I told you I’d be back. I told you there was more Tennessee-sponsored stupidity, didn’t I? Are you excited? Are you on the edge of your seat, waiting with eager anticipation at what nonsense I can present today? I know I am. But for those of you clowns who didn’t tune in yesterday, here is your obligatory recap:
A lil bit ago, my wife joined a fledgling travel agency selling fairy-themed vacations for pirate-themed prices. She was happy. The agency was happy. Things were good. Until my friendly neighborhood mail lady dropped off a certified letter with a Cease and Desist for using her agency’s logo (apparently you should do a trademark search before you launch a business, huh?) Combined with a series of questionable activities by our Blue Sky Journey friends—I’m talking shit like calling someone a retard because they didn’t like the idea of fucking Cars Land in Disney World (this is a real argument. I feel extra stupid for even saying that out loud) or firing someone ON FACEBOOK for posting about not voting for Mitt Romney (the election returns say she was not alone), or being Master-level assholes—the letter was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
So my wife quit.
Wrote a nice little letter, asked for her outstanding money, and moved on to another agency. And then, our grammatically-challenged country bumpkins got all Alex Forrest on her and started leaving uber-professional correspondence. When I was a claims adjuster, I was told to never write something that I wouldn’t want to see as a headline somewhere. Somebody didn’t get that memo.
When we left our intrepid vacation planner, she’d quit her job, received a semi-pro acceptance of her resignation, then was honored with a hillbilly threat letter. She fired back with a bullet-pointed response and we join this cyber dispute, already in progress.
Amanda’s TPS Report-style response to Tennessee madness went over like a fart in church. Like that fat chick in the choir’s fart. Not only did she substantiate her claims, she used spell-check and greater than 8th grade vernacular. And she copied every member of the Blue Sky Journeys crew. And you know nothing says “you know, this is probably enough. Let’s just pay this chick and be done” like a voicemail. FYI: those 4 rings and the greeting are your opportunity to reconsider. Our friends didn’t take that opportunity. Instead, they left Amanda this:
That. Really. Happened. That’s right, folks, you’re listening to the musical stylings of Melanie and John Swoap. I have it on MP3 if anybody wants to add it to your iTunes playlist. You know you do.
OK but somebody in that shop had a couple pieces of common sense because Melanie fired off this little missive to absolve her of any responsibility. But you did just hear her, right?
Betrayal? Seriously? It’s Disney Vacation Planning, not The Godfather. You drop that drunk ass voicemail and then try to act like you’re the bigger person? Whatever. But that common sense stuff must only apply to one of them because Big John Stud let this fly when nobody commented on his super-eloquent voicemail:
As you can tell, these cats really want us to come to Tennessee. I mean, Seriously. Like they work for the Board of Tourism. But now things are getting funny. I mean, the only response to someone who leaves you a litany of messages like that is to fuck with them, right? I mean these folks spent an entire day mad because Amanda quit. We hung Christmas lights and baked cookies. But might as well keep it going…
Let me tell you what, Have A Magical Day is NOT going over well. But my friends, the question becomes, “How much is enough?” At what point would any of you say, “You know, it’s really time to be done”? I thought it was 3 email conversations ago. Definitely when everybody said, “Stop talking or it’s harassment.” But Tennessee lives by the Bad Boy Can’t Stop Won’t Stop motto and DMFRH won’t shut up! John gives us another email and raises the name calling accusations to include “thief.” Thief. I already stated you have a substance abuse problem (pill-popping alcoholic) and an attitude problem (bitch) but you’re a criminal too. Check it out:
My man is obviously campaigning for the Jackass of the Year Award and he’s playing to win! And you might notice, he’s copying all the other planners too. Just a note: the word is CORROBORATE! There are fucking Rs in that word! But I digress. So Amanda decides it’s best to close it out with a nice little legal definition, a recap and a forward to her business attorney.
That means, boy and girls, that there is even more before we get to the end of our story—I haven’t even said anything to my man at all. So swing back by tomorrow for the conclusion of this episode of Dis MuthaFucka Right Here.