April E. Brucker's Blog, page 36
April 10, 2014
Just a Friend (Biz Markie)
It all begins when you have a crush on a dude, and they totally mac back. Or are they macking back? It is never quite known. Sometimes I miss the signals, sometimes they miss them too. Either way, when they turn out to be a missed connection and then you are friend zoned it is a bizarre world. Yeah.
I remember my first dalliance into this was when I was in high school. This dude and I were enemies, and then we had an English class and became friends. Then I discovered I had a crush on him. I was totally hitting on him, and then one day he decided he didn't want to sit next to me anymore. Later on VDay he brought flowers to my other friend which totally crushed me. But I survived. They were a better couple than we were. While they didn't last, we remained friends. He has even seen me perform a few times here in NYC. We joke about my high school crush, and it is for the best we became friends. We would have made a lousy couple.
My senior year I did the strange dance with Bobby Parker. He was the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, I hadn't yet discovered what bad decisions were. People wondered what our connection was, and he beat up anyone who said anything bad about me. He had a girlfriend opposite town over who knew about me and wasn't very happy. We never met though, but she was probably a redneck like every chick in that school. Anyway, we did this bizarre flirtation and then I went away to college. Yeah, he broke my heart. But then he got deep into drugs and really wrecked his life. Then he got clean, found God, and annoys the shit out of everyone. As a bonus, he married a girl he met in rehab and now they own and operate a Christian tattoo parlor. Okay, it was better that one didn't work out. And when we see each other we are friends. I thank God he isn't my husband.
College saw the same exact thing. First semester freshmen year, I met an upperclassman transfer I totally dug. I drunk dialed him and said I loved him because I was just loaded. He never spoke to me again. My RA explained he was just trying to protect his penis because I had appeared Lorena Bobbit crazy. Well he showed up to summer session with a new girlfriend and pretended we were all just friends. I was willing to pretend too. It was awkward if I didn't. Well now when we see each other, we are friends. I think he is still kinda scared of me though. In the end, it was better that didn't work out too.
Another dude I became just friends with was one I met after college. We both did comedy and all. I liked him, he liked me, and we kind of just went back and fourth. Nothing ever happened. Then he met his now wife and it was all over. He doesn't perform as much, and has a kid. We are the best of friends, and his wife is a doll. I wish him nothing but the best, and in the end as I have said before, we would have been a terrible match. Hey, a friend who loves you is better than an ex who hates your guts. Trust me, I know.
Then there are those who aren't happy about just being friends. One is an ex of mine who didn't want to be my boyfriend but wanted all the fringe benefits. So when I found someone who did want to be with me, he began to try to win me back at a furious speed. He later married a good friend of mine who decided she hated me after they became engaged. Then he messaged me on his wedding day which was crazy. We worked on a few projects together, and we always were a good team. But his wife hates me as I said. A few months ago, my life was going well and his was in the shitter. He made a scene when I said he was an old friend. Hey, he could have been Mr. April Brucker but he screwed that one up.
Another is a friend of mine from back when I connected with. His relationship was on the rocks. I was single. Things got crazy cause we spent waaaayyyyy too much time together. He got crazyyyyyy possessive over me. I wish things worked out between us, but I didn't want to mess up the friendship we had. He likes me and I like him. As I have said he was a Mac Daddy back in the day, and he is surrounded by way too many sexy women. Still, he got weird when I called him an old friend once. Complicated much?
And then things got even crazier with another flirtation last winter spring. He was a Dominican dude, so not my type. At first I thought he reminded me of a dude who broke my heart. But we clicked. However he was a game player as Spanish dudes tend to be. Things got complicated and bizarre whenever we saw each other without anything actually happening. I just got annoyed with his games and put an end to it. I know he still wants me but I am over him like the Brooklyn Bridge over water. If he wants to be an adult he can find me. But Spanish guys suck at that as I said. Then again, all guys suck at that.....Oops.
I just had a dude who I had a flirtation with that has turned into just a friend. I feel hurt and disappointed but I don't do games. He plays games and I am sooooooo not into that. I still do find him dead sexy though, but the games spoil everything. Then he had a snit fit when I didn't run after him. Do yourself a favor chico and buy a life at the dollar store. Still, I enjoy his company, think he's funny, and we have common interests. I think he is gonna be just a friend. Yeah, I can totally do better.
Now off to tend to my career, my first and only true love. Hopefully it won't disappoint me like the men I date.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.
I remember my first dalliance into this was when I was in high school. This dude and I were enemies, and then we had an English class and became friends. Then I discovered I had a crush on him. I was totally hitting on him, and then one day he decided he didn't want to sit next to me anymore. Later on VDay he brought flowers to my other friend which totally crushed me. But I survived. They were a better couple than we were. While they didn't last, we remained friends. He has even seen me perform a few times here in NYC. We joke about my high school crush, and it is for the best we became friends. We would have made a lousy couple.
My senior year I did the strange dance with Bobby Parker. He was the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, I hadn't yet discovered what bad decisions were. People wondered what our connection was, and he beat up anyone who said anything bad about me. He had a girlfriend opposite town over who knew about me and wasn't very happy. We never met though, but she was probably a redneck like every chick in that school. Anyway, we did this bizarre flirtation and then I went away to college. Yeah, he broke my heart. But then he got deep into drugs and really wrecked his life. Then he got clean, found God, and annoys the shit out of everyone. As a bonus, he married a girl he met in rehab and now they own and operate a Christian tattoo parlor. Okay, it was better that one didn't work out. And when we see each other we are friends. I thank God he isn't my husband.
College saw the same exact thing. First semester freshmen year, I met an upperclassman transfer I totally dug. I drunk dialed him and said I loved him because I was just loaded. He never spoke to me again. My RA explained he was just trying to protect his penis because I had appeared Lorena Bobbit crazy. Well he showed up to summer session with a new girlfriend and pretended we were all just friends. I was willing to pretend too. It was awkward if I didn't. Well now when we see each other, we are friends. I think he is still kinda scared of me though. In the end, it was better that didn't work out too.
Another dude I became just friends with was one I met after college. We both did comedy and all. I liked him, he liked me, and we kind of just went back and fourth. Nothing ever happened. Then he met his now wife and it was all over. He doesn't perform as much, and has a kid. We are the best of friends, and his wife is a doll. I wish him nothing but the best, and in the end as I have said before, we would have been a terrible match. Hey, a friend who loves you is better than an ex who hates your guts. Trust me, I know.
Then there are those who aren't happy about just being friends. One is an ex of mine who didn't want to be my boyfriend but wanted all the fringe benefits. So when I found someone who did want to be with me, he began to try to win me back at a furious speed. He later married a good friend of mine who decided she hated me after they became engaged. Then he messaged me on his wedding day which was crazy. We worked on a few projects together, and we always were a good team. But his wife hates me as I said. A few months ago, my life was going well and his was in the shitter. He made a scene when I said he was an old friend. Hey, he could have been Mr. April Brucker but he screwed that one up.
Another is a friend of mine from back when I connected with. His relationship was on the rocks. I was single. Things got crazy cause we spent waaaayyyyy too much time together. He got crazyyyyyy possessive over me. I wish things worked out between us, but I didn't want to mess up the friendship we had. He likes me and I like him. As I have said he was a Mac Daddy back in the day, and he is surrounded by way too many sexy women. Still, he got weird when I called him an old friend once. Complicated much?
And then things got even crazier with another flirtation last winter spring. He was a Dominican dude, so not my type. At first I thought he reminded me of a dude who broke my heart. But we clicked. However he was a game player as Spanish dudes tend to be. Things got complicated and bizarre whenever we saw each other without anything actually happening. I just got annoyed with his games and put an end to it. I know he still wants me but I am over him like the Brooklyn Bridge over water. If he wants to be an adult he can find me. But Spanish guys suck at that as I said. Then again, all guys suck at that.....Oops.
