April E. Brucker's Blog, page 65
December 28, 2012
Messy Hair....
Yesterday morning started with a temporary crown on my tooth. Yes, me going to the dentist and him sticking a needle in my palate, actually two. Then they tried to ply my other temporary thingie off with pliers and when that didnt work they drilled. Despite the numbing it still hurt because it is your freaking nerve. Anyway, they also made me put this thing in my mouth for five minutes. YUCK! After that I went to the rest room because mind you it wasnt even nine in the morning yet when they were doing this. I looked in my mouth and my toof was gone!!!!! I say toof because I feel like the Jamie Foxx character from In Loving Color, the boxer who's name slips my mind. I freaked the hell out! Needless to say they assured me I was getting a temporary crown. So my toof looks almost normal. I just can't chew anything sticky or chew iced cubes. Well they didnt tell me how limited my diet would be. Yesterday was spent living on chili.
Where are Jack and Diane with their chili dogs when you need them under the shady tree? Oops, I wasnt able to eat hot dogs.
My book talk was scheduled last night and it seemed I had all the elements working against me. The day before there was a giant snow storm and the whole town looked like a winter wonderland. A winter wonderland is fun to look at and sled in, but you forget it is a bitch to shovel. Not to mention Mema Ralph had chest pains and had to go to the hospital.
In the end it all worked out. My book talk had a good turn out. I had twenty six people there. Some had read the book and were asking all sorts of questions. Some had not. It was nice to see Becky Sedlock again. It had been a while since I had seen her. She seems to be doing well, about ready to buy her first house. Becky was all grown up. Her brother got married too, and both her siblings were doing adult things. I was like wow, all these years later it is so cool to see her. Plus it was cool to see the Bulger Bruckers, the Bethel Bruckers, and my Godmama. Did I mention it was awesome to see Baldini?
The talk was a success, and it was nice to be back at Bethel Park Library after all these years. I entered through the door. During my days at the access station I used to enter through the basement, next door to the courthouse and adjacent to the police as well. I was happy with the turn out despite the weather, and we had some press which was mondo McAwesome. Plus May Wilson had a few minutes to shine.
Woman is hard to control. She told Richard Crawdaddy to get well. Baldini was there to record.
Well after the book talk I was dropped back to reality. When I got home the pain set in from the dental work I had done that morning. It was time for Advil and time to eat the chili that would most likely run down my face. Plus I had to pack for an early flight. Then off to La La Land.....
That's when I woke up and things really started to get cray cray. Mema Ralph had been admitted into the ICU that morning and they said they she had flat lined. So we had to wake my dad up to go to the hospital because one of my aunts believed my Mema to possibly be near death or dead. To make matters worse, my dad is not a morning person. So my aunts were asking my sister Skipper who is in medical school what was going on and she was filling them in and mind you this is all before five in the morning.
So we are pretty sad and it is a question of whether we should go back to our cities: me to New York and Skipper to Providence when we receive a phone call from one of my aunts that my Mema Ralph is in fact breathing and she is doing okay. However, this forty-eight hours will be critical. Still, that is a big step up from dead which was good. But Skipper, my mom, and I all just were like, "WOW!!!!" I will be keeping my Mema in my prayers. She is eighty-eight, she hates being in the nursing home, and she just wants to go back to her house. I can understand that. Still this morning was intense, scary, draining, and made me feel like I ran a marathon before 5:30 am.
Skipper of course felt a little sad because this summer she had a patient who seemed fine, an older woman, and her vitals even checked out. As a physician in training, Skipper had told the family the woman was fine and other doctors on the floor had too. Within minutes the woman however, unexpectedly had a complication and died. Skipper who's capacity to feel and care surpasses anyone I have ever met to the point of being slightly codependent was having a flashback of sorts and crying in the airport, overflowing with empathy. I had to give Dr. Sco a hug. Poor little thing.
I found myself wanting to cry myself and then bang my head against the wall. Cry because I am terrified for my Mema Ralph but bang my head against the wall because it is so much at once so early in the morning. Then it occurred to me, my temporary crown may fall out.
Just when I think my morning is over, I get to my gate. The show is over now, right?
Oh no.
A few summers ago I worked retail before graduating from college. There was this horrid woman who worked on display. Her hair was blood red and it looked like it was cut by your local weed whacker. Anyway, she was always trying to get me fired because she was insane. Her husband apparently had just "disappeared." Some say he ran off, I think she killed him. She accused me of wrecking her displays on ten different occasions when I was innocent. Finally one day I just got sick of her and decided I would give McCray Cray something real to cry about. I did by giving her display a huge shove. They fired me.
Well there she was. Her hair was no longer blood red but some disaster combination of highlights and low lights. She had the same crazy eye makeup, and a husband who wore a pink shirt which was too much for me to comprehend that early.
I thought of bitchy things to say. They went as follows:
1. "Remember the time I wrecked your shiteous display? Well I wrote about it in MY BOOK!"
2. It's been a long time. I didnt recognize you with that passable hair. Did they change your meds?
3. Are you still doing display? My friends design displays in New York City. But then again, it actually requires talent to work in that market.
4. I remember when your last husband just disappeared. I am so glad to see that you have moved on.
5. Are you going to Fashion Week? I have been twice. Once with Alex Wang and once with Betsey Johnson. Ooops, you have to be invited.
As I brainstormed bitchy things to say it occurred to me that this woman was not worth my time and energy. While it would be great to get the best of her, the better revenge was living well. She looked like she was painted, a nobody trying to be somebody.
That's when one of Chacho's best quotes popped in my head, "A nobody trying to be somebody is the worst kind of nobody there is."
And that's when another Chacho maneuver came to mind. If this woman were to engage me I would use the, "Excuse me, who are you again? I don't believe I know you." Chacho explained it was the gay beings shady way of dealing with crazy people once.
I didnt need to do it. Instead we met eyes once and she just had this pissed off look in her face, as if she couldnt face me. Or she wanted to chew me out for wrecking her display but knew in her mind she got her medicine and I could serve it up again. Still, it was wild to see someone I rightfully smeared in my book on the flight.
Oye vey. I am back in my city and it is cold as one of the layers of hell in Dante's Inferno.
Traffic was a mess.
I need a day off and it hasn't even started yet.
One more cup of coffee, a bagel, and a brush.
Cause I have messy hair.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Portion of the proceeds go to Sandy Hook Elementary School until January 7, 2013.
Where are Jack and Diane with their chili dogs when you need them under the shady tree? Oops, I wasnt able to eat hot dogs.
My book talk was scheduled last night and it seemed I had all the elements working against me. The day before there was a giant snow storm and the whole town looked like a winter wonderland. A winter wonderland is fun to look at and sled in, but you forget it is a bitch to shovel. Not to mention Mema Ralph had chest pains and had to go to the hospital.
In the end it all worked out. My book talk had a good turn out. I had twenty six people there. Some had read the book and were asking all sorts of questions. Some had not. It was nice to see Becky Sedlock again. It had been a while since I had seen her. She seems to be doing well, about ready to buy her first house. Becky was all grown up. Her brother got married too, and both her siblings were doing adult things. I was like wow, all these years later it is so cool to see her. Plus it was cool to see the Bulger Bruckers, the Bethel Bruckers, and my Godmama. Did I mention it was awesome to see Baldini?
The talk was a success, and it was nice to be back at Bethel Park Library after all these years. I entered through the door. During my days at the access station I used to enter through the basement, next door to the courthouse and adjacent to the police as well. I was happy with the turn out despite the weather, and we had some press which was mondo McAwesome. Plus May Wilson had a few minutes to shine.
Woman is hard to control. She told Richard Crawdaddy to get well. Baldini was there to record.
Well after the book talk I was dropped back to reality. When I got home the pain set in from the dental work I had done that morning. It was time for Advil and time to eat the chili that would most likely run down my face. Plus I had to pack for an early flight. Then off to La La Land.....
That's when I woke up and things really started to get cray cray. Mema Ralph had been admitted into the ICU that morning and they said they she had flat lined. So we had to wake my dad up to go to the hospital because one of my aunts believed my Mema to possibly be near death or dead. To make matters worse, my dad is not a morning person. So my aunts were asking my sister Skipper who is in medical school what was going on and she was filling them in and mind you this is all before five in the morning.
So we are pretty sad and it is a question of whether we should go back to our cities: me to New York and Skipper to Providence when we receive a phone call from one of my aunts that my Mema Ralph is in fact breathing and she is doing okay. However, this forty-eight hours will be critical. Still, that is a big step up from dead which was good. But Skipper, my mom, and I all just were like, "WOW!!!!" I will be keeping my Mema in my prayers. She is eighty-eight, she hates being in the nursing home, and she just wants to go back to her house. I can understand that. Still this morning was intense, scary, draining, and made me feel like I ran a marathon before 5:30 am.
Skipper of course felt a little sad because this summer she had a patient who seemed fine, an older woman, and her vitals even checked out. As a physician in training, Skipper had told the family the woman was fine and other doctors on the floor had too. Within minutes the woman however, unexpectedly had a complication and died. Skipper who's capacity to feel and care surpasses anyone I have ever met to the point of being slightly codependent was having a flashback of sorts and crying in the airport, overflowing with empathy. I had to give Dr. Sco a hug. Poor little thing.
I found myself wanting to cry myself and then bang my head against the wall. Cry because I am terrified for my Mema Ralph but bang my head against the wall because it is so much at once so early in the morning. Then it occurred to me, my temporary crown may fall out.
Just when I think my morning is over, I get to my gate. The show is over now, right?
Oh no.
A few summers ago I worked retail before graduating from college. There was this horrid woman who worked on display. Her hair was blood red and it looked like it was cut by your local weed whacker. Anyway, she was always trying to get me fired because she was insane. Her husband apparently had just "disappeared." Some say he ran off, I think she killed him. She accused me of wrecking her displays on ten different occasions when I was innocent. Finally one day I just got sick of her and decided I would give McCray Cray something real to cry about. I did by giving her display a huge shove. They fired me.
Well there she was. Her hair was no longer blood red but some disaster combination of highlights and low lights. She had the same crazy eye makeup, and a husband who wore a pink shirt which was too much for me to comprehend that early.
I thought of bitchy things to say. They went as follows:
1. "Remember the time I wrecked your shiteous display? Well I wrote about it in MY BOOK!"
