CAN I VENT?

I should have named this blog post "Adventures of a Drama Queen." I want to pout, scream and cry. And when you hear why you'll either understand or cast it off as another example of a menopausal drama queen who hasn't gotten her way.

For beginners, I live with my daughter and my boyfriend who for anonymous reasons I call him simply BF. Well, actually daughter and BF live with me as this is MY house.

You would think that Daughter and BF would kiss the ground I walked on since I provide them with a roof over their head, but I'm not that way. I love them (at this point, I'm reconsidering that idiotic proclamation) and I would do anything in the world for them (which I have).

Well, it all started with an upcoming book signing I was SUPPOSED to go to. I'm talking this is a BIG ONE. About a hundred authors and I would be sitting in the same room, hobnobbing and exchanging wonderful authorly stories and gushing at each other's books. Not only that, it was going to be held in my FAVORITE spots, The Blue Ridge Mountains. Not only would it be my day to shine, but I'd be spending it in paradise.

However, I had one little problem.

The book fair is five hours away and I'd be spending two nights in a hotel. I thought, well, that's fine as I've got two potential people who will jump at the chance to see their mother/girlfriend in the limelight instead of behind a computer screen in her "skid row" apparel. Of course both are going to want to go to see that, but I knew one of them had to stay home to take care of the cockers, Cassie and Max.

I had to think hard which one would be better suited to go with me and which one would be better suited to stay home with the dogs which translated to who I'd have more fun with.

If I took Daughter, she could sit there looking totally bored and crying "I'm hungry" every five minutes and if I took BF, he could sit there complaining about his back and cracking stupid jokes to everyone who laugh only to be polite. Jeez, what a decision.

I didn't want to break either one's little old hearts, so I just posed the question to each of them to see who would win the coveted spot of being seen with A PUBLISHED AUTHOR.

I started with my daughter.

"Melissa, how would you like to go with me to the book fair in two weeks?"

"Oh gosh, mom, I'd really love to but I have all this studying. And I really can't take time off from work because as you know I go to school during the week, the only time I'd have to work is the week-ends. You wouldn't want me to lose my jeep, would you?"

To hell with the jeep, I thought to myself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see your mother in action as a published author and you can only think about your jeep? Did you forget the fact I spent nineteen hours in labor with you only for you to put your precious jeep over your own mother???

No, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. I really didn't get too mad at that point because I knew I could rely on BF who kissed the ground I walked on. Or so I thought.

"BF, I need to ask you something."

"Can it wait? It's halftime."

"Forget the fricking TV and listen to me for a minute. I need to go to a book fair and I need you to go with me."

"Where is it?"

"Five hours away."

"Five hours??? I can't last five hours in a car, you know that! You know my back would hurt like hell for that amount of time. Besides, I have to work."

"Since when did you start working on the week-end?"

"Oh, it's the week-end?"

"Yes, you're off on the week-end."

"Well, I think I have to work anyway. We've got the big guys coming and we have to do a lot of cleaning up."

So, there you have it. A jeep and a yard job stands in the way of seeing someone you love do something they love to do.

I don't ask for much in life. Just give me a pat on the head and I'm good to go. I'm very easy to get along with, but maybe that's my problem.

Maybe I should DEMAND. Doesn't matter at this point. I'm not going. But, I'll tell you this much. They will pay bigtime.

They hate it when I sulk. Negativity. I'll spread it all over the place like dog shit in the middle of the backyard. Every square inch a pile of doggie doo so thick, they'll wallow in it.

Whew...I feel better now.