April E. Brucker's Blog, page 69
November 25, 2012
Disturbia (Rihanna)
A review of my brother Wendell on RateMyProfessor.com said that he was cute. Another review said that when the female students got drunk they talked about having his children. The females like my brother. Sure, he is cute I suppose. But to call sibling remotely attractive is weird and unnatural unless you are from a Red State, and by red I mean bright Alabama or Kentucky Red.
My brother's students think he is hot and is dismayed he is not teaching this semester. AHHH!!! My sister in law apparently knows about these reviews. She thinks they are funny. Nonetheless they still distress me to no end, as in disturb me. Do they know Wendell almost won the No Bathing Contest in High School? Do they know a woman called him once and he barked, "What do you want!"
Do they know the man they are crushing on?
Wendell is my brother. I suppose he is nice looking. Veronique seems to agree. I know they do married people stuff fill in the blanks. But I don't want to know anymore.
People say we look alike.
Boys hit on Skipper too. If I had my way she would be living in a castle and would let down her hair in secret to speak to them. Me, evil witch, would kill them off. I am protective of my sister.
Either way, the reviews from my brother's students were cute and sweet but slightly disturbing.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Amazon
Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park PA
My brother's students think he is hot and is dismayed he is not teaching this semester. AHHH!!! My sister in law apparently knows about these reviews. She thinks they are funny. Nonetheless they still distress me to no end, as in disturb me. Do they know Wendell almost won the No Bathing Contest in High School? Do they know a woman called him once and he barked, "What do you want!"
Do they know the man they are crushing on?
Wendell is my brother. I suppose he is nice looking. Veronique seems to agree. I know they do married people stuff fill in the blanks. But I don't want to know anymore.
People say we look alike.
Boys hit on Skipper too. If I had my way she would be living in a castle and would let down her hair in secret to speak to them. Me, evil witch, would kill them off. I am protective of my sister.
Either way, the reviews from my brother's students were cute and sweet but slightly disturbing.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Amazon
Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park PA
The Sun Always Shines on TV (A-ha)
I am feeling that post-turkey blues. In the vein of Thanksgiving there is much to be thankful for. My book is available overseas. One of my articles is being published on a highly trafficked website. I am making contacts to further my book. More on that later. Not to mention my whole family seems to be doing well. Still, there is this blues.
It is cold outside and I am beginning to hate the Northeast Winters. There is a part of me that loves New York and this place has become home. Some of me is not sure though. I hate the cold like no one else. There is a part of me that really wants to move to LA. I hate the cold. I know I have said it before. Plus I just have this feeling that I have done everything I am supposed to do in New York.
While I could do stage and Broadway, I am not a so-called stage actress. Not to mention Broadway wants a true triple threat. I act, sing well but not like some of my competition, and can tumble but don't dance. As for the standup, that used to be the focus. Then some things went down that I just won't get into because they still make me angry. The art form has been dead for years anyway. Plus I am a pariah amongst my so called peers for being an ambitious woman, shame on me for having goals and being pretty. Not to mention the smaller club owners don't like me because I don't fit in the imaginationless mold known as woman, on her knees pleasing them. The bigger club owners don't want me either because while I get on television like a hood girl pops out babies, easy, I am not a "big enough name." But the male comedian who has not done shit in years apparently is. And most bookers either like me or hate me. For everyone one that likes me three hate me. Again it's because I don't fit into this mold known as woman that they created in their male minds. Not to mention sometimes they just don't know what to do with me. I like to travel, meeting good audiences. But some audiences want to give me shit right away because I am a woman, a woman with a doll. It's a nice reminder that while the world is changing it is still a giant boys club.
I still perform if I like the venue, like the people producing, or am getting paid. All three are ideal. Otherwise, I am probably wasting my time with this so called "art form." Actually to call comedy an art form is generous. But I'll call it whatever it wants to be called as long as they let me sell my book. I am a whore that way.
These days the focus is my book of course as well as my videos and music. LA could be the perfect destination. But life would be different out there. For one I would have to learn how to drive and I have never gotten a license because I am atrocious behind a wheel. In between my road rage and too cautious around the turns I know I am terrible. What can I say? I'm a mess. Not to mention I would have to get bi-coastal management. I have been without a manager for years. I had one when I was younger but when I fired him I got on TV. Ironic. I freelanced with one guy who did not know how to send me out and place me at all. Then I still sort of freelance with one lady. She's nice but really doesn't have the connections. Having a manager means nothing in New York. I know plenty of friends who have them but are still bartending and having their headshots sit on shelves collecting dust never being called. In LA I hear it's essential. Still, they could waste more of my time. I actually do my own best work as my own booker, businessperson, and product.
Who needs a manager when you have you? Hence manager, the first three letters being m-a-n and in my experience they are u-s-e-l-e-s-s.
I am plotting my next move. Part of me wants to move to Europe, get big over there. I have had enough exposure and have fans in the UK. But I don't want to make the move unless I am sure.
There is a lot of thought going on, McRandom. The excess of turkey makes me have strange dreams. I had a dream last night that I was interviewing at Smith College and Diane Sawyer burst into my interview drunk and declared there was no way I was going to be accepted. The interviewer said they were split down the middle. Diane said I had no woman friends. I didn't know what this all meant. But I woke up relieved that it was nearly ten years later.
After that I went back to sleep and had a second dream where I was being seduced by a booker I once worked with who looks like a rat. We went on a romantic weekend. It was weird because in real time I think he is a weasel and so unattractive. Maybe it is this holiday madness getting to me. Not to mention being associated with this person would be career suicide. He's got a drug problem and claims to book people who don't even know him. Must be the turkey eating away at my brain.
Either way I can't wait for the holidays to be over. Christmas music will be playing in the stores annoying everyone. New Years Eve will be a reminder that I am getting older and that my goals are being reached and may never. Then we will be hit with winter. Okay, I am being a downer. Bring me my slut dresses and sunshine please. I miss them.
