April E. Brucker's Blog, page 57
April 1, 2013
Baby Cousins
Yes, I am one of the older girl cousins in my family. To figure out my family you need a calculator. My father is the second of seven, my mom the oldest of six. In my dad's family, each person averages about 3.3 children I suppose. I mean, my dad has three. My aunt has two. My uncle has three. My other uncle has four. One of my uncles has three, and then my aunt has two. The only one that didn't have any kids was Aunt Margaret, RIP. But she was a Godmother to three of the kids. In that mix we kind of absorbed my aunt's sister (uncle's wife's) familia and my other aunt's family on occasion. So I have cousin in laws which is kind of crazy kool.
My baby cousins are all growing up so quickly. They are doing good things with themselves. One is going to Case Western and is a member of a fraternity. As an officer, he is growing his hair so he can shave an arrow in it. I think he is a good kid but I wish he were using his time a little better. On the other hand, he studies hard and got good grades. I will allow the arrow.
His brother is going to St. Francis to play football in the fall. He is already planning his prom with some girl. They are going as friends. I am happy about this. If it were a boyfriend/girlfriend thing it would be much too intense. He is making plans and he better hurry. But being a young guy he is waiting until the last McSecond.
His youngest brother is playing baseball this spring. I am happy about that. This particular cousin is good and has the goods to go pro. But he has been doing pull ups in anticipation for football. Man is he growing up quick.
In the basement my mom was showing some of my little cousins to lift weights. I would have to say the two cousins who are adopted and close in age-a month apart-are good kids. They are doing well in school and learning to lift. The one always has his bestie there. They are joined at the hip. However, his bestie was with his family.
The youngest of that crew was showing me her instagram photos that she took. On her instagram was a photo of her boyfriend. So far at ten she has a cellphone and a boyfriend. I know, damn kid has more of a life than I do. These days I have to swear less in my status updates because my baby cousins are reading my page.
The cousins and the spliter half and baby cousin in laws and various other relations begged me to tell them scary stories yesterday. There are so many little cousin in laws and everything else at this point doing the math is just difficult especially since I am God awful at math. Anyway, when I was telling them the stories I had to be careful what I said. I couldnt say, "And then there was a dead hooker's ghost that ran down the stairs because the theatre used to be a brothel." Then it would be a very color discussion about how their older cousin taught them the definition of the words hooker and brothel and other advanced lessons. AWKWARD!
During our scary story session, their idea by the way, they kept telling me, "Scarier, more blood." And I told them, "Yes, and when you can't sleep your mother is going to be ticked at me." I wanted to use the word pissed but they are too little for that. Plus you have to be respectful of children.
And then they begged, "Scarier, more blood. Tell us about the Green Dude in the tunnel!" And for the record, they are referencing the Green Man, a famous Pittsburgh scary character.
And after that they commanded, "Tell us about the murderer with the hook!"
Finally my baby cousin took over and told this scary and horrible story about a toddler's family murdered by a ghost. Here I am trying to make sure that these children can sleep and they are more disturbed than I could ever believe. But it made me chuckle. Perhaps kids can handle more than we think.
It is a charming paradox. On one hand, they waited patiently for the Easter Bunny and begged their parents to go to the mall for the photo. On the other hand, they want more blood, guts, and gore. I dunno, kids these days.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
My baby cousins are all growing up so quickly. They are doing good things with themselves. One is going to Case Western and is a member of a fraternity. As an officer, he is growing his hair so he can shave an arrow in it. I think he is a good kid but I wish he were using his time a little better. On the other hand, he studies hard and got good grades. I will allow the arrow.
His brother is going to St. Francis to play football in the fall. He is already planning his prom with some girl. They are going as friends. I am happy about this. If it were a boyfriend/girlfriend thing it would be much too intense. He is making plans and he better hurry. But being a young guy he is waiting until the last McSecond.
His youngest brother is playing baseball this spring. I am happy about that. This particular cousin is good and has the goods to go pro. But he has been doing pull ups in anticipation for football. Man is he growing up quick.
In the basement my mom was showing some of my little cousins to lift weights. I would have to say the two cousins who are adopted and close in age-a month apart-are good kids. They are doing well in school and learning to lift. The one always has his bestie there. They are joined at the hip. However, his bestie was with his family.
The youngest of that crew was showing me her instagram photos that she took. On her instagram was a photo of her boyfriend. So far at ten she has a cellphone and a boyfriend. I know, damn kid has more of a life than I do. These days I have to swear less in my status updates because my baby cousins are reading my page.
The cousins and the spliter half and baby cousin in laws and various other relations begged me to tell them scary stories yesterday. There are so many little cousin in laws and everything else at this point doing the math is just difficult especially since I am God awful at math. Anyway, when I was telling them the stories I had to be careful what I said. I couldnt say, "And then there was a dead hooker's ghost that ran down the stairs because the theatre used to be a brothel." Then it would be a very color discussion about how their older cousin taught them the definition of the words hooker and brothel and other advanced lessons. AWKWARD!
During our scary story session, their idea by the way, they kept telling me, "Scarier, more blood." And I told them, "Yes, and when you can't sleep your mother is going to be ticked at me." I wanted to use the word pissed but they are too little for that. Plus you have to be respectful of children.
And then they begged, "Scarier, more blood. Tell us about the Green Dude in the tunnel!" And for the record, they are referencing the Green Man, a famous Pittsburgh scary character.
And after that they commanded, "Tell us about the murderer with the hook!"
Finally my baby cousin took over and told this scary and horrible story about a toddler's family murdered by a ghost. Here I am trying to make sure that these children can sleep and they are more disturbed than I could ever believe. But it made me chuckle. Perhaps kids can handle more than we think.
It is a charming paradox. On one hand, they waited patiently for the Easter Bunny and begged their parents to go to the mall for the photo. On the other hand, they want more blood, guts, and gore. I dunno, kids these days.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 31, 2013
Jesus is Black
Over the years I grew up in a church and we had a white Jesus. Despite the gap in the story about his skin color I bought it. After all, in Sunday school and such it was like Jesus loves you now go and color. More like white Jesus loves you. Our hymns havent been updated since the Dark Ages. That is what gets me about the Roman Catholic Church. Our pope is a raging homophobe who is anti-woman to boot, but they are changing some of the responses like that is the big problem and not the pedophile priests. I digress though.
I remember the first time I saw a black Jesus. I was a kid and my parents used to get these leaflets from Mary Knoll. When I opened it I saw a black Jesus. This distressed me. Jesus was fair. Looking back he would have burnt in that hot Middle Eastern sun. Actually he would have blistered like I often do. Me and my fair Jesus baking an dying. Nevermind a dying on the cross. Jesus was going to get heat stroke and in those days they didn't have sun block.
