Eff you.

“Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?”

Dear Shithead –

Please stop emailing me that you need to get dog food – I don’t care. Oh, and the dogs told me that they think you suck too.

Do you really think I’d like to eat the pasta you made and left in the frig? You’re no longer on my life insurance policy, so poisoning me isn’t going to work. You won’t see a dime.

And while you’re at it, I don’t really care that your blood pressure is high – perhaps, your extracurricular activities can help alleviate that issue. I’ve always heard that strenuous exercise is good for the heart. OH, that’s right, you don’t have one.

Please stop emailing me to tell me that you’re looking at places – just get one and move the fuck already. Your two weeks is rapidly depleting. I'm pretty sure the bill from my attorney to force you out will cost you more than just moving in with some random jack off down the street.

And please, no more heartfelt mamby pamby I want you back shit – guess what? I don’t want you back.

Sincerely.
You can just call me bitch or ex. Either work for me.