Picking up where we left off from Barrieland: The Lost Files (Part 9).
Disclaimer: This is Part 9 in a Series. Please read the Full Disclosure Disclaimer on Part 1 before proceeding.
And then, if you haven’t read them yet, please read the previous posts before continuing to gain full context:
- Barrieland: The Complete Story (Part 1)
- Barrieland: Moving In (Part 2)
- Barrieland: Meet the Neighbours (Part 3)
- Barrieland: Ghosts, Ghouls & Other Things (Part 4)
- Barrieland: Home Alone (Part 5)
- Barrieland: Am I Losing It? (Part 6)
- Barrieland: Hello, I’d Like to Speak to a Medical Professional? (Part 7)
- Barrieland: Well Now That Doesn’t Look Right (Part 8)
- Barrieland: The Lost Files (Part 9)
- Barrieland: I Think It’s Time To Leave (Part 10); You are here.
We’re taking a bit of a step back now to go back to the whole; my former-landlord, former-friend of 15 or so years, called the cops on me for reasons I still don’t wholly understand and then a short while after I ended up taking a visit to the Barrie Royal Victoria Hospital which is attached to Georgian College. You can read about all that in Barrieland Part 7: Hello I’d Like To Speak To A Medical Professional
Welcome to Dorset
With everything getting as crazy as it was in Barrieland, I knew Dakota and I needed to take off for a few days so that I could get the time and space I really needed to think things through.
The issue was that while dealing with all the insanity that is Barrieland as a whole, I was also dealing very much with my employer OsgoodePD – York University who were making it entirely too clear they were trying to force me to quit my job (they eventually succeeded).
I in no way wanted to quit my job. I’ve had many jobs over the years and the one benefit to a place like OsgoodePD is that you’re part of a union, and specifically, with my job title, it’s very hard for them to fire me, especially with my otherwise utterly flawless track record. And we were in the midst of a global pandemic where jobs are scarce, and I was living alone and going through a divorce; all details I explained to my then-manager at various stages.
But despite that they kept pulling me into nonsensical union meetings, not explaining exactly what they were looking for other than the fact that they didn’t like the content of some of my tweets where I directly and purposefully was tagging York University. I started to feel like they were harassing me. The thing about it though, was when they then quoted tweets at me in our meetings, they didn’t mention a single one of these. They only mentioned ones where I was talking about musicians and other totally unrelated subjects.
I explained to OsgoodePD repeatedly that I was in an unsafe living situation and that the people who lived above me could hear these conversations we were having, but they never really asked me what I meant about that which I suspect is because they in no way believed me.
This is largely why I began sharing these stories with you on this website; they may not have believed me, but it really fucking happened and I refuse to stay silent after the disgraceful mistreatment my former employers laid upon me during this incredibly difficult experience. But I’ll talk about that greater detail in a later post, a stand-alone post because that in itself was a “saga”. I mention it now because it’s about to come up again as part of this series and why I was doing the things I was doing at the time.
Can you come get me and Dakota?
Around July 1st, I paid one last visit to my friend Dominik’s grave because I knew I’d be leaving Barrie soon and I wanted to say goodbye to him (or rather, see ya later).
When I visited on Canada Day I left Dominik 3 items, even though I know full well he didn’t need any more decorations/gifts on his grave.
Since it was Canada Day, though, I left him a little Beaver bobble head; I had bought 2 of these when I worked at Bass Pro Shops Canada as a teenager and kept 1 for myself, the other I gave to a friend.
Again, I didn’t know when I might be back to Barrieland, so this was my way of sort of saying see ya to Dom; as I’ve mentioned previously I still harbour a lot of guilt and shame over not attending his funeral.
I also left him a little turtle that I had gotten on a trip to Mexico. Souvenirs from trips are all well and good but, because I had seen that rock painting in the woods behind my house with the two turtles at the beach, I felt like I wanted to leave that for him, too.