2. It's been a long time. I didnt recognize you with that passable hair. Did they change your meds?
3. Are you still doing display? My friends design displays in New York City. But then again, it actually requires talent to work in that market.
4. I remember when your last husband just disappeared. I am so glad to see that you have moved on.
5. Are you going to Fashion Week? I have been twice. Once with Alex Wang and once with Betsey Johnson. Ooops, you have to be invited.
As I brainstormed bitchy things to say it occurred to me that this woman was not worth my time and energy. While it would be great to get the best of her, the better revenge was living well. She looked like she was painted, a nobody trying to be somebody.
That's when one of Chacho's best quotes popped in my head, "A nobody trying to be somebody is the worst kind of nobody there is."
And that's when another Chacho maneuver came to mind. If this woman were to engage me I would use the, "Excuse me, who are you again? I don't believe I know you." Chacho explained it was the gay beings shady way of dealing with crazy people once.
I didnt need to do it. Instead we met eyes once and she just had this pissed off look in her face, as if she couldnt face me. Or she wanted to chew me out for wrecking her display but knew in her mind she got her medicine and I could serve it up again. Still, it was wild to see someone I rightfully smeared in my book on the flight.
Oye vey. I am back in my city and it is cold as one of the layers of hell in Dante's Inferno.
Traffic was a mess.
I need a day off and it hasn't even started yet.
One more cup of coffee, a bagel, and a brush.
Cause I have messy hair.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Portion of the proceeds go to Sandy Hook Elementary School until January 7, 2013.
December 26, 2012
Growing and Changing: My Christmas Blog
Christmas sometimes is a holiday for the young. I guess it is the whole Santa thing. A white haired guy breaks all physical barriers and slides down the chimey despite his size and the fact it killed the girl's father in Gremlins 2. Adults find fault. Children believe readily.
The whole concept of growing and changing started yesterday. My Aunt Jeanie's dog is getting bigger. I mean bear size. Burlgars beware. My cousins Colt and Legran are getting older in school. One injured his foot doing Parkour in the back yard to his mother's chagrin. Then my cousin Mindy announced she was pregnant.
Not just pregnant with one baby but WITH TWINS!!! Wait a hot minute. Does your mother know? Did you tell your husband? I remember when she was a beautiful dancer with city ballet and weight gain let alone pregnancy were the last things she wanted. Now she will be gaining plenty of weight. Now she will be eating all the iced cream and pizza she was never allowed to eat as a dancer. But twins! How time flies. This is insane. I thought it was insane when Wendell married Veronique. Now Wendell is talking about his feelings. This is all too much as my grandparents have not one great grandchild but three.
Meara was with her boyfriend, yes a steady in Georgia. Skipper is graduating medical school and going to be a real doctor. She's bright. She's an adult. But in my eyes she is still my baby sister, slipping in my bed when she has nightmares at seven years old; taking my covers. Kicking me. Being the worst bed fellow ever. But now she is no longer Skipper but Dr. Skipper.
My grandfather got his eyes fixed and he read my whole book. So age is changing some for the better.
On my dad's side my cousin Jayce's boyfriend saw me on Korean TV. I like Brendan. I hope he sticks around. I can wait for a wedding. Jennika also has a boyfriend. She is so young I don't know that it is serious. Mema wants a grandbaby though. Rob Fran, my trumpet playing cousin, released his first album but will probably be a bachelor forever. It's not that he doesn't love you baby, he loves everyone. The curse of those of us born under Libra. My grandma asked me and I was like hell no! Baby would be the last thing I wanted. Then she asked about my cousin Kacie who has been with her boyfriend Mike forever. Oh no. Kacie wants to travel the world and possibly get breast implants because her cousin on the other side did. I think she is a snappy lil number but oh well....
But then she said Kristoff would get married-yes the quiet trombone player in the Notre Dame band. The one Manti T'eo signed the Heisman ball for. And we all burst out laughing. Kacie, Mike and I discussed the wedding. We said it would be a duress, disaster, and a surprise. Who would do such a thing? Not me.
My baby cousin's, all four adopted from Russia, are growing up so quick. I remember them when they were small. They were checking the weather in Moscow. Nineteen degrees. That's warm for this time of year and it is only getting colder. Thank God for America.
My baby cousin Matthew, who I remember when he was little but not so little anymore, made the high school All-Star Team.
My other cousin Jesse and my cousin Apollo danced to a Wii game, while Andre played on his phone. Yes, that is what the kids are getting.
I feel old in some ways. Sophisticated that I am accomplishing things. But still unsure of how to handle this whole grown up thing with dignity and grace. Sometimes it is great to know I have freedom, sometimes it sucks because if I break the law they can stick a needle in my arm-no, not the stuff to get me high. The stuff to kill me. As time flies I want to know what happened to my youth and some of my dreams. Granted, sometimes they were more work than intended but still, what happened to time?
As part of me forges ahead and talks about my plans I feel like a Peter Pan's Lost Boy Rufio being left behind in the fairy dust. Despite my TV time I don't own a TV or bed because they cost money. I may always be poor and have surrendered myself to that. I have no husband or man in my sites. I might never marry let alone have children. It's just my puppets, my books, my jokes, my stage time, my TV appearances, and a warm cup of tea and Lifetime Movie in a chilly winter's eve.
But then my Mema, who is trying to break out of the nursing home, who defies doctor's orders tells me she catalogues all the books she reads. The journal is kept in her underwear drawer. I am entry 2000. She has done this practice since she was a little girl. Somethings never change. And it is all for the better.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm (tomorrow)
Bethel Park Library
5100 West Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
The whole concept of growing and changing started yesterday. My Aunt Jeanie's dog is getting bigger. I mean bear size. Burlgars beware. My cousins Colt and Legran are getting older in school. One injured his foot doing Parkour in the back yard to his mother's chagrin. Then my cousin Mindy announced she was pregnant.
Not just pregnant with one baby but WITH TWINS!!! Wait a hot minute. Does your mother know? Did you tell your husband? I remember when she was a beautiful dancer with city ballet and weight gain let alone pregnancy were the last things she wanted. Now she will be gaining plenty of weight. Now she will be eating all the iced cream and pizza she was never allowed to eat as a dancer. But twins! How time flies. This is insane. I thought it was insane when Wendell married Veronique. Now Wendell is talking about his feelings. This is all too much as my grandparents have not one great grandchild but three.
Meara was with her boyfriend, yes a steady in Georgia. Skipper is graduating medical school and going to be a real doctor. She's bright. She's an adult. But in my eyes she is still my baby sister, slipping in my bed when she has nightmares at seven years old; taking my covers. Kicking me. Being the worst bed fellow ever. But now she is no longer Skipper but Dr. Skipper.
My grandfather got his eyes fixed and he read my whole book. So age is changing some for the better.
On my dad's side my cousin Jayce's boyfriend saw me on Korean TV. I like Brendan. I hope he sticks around. I can wait for a wedding. Jennika also has a boyfriend. She is so young I don't know that it is serious. Mema wants a grandbaby though. Rob Fran, my trumpet playing cousin, released his first album but will probably be a bachelor forever. It's not that he doesn't love you baby, he loves everyone. The curse of those of us born under Libra. My grandma asked me and I was like hell no! Baby would be the last thing I wanted. Then she asked about my cousin Kacie who has been with her boyfriend Mike forever. Oh no. Kacie wants to travel the world and possibly get breast implants because her cousin on the other side did. I think she is a snappy lil number but oh well....
But then she said Kristoff would get married-yes the quiet trombone player in the Notre Dame band. The one Manti T'eo signed the Heisman ball for. And we all burst out laughing. Kacie, Mike and I discussed the wedding. We said it would be a duress, disaster, and a surprise. Who would do such a thing? Not me.
My baby cousin's, all four adopted from Russia, are growing up so quick. I remember them when they were small. They were checking the weather in Moscow. Nineteen degrees. That's warm for this time of year and it is only getting colder. Thank God for America.
My baby cousin Matthew, who I remember when he was little but not so little anymore, made the high school All-Star Team.
My other cousin Jesse and my cousin Apollo danced to a Wii game, while Andre played on his phone. Yes, that is what the kids are getting.
I feel old in some ways. Sophisticated that I am accomplishing things. But still unsure of how to handle this whole grown up thing with dignity and grace. Sometimes it is great to know I have freedom, sometimes it sucks because if I break the law they can stick a needle in my arm-no, not the stuff to get me high. The stuff to kill me. As time flies I want to know what happened to my youth and some of my dreams. Granted, sometimes they were more work than intended but still, what happened to time?
As part of me forges ahead and talks about my plans I feel like a Peter Pan's Lost Boy Rufio being left behind in the fairy dust. Despite my TV time I don't own a TV or bed because they cost money. I may always be poor and have surrendered myself to that. I have no husband or man in my sites. I might never marry let alone have children. It's just my puppets, my books, my jokes, my stage time, my TV appearances, and a warm cup of tea and Lifetime Movie in a chilly winter's eve.
But then my Mema, who is trying to break out of the nursing home, who defies doctor's orders tells me she catalogues all the books she reads. The journal is kept in her underwear drawer. I am entry 2000. She has done this practice since she was a little girl. Somethings never change. And it is all for the better.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm (tomorrow)
Bethel Park Library
5100 West Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
December 24, 2012
My Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer: It Happened to Me
As written by Eve Warden and told to April Brucker
It was Christmas Eve and my dear sweet grandmother was walking home from our house. Actually she wasn't dear and sweet. She was a bit of a bitch. She told us that we were all destined to hell and my dad said she used to beat him with a metal pipe and refused him medical care when he was sick because it saved money. But for the sake of the song we made her a dear sweet woman.
Anyway, she used to fake being handicapped but she would walk when it got her things. Well this Christmas Eve it got her run over. My grandmother was actually headed home from the bar where she was hitting on an old sailor and telling him that she was a widow (my grandfather jumped out a window. He said a divorce was too stressful). Anyway while she was there a local drunk claims a man named Kris Kringle was getting rather trashed on some egg nogg and other holiday cheer and joked about getting behind the wheel of a sleigh. No one believed him about being Santa. They assumed he was like every other drunk in the bar: fat, unemployed and with a tall tale to tell. But this drunk stood out, he had all of his teeth.
