there’s no key to send back.

It’s bad enough that everyone I know is going though or coming out of some sort of break-up or loss in their lives that makes everything so sad and scary. But yesterday things went officially TOO FAR.

I’m getting break-up letters from companies.

Corporations are trying to break-up with me.

And not like clean break-ups or anything. It’s this passive-aggressive shit that makes me have to decide what I’m going to do about a company that’s just not doing it for me anymore.

And I’m tired of dealing with them. So here it is, once and for all, the break-up. I’ll just get it out of the way and you can watch.

Squint your eyes, though, this might get ugly.

Dear Friend of Jane:

Don’t you love being appreciated just for being you?

(What the hell is that supposed to mean?  You don’t appreciate who I am.  You put tiny, sweaty, bored models in your magazine and this month Monica Lewinsky was on the cover.  Pamela Anderson twice.  Oh, wait.  Do you think I’m Pamela Anderson?  I can see the confusion there.  I get that all.  the.  time.)

Well, this is one of those times!

(Okay, I understand.  Go ahead.  Continue. But I have a name, you know.)

We appreciate your sense of humor.

Thanks.

Your good company.

(Uh…I keep you in the bathroom. One time at a party someone squirted Nivea Lotion all over the naked breasts centerfold for that Nike Sports Bra ad you ran. It was funny, but I didn’t think you’d get it.)

Your style.

(Because you really admire that I don’t buy the three hundred dollar dresses you pimp and instead wear some Old Navy stuff because I’m all about comfort. Yeah, you so appreciate my style.)

We like knowing that when JANE is being read, it’s being read by you.

(Or anybody. You’re just cashing in on my longing for another Sassy. That’s so mean of you to do. You don’t even respect me for my mind. You didn’t mention my mind. I thought you loved me for my brain.)

To thank you for being with us…

(Uh, why are you centering your text all of a sudden?)

to thank you for BEING YOU…

(And the creepy dots and capital letters here are quite unnecessary.)

a special offer:

(I bet.)

Get 2 years for only $19.95.

Like getting a WHOLE YEAR FREE!

(Don’t yell at me. And your fragment sentencing structure is awkward and makes me think that you haven’t written anything before.)

This SPECIAL OFFER is good only until the expiration date posted on your reservation form. And it will be offered only once.

(Woah. The Caps Lock followed by the underlining. You’re serious about this, aren’t you? You want me back, but only if I RSVP with the little love note you sent me? What’s this “reservation?” I have to make reservations? I’m having reservations.)

So don’t wait.

(You’re not the boss of me.)

Cash in immediately.

(You mean spend my cash on you? “I’m tired of your shit. You don’t never buy me nothin’.”)

Rush to the mailbox.

(Quit telling me what to do! I’m thinking.)

And mail your reservation now.

(You’ve always got to get the last word in, don’t you? It’s all about you, isn’t it?)

Sincerely, XXX, Circulation Manager.

(Always throwing your title around like I’m supposed to be impressed.)

P.S.

(Of course there is.)

Check out the deadline posted.

(I’m remembering why I hadn’t renewed yet.)

And don’t miss this great deal.

(You keep saying.)

The reward for your speed is:

(I’m not a puppy. I don’t need rewards.)

a WHOLE YEAR of JANE FREE!

(Stop with the screaming. Please. I have neighbors. Jesus.)

P.P.S.S.

(What the fuck is that? Post Post Script Script? No, you’re thinking of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. You just… never mind. Jesus, you really should have finished college, you know?)

Save time and renew by phone and even pay by credit card just by calling toll-free.

(Thanks for pointing out all of the ways I can spend money on you. I think you better call Cosmo and tell her to come help you get your shit.)

So, that’s it with JANE. I’ve had it. Giving me deadlines and shit to renew. You know, that is so like her. She’s all “no, whatever you want to do is cool. I’m up for anything” and then when you suggest something she’s all, “Well…I really want to go and do this, if that’s okay, with you and stuff.” I hate that. And she’s always calling and it’s all, “Blah, blah, blah, me, me, me, blah, blah, me.” It’s terribly annoying. I never feel like she’s talking to me. Just talking and the noise is bouncing off me and onto her.

And that’s bullshit that she’d be free for a year because she does this thing in the summer where she takes a vacation and makes you think she’s worked extra hard to be with you before she leaves, but it’s just the same crap, only longer with more pictures. And the sex? I’m not learning anything new, let’s put it that way. “Talk to the ass?” Come on. If I haven’t figured out “turning around” yet, then I must be trapped under a very large rock. In which case she’d just complain that I never had enough time for her and I was always complaining about the large rock that was on top of me.

And I hate the way she dresses. And she spends way too much time on her makeup. It’s like she didn’t want me to see her for who she is.

