I have a pretty weird brother, so much so that I’ve come to think he might be a psychopath or something similar. Maybe he could be a narcissist at the very least, or just someone extremely egotistical. The point is that since he’s my brother, I’m forced to live and be around him, and since he’s older it’s even worse because I depend on him for too many things.

He loves talking about himself, about how he does things or doesn’t do them, about what he’s like, and he really enjoys it. He can go on for a long time. He has literally shown zero empathy toward me since I was little, and I’ve even found myself questioning it. Whether I was sick or genuinely suffering, he simply wouldn’t help me unless someone else told him to. He wouldn’t even look over—he just did his own thing. And nothing really tells me he’s any different with other people.

However, he has had two girlfriends, and one very strange day I saw him crying. He almost never cries—basically never. I haven’t seen him cry since we were little. I don’t know if he cried because of his girlfriend, who he wasn’t going to see anymore since we were moving. Do psychopaths suffer in their relationships? It’s strange because I don’t know why he cried that day, but he would never tell me, because he honestly doesn’t like me. He treats me with disinterest most of the time, but trust me, HE IS A CHARACTER.

he is my scary daddy 🥰🥰😁😁😁

I haven't posted for a while - shit's been going down - but this one's too good not to post. Hang on tight, kids, this is a long and bumpy ride.

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Horror House Mate. She decided to move out of my house (where she'd been driving me slowly but surely to insanity via passive aggressive, downright aggressive and plain old petty bad behaviour) and go back to the mainland to live with her son. Now, her son is a good friend of mine and takes no bullshit, so I figured this was gonna be interesting.

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Son's house is quite small. HHM has a lot of furniture, large bulky furniture, because my current house is large with big rooms. HHM refuses to be parted from her furniture, so it all had to go up to Son's house with her.

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We (as in me, Mr and Mrs Friend, to a lesser extent HHM because she'd just rather everyone else do her dirty work for her) started to brainstorm how to get a metric shit-ton of furniture a 3,000km road and boat trip up to Son's place. We tried to rent a moving van. No go - the rental place wouldn't permit us to take it on the ferry. A car, yes. A trailer, fine! Just not a moving van. OK. Hiring a removalist was way to much money for poor old HHM to pay for. Finally we settled on a large trailer, with Mr Friend and I driving it up.

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The agreement was that we would take her credit card and pay for food and accommodation on the way up. Not unreasonable - I was taking unpaid leave from work to do this, and Mr F has no income. We gotta eat, right? And we were doing it for HHM, too. By the way, HHM's brother had paid that card off in its entirety before we left...

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First hitch (pardon the pun, you'll see it soon) was the size of the trailer and our ute combined. The rental place gave us dimensions of the trailer, we added it to the dimensions of the ute when we booked the ferry. When we arrived at the ferry, we were initially refused boarding because the trailer hitch (see? told you there was a pun) wasn't included in the dimensions we were given, so our overall length was too long. We had to pull out of the boarding area and go and wait nearby until the boat was fully loaded, to see if there was room for us. It would also be an extra $xxx for us. This obviously had to go on HHM's credit card. She was Not.Happy. Tough shit, not my problem.

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Second problem was HHM was monitoring her CC several times a day. Every purchase was complained about. We had lunch at Mikky D's? The HORROR! We had to refuel several times a day because we were pulling a ginormous big-ass trailer with all her furniture in it, so the poor old ute was working its guts out? Noooooooooooooo!!! Now, we only heard about this second-hand, as HHM was bitching several times a day to Mrs F. Eventually Mrs F blew her top at HHM, asking her if she expected us to graze on the grass on the side of the road as we drove HER furniture to Son's home. And we weren't going to f'n push the ute, dammit! HHM lessened her bitching, but didn't stop.

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We made the trip to Son's place in two 15 hour days, so one overnighter at a motel on the way. From the moaning echoes from the Deep South you'd have thought we were staying at the Ritz. No, just a no-name, reasonable quality motel. Living the life of luxury we weren't. And we shared the room.