My grandmother hit on him. After all, he did have all his teeth. The man apparently spoke about his wife. And then he said he had some ungrateful workers named Elves who were unionizing, and PETA was cracking down on him for his treatment of the reindeer.
Well my grandmother left the place. And staggered home drunk. Santa was drunk and wanted her number because apparently he couldn't stand his wife. Well he was in his sleigh and apparently was the real thing. But because he was drunk he couldn't quite drive clearly and ran over my grandmother!!!!
She was lying in the road dead as a door nail. It was Comet that killed her. Yes, the assweed that left Rudolph out of the Reindeer Games. But no charges were pressed because no one knows whether Santa is real or not, despite the fact that they won in court in Miracle on 34th St.
But I believe in Santa.
While he had too much to drink and killed my grandmother, she was a real bitch and was hardly missed. Not to mention we made a killing on a hit song. No pun intended.
Cause my grandma got run over by a reindeer
(Note: April's grandmother's are lovely. One traveled the world, and the other is currently on page 195 of her book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl available on Amazon)
It was Christmas Eve and my dear sweet grandmother was walking home from our house. Actually she wasn't dear and sweet. She was a bit of a bitch. She told us that we were all destined to hell and my dad said she used to beat him with a metal pipe and refused him medical care when he was sick because it saved money. But for the sake of the song we made her a dear sweet woman.
Anyway, she used to fake being handicapped but she would walk when it got her things. Well this Christmas Eve it got her run over. My grandmother was actually headed home from the bar where she was hitting on an old sailor and telling him that she was a widow (my grandfather jumped out a window. He said a divorce was too stressful). Anyway while she was there a local drunk claims a man named Kris Kringle was getting rather trashed on some egg nogg and other holiday cheer and joked about getting behind the wheel of a sleigh. No one believed him about being Santa. They assumed he was like every other drunk in the bar: fat, unemployed and with a tall tale to tell. But this drunk stood out, he had all of his teeth.
My grandmother hit on him. After all, he did have all his teeth. The man apparently spoke about his wife. And then he said he had some ungrateful workers named Elves who were unionizing, and PETA was cracking down on him for his treatment of the reindeer.
Well my grandmother left the place. And staggered home drunk. Santa was drunk and wanted her number because apparently he couldn't stand his wife. Well he was in his sleigh and apparently was the real thing. But because he was drunk he couldn't quite drive clearly and ran over my grandmother!!!!
She was lying in the road dead as a door nail. It was Comet that killed her. Yes, the assweed that left Rudolph out of the Reindeer Games. But no charges were pressed because no one knows whether Santa is real or not, despite the fact that they won in court in Miracle on 34th St.
But I believe in Santa.
While he had too much to drink and killed my grandmother, she was a real bitch and was hardly missed. Not to mention we made a killing on a hit song. No pun intended.
Cause my grandma got run over by a reindeer
(Note: April's grandmother's are lovely. One traveled the world, and the other is currently on page 195 of her book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl available on Amazon)
White Christmas (Bing Crosby)
It snowed a few days ago and it is supposed to snow again tonight. The ground looks like it has pieces of sugary baking powder. I want a White Christmas. It would make my Christmas wish come true.
Yesterday it was Christmas Central at Casa Brucker. We baked cookies for close to four hours and decorated the tree for two. None of the decorating was done. My mom and sister Skipper were at Duke checking out her residency places thus being away. I love my dad but him doing a home improvement project alone is a disaster. So we all had to do the decorating together as a team. After cookie baking and decorating I felt like my head was going to explode. NO MORE! Do you know the holidays are the highest suicide and homicide times? People just get fed up. And did I mention I went to the mall before that?
I woke up this morning and felt better. The plot thickens with my former classmate. He wrote me to tell me that he did not drop out of high school but graudated with a three point two. Not to mention he was never in PE because he played basketball. And he didn't want anything serious with me. He had a kid and didn't want to confuse him. He just wanted to have fun. Good deal, fun is okay. Plus he said while his son was an accident he was a good accident. I felt bad about getting the info messed up. I didn't know him that well and made assumptions. When you assume you make an ASS out of U and ME. But he seems like he is probably a good dad. I remember him being a good dude. I was also sad when he left ultimate frisbee. He was tall and could run fast. We had an advantage. Plus it was funny to see the bad girl of the Forensics league go after him. I mean, she was blantant, bumping into him and overtly flirting. It was my entertainment for the afternoon. I have spoken to her since high school and she is always supportive of me. Thank God we have all grown up.
The whole thing made me ashamed. Shows how self-aborbed I was then and tend to be now.
But as for guys with kids, they are a slippery slope as I learned this year. Almost dated one and the kid learned I had been on TV and suddenly was asking his dad what I could buy him assuming I was rich. Yes, I am sorta famous, emphasis on the sorta, but rich, hells no. The kid wanted a pool, a convertible. I was like kid, you can get these things when I do. Before that I need to buy myself a bed and a TV SO I CAN WATCH MYSELF. Do you know how many times people have asked me if I saw myself on TV? The answer was no because I can't afford one. So I tell my friends, invite me over and I will burn you dinner. We can watch me together.
On the flipside, this is the season about giving. For as much as this holiday has driven me crazy, I am starting to get into it. I picked out the outfits for my mother, sister, and myself. I am looking forward to seeing my family. It was a pleasure to give my Mema her sweaters and glasses even though she has been the bain of the existance of every doctor and nurse there is. I will head to church with my family tonight. Then we will have a fish dinner.
Perhaps Rudolph will be on. The poor thing was born with a red nose that glowed and everyone made fun of him. The beginning when they don't let him take part in the Reindeer Games makes me cry. Even when Santa says the nose will work against him. And it breaks my heart that he runs away. But then in the end he saves Christmas. And I bet he gets a mansion and never invites Coach Comet. I hope he marries Clarice. She was sweet. Maybe it's because I was made fun of and disincluded for being different. Or maybe I am weird and have estrogen. But Rudolph should have sued them all for pain and suffering. I know he would now.
Maybe Frosty will be used as an argument for evolution and coincidence by the atheists.
But I did watch Miracle on 34th Street and The Bishops Wife in black and white and both were lovely.
Either way, I have to go. Much to be done.
I no longer abhor this holiday but am starting to look forward to it. Now where is the dancing snow man to sing, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!"
Nevermind, I will settle for Bing Instead.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
Yesterday it was Christmas Central at Casa Brucker. We baked cookies for close to four hours and decorated the tree for two. None of the decorating was done. My mom and sister Skipper were at Duke checking out her residency places thus being away. I love my dad but him doing a home improvement project alone is a disaster. So we all had to do the decorating together as a team. After cookie baking and decorating I felt like my head was going to explode. NO MORE! Do you know the holidays are the highest suicide and homicide times? People just get fed up. And did I mention I went to the mall before that?
I woke up this morning and felt better. The plot thickens with my former classmate. He wrote me to tell me that he did not drop out of high school but graudated with a three point two. Not to mention he was never in PE because he played basketball. And he didn't want anything serious with me. He had a kid and didn't want to confuse him. He just wanted to have fun. Good deal, fun is okay. Plus he said while his son was an accident he was a good accident. I felt bad about getting the info messed up. I didn't know him that well and made assumptions. When you assume you make an ASS out of U and ME. But he seems like he is probably a good dad. I remember him being a good dude. I was also sad when he left ultimate frisbee. He was tall and could run fast. We had an advantage. Plus it was funny to see the bad girl of the Forensics league go after him. I mean, she was blantant, bumping into him and overtly flirting. It was my entertainment for the afternoon. I have spoken to her since high school and she is always supportive of me. Thank God we have all grown up.
The whole thing made me ashamed. Shows how self-aborbed I was then and tend to be now.
But as for guys with kids, they are a slippery slope as I learned this year. Almost dated one and the kid learned I had been on TV and suddenly was asking his dad what I could buy him assuming I was rich. Yes, I am sorta famous, emphasis on the sorta, but rich, hells no. The kid wanted a pool, a convertible. I was like kid, you can get these things when I do. Before that I need to buy myself a bed and a TV SO I CAN WATCH MYSELF. Do you know how many times people have asked me if I saw myself on TV? The answer was no because I can't afford one. So I tell my friends, invite me over and I will burn you dinner. We can watch me together.
On the flipside, this is the season about giving. For as much as this holiday has driven me crazy, I am starting to get into it. I picked out the outfits for my mother, sister, and myself. I am looking forward to seeing my family. It was a pleasure to give my Mema her sweaters and glasses even though she has been the bain of the existance of every doctor and nurse there is. I will head to church with my family tonight. Then we will have a fish dinner.
Perhaps Rudolph will be on. The poor thing was born with a red nose that glowed and everyone made fun of him. The beginning when they don't let him take part in the Reindeer Games makes me cry. Even when Santa says the nose will work against him. And it breaks my heart that he runs away. But then in the end he saves Christmas. And I bet he gets a mansion and never invites Coach Comet. I hope he marries Clarice. She was sweet. Maybe it's because I was made fun of and disincluded for being different. Or maybe I am weird and have estrogen. But Rudolph should have sued them all for pain and suffering. I know he would now.
Maybe Frosty will be used as an argument for evolution and coincidence by the atheists.
But I did watch Miracle on 34th Street and The Bishops Wife in black and white and both were lovely.
Either way, I have to go. Much to be done.
I no longer abhor this holiday but am starting to look forward to it. Now where is the dancing snow man to sing, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!"
Nevermind, I will settle for Bing Instead.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
December 23, 2012
"I Wanna Meet You In a Dark Room"
For the past two nd a half years-since being on TLC with my puppet kiddies-I have had guys come out of the wood work from my past to ask me out. Some have been comedians who met me once at an open mic night. Others had known me from a college lecture. But there have been several from high school. One made fun of me really bad. The other I never met. But this recent one had been in a gym class of mine and hardly ever came.
Yes, we only had two classes together, neither of which he really showed up for. We only spoke twice and I remember generally liking him. But as the years passed and I left home to pursue my goals he became one of the many memories that defined high school. And even then they were faded between play rehearsals, nursing home dates with my Groucho Marx figure, tapings at the access station, articles for the youth section, literary magazine, and of course my weekend job bagging groceries at the Giant Eagle.
