Nothing is sacred anymore.

No, not even our infidelities. Here's plum proof that the most fragile details of our lives are fair game on the 'net, sometimes even faithfully documented with meticulous rage for the sadistic pleasure of the rest of us.

The chronicles of a wife whose husband cheated on her (with her best friend!) are located here. It's the stuff of Lifetime television and contemporary soaps. Best of all, it's rife with rage and domestic vengeance.

I mean, you've got the whole nine yards: cancelling his credit cards, blackballing him from the joint accounts, accessing his e-mail and letting all his contacts know he has gonorrhea, destroying his childhood stuffed playmate, spraypainting his car:

Don't forget to check out the handy-dandy Youtube videos of her creepin' hubby and best friend, and of her throwing stuff around like an enraged tornado.

Dee-fucking-lish, yo. To tear a page out of E's last entry, "next time you’re tempted to cheat, think once, twice or however many times it takes – and if you need to, think of that girl Emily."

Marvelously well done. I only wish she sullied her graceful conclusion (just slightly!) by divulging how he reacted to the deluge. But that's like wishing for a sequel to Gone with the Wind. (And in my mind, there isn't one.)