The bitter end
Dear John,
After having put up with you for nearly ten years, I have finally decided to leave you. If this comes as a surprise to you, allow me to document just a few of the uncountable ways in which you have made me miserable during the course of our marriage.
For starters, your personal hygiene has descended to the level of near-caveman. I thought I had seen the worst when your toenail popped the air mattress at my sister's house last summer. But, in typical fashion, you had to go and outdo yourself once more when you had the same gravy stain on the back of your neck for eight days. Quietly and with growing horror I stared at it day after day, almost wondering if you had a birthmark that I had somehow never noticed, until that merciful rainy day when you forgot your umbrella.
That problem could have been solved with simple confrontation and constant monitoring, but I'm afraid our problems in the bedroom are a lost cause. I consider myself to be a fairly open minded woman who does not shy away from her wifely duties. I do not, however, believe your request that I squeeze a tube of cookie dough into your rectum while you cry into a bowl of hamster food falls into the realm of wifely duties. Nor was the clown makeup you insisted I wear during your last birthday blowjob. And while your rarely-functioning two inch member has never been enough to satisfy me, wrapping it with bacon just made things worse.
Finally, I do harbor one small shred of concern that your childlike spending habits will ultimately lead to your eventual homelessness and death by starvation without me around to keep an eye on things and pay the bills. What grown man needs a copy of every version of "Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine," especially when he owns neither a Betamax or Laserdisc player? I won't even get into the stuffed animal collection, the pipe organ that you never learned to play, the animatronic Chuck E. Cheese band in the garage, the full scale replica model of the containment unit thing from "Ghostbusters," or those creepy Real Dolls that you keep searching for on Ebay. (Yes, your browsing habits are another cause for grief, but that would be a whole other letter.)
So, for these and for many, many other reasons, I've decided to part ways with you and start a new life. Please do not attempt to change my mind or win me back, there can be no other solution.
Best of luck,
Jane
Dear Jane,
Does your niece Sally still have a boyfriend?
Your pal,
John
After having put up with you for nearly ten years, I have finally decided to leave you. If this comes as a surprise to you, allow me to document just a few of the uncountable ways in which you have made me miserable during the course of our marriage.
For starters, your personal hygiene has descended to the level of near-caveman. I thought I had seen the worst when your toenail popped the air mattress at my sister's house last summer. But, in typical fashion, you had to go and outdo yourself once more when you had the same gravy stain on the back of your neck for eight days. Quietly and with growing horror I stared at it day after day, almost wondering if you had a birthmark that I had somehow never noticed, until that merciful rainy day when you forgot your umbrella.
That problem could have been solved with simple confrontation and constant monitoring, but I'm afraid our problems in the bedroom are a lost cause. I consider myself to be a fairly open minded woman who does not shy away from her wifely duties. I do not, however, believe your request that I squeeze a tube of cookie dough into your rectum while you cry into a bowl of hamster food falls into the realm of wifely duties. Nor was the clown makeup you insisted I wear during your last birthday blowjob. And while your rarely-functioning two inch member has never been enough to satisfy me, wrapping it with bacon just made things worse.
Finally, I do harbor one small shred of concern that your childlike spending habits will ultimately lead to your eventual homelessness and death by starvation without me around to keep an eye on things and pay the bills. What grown man needs a copy of every version of "Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine," especially when he owns neither a Betamax or Laserdisc player? I won't even get into the stuffed animal collection, the pipe organ that you never learned to play, the animatronic Chuck E. Cheese band in the garage, the full scale replica model of the containment unit thing from "Ghostbusters," or those creepy Real Dolls that you keep searching for on Ebay. (Yes, your browsing habits are another cause for grief, but that would be a whole other letter.)
So, for these and for many, many other reasons, I've decided to part ways with you and start a new life. Please do not attempt to change my mind or win me back, there can be no other solution.
Best of luck,
Jane
Dear Jane,
Does your niece Sally still have a boyfriend?
Your pal,
John
posted by B at Wednesday, October 18, 2006
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