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There is No Spoon: A Pre-Christmas Story

Wednesday, December 17th, 2014
Image courtesy of cuteimage at FreeDigitalPhotos.netOne of the most well-known scenes from the Matrix is when Neo is told, “There is no spoon.” We can while away an afternoon discussing what that...

White Santa

Saturday, December 28th, 2013
There are only a few more days left until New Years so I feel like I can still write this blog. I was discussing this with some people. Megyn Kelly said Santa was white. Jesus was white. Jesus was a Jew which meant he was tan and hairy. We all know that. However, lets talk about Santa. Santa was not white. St. Nicholas, the bishop who gave presents to poor children that Santa is based off of is a Turk. So no Ms. Kelly, Santa ain't white. He is an Arab.

However, it should be noted that St. Nicholas Day, the holiday that German American's brought to the states and the basis for Santa and Christmas gift giving, that figure is white. Basically St. Nicholas Day kids put their shoes out and wait for small presents. If you are good, you get some small gifts. If you are bad Black Peter, St. Nick's helper, gives you a switch. In counties like The Netherlands, the Black Petes paint their faces in black face and supposedly stuff the bad kids in sacks to transport to Spain. Same with Germany to some extent. In the past few years this tradition has come under fire. Wonder why....

Anyway, I am German American. My people brought you Santa. We were white, and therefore we created Santa in our likeness. Nevermind he was originally Turkish. We kind of forgot about that. Truth be told, Santa Claus comes from the legend of St. Nick. In a lot of German American homes, such as mine, we celebrated both figures. On December 6th my brother, sister, and myself put out our shoes for St. Nick. On December 24th we waited for Santa. When asked how they knew each other some of our relatives said they were twin brothers. Others explained St. Nick was the warm up act for Santa. Either way, it was a strategy in keeping the morale up among people during Advent. Much is to be done during Christmas. Stress and family drama affect everyone, young and old. While we didn't know Black Peter (Thank God, that stereotype does us no favors)  we knew his assistant Nicodimus who had no skin color assigned to him. But we were told Nicodimus left a switch for bad children. I am grateful this helper did not have a negative ethnic stereotype assigned to him. I believe my parents, just like many German Americans, believe racism is wrong. Also, we had been American for several generations. None of my siblings, parents, nor do I know German. Both my grandfathers represented America in World War II, and I have great uncles whom I never met that fought in WWI. But yeah, this is Santa...

As a German American, like Thomas Nast who drew the first fat Santa and made him white, I am proud of my heritage. The Santa I know is white because I am white. A white Santa was acceptable for some time because most of the children who celebrated Christmas were white. However, the face of Christmas has changed. Now many children of many nationalities celebrate in their own way, adding their own spice to what was once a one dimensional festivity. These same children also wait for a Santa Claus figure. That being said, the face of Santa should change along with the face of those who wait for him.

In the early days, Christian missionaries told people to create Jesus in their likeness. Therefore there are Jesus's of different races in churches around the world. I believe the same should go with Santa. I would like to see Coca-Cola do a campaign for the different faces of Santa. I would like to see, in addition to the white Santa, a black Santa, Latino Santa, Asian Santa, East Indian Santa, and anyone who I am forgetting. St. Nick, the man Santa is based off of, was generous and knew no class or strata. Neither should the legend as it grows. St. Nick was about including everyone. So should be the theme of the ever growing story of Santa. Christmas teaches us that we all count. Santa's changing face should show children of all colors that they count too, whatever they may be.

In closing, as a proud German American who can say her people brought Santa, it makes me proud to see that not just we believe anymore. Christmas means peace on Earth everywhere, for all people. So let Santa and the stories surrounding him include all people, too.

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

Lessons From 2013

Friday, December 20th, 2013
This week has been an amazing week. Yesterday I got some GREAT CAREER NEWS. I will tell you more as it transpires because I don't want to jinx it. But I am psyched. I got some great news on my writing too. I just wrapped a huge project and have to Fed Ex something. All and all, things are great. It seems like this last month has been something sitting on my chest and I finally am getting much needed relief.

