Back in June, I was hired to deliver a singing pink gorilla telegram to a woman who worked in a doctor’s office. My boss Bruce explained that the client was a Marine named Brent MacAdam who was stationed overseas in Japan. The assignment was a Happy Belated Birthday. From the appearance of it, either they started the relationship during one of his furloughs and he was shipped off, or they hung out a few times and he was stuck on her. I had no clue whatsoever. After accepting the job, Bruce called me and told me the client requested I wear a WWE Championship Belt.
Sigh….why should I have been surprise? He was a Marine. One thing about Marines is that they are the first in and the last out. Trained to take any amount of crap and eager for armed combat, they are ready to go Rambo and live off the land if need be. Jarheads never give up their identity even when discharged. Once a Marine, always a Marine, and they will tell you this within seconds of meeting them even if it has been years since they served. I had seen a special once about Sergeant Eddie Wright, a Marine who had both his arms blown off in combat. Despite his disability and reliance on hook hands, Eddie Wright still taught self-defense to Marines and his men respected him. While it was brave, it was also slightly insane. After losing both hands I would be enjoying my disability. That being said, why would I expect normal behavior from anyone who calls themselves a Marine ever!?!
At the same time, some of my greatest fans have been Marines. As a matter of fact, two who served in Iraq have followed my career and used to show up at my shows to surprise me. Dave Rosner, who is still an active Lieutenant Colonel in the Marines, is one of my oldest friends in comedy. As a matter of fact, he encouraged me not to let my book sit in my drawer but to publish it. What I love about Marines is their willingness to be courageous, dedicated, and ability to not only honor their Marine code but laugh at themselves.
In addition to the WWE Championship Belt, Brent had another request. He wanted the pink gorilla gram to sing “Love of a Woman” by Travis Tritt. As I read over the list of commands this love sick soldier was giving me, I was amazed, awe struck, and felt like yes, this was my life. I could not make this up one bit. I laughed at the surreality of the situation, and then realized there was some work to be done.
That day I purchased a WWE Championship Belt, and spent the evening memorizing “Love of a Woman” by Travis Tritt. To say the song wasn’t so syrupy sweet that it gave me a mouth full of root canals would have been the understatement of the year. To say it wasn’t so cheesy that it would have made a plate of nachos look modest would have been a lie. These lyrics were much too much. The woman Travis Tritt sang about stuck by her man even when he was a jack ass. Not to mention this same woman viewed her man as her hero. YUCK! I wanted to tell Mr. Tritt who clearly wrote this from a sexist standpoint that most of the time, when my man was a jerkoff I pretty much let him know he was on his own. And oh, I also knew my dude was human, would disappoint me, and would probably be the one to screw the relationship up. Then there were times I would just burst out laughing because the song was just too funny for me as a feminist. I Googled Travis Tritt. The man is a die hard Republican. If he met my friends and I he would burn us as witches. In my mind I nicknamed him Travis Twit.
The next day I got to Brooklyn to deliver to Juliet, the lady love in question. I knew this was either going to be a big hit or to go over like a fat rat infected with rabies. Putting on my pink gorilla costume and WWE Championship Belt, I was armed and dangerous with the Travis Tritt lyrics. Sure, they were sexist and no such woman existed unless she had half a brain. However, I listened to them with a less cynical heart. Despite singing about a fictional woman that doesn’t exist, Travis Tritt was singing about how important a woman’s love was, and how it was important in a man’s life.
Entering the medical office, I was greeted by some odd looks from patients who were probably waiting for blood work and some other potential awful news. That is when I asked, “Is Juliet here?”
“Yeah, and what are you?” Asked a young woman with a long, dark, onyx colored mane, copper skin, and almond eyes.
“I swam all the way from Japan to get here.” I explained. Then I began singing. Juliet turned bright red and asked me to keep it down. She told me there were patients.
One patient, an older woman said, “I wanna hear more. It’s New York.”
