April E. Brucker's Blog, page 46
August 15, 2013
The Importance of Friends
I have been going through some things lately. Aside from a busy schedule that is the bi-product of my dreams coming true (although I find myself falling asleep easily at night), there has been something else that has been bothering me. What I am talking about is the jealousy factor in this industry. When you start to see a little success the claws come out from those around you. Some of it is on a smaller scale. Some of it is on a drastic scale.
Lately I have been dealing with a psychotic female admirer. She has been the pebble in my shoe for years. Her name is Ms. Wannabe. I hate having to talk about her much less write about her. This woman has been nothing but a negative attention seeking pest. Actually I prefer the term bitch. Truth be told, she is only sober for about an hour a day if that. Without completely taking her inventory, it is an act of God that I haven't beaten her head in for as much as she has tormented me. I know I shouldn't take her personally. She is an alcoholic and drug addict who's life only gets worse as her boyfriend enables her. But it's kinda hard not to get pissed when she calls and hangs up all the damn time blocking her number.
Anyway enough about the skank.
I saw an old friend of mine yesterday from the comedy world. She hasn't been performing as much because she is going through a rough patch in her life. We talked about the mic world. My friend-who is quite funny-humbly stated that she hoped she would never become too grandiose for open mics. I joked that I have become too grandiose for mics. It is true, my ego is too big to pay five dollars a pop to follow my dream. Plus I have spent a small fortune paying for stage time. We talked about the downside of mics and how it was good to get stuff out but some mics had their own culture that was very anti-woman. However my friend pointed out that if one hated a mic, they had the option of finding another. It was not the end of the world.
I ended up pouring my heart out to my friend about how I felt shunned at mics once things started happening for me. And how it seemed suddenly I was the bad guy because so many of these people seemed allergic to achievement. My friend pointed out that when a person gets successful, it is not easy for everyone. I explained I had drifted away from mic land because I was busy doing other things like for a while I was producing web content. My buddy explained that again, my success would not be easy for some people. She said that there are people in this world who think things are handed to people. She explained while she knew I worked hard for my success, to some people it might seem it was just handed to me which is far from the truth.
I told her about how I had to deal with sexism and hate from all angles back in the day. My friend explained that those people don't see that, and they only see their own shit. And that their jealousy was more about them than myself. That I couldn't expect everything to be happy for me. Oh and she joked that from 1989-2002 she too was a hater. And as an ex hater she could attest that you don't know what someone else goes through to get where they are.My buddy was right. My former friends didn't see the blood, sweat, tears, and hard work.
Then I told my friend about the chick stalking me. About how my success is just too much for her. My friend pointed out that she has a drug problem and a boyfriend who enables her. She said, "You don't want her life, do you? Her life sounds terrible, April." I told her no. At that moment I felt sympathy for Ms. Wannabe. If anything she is a very sick woman who is crying for attention. As she openly brags about her drinking and drug use it is just a feeble cry for help from a troubled young woman. Then my friend pointed out, "There will always be haters, April."
I bid my friend goodbye and felt better. The night was spent with me sending emails about my book, interview questions to a writer friend of mine, and more emails about a pilot project I am a part of. Just then the phone rang. I got not one but three blocked calls from guess who? Ms. Wannabe, everyone's favorite professional victim. I ended up calling another friend of mine who is like a mom. Well she was with her young grandkids who were fighting and having a bad day. She snapped, "There is nothing I can do about it and I am sick of hearing about her." I stammered and my friend explained, "I am having a bad day too, April. Just ignore her. That is the best you can do!" And she slammed down the phone.
Why didn't my friend validate my bullshit and insight me to bash the head in of my hater? Then I realized it's what I needed to hear. I had to stop giving this real life version of a puss filled pimple attention. Since she has decided to start harassing me again, I have been on her facebook page more than I would like to be to see if I was in mortal danger. I have been on her blog lately to see if I was in danger as well or to see if she would make threats. Most of it has been annoying, whining statuses and second rate musings of an overgrown, petulant child. Of course she bitches and moans about me in many. Apparently I am delusional and have an overblown ego. As I wanted to jump through the computer screen and strangle her I realized my friend was right. Because this young woman was renting space in my head and I was on her social media (which is pitiful), I was being sucked into her world and giving her more energy than she deserved. Thus as she was becoming obsessed with me I was becoming obsessed with her.So once again I blocked her tuning her out, not feeding in.
The last thing I saw on her page was a disturbing video where it looked like she was nodding off. She was pale and looked possibly like she was shooting heroin or something. While she has been nothing but horrid to me, this makes me ill. Drug addiction, especially on women, is unforgiving. It is also a path that ultimately leads to death. I don't wish the yets she is about to encounter on anyone. The sad thing is, I understand more than anyone in the world what it is like to be alone in an abusive relationship and to feel so isolated. My first instinct is to reach out and help someone like that actually. Tell them the ex girlfriend is not worth going to jail over. I remember being that jealous and foaming at that mouth. Then I realize more than anything in the world this creature doesn't deserve my hate but my pity. She is sick, very sick. Hopefully she finds some sort of spirituality or else her mother may end up burying her. It's not over dramatic. It;s the reality of addiction.
Just then I got another blocked call on my phone. I remembered both my friends reminding me that there would always be hater and how I just had to ignore her. The phone rang and that was it. I also figured it was late anyway. I turned off my phone and turned in for the evening. Translated from middle school, she could talk to my hand cause the face don't give a damn. With that, I had a laugh about this woman who was obviously on a middle school level and had a good night.
Bottom line: A friend is someone who tells you how it is when you need to hear it. They also let you know that most of the time for as seriously as you take your shit, it ain't that serious.
LoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girlwww.aprilbrucker.com
Lately I have been dealing with a psychotic female admirer. She has been the pebble in my shoe for years. Her name is Ms. Wannabe. I hate having to talk about her much less write about her. This woman has been nothing but a negative attention seeking pest. Actually I prefer the term bitch. Truth be told, she is only sober for about an hour a day if that. Without completely taking her inventory, it is an act of God that I haven't beaten her head in for as much as she has tormented me. I know I shouldn't take her personally. She is an alcoholic and drug addict who's life only gets worse as her boyfriend enables her. But it's kinda hard not to get pissed when she calls and hangs up all the damn time blocking her number.
Anyway enough about the skank.
I saw an old friend of mine yesterday from the comedy world. She hasn't been performing as much because she is going through a rough patch in her life. We talked about the mic world. My friend-who is quite funny-humbly stated that she hoped she would never become too grandiose for open mics. I joked that I have become too grandiose for mics. It is true, my ego is too big to pay five dollars a pop to follow my dream. Plus I have spent a small fortune paying for stage time. We talked about the downside of mics and how it was good to get stuff out but some mics had their own culture that was very anti-woman. However my friend pointed out that if one hated a mic, they had the option of finding another. It was not the end of the world.
I ended up pouring my heart out to my friend about how I felt shunned at mics once things started happening for me. And how it seemed suddenly I was the bad guy because so many of these people seemed allergic to achievement. My friend pointed out that when a person gets successful, it is not easy for everyone. I explained I had drifted away from mic land because I was busy doing other things like for a while I was producing web content. My buddy explained that again, my success would not be easy for some people. She said that there are people in this world who think things are handed to people. She explained while she knew I worked hard for my success, to some people it might seem it was just handed to me which is far from the truth.
I told her about how I had to deal with sexism and hate from all angles back in the day. My friend explained that those people don't see that, and they only see their own shit. And that their jealousy was more about them than myself. That I couldn't expect everything to be happy for me. Oh and she joked that from 1989-2002 she too was a hater. And as an ex hater she could attest that you don't know what someone else goes through to get where they are.My buddy was right. My former friends didn't see the blood, sweat, tears, and hard work.
Then I told my friend about the chick stalking me. About how my success is just too much for her. My friend pointed out that she has a drug problem and a boyfriend who enables her. She said, "You don't want her life, do you? Her life sounds terrible, April." I told her no. At that moment I felt sympathy for Ms. Wannabe. If anything she is a very sick woman who is crying for attention. As she openly brags about her drinking and drug use it is just a feeble cry for help from a troubled young woman. Then my friend pointed out, "There will always be haters, April."
I bid my friend goodbye and felt better. The night was spent with me sending emails about my book, interview questions to a writer friend of mine, and more emails about a pilot project I am a part of. Just then the phone rang. I got not one but three blocked calls from guess who? Ms. Wannabe, everyone's favorite professional victim. I ended up calling another friend of mine who is like a mom. Well she was with her young grandkids who were fighting and having a bad day. She snapped, "There is nothing I can do about it and I am sick of hearing about her." I stammered and my friend explained, "I am having a bad day too, April. Just ignore her. That is the best you can do!" And she slammed down the phone.
