Showing posts with label losers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label losers. Show all posts

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Losers of the Week

Well the votes are in and these two have taken the cake. As in the assholes are stinking up the place by being themselves. What I mean is these two morons personify losers.

1. John Boehner. Says, his name sounds like Boner, I just wish Beavis and Butthead were here to rip this creep a new one. It's bad enough that he doesn't like women, gays or other people of color. But after a while you get used to that. But this is today's complaint with King John. There was supposed to be a 60 million dollar bill to help Sandy Victims in places like Breezy Point, The Rockaways, Staten Island and parts of Jersey. Well Bone-head was going to vote to pass it, but then he threw a hissy fit about not getting his way with the fiscal cliff and basically has done everything in his power to make sure those who need aid have to wait. Yes, the Sandy vics who have no homes and are living in trailers in this freezing cold begging FEMA for heat and dependent on space heaters have to wait. All because Johnny from Ohio didn't get his way. I would say he needs to go to hell, but that would be too nice a place. Rather, I hope they let him loose in Breezy Point where former fire fighters, many who may have voted on the conservative side in the past mind you, can beat the living breathing shit out of this waste of flesh. You stabbed New York in the back Mr. Boehner, and now I am crucifying you on my blog. I already didn't like you but now I hate you. Happy New Year, Dickhead.
King John eats beef and potatoes while the people of Queens, Staten Island, and New Jersey Starve. 





2. Fantasia Barrino. I shouldn't be surprised that this former American Idol winner, songstress, adultress, all around stupid ass, and breeding lump makes the list. But yes she does. Fantasia is not known for her brains, and while some rave about her vocal chops I want to deck her in the mouth everytime she sings one of her God awful songs because to me she is just awful. Well Ms. Syphilis did a Donna Summer and went on an anti-gay rant on twitter. Basically she said that people were doing all the things that they shouldn't do in the Bible (a book rewritten and re-edited by some very creative storytellers) and they were legalizing weed and gays were getting married. Wait a minute? You just alienated most of the people that voted for you on American Idol you dumb cow. They stood by you when you cried the blues of being a teen slut who popped out a little baby and helped you win on TV. So your career which was basically fading into obscurity is now over. Then she wants to talk about the Bible. Let's take Fantasia's inventory shall we? She had a child out of wedlock-a no no. Then she committed adultry-another no no and that one is actually listed in the Ten Commandments. Finally, she had a child with this man and he still is not technically divorced-another big no to the no to the NO NO! Later she took it down and said it was "taken out of context." Yeah, Rick Santorum tried the same thing. Anyway, luckily her career is starting to take a down turn and she is rapidly fading into obscurity. Now because the suicide attempt didn't take, lets hope she does a Ruben Studdard and just goes away and no one asks questions. She is certainly gaining the weight. But rest assured Fantasia is a cunt, after all, that seems to be the muscle she uses on her body most ;)

She who is without sin shall cast the first stone you ignorant hole

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

My Lil White Fur: Saying Goodbye to Settling

Today I made an impulse purchase. I never do this. My mom actually is more or less likely to buy a new dress to celebrate or mourn. I think this is why she likes my gay friends whenever they meet. Most often, they are wired the same way. The coat, which would have ordinarily been three hundred was only fifty. Going against my belief that lots of money should not be purchased on clothes I went to the ATM and made the buy. Call me shallow. Call me a bitch. Call me a beautiful woman. Maybe I am all of those things.

Around this time two years ago I lost Chacho, a friend who was a spirit kindred to mine. While he had been a street hustler who wore designer labels and could never stay sober and obeyed only the laws he liked, he was a straight shooter which made me respect him. One thing about Chacho was that my primary job as his friend was to make sure people didn't strangle him. The Chach and I were talking once about people who wore fake labels in public and walked around as if they were real. Chacho, who at the time was homeless despite his Gucci said, "Shame on them for settling for fake labels. I would never wear that."

Sure, maybe the boy didn't have a house, could never say no to drugs, and didn't like the law but he was going to leave a pretty corpse. We all have goals I suppose.

When Chacho died, I began to think of all the things he wanted for me, and how proud he had been of my career achievements when he was alive. At the time I was being worked to death as an open mic host. I had made the club a lot of money and put them on national television countless times. I expected a reward, I expected to be treated fairly. Instead, they fired me from my own mic and rehired me at the sister club. In order to preserve an abusive relationship, but one that had to potential for growth, I made my demands as long as I was going to stay. None of them were filled. I was at the end of my rope. All I did was work, earning these people money, and all they did was treat me like a second class citizen.