Juliet turned bright red and I continued singing. Joining her, iphone out, was a black nurse who had a weave that was a combination red and blue. I could tell that when she hit the club, Juliet could probably doll up. However, she was wearing a comfortable pants suit and practical shoes. The nurse on the other hand had nails that had more stones on there than the rims of a decked out car. As I kept going, Juliet worked the range of emotions. At first she begged me to stop. Then she became resigned. After that, a smile spread over her face and tears welled up in her eyes. The hearts of the patients in the waiting room, the nurse, and hers were melting. Mine, which is normally encased in ice, was beginning to thaw as well.
Tears that normally come when watching certain black and white movies like Casablanca were starting to come. Damn both Travis Tritt and Brent MacAdam. They were bringing the woman out in me and it was the worst possible freaking moment!!!!
Finally, I read the message. It said, “To Juliet, I couldn’t be here so I sent this from Japan complete with Country Western Song and WWE Belt. Happy Belated Birthday. And if this is not a great day, I hope this makes it better. Your Favorite Marine, Brent.”
Now Juliet was silent. Her face was smiling, and now she was crying. Oh, navigating the moods of a woman are trickier than that of a mine field. This is where men and lesbians get my deepest sympathies. Okay, so the man missed her birthday. This was definitely new. It could have been yesterday, the week before, the month before, six weeks before, six months before….who knew. Either way, he was remembering now and that is what counted. Most men forget even when they know a woman for years. Brent was ahead of the game.
Brent MacAdams had joined the Marines and survived basic training. The dude already had my respect. Now he was letting the woman he cared about know he wasn’t messing around. This was courage under fire on a whole new level. Most men, soldier or civilian, are not brave enough to go there ever.
“You call that man. You call that man, right now.” The nurse with the weave commanded.
“Denise, I can’t. He’s asleep. He’d kill me.” Juliet said. Denise, the woman with the weave and the nails had a name.
“Oh, trust me. He will be happy for you to wake him up.” I said taking off my mask. “I think that’s why he sent me.”
“Yeah, I wish my husband would do that for me.” The old woman in the waiting area said.
“Yeah, totally call him. I would. And if you don’t, we will.” Denise ordered. The three of us laughed. She pointed to Juliet’s office. Juliet now knew what she had to do.
Juliet thanked me and went to call her boyfriend. I left still thinking about Brent’s bravery and how he just put his heart out there in a way I don’t often see from men who are worth anything. So many times, men feel that they have to be macho and cool all the time to win a woman. Yeah, being tough is nice and all, but being too “man” to tell a lady what is going on in your heart because you don’t want to appear weak isn’t man. It’s stupid. To be tough under pressure, cool under fire, but to be able to tell a woman you care about that you care about her, now that is a man. Brent MacAdams was a man.
Going to the train, I saw a cat fight between two women on the court house steps. They were yelling about who the idiot in question loved more, Trash Bag 1 or Trash Bag 2. As I witnessed this, I walked past a woman who was a little older than I was and we exchanged a glance. “No man is ever worth that.” She said.
“Yeah, especially since he’s enjoying every second of it.” I told her and she nodded in agreement. Then we were both on our way. What I really wanted to tell those two wasting their breath over a piece of flesh that was probably jobless was that yes, he wasn’t worth it. However, there were men out there that were. And instead of fighting over this moron and reducing themselves to idiots, maybe they should go look for a man who is strong, dedicated, committed, has a wicked sense of humor, and wears his heart on his sleeve. Yes, they are out there. I know one. He is a Marine by the name of Brent MacAdams.
While my heart went back to it’s same frozen status hours later, for a wrinkle in time Brent MacAdams had proven that there were still true, blue dudes out there. Chivalry was not dead but in a mere coma. Sure, my Prince might have worn prison orange one too many times, but I still have faith in a man who will come my way without a criminal record, drug problem, or who isn’t on more than one psych med. Brent MacAdams gave me that hope. With that, I also decided to stop making fun of Travis Tritt.
