April's Real Blog

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

What I've heard

Well, as U know, while Mike's Congratupalooza party was going on @ Weed's place, this past Saturday, I was home babysitting the littles, Robin and Merrie. So what I'm gonna tell U is a lil of what I heard.

I heard that when Liz arrived with Warren, Liz was all, "I'm glad U cd come w/me 2nite Warren!" And then Warren sed, "Oh, is that what U have planned 4 us l8r?" Just kidding! Kidding, Liz, don't hit me! No, Warren was all, "Whoa! This is such a cool place!" There is way 2 much "whoa" in our collective lexicon, peeps! NEway, Liz was all, "These R all Mike's friends. Sum of them he's known since grade school. Others R writers and illustr8ors, bizness associates...."

Looking @ a photo on the wall, I hear Warren was all, "What is this, a photo studio?" And that Liz was, like, "Uh-huh. Jo [Jo?] has shot sum of the best-known models!" There's a rumour floating abt that @ just that pt, Warren was thinking, "Whoa! --Ask him 2 bag a couple 4 ME!!" But Liz insists there's no way that's true.


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  • At 12:58 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Little sis. Mom tells me that today is Grandpa Jim’s birthday, so I think she wants you to do something for him. Probably bake him something.

    I find it interesting you are talking about my congratulations party in your Blog entry today. By the way, I think Congratupalooza is a good name for it. I am not sure why you are focusing on Elizabeth and her “date”. They barely talked to anyone, which is typical for our antisocial sister. Your description, if accurate, shows once again Elizabeth’s extraordinarily poor taste in men. Josef Weeder’s studio is really just a ware house with big windows and duct pipes all over the place. “A nightmare to get proper lighting” as Josef often says. If this Warren guy thought this warehouse was “cool”, then you can tell the man does not get out to the city very often. Liz seems to go for those rustic sorts, I suppose because they are the exact opposite of her childhood sweetheart, Anthony Caine, but it could be that having a “date” who is so ignorant affords her the opportunity to play herself as a more sophisticated city girl to him, while at the same time avoiding having conversations with anyone else at a party.

    When Elizabeth came into the party, Josef greeted her with the same greeting I think he gave every woman at the party, which was, “Don’t you know it’s cold outside?” Most of the younger women in the party were wearing short sleeves or spaghetti straps, except our wise mother, of course. Then the next thing Josef would say is, “Would you like some wine? I know the party was supposed to be Bring Your Own Beverage, but Carleen made me get some wine. I picked it out myself. All Canadian.” Needless to say, most of the people spent the evening carrying around, but not drinking the wine. I much prefer it when Carleen picks the wine, but I suppose she was too busy showing off her navel to people to take on that task.

    Another topic of conversation was people wondering why Tracey Mayes had gone crazy with the highlights in her hair, and wondering if Gordon Mayes’ history with his abusive, alcoholic father had somehow managed to keep him from learning how to properly tie a tie; but most of that was to distract us from getting too depressed over the way Gordon looks like a 65-year-old man now. It’s hard to believe Gordon is just one year older than I am.

    Anyway, don’t forget to do something for Grandpa Jim. I think he’s the only man I know who looks older than Gordon.

    Michael Patterson

  • At 1:25 PM, Blogger howard said…


    I read your Blog entry today to my assistant Francine. She said, “Oh I know all about that. I was there.” I said, “You went to that party?” Francine said, “I was invited and already accepted before Mike Patterson left Portrait Magazine. Plus, I promised Mike I would wear my special blouse he likes so much.” I said, “Please tell me it’s not a blouse that humiliates you in some way.” Francine said, “No. It’s very fashionable. I have a picture of me in it.” Then Francine showed me a picture of a short-sleeve, blouse with fringe on the bottom of it, where each fringe ends in a little round bell. I said, “Well, Francine. That’s quite an alluring blouse. Any man who sees you in it gets a clear message of ‘Take me! Take me! Take me to the circus!’ Once I my prison term is finished, I have to take you shopping. Please don’t wear that blouse again. Even better, bring it here and I will burn it.”

    Francine said, “But it’s Michael’s favourite.” I said, “How can you tell?” Francine said, “Mike complimented me on it. I remember what he said exactly. He said, ‘Francine. In that shirt you look as lovely as some of Jo’s favourite models. Their names are Harley Quinn and Merry Andrew. In fact, you have the same jester, I mean gestures they do. Oh, if you don’t like the wine, you should try the punch-inello.’ He was practically gushing over it.” I said, “Those awful puns sound like something Mike would say. Definitely burn the blouse.”