I just had a dude who I had a flirtation with that has turned into just a friend. I feel hurt and disappointed but I don't do games. He plays games and I am sooooooo not into that. I still do find him dead sexy though, but the games spoil everything. Then he had a snit fit when I didn't run after him. Do yourself a favor chico and buy a life at the dollar store. Still, I enjoy his company, think he's funny, and we have common interests. I think he is gonna be just a friend. Yeah, I can totally do better.
Now off to tend to my career, my first and only true love. Hopefully it won't disappoint me like the men I date.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.
April 9, 2014
Baby Love (Regina)
It is spring again and the birds are out. It means love is in the air, kind of. The creepy men are out and about. I had a few strangers whistle at me from their trucks. I always get mixed feelings about this. One third of me, the feminist, is turned off. I want to tell them about my NYU degree, not that the piece of paper makes me much money. The other part of me is insecure, the fat girl who was asked out as a joke, and is scared by the male attention. The third part of me is enthralled, intrigued, and wants to jump in the front seat of the truck.
The guys across the street from me play a mean game of B-Ball. Usually they are mixed in age. Some of the young guys look older from far away. Much of me fears mistaking the young for old and treading on dangerous legal territory. A former high school classmate of mine is on a sex offender registry for distributing kiddie porn. I don't want to join him for thinking a 15 year old was 21. Not that the 15 year old will mind. Still, me paying at McDonalds. I want him to disappoint me and be of legal age, thank you very much.
There is a part of me aching for a guy. It is strange because it has been forever and a day since I had one. I also like to have a fling that begins in spring. My Tony Manero was the last fling I had in the spring. He was two years ago. I remember the whole thing started out so good. I really liked him and he really liked me. Then I found out the hasbeen was using me to revive his flagging career. It really hurt when I found out. My mother tells me I should be flattered. Meanwhile, it hurt. I have been abused and misled enough in matters of the heart. I have blogged enough about it for people to know. I didn't deserve the using that he did. I hope he chokes everytime he plays an old person resort, or knows I am climbing to new heights.
The truth is, I probably wouldn't know how to talk to a guy. I watch the guys in the court across the street from me, and wave shyly. They think I am some weirdo in jeans and a ball cap, and probably are discussing a plan of action because they think I am armed and dangerous like the Lifetime Movies I watch. My mom keeps trying to get me to join EHarmony. I am not sure I am ready to die just yet. She also tried to get me to hit on a husky man in an elevator. Is this what my life has sunk to?
There are several hot guys I have my eyes on. One goes to my church. He always goes to the mass after mine. Always with his family, too. I don't think he knows I am alive. And if he does, he probably thinks I look like a drip. It has been cold so I am not especially dressy for church. Still, he is cute. Is it wrong to check out men is church? It's sinning, not winning.
Then another is a friend of mine. Things got crazy between us a year ago. He has a girlfriend he is always on the rocks with. Plus he is a Cancer. Both the already committed and crab say run. But things got gray in a way neither one of us were prepared for. Plus he was a Mac Daddy back in the day. I was rather shy, actually. However, since then I had one ex go nuts over me, and one ex's wife go cukoo for coca puffs. Can there be two Mac Daddy's under one roof?
The third is a fella on the West Coast. I didn't like him when we met. Actually, I thought he was a prick.But like fungus he grew on me. I actually hope to see him again. I dream about him being a better kisser than both the guy at church and my friend.
The fourth is someone I chat with quite a bit. He knows who he is. This chico is a mover, shaker, and a dancer. I don't know if he likes me like that or as just a friend. Plus he is kind of a ladies man. Still, he is a McCutie. Plus a lot of the girls like him and the competition is weird. They have good things I don't, like they go for it.
Either way, my super Spooky Juice is not giving up just yet. He gave me some money to buy a leather dress and gave me a suitcase. He gives me a kiss every time he sees me. Spooky reminded me this is our month. He also remembers the first outfit he saw me in. Spooky reads my blog quite a bit.
Then again, so does the crazy concubine of my ex who hates my guts and probably has a voodoo doll of me. She was actually off my case for a few months because apparently she was getting professional help. But I guess that failed like her whole life. Last Sunday she called me 16 times and hung up. At this point in my life I don't get annoyed. I don't get angry because God already hates her. Instead I gently ask, "Shouldn't George be sexually disappointing you on his beautiful Sunday?"
She has scaled back, only calling me 3-4 times under her blocked number. Maybe she is beginning to admit it to herself. She wants me. She wants to lick me and suck me like a chocolate Cadberry Easter Egg. I know I am sexy, Baby. Hey, if it were between me and this ex, I would want to go to bed with me too. Can't blame the girl. Still, she should ask me out on a proper date instead of being creepy. Oh, she is acting like some of the men who send me fan mail. (Note: Most are good. But there was one dude who mentioned seeing me on Netflix and undressing me with his eyes. Thank God for a PO Box).
Or better yet, maybe she should feed her cat who is probably forced to forage for itself. Or walk some dogs or something cause that is what she does in between drug binges. Better yet, practice with her band that no one goes to see. Yeah, so if you are gonna ask me out baby do it. But don't come dressed like me. And don't come with the blood red hair. Both are weird.
Yeah, my life is high drama. Either an ex is stalking me or an ex's bitch is stalking me because he lets the retard out of her cage. Can't I get a normal boyfriend? In the words of the mother in As Good As It Gets, "Honey, there is no such thing."
So now I think of it. I have had a fiance and that failed. Then I had a boyfriend who was a lawyer who turned out to be a liar. After him I had an almost boyfriend who was waaaayyyy too clingy but worked for a famous dude. After him, I had a friend who wanted more and just wouldn't stop and that ended our friendship. Oh, and then I had Holden who I am kinda sorta still in love with. After him was Tony. And now I don't know.
Men are like dogs. They slobber, drool, and you have to bathe them. They also demand constant attention. I have a DVD taping in less than two weeks. I have shit to do.
On the other hand, most of my fans are male. They enjoy my sexy pics. Did I mention I love guys?
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.
The guys across the street from me play a mean game of B-Ball. Usually they are mixed in age. Some of the young guys look older from far away. Much of me fears mistaking the young for old and treading on dangerous legal territory. A former high school classmate of mine is on a sex offender registry for distributing kiddie porn. I don't want to join him for thinking a 15 year old was 21. Not that the 15 year old will mind. Still, me paying at McDonalds. I want him to disappoint me and be of legal age, thank you very much.
There is a part of me aching for a guy. It is strange because it has been forever and a day since I had one. I also like to have a fling that begins in spring. My Tony Manero was the last fling I had in the spring. He was two years ago. I remember the whole thing started out so good. I really liked him and he really liked me. Then I found out the hasbeen was using me to revive his flagging career. It really hurt when I found out. My mother tells me I should be flattered. Meanwhile, it hurt. I have been abused and misled enough in matters of the heart. I have blogged enough about it for people to know. I didn't deserve the using that he did. I hope he chokes everytime he plays an old person resort, or knows I am climbing to new heights.
The truth is, I probably wouldn't know how to talk to a guy. I watch the guys in the court across the street from me, and wave shyly. They think I am some weirdo in jeans and a ball cap, and probably are discussing a plan of action because they think I am armed and dangerous like the Lifetime Movies I watch. My mom keeps trying to get me to join EHarmony. I am not sure I am ready to die just yet. She also tried to get me to hit on a husky man in an elevator. Is this what my life has sunk to?
There are several hot guys I have my eyes on. One goes to my church. He always goes to the mass after mine. Always with his family, too. I don't think he knows I am alive. And if he does, he probably thinks I look like a drip. It has been cold so I am not especially dressy for church. Still, he is cute. Is it wrong to check out men is church? It's sinning, not winning.
Then another is a friend of mine. Things got crazy between us a year ago. He has a girlfriend he is always on the rocks with. Plus he is a Cancer. Both the already committed and crab say run. But things got gray in a way neither one of us were prepared for. Plus he was a Mac Daddy back in the day. I was rather shy, actually. However, since then I had one ex go nuts over me, and one ex's wife go cukoo for coca puffs. Can there be two Mac Daddy's under one roof?
