Make your mind up
I'm in kind of a competitive line of business, on the fringes of legality, where occasional collaborations for mutual benefit can be useful, but they rarely last long. But this one guy just took the piss.

A few years back me and this tall guy hooked together and worked a few scams. It was great - we made a mint, nobody really got hurt - the perfect score.

After a couple of iterations, the money coming in levelled off a bit, and what does the glinty-eyed git do? He leaves me high and dry, without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, blaming me for the lack of contiued growth in our little "business opportunity". He even kicked me out of my seat in the middle of fuckling nowhere and left me to walk home, the tossbag. Understandably I was a bit pissed off, and when I finally managed to cobble together enough of a crew to go after the shifty bugger, and caught up with him, he only slips my well-planned trap at the last second and buggers off again.

"Right", I says to myself, "right! We'll 'ave the bastard this time!", so I do my best to find him again and wreak my terrible revenge, but once I do manage to put him in a hot spot, he only goes and pulls out the possibility of the biggest payday either of us has ever seen out of thin air. I'm no fool, so I mend fences, take him to my brother's gaff to get him patched up, and we go off together to find out own little pot of gold.

What we don't know is that an even bigger bastard also has his sights on the same prize, so we then spend a lot of time an energy trying to give this new twunt the slip. I have to admit, for quite a while me and the skinny fuck made a pretty good team, and I thought we were going to end up firm friends.

All the way to the point where we have the money in our hands, that is. At that point, the blond cunt turns on me again, points his gun in my face, sticks my head in a noose then runs off. Again.

Bastard. I'll get him one day.

Tuco
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 16:38, 2 replies)

Neil Buchanan
He led me to believe that I could make a fish tank, out of a box of cornflakes.

Could I fuck.
(Tangerine_Avenger, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 16:31, 1 reply)

Not really a nemesis as such
...he was a violent thug at my school and a couple of times I’d been on the receiving end of his fists of fury.

Anyway, do some wavy lines for about 20 years.

I’m visiting my home town, getting a taxi from the station and it’s him driving me. He recognised me first and we had a little chat. Things hadn’t worked out well for him. Divorced, didn’t see his kids, had suffered a chemical poisoning from not wearing the right protective gear while spraying cars so his liver was fucked. And now he was scraping a living on the taxis. At the end of the journey I wished him well, give him a two pound tip and felt bloody ticketyboo for the rest of the day.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Fri 30 Apr 2010, 16:28, 3 replies)

CB
There was a production manager. Fortunately not my manager but he was in a position to make things awkward for me occasionally, and seemed to enjoy doing so.

The silly bastard always was too stupid to realise that I was actually in a position to be even more awkward to him, but there you go - you can't expect reason from morons.

Anyway, CB's main sidekick fucked up one day. Fucked up big time and it wasn't the first time he'd made that fuckup either. To cover the fact, they decided to blame it all on the operator who'd pointed out the fuckup, told me about it and worked hard to resolve it before it caused a real problem. CB decided to sack him for it.

I wasn't having that. I made sure I told lots of people how observant and diligent this particular operator had been and suggested they nominate him through the company recognition scheme.

The time came when CB was insisting to HR that he was going to discipline and then sack this operator for gross negligence - only to be told that he couldn't as the guy had received more nominations for the employee recognition scheme than anybody ever had done.

So not only could CB not sack or even discipline the guy, he had to have his photo taken for the company magazine, shaking hands with the operator while telling everyone what a credit to the company this operator was and awarding him with a certificate, a bottle of wine and a gift voucher.
( Afinkawan Yes I can hear you Clem Fandango, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 15:54, Reply)

The Devil cat
In our little ground floor flat in Earslfield, Mrs. Nimrodihnio and I were given two kittens as a wedding present, as you would imagine these delightful little fluffy bundles of filled us with love and affection.
About three months after we got them, Mrs. Nimrodihnio opened the curtains and jumped back in shock as there was a thin, almost alien like looking Siamese cat on the window ledge staring in. After much shooing it sauntered away stopping for a little backward glance before disappearing.

This started to happen on a regular basis and would catch it staring through the window at our kittens indoors.
Mrs N grew to get really freaked by this cat as she would suddenly see it staring at her from some vantage point overlooking the back garden, I just told her she was being paranoid.