Fast forward almost ten years later. I have achieved some of my goals while many are just dreams. One of my goals and dreams was writing and publishing a book. I did. It's available in my local library as well as Amazon. Anyway, I was sending out the invites for the book talk. My former classmate writes me back, "I wanna meet you in a dark room. HMU."
HMU means two things: hide my unicorns or hit me up. Then it occurs to me, this boy is talking about a unicorn, and not the kind children are meant to see.
Meet me in a dark room to do what? It certainly isn't to read. You can't do that in a dark room. When I told my sister Skipper about this she said, "Wasnt he bad?" Well yes and no. He was bad but got in trouble for never showing up to class. So he caused his trouble elsewhere. I remember the bad girl of the Forensics Club trying to accidentally bump into him during the one time he came to frisbee in gym class. Then he disappeared.
So I wrote him back. I figured I would invite him to my book talk like I would any crazed male admirerer and fan. I just have to be careful, but I don't think he's homicidal. That involves showing up and planning. He writes me back and says, "U hav to make the 1st move. I am kina shy." Well the fact you never showed up at school is beginning to make itself apparent in your grammar, Sir.
I don't write back. What am I supposed to say?
He writes me back telling me he is intrigued and misspells the word. While nothing turns me off like horrendous grammar, his bravery is quite sexy. Yes, he has a kid. Yes, he was a high school drop out. Yes, he never came to school and this could only end badly. Yes, I would probably date him. Oh dear God get a hold of yourself woman!!!! Then I see he has a baby mama and I don't do that drama and I decided it was all over.
However, Christmas is the season about giving. While this whole thing made me laugh, it also made that awkward high school girl in me smile, the one with a lot of ambition and a lot of bad makeup. The one who played with puppets, produced TV programs, and proved that yes, too much eyeliner and mascara can be a horrid thing. In a time in my life where a date was a dream that never came true and guys were more likely to ask me for the plot on the book they read for English class than to be on their arm for homecoming, I felt that part of me smile and get a lil sexy.
Perhaps puppets and books are sexy and there are guys in this world who think so, or perhaps thought so all along.
Either way, it gave my self esteem a boost.
Season's Greetings.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
Yes, we only had two classes together, neither of which he really showed up for. We only spoke twice and I remember generally liking him. But as the years passed and I left home to pursue my goals he became one of the many memories that defined high school. And even then they were faded between play rehearsals, nursing home dates with my Groucho Marx figure, tapings at the access station, articles for the youth section, literary magazine, and of course my weekend job bagging groceries at the Giant Eagle.
Fast forward almost ten years later. I have achieved some of my goals while many are just dreams. One of my goals and dreams was writing and publishing a book. I did. It's available in my local library as well as Amazon. Anyway, I was sending out the invites for the book talk. My former classmate writes me back, "I wanna meet you in a dark room. HMU."
HMU means two things: hide my unicorns or hit me up. Then it occurs to me, this boy is talking about a unicorn, and not the kind children are meant to see.
Meet me in a dark room to do what? It certainly isn't to read. You can't do that in a dark room. When I told my sister Skipper about this she said, "Wasnt he bad?" Well yes and no. He was bad but got in trouble for never showing up to class. So he caused his trouble elsewhere. I remember the bad girl of the Forensics Club trying to accidentally bump into him during the one time he came to frisbee in gym class. Then he disappeared.
So I wrote him back. I figured I would invite him to my book talk like I would any crazed male admirerer and fan. I just have to be careful, but I don't think he's homicidal. That involves showing up and planning. He writes me back and says, "U hav to make the 1st move. I am kina shy." Well the fact you never showed up at school is beginning to make itself apparent in your grammar, Sir.
I don't write back. What am I supposed to say?
He writes me back telling me he is intrigued and misspells the word. While nothing turns me off like horrendous grammar, his bravery is quite sexy. Yes, he has a kid. Yes, he was a high school drop out. Yes, he never came to school and this could only end badly. Yes, I would probably date him. Oh dear God get a hold of yourself woman!!!! Then I see he has a baby mama and I don't do that drama and I decided it was all over.
However, Christmas is the season about giving. While this whole thing made me laugh, it also made that awkward high school girl in me smile, the one with a lot of ambition and a lot of bad makeup. The one who played with puppets, produced TV programs, and proved that yes, too much eyeliner and mascara can be a horrid thing. In a time in my life where a date was a dream that never came true and guys were more likely to ask me for the plot on the book they read for English class than to be on their arm for homecoming, I felt that part of me smile and get a lil sexy.
Perhaps puppets and books are sexy and there are guys in this world who think so, or perhaps thought so all along.
Either way, it gave my self esteem a boost.
Season's Greetings.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
December 22, 2012
Santa Claus is Coming to Town (Bruce Springsteen)
It's cold here in the burgh, or should I call it the BURRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, maybe not. That was the closest I have come to a hack joke in a while. I woke up this morning and it was cold. Dante spoke about a layer of hell being ice. I think we have entered that layer. The world didn't end and I am actually okay with that. The descendants of the Mayans said it was a hoax. Still, it is cold here.
My mom informed me we were going Christmas shopping at the mall. She asked what I wanted. I told her World Peace. She said, "April, I don't think they sell that at South Hills Village." Then off we went.
We got to the mall and everyone and their mother had the same idea. Our assignment was to get something for my grandfather. Then of course matching Christmas outfits for my mom, my sister Skipper, and myself. My mom and I have two different shopping styles. We are both Libras but it comes out at different times. My Libra comes out in my quest for creativity and social justice, hers comes out in creativity but also indecision. What I mean is, I know what usually will work and what will not by looking at the outfit. My mother on the other hand tries on most of the store and then still can't decide. So she dropped me off at NY and Company to pick out the Christmas outfits while she went to the vitamin store.
I saw a black sweater that was perfect along with two runners up, one purple (Advent Theme) and one Christmas silver. The purple advent I got for me and the silver was too much work. The black would go perfectly with stretch pants, a belt and heals. So my mom came back, I tried them on and presto! She loved it. Then she went to do another errand and I picked out a red belt and stretch pants for the three of us. None of us are over five four, Skipper and I hitting it on the mark while my mother is less than five feet, so the challenge was finding a smaller size. But it was accomplished. My mom liked the belt, the earrings, and everything else.
So we get in the car to go home. Skipper and my dad are waiting. My sister is doing whatever she is doing, her shopping done, and my father is working. But we can feel them getting hungry.
On our way home we get behind the car from hell with the retarded driver possibly on medical marijuana. He is moving slow and my mom honks at him. The moron proceeds to move at bottom speed and then this kid who looks like Ralphie from A Christmas Story looks back. I told my mother to stop honking, it was only going to make them go slower. The morons would not speed up and I would tell that they were talking about us. So my mom, pissed as ever, lays it on the horn and starts honking. So these assholes are now in asshole mode and stop in the middle of traffic as to try to get my mother to run into the backs of their car and possibly sue her. Actually, they werent that smart, they just wanted to piss her off.
Now I am mad. I am really mad. Sure my mother is a rage driver but no one messes with her. The Brucker's are like the Bundy's, no matter how insane we always back each other's play. So I roll down my window and like a woman of dignity begin spouting profanity at these dickwads. I scream, "YOU LOW PLAYING MUTHERFUCKERS, YOU ARE FUCKING LUCKY YOU ARE HIDING BEHIND THE WHEEL OF YOUR CAR!!!!!" Then I proceeded to scream their license plate number as I copied it down. They sped away from us ASAP.
I asked my mother what we were going to do with the plate number. She said just keep it. I proposed slashing their tires. She proposed hiring a hit man. I pointed out that a hitman would be costly. She said she didn't have that money. I also pointed out that they were a pain in the ass because you had to pay them before, and after, and hoped that they didn't sing like a songbird if the job got screwed up. Plus if she found God in this holiday season and cancelled the hit they might take her to court like the one in West Virginia did. My mother agreed. There would be no hit men. This was all just too messy.
Well I am safely back in the nest with my new outfits and look better than those morons in front of us ever would.
Tonight we are going to church and then to visit my Mema in a nursing home. She is not happy about being there and was letting my dad know about it earlier. It has nothing to do with her noncompliance with any doctor's order whatsoever mind you. To top it off her bottom dentures have disappeared and no one can find them. But she was screaming at my dad. After the car ride home I can only think, "She is mad, she is old, and she is missing her dentures. Tony Soprano's mother was in the same boat. She hired a hit man. Watch out dad."
Sigh.
And then to decorate the tree and Christmas cookies.
Move over Griswalds. The Brucker's are in town.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
My mom informed me we were going Christmas shopping at the mall. She asked what I wanted. I told her World Peace. She said, "April, I don't think they sell that at South Hills Village." Then off we went.
We got to the mall and everyone and their mother had the same idea. Our assignment was to get something for my grandfather. Then of course matching Christmas outfits for my mom, my sister Skipper, and myself. My mom and I have two different shopping styles. We are both Libras but it comes out at different times. My Libra comes out in my quest for creativity and social justice, hers comes out in creativity but also indecision. What I mean is, I know what usually will work and what will not by looking at the outfit. My mother on the other hand tries on most of the store and then still can't decide. So she dropped me off at NY and Company to pick out the Christmas outfits while she went to the vitamin store.
I saw a black sweater that was perfect along with two runners up, one purple (Advent Theme) and one Christmas silver. The purple advent I got for me and the silver was too much work. The black would go perfectly with stretch pants, a belt and heals. So my mom came back, I tried them on and presto! She loved it. Then she went to do another errand and I picked out a red belt and stretch pants for the three of us. None of us are over five four, Skipper and I hitting it on the mark while my mother is less than five feet, so the challenge was finding a smaller size. But it was accomplished. My mom liked the belt, the earrings, and everything else.
So we get in the car to go home. Skipper and my dad are waiting. My sister is doing whatever she is doing, her shopping done, and my father is working. But we can feel them getting hungry.
On our way home we get behind the car from hell with the retarded driver possibly on medical marijuana. He is moving slow and my mom honks at him. The moron proceeds to move at bottom speed and then this kid who looks like Ralphie from A Christmas Story looks back. I told my mother to stop honking, it was only going to make them go slower. The morons would not speed up and I would tell that they were talking about us. So my mom, pissed as ever, lays it on the horn and starts honking. So these assholes are now in asshole mode and stop in the middle of traffic as to try to get my mother to run into the backs of their car and possibly sue her. Actually, they werent that smart, they just wanted to piss her off.
