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.