Time came to let Cosmo and Harley out and I put a cat flap in the back door and gradually allowed them out. Very shortly they would come running through the cat flap stopped and do the arched back and big tail hissing at something outside. I could never get to the back door in time to see what was spooking them but had a pretty good idea.

We started to hear cat fights and finally saw that the Siamese that was stalking us was responsible, we had months of this with them coming in after being ambushed and being scared to venture out the back door in fear of being jumped.
It came to a head one morning when Harley was caught halfway through the cat flap and was screaming. When I got to the back door and opened it with her still stuck, the ‘devil cat’, as it was now known, ran off. There was blood everywhere as it had ripped a large gash in Harley back leg. I wrapped her in a towel and ran to the vet in Tooting where they sedated and stitched her. If I hadn’t been there the vet told me, she would have bled to death.
The experience changed Harley into a nervous and frightened little cat and I swore revenge on the beast that did it. I actually knocked on every house on the street and those adjacent to see if I could find the owners and when I did, they refused to believe me, despite the accurate description and the vet bill that their darling little cat could be responsible and maybe I needed to get a life.

I then started a campaign which obsessed me for months to get this psychotic beast sent back to hell where it belonged, which included;

Getting up and an unbelievably early hour for weeks and hiding behind the curtain top window open with a big jug of water at hand when it came to stalk us in the morning, big success. Apart from occasionally falling and spilling the jug on the bedroom carpet

Water hose at the ready in the back garden for hours on end only for me, when i went inside to see it through the kitchen window sauntering through the garden, it clearly was observing and waiting, failure

Catapult, epic fail, broke a neighbours window

Hiding in the garden camouflaged, caught pneumonia, fail

Water pistol, the big pump action kind, mixed success, had a tendency to splash the neighbours as I fired it over the fence in its path home, I had worked out its route home and time the falling of the arc of water so catch it. I had co-opted a mate to call out the fall of shot in pre-registered fire plan.

It did have the effect of minimising its stalking but Siamese are known to be psychotic and could it keep away ? could it fuck.

The seminal moment came was when I caught it in the middle of fight with Cosmo, I heard the screeches and unearthly yowling and moaning that they do and pulled on a pair of boots rushed straight into the back garden and saw this tumbling scratching fight that looked straight out of a cartoon. They suddenly stopped it and there it was with its back to me... I took my chance and booted it at least 6 foot and sent it crashing into the hedge. David Beckham himself could not have caught it more sweetly. The shock on its face was utterly satisfying and as soon as it regained its control it shot off.

Next day the owner came round and did I know anything about how his cat had been injured? and waved a vet bill, which I feigned any knowledge of and said something about karma and it had it probably had it coming, but if he wanted a contribution to have it put down I would gladly help out.
We moved eventually but Harley was never the same happy little cat she once was.

It now knew I had the upper hand and it lost had lost its edge as it would see me with an evil grin, stroking a water pistol and it would slink off.

It’s one of those moments described as a peak experience that you can recall with clarity the absolute feeling of joy/supreme satisfaction/frustration unburdened that was realised in that swinging boot that connected with the devil cats arse and seeing it tumbling slow motion in a perfect arc with the look of total shock and disbelief.
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Fri 30 Apr 2010, 15:51, 4 replies)

De Triomphe
French bastard.
( SigmaX0 Dear Die Hard. You rock!, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 15:23, Reply)

My Arch Nemesis?
...is lots of beer.

Fuck.

Gets me into fights, makes me talk shit and promise undying love when the balls are blue and the spunk is boiling to be released, only to have the scales fall from my eyes after the last dribbling twitch.

I wish we had never met.
( Ken Oath, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 15:08, 1 reply)

Foiled.
Everything I try and do is thwarted by a gang of teenagers who drive around stoned in a Ford Transit.

Oddly, it isn't just a gang of blokes but seemingly a group of friends who go out of their way to put the mockers on everything I do.

Oh, they've also got big big scarey dog with them. I think it might be a great dane, but I'm not sure as I've never heard a dog make the noises this one does, so that might be down to the breed. Either way - would you want to tackle a big dog?

Anyway, back to me.

I wanted to buy a house I knew was going to be on the market in a few weeks, this house - rumoured to be haunted - was coming on the market and despite this 'haunting', I was desperate to buy it.

Interest in the property was growing and as a result, I knew that it might be out of my price range if I didn't get my offer in quick. Even with my offer firmly placed, interest in the house was still strong and I was desperate to get this house at a good price, so I hatched a plan.

