The straw that broke the camel's back.

Fuck you ESPN. Fuck you good and hard.

I used to love you more than anything else, so much even, that my roommate and I once made a Top 10 of why Sportscenter is better than a woman. It's all over now. You fucking crossed the line this time, and guess what? It's a dealbreaker, I can't forgive this.

I am fucking fed up with your prognostications and the low rent queefs you get to do them. Its one thing to offer your thoughts on this weekend's games, I’ll even go so far as to compromise on championship predictions. We both know you suck at them, so much so that you have to have revised picks halfway through football season, but hey, what is a relationship with out a little give and take?

But no, that wasn't enough for you. My heart and soul's devotion to your quirky antics and endless re-airs couldn't satiate your desires, you wanted more. And so it was that you launched ESPN.com, 24 hours a day of statistics and stories, ever changing hotlinks, and just an all around plethora of sports information...but you didn't stop there either. I wanted to hold you so tight. We took the next step, I became an Insider.

We learned so much about each other and shared everything; fantasy picks, blogs on the dl, games to watch, the real nitty gritty of intriguing matchups and scouting reports, Gammo and Olney, Pasquerelli's tip sheet, the list goes on. Because of you I always felt comfortable around my friends, I knew that no matter what I said, you would back me up, because you were always there for me and I always came back to you.

That still wasn't enough for you. You had to have it all. Just a scant few games into the NCAA basketball season you have linked on your front page, under a pic of one of the ugliest mofos ever to play sports, the first edition of 07 Bracketology by that fucking hack, Joe everyoneiswelcometotheparty Lunardi. Seriously, how could you? It would have been ok for you to give me a list of 65 teams that you think will make the tournament, but no, you got up on that mechanical bull with your titties hanging out, wearing nothing but a burgundy colored thong, with your god damned tampon string dangling there for the whole bar to see...you went and seeded all 65 teams, told me who was rising/falling/last 4 in/last 4 out. Its November 13, 2006 today, the opening round of this year's tourney starts March, 13, 2007; that's 4 months and 1000's of games from now. How could you possibly be so arrogant? Think of what we had!!

I have news for you though Mrs. Robinson, the love affair that started when I was 10, the one that carried me through High School, into college and through it, all five years, the booty call that always picked up when I got home from a rough night and still wanted to do it again in the morning, the thing that carried me through the hardest times, always made me laugh and never talked back...is over. I just can't go on like this, you crossed the line and I'm done giving myself to you without getting more of what I want. Sure the other ladies out there may not have the glitz or the glamour, or the fantastic tits, but I'll find the one for me. And she'll give me everything I want and nothing I don't need. It's over baby.