Now I am mad. I am really mad. Sure my mother is a rage driver but no one messes with her. The Brucker's are like the Bundy's, no matter how insane we always back each other's play. So I roll down my window and like a woman of dignity begin spouting profanity at these dickwads. I scream, "YOU LOW PLAYING MUTHERFUCKERS, YOU ARE FUCKING LUCKY YOU ARE HIDING BEHIND THE WHEEL OF YOUR CAR!!!!!" Then I proceeded to scream their license plate number as I copied it down. They sped away from us ASAP.
I asked my mother what we were going to do with the plate number. She said just keep it. I proposed slashing their tires. She proposed hiring a hit man. I pointed out that a hitman would be costly. She said she didn't have that money. I also pointed out that they were a pain in the ass because you had to pay them before, and after, and hoped that they didn't sing like a songbird if the job got screwed up. Plus if she found God in this holiday season and cancelled the hit they might take her to court like the one in West Virginia did. My mother agreed. There would be no hit men. This was all just too messy.
Well I am safely back in the nest with my new outfits and look better than those morons in front of us ever would.
Tonight we are going to church and then to visit my Mema in a nursing home. She is not happy about being there and was letting my dad know about it earlier. It has nothing to do with her noncompliance with any doctor's order whatsoever mind you. To top it off her bottom dentures have disappeared and no one can find them. But she was screaming at my dad. After the car ride home I can only think, "She is mad, she is old, and she is missing her dentures. Tony Soprano's mother was in the same boat. She hired a hit man. Watch out dad."
Sigh.
And then to decorate the tree and Christmas cookies.
Move over Griswalds. The Brucker's are in town.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
December 21, 2012
Bah Humbug!
The holidays are here and I am already over XMas. This morning I went to the airport. I managed to get out of bed early, well earlish almost being saved by the bell after a fun night of radio and pAArtying with the guys on CFR. I jumped in a cab and screamed, "STEP ON IT!"
I get to the airport and the line is almost a mile long! It is six in the damn morning. WOW!!!! I GOT THERE AN HOUR EARLY. IT IS ALWAYS PLENTY OF TIME. SHIT I AM GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I tell myself not to panic. My cab driver-a sweet Haitian man-told me not to panic. But it is too late, I am panicking as is the entire damn place. Well then they have the people leaving before 7 am make a line. We do but the thing is that the line isnt moving. So then we ask why the line isnt moving and we are getting testy. Some people are getting last call for their flights. We are asking what is going on and this West Indian bitch who talks too loud is telling us to calm down and mind our own business.
So the line starts to move. We all get shifted and are in a hurry. This guy tries to cut in front of me an has the nerve to say, "Excuse me, I was in front of you. You cut the line."
I turned and said, "I did not cut the line, you were trying to cut in front of me." What I meant to say was eat shit you granola eating douche bag but it is Christmas and I am trying to work on my gratitute. So then this bastard mouths off and says, "You know lady, I have a 7 am flight too."
Now I am on the border of using my mixed martial arts to let this dickwad know who is boss. He is trying to cut in front of me and pick on me because I am a woman travelling alone. I said, "Listen, if you are picking on me because I am a woman I think you are pathetic. I did not have my coffee yet." This jerkoff did not know what to say. Instead he stood there.
We all put our things through security as a woman in a wheel chair came through followed by a parade of women in wheel chairs. This jerkoff was not done. He was just getting started. He has the nerve to say to the woman wheeling the old woman, "Why does she get to go ahead of us? She is just a person and we are a bunch of people."
"Because she takes more time." The gate attendant explained.
"I would walk if I could." The old woman snapped at him.
As this jerkoff was huffing and puffing I turned around and said, "It's called civil rights. She's handicapped." I snapped. Again he shut up. He was quiet for the rest of the security check. Thank God because I was getting dangerously close to committing a felony. While I wasnt the only one who probably has wanted to deck him, if I got arrested I wouldnt get to see my Mama. I'll let a biker do the honors somewhere. Plus as fierce as I am his right hook is better.
Going through security was stressful because everyone was shoving their things in. Then I had to race to my gate without my shoes. As I am without my shoes some fat thing on a motor scooter who was riding that thing because she was over six hundred pounds tried to run over my foot. Lady, you arent handicapped, you are just fat. Maybe after you have three Big Macs as a snack you need some affirmations because you have let the waist line get out of control. She had the nerve to say, "MOVE IT!" I wanted to inform her that I did not hold her chocolate bar or the box of pizza that she had as her breakfast. But the fight in me was gone.
As I got on the plane I saw the guy I got into it with. He was just about as beat as I was. It seems the holidays put Miracle Grow on everyone's defects of character. He didnt look at me. I didnt want him too. I just think we both wanted this trip over with.
I got on my plane which was delayed on the runway. In between there I slurped down some coffee. Then I got home where it is snowing. From the inside it looks like a snow globe, on the outside it is windy and annoying.
Did I mention I already did some of my shopping and it is insane? We need to get my Mema a certain sweater and some of the colors looked like death. She just had a health care and is in a nursing home. SHE DOES NOT NEED A DEATH COLORED SWEATER BURLINGTON COAT FACTORY. THESE ARE MY NEEDS. LISTEN TO THEM!!!!!!!!
But all my shopping is not done.
I can't wait until Christmas is over. The Carols are killing me. Maybe I will convert to Judaism and celebrate Hannakah. Eight days of presents. Rich, good looking men. But then I realize they have their own holidays they hate with a passion. That I would not be off the hook. And that Hannakah Harry enters through the front door and not the chimney which is kinda lame.
Oh well.
Happy holidays
Bah Humbug
And I am too tired for a visit from any spirits.
Love
April E. Scrooge
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book talk
December 27, 2012 at 7
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park PA 15102
I get to the airport and the line is almost a mile long! It is six in the damn morning. WOW!!!! I GOT THERE AN HOUR EARLY. IT IS ALWAYS PLENTY OF TIME. SHIT I AM GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I tell myself not to panic. My cab driver-a sweet Haitian man-told me not to panic. But it is too late, I am panicking as is the entire damn place. Well then they have the people leaving before 7 am make a line. We do but the thing is that the line isnt moving. So then we ask why the line isnt moving and we are getting testy. Some people are getting last call for their flights. We are asking what is going on and this West Indian bitch who talks too loud is telling us to calm down and mind our own business.
So the line starts to move. We all get shifted and are in a hurry. This guy tries to cut in front of me an has the nerve to say, "Excuse me, I was in front of you. You cut the line."
I turned and said, "I did not cut the line, you were trying to cut in front of me." What I meant to say was eat shit you granola eating douche bag but it is Christmas and I am trying to work on my gratitute. So then this bastard mouths off and says, "You know lady, I have a 7 am flight too."
Now I am on the border of using my mixed martial arts to let this dickwad know who is boss. He is trying to cut in front of me and pick on me because I am a woman travelling alone. I said, "Listen, if you are picking on me because I am a woman I think you are pathetic. I did not have my coffee yet." This jerkoff did not know what to say. Instead he stood there.
We all put our things through security as a woman in a wheel chair came through followed by a parade of women in wheel chairs. This jerkoff was not done. He was just getting started. He has the nerve to say to the woman wheeling the old woman, "Why does she get to go ahead of us? She is just a person and we are a bunch of people."
"Because she takes more time." The gate attendant explained.
"I would walk if I could." The old woman snapped at him.
As this jerkoff was huffing and puffing I turned around and said, "It's called civil rights. She's handicapped." I snapped. Again he shut up. He was quiet for the rest of the security check. Thank God because I was getting dangerously close to committing a felony. While I wasnt the only one who probably has wanted to deck him, if I got arrested I wouldnt get to see my Mama. I'll let a biker do the honors somewhere. Plus as fierce as I am his right hook is better.
Going through security was stressful because everyone was shoving their things in. Then I had to race to my gate without my shoes. As I am without my shoes some fat thing on a motor scooter who was riding that thing because she was over six hundred pounds tried to run over my foot. Lady, you arent handicapped, you are just fat. Maybe after you have three Big Macs as a snack you need some affirmations because you have let the waist line get out of control. She had the nerve to say, "MOVE IT!" I wanted to inform her that I did not hold her chocolate bar or the box of pizza that she had as her breakfast. But the fight in me was gone.
As I got on the plane I saw the guy I got into it with. He was just about as beat as I was. It seems the holidays put Miracle Grow on everyone's defects of character. He didnt look at me. I didnt want him too. I just think we both wanted this trip over with.
I got on my plane which was delayed on the runway. In between there I slurped down some coffee. Then I got home where it is snowing. From the inside it looks like a snow globe, on the outside it is windy and annoying.
Did I mention I already did some of my shopping and it is insane? We need to get my Mema a certain sweater and some of the colors looked like death. She just had a health care and is in a nursing home. SHE DOES NOT NEED A DEATH COLORED SWEATER BURLINGTON COAT FACTORY. THESE ARE MY NEEDS. LISTEN TO THEM!!!!!!!!
But all my shopping is not done.
I can't wait until Christmas is over. The Carols are killing me. Maybe I will convert to Judaism and celebrate Hannakah. Eight days of presents. Rich, good looking men. But then I realize they have their own holidays they hate with a passion. That I would not be off the hook. And that Hannakah Harry enters through the front door and not the chimney which is kinda lame.
Oh well.
Happy holidays
Bah Humbug
And I am too tired for a visit from any spirits.
Love
April E. Scrooge
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book talk
December 27, 2012 at 7
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park PA 15102
December 20, 2012
World Ends (Britney Spears)
In May of 2011 I believe the world was supposed to end. All week I had heard this hooplah about how the sky was supposed to darken by these nuts in the subway giving out pamphlets. I was like, whatever. I didnt believe it. No one with a brain did. However plenty of brainless nuts believed it. There were people giving away their savings and worldly possessions in case of the Rapture and in case Jesus descended. In my experience not once has Jesus descended on schedule but maybe he might one of these days. He is like a celebrity in a way. He is put on the guest list but only shows up when he pleases, and has a set of psycho fans. Not bad for a hot guy in an S and M pose who is shirtless and would be a better fit for a gay club than a place of worship. It's ironic how many of his followers are anti-gay. I mean, come on.
