Archive for the ‘Cheating’ Category

Dear Mr. Important,

Do you think you’re better than me? I, along with about 20 other cars, was stopped at a traffic light in the left lane, and you came in the empty right lane, (which was turn-only) and cut over at the last second into the left lane, thus cutting in front of all of us. Were you on the way to perform open-heart surgery? Were you on your way to talk down a jumper from the top of a skyscraper?

I bet not. I bet you’re just a douchebag on the way to some douchebag errand, like getting your faux-hawk styled or sneaking into a pilates
class to pick up chicks.

Watch it, or someone like me will run you off the road and ruin your douchebag day.




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To the newly-preggers new employee,

You must think that everyone in this office is a complete idiot. We all know the gestation period for a human fetus and can all do the math. We all know that you got knocked up the same week you started working here. Batting your eyelashes and acting “suprised” about the result of your stupidity isn’t going to wash, especially with the poor sucker who has to find a replacement for you while you ride the government dime.

Creative Freakin’ Genius-a-saurus 

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Not So Happily Ever After

Jack, rudely awakened by Cosmopolitan

Just last week we sat in the pub with friends, drinking trendy beer with bit of lemon in the neck of the bottle. Everything seemed so rosy in the garden, she, my so called wife was gushing on about our marriage and how chuffed she was that our relationship thrives because it contains no secrets. She even gave me a kiss in front of every one. What a devious cow, how could any one be so cold hearted, never mind the bloody woman I gave my soul … my all to.

Last week my heart nearly leaped from my ribcage, bursting with pride. Now, it feels like its been ripped clean out by those cold callous bare faced lies she spouted and I don’t think … no I know forgiveness will never come.

Six years of what I thought was blissful marriage, and all the time she was lying. How could she? I’ll never be able to look at any of our so called friends in the eye ever again, they knew, the bastards, they knew and they let me think everything was all right.

All the effort I put into this shallow relationship now seems so stupid and pointless. What I thought was adequate quite simply wasn’t. Six fucking years the cow has been saying, ‘Oh honey your the best. Your a stallion and a sex machine.’ and for six fucking years the bitch has faked every single orgasm .What a fucking cow, I simply cannot believe it.

It was as if someone had stuck a knife through my heart when I read that survey she had filled in Cosmopolitan magazine. Would it not have been simpler to say, Jack you are rubbish at sex, you need to read some books, watch some videos for tips, oh and by the way, plastic surgery … apparently it only costs a thousand pounds an inch.

Rantasaurus Says: Apparently, from what I’m reading in my various girlfriends’ Cosmos, I need to have mine shortened an inch or thirty. Wink.

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Another Crush Gone Wrong

Vampire Faust, watchin’ the player get played

In high school, I thought I was doomed to live a life of celibacy. My “friends”, however, were throwing poon at every boy that came sniffing around. They’d already lost their virginities by Junior year. The sad part was that I had to explain what a broken hymen was to one of them, and I was always the one they called when they were freaking out because they were pregnant.

My first job was flipping burgers at BK. I had been working there for about a month when M. started working there. Tall, wiry, dark hair, dark eyes, funny, silly, liked the same kind of music as I did…I was swooning in my french-fry-scented uniform shirt. He quit before summer started because he was going to California to visit family for a month. He asked for my number the day before he left.

A month later, he called. He wanted to meet up with me at the local arcade. I went out of my way to look pretty. I made sure my combat boots were clean and I had a nice tee to wear with my skirt. (Hooray for grunge.) I was nervous as all hell. We sat on the stoop outside of the arcade, smoking Marlboro Reds and talking about music and high school and college, the typical 16-year-old discussion. Then he said he had to get home, and he kissed me. This was a real kiss, not just a smooch on the cheek or a peck on the lips. I floated back into the arcade where my friends were and giggled about him for the rest of the night.

Fast forward a week later. B. and C. came into my work looking like someone killed their dog. Apparently, the night before, they had gone to the lakefront to hang out, and they ran into my “friend” A. She was with M. Yep, the same guy who kissed me less than 7 days ago. She met him at the arcade when I wasn’t around. C. mentioned to A. that I was interested in M. Later on, it was revealed that she screwed him in the back of her car a couple of hours after meeting him.

There is nothing sadder than a sobbing 16-year-old heartbroken BK employee.

I confronted A. at the arcade the next day. She claimed that she didn’t know that was the guy I kept talking about. I told her she was a filthy liar. I told M. that he was less than a piece of shit in the gutter, and if all he wanted was to get in a girl’s pants, then why did he just kiss me and leave? He hung his head and shrugged. I let it go. What else was I supposed to do? I certainly wasn’t going to be the other woman. And I most certainly wasn’t going to give it up to him NOW. They started dating, and I was still single.

They broke up before she went into the Army. Why? She cheated on him. I’m not ashamed to say that when he told me how heartbroken he was, I laughed.

Rantasaurus Says: He got what he deserved twice, heartbreak and no more chances with you. Double damn! You can flip my burger anytime.

