The Case For Santa-Con

It is Santa-Con today here in Manhattan. That means you see Santas of all walks of life. Everyone wants festive egg nog and holiday cheer. I even saw a Jewish Santa I believe. In that mix there are slutty girls who are masquerading as elves and then there is the sexy Mrs. Claus. I can deal with a black or gay Santa but a sexy Mrs. Claus, hells no. Mrs. Claus is supposed to be plump. She is supposed to be like my grandmother. A sexy Mrs. Claus is like a tolerant Glenn Beck. It just doesnt make sense in our world.

Santa-Con is one of those things that starts cute but very quickly becomes messy, very messy. I was walking to brunch with some friends and a girl dressed as an elf was crying bemoaning her man problems. She said, "I can't believe he did that." Did she mean she caught Santa kissing Mommy under the mistletoe last night?

Then on my way to my house I saw two men dressed as elves running into traffic. They were black out drunk and a car was speeding behind them. These two geniuses were trying to outrace the car and were strong candidates for a Darwin Award. I very quickly made my way to my house. There was no way I was watching these two men become elf meat. Then there were Santas getting into drunken fist fights because one Santa called another Santa's Mrs. Claus a whore. An ambulance came and both St. Nick's were booked on disorderly conduct. It looks like they will be getting coal for Christmas.

As I tried to avoid the chaos I thought of this time of year. Yes, all the decorations are so cheery but at the same time it is so damn depressing. There are lots of presents and no money to spend them it seems. Then there is family, while we all love them the holidays have the tendency to put miracle grow on everyone's character defects. In that mix, there is a lot of death this time of year. There is suicides because everything is so depressing. I understand that. When I hear "Silent Night" I want to deck someone sometimes and then slit my wrist afterwards. That is my least favorite Christmas Carol.

And then you start to focus on your life and what you don't have. Recently I got a promotion at work which is good but have been going through some strife on a project. Not so good. Can't go into it now but you know what I mean.

But then I look at the scope of the rest of the world. There is the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary, a reminder that mental illness is to be taken seriously and perhaps we use crazy as a punchline all too often or as a crude put down for what we cannot understand. It is a thought that we need laws prohibiting people with a history of violence from getting fire arms. It is a reminder that we have to learn about gun safety. It is a reminder that at the end of the day, no matter how much our children might give us headaches, they are a gift from God and we must be grateful that they come home from school and get up in the morning. It is a reminder that children are the most innocent of all creatures and measures no matter how big must be done to protect them.

A month ago Hurricane Sandy struck my city and there are people who will be without homes this Christmas. There are children who will be without toys. There are people who wonder what they are doing as a natural disaster wiped out everything they ever worked for. They will pray for a God that they dont understand and ask why?

So as I see the drunken Santas and their slutty elves and the sexy Mrs. Claus's crawl the bars I will laugh. As I see the kids all trying to dress like Ralphie from A Christmas Story partnered by their female companions dressed as the leg lamp I will give them a high five. If I see two Santa's in a fist fight drunk I will laugh. As I see some drunken male elves playing in traffic I will also laugh and pray to God that they don't get hurt.

But Santa-Con is a reminder that the holidays are about joy. It is about not just giving and receiving, but smiling. It is about shaking off the bad things of the past year and the stress of work as we celebrate the good. It is about laughing and smiling. It is about partying.

As for Santa-Con, I'll allow it.

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 @ 7pm
Bethel PArk Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
15102

Boobs and Pussy: McWha?!?!

I sometimes don't understand guys. Actually, make that never. They are fascinated to no end by boobs and pussy. Seriously. When they see tits they go ga ga and when there is a mention of getting laid and getting in the magic box they go even crazier swearing to be doctors, lawyers, and Native American tribal leaders if it does the trick.

Personally I have boobs and I don't see what the big deal is. They are a pain in the ass if you really want to know. They serve no purpose whatsoever. Most of the time I have to worry about what bra to wear with what and how to make sure my bra straps are not showing. Not to mention I have to wear a sports bra when I exercise to keep the useless things from flapping about and to keep from getting stretch marks. Not to mention that I am likely to get cancer there and have to have someone grope them every so often to make sure there are no lumps.

And guys are fascinated with these things. WOW!