    Anyway, Francine was at your brother’s party. I don’t know if anyone else from Portrait Magazine was there. I forgot to ask Francine.

    Howard Bunt

  • At 2:08 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, u haven’t come 2 get ur sea world gift frum me in detention yet, but karen, anne nichols’ niece came by 2c me & get her seaworld prezzie, which wuz a dolphin flute. karen is rilly n2 the musick, since she plays violin 4 the "dreamweavers” junior theatre group. she seemed 2 like the flute.

    i sed, “i’m glad u came 2 visit me.” she sed, “whoa! this is such a cool place.” i sed, “the detention room. u gotta b kidding. it’s got pipes running thru the walls and the ceiling.” karen sed, “i wuz tryin’ 2b nice.” she pointed ovah 2 where bianca, miriam, & moe hawk were sittin’ & sed, “friends of urs?” i sed, “no. i don’t have ne friends in here, xxcept u. they’re in here 4 the same reasn az me.” karen sed, “4 callin’ every1 in special needs ‘retarded’.” i sed, “thass the reasn.” karen sed, “well it is pretty mean 2 do that.” i sed, “wut term do u prefer?” karen sed, “mentally handicapped i think is the politically correct term.” moe hawk sed, “my mom argued that mental retardation is a DSM IV diagnosis, #317 thru #319 & shud not b considered offensive. the principal didn’t lissen 2 her. nobody lissens 2 us light-challenged peeps.” bianca sed, “i wuz told 2 say developmentally impaired.” miriam sed, “no. it’s developmentally disabled.” i sed, “wut ‘bout developmentally challenged?” moe, miriam & bianca sed, “thass just st00pid.” & they started talkin’ among themselves again.

    karen sed 2 me, “is that guy a silhouette?” i sed, “he’s light-challenged, but bianca & miriam seem 2 like him ok. they’ve been fishing ‘round 4 him 2 ask them out all week.” karen said, “if they don’t land him in their catch, i might wanna cast my shadow 4 him.” i sed, “shudn’t u b sayin’ that in a thought balloon?” karen sed, “oh rite. sorry, jeremy.”

    then karen hadda leave 4 class. thass been it so far 2day.

  • At 3:54 PM, Blogger Vicki Simone said…

    I didn't tell u this b4, Apes, but Lars, the saxophonist w/Burned Butt Casserole played @ yr bro's congratupalooza bash. Lars told me he doesn't know what possessed him 2 wear that Olivia Newton-John "Physical" era headband, but maybe it was sum unseen force that told him yr sister thot headbands on dudes were hott.

    I guess u can be glad Weed cut some corners on the partee budget. The stemware looked hella cheap. Lars sed he saw Liz & Warren staring at some of the photographs & the stem of his wineglass looked off-centre.

    Jeremy, thanx 4 hanging w/Gordie while he's been recovering when yr not n detention. The only downside 2 him is that yr better @ Gears of War than he is now!


  • At 6:03 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    vicki, no prob hangin’ w/gordie. mom sez i am grounded, xxcept 4 wen i visit gordie @ st. michael's on accounta my history w/injuries & visits. no worries ‘bout gears of war. most tymez gordie & i do multiplayer cooperative mode. gordie duz marcus fenix & i do dominic santiago.

    ur v-girl friend vanessa tried her plan 2 get me outta detention 2day. it wuz sumthin’ ‘bout an internship 4 xtra credit, but it turns out the principal checked out i wuz in grade 10 & i wuzn’t eligible. i think ur friend vanessa thot i wuz oldah, cuz i heard her sayin’ 2 the principal sumthin’ ‘bout how i looked 40 years old, so must be @least grade 12.

    i hadda a ruff tyme aftah skool again. the special needs peeps caught me az i wuz tryin’ anothah way outa skool. they dragged me ovah to wut looked like a rocket & it looked like they were gonna tie me to it. i saw shannon lake standin’ by the fuse with a box of matches. i sed 2 shannon, “wtf ru doin’?” shannon sed, “puttin’…u…on…a…roket…2…mars, jeremy…jones.” i sed, “thass rocket with a ‘c’”. shannon sed, “ur…gonna…pay…4…that. ur…gonna…pay…4…callin’…every1…in…special…needs…’retarded’.” i sed, “ok. this haz gone far enuff. i didn’t call every1 in special needs ‘retarded’. 4 sum reasn, shannon, u seem 2 have 4gotten special needs duzn’t just mean students w/just a mental disability. it means students who have been diagnosed w/ne degree of physical disability, mental disability, communicative disorder, behavioural disorder, or who r gifted. y wud i call sum1 who iz blind ‘retarded’? y wud i call a paraplegic ‘retarded’. there iz no way i wud or ne1 wud call every1 in special needs ‘retarded’. a lotta special needs kids r way smarter than i am.”

