More Ways to Hate Your Landlord

Rot in hell.

Yes, you, landlord. Rot for eternity. With no sex, no guns, and no weed.

You are an ass. When I foolishly signed the lease, I truly believed that you would “fix the place up just fine.” Little did I know what that really meant from your diseased perspective. Listen, Mr. Colostomy Bag, a leaking shower and a sideways toilet do not count as home improvement. And laying uneven concrete pavement, while very nearly admirable, does not make the industrial savagery of the rest of the back yard look any better.

Yes, I admit that when it rains, I do get 3 or 4 “backyard pools” spread about the concrete. But so? Even your pet maggots wouldn’t swim in them.

And couldn’t you find somewhere else to store your warped, mildewy wood? Here’s a deal: I’ll help you cram the boards into any given two of your orifices. Your choice. Or how about your workshop? It’s not like you need room in there to do actual work. Hell, you might create more nooks & crannies in which to hide the FUCKING MARIJUANA you store in my laundry cabinet. Oh, by the way, that stuff is illegal. Get rid of it. AND STOP SMOKING IT IN THE SIDEYARD OF MY HOME. It’s my yard now, dungheap. Use your own.

Oh, that’s not feasible, you say? You mean you don’t want your suffering, sainted wife finding out how exactly you spend your (her) money while she actually works for a living, earning it? Tough shit. Those festering spawn you call your children are bound to stumble upon your 100% Columbian any day now. Especially since YOU LET THEM RUN AROUND MY FUCKING PLACE while I’m at work. Hell, they’ve probably discovered it by now anyway. It’s not like you’re conscious enough to watch over them while they sputter.

Are you a shitty father? Are you a shitty husband? Hell yes and fuck yes.

You say your wife doesn’t “understand” you. that she doesn’t satisfy your needs. Maybe it’s because she’s tired from making all the money your family needs to feed and clothe itself. Maybe it’s because she’s a grown-up. That happens to people when they become YOUR age, shit biscuit. They stop obsessing over childish things. Try it sometime – growing up. You won’t need to demolish the reality of your deeply rooted unworthiness any more. You won’t need to denigrate every one else’s accomplishments. You won’t need to toke up buds at gun shows to prove how “cool” you hope to someday be. You can [difficult concept] work all day. Making lamps out of rusty buckets and palm fronds. Oh, incidentally, that’s not considered art. Not when you do it. It’s considered tacky.

So your wife doesn’t understand you. Bullshit – she understands you all too well. God knows why she puts up with you. She makes all the money, for Christ’s sake. She holds all the adult social contacts. Maybe she sticks around for the kids. God, I hope so – I’d hate to see those two boys grow up thinking that you are the ideal human. Holy flea shit on rye. Pop quiz, why are you such a fuckhead?

Oh yeah. Even if your angelic wife DOESN’T satisfy your adolescent “needs,” that’s no reason you should hit on every woman that you meet. Some of those people are my friends, goddammit. They know you’re an asshole. The “Phrenology Towel” with all the naked women tacked to your wall may have tipped them off, you moron. Here’s a hint, bongo – my sister is married. She doesn’t want to see your “Nuts & Bolts.” And no, my lesbian friends are definitely NOT interested in a 3-way. They’re not into men, Sherlock. Neither are they into boys, so go fantasize about someone else – like that wrestling lady and the Olsen twins. Jerk. Redneck. Pede.

Listen, putz, you’ve got two things going for you: Jack and shit. And Jack left town. Here’s your rent check, you shitheel.

Dude, you have got to get that loser’s pot out of your house. If, god forbid, the police ever found it in your place, you’d be just as liable as he is! Of course, you know that, but, wow! That’s just scary.

On a different note, your landlord sounds something like my old next-door neighbor. Wife worked and went to school full time at night (getting her bachelor’s in psychology). Husband was supposed to be homeschooling the kids. Yeah. Right. In whose lifetime? I don’t remember seeing him in any other shoes than a pair of unlaced combat boots; scruffy t-shirt, never mowed their lawn (practically had to bale it when they did). Nice enough house but lack of care made it a huge effort to clean up when they wanted to sell it and move out of state for her schooling!

I’m getting ready to become a land lord myself. I’ve been reading this board for a year and I think I know what not to do. If you’re ever in Tucson, say hi. Otherwise, call a lawyer. NOW. Get out of your lease and fuck this guy.

Sue

Have you considered calling the police? I’m sure they’d take an interest…

I raise my fist in solidarity!

Sheesh, I thought my new age freak landlady who talks to her hand was bad. But this! This takes the cake.

I have to admit…I’d call the cops anonymously. It’s mean, it’s sneaky, it’s underhanded. It’s motivated by revenge. But I can’t help it. If I had a reason to call the police on my freak of a landlady, I’d do it in a minute.

-L

I wouldn’t let him hide his bud in your home. Mail it to me.

That’s mighty selfless of you, Badtz. :slight_smile:

I’m with SexyWriter (who I just knew would be lending the OP her support!), call the cops. Move his stash someplace where he will get the blame, like his back porch and dial away.

As much of a bastard as this guy seems to be, I’m kinda leery about recomending narcing on him. A good alternative would be to simply get rid of any drugs he hides in your home. You don’t HAVE to mail them to me (contact me via email to get my address), you could just flush them. That would piss him off mighty well, and who can he complain to?

Update: Yesterday, after school, I returned home to begin painting my back porch (Pothead Landlord won’t do it…). When I reached the laundry cabinet, I discovered, to my extreme pleasure, that the “oregano” had vanished. Maybe the guy reads the SDMB (or has it read to him). I doubt it. Could he be…paranoid?

Or did Badtz Maru provide a service? Thanks! Now there’s no need to narc on the guy. That was a last resort anyway.

My mother’s coming to visit for Easter. Should I advise her to bring pepper spray?

SueFriendly, on behalf of tenants everywhere, I applaud your year-long research method. “Landlords and Ladies: Don’t Do This” sounds like a winner book idea.

SexyWriter, your nosy “talk-to-the-hand” landlady may still take the Hellaciously Bad Landlord prize. At least my lunatic doesn’t call the police on me.

Hmm…I don’t know. I think you’ve got a much more irritating lunatic on your hands. Perhaps we should lock them in a room together and see what happens?

I’m not trying to find a new place. Ack.

-L

Jeez. That was suppposed to say I’m NOW trying to find a new place.

Oh, God, no! What if they reproduce!?? The horror!

This guy would be all over that oppourtunity. They could share “drive our tenants crazy” tricks – “Okay, I’ll talk to my droopy and you pay less attention to the rental. Wanna do it?”

Hey, wait a second. That might work.