Dancing In the Dark (Bruce Springsteen)

This has been a surreal week for me. Last night I got news my grandfather, Pop Pop, had emerged from death's door. The man was amazing. Twenty years ago he had a blood clot and was gonna die. He beat that. After that he had skin cancer and prostrate cancer. He beat that too. In that mix he also had some heart stuff. He beat that too. I think he survived World War II in Japan. A lot had happened. Then this morning I got news my grandfather passed away in his sleep. My grandmother, Nunni, a mercurial white haired woman who passed this spring, probably greeted him when he woke up in heaven. I got a call from my mother that things got so bad she begged my grandmother to come fetch my grandfather. Nunni answered.

The night before had been crazy. I had a mini meltdown when I received some disappointing news about a project pertaining to my book. I tried to tell myself that these weren't the people to help me. All week things had been hard. Another project had difficulties. Two weeks before were spent prepping for a network audition. I was sick and thought at one point I had some form of whatever. And then there is the usual he said she said bullshit of my line of work. I thought maybe I would get a break.

On the flipside, my Pop Pop is no longer in pain. He is happy and playing tennis. He is with his brothers and sisters who love him. He went out of this world knowing he was cared for and loved. He was ninety-five when he made his great exit. Fred Wallisch had six kids who grew up to be champion swimmers, coaches, teachers, lawyers, dentists, actors, and artists. His grandchildren were artists who had their work shown internationally, ballet dancers who danced with city ballet, professors, athletes currently prepping for Olympic trials, doctors, writers, and comedians. My Pop Pop lived to see me be on national TV and was the first to buy my book. He was so jealous when I got to go to the US Open because he was a huge tennis fan.

All day I have been in a weird limbo. While I know my Pop Pop is at peace I feel a weird sensation like it has been hard as hell to focus. This morning I delivered a singing chicken to the son of a Saudi Royal in Trump Towers. In a strange LSD like trip I ran across Sixth Avenue to get there and all along the way were these floats. Huge balloon floats. My beloved Pop Pop is dead and I am seeing huge balloon floats. Then I figured I would take some photos. People were pretty okay. Not bad. Plus my Pop Pop was someone who always looked at the bright side. The bright side was I found myself smack dab in the middle of the Macy's Day Parade. Who can be sad when you see an inflatable Papa Smurf?

The son of the Saudi Royal was not happy about seeing me, but his cousin tipped me $100. Makes up for having a death in the family I suppose. My brain felt like it was unraveling at a furious speed.

My second delivery was to Long Island. This was also kind of surreal. The family saw me as the cab was dropping me off and invited me in. I said I was a friend of Judy's, the contact. Anyway Judy wasnt there. I thought this was her house. It was almost two. Apparently people arrive late. I was supposed to call Judy first. Anyway I changed and the mother was nice but she wanted me the fuck out of her house. The rest of the family was warm and talked to me in the turkey costume, waiting for everyone else to show up. As I was waiting to sing, Judy arrived with some kids. The mother pulled Judy in the kitchen. There was something wrong. There was some yelling. WTF...Okay.

I sang and the family seemed to enjoy it, but there was this feeling in the room that was odd, and there was dead silence after I read the message. Finally I read the message. The mother angrily said, "Let me see it." She looked at it and ripped it up. "This is nonsense! Their nerve!" She screamed and stormed into the kitchen

The grandmother asked me kindly to pick it up as she reassembled the message. Clearly I had missed something. I apologized several times to the family who all assured me I was just doing my job and I had no way of knowing I walked into a land mine. They were quite nice, especially when they helped me out the back quietly as the mother was swearing her head off. What the hell had happened? This was a stunning strange dream. Grandpa was dead. I had run across the Macy's parade where a giant elf had greeted me. A Saudi Royal hates me forever for waking him, and his family tipped me generously. Oh and I accidentally poured salt on a festering wound for a bunch of strangers. All is costume.

The train ride home had me reevaluating my day as well as my life. What would be next? Did I know where I was going? Maybe it was time to move home. This had been a hellacious month that was just not getting any better. Just then I remembered when my grandfather found out I was performing comedy. He cut out a bunch of jokes from Reader's Digest and sent them to me. He also cut out his favorite Bob Hope jokes. A lot of family members tried to steer me away from the stage but Pop Pop always supported me and believed in me. The man was always telling funny stories. Always encouraging me.Always making someone laugh.

I found myself hoping maybe I could heal the familial pain these strangers felt. Because when you lose someone, it's too late.

I also found myself in a dark hole. Then I remembered the words of a veteran comedian who gave me a pep talk during another dark time in my life. A big black man, he said in a booming voice, "Sweetheart, when times get tough and you think you might never laugh again, you reach for God and you reach for the punchline."