My mother explained Jesus was in their likeness and according to them Jesus was black. There was nothing wrong with it she explained. And it would have made more sense for Jesus to be dark skinned. Still, this was a lot.
Years later, we made friends with a family who were Christian missionaries in Africa. Bringing the word of God to lands torn by famine and war, they rode motorcycles everywhere. I asked if they were scared because missionaries are not often well liked on first arrival. Sometimes they are even killed, and more often than not tortured. They explained, "If you have fear and do not trust God, don't go." They worked amongst the jumping tribe, you know, like the guy in The Air Up There. Anyway they explained that all the Jesus's in those churches were black. I suppose whatever floated their boat, right?
When I got older I delivered a telegram to a black church where I saw a black Jesus for real. I write in my book that I felt Kanye West decorated the place. Personally I began to like the black Jesus depiction a little better. Not only was it more honest and real, but Jesus actually had better abs. He looked like someone who worked with his hands and lived hand to mouth as he was a wanted fugitive from kings. No, not because he was black. Although the hooker gal pal does not help the stereotype and neither does fish eating, but the depiction was more honest. Pat Robertson would have died, and I would have cheered.
I remember visiting a friend's more liberal church, New Light Presbyterian, when he was going to be ordained. In that church God did not have a gender pronoun. For the most part, the church was much more warm and welcoming than the Catholic congregation I grew up in. There was also a large gay and lesbian population. As progressive Christians everyone was welcome as long as they were baptized. I remember once I was talking to a woman and her partner after church about some of the coloring books for the kids and how they were older. They said it was a dead giveaway because Jesus was white.
Over the years I have seen depictions of Jesus as black, white, Asian, Spanish and everything else in between. He's like Madonna, always changing his looks. Wonder that they aren't better friends.
I mean, it's a wonder he doesn't hang out with Bill Clinton too. Jesus could have been classified as a pimp with his hooker girlfriend. Bill Clinton was jokingly referred to as the first black president because he smoked cigars, liked white women with a big booty, and not to mention played the sax.
Who knows? We have a black president now. Perhaps America is finally ready for a black Jesus. As people we all have many colors. Hell, my third cousins are Jewish, part African American, and part Indian. If they want Jesus in their likeness I am for that too.
Happy Easter Everyone!
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I remember the first time I saw a black Jesus. I was a kid and my parents used to get these leaflets from Mary Knoll. When I opened it I saw a black Jesus. This distressed me. Jesus was fair. Looking back he would have burnt in that hot Middle Eastern sun. Actually he would have blistered like I often do. Me and my fair Jesus baking an dying. Nevermind a dying on the cross. Jesus was going to get heat stroke and in those days they didn't have sun block.
My mother explained Jesus was in their likeness and according to them Jesus was black. There was nothing wrong with it she explained. And it would have made more sense for Jesus to be dark skinned. Still, this was a lot.
Years later, we made friends with a family who were Christian missionaries in Africa. Bringing the word of God to lands torn by famine and war, they rode motorcycles everywhere. I asked if they were scared because missionaries are not often well liked on first arrival. Sometimes they are even killed, and more often than not tortured. They explained, "If you have fear and do not trust God, don't go." They worked amongst the jumping tribe, you know, like the guy in The Air Up There. Anyway they explained that all the Jesus's in those churches were black. I suppose whatever floated their boat, right?
When I got older I delivered a telegram to a black church where I saw a black Jesus for real. I write in my book that I felt Kanye West decorated the place. Personally I began to like the black Jesus depiction a little better. Not only was it more honest and real, but Jesus actually had better abs. He looked like someone who worked with his hands and lived hand to mouth as he was a wanted fugitive from kings. No, not because he was black. Although the hooker gal pal does not help the stereotype and neither does fish eating, but the depiction was more honest. Pat Robertson would have died, and I would have cheered.
I remember visiting a friend's more liberal church, New Light Presbyterian, when he was going to be ordained. In that church God did not have a gender pronoun. For the most part, the church was much more warm and welcoming than the Catholic congregation I grew up in. There was also a large gay and lesbian population. As progressive Christians everyone was welcome as long as they were baptized. I remember once I was talking to a woman and her partner after church about some of the coloring books for the kids and how they were older. They said it was a dead giveaway because Jesus was white.
Over the years I have seen depictions of Jesus as black, white, Asian, Spanish and everything else in between. He's like Madonna, always changing his looks. Wonder that they aren't better friends.
I mean, it's a wonder he doesn't hang out with Bill Clinton too. Jesus could have been classified as a pimp with his hooker girlfriend. Bill Clinton was jokingly referred to as the first black president because he smoked cigars, liked white women with a big booty, and not to mention played the sax.
Who knows? We have a black president now. Perhaps America is finally ready for a black Jesus. As people we all have many colors. Hell, my third cousins are Jewish, part African American, and part Indian. If they want Jesus in their likeness I am for that too.
Happy Easter Everyone!
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 30, 2013
A Sweet Story
My grandmother recently passed. I miss her because she was so funny. I wasn't in town for the funeral but am in town this week. The first holiday without the deceased loved one is always the hardest. Anyway, we were talking about who was at the funeral.
Some of my aunt's former boyfriend's came, they had jobs and treated her kind so of course she wasn't marrying them anytime soon. Then my uncle's former girlfriend came and made things interesting with this wife, but alas, we don't like his wife. And then my great aunt's ex husband who cheated on her showed up. He still comes to family reunions despite the fact everyone hates him. Maybe he wants free food, I dunno.
One surprise visitor was in fact my cousin whom I will call Deke. A prep school kid, Deke was a tad bit spoiled. Not that my idiot aunt and her husband who claimed to make an obscene amount of money helped. Anyway, Deke had wanted to go to a party and his parents didnt let him. So they were in the car arguing and that is when Deke jumped out of the car. He suffered brain damage, and lost his ability to taste spicey food. And not to mention got some serious anger management issues. Shortly thereafter, Deke had a girlfriend who was stupid and spoiled like he was. Well she wanted to break up and Deke was not hearing of it. Brain damaged, Deke somehow got a hold of a gun and held her hostage for several hours. The authorities did not look kindly upon this and locked him up. I know, it's just a felony right?
Well my aunt being a neglegent mother said it was the criminal gene, not her shiteous parenting. They emancipated Deke, not just to wash their hands of him but to save money because in the state of PA the families have to pay for the incarcerated kiddies.
Well Deke got out, got a new girlfriend, and had a baby. The child is currently missing one foot. But Deke has grown up. He supports the child by working part time as a used car salesman and part time as a lab test subject.