Afterwards, I was talking to my boss. He said to me, "You should stay and host. You are good at it and that is your job in the club."

"I put them on national television ten times and am more talented than the male headliners you bring in." I pointed out. "And you give me ten check spots and I have ripped the room up each time. Who do I have to blow to get ahead? I think that's how this shithole is run."

My then boss, who knew I was at the end of my rope said, "Sometimes, in this business we aim for the stars but we don't get them. Most people don't get the stars April, and you probably won't. Sometimes-most of the time-you have to settle. You just need to settle and use the mic as your venue."

My jaw dropped. I had just received more television time than any of the regulars in that hell pit ever would. I could also see and hear the spirit of my dead friend Chacho, the friend who had been incensed that he could not join me at Fashion Week because his black market plastic surgery had landed him with a blood clot. The friend who told me to stop dressing like I was broke and poor. The friend who wanted to be someone and tried his damnest by dressing in clothes he couldn't afford and getting plastic surgery from people who were shady. The friend who would demand I tell his family members and strangers about my television time. The friend who couldn't stop using drugs. The friend I had the falling out with and didn't get to say, "I love you but not what you are doing" before he died. The friend who was on the other side with me, watching over me, and now telling me to reach for the stars he never got, to walk the runway he could only dream of. If I was going to honor his memory it would be not to settle.

That evening when I got home I resigned from my post via email. I did so like a lady. I didnt tell the club owner to get fucked like I wanted to. This was a new era of my life. For so long I had settled with these slave drivers. I had done countless late night spots hoping to be promoted because of the good work I did. I had earned them lots of money. Got them lots of publicity. They were a second tier venue anyway, a place where dreams went to settle. Looking back, it felt like they were screwing me, but it was God getting me out of there and taking me somewhere better. It was my friend Chacho with me, letting me know that I was meant to do great things. It was the dreams we shared as we checked out hot guys at the local diner coming true. I was no longer crawling helplessly but walking upright.

Since that time I have not settled and have been damned if I do. Sometimes it has made me look like a bitch. But I am a career woman. Not settling and driving harder than ever has gotten me to places I never dreamed I would go. It has made me dress for success, strive for success, and see things most never dream of seeing.

I have also found out who my friends were and werent in this molting process. On one occasion I was out with an old friend who knew me in my early days of struggle and uncertainty. We were talking about the things that happened with me and the club that I had a falling out with. My friend, who I thought would side with me said, "You know, you have a bit of an ego sometimes. I see your facebook posts and they are a tad arrogant. When you post you aren't just April Brucker: Superstar Wannabe. You are April Brucker sister, daughter, cousin, and friend."

My mouth dropped open. Was this dude for real? Half of those posts were jokes. WOW! He knew me in real time well enough to know that I am hardly arrogant. My true friends know I am hardly arrogant. While I jokingly brag they jokingly bring me down to Earth and we enjoy a laugh. And then it hit me. This particular person had been friends with the person who wandered uncertainly through the desert. This particular person had been friends with the woman who settled. And everytime we hung out up to this point he had found subtle ways to tear me down. I had changed for the better, embracing life and following the path. He had stayed the same, settling at the bottom like all things that settle.

As I walk my path to greatness, sometimes I can be what is perceived to be a bitch. Some of it is because I am a hardworking woman who is determined, and I do not have the shield known as an agent or MANager. Like Charlie Chaplin, I am my own writer, director, performer, and producer. Does it make me tired? Sometimes, but if I want something done right I do it myself. Not everyone likes me. Read my Gawker article. I have a list of enemies miles long. But here is the thing, when I do a show I am not there to be liked by my fellow performers. When I do a play I am not there to be adored by my fellow actors. When I write I do not put the piece out there to be loved by other writers. I am a servant to the people. I will yell and scream until I am front and center and everything is done right on all ends. I will get paid well, and my audience will be happy. This is about them, not my ego. So if I am a bitch I am a bitch. I will wear the name tag in case people ask. It's on my birth certificate. I will proudly legally change my name if that is what I am viewed as.

Some say bitch. I say a business woman and performer who does not settle.

There is one club in Queens where they will never have me because I screamed at a booker who was trying to rip me off, and of course where the head of new talent regularly bad mouths me on gossip sites. There is another club on the East Side that will not have me because the owner and I got into it online because he casually uses the c word slang for women's private parts in casual conversation to refer to the opposite gender. There is a set of clubs where I am not welcome because of the falling out we had after I put them on television, never again. Those doors are closed like coffins. Looking back at it, it is better they did close. Those aren't the homes of top performers and superstars, those are the homes of people who settle. When I have been at those places in the past I have felt like a fish out of water. I was. I don't celebrate bottom feeding. Therefore, they were never going to be kind to me and those places never my constant home.

