I just had a half hour long angry raised voices exchange with my landlord who, as he put it, "has mad" about the sidewalk chalk we drew on the public sidewalk outside of our building. An in- depth explanation of the ephemeral nature of sidewalk chalk did not calm his litany of complaints with said popsicles and sunshines on the ground which included his concern that neighbours would complain, potential tenants would refuse to rent from such an establishment, and it would lead to posters. I don't know what posters, or the link between chalk and posters, but alas, posters. If what he was after was a confrontation then he came to the right place because I am hungover and naturally bitchy. I am also underemployed and am looking forward to the sweet feeling of accoomplishment as I spend my day filing a complain with the regie du logement. Nothing like a little paperwork and beurocracacy to give meaning to my life. I'm going to make a sequel of that movie You Got Served all over his ass and it's going to be called You Got Served 2: Exercising a Recourse in Defence of Tenants Rights. Beeeyotch.