My grandmother is dying and I went as soon as possible to her home. I knew my father was inside and I was nervous. I’m angry with him for several undisclosed reasons.

So timidly I knocked on the door and immediately to my right is my father. He’s sitting on the couch pulling on his shoes with such haste. I’m not sure what I expected, but he barely even glanced my way.

He left without a word and never came back.

It’s as if the issues that have separated us are entirely my fault. My father HAD to get away from me. I won’t lie. I feel abandoned, yet again. He doesn’t want anything to do go with me and my anger at the way he has acted in the past has me willing to oblige him.

We will gather with other Edward Jones Financial Gurus with their stepford wives and 2.5 kids. These elitist company assets also boast 6 figure incomes and mansions with the white picket fences in huge fenced off developments with their rent-a-cop security guards.

The whole weekend will be filled with events such as “Western Wear” dinner. To which I can only comment, “Holy shit. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” For the first time in a very long time I wish I was 21 so that I may legally submerse myself into inebriated oblivion for the entirety of the getaway.

This hot little getaway for the “Real Wives of Edward Jones” and families is only once we get there. The journey to hell? Well, you know what they say, its paved with good intentions.

My home is claustrophobic within a few moments when the family gathers for simple events such as, uhh…, dinner. Cooped up in a vehicle with these certified crazys would send even the most stable human being to the psych ward. Unfortunately since I was born to mother of all nuts, I’m already mentally unbalanced. It will only take an hour to push me over the edge; resulting in a bitch of biblical proportions.

That’s only after we hit the road. The path to the car is full of aggression, anger, general hostility, sleep deprivation, and much  much more. All this is due to the fact that the parentals take stress levels into a whole new universe of pain. My mother, frantic because she did not pack a single article of clothing until that morning, will be bitching at my father because he is bitching at her. According to him; we need to leave at 5 am- no excuses. Father, already heated by argument, will obsesses about the kids who should have been up at 4 am. You have to understand that- for my father- only the laziest of the lazy sleep after the sun has risen for the day.

Jerry Sinefield once said that, “There is no such thing as fun for the entire family.” These family vacations only reinforce his hypothesis. I know, guaranteed, that I will be frustrated and consequently pissed for the duration of the upcoming weekend. The only time I’ll smile is when some other member of my family party is getting their comeuppance. At which point the sadist in me will be momentarily appeased.

Embrace my words and forgive my lack of computer-savy. This is my last attempt to avoid the “Twitter” powerhouse.