January 24, 2007


I was reading Miss Snark’s blog earlier and she mentioned a funny contest over on Musings of a Dinosaur. I honked on over there because normally if Miss Snark thinks something’s funny, it is, to this Snarkling. This contest is for the best “Screw You” letter in which you tell someone off without appearing to tell them off, which hugely appealed to me.

However, the word limit is 250 words. Since I just spent two hours on this entry and the word count came in at 581 and I can’t decide what to cut to get it down to 250, I decided to post my entry here instead. I won’t win any prizes, but I might just make you chuckle and yank you out of your depression from watching the State of the Union Address last night, if you watched it. Here it is, all 581 words of it. I’d win, I know I’d win, if the Dinosaur would only let me have 581. Sigh…


Dear Annamarie,

I received your letter yesterday whereas you apprised me of your negative feelings about my having requested a tad more than $40 a month in child support for my four children from my ex-husband, who is also their father, and who I understand is now your husband.

Unfortunately, your letter contained quite a few grammatical errors, which, because I’m told you strive for perfection at all times, I’m sure you’d want to have all thirty-two of your grammatical errors corrected by someone who knows how to write.

I’ve highlighted all of your errors in yellow, with my handwritten corrections above each error. Also, regarding your corrected letter, I’ve sent color photocopies to each of my ex-husband’s relatives since I know they do like to keep track of what’s going on with my four children, which are also my ex-husband’s children.

I heard through the grapevine about your having discovered hardened strawberry-banana Jell-O in your brand new eight-thousand dollar, built-in Olympic-size swimming pool, instead of the Bahaman-warm water you were expecting when you jumped in it the other night after (or was it during?) the huge catered party you threw for him on his fiftieth birthday. I hope you’ll be able to get the water heater fixed. It’s no fun running outside from your warm three-story mansion and jumping into a cold swimming pool full of hard strawberry-banana Jell-O, is it. My sincere sympathies.

Also, please extend my apology to my ex-husband who is now your husband, about his Income Tax return this year, which won’t be forthcoming just yet, I’m afraid. It was somehow forwarded to my small two-bedroom apartment, in which all four of my ex-husband’s children are now living, along with myself and the family dog, which was also my ex-husband’s dog. Now that I’m thinking about it, I was also his wife. But I digress.

Somehow I seem to have inadvertently written DECEASED on the envelope containing his Income Tax return and dropped it in the mailbox. I’m sure it won’t take more than a year or so to collect the money back from the IRS–which is located in Kansas City in case you didn’t know. I have to admit it’s far from your mansion, but on the other hand, it’s not a bad trip using his private jet. I apologize for the inconvenience and truly hope he’s able to pay your Prada bill anyhow.

I also hope for your sake the attendants on his private jet are keeping plenty of good face cream on the plane handy for your use. Please forgive my telling you this, but I saw your photo a few days ago and the rigors of living with my ex-husband, who is also the father of my four children, must be taking its toll on your face. Not to worry, they’re barely noticeable, dear, although now that you’re turning twenty-two you might want to pay special attention to the deeper lines on your forehead, which do tend to show up in photos.

For now though, I’m sure you’re safe. Your husband, who is also my ex-husband and the father of my four children, won’t be replacing you for at least five or ten years, if he follows the pattern he’s already established.

Well, that’s my news for now. I appreciate the letter, and it was so kind of you to remind me that you do, after all, have bills to pay and a life to lead.

Have a happy one.



God, I crack myself up sometimes. But can’t you just SEE some furious ex-wife writing something like that?

Hey, come back again in a few days, in fact over the weekend, at which time I’m going to blog about the budding author’s worst nightmare—the word FOCUS, which you’ll also find many, many times on Miss Snark’s blog if she ever does another Crap-O-Meter.

Love y’all, you KNOW I do!
The Hotclue

Fun and Games | Add A Comment  


4 Responses | | Comments Feed

  1. So…how many kids do you have again? LOL. Yeah, that would be a good entry. 🙂

  2. Well, Erika, as you know, I have NO children. Beth has four though. Hmmmmm…..

    Hugs, Hotclue, who wishes in the worst way that The Dinosaur would let me have 581 words. Now he’ll never, ever even know about my winning entry. Daggonit!

  3. My God, this is hysterical! I love it and wish I’d thought of it. Excellent letter, Hots, and it should be allowed in the contest. It’s a winner, hands down.

  4. Well, somebody else is going to have to let The Dinosaur know, because my computer refuses to read the squiggly lines in Blogger, which is where his blog is, else I would have done it myself.

    Glad it gave you a laugh, Sloane. I can’t imagine any ex-wife not relating to it, at least in thought. 😉

    Hugs, Hots







Copyright © 2006-2022 Beth Anderson. All Rights Reserved.
Web Design and Hosting by Swank Web Design | Powered by Wordpress | Log in