Why didn't my friend validate my bullshit and insight me to bash the head in of my hater? Then I realized it's what I needed to hear. I had to stop giving this real life version of a puss filled pimple attention. Since she has decided to start harassing me again, I have been on her facebook page more than I would like to be to see if I was in mortal danger. I have been on her blog lately to see if I was in danger as well or to see if she would make threats. Most of it has been annoying, whining statuses and second rate musings of an overgrown, petulant child. Of course she bitches and moans about me in many. Apparently I am delusional and have an overblown ego. As I wanted to jump through the computer screen and strangle her I realized my friend was right. Because this young woman was renting space in my head and I was on her social media (which is pitiful), I was being sucked into her world and giving her more energy than she deserved. Thus as she was becoming obsessed with me I was becoming obsessed with her.So once again I blocked her tuning her out, not feeding in.
The last thing I saw on her page was a disturbing video where it looked like she was nodding off. She was pale and looked possibly like she was shooting heroin or something. While she has been nothing but horrid to me, this makes me ill. Drug addiction, especially on women, is unforgiving. It is also a path that ultimately leads to death. I don't wish the yets she is about to encounter on anyone. The sad thing is, I understand more than anyone in the world what it is like to be alone in an abusive relationship and to feel so isolated. My first instinct is to reach out and help someone like that actually. Tell them the ex girlfriend is not worth going to jail over. I remember being that jealous and foaming at that mouth. Then I realize more than anything in the world this creature doesn't deserve my hate but my pity. She is sick, very sick. Hopefully she finds some sort of spirituality or else her mother may end up burying her. It's not over dramatic. It;s the reality of addiction.
Just then I got another blocked call on my phone. I remembered both my friends reminding me that there would always be hater and how I just had to ignore her. The phone rang and that was it. I also figured it was late anyway. I turned off my phone and turned in for the evening. Translated from middle school, she could talk to my hand cause the face don't give a damn. With that, I had a laugh about this woman who was obviously on a middle school level and had a good night.
Bottom line: A friend is someone who tells you how it is when you need to hear it. They also let you know that most of the time for as seriously as you take your shit, it ain't that serious.
LoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girlwww.aprilbrucker.com
August 14, 2013
Living in Pause
The other day I was having a business convo about a project that turned into an all out text war. It began with me telling my partner Hondo that I was going to see a place we were possibly filming in. The locale is exclusive and it is a ton of money we don't have to get in. So I decided to go in through a back door way. It's not that kind of back door sickos, relax. Anyway, initially it is not what my boy wanted because he didn't want his people to pay a cover charge, but the space has been on TV numerous times. After posturing the other day at the diner, he finally gave in to this place as my backup plan.
So yesterday I went to see it. I messaged him beforehand inviting him. He said he had to work. Okay, whatever. Then he mentioned he might be able to get out to join me. At our previous meeting he stated that sometimes he believed this whole thing was becoming The April Show. I figured okay, you have stuff going on. I was just taking the lead, Hondo. Well Hondo asked what time I was going to leave and I told him soon. Then Hondo had the nerve to ask me to hold off. I am like the White Rabbit, early for everything. I hate being late. This drove me crazy.
Then my contact at the place emailed me to move the meeting. I texted Hondo. Could he come? It was later. That is when Hondo stated he could not come later, and began to tell me what to ask for. I am one of those people who doesn't like being ordered around. Needless to say, we were both in that mind frame where we both wanted to be right and we both wanted to win. Suddenly April the Business Woman went out the window and the little girl inside of me was screaming, "You're not the boss of me!" That is when we began to go at it via text. I started by disagreeing peacefully but I wanted to win and so did he. Now I was going for blood. There is some mechanism in me that likes to fight, especially with men.
Maybe it was the fact my dad and I butted heads so much growing up. It's not that it was that we were so different. We were so much alike. We are strongly opinionated and love the history channel. It was the way we bonded. But when we went at it, neither one of us would back down. Sometimes it is better to be happy than to be right, but damnit we both want to be right.Of course, my dad's whole immediate family is this way. We all joke it is best never to discuss politics at a Brucker Family Gathering. I will say though, the discussions my dad and I have are lively because we are both so impassioned, and my aunts and uncles, although we differ, are well informed.
I think while this dynamic works for my relationship with my dad, it doesn't work a well in the dating world. So perhaps this is why I gravitate towards hyper-masculine dudes with no brain, feelings, but tempers like hell fire. Don't worry though, I can handle myself. I used to say the same thing with the former fiance. Even when things got bad, I could handle myself. At least so I thought. But now I was butting heads again and had to win. That is when the emoticons came out and all hell broke loose.
Something tells me before this all began we were both a little stressed and perhaps woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I have been working like a Mexican, and have been so tired some days I wake up feeling like the room is spinning. Hondo is soon to get married so he is running around like an African from wedding appointment to wedding appointment. Usually, he doesn't mind when I slam dudes in my weekly blog but this week he felt the need to let me know my perception of men was "skewed." Did I mention my mother sent me the "Call me when you wake up" text. I love the woman but don't send me those unless there is a death in the family. I can't have a convo especially when I am McStressed and crazy. Nonetheless, it was only 11 when this began and I was already tired, angry, and wanting blood.
I began to end my sentences with a smiley face. When I start making my points and ending them with a smiley face it is my way of saying "Fuck you mutherfucker." And then one smiley face became two, became three, became four. Eventually I guess the fight came to a draw because Hondo did the adult thing and stopped responding. Of course this is after I accused him of having an overblown male ego and not pulling his weight. Of course I was fired up. HOW THE HELL COULD HE STOP RESPONDING WHEN I WAS ON FIRE! I hadn't even started calling, cussing, swearing, or typing in all caps yet.
That is when something in me said, "Put down the phone, April." So I decided to stop texting, shouted a shitload of profanities, and went for a walk.
I did and went for a walk. As I was fuming walking down the street I saw a friend of mine who works in a car lot. He noticed I looked like I was going to deck someone. I ended up telling him what happened. We agreed shit happened. And he told me to take some time, cool down, and talk to my buddy again. I thought about it, Hondo is like a brother to me. If something would happen to him I would be supremely upset. Not to mention if it happened before we got to talk and make up then I would be really upset. From a business stand point, Hondo had also made some good points. He has been on the other side of this. So I would bring up his concerns when I came to see the space. Not to mention if Hondo is going to be a part of this I want him to be happy. Not only is he my friend and is this a team effort, but also he will work better.
I also spoke to some other friends, one being an accomplished composer, who said that letting go of the control over one's career can be hard. Not to mention especially when you both think you're right. I started to col down significantly. I would ask about what Hondo wanted when I went to see the space. The worst that could happen was we brought our business elsewhere. Walking to see it and meet with the people went from my mission as Career Minded Woman to now a rock in my stomach. I was dizzy from being so fired up and frankly drained. Now I no longer wanted to be right, I wanted some sleep.
I went to see the space and brought up Hondo's concerns and suggestions. To my pleasant surprise, we ended up having an open, honest, and business orientated dialogue about how this all could be possible. At the end of the conversation, we spoke about us renting the smaller room and therefore our people not paying a cover. And as far as rent goes, while we don't have a final amount it is much more workable. The bar would be open and drinks would be served to our guests. While it is not final yet, this is a compromise that all could be happy with. I texted Hondo and he seemed happy. I also left him a nice message.
I also realized that while a beautiful, famous space is nice, it's not everything. It's not the end of the world if we don't get it. Hell, there are other beautiful, nice, spaces in the city. So far we have a good team. Looking at it from a wider angle, I think Hondo has some excellent points. Sometimes though, for as much as I want to win all the time it is better for everyone to be happy. Sometimes you have to take that breath, put down the damn phone, and live in pause.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
So yesterday I went to see it. I messaged him beforehand inviting him. He said he had to work. Okay, whatever. Then he mentioned he might be able to get out to join me. At our previous meeting he stated that sometimes he believed this whole thing was becoming The April Show. I figured okay, you have stuff going on. I was just taking the lead, Hondo. Well Hondo asked what time I was going to leave and I told him soon. Then Hondo had the nerve to ask me to hold off. I am like the White Rabbit, early for everything. I hate being late. This drove me crazy.
Then my contact at the place emailed me to move the meeting. I texted Hondo. Could he come? It was later. That is when Hondo stated he could not come later, and began to tell me what to ask for. I am one of those people who doesn't like being ordered around. Needless to say, we were both in that mind frame where we both wanted to be right and we both wanted to win. Suddenly April the Business Woman went out the window and the little girl inside of me was screaming, "You're not the boss of me!" That is when we began to go at it via text. I started by disagreeing peacefully but I wanted to win and so did he. Now I was going for blood. There is some mechanism in me that likes to fight, especially with men.