And finally, I left him a blue guitar pick that said “Classic” on it, because Dom was such a classic stand-up guy in all the years I knew him.
I’ve said it before but one of the things I always loved about Dominik was how he was able to make anyone feel comfortable and welcomed and it’s something I try to do for other people too, although no one can draw a crowd to a condo like Dom could.
This was another hard day for me, and really any time I think about Dominik is still emotionally very difficult for me. I’m still just really torn up about the way he died so senselessly, and how long it took Barrie police to find the person who killed him. Not saying that’s their fault or that they did a bad job or anything like that, just that it still boggles me it took 9 whole months, but the person sped off and I imagine there were no witnesses to this so it was no doubt a difficult investigation.
I spent a lot of time in Barrie just walking around, and every time I did I’d take note of how few sidewalks are in that town, even right on main road by houses where kids play all the time. It’s an accident waiting to happen, just like it happened to him.
I’d tweet about this at length, tagging the city of Barrie and any local news station I could think of at the time.
Less signs more sidewalks! pic.twitter.com/VcQYaUjWYo— Crooked Forest 🌲Le Édition: Canadienne 🇨🇦 (@crooked_forest) May 21, 2021
And I continue to do this now in Vaughan, too.
Cities in the GTA are “improving” infrastructure at a pretty fast pace, but they seem to neglecting basic and obvious pedestrian needs like this, which is why I wanted to mention it again here now before proceeding, and in the meantime, if you’re walking around your city or town, be sure to keep a keen eye on the vehicles around you and stay as safe as possible by putting as much distance between yourself and the road as you can.
For about a week while I was reaching out to people in my family to come get me and bring Dakota and I to the cottage, we were having some difficulty because of course, people have lives and jobs, and because of me not wanting to have the upstairs neighbours overhead my conversations, I was careful about how much information I gave them, so I don’t think they understood the gravity of the situation of the time.
Nonetheless, eventually we were able to make our escape to Muskoka when my sister picked us up one weeknight.
My family bought their Muskoka cottage when I was literally in my mother’s womb, so I’ve spent a considerable amount of time in this small Ontario town. For reference, it’s about 30 minutes south of Huntsville, Ontario.
In recent years I haven’t spent a lot of time up here though, for various reasons, this cottage which was at one time a safe haven for me where I learned to fish, tube, wakeboard, and other fun cottage stuff, became a place that I just couldn’t enjoy.
The thing about going to the same places all the time is that you end up having a bunch of different experiences there and not all of them are positive. And if you’re someone like me, sometimes they’re too difficult to think about.
And as much as I love my sister, at times she can be more than a little overbearing.
I was already tired of having food forced upon me in Barrie and the way my sister eats is in no way complimentary to the way I eat, so I’d take some walks and runs by myself to clear my head, and in one instance, go into town to pick up some deli meats, cheese and bread so that I could make myself some sandwiches while I was there.
As I said I haven’t been up to Dorset much in recent years, so there were a few things that were brand new to me when I made my way into town.
I’ll start off with sharing a couple photos of the town and some of its buildings, a lot of these are still the same as when I was little and they give the town it’s distinct small town Ontario look.
But here’s some of the interesting new stuff I came across one afternoon:
Within Zach Cole trail, which is sort of hidden and adjacent to the main part of Dorset, across from the Robinson’s General Store (one of Canada’s most renowned General Stores if you’re to believe the highway signage), there’s some other cool stuff about Dorset and the early settlers there, too.
What can I say, I like trees.
And here’s some cooler stuff about the Indigenous people of Dorset that I found near the old Yogurt shop.
In case you can’t read the text on these photos, here’s what it says in English (the sign on the left is in the native tongue).