So to Brent MacAdams and the rest of the men serving overseas, have a safe and happy veterans day. FYI, the WWE Championship belt is now a regular part of my costume repertoire.
www.aprilbrucker.com
Sigh….why should I have been surprise? He was a Marine. One thing about Marines is that they are the first in and the last out. Trained to take any amount of crap and eager for armed combat, they are ready to go Rambo and live off the land if need be. Jarheads never give up their identity even when discharged. Once a Marine, always a Marine, and they will tell you this within seconds of meeting them even if it has been years since they served. I had seen a special once about Sergeant Eddie Wright, a Marine who had both his arms blown off in combat. Despite his disability and reliance on hook hands, Eddie Wright still taught self-defense to Marines and his men respected him. While it was brave, it was also slightly insane. After losing both hands I would be enjoying my disability. That being said, why would I expect normal behavior from anyone who calls themselves a Marine ever!?!
At the same time, some of my greatest fans have been Marines. As a matter of fact, two who served in Iraq have followed my career and used to show up at my shows to surprise me. Dave Rosner, who is still an active Lieutenant Colonel in the Marines, is one of my oldest friends in comedy. As a matter of fact, he encouraged me not to let my book sit in my drawer but to publish it. What I love about Marines is their willingness to be courageous, dedicated, and ability to not only honor their Marine code but laugh at themselves.
In addition to the WWE Championship Belt, Brent had another request. He wanted the pink gorilla gram to sing “Love of a Woman” by Travis Tritt. As I read over the list of commands this love sick soldier was giving me, I was amazed, awe struck, and felt like yes, this was my life. I could not make this up one bit. I laughed at the surreality of the situation, and then realized there was some work to be done.
That day I purchased a WWE Championship Belt, and spent the evening memorizing “Love of a Woman” by Travis Tritt. To say the song wasn’t so syrupy sweet that it gave me a mouth full of root canals would have been the understatement of the year. To say it wasn’t so cheesy that it would have made a plate of nachos look modest would have been a lie. These lyrics were much too much. The woman Travis Tritt sang about stuck by her man even when he was a jack ass. Not to mention this same woman viewed her man as her hero. YUCK! I wanted to tell Mr. Tritt who clearly wrote this from a sexist standpoint that most of the time, when my man was a jerkoff I pretty much let him know he was on his own. And oh, I also knew my dude was human, would disappoint me, and would probably be the one to screw the relationship up. Then there were times I would just burst out laughing because the song was just too funny for me as a feminist. I Googled Travis Tritt. The man is a die hard Republican. If he met my friends and I he would burn us as witches. In my mind I nicknamed him Travis Twit.
The next day I got to Brooklyn to deliver to Juliet, the lady love in question. I knew this was either going to be a big hit or to go over like a fat rat infected with rabies. Putting on my pink gorilla costume and WWE Championship Belt, I was armed and dangerous with the Travis Tritt lyrics. Sure, they were sexist and no such woman existed unless she had half a brain. However, I listened to them with a less cynical heart. Despite singing about a fictional woman that doesn’t exist, Travis Tritt was singing about how important a woman’s love was, and how it was important in a man’s life.
Entering the medical office, I was greeted by some odd looks from patients who were probably waiting for blood work and some other potential awful news. That is when I asked, “Is Juliet here?”
“Yeah, and what are you?” Asked a young woman with a long, dark, onyx colored mane, copper skin, and almond eyes.
“I swam all the way from Japan to get here.” I explained. Then I began singing. Juliet turned bright red and asked me to keep it down. She told me there were patients.
One patient, an older woman said, “I wanna hear more. It’s New York.”