Maybe I need love. I know I am no prize. My ex fiance was a psycho stalker and I dated a compulsive liar. Oh and then there were the ex cons and the fugitive. I know a decent dude won't want me. Perhaps I am damned to the ex cons. But they dine and dash at the best places and steal the best presents.
Sigh.....
That's all for today.
Die Santa Die!
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Amazon
Book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park PA
It is cold outside and I am beginning to hate the Northeast Winters. There is a part of me that loves New York and this place has become home. Some of me is not sure though. I hate the cold like no one else. There is a part of me that really wants to move to LA. I hate the cold. I know I have said it before. Plus I just have this feeling that I have done everything I am supposed to do in New York.
While I could do stage and Broadway, I am not a so-called stage actress. Not to mention Broadway wants a true triple threat. I act, sing well but not like some of my competition, and can tumble but don't dance. As for the standup, that used to be the focus. Then some things went down that I just won't get into because they still make me angry. The art form has been dead for years anyway. Plus I am a pariah amongst my so called peers for being an ambitious woman, shame on me for having goals and being pretty. Not to mention the smaller club owners don't like me because I don't fit in the imaginationless mold known as woman, on her knees pleasing them. The bigger club owners don't want me either because while I get on television like a hood girl pops out babies, easy, I am not a "big enough name." But the male comedian who has not done shit in years apparently is. And most bookers either like me or hate me. For everyone one that likes me three hate me. Again it's because I don't fit into this mold known as woman that they created in their male minds. Not to mention sometimes they just don't know what to do with me. I like to travel, meeting good audiences. But some audiences want to give me shit right away because I am a woman, a woman with a doll. It's a nice reminder that while the world is changing it is still a giant boys club.
I still perform if I like the venue, like the people producing, or am getting paid. All three are ideal. Otherwise, I am probably wasting my time with this so called "art form." Actually to call comedy an art form is generous. But I'll call it whatever it wants to be called as long as they let me sell my book. I am a whore that way.
These days the focus is my book of course as well as my videos and music. LA could be the perfect destination. But life would be different out there. For one I would have to learn how to drive and I have never gotten a license because I am atrocious behind a wheel. In between my road rage and too cautious around the turns I know I am terrible. What can I say? I'm a mess. Not to mention I would have to get bi-coastal management. I have been without a manager for years. I had one when I was younger but when I fired him I got on TV. Ironic. I freelanced with one guy who did not know how to send me out and place me at all. Then I still sort of freelance with one lady. She's nice but really doesn't have the connections. Having a manager means nothing in New York. I know plenty of friends who have them but are still bartending and having their headshots sit on shelves collecting dust never being called. In LA I hear it's essential. Still, they could waste more of my time. I actually do my own best work as my own booker, businessperson, and product.
Who needs a manager when you have you? Hence manager, the first three letters being m-a-n and in my experience they are u-s-e-l-e-s-s.
I am plotting my next move. Part of me wants to move to Europe, get big over there. I have had enough exposure and have fans in the UK. But I don't want to make the move unless I am sure.
There is a lot of thought going on, McRandom. The excess of turkey makes me have strange dreams. I had a dream last night that I was interviewing at Smith College and Diane Sawyer burst into my interview drunk and declared there was no way I was going to be accepted. The interviewer said they were split down the middle. Diane said I had no woman friends. I didn't know what this all meant. But I woke up relieved that it was nearly ten years later.
After that I went back to sleep and had a second dream where I was being seduced by a booker I once worked with who looks like a rat. We went on a romantic weekend. It was weird because in real time I think he is a weasel and so unattractive. Maybe it is this holiday madness getting to me. Not to mention being associated with this person would be career suicide. He's got a drug problem and claims to book people who don't even know him. Must be the turkey eating away at my brain.
Either way I can't wait for the holidays to be over. Christmas music will be playing in the stores annoying everyone. New Years Eve will be a reminder that I am getting older and that my goals are being reached and may never. Then we will be hit with winter. Okay, I am being a downer. Bring me my slut dresses and sunshine please. I miss them.
Maybe I need love. I know I am no prize. My ex fiance was a psycho stalker and I dated a compulsive liar. Oh and then there were the ex cons and the fugitive. I know a decent dude won't want me. Perhaps I am damned to the ex cons. But they dine and dash at the best places and steal the best presents.
Sigh.....
That's all for today.
Die Santa Die!
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Amazon
Book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park PA
November 24, 2012
Dead Babies: A Brucker Family Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving with my family went smoothly for the most part. Our last evening out included seeing the new James Bond and going to Hibachi. The trip to Hibachi looked as if it was going to be a disaster. The waitress brought my father cold saki. When she finally warmed it up, the grill man, an Asian by the name of Charlie, began to do his magic. My dad, ever the germophobe remarked, "Could you clean that grill a little more over there?" My brother Wendell and I exchanged a glance. My Pops did not. But yes he did. Charlie however was a good sport. As the warm saki eased into my father's system he became jovial. During the course of having dinner cooked in the middle of the table Charlie was squirting saki into the mouths of the patrons. My dad was eager, so eager that he took a squirt for almost a minute. My dad became Charlie's biggest fan. He gave the saki chef a standing O and then a nice monetary reward. Age has changed my dad for the better. He votes Democrat, goes to Springsteen concerts, and even supports my dreams as an artist. Not to mention he is a college professor, loves his students, and his students love him in return. He talks about the young people making it the right way. Back in the day he voted Republican, hated Springsteen, and told me to "get a real job." I got my Pops one of my books too. He loves it so far. The man has changed for the better in sixty years.