The Anishinaabeg At Lake ofBays
A water-based people, the Anishinaabeg – the original people of this region – were a hunter-gatherer society that often travelled here to the narrows at Trading Bay (Lake of Bays). The area that is now Dorset was a special, spiritual place abundant in natural resources. For thousands of years the Anishinaabeg set up small camps here harvesting maple syrup and birch bark, fishing and trading in the spring and summer and hunting and trapping during the fall and winter. Eventually, the Anishinaabeg realized that their hunting and harvesting rights and territory had been lost through a series of treaties. They continues to travel to the region to work as fishing and hutning guises and trading with seasonal tourists and cottagers. The descendants of the Anishinaabeg are members of the seven First Nations of the Williams Treaties (1923), the nearest of which is the Chippewas of Rama First Nation. The legacy of the original inhabitants lives on through the many landmarks, rivers, lakes and islands that bear Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe) place names.
And here’s what is says in the native tongue, for those who love to learn about languages and because I feel like it’s important to share it.
Nibi gaa debwendimowaad giw Anishinaabeg ntam maa gaa yaajig. Moozhag gii baamaadiziwag di meshkwadoon ge giibi zhaawag iw Muskoka ziibii. Gii gchi taamgqwendaagwat ki, ge niibwa giigoonyag, wesiinyag, miinwaa mishkikii. Anishinaabeg gii zhitoonaawaa yeshmoongamig ji zagaknamwaad gaa maawndomowaad. Mnookmig ge niibing gii giigoonkewag ge gii meshdoonmaadiwag. Dgwaagi ge bboong gii ndawenjigewag ge gii ziisbaakdokewag. Pii iw shkodedaaban gii zhitoowaad widi giw Anishinaabeg. Pii iw mzinigan gii bi yaamigak mii dash pii kina gaa nitooying, pkaan gii nistitoonaawaa. Geyaabi gii zhaawag giw Anishinaabeg ji nookiiwaad ji kinoomawaad nake gezhi giigoonkewaad ge ji ndawenjigewaad. Miinwaa ji meshdoonmawaawaad giw e baa gnawaabijigewaas ge giw niibing eh ndaajig bizhaawaad. Geyaabi gdaa waabindaan gaa zhinkaadmowaad iw aki, ge ziibiiganan ge mnisan.
This little Lions Club bridge I posted above here leads into that same trail I noted from the other side. And on this side where I took the photo, you’re actually standing in front of Barrie’s local volunteer police department shack.
There happened to be a medic truck here while I took this photo which is something you virtually never see here, which means something not great happened in Dorset around this time; hopefully everything was okay.
In the little box on the left of this… structure (Dorset is a very small town, people, I mean no disrespect), there is some interesting information.
I haven’t spent much time at the Centennial Park here but I have played hockey on the skating rink in the winter time. There happened to be a turkey milling about it on this day and I tried to snap a pic but it was a little too far to get a good one.
Here’s a better snap of the rink, which, clearly they don’t maintain in the summer time here.
I mentioned before that I gave Dominik my Beaver bobble head, but that I had two. The other I gave to my friend Houston.
Houston’s family has a cottage up in Dorset, too, and for a while he actually dated my sister which is how I became friends with him. His cottage was winterized so while they were dating, one winter he invited us up to hang out for the weekend and we (us and a bunch of Houston’s friends) went to play hockey on this rink. It was a great time; Houston slapped a puck that nailed me right in the chest which was less fun (no equipment in Canadian shinny), but a total drunken hockey accident; We played on.
I used to have a photo of Houston and I passed out on a couch at his buddy’s cottage, each of us on either end of the couch; We had stayed up drinking late one night talking about my sister because they had gotten into a fight. And largely the reason I stopped talking to Houston back then was because my sister told me not to after they broke up and she said I got too involved in the break-up.
The mini story there is that, because Houston and I had become good friends (as well as any two people with our age gap could then), we’d text here and there.
I liked hanging out at Houston’s cottage a lot when I was younger, specifically when something within my own family was bugging me. It was a safe place for me, and I trusted him and his friends and enjoyed talking with them. They’re pretty interesting people and they always took good care of me.