Juliet turned bright red and I continued singing. Joining her, iphone out, was a black nurse who had a weave that was a combination red and blue. I could tell that when she hit the club, Juliet could probably doll up. However, she was wearing a comfortable pants suit and practical shoes. The nurse on the other hand had nails that had more stones on there than the rims of a decked out car. As I kept going, Juliet worked the range of emotions. At first she begged me to stop. Then she became resigned. After that, a smile spread over her face and tears welled up in her eyes. The hearts of the patients in the waiting room, the nurse, and hers were melting. Mine, which is normally encased in ice, was beginning to thaw as well.
Tears that normally come when watching certain black and white movies like Casablanca were starting to come. Damn both Travis Tritt and Brent MacAdam. They were bringing the woman out in me and it was the worst possible freaking moment!!!!
Finally, I read the message. It said, “To Juliet, I couldn’t be here so I sent this from Japan complete with Country Western Song and WWE Belt. Happy Belated Birthday. And if this is not a great day, I hope this makes it better. Your Favorite Marine, Brent.”
Now Juliet was silent. Her face was smiling, and now she was crying. Oh, navigating the moods of a woman are trickier than that of a mine field. This is where men and lesbians get my deepest sympathies. Okay, so the man missed her birthday. This was definitely new. It could have been yesterday, the week before, the month before, six weeks before, six months before….who knew. Either way, he was remembering now and that is what counted. Most men forget even when they know a woman for years. Brent was ahead of the game.
Brent MacAdams had joined the Marines and survived basic training. The dude already had my respect. Now he was letting the woman he cared about know he wasn’t messing around. This was courage under fire on a whole new level. Most men, soldier or civilian, are not brave enough to go there ever.
“You call that man. You call that man, right now.” The nurse with the weave commanded.
“Denise, I can’t. He’s asleep. He’d kill me.” Juliet said. Denise, the woman with the weave and the nails had a name.
“Oh, trust me. He will be happy for you to wake him up.” I said taking off my mask. “I think that’s why he sent me.”
“Yeah, I wish my husband would do that for me.” The old woman in the waiting area said.
“Yeah, totally call him. I would. And if you don’t, we will.” Denise ordered. The three of us laughed. She pointed to Juliet’s office. Juliet now knew what she had to do.
Juliet thanked me and went to call her boyfriend. I left still thinking about Brent’s bravery and how he just put his heart out there in a way I don’t often see from men who are worth anything. So many times, men feel that they have to be macho and cool all the time to win a woman. Yeah, being tough is nice and all, but being too “man” to tell a lady what is going on in your heart because you don’t want to appear weak isn’t man. It’s stupid. To be tough under pressure, cool under fire, but to be able to tell a woman you care about that you care about her, now that is a man. Brent MacAdams was a man.
Going to the train, I saw a cat fight between two women on the court house steps. They were yelling about who the idiot in question loved more, Trash Bag 1 or Trash Bag 2. As I witnessed this, I walked past a woman who was a little older than I was and we exchanged a glance. “No man is ever worth that.” She said.
“Yeah, especially since he’s enjoying every second of it.” I told her and she nodded in agreement. Then we were both on our way. What I really wanted to tell those two wasting their breath over a piece of flesh that was probably jobless was that yes, he wasn’t worth it. However, there were men out there that were. And instead of fighting over this moron and reducing themselves to idiots, maybe they should go look for a man who is strong, dedicated, committed, has a wicked sense of humor, and wears his heart on his sleeve. Yes, they are out there. I know one. He is a Marine by the name of Brent MacAdams.
While my heart went back to it’s same frozen status hours later, for a wrinkle in time Brent MacAdams had proven that there were still true, blue dudes out there. Chivalry was not dead but in a mere coma. Sure, my Prince might have worn prison orange one too many times, but I still have faith in a man who will come my way without a criminal record, drug problem, or who isn’t on more than one psych med. Brent MacAdams gave me that hope. With that, I also decided to stop making fun of Travis Tritt.
So to Brent MacAdams and the rest of the men serving overseas, have a safe and happy veterans day. FYI, the WWE Championship belt is now a regular part of my costume repertoire.
www.aprilbrucker.com
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