Anyway, the day had been chirpy and sunny and I had been getting ready to do a gig in Jersey. I had to meet my ride Craig Loydgren in Staten Island. As I waited for him I saw the sky darken. Sure I had been a naysayer all week. But now the sky was starting to darken and the clouds were coming in. Maybe the world was going to end after all. Maybe we were going to experience the Rapture. I was filled with wonder and panic. Where were the Four Horsemen Jesus had spoken of in Revelations. As the sky darkened and the fear began to fill my system I heard a small child ask, "Is the world ending."
I figured maybe I should recite a childhood prayer or something just in case. I half assed a Hail Mary as the sky continued to get darker and darker and then to my chagrin NOTHING HAPPENED!!!!!! I WAS DISAPPOINTED. WHAT KIND OF APOCALYPSE WAS THIS?!?!?!!?!?? THIS SUCKED MAJOR END OF THE WORLD KIND OF ASS!!!!
Maybe it was God playing with our simple minds and it was like a movie where you think something will happen and then it doesnt.
On our way to the show at Andy Julia's venue Craig and I joked about the world ending and how it didnt happen and how we were disappointed. While we were both moderately intelligent people who highly doubted it when the sky darkened we did wonder. So on our long trekk we called Rich Carucci. Rich is our buddy and we love him. Like us if the world did in fact end he would be destined to roast in the pits, hence his spot on the Pig Roast with Otto and George along with yours truly and May Wilson.
So we called him. Craig put me on speaker. Craig and I asked, "Rich, did you get saved?"
To which Rich replied, "Hell no, I will be telling dick jokes tonight!" And the three of us burst out laughing. The world did not end but all was right in the world. Rich was telling dick jokes, I was on my way to a gig with Craig and we were making fun of people we didnt like.
When I got to the gig I got to meet Andy Julia and his wife. We joked about how bummed we were that the world did not end. Then I took the stage and asked everyone, "Did you think the world was going to end? If the world ended we would never have to pay rent, taxes or any sort of bills. We could screw our jobs and mouth off to our bosses because we wouldnt have to worry about getting fired. Do you think we could be that lucky? Hell no." To my surprise the audience laughed and very hard.
I then went up the road where Craig had another gig where Pete Michaels was headlining. He had his puppet children just like I have mine. All was right with the world. It was all good.
Do I think the world will end? Probably not. We couldn't be that lucky as I said.
A few weeks ago I was joking around with my dad who has a wicked sense of humor. I told my dad after he made a funny but evil crack about a hunched back waiter that he was going to hell. My dad replied, "Well when I get there I will be working as Satan's lawyer which means I will be running the place so you better be nice to me."
Translated, when the world ends and I go to hell which I know I ain't going to heaven, I will be well connected.
Maybe I could even get a date with one of the Four Horsemen.
LoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girlwww.buybooksontheweb.com877-Buy-BookA... on Amazon
Come to my book signingDecember 27, 2012 @ 7pmBethel Park Library5100W Library AveBethel Park, PA 15102
Anyway, the day had been chirpy and sunny and I had been getting ready to do a gig in Jersey. I had to meet my ride Craig Loydgren in Staten Island. As I waited for him I saw the sky darken. Sure I had been a naysayer all week. But now the sky was starting to darken and the clouds were coming in. Maybe the world was going to end after all. Maybe we were going to experience the Rapture. I was filled with wonder and panic. Where were the Four Horsemen Jesus had spoken of in Revelations. As the sky darkened and the fear began to fill my system I heard a small child ask, "Is the world ending."
I figured maybe I should recite a childhood prayer or something just in case. I half assed a Hail Mary as the sky continued to get darker and darker and then to my chagrin NOTHING HAPPENED!!!!!! I WAS DISAPPOINTED. WHAT KIND OF APOCALYPSE WAS THIS?!?!?!!?!?? THIS SUCKED MAJOR END OF THE WORLD KIND OF ASS!!!!
Maybe it was God playing with our simple minds and it was like a movie where you think something will happen and then it doesnt.
On our way to the show at Andy Julia's venue Craig and I joked about the world ending and how it didnt happen and how we were disappointed. While we were both moderately intelligent people who highly doubted it when the sky darkened we did wonder. So on our long trekk we called Rich Carucci. Rich is our buddy and we love him. Like us if the world did in fact end he would be destined to roast in the pits, hence his spot on the Pig Roast with Otto and George along with yours truly and May Wilson.
So we called him. Craig put me on speaker. Craig and I asked, "Rich, did you get saved?"
To which Rich replied, "Hell no, I will be telling dick jokes tonight!" And the three of us burst out laughing. The world did not end but all was right in the world. Rich was telling dick jokes, I was on my way to a gig with Craig and we were making fun of people we didnt like.
When I got to the gig I got to meet Andy Julia and his wife. We joked about how bummed we were that the world did not end. Then I took the stage and asked everyone, "Did you think the world was going to end? If the world ended we would never have to pay rent, taxes or any sort of bills. We could screw our jobs and mouth off to our bosses because we wouldnt have to worry about getting fired. Do you think we could be that lucky? Hell no." To my surprise the audience laughed and very hard.
I then went up the road where Craig had another gig where Pete Michaels was headlining. He had his puppet children just like I have mine. All was right with the world. It was all good.
Do I think the world will end? Probably not. We couldn't be that lucky as I said.
A few weeks ago I was joking around with my dad who has a wicked sense of humor. I told my dad after he made a funny but evil crack about a hunched back waiter that he was going to hell. My dad replied, "Well when I get there I will be working as Satan's lawyer which means I will be running the place so you better be nice to me."
Translated, when the world ends and I go to hell which I know I ain't going to heaven, I will be well connected.
Maybe I could even get a date with one of the Four Horsemen.
LoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girlwww.buybooksontheweb.com877-Buy-BookA... on Amazon
Come to my book signingDecember 27, 2012 @ 7pmBethel Park Library5100W Library AveBethel Park, PA 15102
December 19, 2012
Fighter (Kelly Clarkson)
My entire life I have been a fighter. As a kid it was because the mean spirited kids would pick on me for the way I talked or dressed. In middle school it was to fend off the mean girls and their male posse because my parents didn't allow me to date. In high school it was fending off haters-many who now work in fast food or pump my gas-in a way they still win because they could spit in my food and I depend on them-because I was myself. Then in college it was to fend off the dramaramas who were artistes with no substance when I knew who I was. In comedy it was to fend off the snobby Montreal bound clean cut men and the women who wrote clever acts whining about their womanhood that snickered behind my back trying to censor my expression. Sometimes this crossed over to club owners and bookers who believed that just because I was a woman comedian I automatically wanted to sleep with them-especially not minding when they attempted to slip their hands up my shirt unprompted. Or there was the ex-fiance who made my life a nightmare stalking me and had his ex girlfriends join in-not that he had anything going for him-and it is called stalking bi-proxy by the way. Then there was the death of my two friends, Joe and Chacho. In that mix there is the hustle I call the city.
As a kid I did martial arts. Our mother got us involved after our brother got into a brawl of sorts with some kids at his elementary school. A mean spirited kid and his goons were picking on another kid. My brother Wendell helped the kid who was being used as a punching bag by turning off the lights in the boys bathroom, because my mother taught us never to tolerate anyone being bullied or being left out for any reason. Well Wendell's kindess backfired, because they soon came for Wendell. He got a black eye and a few bruises. Needless to say my mother wanted blood. My father said he needs to know how to fight. Enter the dragon aka karate.
My mother took us every Saturday where she was all about the karate thing with all the gusto in the world. We did double classes which tired us out. I really didnt like it much, probably because not only was I doing double class but because my mother told the karate master to treat us as if we were his own children. It was intense, almost too much for me at that age. My sister started at four because my mother lied and said she was six, and Skipper would periodically fall asleep in the back of class. Our master took it in stride. He used to jump down my throat because I hated basics, detested forms, and most of all was horrible at one step. My master told me to try harder. I was like, "Hell no. I didnt come here for the forms. I didnt come here for the one step. I certainly am stomaching the basics. I came here for the free sparring."
I was good at the free sparring. It let me be a fighter. It let me get the aggression I needed to get out of my system on to the open air. Free sparring was what actually made karate worthwhile. I just couldn't deal with the other stuff.
I even quit karate for a time because I just felt stifled by the one step, the forms, the basics. They bored me to hell. I wanted to fight and everything else was just making me nuts. So my parents let me quit for a bit but they told me eventually after taking a break for a few months I would have to go back. They forced me back. I went. My folks said I could stop after black belt. So I was forced to tolerate the basics, forced to tolerate the one step, forced to tolerate the forms. But when sparring came, I was ready to go all Van Damme. My master, who knew I loved to fight to the point where I won trophies in tournaments for it, told me he would pair me up with guys. But he also made it clear not to cry if they hit too hard. I never did. Guys always put up a good fight. I liked it.
Time passed and I moved on to other things, partially because you have to wait two years to test for the next degree of black belt and I simply didnt have that patience. But the martial arts training was worth it. It altered my spirit. It made me able to stand up for myself. My first year of college I had an acting teacher-a bitch who has no career and will never have one-throw some shade in the worst kind of way. I was able to stand up to her and do what I needed to do to get away from that mentally unstable wannabe. It gave me confidence to deal with all the wannabes.
As for times I was in physical peril, it made me realize there was a difference between guts and cowardice. From the ex who stalked me and his gal posse, at the time they put fear into my system because they were so hateful and frequent. However, as time went on I began to realize my ex was not behaving like a man but rather a scared little boy. Not only was he being sneaky, but he would never meet me face to face for a real fight just like his gal pals. They were tough on the internet. However, they would never meet me in real time because that would involve real confrontation. And if they did I would be able to defend myself. I had the training after all.
As a matter of fact, there are people who believe that putting their kids in martial arts encouages fighting and bullying. No, the opposite. Martial arts teaches that a coward throws a punch to start with. A person with true courage takes every other route and uses fighting as a last resort, aka when they are truly in danger and have no other choice.
