My Famous Craigslist Post

**Unaltered from my original CL post on March 21**


To My Bleeding Roomate:


Over all you are a bad roommate. You use things that are not yours and eat my food. You never clean up after yourself and you don't have a job. If you father didn't pay for you to live in my home saving me almost $400/month I would kick you out.

But he pays for you on time every month, and I work so often that it hardly matters that you are a self-centered slob. I do not see you much, and when I do have to endure your incessant whining about how horrible your trust fund life is, I can tune it out fairly well. I have come to accept that when I want to have a glass of milk, there will be none left. When I wish to make food for myself all of the dishes, pans, forks, knives, spoons and all other accoutrement's I need to complete the cooking task at hand will have to be washed before I use them due to your filth. After I am done cooking it is inevitable that whatever left overs there are will be gobbled up by you. I however can live with all of this. Honestly, I have been living with you for months now and all of this - thou horribly rude - has yet to affect my day to day life.


Yesterday, you crossed the line. We are both female and once a month are in need of things to stop our monthly bleeding. You bleed the week before I do. As a responsible female that has been dealing with her period for over 10 years, I went to the store at the beginning of last week and picked up a box of tampons. I knew that eventually I was going to need them and I should have some on hand. I put my fresh unopened box of tampons under the sink in the bathroom.

A week passes.

I start to feel as tho I will be dealing with my womanly curse sometime soon. I go to the bathroom to make sure I am prepared. I sit. It's here. no denying that fact. I think to myself "Good thing you got those tampons last week because you are slightly early. If you had waited, you would be screwed now." I reach for the box.

EMPTY.
Let me say this again.
EMPTY.

You took my tampons and managed to use a whole fucking box in one week and left me stranded on the toilet with my pants around my ankles bleeding from my crotch.

I resolve then that this is the last straw and form now on I will be keeping everything I purchase in my locked bedroom, including food. Have fun starving! Before I bring my mini fridge out of storage from my college days I feel like I should tell you why exactly I am doing so. I sit you down in out living room. Tell you there is something I need to talk to you about and it is very important.

Your response:
"Yeah, I know we are out of tampons, next time you are at the store you need to buy more."

CUNT.