Then there are the people who tell me, when I get closer to being a superstar, "Be the best you that you can be." Or even worse, "Be happy." That is loser talk and I will tell you why. When someone tells you to be the best you that you can be in relation to success, these are people allergic to achievement and the thought of doing well scares them. They see you doing well, and they don't understand it. They don't want to see you do well. Rather, they want to see you settling with them in Loser Land. Same with the "be happy." They are saying yes to struggle and no to ambition and goal realization. A goal driven individual, especially a woman, scares people.

It's when they turn around and tell you, "You set the bar too high. That is why you are disappointed." No, I didn't set the bar too high. You set the bar too low and dropped the ball on yourself. Just because you dropped the ball on yourself doesn't mean that I have to do the same.

Do I regret my diva like conduct? Only when I get a sore throat. Do I regret not having MANgement? Only when babysitting those around me gets tiresome, but why put it into the hands of some moron who only cares about payment and not product? Do I regret quitting my job at the club that screwed me over? No, no, and no. That disappointment and rejection made me realize that I had settled in their system to be less than my best. When I left I grew a pair of colorful wings and flew for the sky.

I know I sound like a braggart as I talk about all the awesome things I do. But believe you me, if you don't settle life has good things in store for you. There was one story a friend who works with gay youth once told me. This kid was going to the twelve step meetings and living in a car and said, "Maybe God wants me in the car by the river where I live and to have no money." My friend said, "No, God wants you to get your ass out of that car, get some money, and have nice things." I think my friend was right. Whatever is up there wants me to be successful.

So I sit here with my little white fur. Some call me a bitch. Others a diva. I have my share of enemies because I don't settle. So this winter I will risk attack by red spray paint. But I will sashay, making the world my runway. With me will be the spirit of my friend Chacho. With me we will reach for the stars. We will be fashionable. We will do great things. We will not settle.

So what lipstick goes best with an impulse buy?

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com


Come to my signing
12-27-12 @ 7
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
15102


Thursday, September 20, 2012

Young Love

I remember being nineteen and being all alone in NYC. The girls were all either goody goody or just slutty. The slutty girls were all sort of ugly actually. This one chick who was pretty fat always seemed to be getting action. As I sat alone, stood up on a Friday night and saw this thing out on the town I wondered, "How does she do it?" She didnt even have a good personality. She was stuck up, unfunny, and worst of all just nauseating. Then I saw the guys she was with and said, "Oh." The funny part is, some of them came out sophomore year. Maybe she was what turned them out. Or worse yet, they were like, "Hi Mom, hi Dad, I actually like chicks. The chicks I like just happen to look like guys."

One of my most memorable mishaps was when April Brucker who had no experience with men met a total stoner at a frosh talent night. He liked my puppets, I thought he was hot. He invited me to his place to watch TV. When I got to his house he turned on the television. For the record, I thought when he invited me to watch television we were actually watching television. Needless to say he had other plans. He kissed me and things began to get hot and heavy. Things had never really gotten hot and heavy in my young life and I began to panic. Finally I just told him I had to go and ran out of the room. My then friends thought it was hysterical because watch tv was code for hook up. I saw the dude later in the dining hall and apologized for my lack of experience. We ended up being friends actually and ended up watching television just to watch television. He has a good job and married someone else. If we would see each other on the street we would be friends and actually laugh about the whole thing.

There is an old saying in Latin that roughly translates, "In wine there is truth." Or worse yet, sometimes when you drink wine you love everybody. During the end of my first semester freshmen year I met this guy filming a student film. We hit it off, and he told me he would take me out to dinner and bring me flowers. I was stoked. He gave me his number. We chatted once or twice on the phone and it looked like I was going to finally have what I wanted,a boyfriend. He liked the puppets and everything. Well one night a friend of mine was having a party to celebrate end of the first semester. I got pretty wasted. So what did I do? I got out my phone and started calling everyone. I apparently told this guy I loved him and wanted to be with him forever. Needless to say, he avoided me every time he saw me after that. I know this all went down because his best friend told me when he saw me at the student center. Word to the wise, that is not the way to win a man's heart. We have seen each other since then and have been friendly, but he still puts a little pep in his step after our encounters. These days he is an unemployed actor and wannabe comic. Maybe it's better the love affair didn't work out.