This year was very much about getting out of my own way. I completed my audiobook which is being released in chunks. I talked about doing it but never dreamed it would happen. Granted, Archie is probably in the corner mumbling to himself because he is being haunted by the voice of the redneck chipmunk on crystal meth. Still it was cool to meet Deborah Harry. I also got to publish for the Huffington Post. I had such an attitude about it, feeling it was a badge of snobbery. However, not only did they print me but I enjoyed becoming a part of the fold and eventually wearing the badge as a bragging right. Huff Po is a wonderful publication and has some good writers. I learned a lot about myself and my voice.

I also learned I could be the leader. I took the healm on a huge project that is now wrapping. It has been kind of cool having the save Christmas. I picture myself and a sled as a child on a crutch begs me to drive it. Somehow I am there with Rudolph and company. I learned I was smart enough. I learned never to underestimate myself. I think that is a lesson women constantly have to relearn.

The biggest lesson I learned was not to let other people get to me. Sometimes the more successful you get, the more jealous people around you become. Some are people from your past. Others are those who pretend to be friends. And then of course there are strangers who are chasing the dream who think what you have should just be theirs. It made me ill and made me cry this year. One young woman in particular made my winter/spring quite interesting. Truth be told, their jealous antics are more about them and less about me. It's about their entitlement and what they feel is owed to them. In turn, it also lets me remember what kind of person I don't want to be, and how it is important to be happy for others. Not only does it make them feel good, but it's not nice when they aren't happy for you.

Also of course it's that Christmas isn't about the drama. It's not about presents. It's about caring and giving as cheesy as that sounds.

I see my mom in a few days. It will be my first Christmas without my Nunni and Pop Pop. Grandparents are important. Perhaps that will be my next blog.
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Saving Christmas

Wednesday, December 11th, 2013
If you know anything about me, it's that I have a love/hate relationship with the holidays. I love them because Santa brings me presents. I get to see my family because we are all in one place. I also get to see my aunts and uncles. I hate the holidays because of all the stress, pressure, and family drama that always seems to occur. It's not just me, everyone has it.

Lately though things have been crazy. I have been in a series of circumstances where it seems people are counting on me for all sorts of things. Sometimes it is to give them advice. Sometimes it is to guide them. Sometimes it is to be the lynch pin on a project or two. I have a love hate relationship with this as well. I love it because it seems like people need me. But I hate it because it seems like people need me. I just see the children of the world clawing at the gates and begging me to ride Santa's sleigh. I see myself desperately searching for Rudolph and saying, "Fuck you all. Do you know how much trouble this is?!?"

Yet I see this children crying like I am their savior and I have no choice. What a self-centered, codependent dream.

Still it's how I feel right now.

As I embark on this weekend with my family, I will remember sometimes it is not about me. Whether it's my father refusing to eat at an establishment without a table cloth. Or it's my mother raw, emotional, and fresh after my Pop Pop's passing. Maybe it's my anal retentive sister Skipper making me crazy because the sound of my fingers texting interrupts her concentration. Perhaps it's the people I work with testing my last nerve. Perhaps it's some of my other business associates who do things their own way, in their own time, and make me crazy as a result.

But then I realize it isn't about me. We all need to save Christmas in our own way.

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

Being Okay

Saturday, December 7th, 2013
I have had a rough last month and a half as I have written. My family life has been stressful because of my grandfather's death. I also found out my mother had a freak accident and almost fell through the attic roof. I have other family members with other issues that I can't even go into. Work has been stressful. I am sure you are sick of hearing about it. I know my friends are.

Last night I had some writing crap to do that I have been putting off because I felt tired. I decided to swallow my pride and go to an open mic. Some of the comedians were good. Some made me want to slit my wrists. I didn't have a booked show and it was a good excuse to clear my head and get back onstage. Plus I want to tour again and need to be sharp. I actually ended up making some new friends and having fun. I felt nice, relaxed and loose onstage. It was about the comedy, not about the star power that came as a result of being the only one like myself.

I also met another ventriloquist last night. We are few and far between so it was a joy meeting another brother/sister. I also saw some friends do comedy at a show. It is wonderful to be onstage, but every once in a while you have to support your friends. For as numerous as the foes I have in this world are, there are also a lot of people who love and support me. It felt great to see live comedy, and to see so many of my friends doing well.