So has my brother Wendell. At the Hibachi Wendell sat next to his wife Veronique. They shared sushi and kisses. As they have aged they have calmed down, but when they first started dating it was bizarre. In high school Wendell had been a football player, a shot putter, and a power lifter and had been a champion at all three. In college he had been captain of his football team. His favorite movies were anything with violence. Now it is whatever his wife likes. They still watch violent movies but she falls asleep and magically wakes up when they put a chick flick on. Wendell is finishing medical school with an MD/PhD and is currently working with transgendered kids at a free clinic in his town. He likes the work and is good with this population. Wendell treats them medically but also treats them like people, something the world fails to do. I was impressed by my brother. He has come a long way. Much like my father, in his thirty years he has changed for the better.
Some things, however, never change.
Once every holiday Wendell and my father have their mandatory fight. Usually it is because my brother Wendell says something and my father gets on a soapbox and won't back down. Instead of just letting it die Wendell keeps the issue alive, but my father is on his soapbox and must be heard and Wendell must fire back. There is screaming and yelling and usually awkward stares muffled with silent laughter from my mother, sister Skipper, and his wife Veronique. Happy holidays. This year was no different.
My sister in law Veronique was talking to her brother Pierre who is currently a medical resident. Pierre had lost a patient and was taking it hard. Veronique knew about loss because she is a child cancer specialist and occasionally loses young patients herself. Loss and death are hard. I have been to many a funeral where the person in the casket left a good looking corpse and it isn't easy on anyone. Wendell filled us in and said it was best not to ask. Skipper would have agreed except she was not in the mood to talk. She was doing what she was doing best, sleeping. This was after of course she put the DVD of Cowboy Del Amour: The Ivan Thompson Story in the player.
The fight then started. This is how the exchange went:
Wendell: Well Dad, Pierre is taking the loss of the patient hard. Veronique knows. They lost a baby at her clinic. So it's probably best not to bring it up when she comes downstairs.
Dad: I work in law enforcement with the prosecutor. Parents get upset when they lose children. The law gets involved because we have to. But babies die all the time.
Wendell: I know, and a baby died at her clinic.
Dad: Babies die all the time.
Wendell: Dad, that's not the point.
Dad: Babies die all the time.
Wendell: Dad-
Dad: Babies die all the time!
Wendell: That doesn't make it right.
Dad: I work in law enforcement. I see it quite a bit. Babies die all the time!
Wendell: That doesn't make it right!
Dad: Babies die! Babies die!
Wendell: I know babies die but it's not okay to have babies die!
Dad: Well babies die all the time! Babies die!
Now those two are arguing and it is getting awkward. Skipper has awoken to witness the fight. Ivan Thompson is on screen with some hopeless soul. My mother is just letting this roll possibly for her own amusement. I am trying not to laugh because they are just going back and fourth. It is the Scorpio father on a soapbox and the Gemini child who just won't get it. Finally I have had enough.
Me: Hey guys, see Ivan Thompson on the screen? He is fixing people up so that they can make living, healthy babies.
My father and Wendell still are not hearing me.
Wendell: Dad, you arent getting it.
Dad: You arent getting it. Babies die.
Me: Guys, look at all the living, healthy people who want to find love on the screen in this documentary. Much like us they were once healthy babies who grew into healthy adults.
Wendell is starting to defuse. There is hope. My father is on a roll though.
Dad: Babies die.
Me: Dad, one more word and that will be on the menu for Christmas.
My dad has finally gotten it. We all begin to watch Ivan Thompson try to find a bride for some reject in Mexico. The man has paid ten thousand dollars. My father and brother have shifted their focus on making fun of this man. We are a happy family once again.
But seriously, I am putting dead babies on the Christmas menu. They go quite well with stuffing and gravy.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Amazon
Come to my signing
DEember 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
So has my brother Wendell. At the Hibachi Wendell sat next to his wife Veronique. They shared sushi and kisses. As they have aged they have calmed down, but when they first started dating it was bizarre. In high school Wendell had been a football player, a shot putter, and a power lifter and had been a champion at all three. In college he had been captain of his football team. His favorite movies were anything with violence. Now it is whatever his wife likes. They still watch violent movies but she falls asleep and magically wakes up when they put a chick flick on. Wendell is finishing medical school with an MD/PhD and is currently working with transgendered kids at a free clinic in his town. He likes the work and is good with this population. Wendell treats them medically but also treats them like people, something the world fails to do. I was impressed by my brother. He has come a long way. Much like my father, in his thirty years he has changed for the better.
Some things, however, never change.
Once every holiday Wendell and my father have their mandatory fight. Usually it is because my brother Wendell says something and my father gets on a soapbox and won't back down. Instead of just letting it die Wendell keeps the issue alive, but my father is on his soapbox and must be heard and Wendell must fire back. There is screaming and yelling and usually awkward stares muffled with silent laughter from my mother, sister Skipper, and his wife Veronique. Happy holidays. This year was no different.
My sister in law Veronique was talking to her brother Pierre who is currently a medical resident. Pierre had lost a patient and was taking it hard. Veronique knew about loss because she is a child cancer specialist and occasionally loses young patients herself. Loss and death are hard. I have been to many a funeral where the person in the casket left a good looking corpse and it isn't easy on anyone. Wendell filled us in and said it was best not to ask. Skipper would have agreed except she was not in the mood to talk. She was doing what she was doing best, sleeping. This was after of course she put the DVD of Cowboy Del Amour: The Ivan Thompson Story in the player.
The fight then started. This is how the exchange went:
Wendell: Well Dad, Pierre is taking the loss of the patient hard. Veronique knows. They lost a baby at her clinic. So it's probably best not to bring it up when she comes downstairs.
Dad: I work in law enforcement with the prosecutor. Parents get upset when they lose children. The law gets involved because we have to. But babies die all the time.
Wendell: I know, and a baby died at her clinic.
Dad: Babies die all the time.
Wendell: Dad, that's not the point.
Dad: Babies die all the time.
Wendell: Dad-
Dad: Babies die all the time!
Wendell: That doesn't make it right.