Using all my cunning, guile and a lot of front I broke into the house and set about trying to make other potential purchasers too afraid to want to own the house, after all, it is supposed to be haunted.

Sadly, it all went a bit wrong and I was arrested for fraud.

I'd have got away with it, if it wasn't for those pesky kids.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 15:03, 6 replies)

For two years at school, before he got expelled...
...a bigger, older kid called Mark bullied me fairles relentlessly. Culminating in one dinner break where he and his mates trapped me at the bottom of a staircase (with locked doors, etc.) while they stood on the floor above and hawked green phlegm at me, kicking the crap out of me if I tried to get past them and escape. This went on for the best part of an hour.

Some years later, after he'd been kicked out for being a thickie thug, he was in the local paper having jumped out of a first floor window (second floor, Merkins) during the course of an interrupted burglary. And landed on wrought iron railings, perforating his bowel because one of the spikes went up his arse.

I couldn't have imagined a better comeuppance if I'd tried.
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 14:25, 12 replies)

So how come none of you have said Amorous Badger yet?

( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 14:13, 17 replies)

University Director of Studies, Head of Unit, Head of Course and Assigned Tutor... no escape...
So... if the relationship went wrong, I'd be fucked. And I was.

I was on my way to a 2:1 despite seriouly serious financial problems and a substance addiction (no, a proper one, prescription pain killers following the car accident that forced me out of work and into Uni to retrain)... In my final year I couldn't avoid her classes and thus had to spend over half my time in her lectures, with her marks contributing to 60% of my final year marks.

She accused me of plagiarism, twice, gave me less than 20% for every other assignment and marked my exams similarly badly. I got a Pass for my degree, because she

A) denied me access to hearings re the plagiarism things
B) denied me re-sits for my exams
C) denied me a right of appeal against my marks and plagiarism thingy

But... a year later I had gathered enough evidence to prove that she had been throwing marks at people she was taking favours from, not noticed that the same people had been passing work down to each other year on year AND had my own marks looked at and was awarded a 2:2 instead - not nearly as bad as it was. Who's the scientist now???

Fucking grade A bitch, she was not only sacked but as far as I'm aware she hasn't worked since - and the arsehole buttlickers who were buying 1sts have been re-graded too... one of them was working quite high up for a prestigious charity and was sacked and the enquiry that followed showed she was on the take herself...

If I were an animal, I'd be a Llama... the Dalai Llama :0)
(hengushrh is found at the Dole office every second thursday, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 13:39, 3 replies)

Evil Witch Lady
On the 4th of May 1979, the evil witch lady stole my free milk. Fucker! But then she was cast out of the Forest and her husband died - now she's going mad and living every day in the tortured private hell of her wizened body..

Karmic realignment in action, Baby :0)
(hengushrh is found at the Dole office every second thursday, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 13:26, 2 replies)

It's difficult to narrow down but..
Anyone and everyone that has ever been in a relationship with whoever I was in love with at that time.

Currently it's JR, he's never met me and he never will if i have my way. He's pretty much ruined my life.
(countwilfredthehairy i wasn't born to live, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 12:56, 4 replies)

Taff Jones. The Fucking Cunt
This is the story of my nemesis, a bastard teacher who seemed to have an uncanny knack of picking out the most vulnerable kid in his class & then fucking him up some more. I was in my first year at grammar school, rolling through a turbid time as my parents split up & divorced, resulting in my mother's nervous breakdown and a harrowing time for yours truly.

Jones, he was. And he was Welsh, of course, so he was called Taff Jones, of course, by the pupils. A stocky little aggressive Taff bastard he was, too. He taught biology, and had a unique line in punishment.

I came to his attention one day early on in a double biology period because I turned & grinned at a mate sat behind me. What a heinous sin. Punished I must be.

He hauls me off my stool, drags me to the front of the class, none of whom have a clue why, but are just glad it's me and not them, then dresses me down in front of the whole class til he's reduced me to tears. All for being "a sneak", i.e. turning round and grinning at my mate. Then he sends me outside to wait in the corridor for the rest of the double period, by which time I'm a gibbering wreck.

He then dismisses the class and drags me back into the lab, BY MY HAIR and proceeds to lecture me on what a little fuck I am, all the time punctuating each syllable of crap spewing from his foul gob by pulling my head back and forth by gripping around 20 or 30 hairs right on the forehead hairline. Try doing that to yourself. It fucking hurts. Now imagine someone else doing it so you have no control over the movement. Trust me, it's fucking bad.