The third is a fella on the West Coast. I didn't like him when we met. Actually, I thought he was a prick.But like fungus he grew on me. I actually hope to see him again. I dream about him being a better kisser than both the guy at church and my friend.
The fourth is someone I chat with quite a bit. He knows who he is. This chico is a mover, shaker, and a dancer. I don't know if he likes me like that or as just a friend. Plus he is kind of a ladies man. Still, he is a McCutie. Plus a lot of the girls like him and the competition is weird. They have good things I don't, like they go for it.
Either way, my super Spooky Juice is not giving up just yet. He gave me some money to buy a leather dress and gave me a suitcase. He gives me a kiss every time he sees me. Spooky reminded me this is our month. He also remembers the first outfit he saw me in. Spooky reads my blog quite a bit.
Then again, so does the crazy concubine of my ex who hates my guts and probably has a voodoo doll of me. She was actually off my case for a few months because apparently she was getting professional help. But I guess that failed like her whole life. Last Sunday she called me 16 times and hung up. At this point in my life I don't get annoyed. I don't get angry because God already hates her. Instead I gently ask, "Shouldn't George be sexually disappointing you on his beautiful Sunday?"
She has scaled back, only calling me 3-4 times under her blocked number. Maybe she is beginning to admit it to herself. She wants me. She wants to lick me and suck me like a chocolate Cadberry Easter Egg. I know I am sexy, Baby. Hey, if it were between me and this ex, I would want to go to bed with me too. Can't blame the girl. Still, she should ask me out on a proper date instead of being creepy. Oh, she is acting like some of the men who send me fan mail. (Note: Most are good. But there was one dude who mentioned seeing me on Netflix and undressing me with his eyes. Thank God for a PO Box).
Or better yet, maybe she should feed her cat who is probably forced to forage for itself. Or walk some dogs or something cause that is what she does in between drug binges. Better yet, practice with her band that no one goes to see. Yeah, so if you are gonna ask me out baby do it. But don't come dressed like me. And don't come with the blood red hair. Both are weird.
Yeah, my life is high drama. Either an ex is stalking me or an ex's bitch is stalking me because he lets the retard out of her cage. Can't I get a normal boyfriend? In the words of the mother in As Good As It Gets, "Honey, there is no such thing."
So now I think of it. I have had a fiance and that failed. Then I had a boyfriend who was a lawyer who turned out to be a liar. After him I had an almost boyfriend who was waaaayyyy too clingy but worked for a famous dude. After him, I had a friend who wanted more and just wouldn't stop and that ended our friendship. Oh, and then I had Holden who I am kinda sorta still in love with. After him was Tony. And now I don't know.
Men are like dogs. They slobber, drool, and you have to bathe them. They also demand constant attention. I have a DVD taping in less than two weeks. I have shit to do.
On the other hand, most of my fans are male. They enjoy my sexy pics. Did I mention I love guys?
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.
April 8, 2014
Six Degrees of Evan Williams
Yesterday was quite a day. I was on my way to do a singing telegram. There was no locale to change in, so I did so in a coffee shop. I was dressed as a cake, and it was a little rainy outside. Kids walked past me and yelled, "Hey, I want a piece of cake."
Another said, "I want a bite." Note, these were young whippersnappers.
Then I hear, "APRIL BRUCKER!"
Anyway, I was down the street from the locale when I saw my friend Evan Williams. Evan is a comedian who performs with me from time to time. Anyway, Evan is a funny dude from North Carolina. Like me, he speaks with a bit of a twang. With him he had another comedian friend whom I did a show with once. Evan mentioned he was house manager for a sober living facility down the street and was coming from work. Wit him was this other friend who was going to walk dogs. We chatted for a bit, caught off, and the three of us were on our way. It was a nifty little spring God shot on a Monday.
I got to the place where I was to deliver, and changed my shoes in the doorway. I was greeted by a very sweet but very suspicious young man. He asked me what I was doing there. I mentioned I didnt live there and he ordered me to leave. I took a deep breath. I explained why I was there and he asked if I had a name. I explained what was going on. The young man dropped his defense and apologized. I explained it was no big deal, it was New York. You could never be too careful.
A second later my contact Sierra came. She explained it was a Sober House, and I had just been greeted by a resident. No wonder the young man was so defensive. In an environment like that, many have just relapsed or have come home from treatment. Also, it was mostly young men. So yeah, didn't quite belong.
As she mentioned that it was a sober living facility I asked, "Do you know my friend Evan? I think he works here."
"Yeah Evan. How do you know Evan?"
"Oh, we perform comedy together. I just saw him on my way here." I explained.
Sierra was like, "No shit! What a small world."
"Yup."
Did the telegram and all went well. It was kind of crazy in a good way. It was a gentle reminder that the world was not as big, bad and vicious as I thought it was. Rather it was small and could be a kind place too. And in some way, we are all connected.
So yeah, how are you connected to Evan Williams?
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.
Another said, "I want a bite." Note, these were young whippersnappers.
Then I hear, "APRIL BRUCKER!"
Anyway, I was down the street from the locale when I saw my friend Evan Williams. Evan is a comedian who performs with me from time to time. Anyway, Evan is a funny dude from North Carolina. Like me, he speaks with a bit of a twang. With him he had another comedian friend whom I did a show with once. Evan mentioned he was house manager for a sober living facility down the street and was coming from work. Wit him was this other friend who was going to walk dogs. We chatted for a bit, caught off, and the three of us were on our way. It was a nifty little spring God shot on a Monday.
I got to the place where I was to deliver, and changed my shoes in the doorway. I was greeted by a very sweet but very suspicious young man. He asked me what I was doing there. I mentioned I didnt live there and he ordered me to leave. I took a deep breath. I explained why I was there and he asked if I had a name. I explained what was going on. The young man dropped his defense and apologized. I explained it was no big deal, it was New York. You could never be too careful.
A second later my contact Sierra came. She explained it was a Sober House, and I had just been greeted by a resident. No wonder the young man was so defensive. In an environment like that, many have just relapsed or have come home from treatment. Also, it was mostly young men. So yeah, didn't quite belong.
As she mentioned that it was a sober living facility I asked, "Do you know my friend Evan? I think he works here."
"Yeah Evan. How do you know Evan?"
"Oh, we perform comedy together. I just saw him on my way here." I explained.
Sierra was like, "No shit! What a small world."
"Yup."
Did the telegram and all went well. It was kind of crazy in a good way. It was a gentle reminder that the world was not as big, bad and vicious as I thought it was. Rather it was small and could be a kind place too. And in some way, we are all connected.
So yeah, how are you connected to Evan Williams?
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.
April 6, 2014
10 Things My Rocky Marathon Taught Me
If you have been following my posts, you know I have been having a shitty last few days. I am to the point where while things are looking like they might improve, I am scared to have hope. When I said things couldnt get an worse, they did. When I said things had to get better, they got worse. Right now, things are in neutral. No one has compromised my credit cards, I have some money to live on, and my rent is going to get paid. Bonus, a better group of people want the one project it looks like and I had an excellent interview with an internet sports network as a talking head.
But Saturday sucked royally. That's a different blog in general but why kvetch anymore?
So I got home ready to hit something after a rough week. And saw Rocky I-V was on Netflix. Here are ten things my little Rocky binge taught me.
1. I should have started as a lone shark. Not only would I be able to break legs, but Apollo Creed might take notice and give me a heavy weight fight.
2. Your true love is working at a pet store and has horrible fashion sense, but underneath is a vixen. I should know this in case I go gay.
3. Burgess Meredith is the best trainer ever.
4. Nobody talks smack better and then turns into a more perfect trainer than Apollo Creed.
5. Never fight Dolph Lungren in a costume with James Brown and dancing girls coming into the ring. He will kill you.....literally.
6. Apollo Creed's wife put up with a lot of shit.
7. Children in Philadelphia don't really go to school, do chores, or homework for that matter. They need their time free, because when Rocky runs, they have to go to the streets and run too.
