Dear Wife,
I’m writing you this letter to tell you that I’m leaving you for good. I’ve been a good man to you in our 7 years of marriage & I have nothing to show for it.
These last 2 weeks have been tough for me. Your boss notified me that you quit your job today & that was just too much to bear any longer.
Last week, you came home & didn’t even notice I had a new haircut, had cooked your favorite meal & even wore a brand new pair of silk boxers.
You ate in 2 minutes, & went straight to sleep after watching all of your soaps. You don’t tell me you love me anymore; you don’t want sex or anything that connects us as husband & wife.
Either you’re cheating on me or you don’t love me anymore; whatever the case, It’s over and I am leaving.
Your EX-Husband
P.S. don’t try to find me. Your SISTER & I are moving away to West Virginia together! Have a great life!
Dear Ex-Husband,
Believe me, nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It’s definitely true that you & I have been married for the past 7 years, although a good man is a far cry from what you’ve been.
I watch my TV shows so much because they drown out your constant whining & griping, although that doesn’t seem to work.
I definitely noticed your haircut last week, but the 1st thing that came to mind was ‘You look just like a girl!’ And since my mother raised me not to say anything if you can’t say something nice, I decided not to comment.
And when you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY SISTER, because I stopped eating pork 7 long years ago.
About those new silk boxers: I turned away from you because the $49.99 price tag was still on them, & I prayed it was a coincidence that my sister had just borrowed $50 from me that morning.
After all of this, I still loved you & felt we could make this work. So when I hit the lotto for 10 million dollars, I quit my job & bought us 2 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 that the letter you wrote ensures you won’t get a dime from me. So take care.
Signed, Your Ex-Wife, Rich As Hell & Free!
P.S. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but my sister Carla was born Carl. I hope that’s not a problem!
Please share this story with your friends and family if you think it was funny.
My Neighbor Kept Hanging out Her Panties Right in Front of My Son’s Window, So I Taught Her a Real Lesson
The underwear of my neighbor turned into the star of a suburban farce, stealing the show directly outside my son’s 8-year-old window. Jake’s innocent question about whether her thongs were slingshots made me realize that the “panty parade” needed to end and that it was time to teach her some prudence when doing the laundry.
Oh, suburbia: a place where everything seems perfect, the air filled with the scent of freshly cut grass, and life goes on without incident until someone changes everything. At that point, Lisa, our new neighbor, showed up. Everything had been rather quiet until wash day, when I saw something for the first time that had caught me off guard: a rainbow of her panties flapping outside Jake’s window like flags at a dubious parade.I nearly choked on my coffee one afternoon while folding Jake’s superhero underwear and happened to look out the window. And there they were, lacy and blazing pink and very much on show. Ever the inquisitive child, my son glanced over my shoulder and posed the dreaded query, “Mom, why is Mrs. Lisa wearing her underpants outside? And why are there strings on some of them? Are they for her hamster companion?I tried to explain between choked laughter and horrified astonishment. However, Jake’s imagination was running wild as he pondered whether Mrs. Lisa had aerodynamically engineered underpants and was indeed a superhero. He even expressed a desire to participate, proposing that his Captain America boxers be displayed next to her “crime-fighting gear.” Jake would get curious and Lisa’s laundry would flap in the breeze on a daily basis. But I realized it was time to terminate this farce when he offered to hang his own underpants next to hers. So, prepared to settle the dispute amicably, I marched over to her residence. Before I could say anything, Lisa answered the door and made it plain that she wasn’t going to break her laundry routine for anyone. She dismissed my worries with a laugh, advised me to “loosen up,” and even gave me style tips for my own clothes. Despite my frustration, I remained resolute and devised a cleverly trivial scheme. Using the brightest fabric I could find, I made the biggest, flashiest pair of granny panties ever that evening. When Lisa departed the following day, I hung my work of art directly in front of her window. When she came back, the sight of the enormous underwear with a flamingo print almost took her breath away. It was worth every stitch to watch her lose her cool trying to take down my practical joke. After a while, she gave in and agreed to shift her laundry somewhere less noticeable, all the while I silently celebrated my success. After that, Lisa’s laundry disappeared from our shared vision, and everything returned to normal. What about me? In the end, I had some flamingo-themed curtains that served as a constant reminder of the day I prevailed in the suburban laundry war.
Leave a Reply