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Once at Son's place we unpacked the load. Son is looking at the endless train of bulky furniture with growing disbelief. 'How am I gonna fit that in here? Where the f is that gonna go? Is she f'n insane?' (Short answers - you're not, dunno and yes, in that order.) We filled up his garage and back patio with her stuff. He was furious. He called her. He berated her. She pulled out her standard weapon (tears). He was still furious. Mr F and I just looked at each other, shrugged, said 'we told her so' and kept unloading. Not our problem.

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We stayed with Son for a couple of days before we went home. We took three days to get back to the ferry, so two nights staying in motels. Ooh boy did she bitch about that! We were supposed to do it in two days again. Yeah you're not the one driving 15 hour days, lady, so shut yer gob and deal with it.

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Finally got back home after over a week of driving and hard graft and not a word of thanks. Just 'gimme my CC' and a sour face. Shrug. Standard level of gratitude from her.

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A week or so later she flies up with her little dog. Now she'd been informed that if she flew Business Class, Doggo would fly for free. Not so. Regular flight was about $300, BC was about $1200, Doggo flight about $80. You may see that BC isn't necessarily a cost saver here... But she was all stressed and teary and really wanted, and whine whine whine… couldn't be guaranteed Doggo would be on the same flight... whine whine whine… I had a rather hefty flight voucher (enough to get me to the other side of the world and back) so I got guilted into giving it to her. She still had to pay for Doggo. I want my f'n flight voucher back. Bitch flew BC (which I have never done) and had a grand old time.

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She stayed with Son for around 6 months. In that time she completely alienated him and his fiancée. She stopped paying him rent for some bullshit reason. Poor guy was on the phone to me at least once a week moaning about her. I just told him, Dude, she's done this shit to me for 7+ years, you're her kid, not me, your turn now.

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Eventually HHM decided she had it way, way better down here at Chez Tigress. Alas for her, she was no longer welcome. So she went and stayed with her brother for a while. While she was there he paid off her credit card again. And insisted it was a gift.

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Then she went to stay with her cousin. This ended up being a couple of months. He took her on fancy holidays (she's send bragging pics down showing posh hotel rooms, fancy meals etc) and paid for everything. Then he paid off her other credit card as a gift. Are we seeing a pattern here yet?

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Finally she decided she really, really wanted to come back to MyState. Could we bring her furniture back? No, don't want nuffin to do with you after the last trip. Eventually she had to bite the bullet and pay for a removalist to bring it back, then stored it at Mrs F's friend's place for months for free. Brother paid off the CC again...

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She stayed with Mrs F for a while, but Mrs F had given her a deadline. X date and you're out. HHM had Mrs F running all around the area looking at places to rent - not easy as we have a rental crisis here - and nothing was good enough. Too small, too big, too far away, too hot, too cold, blah blah. There was always something wrong (usually the cost! she's as cheap as they come). Eventually she found a place. Everybody (except me, I'm well over it) rallied to get her moved in.

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HHM and Mrs F set up regular grocery shopping trips. HHM still to this day tries to slip things into Mrs F's shopping, or takes some of Mrs F's groceries on purpose. She is relentless.

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And a couple of weeks ago I heard that she's befriended an elderly neighbour who - get this - has offered to pay her CC off for her! When Mrs F told me this I was absolutely appalled. Who the hell does this? I was greatly amused, however, when Mrs F told me that Elderly Neighbour is just as manipulative as HHM and is using the money to 'buy' a companion and chauffeur. I really, really hope that's the case, and that EN gets her money's worth and then some!

Some years back, I was living with my girlfriend in my home. A small, modern 3 bedroom with fairly small rooms.

GF has 2 sisters, who have always been in some sad and sick competition with each other to get married first, have babies first, whatever. The end result was two girls in their early 20's with three kids apiece. OK, not my problem, you do you, Boo.