Maybe it was the fact my dad and I butted heads so much growing up. It's not that it was that we were so different. We were so much alike. We are strongly opinionated and love the history channel. It was the way we bonded. But when we went at it, neither one of us would back down. Sometimes it is better to be happy than to be right, but damnit we both want to be right.Of course, my dad's whole immediate family is this way. We all joke it is best never to discuss politics at a Brucker Family Gathering. I will say though, the discussions my dad and I have are lively because we are both so impassioned, and my aunts and uncles, although we differ, are well informed.
I think while this dynamic works for my relationship with my dad, it doesn't work a well in the dating world. So perhaps this is why I gravitate towards hyper-masculine dudes with no brain, feelings, but tempers like hell fire. Don't worry though, I can handle myself. I used to say the same thing with the former fiance. Even when things got bad, I could handle myself. At least so I thought. But now I was butting heads again and had to win. That is when the emoticons came out and all hell broke loose.
Something tells me before this all began we were both a little stressed and perhaps woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I have been working like a Mexican, and have been so tired some days I wake up feeling like the room is spinning. Hondo is soon to get married so he is running around like an African from wedding appointment to wedding appointment. Usually, he doesn't mind when I slam dudes in my weekly blog but this week he felt the need to let me know my perception of men was "skewed." Did I mention my mother sent me the "Call me when you wake up" text. I love the woman but don't send me those unless there is a death in the family. I can't have a convo especially when I am McStressed and crazy. Nonetheless, it was only 11 when this began and I was already tired, angry, and wanting blood.
I began to end my sentences with a smiley face. When I start making my points and ending them with a smiley face it is my way of saying "Fuck you mutherfucker." And then one smiley face became two, became three, became four. Eventually I guess the fight came to a draw because Hondo did the adult thing and stopped responding. Of course this is after I accused him of having an overblown male ego and not pulling his weight. Of course I was fired up. HOW THE HELL COULD HE STOP RESPONDING WHEN I WAS ON FIRE! I hadn't even started calling, cussing, swearing, or typing in all caps yet.
That is when something in me said, "Put down the phone, April." So I decided to stop texting, shouted a shitload of profanities, and went for a walk.
I did and went for a walk. As I was fuming walking down the street I saw a friend of mine who works in a car lot. He noticed I looked like I was going to deck someone. I ended up telling him what happened. We agreed shit happened. And he told me to take some time, cool down, and talk to my buddy again. I thought about it, Hondo is like a brother to me. If something would happen to him I would be supremely upset. Not to mention if it happened before we got to talk and make up then I would be really upset. From a business stand point, Hondo had also made some good points. He has been on the other side of this. So I would bring up his concerns when I came to see the space. Not to mention if Hondo is going to be a part of this I want him to be happy. Not only is he my friend and is this a team effort, but also he will work better.
I also spoke to some other friends, one being an accomplished composer, who said that letting go of the control over one's career can be hard. Not to mention especially when you both think you're right. I started to col down significantly. I would ask about what Hondo wanted when I went to see the space. The worst that could happen was we brought our business elsewhere. Walking to see it and meet with the people went from my mission as Career Minded Woman to now a rock in my stomach. I was dizzy from being so fired up and frankly drained. Now I no longer wanted to be right, I wanted some sleep.
I went to see the space and brought up Hondo's concerns and suggestions. To my pleasant surprise, we ended up having an open, honest, and business orientated dialogue about how this all could be possible. At the end of the conversation, we spoke about us renting the smaller room and therefore our people not paying a cover. And as far as rent goes, while we don't have a final amount it is much more workable. The bar would be open and drinks would be served to our guests. While it is not final yet, this is a compromise that all could be happy with. I texted Hondo and he seemed happy. I also left him a nice message.
I also realized that while a beautiful, famous space is nice, it's not everything. It's not the end of the world if we don't get it. Hell, there are other beautiful, nice, spaces in the city. So far we have a good team. Looking at it from a wider angle, I think Hondo has some excellent points. Sometimes though, for as much as I want to win all the time it is better for everyone to be happy. Sometimes you have to take that breath, put down the damn phone, and live in pause.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
August 11, 2013
A Bigger Plate
This week has been a busy one in the world of April. I can't even begin to tell you about all the things I have been dealing with. Lets start with I have been BUSY AS FREAKING FUCK. Okay, these are words my mother doesn't like me to use but I went and used them, HA! All week I have been juggling my new hosting gig, the still existing telegram job (Thank God, it pays my bills), filming details for one project and things for two others. Plus I am getting ready to finally delivery my audiobook. It is a blessing because my team is wonderful. Still, it was my phone ringing every five seconds. It's not like I got a moment's rest either.
Last Sunday the day begun when a friend of mine was off his psych meds for bipolar. So during the delusion he got my Booski ended up believing that two people we knew and then a random black dude broke into his home. Apparently he went down to the precinct and filed a report and everything. Did I mention this was before 7 AM. Oh and my mom called me at 5:45 by accident waking me up. So I figured the day had begun, why not? In any event, the way my buddy told the story was pretty funny. I guess I want to know why is it always a random black dude? Then again, my buddy is off his meds, not evil. Well the story ended with him going to the psych hospital, and then coming home so bummed he brought this big thing of food and in his depression ate it all. The best line was, "The only person who's not pissed with me right now is my dog."
I have long ago given up the belief I could have normal friends. It ain't gonna happen. Sigh McSigh. The rest of the day Sunday was spent getting ready to film et al. Monday had some girl drama that I will not get into. The only thing I will say is that the older I get, the more allergic to drama I am. I don't even hate the girlie I had the drama with, I think the unfortunate thing is that the poor child knows no better. But I did a full set with eight of my puppets in Brooklyn. Oh and I also delivered a telegram first thing in the morning. But the day ended with me McMakin and McMackin with a McStud. Oh and I also had to race and run write my column for Sex From Both Sides.
Tuesday saw me doing more stuff for my on camera hosting gig at ITTV. I love the gig and love being in front of the camera. Not to mention some stuff for the project I am filming.
Wednesday I filmed the interview and had a telegram. Plus I talked to the producer of the project I am currently working on.
Thursday I had a project meeting with my business partner and made an ass out of myself at the desired venue. But my new assistant Masimo, a gay kid from Dominica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic, although both are a butt load homophobic), was a God send helping me with business plans. By the time night came I was tired. I also couldn't enter a contest because of a date conflict but I really liked the lady and want to work with her in the future.
Friday of course was delivering the telegram and more stuff for ITTV events. I was so worn out that I isolated and spent the night in. I ordered sushi to be delivered to my home. Of course I ended up watching Deadly Women, because who can resist a show where men get killed.
Saturday I had lunch with a hot lunch date. I figured I deserved it. However before that I had about three business calls and then had to meet with someone else all before noon. But then of course I went to my business partner/friend's BBQ. He is more like a big brother to me than anything. I love him and his fiance. They are sooooo cute together. He gave me a stern lecture about my choice in men and chastised me for wagging my finger like he always does. I was chilling, having fun, and then my phone just kept ringing with people who wanted shit from me. As I had convo after convo with people on business I missed another friend thrusting a whole Twinkie in his mouth. I just wanted to take the phone and throw it off the damn balcony into the night.
Where would it land? The streets of New York City? On the car of some rich fuck? On the head of some idiot girl who just wanted the idiot husband? Or would it go to space and the fucking Martians would answer?Klatu, Nictu, Baratu, may I help you....
Of course this morning I was on my way to Jersey to deliver a telegram and had to go early as not to miss a train and my mom called me to give me notes on my ITTV interview. As she is giving me notes on my interview I stood up on the train to get off and banged my head leaving me a nice little bump. Of course I let out the following blue streak, "FUCK! JESUS FUCKING FUCK I HATE THESE FUCKING TRAINS, THESE MIDGET CEILINGS AND THE STATE OF NEW JERSEY!!!!!" And then I saw there were children sitting there. FUCK ME!!!!
Then I remembered I am busy because my dreams are coming true. Years ago I was crying because it looked like it would never happen for me. I was lugging myself from open mic to open mic, living on laundry money, and barking for stage time. I would see people with TV credits come in and out and only dreamed of being them but it seemed so far away. I remembered sitting in my unairconditioned apartment writing my book and my then roomie having a nervous breakdown and losing both the friend who inspired me to write again and another friend who inspired me to be myself to drugs. I remembered how much fun it had been to be onstage for the first time in NYC. How cool it was to be on National TV for the first time. How I got my first on the street recognition without even expecting it. How cool it felt to record down the hall from Deborah Harry and see her yappy dogs.
Newsflash, when things start to happen in your life and career, things become hectic. Life becomes full. I used to cry because it seemed nothing would ever materialize. I was so scared of being left in the dust. Now here I am dusting myself off. So the chaos I have is the good kind.
Next week I have my musical stuff to work on, more ITTV stuff, I have to start uploading my audiobook to sell, and then I probably have another writing assignment in there. They say when God/Allah/Universe gives you more than you can handle, you have to ask Him/Her/It for a bigger plate. So here I am, asking for a bigger plate.
