April E. Brucker's Blog, page 49

Boys of Summer (Don Henley)

Yesterday I was walking by Hudson River Park. It had been a long week. Sunday I had one gig in Port Jeff and one gig in Yonkers all in the same day. Monday it was web stuff and more book stuff. Tuesday it was not one but two telegrams and then of course picking up my audiobook. Wednesday it was more telegram deliveries. Thursday was being Paris Hilton and hearing some of my book. Friday I had to track down my new May because the Post Office lost her. I ended up finding her but still, it was stressful.
Anyway, I was walking by the boardwalk and decided to just try to see if I could balance on those side thingies, you know. That is when this dude who is running breezes by and slaps me a high five. Okay, it’s summer. Whatever. It’s finally warm. People are in a decent mood. I jumped down from the thingie and proceeded to continue.
As I continued I saw this gaggle of young men swarm by on skateboards. As they came upon me, they began to hoot and holler. Swarming around me, they each slapped me a high five. What the hell was going on? “Yo, wassup!” The blonde one said.
“Wassup?!?” The black one said. While times have changed, most skateboarders in my day were white stoner kids.
“You’re hot.” A third one said. They all had black shirts on with the name of some sort of skate shop. I began to wonder what the hell was going on. This day was indeed very strange in sort of that dream sequence kind of way.
That is when the black skater said, “Yo, will you say something for our camera?”
“What are you filming?” I asked unsure of what was going on.
“Oh Shreddy TV. That is our network.” The black skater dude answered. He seemed to be the brains of the operations. “Say you are with Justin Adams.”
“Who’s Justin Adams?” I asked now very confused.
“I am.” The guy standing next to me explained. He looked to be ethnically ambiguous and was slightly taller than I was. Nonetheless, he was good looking. His arm was wrapped in a cast in an ace bandage.
“Nice to meet you,” I said going to shake his hand.
“Easy. Just broke the thing.” Justin explained.
“So I say, ‘This is Shreddy TV and I am here with Justin Adams?” I asked.
“Nah, just say this is Shreddy TV. That will be easier.” The black skater with the camera commanded.
“Okay.” I said. And that is when I gave the line. Afterwards they asked me to pose for a picture. And then they thanked me.
“Thanks so much, you are so cool.” The blonde white skater said.
“Hey, anything for random guys I meet at the pier.” I replied still confused as to what actually happened and how this thing just transpired out of no where.
“So you’re Justin.” I said turning to Justin not sure of what to say.
“Yes he is, and that is a pro you are standing next to.” The blonde explained. “And we are Shreddy TV. We all like the page on facebook. Friend us.”
Just as he boys sped off Justin hung back and chatted with me for a few more minutes.
This is how the exchange went
Justin: We should hang sometime. I have a sweet assed loft in Brooklyn.
Me: Okay.
Justin: You’re mad hot.
Me: Thanks.
Justin: Do you smoke weed?
Me: No.
Justin: Do you drink? There are a shitload of good bars in my hood.
Me: Not a drinker either.
Justin: What do you do?
Me: Chill and have fun.
Justin: I can chill and have fun.
Me: Fair enough. What’s your sign?
Justin: Virgo.
Me: Libra
Justin: Right on. Lets exchange numbers. Are you a West Side Girl?
Me: Yes sir.
We exchanged numbers and that is when his skater posse beckoned for him. There was more hot wheeling to be done. Just as I was about to cross the street to go home I came across the runner who high fived me once again. He approached me and said, “Hello Beautiful, we meet again.” That is when he took my hand and kissed it. I stood in shock. What the hell had just happened? I asked myself this. I bid him goodbye and a good night because what exactly do you do when you have had an evening like this.
That is when I determined that yes, there are only some things that can happen to me. xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center

Accidental Grammar Lesson

It's the summer where young guys are out and they think they are smooth. I would say it is the young black and Latino lads, but the not legal white dudes are pretty bold themselves. So here is starts. I am running and have my ear phones on and I see these two kids who are Latino. They could be no more than fifteen. They have their pants sagging and one has a rosary around his neck. I don't take notice because they are both fifty pounds soaking wet and only starting puberty. This is how the convo started.

One says something to me. I take my headphones off. Maybe he is lost.

Me: Excuse me?

Muchacho 1: How old are you?

Okay, he is clearly lost. He is trying to lower his voice and that is the worst pick up line ever! The last time I heard that was when I was 14-15.

Me: Old enough to be your mother.

Muchacho 2: Man, you don't look that old.

Me: Well how old are you? Fifteen.

Muchacho 1: Twenty.

Me: You look like you are fifteen. Let's see some ID.

Muchacho 1: I don't have ID.

Me: Then you are fifteen. I better end this conversation before I go to jail.

Muchacho 1: Miss, we not in Middle School.

Me: Excuse me?

Muchacho 1: Middle school is fifteen. We not in Middle School.

