So many choices...
The girls who demanded I pay a share of the food even though I ate at the work canteen or the pub every meal? Nah.
The girl who used my dog's flea soap rather than pay for a cake of regular soap? Nah.
The guy who woke me up waving a running chainsaw at my face? Nah.
For my money it was the girlfriend of a housemate who moved in with us, made life shit in so many petty ways, then convinced him to move out.
I'd steadfastly refused to help him pack, confident it was a stupid move and he'd be back anyway but came back from the pub as they were about to leave.
Everything was boxed up in the truck, goodbyes were being said when she realised the CD currently playing on the stereo was "hers".
"Um... no, that's mine actually," I say.
"No it isn't, it's mine!" she insists, popping it out, putting it in the cover and jamming it into the last box.
"Actually, that is Difficultchild's", her embarrassed boyfriend explains, opening the box to take it back out.
"And... er... so is this one. And this one too. Um and this one."
"But I listen to them all the time!"
"Well that's fine, but they're not actually ours, so we can't take them."
She gets shitty, stamps her feet and glares at me as he starts removing selected CDs and handing them back.
Eventually there's a pile of about 30 cds in front of me when he says.
"Hang on, this is Difficultchild's book too..."
"But I love that book!"
"Yes, but it's not yours... maybe we should just have a quick look through the whole box and make sure there's nothing else that got accidentally mixed up."
And so began what turned out to be more than an hour of unpacking everything from the truck as every box revealed more of my stuff she had packed away because she either used it, liked it, wanted it etc.
I'm talking CDs (more than 100, I was reviewing them at the time and had stacks of the things) DVDs (at least 30), books (about 50), pots, pans, plates, kitchen knives, the blender, a pepper mill, herbs, spices, canned foods, blankets, towells, a skateboard, games, toys, my fucking guitar!!!, plants from the back yard, bottles of wine, stuff from the bathroom, stuff from the junk room (tools, power and otherwise) etc etc etc.
Basically if it wasn't in my locked room, she'd tried to take it.
He was mortified. She was ropable and kept saying "But I use that ALL THE TIME!!!" or something similar.
I was delighted.
The truck was a lot lighter as they left and in the next week I got another box of stuff back he'd found while unpacking.
Then I recovered some more while visiting.
It was all too much, they had a messy break up, he took everything that was his... actually that should read "he took everything" and moved back in.
Funnily enough I ran into her a couple of years later and she asked if I still had that book of hers she'd loaned me.
I laughed so hard beer came out my nose.
( difficultchild, Fri 27 Feb 2009, 2:00, 5 replies)

Guitar!!??
NEVER mess with a man's guitar!
(dchurch bah, Fri 27 Feb 2009, 7:15, closed)

So basically anything she had looked at was hers.
Daft bint.
( girlinthehole, Fri 27 Feb 2009, 10:40, closed)

Who the helll did she think she was??
Did she actually think "but I uuuuuuuse that all the time" is an adequate excuse?

effing moron.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Mon 2 Mar 2009, 5:01, closed)

unbelievable... apparently when she left home she took her mums car for the same reason...
Her name was Marianne something... if I ever remember it I'll post it some time.
The truly odd part was her boyfriend, who I went on to live with for another two or three years, was actually a great bloke. How they got mixed up was beyond me.
( difficultchild, Mon 2 Mar 2009, 6:03, closed)

Ropable means ...
Fit to be tied?
(ubergeekian, Thu 5 Mar 2009, 12:50, closed)