A few years ago when I came out of a particularly rough time in my life I got this thing that is still framed in my apartment. It is a little ethnically ambiguous cherub with the words, "When the trials of life seem to be working your nerves and you don't know what to do. Or when it seems you're having so many problems, you've bitt'n off more than you can chew. There's one thing you must tell yourself, when these situations you cannot dodge, I must sit down, calm myself, relax, My God's in charge."
So in times when it feels like I just run around and my feet are falling off, I must remember I am chasing my dreams. From that I must never tire. I must stand up straight for I am an accomplished woman, and when you stand upright the burdens roll off your back. I must tell myself I am too blessed to be stressed, because my dreams are coming true and this is everything I worked for since I was a little girl coming to fruition. Not to mention one hundred want to stab me in the back because of the success I am getting, and thousands want to take my place.
That means I have to stop answering the phone by saying, "What!" when my mother calls. Translated, I have to drop the attitude and be more grateful.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Last Sunday the day begun when a friend of mine was off his psych meds for bipolar. So during the delusion he got my Booski ended up believing that two people we knew and then a random black dude broke into his home. Apparently he went down to the precinct and filed a report and everything. Did I mention this was before 7 AM. Oh and my mom called me at 5:45 by accident waking me up. So I figured the day had begun, why not? In any event, the way my buddy told the story was pretty funny. I guess I want to know why is it always a random black dude? Then again, my buddy is off his meds, not evil. Well the story ended with him going to the psych hospital, and then coming home so bummed he brought this big thing of food and in his depression ate it all. The best line was, "The only person who's not pissed with me right now is my dog."
I have long ago given up the belief I could have normal friends. It ain't gonna happen. Sigh McSigh. The rest of the day Sunday was spent getting ready to film et al. Monday had some girl drama that I will not get into. The only thing I will say is that the older I get, the more allergic to drama I am. I don't even hate the girlie I had the drama with, I think the unfortunate thing is that the poor child knows no better. But I did a full set with eight of my puppets in Brooklyn. Oh and I also delivered a telegram first thing in the morning. But the day ended with me McMakin and McMackin with a McStud. Oh and I also had to race and run write my column for Sex From Both Sides.
Tuesday saw me doing more stuff for my on camera hosting gig at ITTV. I love the gig and love being in front of the camera. Not to mention some stuff for the project I am filming.
Wednesday I filmed the interview and had a telegram. Plus I talked to the producer of the project I am currently working on.
Thursday I had a project meeting with my business partner and made an ass out of myself at the desired venue. But my new assistant Masimo, a gay kid from Dominica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic, although both are a butt load homophobic), was a God send helping me with business plans. By the time night came I was tired. I also couldn't enter a contest because of a date conflict but I really liked the lady and want to work with her in the future.
Friday of course was delivering the telegram and more stuff for ITTV events. I was so worn out that I isolated and spent the night in. I ordered sushi to be delivered to my home. Of course I ended up watching Deadly Women, because who can resist a show where men get killed.
Saturday I had lunch with a hot lunch date. I figured I deserved it. However before that I had about three business calls and then had to meet with someone else all before noon. But then of course I went to my business partner/friend's BBQ. He is more like a big brother to me than anything. I love him and his fiance. They are sooooo cute together. He gave me a stern lecture about my choice in men and chastised me for wagging my finger like he always does. I was chilling, having fun, and then my phone just kept ringing with people who wanted shit from me. As I had convo after convo with people on business I missed another friend thrusting a whole Twinkie in his mouth. I just wanted to take the phone and throw it off the damn balcony into the night.
Where would it land? The streets of New York City? On the car of some rich fuck? On the head of some idiot girl who just wanted the idiot husband? Or would it go to space and the fucking Martians would answer?Klatu, Nictu, Baratu, may I help you....
Of course this morning I was on my way to Jersey to deliver a telegram and had to go early as not to miss a train and my mom called me to give me notes on my ITTV interview. As she is giving me notes on my interview I stood up on the train to get off and banged my head leaving me a nice little bump. Of course I let out the following blue streak, "FUCK! JESUS FUCKING FUCK I HATE THESE FUCKING TRAINS, THESE MIDGET CEILINGS AND THE STATE OF NEW JERSEY!!!!!" And then I saw there were children sitting there. FUCK ME!!!!
Then I remembered I am busy because my dreams are coming true. Years ago I was crying because it looked like it would never happen for me. I was lugging myself from open mic to open mic, living on laundry money, and barking for stage time. I would see people with TV credits come in and out and only dreamed of being them but it seemed so far away. I remembered sitting in my unairconditioned apartment writing my book and my then roomie having a nervous breakdown and losing both the friend who inspired me to write again and another friend who inspired me to be myself to drugs. I remembered how much fun it had been to be onstage for the first time in NYC. How cool it was to be on National TV for the first time. How I got my first on the street recognition without even expecting it. How cool it felt to record down the hall from Deborah Harry and see her yappy dogs.
Newsflash, when things start to happen in your life and career, things become hectic. Life becomes full. I used to cry because it seemed nothing would ever materialize. I was so scared of being left in the dust. Now here I am dusting myself off. So the chaos I have is the good kind.
Next week I have my musical stuff to work on, more ITTV stuff, I have to start uploading my audiobook to sell, and then I probably have another writing assignment in there. They say when God/Allah/Universe gives you more than you can handle, you have to ask Him/Her/It for a bigger plate. So here I am, asking for a bigger plate.
A few years ago when I came out of a particularly rough time in my life I got this thing that is still framed in my apartment. It is a little ethnically ambiguous cherub with the words, "When the trials of life seem to be working your nerves and you don't know what to do. Or when it seems you're having so many problems, you've bitt'n off more than you can chew. There's one thing you must tell yourself, when these situations you cannot dodge, I must sit down, calm myself, relax, My God's in charge."
So in times when it feels like I just run around and my feet are falling off, I must remember I am chasing my dreams. From that I must never tire. I must stand up straight for I am an accomplished woman, and when you stand upright the burdens roll off your back. I must tell myself I am too blessed to be stressed, because my dreams are coming true and this is everything I worked for since I was a little girl coming to fruition. Not to mention one hundred want to stab me in the back because of the success I am getting, and thousands want to take my place.
That means I have to stop answering the phone by saying, "What!" when my mother calls. Translated, I have to drop the attitude and be more grateful.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
August 10, 2013
Boys (Sabrina)
I don't know what it is, but this past week has been busy with the Dudeski's. After a summer that was dry in that department, I am making up for lost time. Last Saturday I was just chillin with some friendski's when I saw a guy who is from time to time my angel in the neighborhood. Anyway, we ended up chilling and he kissed me. I was like WOWSA! LONG TIME SINCE A DUDESKI KISSED ME!!!!
It was like the rainbow bank had broken open and all these stars were coming out. Okay, not that dramatic but it had been a while. So Sunday we ended up hanging again and McMakin out in the park like teenagers. I haven't heard from him since. Just as well. I am a busy woman anyway. He was cute though.Oh and he thought it was neat I did ventriloquism.
The sense of loss was not long because Monday I did a show at Lucky 13. This dude who was half Dominican and half red neck was checking me out. I have seen Dominican spliced with lots of things but never red neck. His dad is from DR and his mom is from Alabama. I promised myself no more Latinos because it always ends in disaster. Clearly he and Mother Nature didn't get the memo. After my set this puppet groupie kissed me.
And then we went outside where we McMadeout!!!! Yes, two in one week. God I feel like a Slutina. Anyway, he has never been to jail, has never had a drug habit, and has no children. Must be the white boy in him. But that white boy is a red neck and he might be his own grandpa and he may have been abducted by aliens. I am not patting myself on the back just yet. Well he called me the next day and apparently he sells real estate. Hmmm.....We have been texting back and fourth. He is on the cute, shy, awkward side. I like.
Of course his friend was buying me sodas all night and stuff. And he too wants to get together for drinks. His friend is quieter than he is, but I like him too. I didn't make out with his friend though.
Yes guys cheat and lie all the time but they make me McGiggle.
Or in the words of Sabrina and her song and that so gay announcer with the deep voice, "BOYS!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qh_lB4xHqWw
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
It was like the rainbow bank had broken open and all these stars were coming out. Okay, not that dramatic but it had been a while. So Sunday we ended up hanging again and McMakin out in the park like teenagers. I haven't heard from him since. Just as well. I am a busy woman anyway. He was cute though.Oh and he thought it was neat I did ventriloquism.
The sense of loss was not long because Monday I did a show at Lucky 13. This dude who was half Dominican and half red neck was checking me out. I have seen Dominican spliced with lots of things but never red neck. His dad is from DR and his mom is from Alabama. I promised myself no more Latinos because it always ends in disaster. Clearly he and Mother Nature didn't get the memo. After my set this puppet groupie kissed me.
