You Make Me Touch Your Hands For Stupid Reasons
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And now, a dramatic reading of a REAL breakup letter, by a REAL person!
http://youmakemetouchyourhandsforstupidreasons.ytmnd.com/
http://youmakemetouchyourhandsforstupidreasons.ytmnd.com/
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Rbz wrote...
Bitch deserves a russian pimpslap for horrible grammar and spelling.I was thinking the exact same thing. It was hard to read through the whole thing.
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Kuroneko1/2 wrote...
Rbz wrote...
Bitch deserves a russian pimpslap for horrible grammar and spelling.I was thinking the exact same thing. It was hard to read through the whole thing.
same here... i started cracking up because the guy kept laughing while reading it. XD
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GreenZero
Get Jinxed
I lol'd so fucking much. That was awesome. Please post more if you find any funny break up letters.
@Rbz. So fucking true man
@Rbz. So fucking true man
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This is the only one I know.
Hold on...
Oh, here's one.
"Dear Connie ,
I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride has cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.
Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says “There’s no one like you, Connie.” I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation.
She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn’t believe and an ass that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial.
What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I’m never really thought of that before.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little. Later, after I’m tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie, I’m just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story.
Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy.”
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is. So we’re doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry.
And then it turns out Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fuelled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you. It’s true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is.
Love, Dan"
Hold on...
Oh, here's one.
"Dear Connie ,
I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride has cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.
Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says “There’s no one like you, Connie.” I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation.
She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn’t believe and an ass that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial.
What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I’m never really thought of that before.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little. Later, after I’m tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie, I’m just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story.
Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy.”
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is. So we’re doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry.
And then it turns out Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fuelled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you. It’s true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is.
Love, Dan"
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Here's another one!
Dear Husband:
I'm writing you this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you for good.
I've been a good woman to you for seven years and I have nothing to show for it. These last two weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me that you had quit your job today and that was the last straw.
Last week, you came home and didn't notice that I had gotten my hair and nails done, cooked your favorite meal and even wore a brand new negligee. You came home and ate in two minutes, and went straight to sleep after watching the game. You don't tell me you love me anymore; you don't touch me or anything. Either you're cheating or you don't love me anymore, whatever the case is, I'm gone.
P.S. If you're trying to find me, don't. Your BROTHER and I are moving away to West Virginia together! Have a great life!
Signed: Your EX-Wife
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Dear Ex-Wife:
Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It's true that you and I have been married for seven years, although a good woman is a far cry from what you've been. I watch sports so much to try to drown out your constant nagging. Too bad that doesn't work.
I did notice when you cut off all of your hair last week, the first thing that came to mind was "You look just like a man!" My mother raised me to not say anything if you can't say anything nice. When you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY BROTHER, because I stopped eating pork seven years ago.
I went to sleep on you when you had on that new negligee because the price tag was still on it. I prayed that it was a coincidence that my brother had just borrowed fifty dollars from me that morning and your negligee was $49.99.
After all of this, I still loved you and felt that we could work it out. So when I discovered that I had hit the lotto for ten million dollars, I quit my job and bought us two tickets to Jamaica. But when I got home you were gone.
Everything happens for a reason I guess. I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said with your letter that you wrote you won't get a dime from me. So take care.
P.S. I don't know if I ever told you this but Carl, my brother, was born Carla. I hope that's not a problem.
Signed Rich As Hell and Free!
Dear Husband:
I'm writing you this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you for good.
I've been a good woman to you for seven years and I have nothing to show for it. These last two weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me that you had quit your job today and that was the last straw.
Last week, you came home and didn't notice that I had gotten my hair and nails done, cooked your favorite meal and even wore a brand new negligee. You came home and ate in two minutes, and went straight to sleep after watching the game. You don't tell me you love me anymore; you don't touch me or anything. Either you're cheating or you don't love me anymore, whatever the case is, I'm gone.
P.S. If you're trying to find me, don't. Your BROTHER and I are moving away to West Virginia together! Have a great life!