I know this dark patch will pass. It's the holidays. It's death. It's a whole mix of shit in the proverbial blender. After having brunch with friends and ranting my head off, I heard conga music. It made me want to be happy and dance. They say change a muscle change a thought. I did both. And a good night sleep makes a difference. Also binged on Lifetime Movies

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

Flashes of Light

Wednesday, December 4th, 2013
This month has been rough. In a way it's appropriate I returned from Nashville because it feels like a bad country song. My grandfather died on Thanksgiving. The day proved to be hell. During the prep for my big network audition I bruised my shoulder because I locked myself out of my apartment not once but twice. I got sick prepping for the network audition. I am more broke than I have been in a while because I have been travelling, plus I was paying for open mic stage time in addition to real show time to prep. I also got sick and threw up several times. The dude I was crushing on did not return the favor. I am so lucky I did not have a dog because he would have run away or died too.

Yesterday began with a fan letter. Someone read my book and enjoyed it. It was a subtle sign from the universe that things are going to get better. Sometimes we need to go through hell in order to appreciate heaven when we have it. People are reading my book and like it. In Nashville I had a fan drive two hours to meet me. That was cool. I have fans. My fan base is growing. I might even start a fan club. I don't even know the first thing about that but it could be cool.

I also did some work on a project yesterday that caused me some stress. It seems like things are coming together. I don't want to jinx it, but it seems like things are coming together. Sometimes the secret is just to relax. I tried my best. Hope I did well. Kinda had to run out prematurely for a job but the blessing of the situation is that I am working. The teaser for the project looks good. Everyone seems happy. I am part of this thing at the end of it that has been causing me angst but it's okay.

I have friends who are wonderful. So wonderful I might give them my kidney. I think tonight I will kickbox, clean my apartment, practice my music, write a little musical, and this week I will get a Christmas tree.

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

Growing and Changing: My Christmas Blog

Wednesday, December 26th, 2012
Christmas sometimes is a holiday for the young. I guess it is the whole Santa thing. A white haired guy breaks all physical barriers and slides down the chimey despite his size and the fact it killed the girl's father in Gremlins 2. Adults find fault. Children believe readily.

The whole concept of growing and changing started yesterday. My Aunt Jeanie's dog is getting bigger. I mean bear size. Burlgars beware. My cousins Colt and Legran are getting older in school. One injured his foot doing Parkour in the back yard to his mother's chagrin. Then my cousin Mindy announced she was pregnant.

Not just pregnant with one baby but WITH TWINS!!! Wait a hot minute. Does your mother know? Did you tell your husband? I remember when she was a beautiful dancer with city ballet and weight gain let alone pregnancy were the last things she wanted. Now she will be gaining plenty of weight. Now she will be eating all the iced cream and pizza she was never allowed to eat as a dancer. But twins! How time flies. This is insane. I thought it was insane when Wendell married Veronique. Now Wendell is talking about his feelings. This is all too much as my grandparents have not one great grandchild but three.

Meara was with her boyfriend, yes a steady in Georgia. Skipper is graduating medical school and going to be a real doctor. She's bright. She's an adult. But in my eyes she is still my baby sister, slipping in my bed when she has nightmares at seven years old; taking my covers. Kicking me. Being the worst bed fellow ever. But now she is no longer Skipper but Dr. Skipper.

My grandfather got his eyes fixed and he read my whole book. So age is changing some for the better.

On my dad's side my cousin Jayce's boyfriend saw me on Korean TV. I like Brendan. I hope he sticks around. I can wait for a wedding. Jennika also has a boyfriend. She is so young I don't know that it is serious. Mema wants a grandbaby though. Rob Fran, my trumpet playing cousin, released his first album but will probably be a bachelor forever. It's not that he doesn't love you baby, he loves everyone. The curse of those of us born under Libra. My grandma asked me and I was like hell no! Baby would be the last thing I wanted. Then she asked about my cousin Kacie who has been with her boyfriend Mike forever. Oh no. Kacie wants to travel the world and possibly get breast implants because her cousin on the other side did. I think she is a snappy lil number but oh well....

But then she said Kristoff would get married-yes the quiet trombone player in the Notre Dame band. The one Manti T'eo signed the Heisman ball for. And we all burst out laughing. Kacie, Mike and I discussed the wedding. We said it would be a duress, disaster, and a surprise. Who would do such a thing? Not me.

My baby cousin's, all four adopted from Russia, are growing up so quick. I remember them when they were small. They were checking the weather in Moscow. Nineteen degrees. That's warm for this time of year and it is only getting colder. Thank God for America.

My baby cousin Matthew, who I remember when he was little but not so little anymore, made the high school All-Star Team.