When he and my sister broke up, Houston had left some clothes at our house and my sister was, to the best of my recollection of the events, making it difficult for him to retrieve them. This went on for a while before Houston just asked me if I could get it for him, and I handed off the bag to him in my parents driveway. This was also when I gave him the beaver bobble head, and this was the most I knew about their breakup at the time.
My sister was pissed when she found out. She called me a bitch and told me I got too involved and then didn’t talk to me for weeks. This tore me up because for a long time I felt like my sister understood me a little better than the rest of my family, and she’d never called me a bitch before in my entire life, in fact no one up until this point had ever said that to me. It hurt.
When I was up at the cottage this weekend, Houston happened to be up to with a couple of his new friends I’d never met before. My sister kept bringing him up in conversation randomly so I was forced to talk about him.
She had told me a story previously about a situation that happened last summer (or earlier this year? Who can keep track), where a friend of Houston’s who I knew “back then” was so drunk he lost it on my sister, said some pretty nasty stuff to her, and Houston, according to my sister, didn’t do much to stop him.
This seemed out of character for the Houston I knew, but I wasn’t surprised that his friend might have said what he did or that Houston might not have intervened while he himself was apparently also drinking.
Nonetheless, despite all my frustrations with my sister, this was no way to speak to anybody. And even though my sister had told me they in some way resolved this issue, I still wanted to talk to Houston about it.
When I’d later run by his place, he wasn’t outside, or I just didn’t recognize him (its been that long), but I did catch him driving up the road when I made my way back. I stopped to double check it was him, which is was, but he kept driving, so I never got a chance to talk to him.
I explained all of this to my sister when I got back to the cottage, realizing that I didn’t want to start yet another issue.
I told her I was thinking about that fight she told me about and that I wanted to talk to Houston to explain that it wasn’t right, and that I felt his friend should apologize to her no matter how drunk he was or whatever excuse they had made for his behaviour that day. And I wanted to tell Houston if he wasn’t trying to get back together with my sister in a serious way, he needed to stop jerking her around, because my sister still very much cares for him and in a lot of ways, has expressed things that suggest she still wants to be with him after all these years.
My sister spent a lot of time bringing up odd things to me. Like asking me if I’d ever been drugged before while we casually sat on the dock on the day the above photo was taken. We don’t really talk that often about anything other than her work, so this was out of character for her.
I don’t mind talking about that stuff necessarily but it seemed especially odd timing with everything going on in Barrie.
But I’m an honest girl so I told her a little bit about a prior experience I’d had, vaguely.
Needless to say, her choices of conversation were so odd to me that I ended up taking a few more walks by myself & with Dakota. Like I said, I used to enjoy my families cottage but I just can’t anymore with them up there with me, they bring up some weird stuff and it ruins the whole beautiful vibe for me.
On my trip into Dorset to get my deli meats and cheese and snap all those photos from earlier, I also noted how much trash was all over the highway, and some of it pretty bad stuff to keep around for animals, like things they could get trapped in, or if they ingested would definitely kill them.
I found a big plastic bag on the road so I started collecting trash one morning, trash that included some broken bottles and glass which later started to tear the bag so I had to stop a little early and try to find a trash receptacle to put it all in.
In all my years in coming to Dorset, I’ve not once picked up trash from the highway.
Doing a little highway cleanup this morning. Please remember to pick up your trash, especially broken bottles, if you are out enjoying the muskoka air today. Thanks #dorset! #reducereuserecycle #cleanup #keepitgreen #muskoka pic.twitter.com/YjnxSebncx— Crooked Forest 🌲Le Édition: Canadienne 🇨🇦 (@crooked_forest) July 5, 2021
I tweeted about this, to try and encourage other cottagers to take better care of the Muskoka’s, not to show off or something. Like I said, been coming up here for now 31 years, frankly it feels really shitty to know I haven’t done more in the past.