Dad: I work in law enforcement. I see it quite a bit. Babies die all the time!
Wendell: That doesn't make it right!
Dad: Babies die! Babies die!
Wendell: I know babies die but it's not okay to have babies die!
Dad: Well babies die all the time! Babies die!
Now those two are arguing and it is getting awkward. Skipper has awoken to witness the fight. Ivan Thompson is on screen with some hopeless soul. My mother is just letting this roll possibly for her own amusement. I am trying not to laugh because they are just going back and fourth. It is the Scorpio father on a soapbox and the Gemini child who just won't get it. Finally I have had enough.
Me: Hey guys, see Ivan Thompson on the screen? He is fixing people up so that they can make living, healthy babies.
My father and Wendell still are not hearing me.
Wendell: Dad, you arent getting it.
Dad: You arent getting it. Babies die.
Me: Guys, look at all the living, healthy people who want to find love on the screen in this documentary. Much like us they were once healthy babies who grew into healthy adults.
Wendell is starting to defuse. There is hope. My father is on a roll though.
Dad: Babies die.
Me: Dad, one more word and that will be on the menu for Christmas.
My dad has finally gotten it. We all begin to watch Ivan Thompson try to find a bride for some reject in Mexico. The man has paid ten thousand dollars. My father and brother have shifted their focus on making fun of this man. We are a happy family once again.
But seriously, I am putting dead babies on the Christmas menu. They go quite well with stuffing and gravy.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Amazon
Come to my signing
DEember 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
November 23, 2012
Day After Thanksgiving
It is the day after Thanksgiving at Casa Brucker. My brother Wendell and his wifey Veronique are out on a walk. I guess that is married people stuff. My sister is still sleeping. I don't know how Skipper can sleep so long but she always does. My dad is lifting and my mom is AWOL. Perhaps that is married people stuff too. I don't know.
Yesterday and the day before were both incredible. My dad's surprise party went off without a hitch. He was surprised and well, that means it was a success. The food was good and each of his siblings did a toast. They told stories, even my grandma. My Uncle Don stole the show though. My Godfather drew stick figures of various memories from the time they were young to the time they were quite old. Apparently my Uncle Don was my dad's best man and needless to say, they had the bachelor party the night before the wedding and he was no where to be found. My Uncle James, a life long alcholic with a liver of steel knew what to do with the young man. He put him in the bath tub of my parents new house. In the days before cellphones no one could find him and this was a crisis. However, they did eventually find him in the tub-no water mind you-and got him to the church on time. But the whole presentation was hysterical, especially when he said I came out wearing red lipstick. Explains everything.
My grandmother surprised everyone with a story about my dad getting peed on by a skunk. My father denies this but it was funny to know that in his sixty years on the planet he had been peed on by a smelly woodland creature. Youth, childhood, parents. Family, they never forget and they never let you forget.
Of course my Uncle Jay talked about how my dad went to the Springsteen concert with them. Prior to the Springsteen Concert my dad hadn't liked the boss. But VIP tickets from his best friend at work made him start chanting Born in the USA. Needless to say my dad had his pocket scarf and off he went. I wondered what the hell happened to my father and when were they bringing him back? But when he began to call Romeny a poser and Rick Perry a moron I realized I liked the change. Now my dad is a Springsteen fan.
I saw my Aunt Dee, the wife of my Uncle Don both days and I would have to say I love her. We differ politically, but agree that there needs to be an easier solution. She is a bright lady, a pharmicist and bought three of my books. The whole family is reading it which is cool. By the way, Aunt Dee periodically reads my blog. Hi Aunt Dee! My baby cousin Colin went to Ireland with the Notre Dame Marching Band which was cool. Jamie and Jill both turned up. Jamie had me sign her book and we met her boyfriend Ryan. Meeting the family is stressful.
Of course there is my Mema Ralph, my dad's mom who is currently reading my book. She keeps a record of all the books she reads in a notebook stored in her underwear drawer-a place that no man or woman ever goes-at least I would hope. That is, no man or woman except for my grandmother. Anyway, I am entry number 2,000. Mind you this is in the midst of all the trash romance she reads. I will admit trash romance is a guilty pleasure of mine, but I always feel like I need to pray or take a bath after reading too many.
My Mom's family was good. My cousin Miera is now teaching at Emory. Her boyfriend Dill, a Southern Gentlemen, came up to visit as well. Lindsay my former dancer cousin and her husband Mike came with their baby son Malloy, who by the way recently turned two. Cousin Fred who works in an art gallery and is a painter and musician displayed some of his new work. My grandfather, since having his eyes fixed, has read my whole book. He yelled at me for some of my misadventures in the rougher areas of town. Then he told me a few of his own. Of course my grandmother-my mom's mom whom we call Nunni-dressed flamboyantly as usual and told outraegous stories. Luckily she didn't tell us about their sex life. She did that one Thanksgiving and needless to say the turkey came up the wrong end.
My Aunt Renee takes care of both my grandfather and grandmother in between stints at the Ren Faire. She is seeing one guy who works in a factory and does not drive but is a loyal Ren Faire participant. She was engaged to marr a man named Josh years ago but left him at the alter when Mick, her loser ex tried to make a comeback. Of course none of it panned out as Josh and Renee became Luke and Laura. Well now she is seeing Bob from the Ren Faire but is still in love with Josh and Josh is trying to make a comeback but it is just too much drama.
Casey is trying to be a visiting nurse, she is my cousin with the same birthday. I think she will be good at it and will be seeing the world which is exciting. She is young and this is the time to do it. Plus she is a cutie so she could snag a doctor.
My Aunt Laura took a job at Kohls working overnight for Black Friday and we all joked we would come and harass her. My cousin Apollo and I were all about going. However my Aunt Laura told us we could not. My Uncle Jay told my Aunt Laura she already had a job. But my Aunt Laura does clarical work and misses being around people. Her children, Baby Jay, Gabriel, and Jason all were busy the next day. Baby Jay is home from Case Western and is resuming his job at the bakery. Gabriel is delivering flowers now that his senior football season is over. Jason, a slight lad who aspires to play pro-baseball, is trying to sleep in but will be helping Big Jay with the lights.
