evict the fucking poor, they leave me all kinds of shit. The amount of crap left behind by my tenants is inversely related to their personal wealth.
12. Every single faucet's aerator has been removed. Middle class tenants DO NOT remove the fucking aerators. White trash tenants invariably do so. I have no idea what the excitement is with the fucking aerators. Do you smoke dope with the little screens in them or what?
13. You went to the JP and begged off on the hearing due to "illness" so that they'd reschedule it two weeks later and give you two more free weeks (at my expense) in the apartment. You thought we wouldn't remember that you did the same fucking thing back when we filed on you in May of 2008. We are not that stupid. We remembered. God, you're a lying cunt.
14. You trashed a perfectly good (new when you moved in) carpet. It might clean up some but Rug Doctor can't fix cigarette burns. The carpet in the other bedroom was showing some age and I'm okay with replacing it. The loose one in the living room, you rolled that up, drug it down to the basement, and proceeded to use it as flooring for your PARTAY PALACE where you drank and got high next to the water heater and furnace, away from your three squalling brats. (Do you even know how much your life sucks? I'm running out of words to describe your squalidity.) It wasn't a terrible piece of carpet when you got it, but now it smells sort of like piss (there's a thin high ammonia note) but MOSTLY like the hydrocarbon bouquet of fuel oil (which you spilled all over it). I'm throwing it away.
15. Offering "to clean" (with the water turned off, mind you) my trashed apartment when you showed up to get the rest of your shit out of it was a waste of breath. The only thing I thought when I heard that was that you were entertaining the hope that I would put fuel in the tank, turn the water back on, and then LET YOU BACK IN "to clean". I strained something, internally, so that I wouldn't laugh in your face.
So, then, ex-tenant Amber. I know full well what kind of person you are. I know better than your co-workers, your kid's kindergarten teacher, your social worker, and your foster mother, the one who came with you to rent the apartment and acted all like it wasn't good enough for you because you weren't "that kind of person".
You are that kind of person. You are. And, oh, you'd hate this if you read it, but bitch? I knew you were like that kind of person when I rented to you in the first place.
(For our non-german-speaking friends, helpful and vivid translations of Rammstein lyrics are available here. They sing about some weird shit. To save you some time, the current tune is about, er, bending someone over to fuck 'em. I just like the way it sounds. Also, if I personally was a member of a german industrial metal band, I'd write a wholesome and sweet song about puppies or kittens or something... perhaps raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, even. And then I'd set it to a driving beat and sing it angry (like, say, Feuer frei!) because that would totally be just the funniest thing ever.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 03:56 am (UTC)But I'll deny knowing this if asked. :D
no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 06:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 11:54 am (UTC)Probably not.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 01:50 pm (UTC)gah! Must clean oven, but no time, no time...
no subject
Date: 2008-12-06 10:55 am (UTC)It takes some effort to shit an oven up that badly.
For comparison, I have lived in my house with my oven (which was brand new when I got it) for twelve years now. I moved in in December of 1996. I have never, ever cleaned the inside of my oven with oven cleaner and stuff. It is still cleaner than what I get from most of my tenants. I have no idea what the hell they *do* with their ovens, but they get them extremely cruddy.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 04:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 06:51 pm (UTC)