The Beach Trip


So I have returned from my annual beach trip with  two of my oldest and  closest friends and Mini-Me….and it was the worst weekend ever. Seriously. I should have known it was going to be not what I expected because all week Mini-Me had been calling telling me what fun we were going to have and all she planned to do…which wasn’t much aside from eating and sleeping….and then she called Thursday afternoon saying she could not make it: something happened with her account and she had no money and for us to just go on without her. Well, I could not let that happen because she had paid her money 2 months in advance and frankly, I do not do refunds. Period. I called up Morning Person and Busy Bee and explained what was going on, and they took it with great humor….Mini-Me has drama EVERY year and Morning Person was surprised Mini-Me had let it come down to the 11th hour this year; we all pitched in to help the girl at least eat and perhaps pick up a souvenir or two.

The day of the beach trip comes and I am up and preparing. I was tired ( I was up until after 1am blogging about Adam’s Housecat) , headachy and had the stones in the pit of my stomach but I did what needed to be done: cleaned my kitchen and bathroom, vacuumed my rug and packed my clothes for the trip. I was even more or less ready when they came to pick me up ( they only had to wait 10 minutes as opposed to the half hour they usually do) and was determined to do what  I could to not make it a pity party.  I did not mention Him ONE TIME the entire weekend and I even bought the ladies cards to express my thanks for them being there for me while I try to get through this. In the car, we hug, make small talk and tease each other and they did not make any mention of Him or a wedding. It was a girls’ weekend and we were going to have fun.

 But Mini-Me said something that should have told me that this trip was NOT going to be smooth sailing….in this economy, NO ONE has any extra money for real, but when it comes to Panel Members and the Annual Beach Trip, we operate as a team and do what we can to help others out. I had asked Morning Person and Busy Bee both to contribute $20 to Mini-Me and I would donate $40; well, Morning Person actually donated more than what she had agreed to, and when I gave Mini-me my donation, she actually had the nerve to say that she probably had more money than me because we all gave her money and she had “forgotten” about her pre-paid debit card which had money on it and her “man” ( I am not putting it in quotes because I am jealous, bitter or hating….you have to know the story behind her “relationship”) was sending her $60 via Western Union…which he did (surprise, surprise)….but it wasn’t for her…he wanted her to bring him back some souvenirs. I did not say anything….I was going to overlook and rise above; but you know, with some people you cannot do that. To paraphrase Eddie Murphy, give some folks a rope, they want to be a cowboy.

Once on the highway, I asked the girls was I pretty and sexy…..there was a moment of silence as they tried to process what I was asking. It is amazing to Morning Person and Busy Bee that I do not see what they do when they look at me….but Mini-Me had NO problem answering, and her response was: we all are. BITCH, I am the one going through with depleted levels of everything “self”…..I am seeking my very own, personalized validation, not trying to make everyone feel better about themselves…just me. Yes, self-centered and petty but if I ask you if I am something, I want to know about ME, NOT you. Busy Bee was the only who got it…and let me re-phrase that….every chick in that car got what I was after; Morning Person was not just going to indulge me (she had just done it like 10 times the night before) and Mini-Me is the type who revels in another’s misery. Honestly, she does….but Busy Bee was the one who kicked off the “you are wonderful” parade. I love her.

Then, Mini-Me suggested playing some CDs she had with her….and I am thinking: road trip, trying to help a friend over her heartbreak….so I am thinking it is some Motown, some dance jams….something empowering like Mary J. Blige, Chaka Khan, even Whitney Houston. Hmmmm, no. This fat ass heifer wants to play a CD she calls Love Jones….and I KNEW I was not in the mood for love songs, so I put my music player in so I can hear some remixed Motown and Cee-Lo Green ( have you guys heard F%ck You? AWESOME!) However, Busy Bee and Mini-Me are either half deaf or were in on some scheme to deliberately torture me: they were playing songs like What Have I Done to Deserve Such Misery, If Loving is Wrong, I Don’t Want to Be Right and Thin Line Between Love and Hate. Morning Person tried to tell them I had my own music  so I was not listening and all Mini-Me kept on saying: turn it up, girl! I finally asked her WHY I could hear her music over mine when mine was at top volume? She looks at me with this really dumb ass look and asked what was wrong? And I was dangerously close to losing it…..I pretty much yelled at the entire car. What was wrong? For this NOT to be a pity party, I damned sure could not tell…the only things missing were a bottle of wine and a goddamned handkerchief.  What Have I Done to Deserve Such Misery….seriously???  I would not listen to songs that sad if I were healthy, balanced and had every man in America on my doorstep. AND the fucking music was still at top volume! So now, I was angry, hurting worse than ever and all the grass was a green as that of a golf course (where the wedding was held)….so all the thoughts I was trying to keep below the surface came crashing through and I was silently crying while staring at nothing out the window.

Needless to say tension was thick, and I refused to take responsibility for it. I had done more than my share…..even so far as bringing my own music so they could enjoy theirs, but noooo….I HAD to be fucked with…and Mini-Me had the NERVE to pat me on my thigh and tell me I looked terrible but she loved me anyway. Bitch, suck my big dick, why don’t you?  So Busy Bee suggests we stop, eat, and just regroup. We pull into a Wendy’s and while I am attempting to get out of the too small backseat, Morning Person shuts the car door on my fingers!! It really was an accident but at this point….they are all inconsiderate, insensitive bitches and I should have just stayed the hell home and held an actual pity party where I could cry, curse and scream to my heart’s content. I did not say a word while my fingers were held captive in the car door….not even to tell Morning Person to open the door. I was a victim and a martyr and here was the proof. It did not take Morning Person long to realize the reason I was no longer trying to get out of the car, and she quickly opened the door, asking me was I okay, were my fingers okay…..I just looked at her in a flat way and told her I have done worse to them. I think I hurt her feelings….all she said was she did not see my hand in the doorway and if I was okay, to suck it up and come get some food. At this point, calling New Mommy became a very real possibility….I just needed to get back over the bridge and we were less than 30 miles from her house.

I did not call New Mommy….I rode all the way to the beach not really talking to anyone trying to figure out how to salvage what was turning out to be the longest, worst road trip ever. And once we hit the beach, life got no better. It really didn’t, and I will elaborate on that more in another post. I am working on two right now: Developing Stories, which is about the new drama invading our lives and a follow-up on the story that birthed the blog and Loving You, Losing Me which should be self-explanatory and this is the post where I will elaborate further on the worst weekend ever.

Right now, it is getting late , my brain is slow and I need sleep. Stay tuned….the new posts will both be posted before the weekend is over. Have an awesome day, and we will talk very soon!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s