The gorgeous but deadly April Hunter is back with her latest column.
April Hunter — Hunting with April
Christmas Is Like A Fire Drill…
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19 Lbs Less, Bettie Page, Brock Lesnar & TST to OVW, Shout Outs …
TruTV: Most Daring/Most Shocking-Dec/Jan air time, not sure which. If you find out before I do, please let me know!
Bettie Page... We will always love you! The original pinup passed away this week at age 85. I’ve always been a fan of hers and I’m sure she opened many a door for me. It’s inspiring that so much beautiful art has been created thanks to her legendary centerfold work and now she will never be forgotten. I can only hope for half as much fondness when I go!
If you came out to KWA this past weekend, thank you! People keep telling me how photogenic I am apparently NOT. That I look much better in person. I’m sure they mean this as a compliment, but it’s pretty frustrating since
a.) I’m not sure what you can do to fix that and
b.) many more will see and know me on film that ever in person.
Suggestions? Other photographers to work with?
I am leaving this week for nearly a month in Canada. Photo shoots, family & friends. I wish all of you a very happy holiday. If you’re a Member, all updates will continue. All merchandise orders have been sent out.
January is going to be super exciting in the pro wrestling world of OVW in Louisville KY. They have many good things planned, including Brock Lesnar, Â…the debut of TST, which looks to be one of the most promising new stables ever, Â… JBL & more! Keep your eye out down this way or you might miss something real goodÂ…
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Shout Out!
IÂ want to wish my Flower Guy a very happy birthday!
Joey Styles, I <3 U!
Less Really Is More… Two years ago when I got hurt, I gained weight. I was in pain, but I was also feeling sorry for my lost career and myself. Sitting around watching TV with Ben & Jerry’s doesn’t help, either.
I got tired of thick thighs and moving slowly up the stairs. My doctors told me I’d heal faster with less stress on my joints, spine and ligaments.
Today, I’m happy to say that as of this week (from February 08), I’ve lost a total of 19 lbs and am back to where I was. I don’t think anything can taste as good as walking around nearly 20 pounds lighter feels. Not even Ben & Jerry’s!
I especially want to thank those of you who stood by me at this time, because you really realize whom your friends/fans are when you’re down. I remember one particularly harsh email from a fan that pointed out my weight gain in some photos. I also remember thinking how most don’t care too much about April The Model or April The Wrestler as a human and just want you to be attractive and perform. How empty of an existence that really can be when you realize that you’re nothing except a set of tits or long legs. It’s no wonder so many in the business use and abuse substances or end up killing themselves.
That realization can be a hard one to take. I’m too squeamish for either, so you’re just going to be privy to my feelings on it all. I don’t do drugs, just writing. Venting. I had another fan that wrote me constantly or would come to all my live events; we talked all kinds of wrestling endlessly. As soon as I wasn’t able to get into the ring anymore, he faded away completely. That can make you feel like the horse at Derby who broke a leg and is no longer useful. I realize that if you put yourself out in public, you’re going to get critiqued for it. . But I think too often, those doing the critique seem to forget that all too often, most can’t do what we do (trust me, just giving up ice cream is hard – try it) and that despite what outward appearance we project, we’re still human beings. We eat and poop and sleep and have insecurities just like everyone else. I’ve seen normal, grown men freak out simply because someone asked them if they’re starting to go bald. You can’t possibly imagine some of the comments WE get each week.
So to those of you who didn’t make April The Person feel worse about things that were already going on, I can’t thank you enough and I’ll never forget that kindness.
Â…And to those who did make April The Model/Wrestler feel badly– Â…you can kiss my ass. Which happens to look pretty darn awesome again.
I am sharing this with you not for a pat on the back, but to tell you that I’ve realized that we can’t control our fate. Things happen. In today’s economic times, you might not be where you planned next month. But what you CAN control is how you eat, look, feelÂ… and inadvertently, your future. You can kick ass too.
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Diet Tips:
–Some of the thinnest cultures in the world like France, Spain and Italy, eat their last meal between 8 & 11 pm. By eating dinner at a later time, you’ll cut down on the munching-endless-calories-in-front-of-the-television thing. Have a smart snack, push dinner back a few hours and see if that makes a difference in your life.