And then we went outside where we McMadeout!!!! Yes, two in one week. God I feel like a Slutina. Anyway, he has never been to jail, has never had a drug habit, and has no children. Must be the white boy in him. But that white boy is a red neck and he might be his own grandpa and he may have been abducted by aliens. I am not patting myself on the back just yet. Well he called me the next day and apparently he sells real estate. Hmmm.....We have been texting back and fourth. He is on the cute, shy, awkward side. I like.
Of course his friend was buying me sodas all night and stuff. And he too wants to get together for drinks. His friend is quieter than he is, but I like him too. I didn't make out with his friend though.
Yes guys cheat and lie all the time but they make me McGiggle.
Or in the words of Sabrina and her song and that so gay announcer with the deep voice, "BOYS!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qh_lB4xHqWw
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
August 9, 2013
Big Head Sydrome
In comedy, sometimes success can go to a person's head a little. Actually that is in show business in general. You work your ass off and presto, it happens. And then suddenly you are on top of the world. People write you fan letters and voila! That is when you are on the list at places and you get fans. Oh and people write on your facebook wall, "Saw you on TV!"
I remember when it started happening to me it was cool. However there were a lot of other things happening. One was getting fired as the open mic host of a club I put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into. Oh and this was right after I got this club some meaty national television time. After that is was the painful lesson of learning some people are only your friends when you are down, and those people will shit talk you the second you find success because you left them in their loser dust. I remember being treated like dog shit in my own community because of my "fame seeking." On top of that it was years of male club owners speaking to me how ever they wanted to, usually putting me down for being a woman. Then there were the male comedians who were higher on the food chain either trying to seduce me or outright groping me. After them came the male producers who would hide me because I eclipsed the talent of their male headliner friend, and didn't want to upset him. Or the male producers who wanted to fuck with me just because I was more talented than them and they knew I was destined to pass them up. The women were no help. Hell, they were even worse. Whenever they could they trashed me and put me down. Suddenly, it was on a larger scale than I ever imagined.
To cope with it, I developed sort of a fuck all attitude. It kept the fact that there was so much jealousy around me seemingly hurt less. Granted, it ate me up inside but I had to keep going. What was I supposed to do? Suddenly become allergic to achievement because those around me where? I started dressing crazy, acting crazy, and regularly declared myself the greatest ever. Not to mention I was finally able to tell the majority of the men and women who fucked with me that they could get fucked.
The big head felt good. I told one booker who was being snarky with me to get fucked. I told another who wanted to give me the run around it was obvious that he didnt own a television. And then there was the idiot working the door giving me a hard time so I asked him, "Excuse me, do you know who I am?" Needless to say, the attitude turned heads. In some instances cracking the whip with people got me what I wanted. And in others, not so much...
Other doors opened and my ego did grow. My song "Stay" was number one on internet radio. I published my book. It made it into an Ivy League Collection and NYU. Mensa said good things. Britney gave it a plug. I was on TV some more. But the truth was, I felt lonely as hell. My big head had grown to the point where I felt that facebook was my personal soapbox. I fought with friends and fans and was alienating followers and anyone else who help me. So really it was the Tarot Chariot in reverse, my arrogance was setting me back.
Around this time, I remember being at an open mic just to work stuff out. My book had just been published. I detested having to pay for stage time. A female comedian asked where she could follow me and I explained my personal page was maxed out and told her to join my fan page. Then someone snapped, "The more friends you have on facebook the less you have in real life." I remember walking home angered. What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was a lose/lose situation. Granted, I felt I was slumming it at mics but I needed the time. So rather than just find where I was welcome I went on a facebook rant. Of course I reminded people who got in my way for the next several weeks who I (thought) I was.
A week later I ended up doing time in Queens. It was at a coffee house where no one knew me. I slinked in and told myself I wasn't talking to anyone. I remember going up and doing well with a new puppet. When I got offstage I remember this dude I never met came up to me. He told me he liked my stuff and had a different ending for a joke I wrote. I remember being humbled at that moment. That joke hadn't worked. Then it hit me. This is why I got into comedy in the first place. Yes, it was to be on TV and to get famous. But also just to make people laugh. I remembered how much fun it had been to chill in the diner after sets and exchange punchlines with people. How exciting it had been to get onstage. How my goal was just to be a good comedian and how I stood in awe of people with television credits. How I remembered who was nice and who was an asshole. How I was suddenly turning into that demanding asshole. How I didn't want to be that person either.
Not to mention my former friends were wrong for being jealous and treating me like trash. However, that was about them. It had nothing to do with me. My role was letting their jealousy and envy make me a paranoid, self-centered, asshole that no one wanted to be around. When I realized that, I was able to feel less bitter about the loss of their friendship and made friends who were proud of me, on my level, but would also be honest with me.
While it took a while for the cinderblock to go, it was slowly being chipped away. These days whenever I do a spot while I might have been seen on television, I am still another performer on the show. Sure, I might be on the shelf next to a woman who got a movie deal in NYU's Bookstore and a MacArthur Fellow at Brown, but it is an honor to share shelf space with them. Instead of cursing them in my head for wrongs they never did, I tell myself these are things I could do.
These days I look at my career as a job more or less, that is all it is. Outside of the Superfoxxx Persona and puppet mother I am a friend, daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, etc. After a shoot at my new hosting gig I am still home. I still have bills. I still have to make my damn bed. Bottom line, they call it show business because it is all a show. When you get swept into that world too deep, nothing and no one is real. And one day you are on top and next it is someone else. Not to mention no matter how famous you are, there is someone in Branson, Missouri who could give a rats ass about ya.
Nowadays the big head comes out when I am tired. That is when I turn into overworked woman against the world. Yesterday I had a meeting for a pilot and was giving my co-host/co-producer orders. Apparently, I was wagging my finger. He looked at me and said, "Don't wag your finger at me. I am not submissive here." I proceeded to bark orders at him again and he responded, "I don't even think you know you do it." Translated, I was being rightfully bitch smacked. It was a kind reminder that no matter how tired I get or important I think I am, I have to remember I can't talk to people however I want to, especially when they are in my corner.
Today I woke up and my body hurt. Of course I snapped at my mother which rarely happens. Translated, I need a night in.
These days I write for the Huffington Post, am about to (finally) drop my audiobook, have a cool on camera gig, and things are only getting better. Not to mention I have some other stuff going on. I am losing my mind, but it is job related stress. Everyone feels it, from the street sweeper on up. I am by no means terminally unique. I am getting success because I am working for it and earned it, but what is given can be taken. So I must always walk humbly. Cause we all know a big head cannot fit through any door without being popped.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
I remember when it started happening to me it was cool. However there were a lot of other things happening. One was getting fired as the open mic host of a club I put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into. Oh and this was right after I got this club some meaty national television time. After that is was the painful lesson of learning some people are only your friends when you are down, and those people will shit talk you the second you find success because you left them in their loser dust. I remember being treated like dog shit in my own community because of my "fame seeking." On top of that it was years of male club owners speaking to me how ever they wanted to, usually putting me down for being a woman. Then there were the male comedians who were higher on the food chain either trying to seduce me or outright groping me. After them came the male producers who would hide me because I eclipsed the talent of their male headliner friend, and didn't want to upset him. Or the male producers who wanted to fuck with me just because I was more talented than them and they knew I was destined to pass them up. The women were no help. Hell, they were even worse. Whenever they could they trashed me and put me down. Suddenly, it was on a larger scale than I ever imagined.
To cope with it, I developed sort of a fuck all attitude. It kept the fact that there was so much jealousy around me seemingly hurt less. Granted, it ate me up inside but I had to keep going. What was I supposed to do? Suddenly become allergic to achievement because those around me where? I started dressing crazy, acting crazy, and regularly declared myself the greatest ever. Not to mention I was finally able to tell the majority of the men and women who fucked with me that they could get fucked.
The big head felt good. I told one booker who was being snarky with me to get fucked. I told another who wanted to give me the run around it was obvious that he didnt own a television. And then there was the idiot working the door giving me a hard time so I asked him, "Excuse me, do you know who I am?" Needless to say, the attitude turned heads. In some instances cracking the whip with people got me what I wanted. And in others, not so much...
Other doors opened and my ego did grow. My song "Stay" was number one on internet radio. I published my book. It made it into an Ivy League Collection and NYU. Mensa said good things. Britney gave it a plug. I was on TV some more. But the truth was, I felt lonely as hell. My big head had grown to the point where I felt that facebook was my personal soapbox. I fought with friends and fans and was alienating followers and anyone else who help me. So really it was the Tarot Chariot in reverse, my arrogance was setting me back.