8. Whenever Mr. T challenges you to a fight, the outcome will be, "Pain." I pity the fool.
9. Paulie is a bum. Give him a job or he'll get in trouble. Never let him handle your business or you will be back in the ghetto.
10. Tommy Morrison wasn't acting.
In all seriousness, whenever you have a victory, it isn't about you. Rocky's victory was for the entire city of Philly, and he showed people with hard work they could get out. He led people believe they were something. He took a chance. It makes me fight hard. It makes me keep taking hits even though I am not sure whether I am out of the darkness or not. It makes me want to fight until the last punch.
It makes me want to tell my enemies this is only the beginning. Even though my children and I are Netflix famous and broke as hell, we will be living in Beverly Hills, even if some of my redneck family members believe there is oil there.
It makes me want to tell some kid somewhere that this can happen for them to.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 w. 22nd st
But Saturday sucked royally. That's a different blog in general but why kvetch anymore?
So I got home ready to hit something after a rough week. And saw Rocky I-V was on Netflix. Here are ten things my little Rocky binge taught me.
1. I should have started as a lone shark. Not only would I be able to break legs, but Apollo Creed might take notice and give me a heavy weight fight.
2. Your true love is working at a pet store and has horrible fashion sense, but underneath is a vixen. I should know this in case I go gay.
3. Burgess Meredith is the best trainer ever.
4. Nobody talks smack better and then turns into a more perfect trainer than Apollo Creed.
5. Never fight Dolph Lungren in a costume with James Brown and dancing girls coming into the ring. He will kill you.....literally.
6. Apollo Creed's wife put up with a lot of shit.
7. Children in Philadelphia don't really go to school, do chores, or homework for that matter. They need their time free, because when Rocky runs, they have to go to the streets and run too.
8. Whenever Mr. T challenges you to a fight, the outcome will be, "Pain." I pity the fool.
9. Paulie is a bum. Give him a job or he'll get in trouble. Never let him handle your business or you will be back in the ghetto.
10. Tommy Morrison wasn't acting.
In all seriousness, whenever you have a victory, it isn't about you. Rocky's victory was for the entire city of Philly, and he showed people with hard work they could get out. He led people believe they were something. He took a chance. It makes me fight hard. It makes me keep taking hits even though I am not sure whether I am out of the darkness or not. It makes me want to fight until the last punch.
It makes me want to tell my enemies this is only the beginning. Even though my children and I are Netflix famous and broke as hell, we will be living in Beverly Hills, even if some of my redneck family members believe there is oil there.
It makes me want to tell some kid somewhere that this can happen for them to.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 w. 22nd st
April 4, 2014
The Passing Storm
This past week has been hellacious to say the least. Between money troubles, career uncertainty, shitty people harassing me and other shit I have to deal with, it has been a struggle. I would jump out the window but I might live. I would jump in front of a train but the thing might be local. I would stick my head in an oven but my oven is electric. You get the picture. In the words of Dorothy Parker, "You might as well live."
The cherry on top of the cake was a career disappointment. I wanted and needed this opportunity very badly. Fame has not alluded me. Money however has. This would have given me both. Despite my status as a reality star, I am broke. When my show was sold, I didn't get a dime. Actually, my show was sold many times. I am grateful for the exposure, the fans, and the people I have met. I am grateful fans know me on the street. I am grateful when someone tells me how they love my puppets.
I am hardly being greedy. Someone who bought my show owns an island, I don't own a bed and cannot afford a TV to watch myself. This opportunity would have brought me to the next level and would have given me some financial security. What infuriates me is that I came so close. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride.
There is nothing worse than having someone tell you how funny you were on television, and then having your rent check bounce. Or reading your fan mail and then wondering how to feed yourself. Or seeing a booker or show producer who fired you because they were jealous that they were never going to get your level of exposure using your picture to promote their shit. Let's not forget it being hard to find a more lucrative day job because employers have either seen you on TV or know you are going to leave, or customers recognize you and you become a distraction. And then it's, "Sorry, you're fired."
There was no tab for broke and famous. Granted, I know the money will come. I hate to sound like Scrooge, but it really sucks when you get paid shit and the man who owns the network drives away in a Beamer.
However, I have some other doors opening for me which are nice. A booker I work with has some children's puppet shows he wants to book me on. I want to do these, because I want to work with children. Also, I have a teaching artist job I just landed bringing puppetry to drug addicts and others in prisons and mental health facilities. Additionally, I just landed a job as a talking head on an internet sports startup. Oh, and I have a photo shoot for a Billboard. So things are starting to turn around.
Also, I have another opportunity in the works that is quite amazing with my puppets. No news there yet, but hoping to get some. So yeah, it is getting better. Just not as fast as I would like it to be. But yeah, the weather is getting warmer. Maybe my luck will continue to get brighter too.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W, 22nd st.
The cherry on top of the cake was a career disappointment. I wanted and needed this opportunity very badly. Fame has not alluded me. Money however has. This would have given me both. Despite my status as a reality star, I am broke. When my show was sold, I didn't get a dime. Actually, my show was sold many times. I am grateful for the exposure, the fans, and the people I have met. I am grateful fans know me on the street. I am grateful when someone tells me how they love my puppets.
I am hardly being greedy. Someone who bought my show owns an island, I don't own a bed and cannot afford a TV to watch myself. This opportunity would have brought me to the next level and would have given me some financial security. What infuriates me is that I came so close. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride.
There is nothing worse than having someone tell you how funny you were on television, and then having your rent check bounce. Or reading your fan mail and then wondering how to feed yourself. Or seeing a booker or show producer who fired you because they were jealous that they were never going to get your level of exposure using your picture to promote their shit. Let's not forget it being hard to find a more lucrative day job because employers have either seen you on TV or know you are going to leave, or customers recognize you and you become a distraction. And then it's, "Sorry, you're fired."
There was no tab for broke and famous. Granted, I know the money will come. I hate to sound like Scrooge, but it really sucks when you get paid shit and the man who owns the network drives away in a Beamer.
However, I have some other doors opening for me which are nice. A booker I work with has some children's puppet shows he wants to book me on. I want to do these, because I want to work with children. Also, I have a teaching artist job I just landed bringing puppetry to drug addicts and others in prisons and mental health facilities. Additionally, I just landed a job as a talking head on an internet sports startup. Oh, and I have a photo shoot for a Billboard. So things are starting to turn around.
Also, I have another opportunity in the works that is quite amazing with my puppets. No news there yet, but hoping to get some. So yeah, it is getting better. Just not as fast as I would like it to be. But yeah, the weather is getting warmer. Maybe my luck will continue to get brighter too.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W, 22nd st.
April 3, 2014
Fear, Loathing, and Disgust
Yeah, it has been a shitty run this week. Let's see where to start. I am having people attack me left and right. I think the whole thing has been instigated by someone who has had beef with me for sometime. I hate this young woman with a passion. Yeah, if she died in some horrible manner I wouldn't be totally sad. She is sick, and is telling lies about me and is getting other people to gang up on me. Oh and she called me and hung up 16 times. Really sweetie. Get a life, bitch.
Then work has been crazy. It was slow but is starting to pick up. Last month I made my rent, no problem. Money left over. This month has been more of a struggle. Luckily I had some money left over. But I hate sweating about money problems. No wonder people flip out over being broke. It fucking sucks. To make matters worse, one of my credit cards has been compromised. They sent me a new one, but the new one didn't work. So I have been living off the other one which is almost maxed out. Yeah. AWESOME!!! And the cherry on the cake is, I have no money in the bank currently until I get paid.
I kept telling myself this would pass except I found out yesterday I was passed over for a huge opportunity. It is something I wore a captain's jacket on, and something I kind of had a command seat on, too. We were so close to getting it. The feedback was so positive. It could have been WONDERFUL for all of us.
And then God said, "HA!"
So yeah. Life kind of sucks over here. I would wish cancer on this bitch but that would be too good for her. More like a flesh eating virus no one has seen, and only Dr. House can diagnose. But Dr. House is fictional. I am sick and tired of her. It has been almost three years and she lies about me, and now is sending other people to start with me. Seriously, she can have my sexually disappointing ex. They can all talk about me. They have a good subject. God help her if she sees me on the street. I don't even care anymore.