I met Deke a few times. While he is obviously insane and I would probably never actually let him know where I live, he seemed nice enough.
Deke came to the funeral. Anyway the story he told was that when he was locked up no one wrote to him. His parents washed their hands of him. But there was one person who remembered him. That was my grandmother. She sent him several letters a week. Deke often looked forward to my grandmother's letters. Not only because they were funny and sweet, but also because it meant someone on the outside was there for him, wasn't judging him. It meant that he still mattered. Sure, his own mother didnt want him. His father was useless. His other brother was a goofball. The youngest, the so called brain, went to school on ROTC and never speaks to his family, wonder why, but my grandmother let Deke know he wasn't a bad person trying to get good but a sick person trying to get well. And for as crazy as Deke is and for as much as he barely has it together, he remembered my grandmother's kind deed. He knew what it was like to be down and knew my grandmother was a friend. And a friend is someone who is kind to you when life isn't.
I guess that's why I write to my buddy in jail (I haven't been good because I have been busy) and even paid him a visit. It's because maybe he made his mistakes with drugs but in the end, he is still my buddy. He still has a good heart. He took a wrong turn. We all take wrong turns. But there is a difference between a bad decision and a bad person. I think my grandmother knew that. And I think that's where I get that from. My boy said he would never forget me visiting him in jail. Now I believe him. I hope he doesn't have to go to my funeral to tell the story though. But my mother would probably have a heart attack if any one of us told her. Sigh....
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Some of my aunt's former boyfriend's came, they had jobs and treated her kind so of course she wasn't marrying them anytime soon. Then my uncle's former girlfriend came and made things interesting with this wife, but alas, we don't like his wife. And then my great aunt's ex husband who cheated on her showed up. He still comes to family reunions despite the fact everyone hates him. Maybe he wants free food, I dunno.
One surprise visitor was in fact my cousin whom I will call Deke. A prep school kid, Deke was a tad bit spoiled. Not that my idiot aunt and her husband who claimed to make an obscene amount of money helped. Anyway, Deke had wanted to go to a party and his parents didnt let him. So they were in the car arguing and that is when Deke jumped out of the car. He suffered brain damage, and lost his ability to taste spicey food. And not to mention got some serious anger management issues. Shortly thereafter, Deke had a girlfriend who was stupid and spoiled like he was. Well she wanted to break up and Deke was not hearing of it. Brain damaged, Deke somehow got a hold of a gun and held her hostage for several hours. The authorities did not look kindly upon this and locked him up. I know, it's just a felony right?
Well my aunt being a neglegent mother said it was the criminal gene, not her shiteous parenting. They emancipated Deke, not just to wash their hands of him but to save money because in the state of PA the families have to pay for the incarcerated kiddies.
Well Deke got out, got a new girlfriend, and had a baby. The child is currently missing one foot. But Deke has grown up. He supports the child by working part time as a used car salesman and part time as a lab test subject.
I met Deke a few times. While he is obviously insane and I would probably never actually let him know where I live, he seemed nice enough.
Deke came to the funeral. Anyway the story he told was that when he was locked up no one wrote to him. His parents washed their hands of him. But there was one person who remembered him. That was my grandmother. She sent him several letters a week. Deke often looked forward to my grandmother's letters. Not only because they were funny and sweet, but also because it meant someone on the outside was there for him, wasn't judging him. It meant that he still mattered. Sure, his own mother didnt want him. His father was useless. His other brother was a goofball. The youngest, the so called brain, went to school on ROTC and never speaks to his family, wonder why, but my grandmother let Deke know he wasn't a bad person trying to get good but a sick person trying to get well. And for as crazy as Deke is and for as much as he barely has it together, he remembered my grandmother's kind deed. He knew what it was like to be down and knew my grandmother was a friend. And a friend is someone who is kind to you when life isn't.
I guess that's why I write to my buddy in jail (I haven't been good because I have been busy) and even paid him a visit. It's because maybe he made his mistakes with drugs but in the end, he is still my buddy. He still has a good heart. He took a wrong turn. We all take wrong turns. But there is a difference between a bad decision and a bad person. I think my grandmother knew that. And I think that's where I get that from. My boy said he would never forget me visiting him in jail. Now I believe him. I hope he doesn't have to go to my funeral to tell the story though. But my mother would probably have a heart attack if any one of us told her. Sigh....
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 29, 2013
"Jesus is on the Cross"
When I was a kid Good Friday was a big deal in my house. In subsequent years it ceased to matter as I became more secular. While I still say a prayer or try to do something it's not like it was when I was a kid. It was Bible Reading and fasting and by the way, of course you are eating fish. Not to mention no television or radio from 1-3.
One year, I think I was about seven or something, my brother Wendell was downstairs. I turned on the TV. Wendell took the clicker-now I am dating myself-and turned it off. I took the clicker and turned the TV back on. There were trash talk shows to be watched and/or cartoons. Wendell then took the clicker and turned it off again. This is how the exchange went:
Wendell: Stop being an ass clown, Dad says we can't watch TV.
Me: Screw you. I am watching TV and don't call me ass clown you idiot.
Wendell: No, you are the ass clown and idiot. We can't watch TV because Jesus is on the cross.
Me: Jesus isn't on the cross. That happened a few million years ago. He got off, was buried and rose from the dead like some zombie. I don't think he would mind if we watched TV.
Wendell: Dad would care though and he is upstairs.
Me: Good point.
Wendell: Besides, we only have two more hours.
Fast forward almost twenty years later. This morning my mom and I were running errands. We are in the car debating about what my sister Skipper and my dad are doing. My mom says, "I hope they arent reading the Bible or something."
"Knowing Dad, he wouldnt be watching TV." I said. But on the other hand, as I have aged my pops has softened. Who knows? Sure enough we got home and they were watching TV. And they were watching Payback with Mel Gibson Pre-Nervous Breakdown.
We had a fish lunch, cause some things haven't changed. After lunch I announced I was going for a run. This was the exchange between me and my dad.
Dad: Well it's after three. I suppose it's okay.
Me: Dad, I hate to break it to you but you were watching TV.
Dad: Well uh-
Me: See, Jesus was on the cross dad.
Dad: Well-
Me: Either way I think we all have sinned today and let's just have some fish and not worry about it. But we can agree on one thing, Jesus likes a good shoot em up.
Dad: Good point. Now enjoy your run.
Sigh, religion and it's crazy rules. Now off to sacrifice some goats. Tonight I will be watching some Biblical movie cause that is what they have on and see some scantily clad woman lead a man to his doom. Then afterwards I will pray to Baal. Not that he has any real power, he is just the understudy for God and every once in a while he deserves a curtain call or a night to perform. I dunno, just sounded funny...
