Dear Abes of Maine,

I’m pretty sure I don’t like you very much anymore.

You used to be so cool. I’ve given you my hard earned money and in return you’ve given me nice photo stuff and nice, helpful sales associates (I’ll excuse the Jersey accent).

But this week… you totally boogered my week. I was so happy that I finally got my lens. My very own brand stinkin’ new Nikon 70-200 2.8 VR. My beauty. My precious. My lemon…

Well, Abe, you’re probably wondering, “What’s the matter, Lindy?”

The optics are out of line and the VR randomly turns itself on and off. I mean, what are the chances?

It came in the mail late Thursday afternoon, and I opened it Friday and didn’t have much chance to test it before I took it for a full run Saturday at the UGA-Ole Miss game… and since I didn’t discover the imensity of the problem until I was dumping photos in the media room after the game… 2/3 of my photos aren’t useable. Jesus Christ on a pogo stick.

Granted, Abe, it’s not your fault that I got a lemon. And I should have given it a more thorough test before Saturday, so I’d have known to take my old half-busted and borrowed 80-200 2.8 AF-D. But since my little debacle, though, your employees sense of courtesy and tact, as well as any helpfulness whatsoever, has been non-existent. Zero helpfulness, sir! Overall, it’s licked more balls than my neighbors mangy, sex-crazed male dog.

Abe, dear, things used to be so good. What happened? You’re about to make my Permanent List of Suck. And since I really, really, really need this lens by next Thursday, and you’re already backordered, I’m double miffed and I just don’t think I want to know you anymore.

And, Abe, you’re not even in Maine. Look on a map and find Maine, that’s not where you are. What’s up with that? Have you been hangin’ too much with Miss Teen South Carolina, smokin’ a little somethin’ somthin’? I hope no one ever tries to find your store with MapQuest, their computer might explode. Anyway. Whatever.

I’m not a powerful person. I can’t put you out of business and I probably couldn’t even beat you in an arm wrestling match. However, I can NOT invite you to my birthday party, and I can NOT send you one of my special custom-made Christmas cards ever again, and if you’re ever invited to one of my roommates parties, I will UNinvite you. I can also trash you on my photo blog. And ask anyone, my birthday parties are awesome.

This photo, secretly captured by my roommate who is obviously trying to sabotage my professional image, illustrates my feelings on entire mess.

Abe, dear, I don’t want to know you anymore. So you can take your broken lens and that $10-off-next-purchase coupon you stuck in the box, and you can shove it in that dark, warm, personal place that the Republican party doesn’t like to talk about. I’m keeping the bubble wrap though.

Love,

Lindy

P.S. Surviving football photos coming soon.