This cunt proceeds to do this to me 3 or 4 times over the term. Each time for some imagined "offence". You cannot imagine how I felt waiting to go into those biology classes.

That was 1973. He's almost certainly dead now. I hope it was a fucking unpleasant end to his pointless life.

Bishop Vesey’s Grammar School, Sutton Coldfield, BTW. I was by no means the only poor kid this bastard attacked like this.
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 12:39, 5 replies)

The other X reg Laguna driver
My one is blue and his one is red and I see him driving about everyday.

Sometimes he parks down in my favourite space at the beach during lunch times and there was another time I saw him parking in my favourite disabled parking space in Morrisons car park.

Last Tuesday I saw him on the dual carriageway so I overtook him, he'll think twice about driving in front of me again. How I hate him.
( The Duke of Prunes, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 12:19, 3 replies)

Playschool
There was a girl at playschool called Sarah who used to sing the Andy Pandy song at me relentlessly.

Highly imaginative seeing as my name is Andrew but that's not the main reason for her elevation to nemesis status.

We used to have to play games (usually involving rings manufactured from roses or dusty bluebell navigation) where we would have (ewww) hold hands. When ever I was forced to hold Sarah's hand it hurt, like a pin sticking in my palm. There was nothing there, nothing sharp, no hand squeezing, just pain.

I've since put it down to the fact all girls are evil and this was just the world's way of letting me know.
(Drew Badly Fiction section, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 11:55, 2 replies)

Death and the Black Forest
It's sometimes said that, if you ever meet your Doppelgänger, you should kill him. This works two ways, though, since he'll also try to kill you, for exactly the same reasons. Your Doppelgänger is, potentially, your Nemesis, and you his.

I have a Doppelgänger. One of us must die.

It was a hot day in Tübingen; I had spent the last half-hour wandering around the town killing time, but was now sitting on a wall just by the Neckargasse eating a rapidly-melting orange ice-cream, and wondering idly whether I should have chosen lemon or pistachio instead. I’d noticed that a few people had done a double-take as I walked past earlier, but hadn’t really thought much of it. But now it was undeniable: across the way, there was a small group of kids in their early teens staring at me. And, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed that they’d been following me for a while.

I ran through a mental checklist of the reasons why they might be so interested in me, but could think of nothing. I tried to ignore the kids and concentrate on my ice-cream; but, my attention having been drawn to them, I couldn’t help but notice them further. One of them was holding a piece of paper, and alternately looking from it to me but trying – and failing – to be crafty and surreptitious about it. By now, it was obvious that I had clocked them, and one of the kids crossed the street towards me, and politely but shyly said something.

I have very little German, and explained that I didn’t understand. The kid crossed back across the street, and came back with the piece of paper. On it was a publicity photo of someone who looked like…

Well, not all that much like me, to be perfectly honest. Like I might have looked 10 or 15 years ago in a slightly different universe, but not like me now, and not like me 10 or 15 years ago in this universe. But still enough like me for these Germans to think that I and the person in the photo were the same, and that I was therefore for some reason noteworthy.

It would appear that I have a Doppelgänger, that my Doppelgänger is the kind of person of whom German teenagers have photographs, and that the resemblance between us is obvious to Germans.

But that’s enough. I know he, my Nemesis, is out there. And, should we ever meet, I shall kill him, lest he kills me.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 11:01, 14 replies)

i love everyone
and i can't think of any reason for anyone not to like me
( Adolf Hitler last de-lurked, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 10:40, 6 replies)

bad boss but over it...
So many parallels with others experiences of their bosses...
I started the same week as ‘Jane’ and after about 3 months realised she wasn’t up to the job and then had a further 5 years of her incompetence, lies, bitching and backbiting and cover up for her abject failure. As I write this I realise there is no anger or tension as I remember it when at one time my blood pressure would have gone through the roof and I would have been reaching for the prozac.

What made it worse that despite the grievances and complaints (not just from me) feedback from exit interviews, internal clients office survey’s and me like twat thinking it would change, forgiving each time, she never did.
I kept remembering the cartoon of Charlie Brown and Lucy with the ball she always took pulled away despite reassurance that she wouldn’t.