This volunteer work would later be the straw that broke the camels back for me as it pertained to my employment at Osgoode Professional Development – York University and the reason I ultimately quit my job even though I knew that’s what they wanted me to do and I wanted so badly to keep fighting it.
On the Sunday (if I recall correctly) I got a call from another unknown number (something that at this point was putting me severely on edge); I checked my voicemail and it was someone from the YUSAPUY Union. I found it odd they’d be calling me on a weekend, but I suspected they knew I had gone up north and were reading my twitter page, so I called them back.
On the phone they asked me where I was, which again, a little odd. I explained that again, due to the unsafe living situation I was in, I had to quickly leave my house and went to my family’s cottage. I also explained that the plan was to have me home first thing Monday morning (which is true) but that I wasn’t the principal driver (I still don’t have a car, folks!) so that I might not necessarily be in “the office” right away.
I was trying to be as fourth-right as possible but I was agitated because I had already explained a lot of this to the union in our meetings already; I now suspect all of these people are deaf, blind, and dumb.
I’ll get into how that all ended on another post about York University and their idiocy.
The other person who was contacting me while I was up north? None other than Skippy, and it was clear he wasn’t doing well.
So, this message came through to me after my sister was oddly asking me if I had ever been drugged before; something that had come up while I was speaking to those Barrie medical professionals I told you all about before and was the reason they wanted to take me to the Royal Victoria Hospital where I never received any treatment and clearly, didn’t need to actually be there.
So it was extra odd to me where Mark then began this long text message stating that he was concerned about me when it had been clear to me for weeks now he was the one that should be concerned, about himself frankly.
He then goes to to express that he’s been a great friend to me for some reason, which frankly, he never has been that great of a friend. Mark has always been a fair-weather friend and anyone that knows us would very much back me up on this; but I don’t want to get much farther into that because again, I am actually genuinely concerned that he is in fact, not well, as he keeps claiming I am. But I am going to share these messages because it’s really important to me that people understand all the pressure I was under during these last couple weeks in Barrieland.
He says he dropped his exam for me as if I should be ever so grateful for this, even though I never in any way expressed I needed him to drop anything for me, in fact, I kept checking in with him and how he was doing with school and wishing him the best of luck of his exams. But also, he had told me weeks earlier that he had decided to defer the year to focus on himself, so which story should I have believed then?
I thought that was a good call for him, taking the year off; Dude takes on a lot and seemed really stressed out, which was normal for him (in my experience as his friend of 15+ years).
It’s really important for my to address this next part of his text where he claims he and I would talk on the phone all the time and I would tell him I hated home because he is flat out lying about that or at bare minimum exaggerating our relationship for some reason.
If Mark knew me as well as he claims here, he’d be well aware I’ve never been the type of person who enjoys speaking on the phone and in fact, generally if I was on the phone with him it was because he was driving across Canada and Mark can barely stand to be by himself so he spends a significant amount of his driving time on the phone. Talking about himself, generally.
And even with offering me the apartment, I never said I hated home, I just said I was having a difficult time because, as I’m sure anyone can understand, it’s a huge bummer moving home at 30 years old when you’ve spent the last 7-ish years living outside of it. I absolutely never said it was terrible or awful, I just knew I was eager to get my life back on the track I had been leading it. In fact, I’ve always been incredibly appreciative of the fact that my parents offer this to my siblings and I; for all they do “wrong”, there’s a lot they do right, like making sure we have some sort of roof over our heads.
And then he says he cares about me like a sister which is outright laughable because as I’ve said before, if the way Mark was treating me all this years is how he’d treat his own sister, than Jesus Christ thank God he never had one.
And then he expresses that I’ve said hurtful things about him on Twitter, so now for the first time I know he’s seen some of my tweets.
He’s not entirely wrong, I can definitely see and appreciate how these things can be hurtful. At that same token, might I remind readers that I was explaining to him the people above me, who live in the house he owns, were actively threatening me and abusing their children and he, a former police officer, was doing fuck-all about it? I had reached my breaking point by then for sure.