As for my money struggles, I might be forced to take another side job for a weekend or two that is fast money. Relax, it's legal. If it were illegal it would pay higher. If someone recognizes me from TV while there I might jump into traffic. I really hope other work picks up. It's not that I am too good for this. Fuck it. Actually I am. Once you have had a taste of fame and exposure, it is really tough to go back to doing shit and shoveling shit. I really don't want to do it. I just can't. The new credit card is supposed to come and I am supposed to get paid soon.
After that I got a call that I got passed on for a HUGE grant for a project I was doing. They called me to say they were pulling my application and apparently I had forgotten something they didn't even list in the instructions. I just wanted to tell them I wished them a slow and painful death. They should have just trashed my application. Or maybe I should have invited them over for the shit show called my life. I already want to walk into traffic. I figured it couldn't get any worse, right?
WRONG!!!!!!!!! IT JUST DID, BITCHES.
And then as for this opportunity, this just plain sucks the big one. This has been a large part of my life since last summer. Please don't try to comfort me. Most everyone who has reached out has been lovely but they haven't done shit. And then there are those who are allergic to achievement who don't realize how badly this royally fucking stings and say stupid shit. They don't realize that this compiled with everything else makes me want to stick my head in my oven. But then I realize it is electric so that option is out.
I would kill myself but I might live. And if you kill yourself there is no way things can get better.
I would buy a rifle and just take out the people I hate. But I am too broke to buy a gun and frankly, I don't know if I would do well in prison. While I would get the Masters Degree my mom has been pressuring me to have, I hear the food really sucks and frankly no one is worth a felony charge.
So I might as well deal. It sucks but I might as well deal. I know the wench and her minions will never be me, and the only way they can even get close to where I have been is turning on the TV. I know the money troubles will be over before I know it, and this is a new month. I know there will be other opportunities. Hell, the casting director of another opportunity liked my angry status update and said we were best friends. Basically I said life was fucking me like an AIDS hooker up the ass without a condom and if anyone wanted to help me they could jump off a bridge. Then I ended with "fuck you all and goodnight."
This morning Joel Osteen said not to get impatient when things didn't happen on our timeline. I wanted to curse him out but then realized he was right. I just need something good to happen now. I am at the end of my Goddamn rope. I keep saying things can't get worse but they do every hour.
So I guess the weather is warm. Maybe it is getting better and I don't know it. They say this too shall pass. Well pass damnit and stop being such a fucktard, universe, fate, whatever you are.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W, 22nd st.
Then work has been crazy. It was slow but is starting to pick up. Last month I made my rent, no problem. Money left over. This month has been more of a struggle. Luckily I had some money left over. But I hate sweating about money problems. No wonder people flip out over being broke. It fucking sucks. To make matters worse, one of my credit cards has been compromised. They sent me a new one, but the new one didn't work. So I have been living off the other one which is almost maxed out. Yeah. AWESOME!!! And the cherry on the cake is, I have no money in the bank currently until I get paid.
I kept telling myself this would pass except I found out yesterday I was passed over for a huge opportunity. It is something I wore a captain's jacket on, and something I kind of had a command seat on, too. We were so close to getting it. The feedback was so positive. It could have been WONDERFUL for all of us.
And then God said, "HA!"
So yeah. Life kind of sucks over here. I would wish cancer on this bitch but that would be too good for her. More like a flesh eating virus no one has seen, and only Dr. House can diagnose. But Dr. House is fictional. I am sick and tired of her. It has been almost three years and she lies about me, and now is sending other people to start with me. Seriously, she can have my sexually disappointing ex. They can all talk about me. They have a good subject. God help her if she sees me on the street. I don't even care anymore.
As for my money struggles, I might be forced to take another side job for a weekend or two that is fast money. Relax, it's legal. If it were illegal it would pay higher. If someone recognizes me from TV while there I might jump into traffic. I really hope other work picks up. It's not that I am too good for this. Fuck it. Actually I am. Once you have had a taste of fame and exposure, it is really tough to go back to doing shit and shoveling shit. I really don't want to do it. I just can't. The new credit card is supposed to come and I am supposed to get paid soon.
After that I got a call that I got passed on for a HUGE grant for a project I was doing. They called me to say they were pulling my application and apparently I had forgotten something they didn't even list in the instructions. I just wanted to tell them I wished them a slow and painful death. They should have just trashed my application. Or maybe I should have invited them over for the shit show called my life. I already want to walk into traffic. I figured it couldn't get any worse, right?
WRONG!!!!!!!!! IT JUST DID, BITCHES.
And then as for this opportunity, this just plain sucks the big one. This has been a large part of my life since last summer. Please don't try to comfort me. Most everyone who has reached out has been lovely but they haven't done shit. And then there are those who are allergic to achievement who don't realize how badly this royally fucking stings and say stupid shit. They don't realize that this compiled with everything else makes me want to stick my head in my oven. But then I realize it is electric so that option is out.
I would kill myself but I might live. And if you kill yourself there is no way things can get better.
I would buy a rifle and just take out the people I hate. But I am too broke to buy a gun and frankly, I don't know if I would do well in prison. While I would get the Masters Degree my mom has been pressuring me to have, I hear the food really sucks and frankly no one is worth a felony charge.
So I might as well deal. It sucks but I might as well deal. I know the wench and her minions will never be me, and the only way they can even get close to where I have been is turning on the TV. I know the money troubles will be over before I know it, and this is a new month. I know there will be other opportunities. Hell, the casting director of another opportunity liked my angry status update and said we were best friends. Basically I said life was fucking me like an AIDS hooker up the ass without a condom and if anyone wanted to help me they could jump off a bridge. Then I ended with "fuck you all and goodnight."
This morning Joel Osteen said not to get impatient when things didn't happen on our timeline. I wanted to curse him out but then realized he was right. I just need something good to happen now. I am at the end of my Goddamn rope. I keep saying things can't get worse but they do every hour.
So I guess the weather is warm. Maybe it is getting better and I don't know it. They say this too shall pass. Well pass damnit and stop being such a fucktard, universe, fate, whatever you are.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W, 22nd st.
