Last night I dreamt (we know each other well enough for me to be telling you this) that one of my closest friends in the world (like a sister to me, if I had a sister, which I don't, so maybe she's like a brother to me since I have one of those) gave a party and didn't invite me. I walked into her apartment and found the party going on. Without me. On account of I wasn't invited. By one of my closest friends. Who didn't invite me to her party.
I spent the rest of the dream in that particular combination of righteous indignation and self-pity that I actually find pretty pleasant. This morning, however, I sent my friend an e-mail informing her our friendship was over (when I spoke to her on Sunday, she mentioned that she was very far behind on her e-mails, so she probably won't even find out she's no longer a brother to me for months).
Because of my extremely delicate and sensitive nature (stop snickering; it hurts my extremely delicate and sensitive nature), I've had to learn techniques to keep from not being invited to parties. One trick I've discovered is to crash the event. Or better still, create the idea of the event in some unsuspecting soul, and then crash it.
Last summer, during one of my obsessive googles, I discovered that Bishop Fenwick High School, in Peabody, Massachusetts, had made Life As We Knew It required reading for their entire student body. For a writer, on a scale of one to ten with one being the misery and suffering that us delicate and sensitive writers endure on a regular basis and ten being the Pulitzer Prize, this was a seventeen. Maybe even a twenty-three.
Naturally I googled Bishop Fenwick High School to learn what I could about it, and I was thrilled with everything I learned. It is a very impressive college prep high school. See for yourself: www.fenwick.org
Thus, without a moment's hesitation, I wrote Bishop Fenwick High School a letter inviting myself for a visit. Bishop Fenwick High School countered by closing for the summer.
But eventually summer ended and I heard from them. Since the phrase "order of protection" was nowhere mentioned, I pushed my advantage. And pushed some more. And maybe even a little more, until Bishop Fenwick High School got it in its well educated head that it had invited me to visit next Monday and meet its fabulous student body, all of whom have read Life As We Knew It. Maybe some of them even like it.
But even if the entire student body of Bishop Fenwick High School hates my book (oh I hope not!), I'll still get to meet them and talk about my book and wear my new pants suit.
To help me get there on time, I even bought one of those GPS thingys. There's this tiny woman inside it who tells me when to make right turns and lefts. She sounds like just like the Swedish Chef, so it's quite possible she's an illegal alien. Don't tell Lou Dobbs. He's particularly concerned about the Swedish illegal alien problem.
The next big event I intend to crash is Al Gore's Nobel Peace Prize Gala And Penny Social. On the assumption he also googles obsessively, this is my chance to let him know I voted for him and saw An Inconvenient Truth. How many other people can claim that?
Just send me an e-mail, Al. My little illegal alien Swedish chef GPS thingy has already given me the directions to Stockholm, Sweden. Make a right turn onto the Atlantic Ocean and drive for a few thousand miles.
And for you, I'll even buy a new pants suit!