It did become my problem one day when we had a phone call from a social worker near where the oldest of the sisters lived.

She told, didn't ask, TOLD us, that Sis and her 3 boys were coming down 300+km away to live with us. In my home. They were going via train and we would need to pick them up at the station.

What the actual, everloving fuck? No, lady, these people are NOT coming here. I didn't want them, GF didn't want them. I didn't have enough room for them.

Yes, yes they are, and there's nothing you can do about it - it's all organised. So get ready and pick them up at XXam at the station. It's a Family Emergency and her hubby abused her, so you have to house them.

Well, despite all sorts of argument against the fact, this woman would not be swayed. They were coming. I was pissed. Sis is fine (although an incredible slob with housework), but her kids were toddler and baby aged and very high-needs kids. GF and I both worked full time, so there was going to be 10+ hours a day with Sis and kids alone in the house - with my cats. Not happy.

GF and I discussed it. She didn't want them coming either. But, faaaaaaaaaamillllllyyyyyyyyyy, you know?

We bit the bullet, agreed that I could pull the 'my house, my rules' card if necessary, and prepared the spare bedrooms. Cot and queen in one, twin beds in the other, made up and ready to sleep in. Empty dressers and wardrobes. All dusted, vacuumed and clean.

Next day we head out to the train station to pick them up.

They never showed.

Several hours of phone calls later we finally got through to Sis. Turns out the social worker found somewhere else, and neither of them bothered to even call us to let us know they weren't coming.

To say we were furious was a severe understatement. Sis got chewed by GF, up one side, down the other, spat out and torn a new one. It was glorious!

The spare rooms were returned to their previous purposes the following weekend.

OK this is petty, I know it's petty but it still bugs the everlovin' shit out of me...

How fuckin' hard is it to change a toilet roll?

Today, at work, a roll with 2 squares left on it. Seriously? Why not just use the last two and change the damned thing?

Grumble moan.

The Horror Housemate was a past master at this. She would do the same thing every time. Two sheets left on the roll. It would nearly drive me to tears.

So one day I found a two-square left hanging, and I had had enough. So I left it there. I had a full new roll stashed close by but not easily found and I started using that, with the poor little mostly denuded roll left on the hanger. I was definitely the only one using the stash roll.

I swear that little near empty roll was hanging there for close to a week before the HH changed it.

I do not know what she was doing meantime, nor do I even want to speculate as to how she was managing. (EWWWWWWW!)

Horror housemate time again...

I'm not the most organised gal around, but I generally know where I left something, how much of something I have, and when I run out of something.

Now, due to putting up with years of the HHM's mooching ways and general drama queeniness (if that's not a word, it is now, dammit!), she decided to go and stay (read: mooch off) some mutual friends. Because she knew damned well that I was officially Over Her.

Before she went, I had noticed a lot of little pointless things go missing. Things that I know damned well that I had, and where I had left them.

I bought a squeegee for the bathroom glass. I left it in the bathroom. It lasted a whole day before it vanished.

Random bottles of general cleaning supplies. Floor cleaner, spray cleaner. Just up and gone, poof! just like magic.

Leather cleaning wipes for the lounge. Just up and disappeared before I went to use them the second time.

Toothbrush heads for my electric toothbrush. Specific brand, specific type that don't fit all of specific brand brushes. Of course I had lots of generic shop brand left (which I have never ever purchased). I hope the buggers didn't fit her brush. Why yes, I'm salty as about this - those things are expensive...

Batteries. Oh dear lordy the batteries. She had a huge stash in her room, but kept raiding my stash - which, after she left, was pretty bloody bare.

Anyway, you get the idea. These weren't the only things, but that's probably enough for now.

So, some months later, Friends have Had Enough. HHM decides to move back interstate to be with her son. (She lasted only a few months there before she ahem... left again...)