Then the pussy is the one that really puzzles me. The thing is kind of weird. It bleeds for anywhere from three to five days once a month which already makes it a pain in the ass freeloader of female anatomy. Yes, it is a pain to deal with. What liners to use, and how to avoid getting toxic shock syndrome from tampons. Oh, and have you ever looked at a vagina in the mirror? When it is hairy it looks like a bizarre, scary, bearded creature that lives in a cave ready to shallow whoever enters. When it is shaved it looks like that bizarre, scary, cave creature on chemo. But men can't get enough of this. They scheme on ways to get it. They go out to clubs set on getting inside of it. I have one and personally I don't see what the big deal is.

Again, WOW!

And then there is the whole Wonder Woman thing. Guys think a Wonder Woman costume is hot along with any chick who could potentially kick their ass. They think that this is kinky. Of course this is coupled by the Catholic School girl outfit and the lollipop. And then there are the pornos with no plot that they say, "But she's hot." Yes, and I suppose this is why you spend money and watch these idiotic laced films in private. It is certainly not the dialogue. I really just don't get it. Oh and then there are the cheerleader outfits some guys like their girls to wear when they role play, along with the naughty nurse and french maid. Either too many pornos or men are just warped, confused, and twisted.

I don't think they are warped, confused, and twisted actually. I just don't get them. I will admit it. They oogle over a hot billboard and whateves, she's decent looking. But useless mammary glands and a freeloading part that has the street nickname of a feline, many women have them and find them a pain in the ass, and we can tell you that they are not special in the least.

Maybe this questioning is a nagging insecurity that deep down I know that if I were to ever get a man I would not have the first clue on how to make him happy. That there would always be someone better looking who could keep her mouth shut that could cook a better apple pie.

Maybe it is the fear of getting old.

Or maybe it is that men are such bizarre creatures that I don't understand them. They oogle over the useless organ and the freeloader of all female anatomy. I am just puzzled. I have one of each and can tell you that it is no big deal. It's not like you have to do anything to earn them.

Either way, if I ever get a husband or some sort of male life partner I will alleviate these worries by telling him the football game is on. He can oogle at the scantily cheerleaders all day long and exert his testosterone while watching a tackle or two. Both will keep him occupied as me and my girls and my gays have an afternoon of Golden Girls reruns. We can do our own thing, it will be spectacular.

Of course men are oblivious. He won't even realize I was gone. The secret to a happy marriage.

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 event
12=27-12 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
15102

Heisman Pics Parte 2

Johnny Manziel aka Johnny Football making history live as the first freshmen to win the award. I wasn't supposed to be taping.....shhhhh. 

The Heisman stage live with portraits of past winners. Do you recognize any of these football greats?

The poster welcoming the celebrants and the crew to NYC

My beautiful mother, Cupcake McMouse, trying on sunglasses at Louis Vuitton

My beautiful baby sister Skipper and I in front of the tree before the festivities. 

Crashing the Heisman's Part 1

George Rogers of the University of South Carolina, Heisman Winner 1980

Yes, this is the Heisman trophy

My beautiful sister Skipper and the Heisman trophy

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

What Are You Doing to Make Your Dreams Come True?

Right after I was on TLC I received a ton of fan mail, much of it from young people. Young people still write me quite a bit and traffic my blog. They tell me about their painting, writing, acting, singing, filmmaking and whatever creative endeavors they are taking up. Many, however, tell me that they are scared of following their passions because of failure and the struggle that goes with success that may never come. These are real fears. These were fears I had. These were fears my family had for me. But the truth is, if this is what you are meant to do you make it work.

When I was seventeen years old I auditioned for Carnegie Mellon University's Drama Program on a whim. But the woman auditioning me, a professor named Barbara Mackenzie-Wood said it best, "A lot of kids who audition for me want to get in here because they believe that this is the only path to becoming an actor. Whether or not they get in here, if a person wants to become an actor they will make it happen."

I didn't get in. Carnegie-Mellon is a stellar program though. I remember I wanted to be onstage and to write books. No one was going to stop me. While Barbara didn't pass me to the next level she was right. I was going to do this even if it was the last thing I ever did.

 Instead I moved to New York after getting into NYU. I found myself to Lee Strasberg and standup comedy with my little puppet children. Of course through hard work and paying my bills delivering singograms to support me and my little puppet brood things are happening. Some say I am crazy, but crazy people change the world. Thomas Edison slept in his lab most nights and hardly ever bathed. An eccentric who sat on a chicken's egg as a child to see if it would hatch because he was so curious, he made his life by trial and error. Because of him we have a thing called a lightbulb. I do believe you use it.

