Dear Uncle Ted,
I am not entirely sure if I’ve been dumped, but all evidence seems to be pointing that way: the calls aren’t returned, the emails stopped coming, not to mention that it appears he has a new Facebook Fling. We shared some great times, and we made plans for the future, and then he took my heart and wound it through a meat grinder and made some pretty typical blood sausage out of the whole ordeal. So I have one question: what’s the best torture to exact on him: tweezing out every single hair from his body while making him listen to me sing Andrea Bocelli’s classic wailer “Time to Say Goodbye” in the original Italian, or should I rig for his brakes to fail in his godforsaken hometown and he can plunge off a cliff while listening to Tom Petty’s “Free Falling?”
And, what’s the best bottle of wine on the current market for me to drown my sorrows in?
Your sage advice would be most welcome, thanks,
Princess Me.
Sweetie:
Let’s make this simple.
No torture. No lingering. No sentimentality.
Just give me his address.
Gabriel Byrne and I will drive him out to Miller’s Crossing.
And then, after some kvetching, Gabriel will walk that douchebag out among the trees.
He’ll beg for his life.
What little good it would do would prove entertaining.
Actually, thinking about last time, maybe I should walk your ex out myself, the douchenozzle.
-T
P.S. M. Chapoutier Belleruche. It’s cheap and delicious. And guaranteed to produce a headache so prodigious, you will forget all about that dude.
Advice from Uncle Ted 