Signed: Your EX-Wife
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Ex-Wife:
Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It's true that you and I have been married for seven years, although a good woman is a far cry from what you've been. I watch sports so much to try to drown out your constant nagging. Too bad that doesn't work.
I did notice when you cut off all of your hair last week, the first thing that came to mind was "You look just like a man!" My mother raised me to not say anything if you can't say anything nice. When you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY BROTHER, because I stopped eating pork seven years ago.
I went to sleep on you when you had on that new negligee because the price tag was still on it. I prayed that it was a coincidence that my brother had just borrowed fifty dollars from me that morning and your negligee was $49.99.
After all of this, I still loved you and felt that we could work it out. So when I discovered that I had hit the lotto for ten million dollars, I quit my job and bought us two tickets to Jamaica. But when I got home you were gone.
Everything happens for a reason I guess. I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said with your letter that you wrote you won't get a dime from me. So take care.
P.S. I don't know if I ever told you this but Carl, my brother, was born Carla. I hope that's not a problem.
Signed Rich As Hell and Free!
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Here we go!
Something's come between us, John McCain, and we may need to go our separate ways.
I was clear about my intentions from the very beginning. You knew that one day, when you'd made your mark and gained power, I'd need a reward for standing by your side all this time. You know I want Clean Elections campaign reform, John.
Once upon a time, you were there for us, offering a stern word against the well-heeled special interests or adding your name to the all the best campaign reform measures or rushing to appear before the cameras. You and the campaign reformers made a law together, John, and it we named it after you -- "McCain-Feingold." Anyway, you always knew I wanted more. I was ready to go all the way -- to full public financing of all elections.
That's why it's so hard to write this. Where did we go wrong? Back in the salad days when we passed a ban on soft money contributions, you called the Clean Elections system in your home state a model for the nation. Even today those words make me weak in the knees. But now you tell reporters that you don't support full public financing for all federal offices. Do you know how much that hurts me?
I know you're sensitive about this subject, but I really think your new friends have come between us.
What am I supposed to think now that you're hanging around with lobbyists like Charlie Black and Wayne Berman? They claim your relationship is platonic, but does anyone really believe that? Yes, they can give you things (well, not "technically," but you get the point), but do they really understand you like I do?
Or I guess I should say like I thought I did.
And what's with all these calls you're getting from establishment conservatives? Without even asking me how I'd feel, you gladly accepted the support from anti-campaign reformers like National Right to Life's lawyer James Bopp and Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-KY), while whispering in their ears about appointing Supreme Court justices like John Roberts and Samuel Alito. John! Has ambition made you blind? That's the same crowd that's hell bent on dismantling your law and all other campaign finance laws.
Oh, and don't think I haven't noticed that mountain of special interest cash raised by your influence peddling lobbyists (or should I just call them "your staff"?). I know that all candidates have to play the field a little, but do you have to rub it in our face? Having a fundraiser at the suggestively named Petroleum Club in Denver? Why not just come home with a dead polar bear rug or a Hummer? Plus, it makes your claim that you've never done a favor for a donor or special interest completely unbelievable. What's next? An event billed as "Barbequing in the Back Room with John"?
You know, it's always the same story. You'll abandon your commitment to me, and go find someone else who will call you at 3 a.m. and tell you you've "got character." The media may still drop in a "champion of reform" here and "maverick reformer" there. Others will swoon over your past achievements, and, frankly, the fact that you're a Republican who went against many in your party to support past efforts. (I have to admit I enjoyed the thrill.)
But now it feels that this kick you're on, this running for president, has made you... well, different. Now you're just like all the other good ol' boys. Heck, maybe we reformers were the fools to think you really believed in us. But, you know what our President has said, "Fool me once..."
Speaking of the president, it's time that I say it and stop beating around the Bush: I want the next president to be "The One" with whom I make sweet, sweet reform laws with. Laws that will make the American people gawk in disbelief that something good can happen in Washington, D.C. Once that person was you. It's clear to me now that you're not ready to go all the way.