What never ceases to amaze me though is how many artists in New York City talk about the things they want to do but never do them. Once a musician friend of mine said it best, "They all have such big plans...." And then let out a laugh. Translated, everyone has big plans until they realize the big plans require this thing called hard work.

I call that bar stool dreaming. Comedians are guilty of it especially in my experience. They talk about all the new jokes they are writing and all the new material they are working on. Of course some will talk about the pilot that they are filming and pitching. Others will casually mention that they are writing a book. Many will claim they submitted their writing to SNL and will soon be on. Others will claim connection to some big agent who is getting them big gigs but it is all top secret.

Top secret as in it is such a secret that they don't even know because it doesn't exist. And over time I have seen the new jokes are the variations of the same tired ass routine they have been doing for years. The pilot that they are filming and pitching, usually that is some youtube conglomeration of whatever that only hatches one episode and is never seen again. As for the book, they are still writing it five years later, and they submitted their writings to SNL too but Lorne Michaels somehow forgot to call them back. Translated, they are dreamers, not doers. Many youngins on the scene will ally themselves with these people damned to dream forever.

The barstool dreamers are not as bad as the shouldabeens. Shouldabeens are worse than hasbeens. a Hasbeen can at least say they had a career and retire gracefully and laugh about the good old days, at least sometimes. A shouldabeen shouldabeen a big star but through a laundry list of excuses it never happened. Now they are bitter. They are telling you when you speak to them at the bar about how this person on television and that person writing for this show is a joke thief and that woman on that show gave this booker the service in a public restroom because she's not funny. I have two questions, one, why are they telling you this? Two, how is this information helping you or your career? Answer, it is not.

The bottom feeders whether they be nobody comedians, low level bookers, or whatever love this and get caught up into this crap. It is easy to get caught up into this crap. I know I did, especially in my earlier twenties. I wanted to know why this person was getting this when I was funnier, prettier, and not to mention was more reliable. I perhaps missed my calling as an opera singer because life became a continual chorus of, "Me, me, me."

I sort of bottomed on the concept of "Me, me, me" when I was twenty four. I was going through a rough patch. After filming a pilot that didnt get picked up and filming a national television appearance that while it made me a cult legend in some circles closed some doors, I found my phone not ringing. A survival job I relied on dried up so I was flat broke. Not to mention two friends, while not close but on the edge of my circles, one personal and the other professional, died. One overdosed and the other was murdered. I couldn't seem to catch a break. So I found myself not focusing on how I could better my career. How I could write a new joke. How I could get ahead. I found myself head in the shit gossiping.

That June my brother Wendell got married. In the airport I picked up a book by Bill Gates, Sr. called Showing Up For Life. Basically the daddy of the dot com billionaire writes about what it took to raise three successful children. In the book he talked about the importance for showing up for your family and showing up for yourself. Also, Older Gates spoke of using your talents to help others. Gates shared a poignant tale about an outbreak of cholera in the Himalayas where infants were dying. Doctors brought my the missionaries had to do something in a pinch. They created a formula to give these children hydration. Today it is called pedialyte. Basically what I got out of the book was stop being so selfish, self-centered, and feeding into the negativity. These things can only cause one failure and missed opportunities.

I began to change my life and as a result my luck changed. I started viewing comedy as less about my anger and pain and more about being a traveling joy saleswoman, about picking people up when they were down. Treating my job as a means to make the world a better place by helping others smile.

I produced my own one woman shows and invited bookers.

I got up wherever people would let me, and when the gossiping started I left.

I stopped being afraid of letting other people be funny. In the words of an old friend Daryl Wright, "I want you to be funny because I know I'm funny. So if you are funny that means I have to get even funnier."

I stopped limiting myself only to standup. I started making these very low tech puppet videos I laugh about now. Somehow, I got all these people to make appearances on them who were well respected comedians or underground figures in gay nightclub culture.

I got on national television with my children and of course was fired by the club that I put on TV-but the thing is-looking back that was for the best. I got to work as a talking head, make music, and write a book that is now being turned into a musical.

My point is, the path always works out. You must trust it.

