Dear JELL-O Ass,

By the time you read this, I'll be maxing out your Visa. I'm sorry for doing this but, OK, I'm really not. I know this might comes as a bit of a brain aneurysm to you - especially because you're such a materialistic self-absorbed bitch. But I'm sorry – I just need freedom. I think you're a schmuck, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not compatible. You're a Republican, and I'm vastly superior to you. You like long walks on the beach, you eat endangered species, and enjoy televised sports, and I don't like confessing my love for any of these things. Your favorite movie is Glitter, and your favorite band is The Partridge Family. Do you even know what my favorite movie or band is? I once asked you what color my eyes are and you said "Nuke me some smurfing hash browns!". Anyway, I want to date everyone at your firm. But you know what? I still want to be dead to you. We can totally have hot sloppy booty calls . We had some good times, or so it looks on the videotape (even though I'm passed out) . But please, don't be bitter like last time. That means no holding my parents hostage. And look - I won't even make an issue out of the you owe me, or the fact that you auctioned our love child. So take care of yourself - and O.D. on Botox.

Eat [img]/xxx.gif[/img][img]/xxx.gif[/img][img]/xxx.gif[/img][img]/xxx.gif[/img],

G.G.

P.S. It’s barely 4 inches - much less six.




And I laughed my ass off the whole time I was composing this...!