Of course there was also the misadventure where I met a greasy guitar player at a talent show in Union Square. He went to school of recorded music and his parents were lawyers. Nonetheless, he believed he was Bruce Springsteen. Obsessed with Layne Staley, he played all the music when I hung out in his house. During that time a friend of mine told me that to pick up guys you had to smoke. I was trying it, but it was ruining my cardio. During this exchange, Romeo told me that, "If you fuck me, you can say you fucked me before I became a rockstar." I felt intimidated because I lacked experience. However, that became apparent in a moment or two. Romeo took my number and called me again, but I didnt feel like entertaining his ego. While he had rockstar ambitions, he didn't have the work ethic and after graduation changed paths to become a life coach for troubled children. I of course, well you know my puppet children and I have been making history. Someday he'll tell the story of how April Brucker was in his room, he had a chance to be a man, but screwed it up by being himself. Best punchline ever.

The following year I found myself seeing a much older man. While the whole thing was fun, I found myself getting much too attached as he patted me on the head and told me to wander the other way. We were on again, off again, and it was oh so complicated in my twenty year old brain. His dad was loaded, he had a great apartment, and he was promising me a trip to see the Roosevelt House on LI knowing I was a history buff. But when we got to that place of what is this he always backed off because of my age. I wasn't having it though. One evening, when I had too much of his high class Scotch I told him how I felt and how he had hurt me ever so badly. Then I told him I loved him, wanted to be with him, and threw up all over him. The next day I had a headache and felt like a fool. But we also talked and I found out more than anything in the world I had a friend. Since then we have just been friends, nothing less and nothing more. He is now married to someone else and has a kid. We have worked together several times and the whole experience is buried in the ruins as ancient history never to be spoken about again. But when I do speak about it I can't stop laughing. God was I stupid in those days.

Or then there was my first love bomber, an older comic who was totally all over me and had a very obvious drinking problem. We ended up hanging out and then he totally disappeared on me. The bad boy chain smoker then proceeded to hit on another woman right in front of me the next time he saw me!!!!! I thought this was a reflection of myself. But it was another big lesson. Men are jerks. It was tough to swallow, especially since the girl was so incredibly sleazy. But months later he tried to make a comeback. However when he saw me with another guy he backed off and I could hear him telling his friends some twisted tale of how I broke his heart. Meanwhile there was some serious editing on his part. Mr. Fabulous would go on to drink his way out of a promising comedy career and now is selling used cars in his home state.

My point of all this is, no one is worth going crazy over, man or woman. I found myself walking down memory lane because a young girl I know is flipping out over her boss who is an underemployed musician, recent divorcee who owes his ex and the IRS money, a second rate DJ, balding with a heart problem and the list goes on. You flip out now, but don't flip out too much. Leave room for the laughter later on. Not only will you realize that men think that they are God's gift and seriously aren't worth it, but the encounters provide good stories later.

No one, male or female, is worth getting too bent out of shape over.

