Here’s a joke for you. What’s the difference between the New York Times and your house burning down while you and your kids stand on the curb wondering what happened? One keeps homeless people warm and the other is a newspaper! Yep, congrats bastard, you’re homeless.

I hope you like your beater car because it’s gonna have a matt at the door that says “Home Sweet Home” today, nutsucker. Yep, as if by magic you’re out of a life, just like I’m out of the life you let me think we could have together. Maybe you didn’t say it, but burying your face in my tuna steak comes with more than just a suggestion, it’s an aperture of commitment and you knew that when you said you loved me. You said it and I heard it and you know it. You said, “Oh God I love this”. We both know what that meant. You loved ME, just like Britney would have wanted.

And don’t be all like I’m crazy or something. Left Eye burnt down her boyfriend’s house and she’s doing great today. Fire is just a representation of the heat of our love. I hate you. I hate you and I want to see you in prison, and you will be very soon if the district attorney takes my testimony seriously, which he will because I gave him the same thing I gave you and that’s fair because all is fair in love, war and the war or love, if you catch my drift.

Catch my drift, Kevin, I’m not pussyfooting around… I will let you pussyfoot me if you call, but you have to do it before Tuesday morning. That’s when I’m meeting with the attorneys about the whole statutory rape thing. It’s not illegal if we get married, just think about that.

Call me honey. You have my number, I painted it on your house, all over your car, and I mailed it to your office a bunch of times. You have my contact info so let’s just get past all this ugliness. Seriously baby, let’s start our life together today.