My other cousin Jesse and my cousin Apollo danced to a Wii game, while Andre played on his phone. Yes, that is what the kids are getting.

I feel old in some ways. Sophisticated that I am accomplishing things. But still unsure of how to handle this whole grown up thing with dignity and grace. Sometimes it is great to know I have freedom, sometimes it sucks because if I break the law they can stick a needle in my arm-no, not the stuff to get me high. The stuff to kill me. As time flies I want to know what happened to my youth and some of my dreams. Granted, sometimes they were more work than intended but still, what happened to time?

As part of me forges ahead and talks about my plans I feel like a Peter Pan's Lost Boy Rufio being left behind in the fairy dust. Despite my TV time I don't own a TV or bed because they cost money. I may always be poor and have surrendered myself to that. I have no husband or man in my sites. I might never marry let alone have children. It's just my puppets, my books, my jokes, my stage time, my TV appearances, and a warm cup of tea and Lifetime Movie in a chilly winter's eve.

But then my Mema, who is trying to break out of the nursing home, who defies doctor's orders tells me she catalogues all the books she reads. The journal is kept in her underwear drawer. I am entry 2000. She has done this practice since she was a little girl. Somethings never change. And it is all for the better.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Girl
Available on Amazon

Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm (tomorrow)
Bethel Park Library
5100 West Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA 15102

White Christmas (Bing Crosby)

Monday, December 24th, 2012
It snowed a few days ago and it is supposed to snow again tonight. The ground looks like it has pieces of sugary baking powder. I want a White Christmas. It would make my Christmas wish come true.

Yesterday it was Christmas Central at Casa Brucker. We baked cookies for close to four hours and decorated the tree for two. None of the decorating was done. My mom and sister Skipper were at Duke checking out her residency places thus being away. I love my dad but him doing a home improvement project alone is a disaster. So we all had to do the decorating together as a team. After cookie baking and decorating I felt like my head was going to explode. NO MORE! Do you know the holidays are the highest suicide and homicide times? People just get fed up. And did I mention I went to the mall before that?

I woke up this morning and felt better. The plot thickens with my former classmate. He wrote me to tell me that he did not drop out of high school but graudated with a three point two. Not to mention he was never in PE because he played basketball. And he didn't want anything serious with me. He had a kid and didn't want to confuse him. He just wanted to have fun. Good deal, fun is okay. Plus he said while his son was an accident he was a good accident. I felt bad about getting the info messed up. I didn't know him that well and made assumptions. When you assume you make an ASS out of U and ME. But he seems like he is probably a good dad. I remember him being a good dude. I was also sad when he left ultimate frisbee. He was tall and could run fast. We had an advantage. Plus it was funny to see the bad girl of the Forensics league go after him. I mean, she was blantant, bumping into him and overtly flirting. It was my entertainment for the afternoon. I have spoken to her since high school and she is always supportive of me. Thank God we have all grown up.

The whole thing made me ashamed. Shows how self-aborbed I was then and tend to be now.

But as for guys with kids, they are a slippery slope as I learned this year. Almost dated one and the kid learned I had been on TV and suddenly was asking his dad what I could buy him assuming I was rich. Yes, I am sorta famous, emphasis on the sorta, but rich, hells no. The kid wanted a pool, a convertible. I was like kid, you can get these things when I do. Before that I need to buy myself a bed and a TV SO I CAN WATCH MYSELF. Do you know how many times people have asked me if I saw myself on TV? The answer was no because I can't afford one. So I tell my friends, invite me over and I will burn you dinner. We can watch me together.

On the flipside, this is the season about giving. For as much as this holiday has driven me crazy, I am starting to get into it. I picked out the outfits for my mother, sister, and myself. I am looking forward to seeing my family. It was a pleasure to give my Mema her sweaters and glasses even though she has been the bain of the existance of every doctor and nurse there is. I will head to church with my family tonight. Then we will have a fish dinner.

Perhaps Rudolph will be on. The poor thing was born with a red nose that glowed and everyone made fun of him. The beginning when they don't let him take part in the Reindeer Games makes me cry. Even when Santa says the nose will work against him. And it breaks my heart that he runs away. But then in the end he saves Christmas. And I bet he gets a mansion and never invites Coach Comet. I hope he marries Clarice. She was sweet. Maybe it's because I was made fun of and disincluded for being different. Or maybe I am weird and have estrogen. But Rudolph should have sued them all for pain and suffering. I know he would now.