LOve, April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

www.buybooksontheweb.com

877-buy-book

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Losers and Other Strangers

My mom’s sister and my Godmother Aunt Flo would often come and visit when I was a kid. She would usually call unannounced or leave a message that was long and whiny in nature. My mom would trip running to get the phone while my dad would yell, “Ignore it.”
It’s not that my dad was cold natured. Not at all. Usually my Aunt Flo was either misinvesting money or in trouble with the IRS and needed legal advice. My dad was all about helping family, just not being bothered when he wanted to watch television. When she wasn’t doing that it was to call my mom and to give her the latest on her relationship with Ralph. Yes, Ralph my aunt’s boyfriend. According to my Aunt Flo Ralph needed her love because he had allergy problems. One thing Ralph seemed to be allergic to was work. Because he couldn’t keep a job and finally he insisted he had some sort of illness and therefore got disability checks. This illness, rare in nature, would have made it hard for him to lift and exercise. However, Ralph always made time to go to the gym, do a few bench presses, and check out the babes while keeping his meal ticket.
If Ralph were good looking that would be one thing. This was not the case at all though. Instead he had a bad stray on seventies than that only porn stars like John Holmes could have rocked. According to my Aunt Flo, Ralph was not a porn star. As a matter of fact he was impotent. I overheard this once when my Aunt Flo came over with her coffee unannounced and pulled my mother in the living room.  As if that weren’t bad enough he was bald. But Ralph wasn’t losing his hair gracefully. Instead he ordered a really bad wig online and would stick it on his head. Obviously fake, there was no way a man’s hair could never blow with the wind and there was no way someone could always maintain a perfect pompadour hair do like he did. Oh and it does get worse. To finish this moteif, he wore horribly colored open shirts and tight pants that went out with the seventies. If you want to know why disco died you could just take a look at this man and know that he killed it. Of course to make more of an effect he glued on chest chair, probably stolen from a local chipmunk who had met with the wheels of an automobile on the side of the road, and added gold chains.
Not to mention he had a sick sense of humor too. During a family Halloween party once he came in dressed as a hunter. With a gun strapped to his back he threw a cardboard cut out of a dead deer on the ground. To finish off this sick costume piece with no redeeming quality, he wrote the word “Bambi” on it and even gave it holes that looked like bullet holes and used corn syrup to make fake blood. My mom, who was standing next to me at the time mumbled, “If only he would use that effort and find a job. But then again, why would Ralph work when he has my sister?”
As my mom ran upstairs to take the urgent call from Aunt Flo my dad stopped the movie. It was our usual Friday night shoot ‘em up. My brother Wendell seemed annoyed that the film was stopped for this distress call from our aunt. “Just when Van Damme was about to give them the karate chop.” My brother lamented.
“Don’t worry. It will be back on once your mother finishes with Aunt Flo.” My dad assured us. “What ever her latest is with Ralph The Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work is.” Yes, that was the nickname my parents had given Ralph. While my dad had said it one day after Aunt Flo stopped over, my mom was the one who made it stick.
“Why does Aunt Flo date such idiots? She seems like such a nice lady?” I asked propping myself up. It was just a few weeks shy of Thanksgiving and already getting cold out. My sister Skipper was next to the fire already asleep. Sweet on the outside, that child was probably dreaming about something disturbing. Once in the middle of the night she couldn’t sleep so she simply cleaned her room. While my mother was pleased to find that unlike her two other children her youngest kept a spotless domicile, it always left the rest of us uneasy. Little Skipper was probably going to be the next dictator so we all knew that we had better behave.
“Who knows. She was seeing Chuck Davis. Chuck would have given her the moon. Now she is seeing this goof.” My dad said. He had little or no patience for my aunt’s horrid choice in men. We had all liked Chuck Davis. Chuck had been my aunt’s previous boyfriend of five years. Sweet and sort of boring, he loved my aunt and would have taken a bullet for her. When she left Chuck for Ralph, she said the magic with her and Chuck wasn’t there.
I remember my mother, who married my dad after knowing him less than a year asked, “And it took you five years to figure that out!”
“He is such a loser.” Wendell said. “And Mom says she always sees him out and about with his glue on chest hair.”
“Ewww. That stuff is just gross. Don’t ever mention that again. He’s a disco reject.” I declared. My dad upon hearing this laughed.
“Worse than a disco reject. I lived through the time and trust me, I have seen some bad glue on chest hair kids but he tops it.” My dad assured us. However he decided to take time for his usual daddy lesson. “This is why kids you have to be careful who you date. Date people who have a job, career, and a future and are willing to work hard. If you waste time on the wrong person you could waste your whole life, especially if you know they are the wrong person and all you are left with is baggage.”
Wendell and I looked at each other as my dad said, “See I knew your mom was the right one as soon as I saw her. I gave up all my other girlfriends. However, your mom still hasn’t given up her other boyfriends.” My dad said as he heard my mom coming down the stairs.
“Don’t even start.” My mom said as she hit my dad square with the pillow.
“What was Flo squawking about?” My dad asked.
“Oh apparently Ralph’s stint as a flabotomist in Florida didn’t work out. Some Cuban guys jumped him.” Yes my mom was referring to one of Ralph’s many attempts to make money. He told my aunt some story about training to be a flobotomist and going to Florida to work and they would have a distance relationship. We all knew it wouldn’t last. As a matter of fact when my dad and Wendell heard they had a running bet. My dad bet a month, Wendell bet three weeks. The idiot had lasted two.
“Dad, I won the bet. You owe me one night without taking out the trash.” Wendell said.
“No, I am your dad. You will take out the trash. You won the bet and that’s enough.” My dad replied tiredly.
“Then April gets to take out the trash for me.” Wendell said.
“Done.” My dad replied.
“Hey!” I screamed. I hadnt been a part of this death pool.
“It’s only fair. You talked back to me and missed a homework assignment at school. And not to mention you fought with your brother yesterday.” My mom pointed out. Angrily I shirked and flicked my brother off.
“What was that?” My dad asked curiously eyeballing my hand gesture.
“Nothing.” I mumbled.
“ Well Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work probably got his ass beat because he was trying to get another girl in another port and someone’s brother saw what a loser he was.” My dad guessed as he restarted the movie. Wow, for someone so smart and intelligent my aunt sure knew how to pick them. She was in my Aunt Violet’s dental school class. The lady had a brain, she could crack a book, but why did she pick her men out of the gutter?
The worst part was, this had been one of the many jobs Ralph couldn’t keep. Of course there was the job selling Amway and his other work from home schemes that all fell through because they were too much work. In the end it was all the same, my aunt ended up as his meal ticket while he had a piece of meat on the side.

