I may as well pearoast this too, since I seem to have far too many stories for this QOTW.
Limpetgirl (I seem to attract these people)

In my first year of uni, while I was dealing with Stalker Boy, a particularly scary girl latched on to me. She was weird in many ways - for starters, she was a fourth-year who seemed to have no friends of her own, whereas I'd made quite a few and she declared I had none and 'felt sorry for me' - something she said to anyone she met when I was with her.

Within five minutes of meeting me, she was telling me all the intimate details of her sex life with her ex, "Beennn...", which was definitely more than I needed to know, and how she was 'completely over him', but for some reason he still worked his way into every conversation.

She was, basically (or as she would have said it, "bazicully", a spoilt rich brat from Tooting who thought because she lived in London she was better than everyone. Her housemates hated her (one of them was Hindu and she used her spoon to cook some beef mince, she never took the bins out and ordered takeaway at 4am), and as far as I could tell her friends had an average age of 50 (this didn't stop her flirting with them). She had an iPod she didn't know how to use, a then brand-new flip phone she didn't have a clue about, and the world's sexiest laptop she could just about find MSN on.

She spent her entire life sat on her bed watching DVDs (mainly Sex and the City) on her laptop, skiving lectures and moping over the ex she broke up with a year ago, even though she was 'so over him'. She would also call me at any time of the day or night, and if I didn't pick up (for about three months after the sound of my phone ringing gave me the Pavlovian reaction of picking it up and throwing it as far as I could onto something soft where I wouldn't hear it vibrate), she'd ring back a minute later. Again and again and again and again. Even if I was in a seminar, again and again and again and again. And when I eventually did pick up, I'd be greeted by one of three things:
"FUCKINGHELLYOUFREAK! Answer your phone!"
"*snif**sob*I saw Beeeennnnn taaaalking to.... *gasp* a GIRL!"
"Heeeey, want to come over for dinner, I'm really lonely and I don't like cooking for one and besides you can't cook..."
Argh. This went on for months and no matter how many excuses I gave, like "Look, I'm out with friends, I'll call you tomorrow" or whatever, she'd whine "YOU JUST DON'T GET IT, DO YOU? FUCKINGHELL! I'm lonelyyyyyy, don't forget about me...". I learned to tell her I was out in town because if I said I was in any of the campus bars she'd be there ten minutes later, sometimes in her pyjamas (and she was not a small girl), would stay for five minutes before getting bored and going home, then phoning me the next day to leave me a ten-minute voicemail about how I'd 'ignored her' the night before and that my friends 'weren't very focused...'.

(Queen of Cheesecake - I think I may very well know you, and if I do then you'll definitely know who I'm talking about.)

I should add at this point that the reason she was a fourth-year was because she spent the entire second year getting stoned and shagging in the most disgusting way imaginable (think of the most horrifically disgusting porn you've ever seen - not as bad as the South Park movie one, but almost) with Beennn and had to repeat. Therefore, all her friends had sensibly told her to fuck off, and/or graduated.

Seven hundred in the red, minus five books, most of my CDs and plus two stone later, I've had enough. The weight gain was thanks to her takeaway habit (and it's taken me the best part of two years to get back to the size I was then, another reason why I hate her) and fondness for dragging me to Bluewater, insisting overdrafts were there to be spent. However, unlike her, getting out of the red wasn't as simple for me as ringing home going "Mummy, I'm poooooor...", and getting £1000 no questions asked.

Long story short, I got my books and DVDs back, told her my dad had thrown a shitfit when he saw my bank statement and cut my debit card in half. And lo and behold I didn't hear from her for about a month and a half. I got to hang around with all my old friends, who'd been wondering what I'd done to them, and I got on with my life. About a month and a half later I'm walking back to my house with the girl I was unaware was going to go Single White Female on me at a later date who I've already mentioned in this QOTW, and someone I know comes towards me - "You know that scary fat girl, what's her name?" "Limpetgirl..." "Well, she's looking for you, I'd hide."

So, we went back to my room and watched Sex and the City, which I'd borrowed from her, in the dark with my curtains closed. Ten minutes of paranoid silence later, tap tap tap, exactly like the [then boyfriend, now twunt ex with child*] did. The bitch knew that, I opened the curtains and there she was, grinning psychotically at me and demanding her DVDs back NOW. The girl with me knew the full story of her scariness and immediately burst into fake tears (why I didn't smell a rat then is beyond me). "Sorry hun, it's not a good time - Brian had a man crisis." "FUCKINGHELLYOUFREAK!" (if you haven't guessed, these were her favourite words, generally said as one word) "All I want is my DVDs, and I haven't seen or heard from you in a month, I've been in London because I was ill. Beennn failed his degree, ha ha ha..." (Probably because he was stressed out because she was stalking him.) Sensing now she was back in all her scary glory, there'd be another month of getting fat and listening to her bitch, I say "Yeah, sorry about that - my SIM died - here's my new number - 07madeupnumber...", and off she went.

She must have got the hint because I never heard from or saw her again. Sadly, I had another two years of stalker hell to come, but at the time I think I was just so happy to get away from her I failed to notice the same traits in the next one.

Length? Girth? Big enough to tie a ribbon around, apparently. And tie it in a bow.

* Who, if Facebook is to be believed, now bears not an insignificant resemblance to James May. Eek.
( Maladicta, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 15:06, 2 replies)

*click*
I have read your posts about Stalker Boy as well. I'm clicking because I admire your control (ie. not going insane and screaming OMG FUCK OFF at your seriously crazy, creepy stalkers)
(TheChicken Five hundred thousand points from Gryffindor, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 4:43, closed)

Thank you :)
When I was dealing with Crazed Stalker Girl in Switzerland, one of my friends actually said "we don't know how you do it, you have the patience of a saint." Perhaps I just like to see the good in people too much when clearly none of them have any good in them.
( Maladicta, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 19:50, closed)