Me: Well since you either failed Middle School or are probably there, if you got anything out of the experience you would know the sentence is, "We are not in middle school."

They both stare at me dumbfounded. I am hardly a grammar Nazi but this is bad even for Ebonics.

Me: Yes, the sentence is we are not in middle school which means you need to maybe go back.

Muchacho 2: We are not in middle school. That sounds correct. I like that. Yeah, we are not in middle school.

So maybe I was able to help someone with their grammar. Perhaps one day this young man will get his GED and stay out of jail.

Muchacho 1: Miss, same thing. We not in middle school.

That is when I say goodbye. I will let these two Muchachos disappoint a woman their own age. Sigh men lie all the time and I would call them dogs. But a dog will never leave you for a prettier owner. And no matter how old they are, they think they are absolutely the cats meow and they think their wand is magic. However, they are funny as hell and never cease to make me smile.

xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center

The Procedure: A Successful Operation

Last Friday I saw a new play, a good play. Whenever one sees a new work it is always a gamble. The Procedure, a new and exciting work by Marcus Yi, was mounted at the Gene Frankel Theatre. Nestled in the East Village, Gene Frankel and his vision gave birth to ensemble pieces and experimental agit prop theatre with a message. These pieces were well crafted and in a creative way said to society, something is wrong. The Procedure as a piece not only follows that tradition, but honors it, addressing both racism, homophobia, and the subtle xenophobia that still infects America. The play opens with the main character, Adrian, making a flag of Singapore talking to his mother. He is a man living the American dream. He is from Asia, and he has gone to law school and become successful. However, there is one thing that is a strike against him in our society, he is gay. Adrian is speaking to his mother, who reveals his sister is getting married in Singapore.  Excited, Adrian wants to bring his partner and soon to be husband Jacob. Adrian’s mother explains that while Jacob may come, he cannot sit at the family table and must be present as his “friend.” Then he challenges his mother, who has gray hair and has been going on a hyper diatribe about how she will not eat Asian food not prepared by Asians, about whether or not she accepts her son’s homosexuality.
Stephen Thornton in a promo shot for The Procedure
That is when the fourth wall is broken and the mother speaks. Fenny Novyane, the actress, who plays the mother, reveals depth in this monologue. As the mother, on the surface she is portrayed as an old world eccentric on the surface. However, with the expert acting of Ms. Novyane, it is revealed she has more depth. A deeply religious woman, she reveals she loves her son yet struggles with his homosexuality. During a beach accident she says God rescued her and promised her a son. She dedicated her first son to God and then Adrian revealed he was gay. While she loves her son, she is entirely unsure of what to do when it comes to presenting his sexuality due to her old world point of view. Some of it is the mother protector role, and some of it is the world she came from where she feels she failed Adrian in some way. This creates one layer of discomfort that will continue the entire play which leads the audience members to question what they believe. A minute later the fourth wall is broken once again and we meet Adrian on a deeper level. Played by Stephen Thorton, Adrian goes from the initial quiet nerd who seems dismissively moody to someone who also has considerably more dimension. Adrian explains he always knew he was gay since he was a child, and often masqueraded in his mother’s clothing. His mother, in denial, dismissed this. Adrian doesn’t understand why she is surprised and bothered by this when it seemed obvious. While it is clear he loves his mother, there is tension between the two in regards to his sexuality as well as identity. This is because Adrian believes that he was born gay, whereas her mother believes it was a parenting mistake. With this opening, the audience is introduced to the experience of being the ultimate outsider in America: Gay and an immigrant. Again, one is left wondering, why the prejudice? What is the truth? What about the American dream? Next we see Adrian and his new husband Jacob in the office to get their marriage license and undergo questioning to make sure the marriage is legitimate due to Adrian’s immigration status. In contrast to Adrian who is rather rigid at times, Jacob is more straightforward and relaxed. A Native New Yorker, he is the second half to this new union. Right away, the relationship is clear as the two bicker at times like a traditional hederonormative husband and wife. Reynaldo Rivera, the actor portraying Jacob, also gives the character significant depth. While Jacob loves Adrian, he is somewhat obtuse and oblivious to the needs and feelings of his partner. This is not intentional because he is cold hearted, but rather because their experiences are different. The two men are interrogated by an agent portrayed by Lauren Gralton, who does not mask her ever present homophobia by asking inappropriate yet probing questions such as, “Which one is the husband and which one is the wife?” Both spouses stumble over oblivious questions such as which one keeps their toothbrush where. Adrian is questioned by the female agent. Jacob the male (Richard Glucksberg). Finally they are able to get their marriage license, however the issue is with Adrian being an immigrant. He is told that yes, they will be able to get the license. However, Adrian has to get a microchip implanted under his eye, hence “The Procedure.”After this we see the first of many vignettes. In these star actors Lauren Gralton, Richard Glucksberg, and Shubhra Prakash. In each of these vignettes, the actors advertise the microchips. While these vignettes, which continue until the end of the show, are hysterical, they also evoke the agit prop element of the piece. In each mini-commercial, the microchip user is promised things such as better hair, a better sex life, etc. These are a harsh, funny, yet frankly honest take on the moronic consumer culture that is America mixed with the xenophobia and prejudice that is acceptable. The couple being grilled