She’ll be back. It’s so like her to make big bold statements like that like she doesn’t need me, but she’ll keep calling me and writing her letters and stuff.

Why am I going on about her like that? I’m sorry. Let’s move on. Jane. Past. A toast to her, though, as she was with me for a very long time.

I love that lady.

Maybe I should just call her. Or check out her website. She’s sometimes funny with her diary.

No, I can’t. That would be wrong. She’d want me to back off. After those things I said about her. I owe her that space.

Next time you see her, would you tell her I was asking about her? Thanks.

Come back to AOL Now! Get ONE MONTH FREE!

(Oh, it’s my stalker.)

Dear Ann,

(That’s a good sign, isn’t it?)

Yes, we’ve noticed. We’re sorry you’ve decided to discontinue your America Online Membership.

(I cancelled two months ago. Glad you finally noticed I wasn’t around. Asshole.)

But we know that new relationships don’t always work out.

(Asshole! I don’t need you, okay? You were just a rebound. Deal. You were a one-weekend stand when I went out of town. That’s it. I was there and you were there and available and cheap. Free. I did it because you were free. I would never have paid for you, okay?)

So if you’ve already discovered that your current Internet Service Provider isn’t delivering all you expected? Come back to AOL!

(First of all, that first sentence? That’s not a sentence. And second, I hate your name because you’re always yelling at me. And I’m quite happy with my current provider, thank you.)

Reactivating your AOL account is easy.
Just sign-on with your AOL screen name!

(I’m pretty sure that “sign-on” isn’t a hyphenated word.)

Nobody comes close to matching the vast content, ease of use, and exclusive features AOL offers.

(Yeah. You’re so “exclusive” and “cool.” You hang out with morons. Seriously, some of those people don’t know what URLs are. Always asking me for a keyword. Your friends are dumb.)

What’s more, if you reactivate your membership now…

(Ooh, baby, you know how the dots get me all excited with the upcoming tension. tellmetellmetellme)

You can go back to using your AOL screen name.

(Oh, thank Christ. 12Aspen_PaMie99642 was the best screen name I’ve ever fucking had.)
Your email addresses will stay the same as before.

(e-mail.)
We’ll reinstate all your AOL preferences.

(My one preference: that you keep your stalker ass away from me. Reinstate that, motha fucka.)

Best of all, you’ll be able to point and click on all those great AOL extras — from Instant Messaging to You’ve Got Pictures to “Members Only” discounts from the finest online retailers.

(Oh, now you want to buy me things all of a sudden? Whatever, buddy. That IM thing is free. I don’t need you. And I remember that great “extra” you tried to set me up with when I called for tech support and you told me that the problem wasn’t fixable until the next release and that you’d be happy to slam my phone service provider to AOL long distance so that when I had to keep calling you guys over and over because it didn’t work it might end up being cheaper. What a beautiful act of humanity.)

Plus content for the entire family that absolutely no one else has.

(What’s “plus content?” Are you calling my family fat?)

Even if you’ve uninstalled the AOL software from your hard drive, we’ll have you up and running again in no time.

(Baby, I uninstalled your shit immediately. Got it out of there and started getting new stuff for my hard drive. And you really weren’t very good at getting me up and running, you jag. It’s nice to see you still think you’re such a stallion.)

If you need to order software, call.

(Thanks. I’m doing just fine with my own software. Quite fine, actually. Hmm…)

Be part of the AOL community again. Just sign-on!

(And your creepy cult-like friends are another story, so don’t get me started.)

You’ll rediscover all the great things you’ve been missing.
And we’ll make you feel like you’ve never been away.

(Oh, you mean you’ll brag about all the girls you banged while we were on a break and then you’ll move all of your shit back in and make me clean up your crap while you drink beer and call your friends long distance on my phone? Well, thank you! Thank you for just picking up right where we left off! You’re such a champ. And is that supposed to be a poem? Man, you suck.)

Sincerely,

XXX
America Online Representative

(I hate your name. And when you’re trying to win someone back, try signing it with “love,” idiot.)

P.S. Sign-on today and we’ll give you ONE MONTH FREE MEMBERSHIP!

(Man, you and I disagree even more than your subjects and verbs. That’s insane. Sign. On. Two different words.)
Act now, offer expires: April 19th, 2000.

(of course it does.)

To avoid being charged a monthly fee, simply cancel before one month period ends.

(What?)

Premium services carry charges, and communications surcharges may apply.

(What? Are you still talking to me? Hello?)

Members may incur telephone charges, depending on location and calling plan.

(Im-him. I got it. Forget it, buddy. I’m not going back.)

Can you believe that guy? What a dick.

Let’s go get drunk.