My Uncle Francis and my Aunt Marie are active in local politics as per usual. We were missing little Frankie because he is travelling over seas with his band. However he had called to wish his mommy and daddy a good holiday. Aunt Violet and her kids, DJ and PJ were good. Both danced and sang their own renditions of popular songs.
My family all had various things to say about my book.
Dill and Miera: "We aren't readers because we travel a lot. So get the book on tape and let us know when you do."
Aunt Violet: "I read the whole thing in one sitting. It was wonderful. Was I Aunt Violent?" (My family members names have been changed)
Aunt Dee: "Great job April. To many more books."
Mema Ralph: "I am not that far through but you are entry 2000. I have been keeping my book in my underwear drawer."
Jamie: "Sign my book. It is awesome you wrote it. And put something in there about moldy cheese." (Inside family joke)
Fred: "I have yet to read your book, is there any symbolism?"
Grandpa: "Loved your book. No more going into rough areas."
Uncle Don: That was cool you wrote the book April. Good job. Knew you were born with red lipstick.
My Mom: I am so proud of you baby!
Aunt Marie: Awesome.
My Dad: Well it's selling.
This Thanksgiving, for as much as they make me crazy, I am truly blessed to have my family. They are insane, colorful, but when push comes to shove they are there not just to crack me up but to have my back.
Gift from God is an understatement.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
come to my book signing
Bethel Park Library
Bethel Park PA
5100 w. Library Ave
12-27-12
7pm
Yesterday and the day before were both incredible. My dad's surprise party went off without a hitch. He was surprised and well, that means it was a success. The food was good and each of his siblings did a toast. They told stories, even my grandma. My Uncle Don stole the show though. My Godfather drew stick figures of various memories from the time they were young to the time they were quite old. Apparently my Uncle Don was my dad's best man and needless to say, they had the bachelor party the night before the wedding and he was no where to be found. My Uncle James, a life long alcholic with a liver of steel knew what to do with the young man. He put him in the bath tub of my parents new house. In the days before cellphones no one could find him and this was a crisis. However, they did eventually find him in the tub-no water mind you-and got him to the church on time. But the whole presentation was hysterical, especially when he said I came out wearing red lipstick. Explains everything.
My grandmother surprised everyone with a story about my dad getting peed on by a skunk. My father denies this but it was funny to know that in his sixty years on the planet he had been peed on by a smelly woodland creature. Youth, childhood, parents. Family, they never forget and they never let you forget.
Of course my Uncle Jay talked about how my dad went to the Springsteen concert with them. Prior to the Springsteen Concert my dad hadn't liked the boss. But VIP tickets from his best friend at work made him start chanting Born in the USA. Needless to say my dad had his pocket scarf and off he went. I wondered what the hell happened to my father and when were they bringing him back? But when he began to call Romeny a poser and Rick Perry a moron I realized I liked the change. Now my dad is a Springsteen fan.
I saw my Aunt Dee, the wife of my Uncle Don both days and I would have to say I love her. We differ politically, but agree that there needs to be an easier solution. She is a bright lady, a pharmicist and bought three of my books. The whole family is reading it which is cool. By the way, Aunt Dee periodically reads my blog. Hi Aunt Dee! My baby cousin Colin went to Ireland with the Notre Dame Marching Band which was cool. Jamie and Jill both turned up. Jamie had me sign her book and we met her boyfriend Ryan. Meeting the family is stressful.
Of course there is my Mema Ralph, my dad's mom who is currently reading my book. She keeps a record of all the books she reads in a notebook stored in her underwear drawer-a place that no man or woman ever goes-at least I would hope. That is, no man or woman except for my grandmother. Anyway, I am entry number 2,000. Mind you this is in the midst of all the trash romance she reads. I will admit trash romance is a guilty pleasure of mine, but I always feel like I need to pray or take a bath after reading too many.
My Mom's family was good. My cousin Miera is now teaching at Emory. Her boyfriend Dill, a Southern Gentlemen, came up to visit as well. Lindsay my former dancer cousin and her husband Mike came with their baby son Malloy, who by the way recently turned two. Cousin Fred who works in an art gallery and is a painter and musician displayed some of his new work. My grandfather, since having his eyes fixed, has read my whole book. He yelled at me for some of my misadventures in the rougher areas of town. Then he told me a few of his own. Of course my grandmother-my mom's mom whom we call Nunni-dressed flamboyantly as usual and told outraegous stories. Luckily she didn't tell us about their sex life. She did that one Thanksgiving and needless to say the turkey came up the wrong end.
My Aunt Renee takes care of both my grandfather and grandmother in between stints at the Ren Faire. She is seeing one guy who works in a factory and does not drive but is a loyal Ren Faire participant. She was engaged to marr a man named Josh years ago but left him at the alter when Mick, her loser ex tried to make a comeback. Of course none of it panned out as Josh and Renee became Luke and Laura. Well now she is seeing Bob from the Ren Faire but is still in love with Josh and Josh is trying to make a comeback but it is just too much drama.
Casey is trying to be a visiting nurse, she is my cousin with the same birthday. I think she will be good at it and will be seeing the world which is exciting. She is young and this is the time to do it. Plus she is a cutie so she could snag a doctor.
My Aunt Laura took a job at Kohls working overnight for Black Friday and we all joked we would come and harass her. My cousin Apollo and I were all about going. However my Aunt Laura told us we could not. My Uncle Jay told my Aunt Laura she already had a job. But my Aunt Laura does clarical work and misses being around people. Her children, Baby Jay, Gabriel, and Jason all were busy the next day. Baby Jay is home from Case Western and is resuming his job at the bakery. Gabriel is delivering flowers now that his senior football season is over. Jason, a slight lad who aspires to play pro-baseball, is trying to sleep in but will be helping Big Jay with the lights.