Around this time, I remember being at an open mic just to work stuff out. My book had just been published. I detested having to pay for stage time. A female comedian asked where she could follow me and I explained my personal page was maxed out and told her to join my fan page. Then someone snapped, "The more friends you have on facebook the less you have in real life." I remember walking home angered. What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was a lose/lose situation. Granted, I felt I was slumming it at mics but I needed the time. So rather than just find where I was welcome I went on a facebook rant. Of course I reminded people who got in my way for the next several weeks who I (thought) I was.
A week later I ended up doing time in Queens. It was at a coffee house where no one knew me. I slinked in and told myself I wasn't talking to anyone. I remember going up and doing well with a new puppet. When I got offstage I remember this dude I never met came up to me. He told me he liked my stuff and had a different ending for a joke I wrote. I remember being humbled at that moment. That joke hadn't worked. Then it hit me. This is why I got into comedy in the first place. Yes, it was to be on TV and to get famous. But also just to make people laugh. I remembered how much fun it had been to chill in the diner after sets and exchange punchlines with people. How exciting it had been to get onstage. How my goal was just to be a good comedian and how I stood in awe of people with television credits. How I remembered who was nice and who was an asshole. How I was suddenly turning into that demanding asshole. How I didn't want to be that person either.
Not to mention my former friends were wrong for being jealous and treating me like trash. However, that was about them. It had nothing to do with me. My role was letting their jealousy and envy make me a paranoid, self-centered, asshole that no one wanted to be around. When I realized that, I was able to feel less bitter about the loss of their friendship and made friends who were proud of me, on my level, but would also be honest with me.
While it took a while for the cinderblock to go, it was slowly being chipped away. These days whenever I do a spot while I might have been seen on television, I am still another performer on the show. Sure, I might be on the shelf next to a woman who got a movie deal in NYU's Bookstore and a MacArthur Fellow at Brown, but it is an honor to share shelf space with them. Instead of cursing them in my head for wrongs they never did, I tell myself these are things I could do.
These days I look at my career as a job more or less, that is all it is. Outside of the Superfoxxx Persona and puppet mother I am a friend, daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, etc. After a shoot at my new hosting gig I am still home. I still have bills. I still have to make my damn bed. Bottom line, they call it show business because it is all a show. When you get swept into that world too deep, nothing and no one is real. And one day you are on top and next it is someone else. Not to mention no matter how famous you are, there is someone in Branson, Missouri who could give a rats ass about ya.
Nowadays the big head comes out when I am tired. That is when I turn into overworked woman against the world. Yesterday I had a meeting for a pilot and was giving my co-host/co-producer orders. Apparently, I was wagging my finger. He looked at me and said, "Don't wag your finger at me. I am not submissive here." I proceeded to bark orders at him again and he responded, "I don't even think you know you do it." Translated, I was being rightfully bitch smacked. It was a kind reminder that no matter how tired I get or important I think I am, I have to remember I can't talk to people however I want to, especially when they are in my corner.
Today I woke up and my body hurt. Of course I snapped at my mother which rarely happens. Translated, I need a night in.
These days I write for the Huffington Post, am about to (finally) drop my audiobook, have a cool on camera gig, and things are only getting better. Not to mention I have some other stuff going on. I am losing my mind, but it is job related stress. Everyone feels it, from the street sweeper on up. I am by no means terminally unique. I am getting success because I am working for it and earned it, but what is given can be taken. So I must always walk humbly. Cause we all know a big head cannot fit through any door without being popped.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
August 8, 2013
Stranger Things
Today is my parents 38th wedding anniversary. My folks found love in the weirdest way. It was my Aunt Darlene's wedding. She and my Uncle Rob had been high school sweethearts and had been an item since they were kids. Long story short, my grandfather had died when my dad was nineteen so he was kind of the man of the house. The second of seven, oldest boy, his job was to give my aunt away. So they were all at the church for the big day.
When my grandfather died-my dad's dad-my grandmother was left with four kids still at home for the most part. My Aunt Margaret (RIP) was married. Aunt Darlene was getting married. While my dad still lived at home he was gainfully employed now that he was finished with college. But my grandmother still had four mouths to feed. Anyway, my Mema had some money from my grandfather's pension from the mill, but not enough. So my Nunni (RIP), my mom's mom, stepped in. Basically, what happened was my Nunni-a one time nurse-was able to help my Mema get a job as an LPN. Thus she got invited to her daughter's wedding as a thank you.
Well mom really didnt want to go. She had kinda sorta been dating my dad's cousin and blew the dude off. Apparently he was trying to be a pilot and according to my mother was "unstable." Anyway, my dad told his heartbroken cousin, "Forget that broad." Allegedly my dad had said hello to my mother while flying a kite on Flagstaff Hill at University of Pittsburgh but my mom blew him off. My mom alleges that my dad was tending bar at her cousin's party and was with some crazy red head and totally gave her the diss.My mom had no clue my dad was going to be there. She was just a young teacher, overworked, and wanted to be left alone. But my Nunni told her that she needed to go where the single guys were and that was a wedding.
Then the drama began. The bartender had a heart attack. So my Nunni and Mom stepped in to help serve drinks. One thing about my Nunni was that for as crazy as she could be, she was big into the spiritual part of Catholicism. On a good note, that meant helping out when things were crazy. On a not so good note, that meant rescuing riff raff she met at McDonald's and bringing them to family functions when they were either just out of jail or living at some half way house. Needless to say my dad was thankful.
This is how the exchange went from there.
Fire hall. Open scene.
Dad: Mrs. Wallisch, thank you so much. Let me know if there is anything I can do to repay you for helping make my sister's day special.
Nunni: Yes. Go over there and dance with my single daughter.
Nunni walks over to my mom
Nunni: See that young man right there. You are going to dance with him.
Mom: But Mom-
Nunni: Hush up. He is King of the Paper Boys. Now look distracted and bored.
(Note: My dad had gotten his MBA and was working for Price Water House. His MBA days were long over).
My Dad walks over
Dad: Want to dance
My mom doing a bad bored and distracted
Mom: Sure
Needless to say the rest is history. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
When my grandfather died-my dad's dad-my grandmother was left with four kids still at home for the most part. My Aunt Margaret (RIP) was married. Aunt Darlene was getting married. While my dad still lived at home he was gainfully employed now that he was finished with college. But my grandmother still had four mouths to feed. Anyway, my Mema had some money from my grandfather's pension from the mill, but not enough. So my Nunni (RIP), my mom's mom, stepped in. Basically, what happened was my Nunni-a one time nurse-was able to help my Mema get a job as an LPN. Thus she got invited to her daughter's wedding as a thank you.
Well mom really didnt want to go. She had kinda sorta been dating my dad's cousin and blew the dude off. Apparently he was trying to be a pilot and according to my mother was "unstable." Anyway, my dad told his heartbroken cousin, "Forget that broad." Allegedly my dad had said hello to my mother while flying a kite on Flagstaff Hill at University of Pittsburgh but my mom blew him off. My mom alleges that my dad was tending bar at her cousin's party and was with some crazy red head and totally gave her the diss.My mom had no clue my dad was going to be there. She was just a young teacher, overworked, and wanted to be left alone. But my Nunni told her that she needed to go where the single guys were and that was a wedding.
Then the drama began. The bartender had a heart attack. So my Nunni and Mom stepped in to help serve drinks. One thing about my Nunni was that for as crazy as she could be, she was big into the spiritual part of Catholicism. On a good note, that meant helping out when things were crazy. On a not so good note, that meant rescuing riff raff she met at McDonald's and bringing them to family functions when they were either just out of jail or living at some half way house. Needless to say my dad was thankful.
This is how the exchange went from there.
Fire hall. Open scene.
Dad: Mrs. Wallisch, thank you so much. Let me know if there is anything I can do to repay you for helping make my sister's day special.
Nunni: Yes. Go over there and dance with my single daughter.
Nunni walks over to my mom
Nunni: See that young man right there. You are going to dance with him.
Mom: But Mom-
Nunni: Hush up. He is King of the Paper Boys. Now look distracted and bored.
(Note: My dad had gotten his MBA and was working for Price Water House. His MBA days were long over).
My Dad walks over
Dad: Want to dance
My mom doing a bad bored and distracted
Mom: Sure
Needless to say the rest is history. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
August 4, 2013
Seriously Dudeskis
Okay, I don’t get the male gender sometimes. Granted, my own people are catty and take pot shots at each other, but dudeskis are just plain obsessed with sex sometimes. What I don’t get is when a guy will tell me how good he is in bed. I mean, why you be telling me how good you are in bed. Telling me how good you are in bed is like telling me that there is a Santa Claus. The more you tell me the less I believe.The other night I was talking to a dudeski. I actually kind of like this one. Anyway, the dudeski and I were walking home and we were really hitting it off. To make a long story short he is going through some shitz right now so I am not pushing this. Anyway, he told me that when he services a girl he likes to do most of the work and is big on foreplay. Hmmmski. Most guys talk a good game.Talk being the key word.Then one guy told me how big his penis was. Then one dudeski told me he was superior at oral.The only reply I have to these dudeskis is in your mind you might be superior, but if you have to tell me about this, you are mentally and physically inferior. Machismo shot down. Game over McChicos!