    the blind guy nolan sed, “he’s rite, shannon. jeremy’s nevah called me ‘retarded’.” then the kid in the wheelchair sed, “wen i lost the use of my legs aftah i got hit by the truck, jeremy wuz rilly sympathetic 2 me, cuz of wen he got hit by a truck. he’s nevah called me ‘retarded’.” shannon sed, “ok…ok…mebbe…jeremy’s….nevah…called…every1…in…special….needs…’retarded’….but…he…has…called…the…peeps…in…special…needs…who…r…mentally…challenged… ‘retarded’. &…also…all…the…peeps…who…r… intellect…ually…challenged…or…have…an…intell…ectual…disability.” 4tun8ly 4 me, by the tyme shannon finished talkin’, the peeps who had been holdin’ me got bored & walked away.

    i started walkin’ away & shannon yelled @me, “jeremy…jones…ur…ignorant…&….ur…mean, but…it’s…not…ur…fault…cuz….u…were…born…that…way!” i turned ‘round 2 shannon & sed, “so it’s alright 2 say i wuz born ignorant & mean, but it’s not alright 2 call sum1 ‘retarded’?” shannon sed, “it’s…alright…az…long…az…i…don’t…h8…u.” i sed, “u wunted 2 put me on a rocket 2 mars!” shannon sed, “not…h8. space…exploration…&…cleanin’…the…planet.” i sed, “let me lay a politically correct term on u, shannon lake. ur a hypocrite.” & i walked on home. i felt pretty good. i think the special needs kids may leave me alone @least 4 the rest of the day.

  • At 6:57 PM, Anonymous alto escurrido said…


    It is I who landed the Gordon Mayes baby-sitting job, after you left it to baby-sit your niece and nephew. I get $75 a night, and the Mayes children practically put themselves to bed. I can’t believe you gave up this job. It is the best baby-sitting job in town.

    Don’t think you can get your other job of baby-sitting Anthony Caine’s child back either. Gerald Forsythe’s younger sister got that job.

    Also, stay away from my boyfriend, Luis Guzmán. I had a lot of people tell me they saw you touching each other at the mall a few weeks ago. Luis said he was telling you his refugee story, but I know that’s a lie. No one can stand to hear that story.

    Alto Escurrido

  • At 6:58 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    mike, that stuff i wrote abt liz an' warren is all i've heard abt from the party so far. it's not my fault no1 has told me nething else. if u have more important stuff 2 tell abt fr the party, go rite ahead!

    howard, that blouse soundz v. un4tun8!!!

    jeremy, a liaison fr the special-needs students sez it's ok 4 me 2 stop by detention after school 2morrow an' get the seaworld gift fr. u. so i'll c u then. sorry 2 hear shannon was so mean.

    vicks, it figs weed cheaped out!

    neway, peeps, i m writing this fr. gramps an' iris's place. i brot a special b-day cake, sum prezzies, and my guitar. iris seemed a lil disappointed that no1 else from the fam bothered 2 come by 2 wish gramps a happy, but then she sed it's just as well cuz @ least she an' gramps can tell i'm here cuz i wanna b. we've been having a nice lil celebration.


  • At 7:03 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    omg, alto, who got yr panties in a big ol' twist? it's not my fault i hadta give up that babysitting gig. i had no choice. but i WILL get my gig back, cuz the mayes and my fam go way back, and u r just a poor substitute 4 ME!

    honoria forsythe can HAVE that job babysitting françoise caine. anthony pays like $1/hr and he makes u clean up the most disgusting messes all over the house. including the bathroom, iykwim.

    and i've got zero romantic interest in luis, so if that is yr reason 4 being so bitchy 2 me, now wd b a gd time 2 rethink all that.