So I did what I have always done during hard times. I took out a piece of paper and began to write. My Pop Pop lived as long as he did and conquered cancer all the times in a row for a reason. The man never let anything get him down. So as the jokes poured out of my veins, some may be gold some may be mold, I knew one thing was for sure. I wasn't just gonna be fine. When I was done climbing out of this dark hole there might be a new half hour set at the end.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com

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

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

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
 

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
 

Princess Dropped Back to Earth: Pre-Thanksgiving Adventures

I am back in Pittsburgh. This means only one puppet and it's all about the business. I am cooking and cleaning too. It's weird being back home. Some things change, some things stay the same. I am about ten years older than I was when I left. There is still a part of me that is soft, loves Pumpkin Pie. There is a part of me the big city had hardened. I guess adulthood changes you. Part of me is like, "I want my mommy!"

Then when she shoves a vacuum in my hand I am like, "Eh, maybe I like this adulthood thing better than I thought."

The day before I left I had to unclog my sink. My apartment looks like a bunker. Then again, I am promoting a book. My book is now available overseas which is exciting!!!!Go here to find out more  http://irishcountry.ie/index.php/i-came-i-saw-i-sang-memoirs-of-a-singing-telegram-delivery-girl.html

Anyway I had to go to the hardware store to buy Drano. YUCK! That was an adventure. Which Drano do I buy? Not the kind that makes meth. Wait they all make meth. Bad joke and I couldn't resist.

Today we are doing all the pre-prep work for Thanksgiving. We are getting the pies and getting ready to surprise my dad for his birthday. Don't tell him. I have go get him a present too. I don't know what I am getting him yet. Almost got him a book but didnt know which one to get him.

Some girl who used to date the quarterback and graduated with my brother is getting married. I remember when she was a ditz, now she will be  a married ditz. She still has terrible peroxide blonde hair. My gay haidresser friends say that stuff is bad for your roots. Woman, how do you have a scalp.

My mom is already pestering me with morning chores. My nails are chipped like a homeless crackhead begging for your change. My lips are a little chapped. My mom is also telling me that my nails are chipped and my lips are a little chapped. But she did like the new Spiderman. Somethings do stay the same.

Somethings change. My sister was interviewing to match for her residency. These days her hair is one color. I never thought that would happen. In high school she was blonde, eggplant, red, eggplant again, red again, blonde again but for the last few years has managed to be almond colored. Who would have thought the kid would stick with one shade? Then again J. Lo never did.

I am currently rethinking my stance on love after seeing Spiderman. I believe in love again and want it for Christmas. But once I get it I will mess it up. I know I'm a mess. What else is new. Still, my messiness makes for good stories. Within the last year I dated a comedy legend, convicted felon turned fugitive, dead beat father, washed up reality tv star, and wannabe sound engineer. Who's next? After Hurricane Sandy I would say the Con Ed line guy.

Anyway, that's what's new here. I will be cooking turkey Thursday and eating all day. Tomorrow is my dad's birthday.

YIKES! SO MUCH TO DO!

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
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Black Friday

It is the day after Thanksgiving and sadly I hardly know what to do with myself. I have gas, terrible horrible turkey gas. It is an embarrassing sort of thing. As a matter of fact all day long I have been gassing it worse than some poor Mexican living on an all taco diet. I am talking like someone who should be on The Blue Collar Comedy Tour. Then again I did have the pleasure of appearing in a commercial with Jeff Foxworthy and do remember he was a nice guy. Still this turkey makes someone embarrassed to go out. How will I ever find a suitable man with a job?

I am currently at Myrtle Beach at the shore with my family. So far it has been a good trip. My brother and his wife came in. It is so weird having my brother married. He has currently been married for eighteen months. There are some half way houses and drug programs that give chips and things for people who stay clean and sober for eighteen months. Plus if this was a celebrity marriage it would have been over already my brother was so quick to point out. All and all they enjoyed their beach walks. They also thought it was funny that they were in medical school and I was on a medical reenactment show.

We all went to the mall which was interesting. The people were out and about. At the Dollar Store we saw a whole new species of white trash and other genetic mutations. Then again, you get such mutations in dollar stores everywhere. We made an attempt to score with some hot guys and ended up talking to some marginal men at the scrub store. They told us how they dressed in scrubs telling women they were doctors in order to score. Maybe it was better that didn’t work out.

I also almost landed a sugar daddy this morning. I was walking on the beach in my bikini and bam. He was an old man and told me I looked great and asked how old I was. Maybe it was better that didn’t work out.

It seems I have grown so much as a person from last year to this year. Aside from everything I have been doing with myself I feel as if I have grown leaps and bounds and am happier than ever. Maybe I am growing in faith, but my heart feels lighter and I am enjoying my life. As I watch The Blind Side I know it’s gonna be alright. Love April