Ladies and Gentlemen, I now present you with a little something I call, "the reply"

I want you to do me a favor here. Think back to that moment in time where you were super stoked about a particular event, but after all was said and done, it ended up being the biggest DUD ever.

We've all had one. Maybe it was during Christmas when you were a kid, and you wanted a Caboodle so bad you could kill, but in the end all you got was a freaking tackle box. (I'll get over this eventually.)

Or perhaps for you guys, it was that first Eharmony blind date that you went on, and when you finally had enough the nerve (and booze) to make your move and touch the goods, she, er, HE ended up being more hung than you.

Then again, maybe for you ladies, it was that time you thought you had found the perfect man for you. Great in every way except for the fact that you have to scream during sex in order to keep yourself awake because he certainly couldn't do the job. After all, who really gives a shit about being poked with a Vienna sausage sized appendage going roughly 100 miles an hour for about 3-4 minutes? (and that's probably on a good day)

And now for my "DUD" moment.

To say that I was excited to hear back from my main man, Sam, would be an understatement. I really wanted him to come back with some witty retort to my email. I SO wanted to continue on with the banter. I didn't give two shits about him offering me a better deal, because I had already told him he could shove that better deal up Richard's ass sideways. I mean, how could I recant on that? I couldn't, but at the very least he could play with me. That's all I wanted. To be played with verbally. I wasn't done. I had so much more that I could have offered Sam and his fellow co-workers, but he cut me off. He apparently didn't want to play, because all he gave me in return was this cold, limp, piece of crap of an email.

To: Candice

From: Sam

Subject: I'm a huge moron and I enjoy touching myself in my spare time, which, oddly enough is about 22 hours a day. (Okay, so I made that part up)

Hi Candice. I didn't know that you are coming to our dealership you have talked to my manager and he turned you to another salesman. I apologized about this situation and I will be at your service anytime .Thank You Sam

What.the.fuck?? How do I even respond to that? I don't. However, this is what I want to say.

Where's the spunk, Sam? Where's the fucking fire, you cowardly man!? Where's the good use of present and past tense, let alone proper punctuation, you goddamn tard!? By the way, I totally recommend sticking with the automated emails from here on out if that's all you've got to work with, because really, nobody wants to buy a car from someone with the grammar skills of a 2nd grader.

Anyway, why didn't you pass along my email to your good buddy, Dick? I was hoping to get my chance at verbal redemption with the asshat in question, but no, all I got was this? How am I supposed to make a decent blog post out of this disappointing crap, Sam? Tell me!

So in the end, you have pretty much left me feeling totally unfulfilled. I feel sorry for your wife.
That is all.

Love,
Candice

And there you have it. My DUD of the week, for sure. I'm so sorry to let you all down like this. I wanted this to have a better ending, but alas, it wasn't in the cards.

Hold me.


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