The words you speak today...

...should be soft and tender, for tomorrow you may have to eat them.  This also applies to action...allow me to illustrate.

I moved to Surrey, British Columbia a few months ago.  Worst decision ever.  I moved in to the basement of a man whose two giant ill-treated, verbally abused, and neglected dogs barked night and all the live-long day.  They barked at me when I moved inside the 'apartment'.  They barked at passers-by.  They barked when their own owners came home then whined for hours til the assholes finally paid them the littlest bit of attention.  There was literally not a single iota of insulation between myself and the prick above.  I heard every tirade he went on about, every phone call, every fuck session(luckily he spared me these a mere few times a month).  His dogs ended up giving me fleas.  I paid my rent on time.  I was as quiet and respectful as I could be.  I gave him a months notice of my intent to vacate after only stomaching the place for 30 days.  So for an extra month I endured without complaint being uttered from my lips to his fucking ears.

Mercifully I found somewhere else, resigned my keys to the bastard with the hopes of seeing my damage deposit which he assured me would be coming my way after he viewed the place without my belongings.  I left that place spotless even after it took Jesse and I two days to get it to the point of being remotely livable.  A couple weeks went by and I called the son of a bitch.  No answer.  Left messages, texts, and called his wife.  Finally, anus tart responds via a text stating that he's sent the moola along with some mail of mine.  Perfect.  I can forget this terrible experience....put it all behind me and move the fuck on.  Two weeks go by, nothing.  So the calling and texting begin again, meanwhile me still giving super fuck the benefit of the doubt.  His wife answers eventually.  'Well Rhandi, if shitbird says he sent it then I don't see any reason why he wouldn't.  I'll talk to him.'  Next day rolls around and she frantically calls me exclaiming that the 'money was sitting in an envelope on their table and oh my god we are so sorry and we are going to courier it to you on Thursday!'  Well, that seemed believable so I wait....again.  Why would she go through the trouble of that ridiculous story and expressive telling of it if it weren't true?  Right?  RIGHT!?  No money comes.  So being the passive agitator that I am begin writing them letters.  Stern yet gently worded as to not offend.  I did my best to manipulate the tards.  To no avail.  They probably weren't read and if they were, not understood.

More than a month goes by like this and Jesse suggests we go over there and talk to fuckboat.  Totally.  That'll work.  He's a reasonable adult, this could totally work.  This should totally work.  I walk up to the landlord from hell and politely ask if we may have a brief friendly chat.  Instantly he appears irritable and responds rather aggressively.  Thinking I could calm the situation as Jesse remains off the property by his car, I proceed in my most calming yet assertive tone.  Motherfucker attempts to sick his dog on me who runs out the door with his tail between his legs, takes one look at me, and books it back inside.  Laughable really if I wasn't afraid of the rather large and angered man standing before me.  He threatens to throw 'shit water' on me, and calls me a liar all the while threatening me with his larger than life physical presence and booming voice.  Worst Landlord ever proceeds to call the cops on me for trespassing as I proceed to sit on his lawn in peaceful protest singing 'Give Peace a Chance.'  BastardDick screams and threatens and does all the things that a frightened animal would do in a situation where it feels cornered and incorrect yet unable to admit so.  He was in the wrong.  He was doing wrong.  He could have avoided all of this had he just returned money to me that was not in his rights to keep.  I could have also saved myself such trouble by letting it go.  I wanted to right this wrong.  Triumphant horns were sounding in my head on behalf of tenants everywhere for all of the misdeeds done to them by greedy landlord lizards.  My mistake.

My mistake big time.

He comes screaming out of his house, head butts Jesse in the mouth, screeching that he tripped.  I call 911.  This I do not take lightly.  We leave the property.  Cops come.  I feel stupid, ashamed that I let things get so far and so terrible that Jesse got hurt in my quest for satisfaction.  So, by law...i am forced to drop it.  Fine.  Whatever.  Ending in a terrible mess that I could have avoided by simply understanding that you can't reason with an animal who has something of yours.  Bullies survive on bullying, not by conceding by means of discourse and then snacking on milk and cookies.  Lesson learned.  But wait!  There's more.  Of course there is fucking more.

I recently got a new job.  They require a criminal record check before I can proceed with the company.  Cool.  No prob.  Sixty bucks!?  Ok.  The paperwork comes back to me and what do I see?  I have a 'negative history' with the RCMP.  Why?  I was trespassing on that piece of shit's property.  I was civil.  I sat on his lawn singing The Beatles but it was HIS lawn.  He called the cops, they recorded it and now my chances of keeping this job are slim.  I won't be able to volunteer at the animal shelter because no one will accept someone with a history such as mine.  So one lapse in judgement trying to do the moral thing and retrieve my fucking money from an evil, retarded man and I may never get to do the type of work I want.  Lesson learned kids;  Never try.  I believe in love and beauty and nurturing one another and the like.  I did nothing wrong to this man except confront him when he did me wrong and I am the one to be punished.  There are people who rape, maim, and litter.  Fuck I hate people who litter.  There are corrupt CEO's that have plunged our world into despair, disconnect and disarray but I can't volunteer to pet puppies because I amicably attempted to stand up for myself.  This world is super fucked.  I suppose I have no one to blame but myself.  Wonder if those CEO's have as much trouble sleeping as I do.



Post Script - Did you know that in Afghanistan their police force keeps twelve year old boys around their compounds to fuck?  It's common knowledge and practice.  I step on some dickholes lawn to talk to him and I get a criminal record.  Priorities people.  Guess if I'm labeled as such I should start diddling little dudes.  When in Afghanistan....