One thing I learned was, when things started to happen in my life the first people to knife me in the back were the bottom feeder gossip buddies I once had. Any chance they got to trash me on the internet they did. Not far behind were the barstool dreamers who were nice enough to trash me on facebook. It hurt because we used to get snarky about positive people together. Now it doesn't hurt though. If anything I am grateful that I am no longer friends with those people and they no longer invade my world. I also realized the people we gossiped about-the ones making it-were getting ahead because they had the better attitudes. It wasn't always because they were stealing jokes or doing sexual favors. Those were ugly rumors started by losers who needed an excuse to breathe.

My mother and I were talking this past weekend and I admitted there are better performers, writers, comedians, and puppeteers in the city. But the reason I have things happening and they don't is that I actually do it when they simply talk about doing it. Laura Bell-Bundy remarked that as a performer she never let grass grow under her feet. It paid off. Her peers are waiting tables, she made it to Broadway.

The cool thing is, they have been replaced by people who aren't just dreamers but doers. Like Sean Lynch who doesn't just dream of a puppet video but puts it in an international film festival, and when he wants stage time he goes so far as to build the stage.

Derek Scott Graves who doesn't just dream of throwing the party of the century on a red carpet but throws the party himself, red carpet and all, even inviting Peace Man Sir Ivan.

Marcus Yi who writes music and performs original music.

Lest we not forget Libby Jay in Canada, and the list goes on.

A few weeks ago, before Sandy, I was at a party and two women were kvetching about how the acting industry only favors the cool kids and how they werent a cool kid. In the past I would have joined the pity party. Instead, I asked them what they were doing for their careers and how they were planning to change their circumstances. They looked at me as if I just told them the tax man were there. When I got that response I knew it was time to head to the bar and make some new friends.

So my response to anyone who writes me telling me about how they want to be an artist is, what are you doing to make it happen? Any comedian who complains about not getting what they want, what are you doing to improve your act? Any actor who complains of not working, what are you doing to change that? Any writer who wants to publish, what are you doing to get to the next step?

Bottom line, what are YOU doing to make your dreams come true?

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

Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
15102

Facebook Defriending, Twitter Defollowing and Other Random Shiteousness

Okay, here goes. Last night I was coming home and my boy David Otto sends me a friend request. Thought we were already friends. Then Libby Jay sends me a message that David and I somehow got disfriended and to friend him again. What the hell happened? We were friends. I never disfriend anyone. I let them do the dirty work. Screw that like a screw driver screws a freaking wall. For McSerious.

Sometimes facebook and twitter disfriends or defollows people at the McRandom. Okay, whatevski. It has happened before. We laugh about it. It's weird. It happened with me and my friend Joey a while back. We are friends again.

But what I don't understand is when people disfriend or defollow on purpose. One headliner I worked with in PA and I hit it off one weekend. We were friends and continued to connect on facebook until I posted some political things. For those that know me I tend to be a tad more liberal. Anyway, it was a joke about how the right wing pushes women to choose life and be on welfare but bitches about these women getting welfare. McMess logs on and in a six paragraph reply tells me that it isn't funny and that I should see a video of an abortion sometime. Well needless to say, I tried to smooth things over- we were friends, right? But he keeps on keeping on until one day he just disfriends me? WTF?!?!!? Dude, it is just facebook. You are taking this too personally.

Another time I posted some other joke about the right to choose and this chick who I knew but was never really all that nice to me decides to weigh in. She was a big old slut with a rich daddy that had a baby in high school. Well Mom took care of the kid so she could have a normal life. So she starts telling me about how I have no idea what it is like to choose and blah blah blah and tells me that she can no longer read my updates. Meanwhile her dad was going to kill baby daddy and I vouched for the douche. You would have thought she would have been a little more thankful. Well the Bristol Palin prodigy goes on twitter in a Republican laced, homophobic rant. That is, after she makes a video where it is a horror movie/softcore porn. Then she claims family values. More like the Carrie Prejean School of Family Values where being a "Christian" excuses any and all shiteous conduct. Maybe it's better we are not friends on facebook and were never friends in real life.

Then there was the popular cheerleader from my high school who was all rah rah when I did anything exciting with my career. Then one day I saw she just disfriended me. I was like, what did I do to her? We were friendly for the latter part of high school and then again in adulthood. My mom always called this chick a skank and claimed she slutted around. I told my mother she was crazy. My mom always claimed this girl was jealous of me. I told her she was crazy. Maybe my mom was right.

I dunno, I just think disfriending and defollowing is a lame high school girl trick. Fight it out like real men online.

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 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 w. library ave
bethel park, pa
15102