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R. Rhemus Reefer, offering to help S and CC

Is there someone making your life a living hell? No longer will you have to take it! Even if you grew up as the school yard pussy your day has come! That’s right folks, you’ll be singing “Oh Happy Day” when you can finally get back at those losers who have taunted and bullied you since the 2nd grade!

Ghost Writer Inc. is proud to announce our new line of Personal Threats.

Is your husband still screwing the slut from next door? Is your wife still banging that rich asshole from the office? Do your co-workers still smirk when you arrive in your big American ride with the V-8? Does your boss, mother-in-law, or pain in the ass co-worker need an adjustment of the personal kind?

Threaten them! They are guaranteed to shit right in their pants when you unleash the fury of a Ghost Writer Personal Threat.

They will piss in their shorts with panic! They’ll cry tears of dread and terror! They’ll be hobbled with horror! Their doom will do double duty! They’ll be frigid with fright! Never again will they know a moment of peace as they look over their miserable shoulders, never knowing how or when you will strike! Night after sleepless night the “Menace of You” will haunt their very dreams! They will crawl at your feet and beg for your kindness but your sympathy has gone the way of the dodo bird. It’s extinct! Their intestines will turn to jelly and they’ll make the projectile vomit scene from The Exorcist look like child’s play! Their doom will be real!

Let the Ghost you trust the most customize a threat to fit your personal needs. Blood will run cold all over the neighborhood when your friends and family realize you are now in charge. And just in case one of your intended scumbags is “vision impaired” or they can’t read, Ghost Writer Inc. can now offer you a fearsome Audio Threat on 8-Track, cassette, or CD! Your worries are over when you make a selection from Ghosty’s “Graveyard Gallery” “Cemetery of Fun,” “Tomb of Doom,” and “Cold Cocked Co-workers” collections.

You’ll be able to terrorize even the heartiest soul. But wait because there’s more! Along with your paid order at the regular price, you’ll receive a complimentary “Letter to Satan” to announce their arrival in Hell! That’s a $30.00 value! Even if you decide not to carry out your “Day of Dread” keep the Letter to Satan as your free gift!

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Dear DS,

Could you please give this unrequited stalking thing a rest?

Informing one of our (in)subordinates that I was acting like a slut while taking orders from Dr. X was beyond the pale. I’m lost at how reporting a fall and verifying new insulin dosages was slutty, but you were there, so I guess you can clue me in later on…

I know you dig this guy, but the desire to eviscerate anyone he talks to is not healthy.

You don’t have anything to worry about from me–I’m just not into a doctor who looks like he could be in my gene pool (more on that later) and wears grey athletic socks with a suit. I guess I don’t have your highly developed taste. Before you sharpen that axe and drive to my house to decapitate my dog, I’m not “dogging” your Beloved.

I’m just trying to point out we’re not all interested in him. To that end, I’d like to give some hints to get your guy and ease our working relationship.

Some tips to win your man:

  1. Don’t share all the family inbreeding with him. I know in this county it’s cool to be kin, but speaking as an outsider–it’s warped.
  2. Don’t tell him you haven’t had sex in 10+ years. And when you do finally make it with one of your internet buddies—don’t tell him that either.
  3. Post-its are meant for paper, not for sticking to other humans in a sad attempt to flirt.
  4. Don’t brag you’re a 4x and can eat 4 corn dogs unless you’re with your girlfriends. It kind of leads to “corn fed” jokes. (Not that I’ve told any at your expense. Ok, I did once, but it was after you said I might as well have been pole dancing while I was reading accu-check results to Dr. X.)
  5. Finally, and most importantly, don’t seem homicidal. Also–don’t act desperate. If you can’t get rid of the “Take me, break me, make me a woman” attitude around Dr. X, the only way you’re going to get him is bound and gagged with a tourniquet around his nether regions to facilitate procreation.

I hope this helps set things straight between us and you can quit driving by my house at all hours. It’d also be nice if you’d quit calling me “That doctor chasing heifer bitch”, but I know that may be asking a lot at this stage of our healing…

Your fellow nurse,

Brown Haired Heifer #2

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Dear Helen of the big, poofy beehive hairdo,

I know your type.  You waltz into bingo night acting all sweet and nice.  You’re passing around the collection bin for supplies for our troops and making sure that there are enough hot dogs for everyone.  You’re smiling sweetly at everyone and look- you even brought in a card and cupcake for old Mrs. Wrinkledface’s birthday.

Well guess what, Helen? I’m ON to you.  You won the big jackpot two weeks in a row and I know you’re somehow in collusion with the bingo caller.  I know it’s a conspiracy to keep people like ME from winning and keep people like YOU rolling in the dough, smiling sweetly but all the while laughing behind my back.

You wait until next week Helen.  I’m going to win the progressive pot- $700 baby.  I’m going to do a special little victory dance and laugh all the way home.  And if YOU win it?  If you win it, I’m launching a full scale investigation into your malfescence.  You and your poofy beehive hair are going DOWN, lady!

God, I love bingo so much.


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