Saturday morning started with me rising early for a dance class with my sister. Of course before that I had to take out Wendell’s garbage. I did so grudgingly and full of resentment. Just then my Aunt Flo’s car pulled into the driveway. Swurving down the street I heard both a cat scream and some poor woodland animal run for it’s life. Then she made a turn into our driveway that not even Dale Ernhardt could have pulled off. Shutting her car door, she got out and saw me. Running down the driveway she asked in a hurried beath, “April, is your mother home?”
“Yes.” I said.
A minute later we were both at the door. My mom, seeing us opened it. “Hi Flo. Can I get you some coffee?” She asked my aunt. Her red hair was in a tussle and she wore a purple ski jacket.
“I was in the neighborhood and decided to say hi. Ralph is coming back from Miami and I just feel so bad about what happened.” My Aunt Flo said as she let herself in. My dad upon seeing her gave her the hello and quickly made an exit. This was girl talk. He didn’t want to get involved. Being a guy and not liking Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work my dad wouldn’t have given his two cents but rather broken the bank. Plus he liked my Aunt Flo as a person. She was thoughtful and never forgot anyone, she just had terrible taste in men.
I went upstairs and my dad asked, “When did your Aunt Flo pull in the driveway?”
“A few minutes ago as I was forced to take out the trash for Wendell.” I told my dad.
My dad groaned. “No doubt to talk about Ralph the Jerk Allergic to Work.” I shook my head. It was true.
“April, do me a favor. Let me know when they are gone. I just can’t know what is going on. And the paper is yours if you want it.” My dad informed me passing me the Post Gazette. One thing my folks were big on was us reading. And it had been hard for them that I had trouble with it at first. However, once I caught up I read all the time. To encourage this my dad would give me the paper every day when he was done with it.
After I gave my dad a kiss my brother Wendell emerged from his room. For Christmas my parents had given him his own TV to play video games on because his video games kept wrecking the VCR. At least that’s what my dad said. “Is Aunt Flo downstairs?” Wendell asked me.
I shook my head as in yes. “What are they saying?” Wendell asked. First I had to take out the trash and now I had to do his dirty work. At times like this I liked my brother.
“She is saying it was terrible that Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work wants to come back and she feels terribly about what happened.” I told him.
Behind us we heard footsteps. Standing there was Skipper. She was rubbing the sleepy sand out of her eyes. It was rare that this night owl got up without any prodding. “What’s going on? I heard whispering.” Skipper said.
“Two words, Aunt Flo?” I told her.
“Where?” Skipper asked.
“Downstairs.” I replied.
“Speaking of which, April could you get me a glass of water?” Skipper asked.
“You have two legs. Go get it.” I said.
“Get it for me or I’ll tell mom you hit me.” Skipper said as an evil smile came over her face. If Skipper told my mother that, no questions would be asked. I myself would have a meeting with her notorious wooden spoon and then be forced to do Skipper’s chores for the rest of the day. Either way, no questions would be asked. My mother would always believe Skipper. In my mother’s eyes Skipper was angelic when in reality Wendell and I knew she was pure evil.
“I didn’t hit you.” I told her surprised that this Satanic creature in a satin pajama dress dreamed up such an ugly lie in order to get her way. Siblings were indeed the devil’s creation. Skipper was proof.
“Wendell will say you did so you have to take out the trash again.” Skipper promised. Now she was angling Wendell to get on her side and that was perfect. After all, a week ago Wendell had been on my dad’s bad side because he put a video game in a movie case. This would have gone unnoticed except my dad was with my mom returning the movies and they were fined extra.
Wendell shook his head. “Plus the glass of water will be a way for you to spy. And you will fool everyone. No one will suspect you because you are stupid.” Wendell mentioned. While Skipper was evil Wendell was just plain obnoxious and rude. I didn’t know what was worse. Obnoxious and rude was deserving of a smack, but since Skipper was there she would concoct some story, especially since she was in a blackmailing sort of mood.
I extended my arm and middle finger as I made my way down the stairs. “Thank you sweet sister.” Skipper called. Evil little gnome. Wait until she got old enough. Oh boy I was going to set her straight. Especially when I told her that she was an accident. Gosh was that child disturbed.
As I made my way to the kitchen I heard mom and Aunt Flo talking. “You see, he wants to move in with me.” My Aunt Flo explained to my mom. My mother looked as if she had been hit by a truck upon hearing this news.
“Flo, he doesn’t want to work and will be watching TV all day.” My mom said.
“But you see, no one understands him. I understand him. With a little love he can turn his life around.” My Aunt Flo said trying to reason with my mom. I looked at my mom and she seemed to be getting a headache.
“Flo, you have given him all the love in the world and he still doesn’t want to get his act together.” My mom pointed out.
“But you see, we are getting married.” My Aunt Flo replied. “He even brought me a ring.” At that moment my aunt showed my mom her diamond. It looked like a big one. Lord only knows how he swung that one being unemployed and all.
Then my mom delivered the punch of the century, “That’s great Flo. Where did he steal it from?”
I quickly got Skipper’s glass of water and ran upstairs. Forgetting my anger for my pint sized adversary, I had news to report. As I got to the top of the stairs I said, “News on the home front.”
“What? Give us the dirty skinny.” Skipper asked as if she were a British General from the trenches greeting a spy who had been behind German lines.
“Aunt Flo and Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work are getting married.” I said.
“Did he at least get her a ring?” Wendell asked alarmed at this news.
“Yes and mom wants to know where he stole it from.” I said
“He probably did steal it. Dead beat.” Wendell said as he made the exit to go back to the video games. Now I was left with Skipper.
“We have a dance lesson in a half hour.” I told the elf. “So get some breakfast or I will persuade mom to leave you home. You blackmailed me once today and it’s not going to happen again.” I said making a motion like I was going to pound the plotter. While Skipper was cunning, she cowered at threats of actual physical violence. I had size and speed and would use it. With that Skipper was off to get ready. Just then I heard my aunt leave and my mom breathed a sigh of relief. We would be getting the details later. I had a feeling.

