All not-so-good things must come to an end

So, The Loud Sex One finally decided to evict me. Again. About fucking time. He had been back from Thailand less than 10 days before we had a fight. Nice.

This one was about the rent increase from September (or was it November? Who knows!!!) that he failed to notify me about. I still have no idea how much money I was meant to have paid him. But being a girl with feely bits, I knew something was to happen so I'd spoken to the tenants union about it 4 days beforehand.

Turns out he's meant to give me 60 days written notice, and can't charge me for backpay. When I told him this on Tuesday night he went apeshit, and started accusing me of talking to people behind his back, plus a whole assortment of other bullshit. After 51 weeks of his crap, I refused to back down. He flips out. Here are some classic moments I thought you might like to share:

Loud Sex One: Fine, I'm sick of you anyway. If you're going to be like this you can leave.
Karen: Fine.
Loud Sex One: Good, you've got two weeks to move out.
Karen: Actually, according to the Residential Tenancies Act, you have to give me 60 days written notice
Loud Sex One: What? WHAT??!! No I do not!
Karen: Uhh, yes you do. If you don't believe me you can look it up. It's all on the internet.
Loud Sex One: Well I'm sure we can agree for you to leave in 2 weeks
Karen: What's that supposed to mean? It's up to me when I want to move out. How is it us agreeing on it? It's my decision, not yours.
Loud Sex One: *gives his ugly wrinkly face cocked eyebrow look* yeah well I'm sure the law says I only have to give you two weeks notice.
Karen: Yeah you might want to check that. BECAUSE IT DOESN'T.

I should probably point out that this was all happening the The Banana Grabbing One's bedroom. He laid on his futon the entire time with his pillow over his head.

Loud Sex One: *staring, attempting to be intimidating*
Karen: Well then I guess that's that then
Loud Sex One: *shrugs, still staring*
Karen: I suggest you look up the agreement tomorrow
Loud Sex One: *still staring*
Karen: (to the Banana Grabbing One) Hey thanks for the help with the maths question! (we were being mathletes previous to the fight)
Banana Grabbing One: ......... No..... problem.....
Karen: *turns back to Loud Sex One, who is still staring* Did you have anything else you wanted to say?
Loud Sex One: *makes gasping noises* Nope
Karen: Okay. Then why are you still staring at me?
Loud Sex One: *still staring* Because I'm waiting for you to leave
Karen: Well why can't you leave first?
Loud Sex One: *still staring* I don't know
Karen: Okay. *starts staring really hard at Loud Sex One* If you're going to be like that, we can leave together
Loud Sex One: Well I want to talk to The Banana Grabbing One anyway... *pulls gaze down to floor*
Karen: Good for you.

I wish I wrote down the crap he was saying in the argument because it was DUMB. Seriously, this guy has cat vomit for brain. Hell, not even that, because cat vomit is mildly interesting and mysterious and can come in a variety of different forms, colours and meats. No, his brain is gruel. The kind that Oliver Twist wants some more of. The lumpy, mouldy, useless kind that when you prod with a stick it doesn't even move.

Anyway, jump to Wednesday night. 11pm he shoves a notice of termination under my door, saying that I have breached agreement by not paying rent. Dumbass forgot to read up on Tenancy terminations. It's only rent arrears if he's properly given me notification for the increase IN THE FIRST PLACE, and he actually has to stick the notice in my hand, not under my door.

So the next day, with the help of the lovely tenant union ladies, I write up a letter explaining to him in stupid person speak why the termination is invalid, and all the steps he has to take to terminate my tenancy properly. I give it to him when he comes home, Thursday night. 5 minutes later he knocks on my door.

We fight some more about the rent increase, then he does this pathetic begging thing where he asks me to leave in 2 weeks time. I tell him it's not going to happen. He tries to intimidate me with all sorts of threats, including cancelling the lease, even though he doesn't realise he still has to give me 60 days and pay the rent until I vacate. I tell him he should look at the information in the letter I gave him. I notice that when he starts reading his hands are shaking, the letter is shaking.

I've got him scared. I've got him begging for me to give him some leniency. I am winning. This is good.

Since then he hasn't bothered to give me a new notice. I don't think he realises that if I outstay the 14 days notice, he can't apply for the tribunal because he didn't submit the termination properly. I was feeling a bit of pity towards him because he clearly has no idea what he is doing, until half an hour ago when The Banana Grabbing One informed me that The Loud Sex One is going to ban me from using his fridge. I told my dad and he said he was a childish little kid, which is amusing as he is 32.

What he has also forgotten is that I have a spare bar fridge at my parents place. I will dig so deeply into this house that he will need a crowbar to pry me out. The next step is arranging my bond to be repaid. This involves reporting him to the Office of Fair trading for not lodging it in the first place ($2,200 fine for not doing so within the first 7 days), and then taking a bazillion photos of the house to prove all damage was wear and tear.

I was talking to the Banana Grabbing One about whether this seems like a crazy revenge thing. but it's more than that. It's about proving a point and standing up for myself, and making it clear the The Loud Sex One that he can't treat people this way. Even though he is too stupid to realise why, it's the same way you punish a dog or a cat for jumping on things. They don't know why its wrong, but when you smack them for it they know not to do it again.

I do know that if he was nicer to me, and didn't blame me for everything going wrong (like him not bothering to read his bank statements is apparently my fault) then I wouldn't be going to these lengths. But I have had to put up with him being a cunt for a whole year now. 60 days of him having to deal with me living in the house is hardly punishment enough.

I calculate I'll be leaving in 45. This gives me time to spend with my family whilst saving money back at the homestead, and perhaps JUST enough time to process through the bond reclaiming process before I head down to Melbourne. I've got it all sorted. Now for it to play out.