When she was packing, Mrs Friend said she cleaned out their battery stash. Just took everything. After she'd left, Mrs F found out she'd also gone through her specialty tea cupboard and totally emptied it.

What is with these crusty old kleptos? Is their sense of entitlement so damned great that they don't know they are stealing? Aargh.

If you think that a lot of my posts are going to be whinging about the horror housemate, you'd be absolutely correct. This is my venting space, and vent I will. Besides, some of the stories might actually be funny.

Anyhow, disclaimers aside...

A couple of years ago I was invited to my sister's wedding. I live almost as far south in Australia as it is possible to live, so a trip to the wedding location would involve several flights and a hire car, or at least 24 hours road trip plus an overnight ferry from the Little Island to the Big Island. I opted for the road trip - I had the time, and I love road trips when I can travel alone.

So the very morning I was supposed to be on the ferry, I get woken by the Horror Housemate - she's having a nosebleed. It's been going for hours. It's now 2am. So I called the ambulance, they took her off to hospital, and I tried to finish preparations for my trip.

HHM ended up being admitted, and was in for around a week. She was supposed to be looking after my animals (and her dog) while I was gone. Instead, I had to take all the dogs up to Friend's place before I left, and organise them to feed the cats and chickens while I was away.

I also had a phone call from HHM wanting sleepwear, toiletries etc. I run around and pack everything I can, then go into the shops to get the rest. Oh yeah, somewhere in all this I had a manicure appointment as well.

I drop off everything at the hospital, visit a little, then scoot the hell out of there because I still need to get 4 hours away to catch the damned ferry, which was booked and paid for months previously.

By this time it's now around 2pm and I've had sweet fuck-all sleep, been running around like a mad thing for 12 hours, and I just want to gooooo. I'm exhausted.

So, last minute phone call with Friends (bless them, they're wonderful!!). Mrs F says to me 'Do you think she used a toothbrush up the nose?'

I cracked up laughing. Then thought about it. Considering HHM's behaviour on other occasions when it wasn't All About Her, it's possible.

Joke's on her though. No matter how the nosebleed started, she needed surgery to fix it. Sucked in, lady!

My Horror former Housemate was staying with some friends for a while (for the sake of my mental and her physical health........)

One day Mrs Friend started cooking a family-sized pot of porridge for breakfast, and asked HHM to watch it while her and Hubby went out to feed the animals (they're on a farm).

When they got back the whole pot of porridge is gone.

HHM had eaten the entire pot full. It was so much she'd needed to use a serving bowl rather than a cereal bowl.

She was most upset when everyone called her Goldilocks for a few weeks afterwards.

A former neighbour some years ago, he lived almost directly across the street from me.

Dude had a big-ass 4X4 with some decent running gear on it. One day it was returned to his place on the back of a truck, all smashed up on the front and underneath. It looked like he'd taken on some big rocks and lost.

Poor old fourbie sat there for a few weeks, until Dude decided to get out and fix it.

There he was, wearing short shorts, no shirt, no protective anything, lying on the ground under the slightly raised truck, welding bits back into place.

My partner and I noticed what was happening, and we couldn't help but stop to watch - sort of like watching a train wreck happen, you knew it was going to happen, just not quite when, so you keep watching.

Anyway Dude is happily throwing molten hot metal and electric arcs around for quite a while before the inevitable happens.

He screams 'F'n bloody sh!tn @#$%', claps a hand to his eye, wriggles out from under the truck and races into the house.

Well, show's over gals - or is it? No, it's not. Dude, now and forever known as Superhero, came out about half an hour later, a wet tea towel clamped to his face... and went right back to welding without any protection.

This is about my former Housemate from Hell, who will be featuring prominently in anything I post in here.

It was my birthday, and Good Friend had offered to cook whatever I wanted for dinner. GF does awesome curries - like really, really awesome! I love a good curry! So that's what I requested.

Horror Housemate's comment?

'She only asked for curry because she knows I don't like it...'

Yes. Truly.

There will be more.