–Avoid temptation at parties and while shopping. Keep a baggy of almonds (or any nuts) around. Grab a handful of nuts here and there to keep you from doing too much damage and getting so hungry you’ll eat “anything”. Remember caffeine, too — Â…it is your friend.
–When you can, eat raw. Salads, raw nuts, raw fruit, sushi. It’s so much better for you.
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Mail: 9462 Brownsboro Rd #101, L’ville, KY 40241.
I loved this story, which was written by one of my favorite authors, so I took an hour and copied it out of Details magazine to Word for you to enjoy. I hope you like it as much as I did. It’s a little long, but hang in there until the end, especially if you’re a cynic: Â…it’s worth it.
Season’s Greetings
By Augusten Burroughs
Christmas is like a fire drill at the office. There you are, sitting at your computer doing actual work for the first time all week, not thinking about sex or whiling away whole hours looking up “genital disfigurements” on Google.
Suddenly, a shrill razor wire of a sound seizes your attention. It takes only a fraction of an instant for recognition to flood your brain — you have been trained since childhood to know this sounds and how to respond to it. It is as familiar as the smell of chalk dust.
But you are not as pliable 6- year-old anymore. You are a modern, adult, urbane. You roll your eyes in annoyance: “Oh, God.” You try to get back to your work, but you can’t. You are outside the groove now. But that’s okay. Surely they’ll shut it off in a minute.
For just the briefest moment you wonder if perhaps you should leave your office and step out into the hall. But then you realize, of course not. Fire drills aren’t meant for you. They’re for other people, the people on lower floors who do less important work.
The alarm continues. It seems to have been engineered to exfoliate the very cells of the human inner ear. It’s corrosive, an auditory acid. It is a horrible thing, this sound: inescapable and intrusive and relentless.
At least you step from your office, and this is when you see that others have done the same thing. Everyone is looking at one another with unsteady, ironic grins, as if to say, “We’re not really supposed to leave the building like a bunch of kids, are we?”
Which is when the portly fire warden assumes control of the floor. He speaks with a powerful baritone, ideal for disasters — a bulldozer of a voice: “Okay, people, everybody outside now.”
This is not a suggestion. And it does not matter that you were so very close to closing the deal or finishing the column or adding that last dormer to the roofline. This is a fire drill, and you will leave your office and go downstairs and stand on the opposite side of the street, and that is final.
You see? It’s identical to Christmas.
Christmas isn’t like the other holidays. You are perfectly welcome to have a backyard cookout on the Fourth of July, but if you’d prefer to stay indoors and eat a Lean Cuisine? Nobody will suggest you need therapy. And after a certain age, it would be considered troubling if you put on a costume and walked door-to-door asking for candy on Halloween.
Even being a Jew doesn’t get you off the hook. Hanukkah has been transformed into the Jewish Christmas. Never mind that it’s a holiday based on the rededication of a building and not the birth of a savior. Every apartment building in Manhattan has a six-foot Menorah right beside the Christmas tree. Jews are fully expected to be just as frazzled, overextended on their credit cards, and anxious out seeing family as the Gentiles.
The spell is powerful. Every television show, many movies and most of the songs on the radio are Christmas-themed. It’s impossible if you’re an American to simply forget that it’s the most wonderful time of the year.
Even in the finest stores, manically cheery holiday music is played in an endless loop of joy. This is music that doesn’t require a prefrontal cortex at all, and we like it because it comforts us. We have known the words to every one of these songs since we were 4.
We may be standing in Barneys in our $400 shoes and wondering whether our sister would prefer the scarf or the groovy umbrella, but when we hear “Jingle Bells” over the sound system we are transported back to our thumb-sucking childhood. The song is the psychological equivalent of being put down for a nap.
See, you might think that your good sense and superior mind have inoculated you against the forces of the holidays. But you are wrong. Nobody is entirely free from the gravity of this particular holiday.
The suicide rate actually drops during the Christmas season. People slip their heads out of the noose, put down the razor blade, and throw up the pills. They may feel life is not worth living, but they also feel death can wait until after the gifts are unwrapped.
Joy, family and giving: the spirit of Christmas or a marketing strategy? Maybe I’m so cynical and coal-hearted that I need to be taken out behind the barn and shot in the head, but each year, as the decorations and holiday paraphernalia arrive in stores earlier than the year before, I can’t help but think: Christmas is the orgasm the marketers have been saving up all year long.