After a the second grievance we reached an unspoken compromise that she would do the minimum supervision/interference and we would play the game. But it would still send me mental that she had control of my salary, bonus and promotion and felt I had to be on the verge of paranoia to make sure she wasn’t doing something to put me into deep shit.
She could be sneaky and just slightly change feedback into criticism ‘forget’ to do stuff and absolutely never took any kind of responsibility when things went wrong and always blamed other people and downright lie to your face when you have the evidence in front of you.
She also had the knack of finding your weakness and using it to manipulate and control, mine was always looking at what I did in a situation and taking responsibility for that and seeing the positive in others. This is an insidious type of bullying as we tend to think of the usual type with aggression and intimidation. Like using shit nicknames for people that was to appear rapport building but was mildly degrading and heavy use of her ability to patronise.

She also had the habit of when you assertively made a point about something she would become aggressive and say don’t you dare shout and talk to me like that and completely divert what you had been trying to say.

She once took nearly a year off with ‘stress’ after one of the sales trainers accused her of bullying him and that really endeared herself to all of us, unfortunately he was a bit of a cock and she again got the benefit of the doubt and no company ever likes to be accused of causing stress so she had them over the proverbial barrel. But the benefit was the team had a great time despite the uncertainty over what would happen and her return was difficult as we had all been great at running our teams without any input from her.

I loved my job, I had a great time with my internal clients, the work was rewarding and challenging , the company was fun with trips all over the world. The department had the best bunch of people I ever worked and had such a laugh with in and out of work but she hung over the place like a Bhopal cloud and just had a constant, grating toxic effect on me that if I thought about it too much would just send me mental in frustration.
This was especially true when she got the credit for the success of the department and a massive salary.

I think she really disliked me as I tended to be vocal in team meetings or in the office and stood up when things went wrong and had great relationships with the business which were pretty untouchable.

Nobody really warmed to her but she managed to get on with and give the appearance of a caring boss while being the laziest manager I have worked with. The HR director just seemed to be blind to all the negative comments until it finally clicked that it might just be her at the root of peoples unhappiness.

I can honestly say she did not make any contribution to my progression, helped me learn anything about my job or how to manage in the whole time I was there. It did, however, demonstrate how not to be a great leader and manager.

I transfered to an even better role internally when I got to the point of realising I would never move up in the company where I was, and had 2 more fantastic years still having a great job with the travel.

When the company downsized last I took the generous package on offer and now run a successful consultancy and have loads of time with my family, I heard she had applied for her job and was completely uncomprehending and bitter that she was turned down, although the huge payout she got, which even a year later, feels wholly undeserved.
And I really don’t give monkey’s where she is now or to what she is doing, I do though feel sorry for the people or company she is working for though as these patterns of behaviour tend to be consistent over a long period of time.

She wasn’t a bad person, she just had the ability to present herself as being more effective than she was and was able to manipulate people and situations to her advantage.
She was no doubt scared of being shown up as not having the skills or capability to do her job and she probably saw herself through a mirror by my ‘feedback’ which was she was desperately wanting to avoid hence all the manipulation and snide behaviours to cover it up as it psychologically would all come crashing down.

Hey ho, apologies for the length but you like them long, don’t you...
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Fri 30 Apr 2010, 9:46, 2 replies)

Someone who thought he was mine
A director at one of my old employers. To be honest, I can't even remember his name, just that he was an insufferable gurning tosser.
We were regularly at loggerheads; him thinking that his management style was "robust" and "proactive"; me thinking that actually he was a bullying twat.

It came to a head one week, when he uttered that dreary cliche: "Listen mate - it's you or me; and it ain't gonna be ME!!" ...Wearily I started making plans to find another job.

A couple of weeks later there was a boardroom coup. The company owners replaced the CEO, and the new guy made some immediate changes.

Turned out "my" director was right, it was me or him. And it was him.

I got my own department & reported directly to the CEO.
(North Utsira South Utsira, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 9:30, 2 replies)

Living well is the best revenge.
Works for me.

If someone who's hurt you later drops themselves in it, have a little laugh and then forget them again.

Bearing grudges hurts no-one but yourself.

Let it go - you're better than that.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 9:04, 3 replies)

It's my parking space.
My luck was as such that the apartments decided to assign parking spaces ON MY DAY OFF! Hurray! I get to pick my parking space because I show up early. I picked out the space right next to the stairs. Being a mechanic (and a proper one at that), I work hard. No sense in walking too far from the truck to the stairs.