Love April
Love April
August 2, 2013
Strange Mood
I have been going back and fourth in this bizarre twilight zone in the world of standup comedy for a while. A few years ago I was doing a lot. I was on the road every damn weekend. It was crazy. Then there was some shit that went down that wasn’t so Kosher. Either way, I found myself alienated. I would have been a hero if I were a guy. As a woman I found myself on the wrong end of an art form that is on it’s last leg. No biggie.There was a lot of me that liked making people laugh and still does. But other doors opened and I did other shit. I really actually didn’t miss standup like I thought I would. Actually it was a relief to be doing other shit. I realized the idea of a community was utter bullshit. As a woman it is a waste of time actually. It seems male comedians have their careers handed to them with little or no work at all.
Lately there is a part of me that misses it. I miss getting onstage and making people laugh. I just don’t miss the politics and the sexism that goes with it. I don’t miss male headliners treating me like a fresh piece of meat. I don’t miss the competition amongst female comedians at all to be the sole female comedian. I don’t miss seeing women on the lineup who are obviously blowing a more established comedian. I don’t miss the gossip and name calling about women who are determined to make it. Plus there is no money in it. But I do like making people laugh. Granted, these days I do it with my books and youtube videos. However I do miss it. I also miss some of my comic friends.
But the thing is, I have paid certain dues. There is no way in fucking hell I am doing any more open mics. When people invite me on facebook or even via text I want to inform them been there done that. I have hosted a few myself. At one point, I hosted one very successful mic for one club that shall remain nameless. I have also paid a small fortune for stage time. Fuck no, never again. Fuck that proverbial shit with a big, black dildo. Open mics at this point in my development are not only soul crushing but a waste of my budget and artistic time. Most of these idiots taking the stage have no business being behind a mic. A lot of it is inside jokes between cliques who only laugh at each other's jokes anyway. You never get honest feedback. Open mics are good if you are merely starting out and need a place to get up, get comfy, and get your act together. After a certain point-at least for me-having been on national television X amount of times, having published a book, and having blogged for the Huffington Post this is just plain asinine. If anything you should either let me perform for free or pay me to show up. Not to mention I have in fact featured and headlined. So don't waste my fucking time. Been there done that. To those doing it, good for you. Kudos on the stage time and keep on keepin on. But again, paid that due.
While we are on that note it is fucking comical in itself when people drop me a line to flier. Actually they haven't in some time. Paid that due as well. Got more chest colds that way than anything else. Wish I could say it paid off in some way. It was a waste of time that one. Most of the time you don't get strangers off the street and they are pissed they are being bothered. I did it like a good girl and I didn't complain. I took more shit from more male producers about how I wasn't "efficient enough," when meanwhile members of their boys club fucked around and smoked cigarettes on the sidewalk. Then again, my fans recognize me on the street and these moron members of the boys club are no where to be found. As the woman I am always expected to carry more weight anyway. It all works out.
As for bringers, did those too. I brought my share of people. I have run out of friends. I know the tricks. There are no industry there. Paid my dues there as well. Not that it fucking matters to people looking to make a second income in the club scene. Some go on to become club owners. Some producers. Most blood suckers. Dealt with them. For the love of God please don’t text me to be on your fucking bringer. Otherwise I will ask you if you own a television or go to bookstores. I will be a bitch about it.I am also done producing shows. Did that too. Again, paid that due. Am not paying it again and again in my blood thank you very much.
Fuck it. I did it all. These days I am particular about where I perform. Yes it means I perform much less. I only perform if I like the venue. That being said, that means only a top notch place or an A list club. I am done with club owners who have second rate digs and I am done with being forced to pay dues I have when I am more famous than the entire lineup. I also perform on fan shows as well. I do these as favors cause I love my fans. I love it when they ask me to perform and show up willingly. I also have no problem performing on really alt shows. Love those. I also do a shitload of shows for druggies. Love a recovering druggie audience. I also appear if you pay me. I know, makes me sound like a whore but eh. That being said, I don't show up just anywhere.
Do I have a chip on my shoulder? Yes. I have worked hard and have eaten shit because I am a woman with a niche act. I have worked my entire young adult life while many of my friends have wantonly become slaves to male captors and have become their breeders. Maybe I should just throw in the fucking towel and get a job marketing where I can pretend to care about someone's kids and have candy on my desk. But then I think, nah. Made too much headway. Am making too much progress to let them all win. Don't let them. Don't tread on me. I probably could get a cush dayjob but a lot of places wouldnt hire someone like me because they would be terrified I would make off when my career took off. And it's true, I would.
As for my living situation, have no fucking idea what is next for me there. I love New York but I pay too Goddamn much in rent. Thought about moving to Queens, Brooklyn, or Bronx but I am used to everything being so close. Plus add travel time and all, you are better ending up in Manhattan. I thought about getting another roommate but you always end up getting a crazy or worse yet, you always end up making up for the fact they are too unstable to pay rent. You are better off breaking your ass and working a little more.
I have no desire to move back to Pittsburgh. While I love my home city, there is nothing there for me. I don't know what I would do if I moved back home. Maybe I could marry a man and pop out some kids. Then I could watch soaps all day and be a housewife. Maybe I could teach elementary school or something. But I hated school when I was there. I would probably drink again.
Then of course there is the thought I could move to LA. I would have to learn how to drive. That’s the downside. But in a lot of ways I feel like I have exhausted New York. I have done the clubs, performed of Broadway, and everything else in between. LA might be the next logical step. But maybe I am too old. Maybe I should have done that shit when I was younger and could have gotten breast implants. I don't know.
I have also toyed with moving to Europe. I have thought about London but then there is the issue of the work Visa. However, I have heard I would have tremendous luck in the Euro market. Still that is a lot of red tape.
I have no agent or manager. Despite being more famous than their entire roster, a ventriloquist makes them all gun shy.
Who the fuck knows what is next? Maybe I will win the lottery. Maybe the world will blow up. Or at the very least maybe this strange mood will pass.
LoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girlwww.aprilbrucker.com
Lately there is a part of me that misses it. I miss getting onstage and making people laugh. I just don’t miss the politics and the sexism that goes with it. I don’t miss male headliners treating me like a fresh piece of meat. I don’t miss the competition amongst female comedians at all to be the sole female comedian. I don’t miss seeing women on the lineup who are obviously blowing a more established comedian. I don’t miss the gossip and name calling about women who are determined to make it. Plus there is no money in it. But I do like making people laugh. Granted, these days I do it with my books and youtube videos. However I do miss it. I also miss some of my comic friends.
But the thing is, I have paid certain dues. There is no way in fucking hell I am doing any more open mics. When people invite me on facebook or even via text I want to inform them been there done that. I have hosted a few myself. At one point, I hosted one very successful mic for one club that shall remain nameless. I have also paid a small fortune for stage time. Fuck no, never again. Fuck that proverbial shit with a big, black dildo. Open mics at this point in my development are not only soul crushing but a waste of my budget and artistic time. Most of these idiots taking the stage have no business being behind a mic. A lot of it is inside jokes between cliques who only laugh at each other's jokes anyway. You never get honest feedback. Open mics are good if you are merely starting out and need a place to get up, get comfy, and get your act together. After a certain point-at least for me-having been on national television X amount of times, having published a book, and having blogged for the Huffington Post this is just plain asinine. If anything you should either let me perform for free or pay me to show up. Not to mention I have in fact featured and headlined. So don't waste my fucking time. Been there done that. To those doing it, good for you. Kudos on the stage time and keep on keepin on. But again, paid that due.
While we are on that note it is fucking comical in itself when people drop me a line to flier. Actually they haven't in some time. Paid that due as well. Got more chest colds that way than anything else. Wish I could say it paid off in some way. It was a waste of time that one. Most of the time you don't get strangers off the street and they are pissed they are being bothered. I did it like a good girl and I didn't complain. I took more shit from more male producers about how I wasn't "efficient enough," when meanwhile members of their boys club fucked around and smoked cigarettes on the sidewalk. Then again, my fans recognize me on the street and these moron members of the boys club are no where to be found. As the woman I am always expected to carry more weight anyway. It all works out.
As for bringers, did those too. I brought my share of people. I have run out of friends. I know the tricks. There are no industry there. Paid my dues there as well. Not that it fucking matters to people looking to make a second income in the club scene. Some go on to become club owners. Some producers. Most blood suckers. Dealt with them. For the love of God please don’t text me to be on your fucking bringer. Otherwise I will ask you if you own a television or go to bookstores. I will be a bitch about it.I am also done producing shows. Did that too. Again, paid that due. Am not paying it again and again in my blood thank you very much.