  • At 8:21 PM, Anonymous Alto Escurrido said…


    Zero romantic interest in Luis. Ha! I’ve heard all about your family and its tricky romantic financing. You say you're “just friends” or it’s “nothing serious” and the next thing you know Luis will be running around your yard screaming about how happy he is just to get to talk to you. I am keeping my eye on you, and you're not getting the Mayes’ baby-sitting job back. Mrs. Mayes says she is much happier with a babysitter who stays awake when she is on the job.

    Alto Escurrido

  • At 8:29 PM, Anonymous Tracey Mayes said…

    Sorry, Alto, but April is right. She is getting our babysitting "business" again as soon as her brother is in his own place. I was making a joke when I commented about babysitters who stay awake--April was only 11 when she fell asleep that one time, so she gets a little slack!


  • At 1:54 AM, Anonymous Alto Escurrido said…

    Mrs. Mayes,

    As soon as her brother is in his own place. I accept those terms, Mrs. Mayes. I can see we will have a long association of baby-sitting ahead of us.

    Alto Escurrido

  • At 2:31 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Little sis. Sometimes there are occasions or situations which can leave even the most accomplished speaker at a loss for words. Such was the scene at my Congratupalooza, when my good friend Josef Weeder stood on top of a previously-unseen platform to address the collected gathering of my well-wishers. Josef started off with, “Ladies and Gentoids, may I have your attention, please!” This is a perfectly normal way of addressing a crowd, except, of course, for the word “gentoid”. As I was standing there, I wracked my brain, running down the list of all the slang words I know, and yet a definition for “gentoid” did not come to mind. The obvious word derivation of the first syllable “gent-“ is short for “gentlemen”, which is the word which normally accompanies the word “ladies” in these kinds of addresses. However the suffix “-oid” means “resembling or like,” and is used in the formation of adjectives and nouns (and often implying an incomplete or imperfect resemblance to what is indicated by the preceding element), like anthropoid or planetoid. I was struck with fear. Had my good friend, Josef Weeder just insulted every man in the gathering, by saying that they were incomplete or imperfect gentlemen? And if that was his intention, did he say it out of jealousy for the male attention being given to me by my guests? It is true that I could not think of a man in the room who meant more to me than Josef Weeder, but is it possible that I had not communicated that to Josef in some way? Did he doubt me, after all the years we have been together?

    I can tell you little sis. I feared what Josef would say next. Then he said, “Tonight’s soirée is in honor of writer extraordinaire – Michael Patterson! He has just signed his first contract with a publisher…” My mind was racing again. Josef used not one French word, but two. He knows how I and my whole family feel about the French. This was a definite insult. Not only that but he said “honor” without the “u”, which is a slight to all us Canadians. Those 3 words spelled “doom”, not the word but the outcome. I had done something to upset Josef. I looked down at all the people who had gathered before me. My friends, family, and business associates and they all went black, with a light white outline. They had gotten the subtle insult in Josef’s introduction. I rolled up the sleeves on my shirt and prepared to do physical battle in order to regain my honour, with a “u”. I know I had a grim look on my face as I approached Josef. Deanna later told me my face was less “grim” and more “old man without dentures in”, but it doesn’t matter. I made my way past the strangely-coloured balloons which were hanging in midair next to the platform.

    Then Josef said, “On behalf of your friends and family-and this is from the heart, man…congratulations on becoming an AUTHOR. “ And as he said it, Josef put his hand to my heart. There were no more French words; after all, Josef could have said “auteur”. There was only the warm feeling I get whenever Josef touches my chest and his heartfelt congratulations. My bad feelings melted away like ice on a Milborough street. I should have known Josef would be feeling a tad jealous, but would never let it get in the way of our friendship. My feelings welled up inside of me. As the crowd started saying my name, the word balloons seemed to come at me from all sides--- to my left, to my right, disembodied directly over my head, and even cutting into the old brain cavity a bit. I could feel my eyes going googly. I could feel my head or my ego expanding or elongating. I am not sure which. It was too much for me, little sis. Your big brother, the soon-to-be-published, best-selling author had finally reached one of those situations I described in my first paragraph. I was speechless.

    Then I remembered what my old English teacher had told me back in J school. She said, “Mike Patterson. When you have nothing to say, it really is better for you just to say you have nothing to say than to try to say something; because when you have nothing to say, your work is considerably worse than the awful material you produce when you do have something to say.” Those words came at me from my past and escaped onto my lips as I said, “Um…I…don’t know what to say.” I guess that old English teacher was right about something after all. Let that be a lesson to you little sis---When you have nothing to say, just say it.

    Michael Patterson


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