Dear Tyree Carter,
You’ve really done it this time. When you started spending a lot of time at the library, I was excited. I thought you were showing me you cared by putting in effort to job hunt and become more literate. I thought that all of our discussions about how I would be more sexually attracted to you if you “read a book once in a while and brought home a paycheck” had not fallen on deaf ears.
Tyree, I was wrong. You played me for a fool. Keep reading »
Look, I’m not the world’s most observant Christian. But even I attended enough Sunday school to know that God would totally have said “Thou shalt not rape” had there been room on those tablets for an 11th commandment.
Which is why I feel confident saying that Sean Patrick Banks, 37, of Del Mar, California, who is accused of raping a woman he met on the Christian dating site Christian Mingle, is crappy Christian. Keep reading »
Dear Todd Kincannon,
I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we’re breaking up. You’re the former executive director of the your state’s Republican Party. I can appreciate a strong fiscal policy. You live in South Carolina. I hear Charleston is lovely at any time of year. You know how to use Twitter. That’s always a plus for a social media user like myself.
But then you tweeted a whole buttload of racist tweets about Trayvon Martin, the unarmed black teenager who was shot to death last year. And that shit ain’t cool. Keep reading »
Dear Kenneth Guillespie,
I hate to be the one to say this to you, but it’s time to get sober, buddy. You probably already know this, but it seems like you’ve finally hit “bottom” as they say. You were found half-naked, screaming in agony after attempting to have sex with a snowman. Kenneth, let’s be real here — you almost lost your dick. If you put your penis in a snowman, you’re going to get frostbite. That’s how it works. But I’m sure you weren’t thinking clearly. Because you were wasted. (The neighbors found a pile of empties near the snowman carnage.) Keep reading »
The title of this post is somewhat of a misnomer because the South Carolina woman who discovered her ex-boyfriend had been living in her attic had already broken up with him 12 years ago. So maybe it would be more accurate to have titled it “You’re Getting Evicted From My Crawlspace”? Keep reading »
Dear Darling George Boedecker,
I know you think you’re really super important as the founder of Crocs, the footwear of choice of obese Midwesterners and chef Mario Batali, but just because you managed to create a plastic shoe empire doesn’t mean you get to pretend our love wasn’t real.
According to police reports, when you were pulled over in Boulder, Colorado, for driving under the influence you told cops that it was girlfriend Taylor Swift who’d been behind the wheel. “My girlfriend is a really fucking famous singer,” you told the police, before asking one of the officers if he “knew who Taylor Swift was.” Officer Patrick Vest then asked you if you knew where Swift was, to which you replied, “she was in Nashville,” and noted that she was “batshit crazy.” Keep reading »
Dear Chad William Forber,
I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I’ve tried to accept your Crisco fetish. But there is only so much this woman can take. When you get arrested Criscoing in public, that’s when I knew it was over. We had a deal about Criscoing in public! Keep reading »
Oh, Desmond Hatchett, I thought what we had was special, but alas, so did 11 other women. The results of your smooth moves and shocking virility? You’ve fathered 30 children over the past 14 years, and now you’re in court requesting a break from child support payments. I guess I can’t really blame you, because even though some of your kids only receive $1.49 a month, when you’re making minimum wage, that’s gotta add up fast. But remember back in 2009, when you told an interviewer you were done having kids, and then you had nine more? What happened there? Is there a massive condom shortage in Knoxville, Tennessee? Were you trying to break the county record (which you did, by the way)? I have to admit that I’m kind of impressed. There is a good chance you’re a modern day god of fertility mingling with mortals for fun. But still, we’re breaking up. [LA Times]
Remember the name Raymond Williamson because you’re gonna want to steer clear of this guy romantically … or just in general. After a domestic dispute with his girlfriend, the 20-year-old New Yorker got physical with her while trying to steal her cell phone. When Plan A didn’t work, Williamson headed to the grave of her dead pet chinchilla. From there her proceeded to exhume the remains of the rodent, which had been dead for weeks, and take photos of its carcass, which he then sent to his girlfriend’s cell phone. To add insult to injury, he allegedly returned the following night and stole $260 cash from her. This charmer was charged with grand larceny, harassment and disrupting the eternal slumber of a chinchilla. Consider him dumped. [Daily Mail]
You’re wearing a “Nice Girls Don’t Pepper Spray” shirt? No. Just NO. [Sears.com]