April 1, 2014
Blue Angel (Roy Orbison)
If it is one thing guys are passionate about, it is cars. Even before they learn to drive them. In school, there was always a group of young dudes sketching cars on the front of their binders. Or they were racing motocross and other things that went, “Rum! Rum!” I suppose it’s a man thing. Hell, I never understood it. Actually it is a man thing. But it’s not entirely bad. When I was around that school age, my Aunt Diane’s dad, aka Mr. Z remodeled old cars. Whenever we went to their farm, he would take us around in them. One was a Model T he was especially proud of. We would all look forward to the ride, and it usually occurred after we took a swim in the pool. The Model T was fun. Not only because he had restored it, but also because it was a piece of history. Mr. Z was a lively man with a good sense of humor too, which made the ride even more memorable. He passed away several years ago, but every time I see a classic car, I know his spirit is not far away.I do love classic cars though, not just because of Mr. Z. Also partly because guys who restored them used to have 50’s throwback events where they showed them off. During these get togethers, oldies would play and their redone classics would sit side by side. Occurring in the hot Western Pennsylvania summer, it was a homage to a lost time and to manhood. It was a throwback to an era where it wasn’t perfect, but men weren’t afraid to get cut and scraped on cars. They weren’t afraid to wear oil on themselves after fixing their motor. Now they want to talk about their feelings. YUCK! I can’t take that for the record.Usually they would meet in the parking lot of Lola’s Ice. They would slurp down their Italian Ices with Elvis or Roy Orbison at full blast. I always would see these gatherings as an employee of Flying Robin Supermarket. You see, there are two kinds of employees at a supermarket. Those who run an errand and return, and those who run and errand and disappear. I always returned. You see, this is more rare than you might think that one would return. Yeah, Go Backs aka taking back merchandise that isn’t bought kills time. However, you are at work. Still, some of my coworkers didn’t understand this. I did which meant I was sent to do errands. Once I went to get the women in floral pizza, and saw these old car get togethers. Some of the young, car obsessed dudes I went to school with were there with fathers, uncles, and grandpas showing auto obsession went back several generations. We weren’t close or anything. So I didn’t say hi. Another time I got to run into the throw back auto show was when the folks in video sent me to get them to Lola’s on a hot summer day. It took me longer than anticipated. Still, I got the ices and they were nice enough to split one with me. (Better than the women in floral).Anyway, one of the car obsessed lads, a kid by the name of Wilson McDonald, was with his grandpa. “Hey April.” He said.“Hi Wilson.” I replied in my awkwardness. I walked away. Wilson’s older relative asked, “You know her?”“Yeah, she writes death poems and wears too much makeup. But she’s real smart. She looked better than usual tonight.” Wilson replied. Thanks, I guess. I didn’t learn to appreciate cars until two summers later, though. At the time, I was working as a lifeguard and always walked home. Pittsburgh is an industrial city, so we have a lot of stretches where to cross the street means to tempt death. The safest cross was a place called Billy’s Hoagies. It was a stoner hang out where all the car obsessed dudes used to chill. They would park their cars that drove low to the ground, eat rainbow meat aka meat on it’s last leg, and smoke their cigarettes. Across the street was a car lot. Usually, the mechanics would be outside smoking. Because I would walk past so frequently, I made friends with many of the stoners and mechanics. Some of the guys were single. Others had girlfriends. Their gal pals were usually either really skinny or really well endowed. These girls wore heavy makeup, and usually cracked bubble gum. I remember one dude was dating this beautician who used to wear the pants in the relationship. The guys used to tease the hell out of him, too. It was pretty funny, actually. One day, we were all hanging at the car lot. The mechanics were smoking their cigarettes, and shooting the breeze. All of a sudden, the one dude Mike said, “Man, that woman’s breaks need work. You know, the one driving in the sedan.” Mike had his ex’s name tattooed on his arm. He got it at eighteen and regretted it soon after their six month romance ended.“Yeah, and she’s driving with two feet. So it’s probably going to hit her hard before she even notices.” Bobby said. Yeah, Bobby, the heart throb of the lot. The one who always had some woman trouble that ended in him nearly being shot or stabbed. The two continued to smoke their Marlboro Reds as the next few cars drove by. “Man, his tail pipe is going to do him in.” Bobby observed. “How many miles do you think he can go?”“Maybe five before the thing blows.” Mike said.I stood silent, just observing this whole thing. The next car came by. Mike observed, “Engine issues.” He remarked. “How do you guys know all this? I mean, they are just driving by?” I finally asked. “We work on cars all day every day. We know what’s wrong with someone’s car and driving when they pull into the lot.” Mike explained. “You see, when you do something all the time for a long time, you get kind of good at it.”“Led foot. Buick. Must have had a bad day at work.” Bobby observed as we were talking. From that moment onward, I had a whole new respect for men who loved cars and mechanics in general. Maybe these guys weren’t going to Brown or NYU like my siblings and myself, but they were bright in a way we would never be. I was getting schooled in a way I never dreamed. If the world only thought of them as simple mechanics who worked on cars, they were gravely mistaken. Now I live in a city where people don’t really drive let alone own cars. However, in the outer boroughs it is different. I have gone through parts of Brooklyn where I see some of the Italian dudes really do work on their cars. However, nothing compares to the Spanish dudes. They even name their cars. The body work is amazing and the sound system is pimp. Whenever I walk through Brooklyn, Queens, or the Bronx and see this, my heart melts.It makes me think of Mr. Z and the Model T he redid and the spins we took in it. I also remember the classic cars and the oldies blasting in the parking lot. And then I think of my mechanic friends, rating other people’s driving. Spring is coming and the weather is getting warm. The dudes and the cars are beginning to emerge from hiding. I want one to take me for a spin in his fancy car that he worked so hard on.
I am not asking for a boyfriend. I am not asking for a husband. I am just asking for a ride in your car, Goddamnit.
Love,
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
I am not asking for a boyfriend. I am not asking for a husband. I am just asking for a ride in your car, Goddamnit.
Love,
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
March 31, 2014
Junior High Is Over
Yesterday I found myself involved in some drama. I won't get into details. The whole thing was bizarre, unnneeded and completely started by the other party involved. I have a feeling there is more to it than what was on the surface. Actually, there is. I have a theory behind what happened yesterday, and it involves another problem child but I don't even feel like mentioning her name or likeness further. Truthfully, this young woman is a shit starter and shit stirrer to the n-th degree.
My buddy called me yesterday because he felt he had played a role in starting it because he felt something he said triggered the Moron Squad. I told him he didn't. He read me the thread where the blocked party bitched about the fact I blocked them. Yeah, I blocked them. This moron and their posse would have fought with me online all night. Plus I had people who wanted to follow me that would have been less trouble. Oh, and I just didn't want to deal with her. I don't see her and have never met her in real life. So yeah, after feeling like an ass clown wasting an hour of my time on this shit, time I could have used for other things, I blocked her.
Apparently she was pissed I blocked her and started several threads talking about me. For someone who insisted that I didn't matter, they dedicated almost four threads to me with almost thirty comments and even plugged by DVD taping. My buddy offered to keep me posted because it was funny. Finally I told him I didn't want to know anymore. He asked if I was sure. I replied again, "I don't want to know anymore."
There was nothing to be gained. She has not posted a recent photo of herself. The last pictures she puts up are from her high school glamour shot days. I have three pages, one which is almost always maxed out. She has one. Nothing is gained from fighting with her. As a matter of fact, I feel stupider for having participated as long as I did. These people have not gotten the success I have, and am going no where near where I am going. Instead, they will always be where they are. So what is gained by this? NOTHING! So yeah, be pissed I blocked you. At least someone was the adult here, even if it wasn't her old ass.
Yes, I am an adult. We live in a generation where people can be mentally handicapped in a whole new way with the internet. It gives a lot of people balls and buns of steel. In person, they can't look you in the eye afterwards. It makes them unaccountable for their actions. "It was on the computer. It was an internet fight. You should take it better."
No, read what you typed. You are an idiot who showed me you are not only petty but have an IQ of a turnip. We are done here now and forever. No, I will not appear on your podcast or radio show now that you told everyone I sucked dick for that spot there. So continue to get behind the keyboard, and engage in your retarded feats of strength like Lenny in Mice of Men.
During this drama filled wasted hour of my life, I had a stranger who was a moron and wanted to latch on to the fight remind me of a time in my life I would rather forget. Apparently another shit stirrer messaged him to inform him of all the mistakes I made in my past. So now this particular loser is not only wasting his time, but now got involved in a fight that wasn't his. As a bonus, he has now made a whole new enemy. For that, he gets to be line leader on the short bus.
Truth is, he would have to strain his neck to look at where I am like the rest of them. I felt like informing him that the closest he will ever get to my success is watching me on TV. But he isn't worth it. His life already sucks. He's a road hack. God already hates him.
Yeah, the fact I am doing well is too much for some people. There are those who don't feel I deserve it because of the way I have supposedly gotten my breaks. There are others who feel I don't have the talent and am simply a so called cute girl. And there are those who won't let me live a rough part of my life down. Yes, the assweeds with no dimension whatsoever. Once again, better than them then and still am. But that's about them and not me. Still I must ask, how old are we again?
The whole experience left me worn out and tired. I am not a fan of drama unless it is on TV. I am not a fan of people who create it in real life. They make me run like I saw Godzilla. Most of the time they are nobody's who are no where. It's because this consumes their time and therefore they can't do anything else. Plus why work on your own shit when you can go stir someone else's? Or why be successful when you can needle someone who is on their way to that place? Why hang with the winners when you can be a loser talking about everyone else? Why see your role in anything? Oh that means being an adult. NEVERMIND.