My Uncle Francis and my Aunt Marie are active in local politics as per usual. We were missing little Frankie because he is travelling over seas with his band. However he had called to wish his mommy and daddy a good holiday. Aunt Violet and her kids, DJ and PJ were good. Both danced and sang their own renditions of popular songs.
My family all had various things to say about my book.
Dill and Miera: "We aren't readers because we travel a lot. So get the book on tape and let us know when you do."
Aunt Violet: "I read the whole thing in one sitting. It was wonderful. Was I Aunt Violent?" (My family members names have been changed)
Aunt Dee: "Great job April. To many more books."
Mema Ralph: "I am not that far through but you are entry 2000. I have been keeping my book in my underwear drawer."
Jamie: "Sign my book. It is awesome you wrote it. And put something in there about moldy cheese." (Inside family joke)
Fred: "I have yet to read your book, is there any symbolism?"
Grandpa: "Loved your book. No more going into rough areas."
Uncle Don: That was cool you wrote the book April. Good job. Knew you were born with red lipstick.
My Mom: I am so proud of you baby!
Aunt Marie: Awesome.
My Dad: Well it's selling.
This Thanksgiving, for as much as they make me crazy, I am truly blessed to have my family. They are insane, colorful, but when push comes to shove they are there not just to crack me up but to have my back.
Gift from God is an understatement.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
come to my book signing
Bethel Park Library
Bethel Park PA
5100 w. Library Ave
12-27-12
7pm
November 21, 2012
Princess Dropped Down to Earth Part 3: Vacuuming
It has been a busy day today at Casa Brucker and it isn't even noon. Today is my dad's 60th birthday. When you think of it, that is a huge milestone. He has had a rough year health wise. My Pop had nose surgery a month ago, and then before that they were scared he was having a stroke during a stress test. He exercises on the regular though, and even attended a Springsteen Concert. My Pops also voted Obama, so how bad could he be, right?
Anyway, today is insanely busy because we are having a surprise party for my dad tonight...SHHHH!!!! He thinks he is having dinner with my grandma and my aunt and uncle. Plus he is blissfully unaware that my brother and his wife are coming in tonight as well. He thinks they are flying in tomorrow. But the whole family will be there which will be nice. It will be nice then. Now my mother, well she is just flipping out.
Already today she has agonized over should we give him the presents before or after the party so we aren't obvious. How do we sneak him in? Where do we hide the gifts? Not to mention the dance moves for our happy birthday song. I told her I needed another cup of coffee before this convo.
I went on my run to burn off all the food I have been stuffing in my mouth. My old high school has been ripped down. They have built a new one. A piece of me has been destroyed-my life. On the flipside all the crap memories called high school have been destroyed too. Some things change, some things stay the same.
Some things stay the same.
When I got home my mom was cleaning and putting pool stuff in the hot tub. Then she yells, "Can you vacuum?"
"What?" I yell. There is banging because there are fifty chores happening at once. My mom is a Libra with Capricorn and Gemini rising. It must look pretty but it also is chaos in the process.
"Can you VACUUM?!? THE VACUUM IS RIGHT THERE." My mom says as she is spaying the hot tub.
"Do I have a choice?" I ask.
"No." She says.
"This is my vacation." I whine.
"Do you see me resting? You must vacuum!" My mother commands.
That settles it. I must vacuum. I go over the carpet once, twice, three times. Then my mom yells, "Don't forget to do the stairs."
I lug the monster up the stairs. Ouch! I have failed Domestic Goddess Class. I will never have a man. I am a career woman. I was on The Today Show with my lazy puppet children. They should be vacuuming. People recognize them, especially May Wilson. She really needs to step up her game. Wait, girl made other plans. I was featured in Gawker and they were gossipping about us. People like us don't vacuum.
Wait, yes we do.
"Make sure you get the foier and then the steps going upstairs." My mother commands. She is less tha five feet tall and means business.
Is this the time where I remind her less than a month and a half ago I was featured on Britney Spears's website? Britney Spears probably never has to vacuum. I try making that arguement. Then I remember she is still the mother. I am the child. This is her home and her domain. Sure I can pull the diva trip. But my mom is a trainer. She runs and swims daily. She teaches seven days a week. My mom can kick my ass and just might.
Grudgingly I do as I am told. I have no choice. The chore of vacuuming is ego reducing. As I run the vacuum I secretly hope I will wake my sister Skipper up. Why does she get to sleep until noon basically and I am stuck with all the chores? I ask my mother this and she remarks that Skipper is a fragile child.
Fragile my ass. I have vacuumed and now this! Skipper is doing the trash. I put this out in the air. My mom agrees but Skipper is slick. Skipper will find some way to make me take up the trash. People featured in Chat Magazine don't take out the trash. Yes we do. I will probably be taking out the trash later. What am I talking about?
There will be more cooking and more cleaning I am sure. I can picture me holding a Pulitizer Prize/Academy Award/Emmy/Tony and my mother saying, "That's great, but we are having a party in an hour to celebrate. The neighbors are coming. Could you do me a favor and vacuum?"
I would say, "Do I have a choice?"
And my mother would say, "No." And then she would put the vacuum in my hand.
I would tell her David Sedaris/Kate Winslet, Jay Leno/Hugh Jackman don't have to vacuum. And then I would remember that when they come home, their mom's house is still their mom's house. Much like me, they probably have to vacuum, mop, cook/clean, and take out the trash. As a matter of fact I got to work with Jeff Foxworthy once. I have a feeling his wife is sending him out to get the ingrediants for the stuffing about now, and as he is on his way I have a feeling Lynn Spears has Britney busy dusting.
The space ship has landed. My tiara is lopsided. The Puppet Princess is home and must cook lunch.
