Letter to T.O.: We're finished.

I'm sad about it, but baby, you know you saw it coming. Listen, I love your body just as much as you do, but I had no idea that you were letting your skank of a publicist LIVE with you!!!! Do you think I'm stupid or retarded?! I know what you're up to! You pig-headed man-whore! I can't take it anymore, so I'm leaving you.

Stop crying.

I know it hurts, but it's your own damn fault. Seriously. I mean, pills? Really? That's the way rich white girls attempt suicide. At least drive your Escalade into a barracade or something and really do some harm to yourself - so we believe you and you look kind of pitiful. Instead, you look like a ghetto, wimpy, pansy of a man who uses his unbelievably hot body to trick women (and apparently, some men) to be at his beck and call.

But, what really has me irritated is you firing your trainer who has put up with your stank @ss for 7 years!!!!! Not even your skank of a publicist has put up with you for that long. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO STARTED ALL THIS TROUBLE!!!! Don't fire a man for trying to justify your bizarre behavior!!! I hate you. I mean, I knew that you were pretty stupid, but I was willing to overlook it because you're so hot and talented. However, it's not worth it now. You're more melodramatic than I am. And that will never work. I have to be the most dramatic - ALL OF THE TIME!!!!!

Besides, I've been seeing a really hot Trinidadian behind your back, and while I may not know his last name, at least I know he's not shacking up with his skank of a publicist! So, it's over. I can't believe it had to end this way.

I hope that you get your act together and actually play for the Cowboys this year - I mean they've given you 25 million reasons to play, haven't they?