Maybe Frosty will be used as an argument for evolution and coincidence by the atheists.

But I did watch Miracle on 34th Street and The Bishops Wife in black and white and both were lovely.

Either way, I have to go. Much to be done.

I no longer abhor this holiday but am starting to look forward to it. Now where is the dancing snow man to sing, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!"

Nevermind, I will settle for Bing Instead.

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

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


Santa Claus is Coming to Town (Bruce Springsteen)

Saturday, December 22nd, 2012
It's cold here in the burgh, or should I call it the BURRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, maybe not. That was the closest I have come to a hack joke in a while. I woke up this morning and it was cold. Dante spoke about a layer of hell being ice. I think we have entered that layer. The world didn't end and I am actually okay with that. The descendants of the Mayans said it was a hoax. Still, it is cold here.

My mom informed me we were going Christmas shopping at the mall. She asked what I wanted. I told her World Peace. She said, "April, I don't think they sell that at South Hills Village." Then off we went.

We got to the mall and everyone and their mother had the same idea. Our assignment was to get something for my grandfather. Then of course matching Christmas outfits for my mom, my sister Skipper, and myself. My mom and I have two different shopping styles. We are both Libras but it comes out at different times. My Libra comes out in my quest for creativity and social justice, hers comes out in creativity but also indecision. What I mean is, I know what usually will work and what will not by looking at the outfit. My mother on the other hand tries on most of the store and then still can't decide. So she dropped me off at NY and Company to pick out the Christmas outfits while she went to the vitamin store.

I saw a black sweater that was perfect along with two runners up, one purple (Advent Theme) and one Christmas silver. The purple advent I got for me and the silver was too much work. The black would go perfectly with stretch pants, a belt and heals. So my mom came back, I tried them on and presto! She loved it. Then she went to do another errand and I picked out a red belt and stretch pants for the three of us. None of us are over five four, Skipper and I hitting it on the mark while my mother is less than five feet, so the challenge was finding a smaller size. But it was accomplished. My mom liked the belt, the earrings, and everything else.

So we get in the car to go home. Skipper and my dad are waiting. My sister is doing whatever she is doing, her shopping done, and my father is working. But we can feel them getting hungry.

On our way home we get behind the car from hell with the retarded driver possibly on medical marijuana. He is moving slow and my mom honks at him. The moron proceeds to move at bottom speed and then this kid who looks like Ralphie from A Christmas Story looks back. I told my mother to stop honking, it was only going to make them go slower. The morons would not speed up and I would tell that they were talking about us. So my mom, pissed as ever, lays it on the horn and starts honking. So these assholes are now in asshole mode and stop in the middle of traffic as to try to get my mother to run into the backs of their car and possibly sue her. Actually, they werent that smart, they just wanted to piss her off.

Now I am mad. I am really mad. Sure my mother is a rage driver but no one messes with her. The Brucker's are like the Bundy's, no matter how insane we always back each other's play. So I roll down my window and like a woman of dignity begin spouting profanity at these dickwads. I scream, "YOU LOW PLAYING MUTHERFUCKERS, YOU ARE FUCKING LUCKY YOU ARE HIDING BEHIND THE WHEEL OF YOUR CAR!!!!!" Then I proceeded to scream their license plate number as I copied it down. They sped away from us ASAP.

I asked my mother what we were going to do with the plate number. She said just keep it. I proposed slashing their tires. She proposed hiring a hit man. I pointed out that a hitman would be costly. She said she didn't have that money. I also pointed out that they were a pain in the ass because you had to pay them before, and after, and hoped that they didn't sing like a songbird if the job got screwed up. Plus if she found God in this holiday season and cancelled the hit they might take her to court like the one in West Virginia did. My mother agreed. There would be no hit men. This was all just too messy.

Well I am safely back in the nest with my new outfits and look better than those morons in front of us ever would.

Tonight we are going to church and then to visit my Mema in a nursing home. She is not happy about being there and was letting my dad know about it earlier. It has nothing to do with her noncompliance with any doctor's order whatsoever mind you. To top it off her bottom dentures have disappeared and no one can find them. But she was screaming at my dad. After the car ride home I can only think, "She is mad, she is old, and she is missing her dentures. Tony Soprano's mother was in the same boat. She hired a hit man. Watch out dad."