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
One year, I think I was about seven or something, my brother Wendell was downstairs. I turned on the TV. Wendell took the clicker-now I am dating myself-and turned it off. I took the clicker and turned the TV back on. There were trash talk shows to be watched and/or cartoons. Wendell then took the clicker and turned it off again. This is how the exchange went:
Wendell: Stop being an ass clown, Dad says we can't watch TV.
Me: Screw you. I am watching TV and don't call me ass clown you idiot.
Wendell: No, you are the ass clown and idiot. We can't watch TV because Jesus is on the cross.
Me: Jesus isn't on the cross. That happened a few million years ago. He got off, was buried and rose from the dead like some zombie. I don't think he would mind if we watched TV.
Wendell: Dad would care though and he is upstairs.
Me: Good point.
Wendell: Besides, we only have two more hours.
Fast forward almost twenty years later. This morning my mom and I were running errands. We are in the car debating about what my sister Skipper and my dad are doing. My mom says, "I hope they arent reading the Bible or something."
"Knowing Dad, he wouldnt be watching TV." I said. But on the other hand, as I have aged my pops has softened. Who knows? Sure enough we got home and they were watching TV. And they were watching Payback with Mel Gibson Pre-Nervous Breakdown.
We had a fish lunch, cause some things haven't changed. After lunch I announced I was going for a run. This was the exchange between me and my dad.
Dad: Well it's after three. I suppose it's okay.
Me: Dad, I hate to break it to you but you were watching TV.
Dad: Well uh-
Me: See, Jesus was on the cross dad.
Dad: Well-
Me: Either way I think we all have sinned today and let's just have some fish and not worry about it. But we can agree on one thing, Jesus likes a good shoot em up.
Dad: Good point. Now enjoy your run.
Sigh, religion and it's crazy rules. Now off to sacrifice some goats. Tonight I will be watching some Biblical movie cause that is what they have on and see some scantily clad woman lead a man to his doom. Then afterwards I will pray to Baal. Not that he has any real power, he is just the understudy for God and every once in a while he deserves a curtain call or a night to perform. I dunno, just sounded funny...
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 27, 2013
Work Hard For Your Money (Donna Summer)
Scene opens. I am walking down the street. I see my friend Tommy. I have not seen Tommy for sometime. We make small talk and such. After all, it has been a while.
Just then a homeless, toothless man approaches.
Homeless Man: She is so pretty.
Me: Thank you
Homeless Man: You are one very lucky man, Sir.
Tommy and I exchange an ironic glance seeing that Tommy is gay.
Homeless Man: She is so pretty, that is she were a picture I would paint it.
Homeless Man takes my hand and kisses it. Ordinarily I would have been flattered but I have no idea where his mouth has been.
Tommy and I exchange a glance
Homeless Man: I haven't had anything to eat today. Could you spare some change? Any change? I am not buying drugs or anything.
Tommy: Here is fifty cents, it is all the change I have.
Me: Here is seventy five cents.
Homeless Man: Thank you! You are a lucky man to have such a beautiful angel.
Homeless man exits. Tommy and I laugh.
Me: Not buying drugs my ass. I have five dollars. I was not financing his crack habit.
Tommy: Yeah, he's going to buy crack. But he was working it. I will give him that.
Me: I was feeling ugly today. So now I have some self esteem.
Tommy: Well there you go.
End scene
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Just then a homeless, toothless man approaches.
Homeless Man: She is so pretty.
Me: Thank you
Homeless Man: You are one very lucky man, Sir.
Tommy and I exchange an ironic glance seeing that Tommy is gay.
Homeless Man: She is so pretty, that is she were a picture I would paint it.
Homeless Man takes my hand and kisses it. Ordinarily I would have been flattered but I have no idea where his mouth has been.
Tommy and I exchange a glance
Homeless Man: I haven't had anything to eat today. Could you spare some change? Any change? I am not buying drugs or anything.
Tommy: Here is fifty cents, it is all the change I have.
Me: Here is seventy five cents.
Homeless Man: Thank you! You are a lucky man to have such a beautiful angel.
Homeless man exits. Tommy and I laugh.
Me: Not buying drugs my ass. I have five dollars. I was not financing his crack habit.
Tommy: Yeah, he's going to buy crack. But he was working it. I will give him that.
Me: I was feeling ugly today. So now I have some self esteem.
Tommy: Well there you go.
End scene
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 26, 2013
The True Story of the Easter Bunny
They say Easter is about Jesus but that is simply not true. It is about the Easter Bunny. In all reality, Easter began much differently. Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a race. Jesus had just risen from the tomb and wanted a holiday because he was a rich kid who did what zombies do all the time-come back from the dead. Much like any rich kid, what he asked for he pretty much got. The zombies of the land were upset about this because they did this every Sunday afternoon. Because Jesus had a rich father he could do this once and get all the credit just like Elvis did for rock ‘n’ roll. Not to mention his Good Friday Show left his soul intact so he was hungry for regular food rather than flesh of passing humans, which depending on the diet of the victim can be rather bitter. The zombies took their complaint to a local ground hog named Puxsutawney Phil. This great manimal often predicted the changes of the seasons so he was the one to solve this conflict. The ground hog interpreter, a man who drank all day and could not hold a job as he enjoyed wine and woman, said the ground hog did not see his shadow so there would be an early spring. And just then a rabbit hopped by. That is when Phil went and made a ground hog noise. The ground hog interpreter said he now had the answer for the zombies. Jesus would race the rabbit, because none of the zombies could. It being because they did not come from rich parentage, therefore their undead limbs would fall off if they had a physical workout that was too taxing. A rabbit was able bodied, however. If the rabbit won, Jesus would have to fade into obscurity and stop hacking off of zombie past times. If Jesus won, the zombies would have to stop ripping on him and treat him as an equal as far as the rising from the dead accomplishment went.The rabbit recruited was named Cadberry. He was a good rabbit, a God fearing rabbit, and entrapped into this drama when the zombies threatened to drink the blood and eat his rabbit family. The zombies promised if he won they would get him an endorsement deal on behalf of Jesus. Cadberry had about thirty rabbit children to feed in his hutch so he agreed to the race. Not to mention a nagging wife who made a lot of droppings and nothing else. The two were at the starting line on that fateful day. Jesus had his hooker girlfriend crying as usual because she had daddy issues. Cadberry had the zombies snacking on a dog who had wandered by because food was scarce this time of year for the undead. Thus the drama began. Jesus raced his heart out, but unfortunately dying and coming back from the dead makes someone weak, even if they are the son of a very powerful man. Human flesh does have it’s vitamins and nutrient benefits. So while Jesus, being superhuman, was leading for the first half of the race, the second half saw his limbs growing numb cause even though his dad is loaded they are still dead dude limbs. Cadberry however, who was behind, feared for his poor rabbit family, and raced his little heart out. As the two crossed the finish line Jesus and Cadberry were neck and neck. And then as the rope broke there was a tie. Jesus was a little worn out seeing that he had only died a few days earlier. But as there was confusion for the tie breaker, they looked over and saw that Cadberry had dropped dead. Trying to please the zombies and feed his family while keeping up with a super human who had an unfair advantage had made his poor little body give out. The zombies grieved Cadberry and tried scheming to give him some leftover human flesh in their supply house. However, Jesus figured that he could do a magic trick or miracle as they call it in the Bible. So he snapped his fingers and Cadberry came alive. Jesus also had a proposition. He would give the zombies their street cred and in turn, Cadberry could be their representative if they had any concerns for his well connected Pops like perhaps the placement of their souls so they could rest as well as Zombie Rights in general. Up to this point, that is until Jesus v. Cadberry, the undead had never had rights and now they did. Cadberry then became Jesus’s pet bunny and had enough dough to support his little rabbit family. That is the true story of the Easter Bunny.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Copycat
This is about a girl who makes things up in order to get people to read her shitty poety and listen to her shitty singing. She thinks it's turning heads but she has literally borrowed her life from TV movies and books. I know, because I know my TV movies and books. I have never met anyone more pathetic and phony in my life. So I wrote a poem about her, actually all the wannabes I ever met rather. Here it is.