I really didn't get back into the whole martial arts thing until the winter of 2011. My friend Chacho had died as a result of his drug addiction. A colorful character, he made his choices and his choice was the drugs. As a result, we were not on speaking terms when he died. After he passed, I felt an overwhelming guilt and was just raging out all the time. Part of it stemmed from the guilt and sadness of closing a friend, and the other part of it stemmed from the fact I was not sleeping. After several days of wanting to walk down the street and working on accidentally running into someone so I could have an excuse to hit them, I decided this feeling of rage was not worth a potential felony charge. This was not what my karate master taught me to do. I went to my gym and saw that they had an early morning kickboxing and mixed martial arts class. I made it my business and went. I figured if I liked it I could keep going, and if not I gave it a shot. Plus I wasnt sleeping anyway, why not?
Well I ended up going and really liking it. Plus I love the instructor Jeanene who has several different blackbelts from several different places. Unlike childhood where my mother told the master to treat me as his own and forcing me to double classes and to clean the karate school, I wanted to go. Punching something brought me peace, focus, and most of all quelled the rage that built after my friend's death. It also gave me a new lease on life, making friends with people who were getting fit. Plus as a woman it never hurts to be up on self defense. I was quickly hooked and soon was going to morning and evening classes. Getting back into martial arts not only helped me balance my emotions, but also gave me an excuse to eat better because you need energy to do that exteme activity.
There have been several times martial arts has given me confidence in this past year, too. When I was dealing with a fan who began stalking me, I went to the cops. While it was scary, I was not afraid to stand up for myself. I talked to the friends who knew what was going on and got a strategy. Most of all, I was up on my self defense. Yes, I was a little fearful but I was able to go on with my life. Martial arts teaches you that someone can only bully you as much as you let them. And I wasn't going to let this person bully me.
On other occasions, because I am even spirited and have peace of mind, I am able to do things I only dreamed of as a kid like being on television, writing and publising a comedic memoir, but most of all being myself without the fear of redicule from others.
Recently I added another part of my martial arts practice as a child back into my regimen. That is meditation. We used to meditate before and after class when I was a kid and I used it as an excuse to sleep. I know, it was bad but hey. Now I am meditating again and doing it in conjunction with my kickboxing. It not only balances me out but gives me peace of mind, and when my mind is in shape my body can absorb my training.
As a part of my training I am making a living amends to my karate master. That is to pay more attention to form and technique as an adult and not to blow it off. There is a reason we do those things. Just as in Karate Kid, Daniel soon realized why he had to wax on and wax off after he stopped asking so many questions. Miawgi, you are a genius.
Today wasn't such a smooth day.My computer crashed out of no where. I was swamped at work and just as I was running everywhere I was talking to my publisher and was nearly careened by a mac truck. Well I got to my first stop and they couldnt find the recipient and everyone was talking to me at once and I snapped at the client out of pure frustration that she was leaving at a certain time, and my next delivery was leaving at a certain time and no one would work with me. Yes, I got an opinion, the demon in me got out of control. I was mad as hell. It was all about me. But then I remembered that the karate training from my childhood would have never condoned such egoism, such arrogance. It taught me fighting was a last resort, not a first resort, and loss of temper was a kissing cousin to that.
After being admonished by my boss, who like my childhood karate master is a Virgo, I ran uptown did the second delivery. Then after helping an old woman across the street it occurred to me that part of the training of karate was before fighting one of the other tactics was to try to appease and make right, as in if there is peace to be made do it. That is when I called my boss and apologized. I also offered to redeliver. The client was estatic. I called her later to make amends. It went well.
Then my mom called me back to give me feedback on something and said, "I have a feeling you just jotted this down to get this done." I wanted to scream.
Then I remembered there was a kickboxing class tonight.
That's when I decided that despite the tired I felt I needed to get out the anger and aggression from my day. So I got on my boxing clothes and got my gym bag. Best decision ever. Sometimes you have to street fight some imaginary people without the worry of getting arrested.
I feel good now that martial arts is back in my life. I feel more centered and want to do more of it whenever I can and wherever I can. Also, I dont just want to learn the moves and to fight but also the technique. I want to appriciate the art form too.
In closing I would like to clarify what a fighter is and is not. A fighter is not a violent person. Adam Lanza and James Holmes were violent people with anger issues. One went into a school and opened fire on a room of unarmed children, the other went into a movie theatre and opened fire on unarmed people. Those were not acts of standing up for onesself but rather acts of extreme cowardice that are so dispicable that they cannot even be described in words.
A fighter is someone who is not afraid to stand up for themselves and to stand up to a bully at any time by not being afraid. They use physical violence as a last resort, and never would they ever go after anyone weaker or unarmed. A fighter would only fight an opponent worth the fight, and would defend someone that is weaker. As a martial artist I am in the second class, as is any martial artist who is serious about the practice that they have the privledge of studying.
That is just a clarification to those who dont know the difference
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon
Come to my signing
12-27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Public Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
As a kid I did martial arts. Our mother got us involved after our brother got into a brawl of sorts with some kids at his elementary school. A mean spirited kid and his goons were picking on another kid. My brother Wendell helped the kid who was being used as a punching bag by turning off the lights in the boys bathroom, because my mother taught us never to tolerate anyone being bullied or being left out for any reason. Well Wendell's kindess backfired, because they soon came for Wendell. He got a black eye and a few bruises. Needless to say my mother wanted blood. My father said he needs to know how to fight. Enter the dragon aka karate.
My mother took us every Saturday where she was all about the karate thing with all the gusto in the world. We did double classes which tired us out. I really didnt like it much, probably because not only was I doing double class but because my mother told the karate master to treat us as if we were his own children. It was intense, almost too much for me at that age. My sister started at four because my mother lied and said she was six, and Skipper would periodically fall asleep in the back of class. Our master took it in stride. He used to jump down my throat because I hated basics, detested forms, and most of all was horrible at one step. My master told me to try harder. I was like, "Hell no. I didnt come here for the forms. I didnt come here for the one step. I certainly am stomaching the basics. I came here for the free sparring."
I was good at the free sparring. It let me be a fighter. It let me get the aggression I needed to get out of my system on to the open air. Free sparring was what actually made karate worthwhile. I just couldn't deal with the other stuff.
I even quit karate for a time because I just felt stifled by the one step, the forms, the basics. They bored me to hell. I wanted to fight and everything else was just making me nuts. So my parents let me quit for a bit but they told me eventually after taking a break for a few months I would have to go back. They forced me back. I went. My folks said I could stop after black belt. So I was forced to tolerate the basics, forced to tolerate the one step, forced to tolerate the forms. But when sparring came, I was ready to go all Van Damme. My master, who knew I loved to fight to the point where I won trophies in tournaments for it, told me he would pair me up with guys. But he also made it clear not to cry if they hit too hard. I never did. Guys always put up a good fight. I liked it.
Time passed and I moved on to other things, partially because you have to wait two years to test for the next degree of black belt and I simply didnt have that patience. But the martial arts training was worth it. It altered my spirit. It made me able to stand up for myself. My first year of college I had an acting teacher-a bitch who has no career and will never have one-throw some shade in the worst kind of way. I was able to stand up to her and do what I needed to do to get away from that mentally unstable wannabe. It gave me confidence to deal with all the wannabes.
As for times I was in physical peril, it made me realize there was a difference between guts and cowardice. From the ex who stalked me and his gal posse, at the time they put fear into my system because they were so hateful and frequent. However, as time went on I began to realize my ex was not behaving like a man but rather a scared little boy. Not only was he being sneaky, but he would never meet me face to face for a real fight just like his gal pals. They were tough on the internet. However, they would never meet me in real time because that would involve real confrontation. And if they did I would be able to defend myself. I had the training after all.
As a matter of fact, there are people who believe that putting their kids in martial arts encouages fighting and bullying. No, the opposite. Martial arts teaches that a coward throws a punch to start with. A person with true courage takes every other route and uses fighting as a last resort, aka when they are truly in danger and have no other choice.
I really didn't get back into the whole martial arts thing until the winter of 2011. My friend Chacho had died as a result of his drug addiction. A colorful character, he made his choices and his choice was the drugs. As a result, we were not on speaking terms when he died. After he passed, I felt an overwhelming guilt and was just raging out all the time. Part of it stemmed from the guilt and sadness of closing a friend, and the other part of it stemmed from the fact I was not sleeping. After several days of wanting to walk down the street and working on accidentally running into someone so I could have an excuse to hit them, I decided this feeling of rage was not worth a potential felony charge. This was not what my karate master taught me to do. I went to my gym and saw that they had an early morning kickboxing and mixed martial arts class. I made it my business and went. I figured if I liked it I could keep going, and if not I gave it a shot. Plus I wasnt sleeping anyway, why not?
Well I ended up going and really liking it. Plus I love the instructor Jeanene who has several different blackbelts from several different places. Unlike childhood where my mother told the master to treat me as his own and forcing me to double classes and to clean the karate school, I wanted to go. Punching something brought me peace, focus, and most of all quelled the rage that built after my friend's death. It also gave me a new lease on life, making friends with people who were getting fit. Plus as a woman it never hurts to be up on self defense. I was quickly hooked and soon was going to morning and evening classes. Getting back into martial arts not only helped me balance my emotions, but also gave me an excuse to eat better because you need energy to do that exteme activity.
There have been several times martial arts has given me confidence in this past year, too. When I was dealing with a fan who began stalking me, I went to the cops. While it was scary, I was not afraid to stand up for myself. I talked to the friends who knew what was going on and got a strategy. Most of all, I was up on my self defense. Yes, I was a little fearful but I was able to go on with my life. Martial arts teaches you that someone can only bully you as much as you let them. And I wasn't going to let this person bully me.
On other occasions, because I am even spirited and have peace of mind, I am able to do things I only dreamed of as a kid like being on television, writing and publising a comedic memoir, but most of all being myself without the fear of redicule from others.
Recently I added another part of my martial arts practice as a child back into my regimen. That is meditation. We used to meditate before and after class when I was a kid and I used it as an excuse to sleep. I know, it was bad but hey. Now I am meditating again and doing it in conjunction with my kickboxing. It not only balances me out but gives me peace of mind, and when my mind is in shape my body can absorb my training.
As a part of my training I am making a living amends to my karate master. That is to pay more attention to form and technique as an adult and not to blow it off. There is a reason we do those things. Just as in Karate Kid, Daniel soon realized why he had to wax on and wax off after he stopped asking so many questions. Miawgi, you are a genius.