Maybe we need to get some of our friends to talk sense to you?
Alas, I seems you've moved on. Perhaps it's time I do the same. You know, there are others out there who are for Clean Elections-style reform and who have pledged to make it happen.
I'm not looking for perfection but just a strong, solid commitment. And John, let me give you some straight talk: you've got a commitment problem.
We may well need some time apart. If you want me back it's going to take more than flowery words and promises that you'll "change." It's a serious commitment to public financing of elections that I want and in 2008 it looks like I just might have to find that with somebody else.
John McCain
Something's come between us, John McCain, and we may need to go our separate ways.
I was clear about my intentions from the very beginning. You knew that one day, when you'd made your mark and gained power, I'd need a reward for standing by your side all this time. You know I want Clean Elections campaign reform, John.
Once upon a time, you were there for us, offering a stern word against the well-heeled special interests or adding your name to the all the best campaign reform measures or rushing to appear before the cameras. You and the campaign reformers made a law together, John, and it we named it after you -- "McCain-Feingold." Anyway, you always knew I wanted more. I was ready to go all the way -- to full public financing of all elections.
That's why it's so hard to write this. Where did we go wrong? Back in the salad days when we passed a ban on soft money contributions, you called the Clean Elections system in your home state a model for the nation. Even today those words make me weak in the knees. But now you tell reporters that you don't support full public financing for all federal offices. Do you know how much that hurts me?
I know you're sensitive about this subject, but I really think your new friends have come between us.
What am I supposed to think now that you're hanging around with lobbyists like Charlie Black and Wayne Berman? They claim your relationship is platonic, but does anyone really believe that? Yes, they can give you things (well, not "technically," but you get the point), but do they really understand you like I do?
Or I guess I should say like I thought I did.
And what's with all these calls you're getting from establishment conservatives? Without even asking me how I'd feel, you gladly accepted the support from anti-campaign reformers like National Right to Life's lawyer James Bopp and Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-KY), while whispering in their ears about appointing Supreme Court justices like John Roberts and Samuel Alito. John! Has ambition made you blind? That's the same crowd that's hell bent on dismantling your law and all other campaign finance laws.
Oh, and don't think I haven't noticed that mountain of special interest cash raised by your influence peddling lobbyists (or should I just call them "your staff"?). I know that all candidates have to play the field a little, but do you have to rub it in our face? Having a fundraiser at the suggestively named Petroleum Club in Denver? Why not just come home with a dead polar bear rug or a Hummer? Plus, it makes your claim that you've never done a favor for a donor or special interest completely unbelievable. What's next? An event billed as "Barbequing in the Back Room with John"?
You know, it's always the same story. You'll abandon your commitment to me, and go find someone else who will call you at 3 a.m. and tell you you've "got character." The media may still drop in a "champion of reform" here and "maverick reformer" there. Others will swoon over your past achievements, and, frankly, the fact that you're a Republican who went against many in your party to support past efforts. (I have to admit I enjoyed the thrill.)
But now it feels that this kick you're on, this running for president, has made you... well, different. Now you're just like all the other good ol' boys. Heck, maybe we reformers were the fools to think you really believed in us. But, you know what our President has said, "Fool me once..."
Speaking of the president, it's time that I say it and stop beating around the Bush: I want the next president to be "The One" with whom I make sweet, sweet reform laws with. Laws that will make the American people gawk in disbelief that something good can happen in Washington, D.C. Once that person was you. It's clear to me now that you're not ready to go all the way.
Maybe we need to get some of our friends to talk sense to you?
Alas, I seems you've moved on. Perhaps it's time I do the same. You know, there are others out there who are for Clean Elections-style reform and who have pledged to make it happen.
I'm not looking for perfection but just a strong, solid commitment. And John, let me give you some straight talk: you've got a commitment problem.
We may well need some time apart. If you want me back it's going to take more than flowery words and promises that you'll "change." It's a serious commitment to public financing of elections that I want and in 2008 it looks like I just might have to find that with somebody else.
John McCain
