Break Up Letters To The Damned

[insafemode]

I'm backdate/posting all the entries I can find, and am currently iin October 2004. Woohoo? Anyhow, I was worried that all remnants of this particular post would have been destroyed by the Russian ass-hacker, but, apparently, I backed up my favorite responses. Basically, I posted a meme asking people to break up with me. In response, I would

Comments

I am so sorry you got hacked.

[wolfdancer]

That so sucks.
Take it as a complemnt that someone with out a life finds yours so intresting apalling that hay feel that they must eradicat yours.
Must be a republacan.

PS I do not know recall if I did a break up letter to you,
but here is a go..

Dear you.
I am taking the parrots and joining Green peace. I am off to save the Whale, the Polar Bear, and the world,
I can not save this relasionship, or you from your self.
Good luck with the 12 step. I stole the batterys out of your sex toys for the flashlights. Hope you do not mind. I left you the last spring water. The join acount is over drawn, the rent is late, and so am I.
Love
Me.

Re: I am so sorry you got hacked.

[insafemode]

Dear Me, I can't believe you think we were dating. Spending three days sleeping on my back porch, hopping up and down, trying to steal glances and screens out of my window doth not a relationship make. Also, TV remotes aren't sex toys. And how dare you leave the television stuck on Bravo. Do you think I'm gay or something? Get the fuck out of town before someone drops a skyscraper on you.

[latindevil]

Dear Adam,

This isn't fun for me anymore. The first time you forced asked me to be the Pippi Longstocking to your Paddington Bear, I thought it was a sweet, albeit disturbing, psychosexual obsession with obscure-ish European children's literary characters. But, as I looked at myself this morning in the mirror with that cheap red-yarn weave that you've superglued onto my head, I think that it's time for us to end this chapter. You never respected me. I was nothing but a semen receptacle, masseuse, accountant, and camponologist to you. You never saw the real me, the me who liked to sleep in a bed, not the iron "boo box" in the basement. You need to learn that there are certain things you can't subsitute in this relationship with me - I am not Pippi, gasoline is not lube, opossums are not good three-way participants, and the video of us celebrating Boxing Day in our "special" way is not a good Kwanzaa gift to my parents, who don't even celebrate Kwanzaa. I am leaving this with my dignity, my self-respect, and my chlamydia

[insafemode]

Wendy, and it has always been Wendy, never Pippi, you stupid, stupid, cunt. I never dressed you in any clothes you didn't already own. Never chained you with any irons I didn't find in your suitcase (or "boo-box", if you prefer). Can you really not tell the difference between gasoline and glycerine? If I'd used gasoline as a lube, your fetid flatulence would have lit my cock on fire, and Cesar, nothing you have ever done has set my cock anything like aflame. Of course I never respected you. You never respected yourself, nor my restraining order. If you can somehow manage to pry your dignity out from underneath the crate of furry fisting scat porn you left under your bed, then more power to you.

Oh, and, by the way, I never fucked you with anything but a Teflon plunger. So you can keep your precious chlamydia to yourself.

[azureoceanlight]

Opal you hot bitch,

Since we're never going to find any common ground
on that whole gimp thing, I'm leaving.

And I *AM* going to let the door hit me on my backside on the way out.

Nelson Reilly