Until one fateful night. I had been out for drinks with coworkers, and on the way home, decided to grab a bite to eat. Thank goodness for the snack I had, because I might not have been sober enough to avoid flattening your car. As I was sober enough to avoid crashing my truck and your car... I was not sober enough to avoid being a vigilante.

By the way, did you know that an air-rifle pellet under the cap on a tire will slowly let all of the pressure out? My nemesis does. His little hadjimobile made it nearly 30 meters on a flat before he stopped. Luck was in my favor again though, as I timed his flat tire to coincide with another day off!
(Floz Nietsnezolf doesn't have photoshop, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 5:41, 7 replies)

My ex boss
Bully of the highest order who made my life a living hell for years.
How much do I detest the bloke?
I already have the tune picked out that I will play when I dance on his grave.
It's called The Irish Washerwoman, a lovely little jig that ocasionally pops up in TV shows or commercials.
Just hearing it makes my heart lift and a smile spread across my face.
Oh how I'll dance! La la la la la la la la la la la la la!!!!
Here, have a sample (apologies for the fact this version features Andre Rieu, but such is the burning hatred that even the Flying Dutchman can't impact on the joy this song brings me)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFxMTn6hL-Y&feature=PlayList&p=FE8E4EA9272F8EBA&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=20
( difficultchild, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 3:55, Reply)

I have quite the list
But the worst by far would have to be Shannon.
Shannon is by all my knowledge a man .We worked together at burgerking and he had a god complex. Constantly telling everyone that everything they did was wrong because he's been there longer then everyone else. The theory for this was that he'd driven everyone away.
Well one day i saw him doing something the wrong way and shouted really load about how he was "moving the burgers unhygenically" .
After that he saw it his mission to personally slander and haunt my every shift with casual insults and snide comments about my appearance and lack of genatalia ,the latter was treated with the old standard "at least i don't have a girls name".

Well after two months of this he decided to deep fry my hat which got him the sack, he then ventured upstairs and coverd the floor with ketchup and piss.Which got him arrested strangly enough.

The man was a loony and i'm glad he wasn't allowed near the knives.
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 2:37, 4 replies)

Your mother.

( flake has nothing against your right leg, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 2:30, Reply)

Advert for a nemesis
Sadly I arrived over here too late to answer this advert, I'd have been perfect for it:

Nemesis required. 6-month project with possibilty to extend

I've been trying to think of ways to spice up my life. I'm 35 years old, happily married with two kids and I have a good job in insurance. But somethings missing. I feel like I'm old before my time. I need to inject some excitement into my daily routine through my arm before its too late. I need a challenge, something to get the adrenaline pumping again. An addiction would be nice, but, in short, I need a nemesis. I'm willing to pay $350 up front for you services as an arch enemy over the next six months. Nothing crazy. Steal my parking space, knock my coffee over, trip me when Im running to catch the BART and occasionally whisper in my ear, "Ahha, we meet again". That kind of thing. Just keep me on my toes. Complacency will be the death of me. You need to have an evil streak and be blessed with innate guile and cunning. You should also be adept at inconsicuous pursuit. Evil laugh preferred. Send me a photo and a brief explanation why you would be a good nemesis.

British accent preferred.

www.craigslist.org/about/best/sfo/672031640.html
(paxvobiscum, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 1:13, 4 replies)

Pam.
Nobody knows why Pam doesn't like me, but everybody knows she can't fucking stand me.
She's part of our "regular" crowd down the local, and constantly belittles me, tries to undermine anything I say and is just a complete and utter cuntbitch in general.

I've not done anything I'm aware of to offend her, and most people find her little digs at me amusing - as do I as there's generally no backup to them. She takes great delight in "pretending" to gag in front of me to try and get a reaction 'cos of my emetophobia, last time she did it I handed her a carrier bag.

When I was laid off, she tried to make everyone laugh by telling them how I wouldn't be able to get another job or pay my rent - until my friends pointed out that a) they'd already handed in my resumes to their HR departmnets, b) I have enough money to survive for a year without working if necessary and c) how secure is her job?

She recently got laid off and is about to lose her condo, she has no savings and expects everyone else to buy her a drink as she's broke.