Today wasn't such a smooth day.My computer crashed out of no where. I was swamped at work and just as I was running everywhere I was talking to my publisher and was nearly careened by a mac truck. Well I got to my first stop and they couldnt find the recipient and everyone was talking to me at once and I snapped at the client out of pure frustration that she was leaving at a certain time, and my next delivery was leaving at a certain time and no one would work with me. Yes, I got an opinion, the demon in me got out of control. I was mad as hell. It was all about me. But then I remembered that the karate training from my childhood would have never condoned such egoism, such arrogance. It taught me fighting was a last resort, not a first resort, and loss of temper was a kissing cousin to that.
After being admonished by my boss, who like my childhood karate master is a Virgo, I ran uptown did the second delivery. Then after helping an old woman across the street it occurred to me that part of the training of karate was before fighting one of the other tactics was to try to appease and make right, as in if there is peace to be made do it. That is when I called my boss and apologized. I also offered to redeliver. The client was estatic. I called her later to make amends. It went well.
Then my mom called me back to give me feedback on something and said, "I have a feeling you just jotted this down to get this done." I wanted to scream.
Then I remembered there was a kickboxing class tonight.
That's when I decided that despite the tired I felt I needed to get out the anger and aggression from my day. So I got on my boxing clothes and got my gym bag. Best decision ever. Sometimes you have to street fight some imaginary people without the worry of getting arrested.
I feel good now that martial arts is back in my life. I feel more centered and want to do more of it whenever I can and wherever I can. Also, I dont just want to learn the moves and to fight but also the technique. I want to appriciate the art form too.
In closing I would like to clarify what a fighter is and is not. A fighter is not a violent person. Adam Lanza and James Holmes were violent people with anger issues. One went into a school and opened fire on a room of unarmed children, the other went into a movie theatre and opened fire on unarmed people. Those were not acts of standing up for onesself but rather acts of extreme cowardice that are so dispicable that they cannot even be described in words.
A fighter is someone who is not afraid to stand up for themselves and to stand up to a bully at any time by not being afraid. They use physical violence as a last resort, and never would they ever go after anyone weaker or unarmed. A fighter would only fight an opponent worth the fight, and would defend someone that is weaker. As a martial artist I am in the second class, as is any martial artist who is serious about the practice that they have the privledge of studying.
That is just a clarification to those who dont know the difference
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon
Come to my signing
12-27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Public Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102
December 18, 2012
My Haters, My Motivators
The other day I was out running errands when I saw a girl I knew first year of college. She still looked the same, dressing like she got her clothes out of a dumpster or perhaps off of some old drunken bag woman off the street. I hung out with her twice because during the first few weeks of college you sort of scope out who your friends will and won't be. We were making our way around the city on some sort of retarded outing that was supposed to bond us all as a mandatory suggestion of student life. I remember hitting it off with several of the people in the group-all except her.
She was a perpetual wet blanket. Everything that could be said that was cheerful she just put down. This woman was a black blob on a pastel painting. She quickly made it apparent that she didnt like me. At the time because I was so young it hurt that she didnt like me. What was I doing wrong? I was hitting it off with everyone else in the crew. It was a pain of knowing someone didnt like me and I didnt do or say anything bad to them?
What made her so ravenously hate me? Was it the puppets? Was it the big, fake eyelashes and terrible mascara I wore during that point in my life? Was it the fact that I was so desperate to make friends, almost too desperate? I remember my dad said maybe I came on too strong and my mom said I was better looking. Then of course some of my friends said it was my gnawing insecurity. She probably didnt like me or hate me, and it was just me. Well I was willing to think that until she actually told people she hated me. Did it hurt my feelings? Yes, because my first year of school was hellacious. There were three suicides, all in the library. Then a girl a floor up from me was raped by two men who lived on my floor but dropped the charges. A kid down the hall from me was a drug dealer and his partner-a huge fan of mine-was arrested by the feds. And this bitch was mean to me.
Well fast forward years later when they are gossiping about me as usual on an online message board. Someone wrote that they met me at the beginning of college, didnt like me, but took me in stride like the suicides. They also ripped on my terrible eye makeup. Immediately I knew who this was because she had said the same things about me. I didnt care. Our paths didnt cross anymore. And I always knew I would have the better career.
Well I gave the wet blanket no more thought until I went to run the simple errand and she turned up. She looked familiar and I could not place her. Who was she? I had only met her once or twice so she probably wasn't that important. But there was this pain like a knife to my gut, like a run. Like this person was not a friend despite the fact that she said hello. I didnt know why I got that feeling. Maybe I was crazy.
On my walk home I put two and two together.
I met this bitch at the beginning of college, she said she didn't like me, and she bad mouthed me on a message board. She still had the same sour expression on her face and the same terrible clothes. Just to do it, I looked her up and saw that life hadn't been kind to her. She keeps a blog where she bemoans that the industry does not recognize her talent. She whines about the fact that despite all of her qualifications and talent she cannot find an agent or an acting job. She claims she finds no fulfillment in her life. Bottom line, if you read her blog there is nothing that makes you say, "I am rooting for you. You deserve all the best." It's more like you are fat, ugly, and annoying, get a reality check.
Sure, life hasn't always been easy for me, and following the dream has it's challenges. But I am getting to go places she is never going to go because I work harder, have the better attitude, and am just more of a fighter. It's not because I am more talented, oh no. Here's the thing. She can say all she wants about my terrible eye makeup and puppets. But the only place anyone will listen to her is on the message board with the rest of the losers who whine about how life is not fair. It is the only way she can have a captive audience because no casting director would ever give her nasty puss an acting job. The closest she will ever get to my world is Gawker, VH1.com, and her television at home.
It should make me feel good, right?
No, it doesn't. Because jealousy is an ugly thing. Having been on the giving end it makes you feel good for a minute but then you feel drained because it gets you no where. Having been on the receiving end it has made me a changed person, and now I have learned to be happy for people because I know what it's like when people aren't happy for you. This woman in particular is someone who is very unhappy and can only focus on the lives of others, and therefore she can only complain about what she does not have. She can't be a doer because that would involve focusing on herself and that is too much. Her mind must be a terrible place to live and it must be a hellacious existence on the regular and I do feel very sorry for her.
I look at my life right now and I know I am where I am supposed to be. I am blessed to have a career that is taking off because I am doing the work on a continual basis. But it is because I refuse to give into the devil of envy and jealousy and will never let grass grow under my feet.
And when I see someone like her who I know was seething after that encounter, it makes me work harder. Say all you want about my eye makeup sweetheart, but the last time I checked I got more TV time in a week than you will in your entire career. But no matter, she can't dream, she can only foam at the mouth.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 w. libray ave
bethel park pa 15102
She was a perpetual wet blanket. Everything that could be said that was cheerful she just put down. This woman was a black blob on a pastel painting. She quickly made it apparent that she didnt like me. At the time because I was so young it hurt that she didnt like me. What was I doing wrong? I was hitting it off with everyone else in the crew. It was a pain of knowing someone didnt like me and I didnt do or say anything bad to them?
What made her so ravenously hate me? Was it the puppets? Was it the big, fake eyelashes and terrible mascara I wore during that point in my life? Was it the fact that I was so desperate to make friends, almost too desperate? I remember my dad said maybe I came on too strong and my mom said I was better looking. Then of course some of my friends said it was my gnawing insecurity. She probably didnt like me or hate me, and it was just me. Well I was willing to think that until she actually told people she hated me. Did it hurt my feelings? Yes, because my first year of school was hellacious. There were three suicides, all in the library. Then a girl a floor up from me was raped by two men who lived on my floor but dropped the charges. A kid down the hall from me was a drug dealer and his partner-a huge fan of mine-was arrested by the feds. And this bitch was mean to me.
Well fast forward years later when they are gossiping about me as usual on an online message board. Someone wrote that they met me at the beginning of college, didnt like me, but took me in stride like the suicides. They also ripped on my terrible eye makeup. Immediately I knew who this was because she had said the same things about me. I didnt care. Our paths didnt cross anymore. And I always knew I would have the better career.
Well I gave the wet blanket no more thought until I went to run the simple errand and she turned up. She looked familiar and I could not place her. Who was she? I had only met her once or twice so she probably wasn't that important. But there was this pain like a knife to my gut, like a run. Like this person was not a friend despite the fact that she said hello. I didnt know why I got that feeling. Maybe I was crazy.
On my walk home I put two and two together.
I met this bitch at the beginning of college, she said she didn't like me, and she bad mouthed me on a message board. She still had the same sour expression on her face and the same terrible clothes. Just to do it, I looked her up and saw that life hadn't been kind to her. She keeps a blog where she bemoans that the industry does not recognize her talent. She whines about the fact that despite all of her qualifications and talent she cannot find an agent or an acting job. She claims she finds no fulfillment in her life. Bottom line, if you read her blog there is nothing that makes you say, "I am rooting for you. You deserve all the best." It's more like you are fat, ugly, and annoying, get a reality check.
Sure, life hasn't always been easy for me, and following the dream has it's challenges. But I am getting to go places she is never going to go because I work harder, have the better attitude, and am just more of a fighter. It's not because I am more talented, oh no. Here's the thing. She can say all she wants about my terrible eye makeup and puppets. But the only place anyone will listen to her is on the message board with the rest of the losers who whine about how life is not fair. It is the only way she can have a captive audience because no casting director would ever give her nasty puss an acting job. The closest she will ever get to my world is Gawker, VH1.com, and her television at home.
It should make me feel good, right?
No, it doesn't. Because jealousy is an ugly thing. Having been on the giving end it makes you feel good for a minute but then you feel drained because it gets you no where. Having been on the receiving end it has made me a changed person, and now I have learned to be happy for people because I know what it's like when people aren't happy for you. This woman in particular is someone who is very unhappy and can only focus on the lives of others, and therefore she can only complain about what she does not have. She can't be a doer because that would involve focusing on herself and that is too much. Her mind must be a terrible place to live and it must be a hellacious existence on the regular and I do feel very sorry for her.
I look at my life right now and I know I am where I am supposed to be. I am blessed to have a career that is taking off because I am doing the work on a continual basis. But it is because I refuse to give into the devil of envy and jealousy and will never let grass grow under my feet.
And when I see someone like her who I know was seething after that encounter, it makes me work harder. Say all you want about my eye makeup sweetheart, but the last time I checked I got more TV time in a week than you will in your entire career. But no matter, she can't dream, she can only foam at the mouth.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com
Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 w. libray ave
bethel park pa 15102