On the drive to dance class my mom was silent. Already an aggressive driver, she was more angry behind the wheel than ever. “Mom, you just ran both a stop sign and a red light.” Skipper pointed out. Our mom had just gotten a ticket three weeks before. The worst thing was, she was taking my brother to karate and forgot her license. Needless to say it was an experience.
“Just shut up.” She snapped at Skipper. While Skipper could be annoying sometimes my mom usually more or less spared the verbal rod with Skipper because she was the baby. And if you yelled at Skipper her first reaction was usually to cry.
And that’s what Skipper did. She started to cry.  Part of me couldn’t help but laugh because in a way this was kharma for her blackmailing scheme earlier this morning. When we pulled into the parking lot Skipper had tears running down her face. My mom, ashamed at how she lost her temper with her youngest and most perfect, pulled the car in the lot. “I’m sorry sweetie.” She said to Skipper giving her a big hug. “Your mother has just had a long morning.”
After a second Skipper asked, “Is Aunt Flo really going to marrying Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work?”
That’s when my mom hit her hands against the steering wheel. “Skipper, just don’t remind your mother, okay.” She told my sister giving her another hug. Then she looked at me and said, “Promise your mother you won’t be like Aunt Flo who dates only losers that won’t work. Doing that would upset your mother and make her cry. Don’t upset your mother and make her cry. It’s a sin against God.” My mother said. Most of the time my mom was really cool but when she added the sin against God thing in put another level to things that made it all that more damning and severe.
We both promised my mom that much as we walked downstairs. Our dance teacher Miss Linette was there ready to see us practice our routine. When our mom left we were there, in the dance studio, still with the residue of the early morning drama on us. A tall former rockette with brown hair that was short and cropped, Ms. Linette asked, “What was with your mom?”
“Should you tell her or should I Skipper?” I asked my baby sister, still shaken from my mom’s yelling at her.
“You.” Skipper told her. That’s when I proceeded to describe to Miss Linette the drama of the morning from start to finish. To my surprise, Miss Linette was not appalled at all. As a matter of fact she laughed.
“Well girls. I have a sister just like your Aunt Flo. Except she goes farther by marrying and having kids with the guy.” Miss Linette explained. “Her husband just went to jail.” While Aunt Flo’s man didn’t serve time yet, there was always that key word, yet.
Skipper and I looked at each other. “But enough of that. Let’s tumble.” Miss Linette directed. She put on our dance music and off we went bending, twisting and flying through the air, getting ready for the recital. Skipper seemed to forget she was yelled at and I seemed to forget I invited Aunt Flo in. While I could have lied and said we weren’t home it wouldn’t have worked. But damnit I should have tried.