Typically, I just ignore her as I think she's nothing more than a playground bully, but it came to a bit of a head the other night. I have a 2nd degree sunburn on my nose which my doc had lubed up with antibiotic cream and burn cream and a fetching burn bandage which I had to wear for a couple of days. I looked like a twat, but made the usual jokes about how I'd had a nose job/the boyfriend already told me twice etc.
Pam, again trying to be "funny" and look clever in front of everyone said something about me picking my nose and sticking my finger too far up it.....and by this point I was pissed off, sore and tired so I threw my pint over her head much to the amusement of everyone else.
She's not been back since, but apparently she's "out to get me". I'm quaking in my boots......

I wouldn't mind, but she's 42 and everyone keeps telling her to grow the fuck up.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 0:20, 3 replies)

My train-nemesis(es), or how I became a public-transport vigilante.
I used to have a fairly hellish hour-and-a-half commute to work. This, in and of itself, would not have been too bad, however I had to undertake this daily 3-hour round trip on public transport; the worst kind of transport.

After a while, many things begin to annoy, chief among them being the symphony of white noise, squirted forth from the mobile phone of various little oiks. This monstrous racket, the kind that sounds like music being performed by angry wasps, was the bane of my life. If I had remembered my headphones, and to charge my iPod, it was fine, but there were many days when my life was near ruined for a good half-hour stretch. It became clear to me that I was going to have to strike back at the heart of the problem.

One day, there sat before me one happy chappie, whose music was so painful and grating that I decided that this was my moment. I simply had to punish him for his insolence. Not by getting angry, oh no, but by a much stealthier method. I pretended to enjoy his music. I started to look over, giving little appreciative nods if he caught my eye. He looked away quickly, but the fear was clearly setting in, I was beginning to turn the tide, and claim back my train. However, his music was still not switched off, relying on his mild homophobia was not working, and the nuclear option was called for.

I stood up, crossed the carriage, and began what can only be described as a 'dance', to his music. Now, I am on the wobbly side of portly, and my dancing skill is (to put it politely) not too high, but where I was lacking in these areas, I made up for in brute enthusiasm and pelvic thrusting. I launched my ample frame around that carriage like I was trying to dislodge a troublesome ferret from inside my trousers.

These 'moves' were accompanied by that 'special' facial gesture. Eyes scrunched closed, head back, a delicate bite of the lower lip. In this instance, this pose was conveying that the sheer act of my dancing to his music was giving me nothing but sheer, orgasmic, animal pleasure.

Oddly, he seemed to decide, fairly soon after that, that he didn't really want to listen to music any more, (either that, or he was afraid of catching a stray moob to the face from my lunging) and he turned his noise-box off.

Check. Mate.
(Serotonicity was a naughty boy on..., Thu 29 Apr 2010, 22:34, 9 replies)

It's mutual.
This is probably my most recent nemesis- although it seems like he's one of those people everyone despises. Basically, I'm doing a music degree, and as he plays a "rare" instrument he acts as if he's entitled to treat everyone else as common. Which would be fine if it was just in performance (because you get used to a certain amount of dickery from most musicians after a while...) but for some reason he thought it would also work during music aesthetics debates.

He would invariably swan in two minutes before the lecture/seminar when we were all discussing our research, ready to begin the debate. He would listen for these two minutes, and at the end of it would join in the debate like so:

-Your point is wrong. I know because I can make exactly the same point in a louder tone, while talking about the research I overheard you'd done.
-I don't know what you're talking about, but I can turn around the debate so it looks like I came up with the idea, and the fact that you want to explore it is evidence that you don't understand.
-Plato/Lacan/Barthes may have been respected philosophers, but they will crumble before the force of my opinion!

Anyway. At the end of the course (eight weeks) we were all pretty sick of this. The end of the course included a group presentation. The group that this guy was in had a wonderful idea- get him to do all the talking and let him dig his own fucking grave.

And that's exactly what happened. After ten minutes of him stumbling through his own opinion rather than the actual course content, you'd think the lecturer would have put him out of his misery. But no. He turns to the rest of the class, smiles, and asks us if we have any questions. One of the points the guy had made involved a cow- specifically, the theory was that if you had a picture of a cow, it didn't mean it was really a cow, it was a representation. He hadn't explained this one too well, so we all jumped on it.

"Why would anyone have a picture of a cow?"
"Would you prefer to have one cow, or a herd?"
"Do you know this cow personally?"
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 21:57, 1 reply)