I remember a woman named Sandra Bowie gave me this piece of advice. She taught and worked in the Drama Department at NYU and had once been head of the Theatre Program at Howard University at one time. When I was a nineteen year old basketcase she gave me this advice, "If you expend all your energy in life, when you get to the stage you will be very, very tired." And this is why these people are no where, they are tired. They are too tired to focus and too tired to perform because their time and energy is wasted starting meshuggah.
It reminds me of junior high, when the intrigue was in the hallway in between classes. When everything took place with note passing and nasty rumors. Oh, and let's not forget the nasty things written about others on the bathroom walls and gym lockers. This was all done faceless and anonymous, and that way cowardice could reign. Why take responsibility for one's actions? My baby cousins are at that point in their lives now. However, they are starting to grow out of it. They are 12 and 13, and are learning to own up to their part in things. These adults, not so much. Never got that memo.
I know I am running my own race, and what is mine will be mine. Additionally, I know not to start things with people and to mind my own business. When I go to a club, I go to make others laugh. Not to gossip by the bar about who slept with who for what spot. When I write for the Huffington Post, I write my column. However, I don't argue with some people just want to hear themselves speak when they comment. When I book a TV show or play, I know my lines ahead of time, take direction, and hit my marks best I can. I know there is money at stake and I am there to work. As I approach my DVD taping, I am plugging the event every chance I get and polishing my act to give my best show. Will it be my best DVD? Not sure but it will be my first and I am willing to learn, cry, and grow.
Unfortunately, some people aren't. I could feel anger but don't. Instead, I feel a sense of overwhelming sadness and pity. In the words of my friend Chacho Vasquez, "The thing about the past is when you pass people over. When you look back, they are right where you left them doing the same shit and wearing the same bad clothes."
I have known these idiots for years. They are still doing the same crap and bad jokes they were then. It's because they don't know class is dismissed and junior high is over. They are afraid to grow.
Life outside of junior high is peaceful, lower drama, and fun. I hope someday they get to experience it.
Love,
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
My buddy called me yesterday because he felt he had played a role in starting it because he felt something he said triggered the Moron Squad. I told him he didn't. He read me the thread where the blocked party bitched about the fact I blocked them. Yeah, I blocked them. This moron and their posse would have fought with me online all night. Plus I had people who wanted to follow me that would have been less trouble. Oh, and I just didn't want to deal with her. I don't see her and have never met her in real life. So yeah, after feeling like an ass clown wasting an hour of my time on this shit, time I could have used for other things, I blocked her.
Apparently she was pissed I blocked her and started several threads talking about me. For someone who insisted that I didn't matter, they dedicated almost four threads to me with almost thirty comments and even plugged by DVD taping. My buddy offered to keep me posted because it was funny. Finally I told him I didn't want to know anymore. He asked if I was sure. I replied again, "I don't want to know anymore."
There was nothing to be gained. She has not posted a recent photo of herself. The last pictures she puts up are from her high school glamour shot days. I have three pages, one which is almost always maxed out. She has one. Nothing is gained from fighting with her. As a matter of fact, I feel stupider for having participated as long as I did. These people have not gotten the success I have, and am going no where near where I am going. Instead, they will always be where they are. So what is gained by this? NOTHING! So yeah, be pissed I blocked you. At least someone was the adult here, even if it wasn't her old ass.
Yes, I am an adult. We live in a generation where people can be mentally handicapped in a whole new way with the internet. It gives a lot of people balls and buns of steel. In person, they can't look you in the eye afterwards. It makes them unaccountable for their actions. "It was on the computer. It was an internet fight. You should take it better."
No, read what you typed. You are an idiot who showed me you are not only petty but have an IQ of a turnip. We are done here now and forever. No, I will not appear on your podcast or radio show now that you told everyone I sucked dick for that spot there. So continue to get behind the keyboard, and engage in your retarded feats of strength like Lenny in Mice of Men.
During this drama filled wasted hour of my life, I had a stranger who was a moron and wanted to latch on to the fight remind me of a time in my life I would rather forget. Apparently another shit stirrer messaged him to inform him of all the mistakes I made in my past. So now this particular loser is not only wasting his time, but now got involved in a fight that wasn't his. As a bonus, he has now made a whole new enemy. For that, he gets to be line leader on the short bus.
Truth is, he would have to strain his neck to look at where I am like the rest of them. I felt like informing him that the closest he will ever get to my success is watching me on TV. But he isn't worth it. His life already sucks. He's a road hack. God already hates him.
Yeah, the fact I am doing well is too much for some people. There are those who don't feel I deserve it because of the way I have supposedly gotten my breaks. There are others who feel I don't have the talent and am simply a so called cute girl. And there are those who won't let me live a rough part of my life down. Yes, the assweeds with no dimension whatsoever. Once again, better than them then and still am. But that's about them and not me. Still I must ask, how old are we again?
The whole experience left me worn out and tired. I am not a fan of drama unless it is on TV. I am not a fan of people who create it in real life. They make me run like I saw Godzilla. Most of the time they are nobody's who are no where. It's because this consumes their time and therefore they can't do anything else. Plus why work on your own shit when you can go stir someone else's? Or why be successful when you can needle someone who is on their way to that place? Why hang with the winners when you can be a loser talking about everyone else? Why see your role in anything? Oh that means being an adult. NEVERMIND.
I remember a woman named Sandra Bowie gave me this piece of advice. She taught and worked in the Drama Department at NYU and had once been head of the Theatre Program at Howard University at one time. When I was a nineteen year old basketcase she gave me this advice, "If you expend all your energy in life, when you get to the stage you will be very, very tired." And this is why these people are no where, they are tired. They are too tired to focus and too tired to perform because their time and energy is wasted starting meshuggah.
It reminds me of junior high, when the intrigue was in the hallway in between classes. When everything took place with note passing and nasty rumors. Oh, and let's not forget the nasty things written about others on the bathroom walls and gym lockers. This was all done faceless and anonymous, and that way cowardice could reign. Why take responsibility for one's actions? My baby cousins are at that point in their lives now. However, they are starting to grow out of it. They are 12 and 13, and are learning to own up to their part in things. These adults, not so much. Never got that memo.
I know I am running my own race, and what is mine will be mine. Additionally, I know not to start things with people and to mind my own business. When I go to a club, I go to make others laugh. Not to gossip by the bar about who slept with who for what spot. When I write for the Huffington Post, I write my column. However, I don't argue with some people just want to hear themselves speak when they comment. When I book a TV show or play, I know my lines ahead of time, take direction, and hit my marks best I can. I know there is money at stake and I am there to work. As I approach my DVD taping, I am plugging the event every chance I get and polishing my act to give my best show. Will it be my best DVD? Not sure but it will be my first and I am willing to learn, cry, and grow.
Unfortunately, some people aren't. I could feel anger but don't. Instead, I feel a sense of overwhelming sadness and pity. In the words of my friend Chacho Vasquez, "The thing about the past is when you pass people over. When you look back, they are right where you left them doing the same shit and wearing the same bad clothes."
I have known these idiots for years. They are still doing the same crap and bad jokes they were then. It's because they don't know class is dismissed and junior high is over. They are afraid to grow.
Life outside of junior high is peaceful, lower drama, and fun. I hope someday they get to experience it.
Love,
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
March 30, 2014
A Blog About (Hot) Dudeskis
It is kinda starting to get warmer outside. So that means I am doing some guy watching. There are these guys who play basketball in the court across the street from me. They are all ages. Sometimes they are teenagers but look kind of old. Other times they obvious grown men. And sometimes it's an all ages game.
The hot boys are coming out and they are on the court. I mean, these boys is fine yo. The other day, it was the first warm day in like forever. So these guys wanting to strut their machoness and manhood were playing shirtless. They were yum like Betty Crocker. The youngest was like nineteen and the oldest was I don't know how old. But they all looked fantastic. The entire time I watched by the side of the court like a weird stalker. What can I say, it had been a long winter and they were making me sweat along with them.
However, when I say the entire time I meant five minutes. I felt creepy and pathetic, like I was throwing my feminist ideals out the window. I thought if I made eye contact one would wave. But I didn't. Instead, the angry feminist returned and she yelled at me in my head. There was a world to conquer and these men had a basketball game to win. They can win their game, and I can conquer the world and make them my concubines.