And then to decorate the tree and Christmas cookies.

Move over Griswalds. The Brucker's are in town.

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

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

Bah Humbug!

Friday, December 21st, 2012
The holidays are here and I am already over XMas. This morning I went to the airport. I managed to get out of bed early, well earlish almost being saved by the bell after a fun night of radio and pAArtying with the guys on CFR. I jumped in a cab and screamed, "STEP ON IT!"

I get to the airport and the line is almost a mile long! It is six in the damn morning. WOW!!!! I GOT THERE AN HOUR EARLY. IT IS ALWAYS PLENTY OF TIME. SHIT I AM GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I tell myself not to panic. My cab driver-a sweet Haitian man-told me not to panic. But it is too late, I am panicking as is the entire damn place. Well then they have the people leaving before 7 am make a line. We do but the thing is that the line isnt moving. So then we ask why the line isnt moving and we are getting testy. Some people are getting last call for their flights. We are asking what is going on and this West Indian bitch who talks too loud is telling us to calm down and mind our own business.

So the line starts to move. We all get shifted and are in a hurry. This guy tries to cut in front of me an has the nerve to say, "Excuse me, I was in front of you. You cut the line."

I turned and said, "I did not cut the line, you were trying to cut in front of me." What I meant to say was eat shit you granola eating douche bag but it is Christmas and I am trying to work on my gratitute. So then this bastard mouths off and says, "You know lady, I have a 7 am flight too."

Now I am on the border of using my mixed martial arts to let this dickwad know who is boss. He is trying to cut in front of me and pick on me because I am a woman travelling alone. I said, "Listen, if you are picking on me because I am a woman I think you are pathetic. I did not have my coffee yet." This jerkoff did not know what to say. Instead he stood there.

We all put our things through security as a woman in a wheel chair came through followed by a parade of women in wheel chairs. This jerkoff was not done. He was just getting started. He has the nerve to say to the woman wheeling the old woman, "Why does she get to go ahead of us? She is just a person and we are a bunch of people."

"Because she takes more time." The gate attendant explained.

"I would walk if I could." The old woman snapped at him.

As this jerkoff was huffing and puffing I turned around and said, "It's called civil rights. She's handicapped." I snapped. Again he shut up. He was quiet for the rest of the security check. Thank God because I was getting dangerously close to committing a felony. While I wasnt the only one who probably has wanted to deck him, if I got arrested I wouldnt get to see my Mama. I'll let a biker do the honors somewhere. Plus as fierce as I am his right hook is better.

Going through security was stressful because everyone was shoving their things in. Then I had to race to my gate without my shoes. As I am without my shoes some fat thing on a motor scooter who was riding that thing because she was over six hundred pounds tried to run over my foot. Lady, you arent handicapped, you are just fat. Maybe after you have three Big Macs as a snack you need some affirmations because you have let the waist line get out of control. She had the nerve to say, "MOVE IT!" I wanted to inform her that I did not hold her chocolate bar or the box of pizza that she had as her breakfast. But the fight in me was gone.

As I got on the plane I saw the guy I got into it with. He was just about as beat as I was. It seems the holidays put Miracle Grow on everyone's defects of character. He didnt look at me. I didnt want him too. I just think we both wanted this trip over with.

I got on my plane which was delayed on the runway. In between there I slurped down some coffee. Then I got home where it is snowing. From the inside it looks like a snow globe, on the outside it is windy and annoying.

Did I mention I already did some of my shopping and it is insane? We need to get my Mema a certain sweater and some of the colors looked like death. She just had a health care and is in a nursing home. SHE DOES NOT NEED A DEATH COLORED SWEATER BURLINGTON COAT FACTORY. THESE ARE MY NEEDS. LISTEN TO THEM!!!!!!!!

But all my shopping is not done.

I can't wait until Christmas is over. The Carols are killing me. Maybe I will convert to Judaism and celebrate Hannakah. Eight days of presents. Rich, good looking men. But then I realize they have their own holidays they hate with a passion. That I would not be off the hook. And that Hannakah Harry enters through the front door and not the chimney which is kinda lame.

Oh well.

Happy holidays

Bah Humbug

And I am too tired for a visit from any spirits.

April E. Scrooge
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Come to my book talk
December 27, 2012 at 7
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park PA 15102

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