Not to be a dick but I keep my text messages with people like this for the simple reason that, people like Skippy are chronic liars and manipulators. But I’m hard to manipulate these days, thanks to maintaining my sobriety and distance from those who I know manipulate.
So he says again in this long text message (it’s the same message), that he “doesn’t need added crap in his life” again as though I’ve somehow been inconveniencing him for…. not responding to his texts?
Wow, how rude of me, on my cottage getaway, to be a little too busy to cater to him.
So then he’s still upset about this, me ignoring him, and says these things which I’m going to clear up super clearly for all of you right now and preface this by saying, this dude is such a liar it makes me sick.
Skippy: I know you told me things about you possibly quitting work.
Me: People have always known it was never my intent to stay at OsgoodePD, but I would never quit without another job lined up; I have always done this and if anyone wants to question me on it, feel free to access my CRA statements that show how many of my jobs overlap, often for several months. Saying “I wanna quit” shouldn’t be inferred as anything other than that; and how many people have ever said this about their jobs and then stayed in them for eternity?
Skippy: You talked about renting a car.
Me: This was AFTER Skippy already said I could not defer rent and I paid him promptly. You can check my bank statement on this one (thanks Motusbank!). I shared these texts with you already previously.
Skippy: We were all afraid where you were going to go.
Me: Who’s “We”? Nobody has mentioned any of this to me. And I wanted to rent a car to move my items out of my Barrie house into my Vaughan home, Skipper, you know, because of the unsafe situation I was in?
Skippy: Don’t truly know if you’ve quit your job or not.
Me: Not at all sure why you’re repeating this or think I would have done this at all. Have I mentioned this day was the same day the woman from the Union called me asking me where I was? I would however quit my job this same week, on July 9th if the paperwork is correct; I have a registered letter saying so.
Skippy: Anyways I’m returning your rent money because I’m just a rich boy.
He did. And then I gave it back to him, confused about this and not needing the headache of him trying to come after me for it (which he later literally did try to come after me for; must be tough keeping track of tenants rents when you have 4 rental property’s).
Skippy: I’ll just pay the mortgage for my house using my student loans.
Me: No comment, the government can verify where his student loans went, that’s not for me to say, I guess.
He continues on about me being mentally unwell even though I’ve been totally “well”, as well as anyone can be given all the stuff I was personally dealing with of course, and while some of my tweet-fests may have at times appeared “erratic”, I’m actually just that fast of a writer, dude and dudettes; I’m proud of this fact.
I can appreciate how he, or anyone I’ve named, might be upset with some of the things I’ve said online while working on my Crooked Forest art project, but then again, none of these people ever approached me for explanation, which to me is a damn shame because the premise of this entire project is to bring awareness to social issues and the mental health support people in all of our communities need, and clearly, it was to the detriment of many of my oldest friendships and my job.
Skippy also says I scared the crap out of him and many people, but that’s not been my intent nor am I at all sure what he means by that here. Again, this is why I’m sharing these messages. These are not doctored. These are real messages. I take full ownership over the things I say and I maintain, I am not in any way unwell or suicidal and nothing I’ve said should really suggest so I think a lot of people forget that human beings have a tendency to project their own views of themselves onto others, and they don’t realize when they themselves have gone too far.
Like with all the women in my life trying to shove food down my throat even though I’m a perfectly healthy weight, thank you very much.
If my friends and family were ever truly concerned about me, they would have spoken to me about it like adults. They never did. Not one of them.
And that’s how I know who my real friends are; I have none, just Dakota.
And up above you can see my very calm response to Skippy’s odd message. I didn’t feel comfortable talking with him at this stage because of his behaviour, and because I’m not a medical professional it really felt out of my scope at this stage.
I also expressed that given what I then viewed as his own mental health crisis, I didn’t believe he was in any position to be speaking to me about these things. The reality is, again, Skippy and I have never been “close” friends; again he left for university right after high school and I myself only spent about 3 years in the same high school as him. We were friends, not best friends, there is a ton about my life I have never spoken to anybody about, and I surely wouldn’t have started with this guy.