Some things never change. xo
Love,
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang
Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
Come to my signing
December 27,2012
Bethel Park Public Library
Bethel Park, PA
5100 West Library Avenue
7pm
Anyway, today is insanely busy because we are having a surprise party for my dad tonight...SHHHH!!!! He thinks he is having dinner with my grandma and my aunt and uncle. Plus he is blissfully unaware that my brother and his wife are coming in tonight as well. He thinks they are flying in tomorrow. But the whole family will be there which will be nice. It will be nice then. Now my mother, well she is just flipping out.
Already today she has agonized over should we give him the presents before or after the party so we aren't obvious. How do we sneak him in? Where do we hide the gifts? Not to mention the dance moves for our happy birthday song. I told her I needed another cup of coffee before this convo.
I went on my run to burn off all the food I have been stuffing in my mouth. My old high school has been ripped down. They have built a new one. A piece of me has been destroyed-my life. On the flipside all the crap memories called high school have been destroyed too. Some things change, some things stay the same.
Some things stay the same.
When I got home my mom was cleaning and putting pool stuff in the hot tub. Then she yells, "Can you vacuum?"
"What?" I yell. There is banging because there are fifty chores happening at once. My mom is a Libra with Capricorn and Gemini rising. It must look pretty but it also is chaos in the process.
"Can you VACUUM?!? THE VACUUM IS RIGHT THERE." My mom says as she is spaying the hot tub.
"Do I have a choice?" I ask.
"No." She says.
"This is my vacation." I whine.
"Do you see me resting? You must vacuum!" My mother commands.
That settles it. I must vacuum. I go over the carpet once, twice, three times. Then my mom yells, "Don't forget to do the stairs."
I lug the monster up the stairs. Ouch! I have failed Domestic Goddess Class. I will never have a man. I am a career woman. I was on The Today Show with my lazy puppet children. They should be vacuuming. People recognize them, especially May Wilson. She really needs to step up her game. Wait, girl made other plans. I was featured in Gawker and they were gossipping about us. People like us don't vacuum.
Wait, yes we do.
"Make sure you get the foier and then the steps going upstairs." My mother commands. She is less tha five feet tall and means business.
Is this the time where I remind her less than a month and a half ago I was featured on Britney Spears's website? Britney Spears probably never has to vacuum. I try making that arguement. Then I remember she is still the mother. I am the child. This is her home and her domain. Sure I can pull the diva trip. But my mom is a trainer. She runs and swims daily. She teaches seven days a week. My mom can kick my ass and just might.
Grudgingly I do as I am told. I have no choice. The chore of vacuuming is ego reducing. As I run the vacuum I secretly hope I will wake my sister Skipper up. Why does she get to sleep until noon basically and I am stuck with all the chores? I ask my mother this and she remarks that Skipper is a fragile child.
Fragile my ass. I have vacuumed and now this! Skipper is doing the trash. I put this out in the air. My mom agrees but Skipper is slick. Skipper will find some way to make me take up the trash. People featured in Chat Magazine don't take out the trash. Yes we do. I will probably be taking out the trash later. What am I talking about?
There will be more cooking and more cleaning I am sure. I can picture me holding a Pulitizer Prize/Academy Award/Emmy/Tony and my mother saying, "That's great, but we are having a party in an hour to celebrate. The neighbors are coming. Could you do me a favor and vacuum?"
I would say, "Do I have a choice?"
And my mother would say, "No." And then she would put the vacuum in my hand.
I would tell her David Sedaris/Kate Winslet, Jay Leno/Hugh Jackman don't have to vacuum. And then I would remember that when they come home, their mom's house is still their mom's house. Much like me, they probably have to vacuum, mop, cook/clean, and take out the trash. As a matter of fact I got to work with Jeff Foxworthy once. I have a feeling his wife is sending him out to get the ingrediants for the stuffing about now, and as he is on his way I have a feeling Lynn Spears has Britney busy dusting.
The space ship has landed. My tiara is lopsided. The Puppet Princess is home and must cook lunch.
Some things never change. xo
Love,
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang
Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
Come to my signing
December 27,2012
Bethel Park Public Library
Bethel Park, PA
5100 West Library Avenue
7pm
November 20, 2012
Princess Dropped Down to Earth Part Deux: The Hair Cut
Growing up my mom always had a way around things. Woman always gets her way hell or high water. Sometimes it is genius, sometimes it is hair brained. Today was hair brained. Usually when my mother is engineering some scheme I am her unwitting right hand. Whether I was eight, eighteen or twenty eight. To make a long story short my father's birthday is tomorrow and my mom wants to look great. She had her hair cut but her hairdresser was having a boyfriend crisis and gave her some bizarre looking mullet type of cut. My mother was beside herself and had me cut her hair. This is how the whole thing went down.
Mom: April, will you cut my hair?
Me: Sure. You mean trim that mullet in the back?
Mom: Yes. We need to into the bathroom. I have the perfect pair of scissors. I can't believe Lizzie did this to me. Maybe I should call Lizzie and have her squeeze me in.
Me: Yeah. I hang around hair dressers. I dont cut hair.
My mom runs down the stairs. I am off the hook.
Mom shouts from landing
Mom: I don't feel like driving over there and your father is coming home soon. Cut my hair now!
Mom thrusts the scissors in my hand.
Mom: I want a centimeter or two off like this.
Mom demonstrates with fingers.
I begin trimming.
Mom: No, not like that. I don't want you to cut my hair straight across like a man. I want the cut up and down like shark teeth. Let me demonstrate.
My mom demonstrates the cutting technique clearly out of my skill range.
Me: You should do this. You have a better idea of what you want.
Mom: Shark teeth. You can do this.
Me: How about I trim the back? Get rid of your mullet. I am not a hair dresser but that I can do well.
I begin to cut.
Mom: No! Not straight across. Shark teeth!