A wannabe artistWho owns a catOne has a litterboxSincere it it’s feline exploitsThe other insincereNot real, pure fiction
Science fictionAn experiment gone wrongA sad, long funeral songTo an identity she never hadAnd now wantonly steals
First a blondeNow a red headWhatever gets you in bedWith the phony manWho gives you the phony lie you desire
Will you be the beautiful lady you desire?The girl they all admire?As you make up another tale for saleWith the angst you claim you haveWith your made up backstory sans publicist?
What is this, the bipolar mother?The lazy genius father?Not true, why botherTo clear up the inconsistenciesIn your story?
My family insanity you whineAs you down it with another glass of wineMaybe you will drink yourself into obscurityBecause it takes talent to write poetrySomething you don’t have
You pray it will make you a popular writerYou hope it will make you a popular singerAs they say you are a dead ringer For that girl and her stylePerhaps the next big thing.
Maybe it will make you popular behind the micTelling jokes, slamming wordsWhatever you likeTo boost your lack of self worthBut that too involves talent
Picked on in school, now were you?Despite being tall and modelesqueThat was your fateYou never struggled with your weightThis too is your borrowed tale.
What about your blemished skin?Unless it was a blotchy disgraceAs you covered your faceBut you are as smooth as a baby’s bottomActually, you are an ass.
Rough neighborhood oh you did that too?I guess there were a thousand tales like itThen there was youRich friend let you borrow her addressAnd then gave you money like Pip in Great Expectations.
A life put together like a trash novelReady to sell for a dime on the shelfBorrowed stories from othersBecause it is too hard to be yourselfIn this mish mash called life.
A guy who chews you like gum because that’s all you areSpits you out like dollar store food because that is who you areOnce Coney Island White TrashAlways the member of the lower classAlways on the bottom of my boot like soot
And we all know it including your manDirtier and more useless than old cleaning socksStomp you into the litter boxAs you try to be like Robert FrostNow go die a borrowed death as he rolls in his grave.
A wannabe artistWho owns a catOne has a litterboxSincere it it’s feline exploitsThe other insincereNot real, pure fiction
Science fictionAn experiment gone wrongA sad, long funeral songTo an identity she never hadAnd now wantonly steals
First a blondeNow a red headWhatever gets you in bedWith the phony manWho gives you the phony lie you desire
Will you be the beautiful lady you desire?The girl they all admire?As you make up another tale for saleWith the angst you claim you haveWith your made up backstory sans publicist?
What is this, the bipolar mother?The lazy genius father?Not true, why botherTo clear up the inconsistenciesIn your story?
My family insanity you whineAs you down it with another glass of wineMaybe you will drink yourself into obscurityBecause it takes talent to write poetrySomething you don’t have
You pray it will make you a popular writerYou hope it will make you a popular singerAs they say you are a dead ringer For that girl and her stylePerhaps the next big thing.
Maybe it will make you popular behind the micTelling jokes, slamming wordsWhatever you likeTo boost your lack of self worthBut that too involves talent
Picked on in school, now were you?Despite being tall and modelesqueThat was your fateYou never struggled with your weightThis too is your borrowed tale.
What about your blemished skin?Unless it was a blotchy disgraceAs you covered your faceBut you are as smooth as a baby’s bottomActually, you are an ass.
Rough neighborhood oh you did that too?I guess there were a thousand tales like itThen there was youRich friend let you borrow her addressAnd then gave you money like Pip in Great Expectations.
A life put together like a trash novelReady to sell for a dime on the shelfBorrowed stories from othersBecause it is too hard to be yourselfIn this mish mash called life.
A guy who chews you like gum because that’s all you areSpits you out like dollar store food because that is who you areOnce Coney Island White TrashAlways the member of the lower classAlways on the bottom of my boot like soot
And we all know it including your manDirtier and more useless than old cleaning socksStomp you into the litter boxAs you try to be like Robert FrostNow go die a borrowed death as he rolls in his grave.
Ivy League Baby!
Yesterday I found out I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl got accepted as a part of the collection in Brown University Bookstore. This came after a hellacious week where my grandmother passed and I was sick. A good beginning to a good week. I will have to say I love Brown University kids because they are compassionate, creative, bright, and think outside of the box. Not to mention hard working. I am flattered and amazed to be a part of such a wonderful collection.
Now this takes away the blow that my crush blew me off. Not to mention things are starting to open up for me. I am so excited. This weekend I am seeing my family which is also exciting. Oh did I mention I might be doing a book talk there too?
Ivy League Baby!
Yes, in between Brown University Bookstore and Mensa it is true, I is a tuttle geniuz.
On a serious note I am in the music section.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Now this takes away the blow that my crush blew me off. Not to mention things are starting to open up for me. I am so excited. This weekend I am seeing my family which is also exciting. Oh did I mention I might be doing a book talk there too?
Ivy League Baby!
Yes, in between Brown University Bookstore and Mensa it is true, I is a tuttle geniuz.
