What's the worst kind of lie someone could tell you? What about BS-ing that they have terminal cancer? It sounds unreal, but it's one of Kari Ferrell's greatest hits.

Earlier this year, the 22-year-old, who is wanted in Utah for passing $60,000 in bad checks, conned her way into a job at Vice magazine ... and into the pants (and wallets) of a roster of Brooklyn dwellers.

Kari got popped when a guy she was pursuing Googled her out of curiosity (the lesson here: sometimes Internet stalking is a good thing) and she turned up on the Salt Lake City Police Department's Most Wanted list. In Utah, Kari wracked up multiple warrants for offenses including fraud and shoplifting, in addition to the thousands and thousands in bad checks.

After she fled to Brooklyn, she lied her way into the Vice job and into the lives of several lovestruck chaps, from whom she stole cash, cell phones, credit cards and more. She's currently still at large, although she has been e-mailing Gawker to "explain" her actions. The worst part? Like a lot of pathological liars, she's sort of charming.

Think you'd be able to spot a pathological liar? Click here to read one girl's experience with her own seriously tall-tale teller ...

My Experience With a Pathological Liar

I'd just transferred to a new college and was living away from home for the first time. I was scared and more than eager to make friends. Maybe that's why she chose me.

"Hope" lived in the same dorm. Within minutes of meeting her, she had me convinced of her supreme awesomeness. By the age of 18, she'd toured Asia and Australia on a pro-skateboarding tour but was giving up the crazy party life of extreme sports, no matter how hard Tony Hawk begged her to stay. She was a Mensan and got across-the-board acceptances to all the Ivies, but chose our humble state school because it was close to her dying grandmother. And it was totally legal for her to smoke pot ... because she had cancer.

Sure, it's obvious now that it was all a bunch of crap, but back then what reason did I have to doubt her? She was super-charismatic, funny and cool. I bought it all hook, line and sinker.

We became fast friends. I paid for slices of pizza and beers here and there. When she didn't have anywhere to go for a long holiday, I paid for her bus ticket to my house to stay with my family. I paid for matching navel rings -- her version of friendship bracelets. She insisted she'd pay me back as soon as her trust fund was unfrozen.

The lie that broke the camel's back

On September 11, I awoke to her frantically knocking on my door. She told me her boyfriend was on United Airlines Flight 93 on his way to visit, but it had crashed. She wailed through the halls, soliciting comfort from whoever would stop to listen. Later that night her phone rang while I was dutifully consoling her. It was her boyfriend. He had survived the crash and was safe at his parent's home in Philadelphia.

When news reports revealed that Flight 93 had no survivors, Hope couldn't let go of the lie. At that point I was finally able to see her for what she was, and I called her on it.

We didn't speak again until she knocked on my door to show off a fresh set of shallow cuts she'd made to her wrist. At that point, I had nothing left in me to care. I called the RA and an ambulance and watched Hope kick and scream her way down the hallway. She was admitted to a mental-health hospital and expelled from school shortly after.

Harder, better, faster, stronger

I still ask myself how I could have ever been so naïve. Maybe I was too polite or too anxious to make friends. Maybe I wanted some of that fake coolness to rub off on me. Hope's ultimate mistake was that, in her desperation, she became unlikable.

And now I know firsthand: If a person seems too good to be true, they're probably lying. I never got back the money Hope "borrowed." I regret the belly-piercing that will never completely heal. And take it from me, there's not a more humbling experience than being somebody's patsy. But I don't regret being the type of person that gives others a chance. Maybe I'm a little jaded now, but I won't be taken for a ride anytime soon.

Nicole Sia is a frequent Lemondrop contributor and resident shopping expert. She lives, bargain hunts and blogs in New York City.