When our lesson was over we waited outside for my mom to pick us up. We would have stayed indoors but the Caswell sisters were coming in after us for their duet and those two divas required all the time and space in the world. “Miss Linette’s sister’s husband went to jail. Do you think Ralph The Jerk Allergic to Work will break the law?” Skipper quiered.
“Nah.” I said. “That would require being ambitious. He sleeps till noon every day. Being a criminal is usually a hard job.” I told my sister.
My sister shook her head. “Why does Aunt Flo date such losers?” My sister asked me. Skipper tugged my shirt trying to keep my attention because for a brief second my eyes had wandered off. We loved my aunt. She broke her neck to make every occasion special and always came armed and dangerous with the camera. Maybe it was annoying that she snapped a billion photos but there was always something of a record of the occasion.
“It’s a mystery of the universe. But promise me Skipper, you will, someday when Prince Charming comes, marry a guy who has a job.” I said getting stern with the youngster.
“Only if you’ll marry a guy with a job.” Skipper replied.
“Pinky swear.” I said.
“Pinky swear.” Skipper replied. That’s when we did our pinky swear, elbow kiss. It was sister code for promise and contract signed, sealed and delivered.

When our mom picked us up she was in a slightly better state of mind. Maybe it was the much needed second cup of coffee. Or maybe it was a trip to the supermarket. Who knows. She chirped away asking how practice was and then said, “Listen girls, if your Aunt Flo calls tell her I’m not home.”
We shook our heads. “What if you are home? That would be lying.” Skipper informed her.
“Do you want to hear anymore about Ralph the Jerk Allergic to Work?” I asked Skipper. “And the wedding that they are probably mooching off of people for.”
Skipper shook her head. “Well your dad and I don’t either.” My mom told us as we pulled into the driveway.

My mom was so exhausted from dealing with my aunt she decided we were eating in front of the TV. Plus the morning had exasperated her so much it was leftover time. This was actually a good deal all around. My dad was catching up on his Big Battles and meatloaf always tasted better on the second day. However, my mom fell asleep instantly. Apparently, after my Aunt Flo announced her engagement the phone was ringing off the hook. My mom’s sister Marie called and was panicked along with her brothers Mark and Preston. Not to mention my grandfather, who had almost died of a blood clot in an accident less than a year before, was livid. My mom couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t blame her.
Just as my mom was in the middle of a sleep the phone rang. “Go see who it is.” My dad said tired from the long work week and morning drama. He did have a long week. As a matter of fact he had gone into the office that day. My dad was the opposite of Ralph The Jerk Allergic to Work in just about every way. Aside from the fact that he was loyal to my mom, didn’t wear a toupee or glue on chest hair, and would never dream of having a spray on tan, my dad had a job. As a matter of fact having his own law firm he worked seven days a week and even took calls on vacation. The son of a machinist in a mill my dad had been working since he was seven years old having his own paper route. My dad definitely didn’t do well with lazy.
Wendell being the closest to the door got up and looked. “Aunt Flo.” He said.
“Don’t pick up.” My dad said. “We cant take it anymore.”
Just then the message machine started. My Aunt Flo was basically yelling at my mom for judging her and Ralph the Jerk Who is Allergic to Work. She finally ended her message with the immortal words, “But nobody understands him.”
My dad put Big Battles on pause for a second and decided it was time for his Daddy Lesson. We were all ears and he said, “Children, I have been around a lot longer than you. I just want you to know, if you ever hear anyone say, ‘no one understands me’ it means that they are an asshole and everybody knows it.”
The room was silent for a moment. Wendell, Skipper and I all locked eyes in agreement. This was a true assumption about Ralph The Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work. That’s when my dad put Big Battles back on and the rest of us watched it and fell asleep. As I heard the November rain pound on the window I knew it was a perfect way to end such a craptacular day.
Six weeks later my Aunt Flo found out that Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work had another fiancĂ© two towns over with two kids. Much like my Aunt Flo, she had been bank rolling him. Being in the thick of the relationship, my Aunt Flo still believed she could change him. When he broke it off with her because the other woman was willing to give him more financial support, my Aunt Flo gave him back the ring. Of course my mother pushed her to pawn it. However, when the other woman found out about my Aunt Flo she dumped Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work like a hot potato out of the oven.
Ralph the Jerk Who’s Allergic to Work was an asshole. We all knew it. However it seemed my Aunt Flo was the last to get the memo.
Years later I would learn that there was a word to describe a kindly woman like my aunt who dated men beneath her in hopes of saving them, codependent.