On a serious note I am in the music section.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 25, 2013
Just A Little Crush (Jennifer Paige)
I am still somewhat injured over the perceived rejection of my crush. Nevermind he had no idea how I felt. We had a flirty relationship for sometime but still he should have gotten the memo. But yeah, he had a job, a career, a future and a great personality. So of course he wouldn't want me. Most of the dudes who like me are mandated to some twelve step group(not that it is bad if they are working the program) and have other mental health issues that are outstanding. One time an old boyfriend of mine even stabbed someone. I know how to pick em, right?
I just went and was like, "DUHHHH!!!!" It never ends well with me and crushes. It never has anything to do with me never telling them how I feel. They should be able to read my mind. After they read my mind they should show up on a steed by my balcony ready to serenade me. Then we will ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. It never happens that way. Sometimes they become who they are, as in if they were a pizza they would be Assweed Supremo with a side of breadsticks. Or sometimes they have things like wives and girlfriends and want to stay faithful. Or they cannot fathom my devotion to my puppet children.
I remember having a crush in high school where not once but twice the dude didnt return the favor. The first time I though he did but he liked a friend of mine instead. We are still friends to this day and laugh about it now. And then the second time the guy acted like he had been told he had rabies and they were going to have to shoot him on the spot. He is now married to someone else but decided to make the grand return when my puppet babies and I made national television many a time.
After that was my first year of college when I crushed on an dude who was a third year and made myself look utterly pathetic on several occasions. I did think he liked me though. I mean, the dude did invite me to not one but two parties as his guest. He seemed nice enough and I thought maybe he dug me and my terrible clothing. However the straw that broke the camels back was when I met him on the street, walked with him in the rain because he invited me to do so.And when we got to his house rather than call me a cab or an umbrella he sent me home in the monsoon. To make matters worse he was slated to be a huge star and I was barely academically eligible. But the tables have turned. Now he has no career and look at me and my puppet babies and my book. Needless to say, he is not happy about it. Because the moron signed on another an assumed name and totally trashed me on a gossip site insisting I followed him home. He wishes I made his life scary. Especially since his current girlfriend is FAT. And to think I worshiped him from afar. Sigh....
Now this dude that was my crush totally didn't return the favor. But he is ultra perceptive. I mean he doesn't miss a beat plus he is funny as hell. It wouldn't have worked out. I couldn't have lied to him and cut him out of my life in certain respects like I typically do to my boyfriends. He would have wanted to know about the career and I would have had to tell him. Then I would just have to disappear on him eventually because he would want me to be his girlfriend and wouldn't want me to see other people and wouldn't understand that I have commitment issues. Not to mention he might have a thing or two to say about the wedding I planned in my mind. But the wedding was planned before he even spoke. McSigh Sigh.
This morning I found out the low cut wearing badly dyed blonde thing is his new girlfriend. Okay whatever. Live happily ever after with your stupid cow. I wrote a book. She can't even say her ABCs. I don't even know her then again. Just wishing them both a death from death in my mind. But don't worry I have dumped them both in my mind and now I wish them well.
Either way I just miss Holden. I hate drugs, mental illness, and addiction and how they just fucking destroy. They took the only man I ever loved from my arms.
Off to possibly see if Errant Hottie Lifeguard is working at the pool today. He is such a terrible decision but so much fun. Note, he is for entertainment purposes only.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I just went and was like, "DUHHHH!!!!" It never ends well with me and crushes. It never has anything to do with me never telling them how I feel. They should be able to read my mind. After they read my mind they should show up on a steed by my balcony ready to serenade me. Then we will ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. It never happens that way. Sometimes they become who they are, as in if they were a pizza they would be Assweed Supremo with a side of breadsticks. Or sometimes they have things like wives and girlfriends and want to stay faithful. Or they cannot fathom my devotion to my puppet children.
I remember having a crush in high school where not once but twice the dude didnt return the favor. The first time I though he did but he liked a friend of mine instead. We are still friends to this day and laugh about it now. And then the second time the guy acted like he had been told he had rabies and they were going to have to shoot him on the spot. He is now married to someone else but decided to make the grand return when my puppet babies and I made national television many a time.
After that was my first year of college when I crushed on an dude who was a third year and made myself look utterly pathetic on several occasions. I did think he liked me though. I mean, the dude did invite me to not one but two parties as his guest. He seemed nice enough and I thought maybe he dug me and my terrible clothing. However the straw that broke the camels back was when I met him on the street, walked with him in the rain because he invited me to do so.And when we got to his house rather than call me a cab or an umbrella he sent me home in the monsoon. To make matters worse he was slated to be a huge star and I was barely academically eligible. But the tables have turned. Now he has no career and look at me and my puppet babies and my book. Needless to say, he is not happy about it. Because the moron signed on another an assumed name and totally trashed me on a gossip site insisting I followed him home. He wishes I made his life scary. Especially since his current girlfriend is FAT. And to think I worshiped him from afar. Sigh....
Now this dude that was my crush totally didn't return the favor. But he is ultra perceptive. I mean he doesn't miss a beat plus he is funny as hell. It wouldn't have worked out. I couldn't have lied to him and cut him out of my life in certain respects like I typically do to my boyfriends. He would have wanted to know about the career and I would have had to tell him. Then I would just have to disappear on him eventually because he would want me to be his girlfriend and wouldn't want me to see other people and wouldn't understand that I have commitment issues. Not to mention he might have a thing or two to say about the wedding I planned in my mind. But the wedding was planned before he even spoke. McSigh Sigh.
This morning I found out the low cut wearing badly dyed blonde thing is his new girlfriend. Okay whatever. Live happily ever after with your stupid cow. I wrote a book. She can't even say her ABCs. I don't even know her then again. Just wishing them both a death from death in my mind. But don't worry I have dumped them both in my mind and now I wish them well.
Either way I just miss Holden. I hate drugs, mental illness, and addiction and how they just fucking destroy. They took the only man I ever loved from my arms.
Off to possibly see if Errant Hottie Lifeguard is working at the pool today. He is such a terrible decision but so much fun. Note, he is for entertainment purposes only.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 24, 2013
Asinine Dribble on a Sunday Night
Today I went to the studio to record. I am sure Archie and Anthony are glad my audiobook is almost done. While they probably enjoy my company, my voice that sounds like a mix of Minnie Mouse and Mae West with a bizarre twang from no where is haunting their dreams. I can see it now, they are taking their one day of sleep and there they hear my voice as they close their eyes. And there I am in my usual recording studio clothes, sweats and looking like I rolled out of bed. Actually most of the time I have.