“Doesn’t this feel motherfucking fantastic!” they scream, red-faced, in our ears. And because we are surrounded by glittering, blinking trees and everybody we know is shopping, talking about shopping, or complaining that they have so much shopping left to do, we nod our heads. “Sure, yeah, it feels great.”
In other words, even if the merriment is sometimes a little forced, we try.
Yes, we all know that Christmas is stressful, unnecessarily commercial, and emotionally exploitative. Any Brown University senior can tell you that. So why is it, then, that we continue to look up in the sky for that shining red nose?
I am about as far from Christian as a person can be while still living outside the walls of a supermax prison. Even as a child, if I had seen a man in a sleigh landing on our roof, I would have thrown rocks and stick at him.
Why, then, after building my house, did I insist on putting up a Christmas tree? “It will be fun,” I told my endlessly patient mate, Dennis. I had promised the same thing “it would be fun” about going boating on the Connecticut River with my unreliable brother. Dennis hates water and cannot swim. So the fatiguing, seven-hour boat ride is now not merely a memory for him but a scar.
Dennis was raised Catholic, has horrible memories of Catholic school, and wants nothing to do with Jesus. But because I wanted a tree, he got into the spirit of things. And the day after we plugged in the lights on this tree, our house flooded. And not just a little. We had our own miniature Katrina.
Two of the things Dennis hated most in life — water and Christmas — were now combined in our living room.
Our neighbor came to our rescue. She brought her clean-cut husband and her wet vac, and she removed the worst of the water. Then she returned a short time later, showered and polished and holding a basket of food: sandwiches, potato chips, cookies.
It was a simple gesture, but the basket stunned me because I had not been expecting it. It was an act of such goodness and kindness. It was biblical: Do unto others. And I was deeply moved.
When I thanked her, she waved it away. “It’s nothing, nothing.”
But it was everything. That evening as I lay in the dark beside Dennis, our two dogs between us, under the covers, I thought of our neighbor. And how she was the only reason we were even in our own bed. She along had made it possible. It was clear from this perspective that without her there would have been no recovery from the flood.
She had brought us more than just a wet vac. She had carried grace into our home with her bare hands.
In that basket, hidden beneath one of the sandwiches and cunningly tucked right between a chocolate-chip cookie and a bag of Cape Cod brand potato chips was Christmas itself. Pure, true Christmas. Unavailable at any mall or even at Cartier. The hardy, incorruptible and now exceedingly rare variety of Christmas — more of a substance than a holiday.
We fixed the house. Became extremely close to our neighbor and her family. And somehow, the lump of coal in my stocking had turned into something gold and shiny with street value.
And that’s just it: Christmas may be more of a registered trademark each year, but this is why we continue to pause at midnight and listen for the sound of bells, high in the sky.
Because maybe, this time, we’ll finally hear them.
Merry Christmahannukkahkwanza! Kisses! April xoxxo
Kisses… April xo
You Can Sleep With A Blonde, You Can Sleep With A Brunette.
But You’ll Never Get Any Sleep With A Redhead!
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This & That…
Note: I don’t have any kind of online messengers at all. If someone you are talking to is claiming to be me, they’re putting you on.
Email: comments@aprilhunter.com
9462 Brownsboro Rd #101, Louisville KY 40241
*Hot April Hunter DVD’s! Nude, Wrestling, Movies & more! Autographed & Include free photo! http://www.aprilhunter.com/merchandise/videos/
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Mail: 9462 Brownsboro Rd #101, L’ville, KY 40241. Contact me by email & I’ll send you a paypal request. Simple. 
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Hunter Ha Ha…
A chicken and an egg are sitting at a bar having drinks.
After a few hours a drunken patron approaches them.
“So, who came first?” he says, grinning at his cleverness.
The egg glances at the chicken, then turns to the drunk and says, “Your mother.”
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*Dear Santa, I have been mostly good, but a little naughty here and there this year. Yes, I’m still doing the nudie stuff. Does that make me a bad girl? I hope so! I might let you spank me if you bring me what’s on my list. I would like Amazon.com & Victoria’s Secret gift certificates. They’re so much fun, and I can even shop from home in my undies at 2 a.m.!
Link:Â https://www.amazon.com/gp/gc/order-email/ref=g_gc-dp_lp_email
Email:Â thisisaprilhunter@gmail.com
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