JUST KIDDING.
Anyway, my Mema Ralph aka my dad's mom always said that I needed a nice Catholic boy.She said not just to ask God for a husband, but for the right one. So there was this hottie in church the other Sunday. He was coming in as I was coming out. I was in my cute little dress and tried to flash him a smile. No such luck. I tried again. Then I saw he was with his grandmother and what looked to be a brother. He was so not into me. God had not answered my prayers on that Johnny Angel.
Then this Sunday I went back to see if I could snag me the same hottie but he did not materialize. Instead another one who gave me the diss. One that I was not into was totally into me. Then I heard God say, "My house is not a pick up joint."
And I said, "God, you are no fun."
So I left church, ran down the stairs, and fell on my ass.
God had the last laugh.
Love,
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
The hot boys are coming out and they are on the court. I mean, these boys is fine yo. The other day, it was the first warm day in like forever. So these guys wanting to strut their machoness and manhood were playing shirtless. They were yum like Betty Crocker. The youngest was like nineteen and the oldest was I don't know how old. But they all looked fantastic. The entire time I watched by the side of the court like a weird stalker. What can I say, it had been a long winter and they were making me sweat along with them.
However, when I say the entire time I meant five minutes. I felt creepy and pathetic, like I was throwing my feminist ideals out the window. I thought if I made eye contact one would wave. But I didn't. Instead, the angry feminist returned and she yelled at me in my head. There was a world to conquer and these men had a basketball game to win. They can win their game, and I can conquer the world and make them my concubines.
JUST KIDDING.
Anyway, my Mema Ralph aka my dad's mom always said that I needed a nice Catholic boy.She said not just to ask God for a husband, but for the right one. So there was this hottie in church the other Sunday. He was coming in as I was coming out. I was in my cute little dress and tried to flash him a smile. No such luck. I tried again. Then I saw he was with his grandmother and what looked to be a brother. He was so not into me. God had not answered my prayers on that Johnny Angel.
Then this Sunday I went back to see if I could snag me the same hottie but he did not materialize. Instead another one who gave me the diss. One that I was not into was totally into me. Then I heard God say, "My house is not a pick up joint."
And I said, "God, you are no fun."
So I left church, ran down the stairs, and fell on my ass.
God had the last laugh.
Love,
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
March 29, 2014
Thanks, Mr. President
Dear Mr. Obama,
My name is April Brucker. I am a performer and writer living in NYC. For some time my health insurance situation has been quite insecure and causing me some anxiety. Throughout my childhood and early adult years, I have been blessed to be on my parent's policy. However, when I reached a certain age they had to drop me. This left me afraid that if something were to happen to me, I wouldn't be protected.
My mother was worried about my insurance situation and so was I. She pointed out that if something happened to me, my parents would have to dig into their 401K in order to help me. Whether it was a car accident or cancer treatment, this would leave them destitute. I didn't want this, especially since my parents had worked their entire lives and deserved a solid retirement. I needed healthcare and didn't know what to do.
The deadline was looming, and I had tried the website before when it crashed. I was divided on whether I thought Universal Healthcare was a good idea. This was because of the negative feedback I heard, but also because the website kept crashing. However, when the kinks were worked out I went back on. Not only was I able to enroll, but it was relatively painless. Yes, it took me two hours. It was no fault of yours or the websites but rather I wanted to be thorough in my answering of the questions and wanted to pick a plan that was best for me. I knew that this was an important assignment, and one that could be life or death if I made the wrong decision. However, the choices were available to me in a way they never were. This was not only calming my fears but rather a gift from the highest office in the land.
The plan I picked covers emergency room visits, doctor's visits, second opinions, chemo, lab work, prescriptions, gyno issues, and oral surgery if I would need it. While I do not have eye and dental at the moment, I can upgrade once my financial situation changes. (Knock on wood).
Because of your hard work and belief in the people, I now have health care. I feel safe, protected, secure and care for. If I get sick I will not be abandoned. My parents will not have to dip into their retirement if something should happen to me. I will not be denied care for fear of nonpayment. Universal Healthcare has not only made me more insured than I have ever been, but lets me continue to follow my dreams knowing I am insured.
Because of you, and the fact you continued to fight even when people struck you down, my mother can sleep better at night. She can know that I have access to quality care and that the president she voted for twice made that happen. I am giving her a copy of my healthcare cards in case something should happen to me. It was her idea not mine. Once a mom always a mom. However, she is relieved and told me to find a network of doctors in my plan in case anything should happen to me. Before this was just a dream, now it is a reality.
I have voted for you not once but twice. I met some of your campaign people when I appeared on Good Day NY. Right away I was struck by now nice they were. No one knew much about you then. They said you lacked the experience some of the other candidates had. However, you had more vision than any of them. As a result, gay people are becoming citizens with full fights in a country they pay taxes and work in. Stop and frisk policies towards minority young men are being struck down. Women's reproductive rights are being protected.
And most importantly, you are making sure that everyone, rich, middle class and poor, have health care.
Despite your critics, American history will be kind to you. I am a proud Democrat, and can say the man I voted for truly does care about the people he governs.
Thanks Mr. President!
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
My name is April Brucker. I am a performer and writer living in NYC. For some time my health insurance situation has been quite insecure and causing me some anxiety. Throughout my childhood and early adult years, I have been blessed to be on my parent's policy. However, when I reached a certain age they had to drop me. This left me afraid that if something were to happen to me, I wouldn't be protected.
My mother was worried about my insurance situation and so was I. She pointed out that if something happened to me, my parents would have to dig into their 401K in order to help me. Whether it was a car accident or cancer treatment, this would leave them destitute. I didn't want this, especially since my parents had worked their entire lives and deserved a solid retirement. I needed healthcare and didn't know what to do.
The deadline was looming, and I had tried the website before when it crashed. I was divided on whether I thought Universal Healthcare was a good idea. This was because of the negative feedback I heard, but also because the website kept crashing. However, when the kinks were worked out I went back on. Not only was I able to enroll, but it was relatively painless. Yes, it took me two hours. It was no fault of yours or the websites but rather I wanted to be thorough in my answering of the questions and wanted to pick a plan that was best for me. I knew that this was an important assignment, and one that could be life or death if I made the wrong decision. However, the choices were available to me in a way they never were. This was not only calming my fears but rather a gift from the highest office in the land.
The plan I picked covers emergency room visits, doctor's visits, second opinions, chemo, lab work, prescriptions, gyno issues, and oral surgery if I would need it. While I do not have eye and dental at the moment, I can upgrade once my financial situation changes. (Knock on wood).
Because of your hard work and belief in the people, I now have health care. I feel safe, protected, secure and care for. If I get sick I will not be abandoned. My parents will not have to dip into their retirement if something should happen to me. I will not be denied care for fear of nonpayment. Universal Healthcare has not only made me more insured than I have ever been, but lets me continue to follow my dreams knowing I am insured.
Because of you, and the fact you continued to fight even when people struck you down, my mother can sleep better at night. She can know that I have access to quality care and that the president she voted for twice made that happen. I am giving her a copy of my healthcare cards in case something should happen to me. It was her idea not mine. Once a mom always a mom. However, she is relieved and told me to find a network of doctors in my plan in case anything should happen to me. Before this was just a dream, now it is a reality.
I have voted for you not once but twice. I met some of your campaign people when I appeared on Good Day NY. Right away I was struck by now nice they were. No one knew much about you then. They said you lacked the experience some of the other candidates had. However, you had more vision than any of them. As a result, gay people are becoming citizens with full fights in a country they pay taxes and work in. Stop and frisk policies towards minority young men are being struck down. Women's reproductive rights are being protected.
And most importantly, you are making sure that everyone, rich, middle class and poor, have health care.
Despite your critics, American history will be kind to you. I am a proud Democrat, and can say the man I voted for truly does care about the people he governs.
Thanks Mr. President!
April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street