Me: I have never cut hair before! This is a free cut! You wanted to save money and time well here you go!
Mom: It is my holiday and I want a shark tooth cut! My daughter will give me a shark tooth cut!
I grugingly begin cutting. I now have no choice.
Mom: Up and down, the jagged edges, up and down. (Repeat three times)
Me: Mom, my friends in hair school diagramed for six weeks until they attempted a cut like this.
Mom: You are doing a great job.
My mom has second thoughs about her compliment
Mom: You didn't get the other side. Now one side is longer than the other!
Me: I hate you.
Mom: Stop being an asshole and cut my hair.
Me: You're the asshole, screw you! I never cut hair and now I am. You get what you get. You should have asked Dad.
Mom: Oh him? The last time he cut my hair it was atrocious.
April: Serves you right.
Mom: I love you. Now cut my hair on the other side please.
Me: Okay.
Grudgingly I cut the other side in silence. My mother periodically commands me. I have surrendered to the madness.
Finally we are done.
Mom: Oh shit, now I have to clean this up.
April: You wanted a hair cut, remember?
Mom: And now there's no blonde left in my hair. Only dark roots.
Me: Sorry, you wanted it cut short. You wanted the shark teeth. I gave you what you wanted.
Mom: I need to color it.
April: Do you have hair coloring?
Mom: No.
April: Then go get some.
Mom: I am going to the Rite Aid.
April: Tell Skipper it's her turn. My sister has done nothing all day.
Mom goes to leave.
I go downstairs. Mom is having tea.
Me: Did you go to the Rite Aid? Are you going?
Mom: No, your dad's gonna be home and it's time to cook dinner.
Me: Okay.
Mom: By the way we are having shrimp. I need you to see which pack is the freshest.
I turn over all three packs. One says use best by 2-1-11, the other says use best by 2-1-12.
April: Mom, one pack is a year and a half old and the other is several months old. How long have you had these shrimp in the freezer?
Mom: Oh I just forgot about them.
Mom goes to throw them away.
Mom pulls out another pack. It says use by 2-1-13.
Me: This one is more current.
Mom: Then throw them in. Pasta and shrimp for dinner.
To Be Continued.
I love my mom, she is the greatest woman in the world. Not only is she sweet and endearing with a capacity to feel deeply and a passion for personal fitness, but she is funny as hell.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
Come to my book signing
12-27-12
Bethel Park Public Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
7pm xo
Mom: April, will you cut my hair?
Me: Sure. You mean trim that mullet in the back?
Mom: Yes. We need to into the bathroom. I have the perfect pair of scissors. I can't believe Lizzie did this to me. Maybe I should call Lizzie and have her squeeze me in.
Me: Yeah. I hang around hair dressers. I dont cut hair.
My mom runs down the stairs. I am off the hook.
Mom shouts from landing
Mom: I don't feel like driving over there and your father is coming home soon. Cut my hair now!
Mom thrusts the scissors in my hand.
Mom: I want a centimeter or two off like this.
Mom demonstrates with fingers.
I begin trimming.
Mom: No, not like that. I don't want you to cut my hair straight across like a man. I want the cut up and down like shark teeth. Let me demonstrate.
My mom demonstrates the cutting technique clearly out of my skill range.
Me: You should do this. You have a better idea of what you want.
Mom: Shark teeth. You can do this.
Me: How about I trim the back? Get rid of your mullet. I am not a hair dresser but that I can do well.
I begin to cut.
Mom: No! Not straight across. Shark teeth!
Me: I have never cut hair before! This is a free cut! You wanted to save money and time well here you go!
Mom: It is my holiday and I want a shark tooth cut! My daughter will give me a shark tooth cut!
I grugingly begin cutting. I now have no choice.
Mom: Up and down, the jagged edges, up and down. (Repeat three times)
Me: Mom, my friends in hair school diagramed for six weeks until they attempted a cut like this.
Mom: You are doing a great job.
My mom has second thoughs about her compliment
Mom: You didn't get the other side. Now one side is longer than the other!
Me: I hate you.
Mom: Stop being an asshole and cut my hair.
Me: You're the asshole, screw you! I never cut hair and now I am. You get what you get. You should have asked Dad.
Mom: Oh him? The last time he cut my hair it was atrocious.
April: Serves you right.
Mom: I love you. Now cut my hair on the other side please.
Me: Okay.
Grudgingly I cut the other side in silence. My mother periodically commands me. I have surrendered to the madness.
Finally we are done.
Mom: Oh shit, now I have to clean this up.
April: You wanted a hair cut, remember?
Mom: And now there's no blonde left in my hair. Only dark roots.
Me: Sorry, you wanted it cut short. You wanted the shark teeth. I gave you what you wanted.
Mom: I need to color it.
April: Do you have hair coloring?
Mom: No.
April: Then go get some.
Mom: I am going to the Rite Aid.
April: Tell Skipper it's her turn. My sister has done nothing all day.
Mom goes to leave.
I go downstairs. Mom is having tea.
Me: Did you go to the Rite Aid? Are you going?
Mom: No, your dad's gonna be home and it's time to cook dinner.
Me: Okay.
Mom: By the way we are having shrimp. I need you to see which pack is the freshest.
I turn over all three packs. One says use best by 2-1-11, the other says use best by 2-1-12.
April: Mom, one pack is a year and a half old and the other is several months old. How long have you had these shrimp in the freezer?
Mom: Oh I just forgot about them.
Mom goes to throw them away.
Mom pulls out another pack. It says use by 2-1-13.
Me: This one is more current.
Mom: Then throw them in. Pasta and shrimp for dinner.
To Be Continued.
I love my mom, she is the greatest woman in the world. Not only is she sweet and endearing with a capacity to feel deeply and a passion for personal fitness, but she is funny as hell.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
Come to my book signing
12-27-12
Bethel Park Public Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
7pm xo