During one of my many pee breaks which I take a ton cause all I do is drink coffee, tea, and water, especially now that I have been sick, I saw this hottie female artist coming in. I mean, she looked good. She was all bestyled and slick. Immediately in my brain I called her every terrible name in the book for looking so hot. I mean, I am there to work not to get a date but still I felt like the fat chick in seventh grade again. In my head I assured myself she wasn't as smart and as funny as I was. Ripping her up in my head felt good. Did she know I went to NYU? Did she know I wrote a damn book that was reviewed by Mensa? Did she know I was a smart woman who needed no man unlike this thing who probably manipulated men.
I took a deep breath and told myself to stop being such a bad clothes wearing, bitchy, smarter than the rest of the world, female writer. Women are terrible when it comes to each other. A minute later I introduced myself and spoke to her for a few minutes. She was really sweet. My bet is she has a great voice and will make a great record. Where was this terrible wench coming out of? This girl was perfectly fine. Gosh, when April is all work and no play she can be a very bitter woman. Maybe April the Female Writer is April McNoFun.
After I left the studio I swung by one of my old haunts to see a crush of mine. For weeks I have been making subtle moves to get my attention and he has been all chitty chatty. Needless to say, I was ready to make a move, maybe make a coffee date. That is when I saw him talking to this thing with badly dyed blonde hair and this low cut number. YUCK! I felt like crying on the spot. Then I remembered I never even told him I liked him. OOPS.
It's weird for me when I have a crush. I can never tell someone how I feel. I just want to give them a little note that says: "Do you like me? Check yes, no, or maybe." It is really tough for me to talk to guys. I have always been kind of shy. When I was younger I struggled with my weight and maybe that is it. In middle school I was asked out as a joke and I couldn't believe a guy likes me for real. In high school I lost the weight but wasnt allowed to date, and the one time I got the guts to like a guy he totally didn't return the favor. Then there was the disaster fiance.
Yes, the disaster who was physically abusive as well as verbally and emotionally abusive. The disaster who said me or the puppets. Maybe that is why I hate the way I talk. My ex's friends used to make fun of the way I talked behind my back. Perhaps it's better that Mr. Perfect didn't return the favor. He had a great job and a great personality. I am just one hell of a shy hot mess. People say they wish they saw this side of me more often. But it is painful as hell...
That's when I realized for as much as I crushed on this guy I could never love him because there is a large part of me that still loves Holden. I still dream about him. It was tough to end that. We didn't have a fight. He didn't cheat. He never hit me. No, Holden was sick. He was a drug addict, an alcoholic, and bipolar that wasn't properly treated. Sometimes when I tell people about him they call him names. People say I should forget about him. I remember he texted me and said he had six months clean. Six months clean isn't enough people told me. A year or eighteen months maybe. But you can't help who you love...
I went to the pool to take a swim. When I got there there was a cute lifeguard minding the pool. He looked to be about nineteen or so and had this ten watt smile. I just remember he walks over to tell me the lane is closed. But this is how the exchange went:
Hottie: Excuse me, I am closing this lane.
Me: Duunnnnhhhhhh......Okkkkaaayyyy.
Then as I began my kicking in the pool I passed the hottie several times. He probably had some horrid ring tone on his phone. He probably had some same aged teeny bopper girlfriend who dressed in clothes similiar to that female artist who I hated in my mind but seemed so nice when I spoke to her. Actually his teeny bopper girlfriend was probably a loser. Oh well, in the back of my mind I thought of how to make my move, April "Cougar" Brucker. However, ten years ago I too was a lifeguard. Ten years ago I had dirty old men trying to seduce me into the steam room. Ten years ago I detested men like this. Now my mind was in the gutter. In my mind I had the bravado but as I said I am so shy I wouldn't know how to put the words together. So these are the scenarios I came up with.
Scenario 1- I pretend to be drowning in the pool so he is forced to save me. Then as he is performing rescue breathing I slip him the tongue. Yes, maybe he has the teeny bopper girlfriend but I am a real woman.
Scenario 2- I prance around in a really sexy bikini and bend over as much as possible intriguing his barely legal imagination.
Scenario 3- I actually get the nerve to talk to him and tell him all about my skill as a female writer and a ventriloquist and my singing telegram performing making it painfully desperate that I never get out very much thus scaring him away forever.
Scenario 4-I get out one of my puppets. Here is what the puppet says, "Hey Stud Muffin. April thinks you are really fly. Can she take you out for pizza? Despite our TV time we are really poor, but you are a lifeguard so you are super poor."
I glanced over again. He was texting, eyes off the pool in the event someone was drowning. Needless to say if he worked under my mother he would have probably been canned like Coca Cola. I bet you he was texting, "This weird old ass bitch keeps giving me the eyes. I bet she is desperate and I bet she plays with puppets and writes books and doesn't have a man." Sir, your bet would be correct. Now come to my Cradle of Love in five minutes so I can rock your world.....in my mind.
Okay, I need to stop while I am ahead. But rest assured there will be plenty of freestyle this summer. As I exited he waved goodbye to me and I was turning so red I almost walked into the men's rest room. But ooops, Hottie waved goodbye. Hottie the Errand Lifeguard. Bow Wow Wow. Get a hold of yourself April.
I stripped and went to the sauna. People get buck naked in there. They let the world see everything. Personally, despite some of the photos I have taken I am quite shy. I always put a towel over my lower half. There was one woman in there that was not very good looking. Then another who was hot as hell. The one that was hot as hell intimidated me. She had the perfect body, just like the girl my crush was talking to. Probably just like Hottie the Errant Lifeguard's Girlfriend. Just like that female artist who was so nice but so beautiful. Gosh I had wished she was mean so I could justifiably hate her. And sometimes I just wish I could sit in the corner with my Golden Girls style cheesecake and bury my feelings. Wait, that is what Lifetime Movies are for.
That's when I dried my hair, hid in my sweats, and cried to myself as I left. This guy stuff was too much. Why couldn't they like my sexy brain and creativity? It dresses in hell fire red lingerie all the time. It even comes with whips and chains. April Brucker however does not. She comes with puppets, punchlines, books, and costumes. Okay, it could still be kind of kinky but most of the time I am friend zoned unless the dude has a criminal record, drug issue, or mental health problem.
I went to get my halal food, chicken and rice. The cart has three guys working there and today the best guy was working. He prepared it perfectly. I felt better. Not pretty, not ugly, just tired after a long day in the studio. When I see that female artist I will apologize (in my mind) because now I feel like a totally jealous tool. When I see that ex crush of mine I will wish death upon him (in my mind) even though he and that ho he is cavorting with never knew how I felt. When I see Errant Hottie I will tackle him like a lioness on a fresh piece of meat (in my mind) as I work out like a well behaved health club member.
Sigh, time to do some work.
