I'm like the Charlie Sheen of the blogging world. Out of nowhere, in your face, with a big ass rant. Except my rant isn't about million dollar contracts or the producer of my television show. So really, I can't be Charlie Sheen. Plus, I'd use the word "winning" but if I use it in a Charlie Sheen-esque context I'm pretty sure he'd send me a bill for at least $17. That and the only one "winning" around here is my damn landlord.
(Here comes the rant...)
I knew she was flaky. I knew she was flaky the first time I met her. Flaky and unstable. But when she called yesterday to give us the news that we need to move, pretty much, right now, I had no idea she was a lunatic, too. She said, and I quote, "I have to give you a 30-day notice because [insert fiancee's name] gave me a 30-day notice." She followed that up with, "I waited as long as I could to tell you."
I waited as long as I could to tell you?! How is that helpful? If you're going to kick us out, damn it, a little advance notice is appreciated. And so it begins. We're now in search of a place to live, ASAP. Did we have any intention of moving prior to her notice? Nope. Are we at all prepared to move? Nope. Do we even have any idea where to look? Nope.
Awesome. This is not winning, right here.