You can debate among yourself if you think the way Skippy has spoken to me in these texts has been with kindness and respect, I’m not going to bother talking about that.
And I don’t know what the hell this guy thinks weed does to people but it’s actually a very useful medical plant and people don’t generally suffer “withdrawal” from it; I feel like he talks about weed like it’s heroin and it’s just not. Do some research, Bucko.
Skippy: I’m also not home yet.
Me: Okay? Not sure why he said this, except for the fact that he kept changing his tune about when he was home and not home and it is impossible to keep up with someone like Skippy who travels back and fourth from provinces with such regularity.
Then he asks me for my last month’s rent again which I already sent him.
Then he says: Guess I’ll be a horrible psychiatrist.
And this one is really, really important, because again, Skippy has spent the last year or so, or at bare minimum since July 2020 telling me he was going to specialize in anaesthesiology.
In fact in literally absolutely no point of knowing this boy for 15+ years has he EVER expressed he wanted to become a psychiatrist.
He had told me he HAS one that prescribes me medication, but never that he wanted to be one.
So I knew I needed to end this conversation because this dude, whoever he was now, was not the same kid I met in 9th grade. And I hope to God he wasn’t actually trying to become a psychiatrist because that would be a terrible call for the Canadian medical community, in my uneducated opinion.
So you can see my response above where I calmly explain I’m out to dinner with my sister (which I was) and that because at this point I very much felt he was harassing me, I told him I would be shutting off my phone (which I did).
When I eventually turned it back on, I had a whole other series of messages because Skippy was still upset with me.
So much for a relaxing getaway.
I’m not entirely sure why these screenshots pulled in this way, because to me it looks like either he repeated the message twice and added more on another date or these are in some way manipulated and to be clear I don’t manipulate my text messages in any way.
He’s obviously still super upset with me and I think these messages speak for themselves. If I was such a terrible friend I’m not sure why he was friends with me at all or like, joined me on my family’s vacation to Cuba (took his own flight, sort of invited himself on the trip) and invited me multiple times to visit him in Montreal, but I digress.
So as I said I don’t manipulate my texts but I have added some barring here to remove Skippy’s provided address.
I want to also mention here that he was already trying to manipulate me further, lying about the law as it pertains to a tenant who, he never had sign a contract. I’d later talk about this ins a tweet on move-out day because I had had more than enough of Skippy’s antics.
It’s possible he’s right that a “verbal” agreement or our “text exchanges” provide him with some leeway here, but the fact of the matter is Skippy asked me to move into this place and asked me not to change my address and to pay him discreetly under the table, all of these things are at bare minimum suspicious and at most, illegal.
And again, as I said, he did re-send me my rent money back, which made no sense to me at all.
I would later send him more money for the remainder of July (half rent, since I moved out mid-July after being, as I say, forced to quit from OsgoodePD on July 9th 2021.
I stopped responding to Skippy almost entirely after this. You can see above he was trying to “use the law on me” and again, I never signed a contract and given the suspected coercion he used to get me to live in this terrible house with all of these awful things happening, and then not helping me when I genuinely reached out to him, not for my mental health but for the suspected child abuse and the suspected break-ins, he continues to talk to me in this manner.
Some friend, right? Like a sister, right Skippy?
Coming up next, I reach my breaking point with OsgoodePD – York University and I make final arrangements the get the hell out of Barrieland for good.
Word to the wise, I’ve already spoken about like, all of this at length on my Twitter page, so feel free to doing some scrolling around to get the “inside scoop” before I let it out into the world in a nice clean blog format like the one you’ve been enjoying so far.
‘Til next time! Stay safe and keep an eye on your mentally unwell friends, family and neighbours!
Not ready to leave yet? How about some original CF tunes before you hit the trail?