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
During one of my many pee breaks which I take a ton cause all I do is drink coffee, tea, and water, especially now that I have been sick, I saw this hottie female artist coming in. I mean, she looked good. She was all bestyled and slick. Immediately in my brain I called her every terrible name in the book for looking so hot. I mean, I am there to work not to get a date but still I felt like the fat chick in seventh grade again. In my head I assured myself she wasn't as smart and as funny as I was. Ripping her up in my head felt good. Did she know I went to NYU? Did she know I wrote a damn book that was reviewed by Mensa? Did she know I was a smart woman who needed no man unlike this thing who probably manipulated men.
I took a deep breath and told myself to stop being such a bad clothes wearing, bitchy, smarter than the rest of the world, female writer. Women are terrible when it comes to each other. A minute later I introduced myself and spoke to her for a few minutes. She was really sweet. My bet is she has a great voice and will make a great record. Where was this terrible wench coming out of? This girl was perfectly fine. Gosh, when April is all work and no play she can be a very bitter woman. Maybe April the Female Writer is April McNoFun.
After I left the studio I swung by one of my old haunts to see a crush of mine. For weeks I have been making subtle moves to get my attention and he has been all chitty chatty. Needless to say, I was ready to make a move, maybe make a coffee date. That is when I saw him talking to this thing with badly dyed blonde hair and this low cut number. YUCK! I felt like crying on the spot. Then I remembered I never even told him I liked him. OOPS.
It's weird for me when I have a crush. I can never tell someone how I feel. I just want to give them a little note that says: "Do you like me? Check yes, no, or maybe." It is really tough for me to talk to guys. I have always been kind of shy. When I was younger I struggled with my weight and maybe that is it. In middle school I was asked out as a joke and I couldn't believe a guy likes me for real. In high school I lost the weight but wasnt allowed to date, and the one time I got the guts to like a guy he totally didn't return the favor. Then there was the disaster fiance.
Yes, the disaster who was physically abusive as well as verbally and emotionally abusive. The disaster who said me or the puppets. Maybe that is why I hate the way I talk. My ex's friends used to make fun of the way I talked behind my back. Perhaps it's better that Mr. Perfect didn't return the favor. He had a great job and a great personality. I am just one hell of a shy hot mess. People say they wish they saw this side of me more often. But it is painful as hell...
That's when I realized for as much as I crushed on this guy I could never love him because there is a large part of me that still loves Holden. I still dream about him. It was tough to end that. We didn't have a fight. He didn't cheat. He never hit me. No, Holden was sick. He was a drug addict, an alcoholic, and bipolar that wasn't properly treated. Sometimes when I tell people about him they call him names. People say I should forget about him. I remember he texted me and said he had six months clean. Six months clean isn't enough people told me. A year or eighteen months maybe. But you can't help who you love...
I went to the pool to take a swim. When I got there there was a cute lifeguard minding the pool. He looked to be about nineteen or so and had this ten watt smile. I just remember he walks over to tell me the lane is closed. But this is how the exchange went:
Hottie: Excuse me, I am closing this lane.
Me: Duunnnnhhhhhh......Okkkkaaayyyy.
Then as I began my kicking in the pool I passed the hottie several times. He probably had some horrid ring tone on his phone. He probably had some same aged teeny bopper girlfriend who dressed in clothes similiar to that female artist who I hated in my mind but seemed so nice when I spoke to her. Actually his teeny bopper girlfriend was probably a loser. Oh well, in the back of my mind I thought of how to make my move, April "Cougar" Brucker. However, ten years ago I too was a lifeguard. Ten years ago I had dirty old men trying to seduce me into the steam room. Ten years ago I detested men like this. Now my mind was in the gutter. In my mind I had the bravado but as I said I am so shy I wouldn't know how to put the words together. So these are the scenarios I came up with.
Scenario 1- I pretend to be drowning in the pool so he is forced to save me. Then as he is performing rescue breathing I slip him the tongue. Yes, maybe he has the teeny bopper girlfriend but I am a real woman.
Scenario 2- I prance around in a really sexy bikini and bend over as much as possible intriguing his barely legal imagination.
Scenario 3- I actually get the nerve to talk to him and tell him all about my skill as a female writer and a ventriloquist and my singing telegram performing making it painfully desperate that I never get out very much thus scaring him away forever.
Scenario 4-I get out one of my puppets. Here is what the puppet says, "Hey Stud Muffin. April thinks you are really fly. Can she take you out for pizza? Despite our TV time we are really poor, but you are a lifeguard so you are super poor."
I glanced over again. He was texting, eyes off the pool in the event someone was drowning. Needless to say if he worked under my mother he would have probably been canned like Coca Cola. I bet you he was texting, "This weird old ass bitch keeps giving me the eyes. I bet she is desperate and I bet she plays with puppets and writes books and doesn't have a man." Sir, your bet would be correct. Now come to my Cradle of Love in five minutes so I can rock your world.....in my mind.
Okay, I need to stop while I am ahead. But rest assured there will be plenty of freestyle this summer. As I exited he waved goodbye to me and I was turning so red I almost walked into the men's rest room. But ooops, Hottie waved goodbye. Hottie the Errand Lifeguard. Bow Wow Wow. Get a hold of yourself April.
I stripped and went to the sauna. People get buck naked in there. They let the world see everything. Personally, despite some of the photos I have taken I am quite shy. I always put a towel over my lower half. There was one woman in there that was not very good looking. Then another who was hot as hell. The one that was hot as hell intimidated me. She had the perfect body, just like the girl my crush was talking to. Probably just like Hottie the Errant Lifeguard's Girlfriend. Just like that female artist who was so nice but so beautiful. Gosh I had wished she was mean so I could justifiably hate her. And sometimes I just wish I could sit in the corner with my Golden Girls style cheesecake and bury my feelings. Wait, that is what Lifetime Movies are for.
That's when I dried my hair, hid in my sweats, and cried to myself as I left. This guy stuff was too much. Why couldn't they like my sexy brain and creativity? It dresses in hell fire red lingerie all the time. It even comes with whips and chains. April Brucker however does not. She comes with puppets, punchlines, books, and costumes. Okay, it could still be kind of kinky but most of the time I am friend zoned unless the dude has a criminal record, drug issue, or mental health problem.
I went to get my halal food, chicken and rice. The cart has three guys working there and today the best guy was working. He prepared it perfectly. I felt better. Not pretty, not ugly, just tired after a long day in the studio. When I see that female artist I will apologize (in my mind) because now I feel like a totally jealous tool. When I see that ex crush of mine I will wish death upon him (in my mind) even though he and that ho he is cavorting with never knew how I felt. When I see Errant Hottie I will tackle him like a lioness on a fresh piece of meat (in my mind) as I work out like a well behaved health club member.
Sigh, time to do some work.
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