Fuck it. I did it all. These days I am particular about where I perform. Yes it means I perform much less. I only perform if I like the venue. That being said, that means only a top notch place or an A list club. I am done with club owners who have second rate digs and I am done with being forced to pay dues I have when I am more famous than the entire lineup. I also perform on fan shows as well. I do these as favors cause I love my fans. I love it when they ask me to perform and show up willingly. I also have no problem performing on really alt shows. Love those. I also do a shitload of shows for druggies. Love a recovering druggie audience. I also appear if you pay me. I know, makes me sound like a whore but eh. That being said, I don't show up just anywhere.
Do I have a chip on my shoulder? Yes. I have worked hard and have eaten shit because I am a woman with a niche act. I have worked my entire young adult life while many of my friends have wantonly become slaves to male captors and have become their breeders. Maybe I should just throw in the fucking towel and get a job marketing where I can pretend to care about someone's kids and have candy on my desk. But then I think, nah. Made too much headway. Am making too much progress to let them all win. Don't let them. Don't tread on me. I probably could get a cush dayjob but a lot of places wouldnt hire someone like me because they would be terrified I would make off when my career took off. And it's true, I would.
As for my living situation, have no fucking idea what is next for me there. I love New York but I pay too Goddamn much in rent. Thought about moving to Queens, Brooklyn, or Bronx but I am used to everything being so close. Plus add travel time and all, you are better ending up in Manhattan. I thought about getting another roommate but you always end up getting a crazy or worse yet, you always end up making up for the fact they are too unstable to pay rent. You are better off breaking your ass and working a little more.
I have no desire to move back to Pittsburgh. While I love my home city, there is nothing there for me. I don't know what I would do if I moved back home. Maybe I could marry a man and pop out some kids. Then I could watch soaps all day and be a housewife. Maybe I could teach elementary school or something. But I hated school when I was there. I would probably drink again.
Then of course there is the thought I could move to LA. I would have to learn how to drive. That’s the downside. But in a lot of ways I feel like I have exhausted New York. I have done the clubs, performed of Broadway, and everything else in between. LA might be the next logical step. But maybe I am too old. Maybe I should have done that shit when I was younger and could have gotten breast implants. I don't know.
I have also toyed with moving to Europe. I have thought about London but then there is the issue of the work Visa. However, I have heard I would have tremendous luck in the Euro market. Still that is a lot of red tape.
I have no agent or manager. Despite being more famous than their entire roster, a ventriloquist makes them all gun shy.
Who the fuck knows what is next? Maybe I will win the lottery. Maybe the world will blow up. Or at the very least maybe this strange mood will pass.
LoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girlwww.aprilbrucker.com
August 1, 2013
What Sister's Talk About
My sister Skipper is an emergency room doctor in Nashville, TN. Currently she is a resident at Vanderbilt. As a young doctor she works a lot of nights. I suppose Skipper was coming home from work, still up, and needed someone to talk to. We had the following text conversation today. I got the following text at 1:27 AM and it went downhill from there.
Skipper: Hi!!!! Thinking of you!! Also, I am worried about the mole on your upper left chest. The one that is normally covered by your bra. How many millimeters in diameter is it? How long has it been there? Has it changed over time. Love you :)
Me: Are you on crack? Love you too.
Skipper: Ha ha no. Just my normal pills. jkjk.Was reading about bad freckles and moles and thought, holy shit, I hope April is okay.
Me: Yes, I am fine. How are you?
Skipper: Having a wonderful time. I saw a patient have a real gonnorhea cervix last night. There was like a coffee cup of smelly goo.
Me: That is nasty. That should be on a poster for safe sex. Condoms always.
Skipper: Ha ha. She had herpes too.
Me: Holy shit! Hope she wasn't a hooker. That would be what is known as a bad trick.
Skipper:Ha ha, love you too.
Yes, familia......That is all I will say.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
Skipper: Hi!!!! Thinking of you!! Also, I am worried about the mole on your upper left chest. The one that is normally covered by your bra. How many millimeters in diameter is it? How long has it been there? Has it changed over time. Love you :)
Me: Are you on crack? Love you too.
Skipper: Ha ha no. Just my normal pills. jkjk.Was reading about bad freckles and moles and thought, holy shit, I hope April is okay.
Me: Yes, I am fine. How are you?
Skipper: Having a wonderful time. I saw a patient have a real gonnorhea cervix last night. There was like a coffee cup of smelly goo.
Me: That is nasty. That should be on a poster for safe sex. Condoms always.
Skipper: Ha ha. She had herpes too.
Me: Holy shit! Hope she wasn't a hooker. That would be what is known as a bad trick.
Skipper:Ha ha, love you too.
Yes, familia......That is all I will say.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
July 29, 2013
A Ghandi Blog
We all know them. Unfortunately the entertainment industry is chalk full of them. Yes, people who are troubled. Apparently all insurance does not cover therapy so here they are fucking with our time and energy. As in, if they put the energy into the drama onstage that they did into real life they would all be winning Oscars. McSeriously.
I recently had a run in with a negative attention seeker. This young woman made my winter-spring very eventful to say the least. The current girlfriend of an ex of mine, who became literally obsessed with making my life a nightmare for God knows whatever reason. A lot of it has to do with the fact that this woman is unfortunately an alcoholic and a drug addict. I don't think she is sober for more than an hour a day. So basically she is very sick. In addition, she keeps a blog of sorts maintaining she had some sort of tough childhood with some sort of bizarre mother. Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't. A lot of it sounds like a mix of fabricated and a spoiled, entitled child blaming everyone but herself for her problems. Addict behavior if you will.
I have every right to hate this young woman. She has slandered me in public. Not only has she accused me of trying to cause problems with her and my ex (have not seen him in years and don't want to), but also has accused me of stalking her which is freaking laughable. However, I will point out that she copied several lines of my writing and tried to submit them as her own. Not to mention everytime I put up a youtube video she followed suite. When I did a show at a venue she worked at, she ripped down my posters to ensure no one would show up. After that, she made a series of hang up calls to me and blocked her number. On one she called me a bitch and told me to stay away from her boyfriend. Oh, and when I went platinum blonde so did she. When I low lighted my hair she went dark as well. And then the best part is, when I released a book suddenly she announced plans to release a book. The bitch doesn't even write. I guess the best was when the Queen of the Chemically Dependents released a video where she and her friends were beating the head in of a girl named April who was a "poser that had famous friends and a rich father." (Hmmmm, wonder where they got that complaint).
There is a part of me that wanted to beat her head in. I will not lie. However those around me reminded me of how sick she was and to let her go.
Well Ms. Wannabe has struck again. In addition to claiming I have no career, which is laughable because the closest she will ever get to my TV credits is seeing them in her living room, she is claiming I am harassing her again. I have not seen this thing in months!!! I wouldn't know about this except my friends relayed the story. She fabricated this story about how I am a mean girl who is making her life miserable. Oh and she also says I tormented her about her past. I did no such thing. She's insane. She's the one who was harassing me and wouldn't stop. This bitch is twisted.
However, on another level these days I am not so angry at her. Actually I feel terribly for her. She is a drug addict and an alcoholic. Her life is very small and very lonely. She is in a relationship with someone who is either enabling her or refuses to acknowledge she needs serious help. That lifestyle is not kind to women. The only road ahead of her is one of pain and suffering. Everytime I get an update on her she is either getting in trouble for drinking again, or whenever I am forced to look at her picture, she is bloated as hell.
While those around me tell me I should be flattered she copies me, it makes me cringe because it is a testament to how truly mentally ill she is. My life has not been easy. Yeah, I have made some career headway but I have paid dearly for being myself. While this is true, April Brucker is the only person I can be. I cannot be Mae West, I cannot be Marilyn Monroe, and I cannot be Madonna. Hell it would be nice to be Cyndi Lauper. But I am myself. We all have our own gifts. Trying to have someone else's is just desperate and pitiful. Not to mention I will admit, Ms. Wannabe is the better singer. She's can't write her way out of a paper bag but she can sing. But that's her gift. Shame on her for not running with it.
Seeing someone you hate look worse and worse should make you happy. Seeing someone you hate fall down the rabbit hole should make you happy. However, this doesn't make me happy. This makes me pity her even more. I know first hand how damaging addiction can be. I have had friends who died as a result of drug use, all wonderful and bright people buried with their boots on. I know the loneliness of being with someone who doesn't want to see you well and to be trapped in a codependent cycle. For as much as I hate what she is doing, I actually don't hate the person. My heart goes out to her on so many levels.
I guess my hope is that she finds a way out of the black hole she is in, where the nightmarish lies she tells herself is safer than the harmless truth of the outside world. I also hope God protects others from her lashing out, but most importantly, her from herself.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com