In the next scene it is revealed Adrian and Jacob have other issues in their relationship. While Jacob loves Adrian, he doesn’t understand his husband’s pain. Adrian does not want the microchip implant and feels this is inhuman. He has a point. He works, pays taxes, and has made a home in America. Jacob, on the other hand, is less than supportive. While he loves his husband, he wants him to get the implant so they can be together and won’t be deported. However, in his quest to make their life together he does not understand why Adrian objects. Then it is revealed Adrian feels like an outsider due to his coming to America as an immigrant. This can be seen when Adrian invites Jacob to meet a friend of his from Singapore. Jacob explains that he “cannot understand” Adrian’s friends from Singapore by the way they talk. Adrian points out Jacob understands him, and then corrects Adrian for saying Ikea wrong. Despite Jacob’s devotion, there is a serious disconnect between the two men. It is revealed during a dinner with friends Jacob and a Korean American girl knew the theme song to an American TV show, and Adrian did not. While Jacob does care about his husband, it is clear there is tension in the relationship because he does not identify. This is when Adrian first proposes to Jacob they move back to Singapore. Jacob is horrified. Adrian then gives a heart wrenching monologue about coming to America and feeling apart from as opposed to a part of. He explains that because he was from Singapore, he was the only Asian like himself. Adrian tells a story about his first day of class and a Vietnamese girl, who he explains he is still friends with asked him, “What are you?” He says very poignantly and matter of factly, “I am a person.” This is a testament to how America, despite being the country many want to flock to, is closed minded, sheltered, and at times bigoted the way it labels people. As a nation, most unfortunately, America has a label for someone or something not white and male. This has been an isolating experience for immigrants over the years, and it is captured masterfully during this scene. That is when Adrian comes up with a solution, he is moving back to Singapore. In the next scene Adrian is having lunch with his friend Dawn from Singapore, brilliantly portrayed by Shubhara Prakash. In this scene, Prakash steals the show distinguishing herself from the ensemble and shows promise as an actress, and as a theatre fan I cannot wait to see where she goes next. She is funny, on the mark, and brutally honest as she shoots down Adrian’s delusions of a better life in his home country. Dawn explains that while Adrian would always be welcome in Singapore, he would have to stay in the closet because being homosexual is not accepted in that culture. This creates more tension for the viewers. Yes, while Adrian is experiencing homophobia, racism, and xenophobia in America, he is more free to be who he is. On the other hand, if he returned to Singapore, he would have to live a lie. So he decides to get the microchip implanted. This is after pressure mounts from Jacob and his mother who tells him a disturbing yet on the mark story about conformity. Going to a free clinic, Adrian sits next to a blonde girl named Nadine (Lauren Gralton) who announces she is there for her fourth abortion. Funny and cheeky as the dumb blonde, the character is also appropriate for an agit prop piece as she serves as a message that birth control should be more readily available. At first Adrian is horrified as this young woman violates his psyche with disgusting jokes and comments, but then mentions she is protesting the microchip operations with her friends in DC. Adrian’s ears begin to perk up. Now he has an option, the option that every American dreams of, for their voice to be heard. The next scene is Adrian getting ready for The Procedure. The Doctor (Richard Glucksberg) is frightening, almost evocative of A Clockwork Orange. He explains that they must get Adrian ready for the micropchip implant also known as the “The Procedure.” While the doctor gets ready, Adrian has a disturbing dream sequence and decides that he cannot go through with the operation despite what it will cost him. He now knows having his voice heard is no longer an option, it is the thing he must do in order to be heard. It is what is necessary to say something is wrong. Adrian and Nadine go to Washington in order to protest “The Procedure.” However, the protest fails as both Nadine and Adrian are arrested. Upset, Jacob goes to the jail where Adrian is being held. Because of his immigration status, he is facing the threat of deportation. During his encounter with Jacob, Adrian, who began the play as clean cut, is now defiant. He informs his husband that the charges are “trumped up.” Due to his status as an immigrant, Adrian is facing deportation. However, Feldman (Richard Glucksberg) informs him that if he gets the implant, he will not be deported and they can fight the charges. Adrian is indignant, however Jacob, despite being distant at times from his husband, does not want to lose the one man he truly loves.This is followed by a short montage of everyone speaking various messages from the play whether they be his mother, the vignette actors, Jacob, his friend from Singapore and all other characters. That is when Adrian is defeated. The last scene of the play, in an emotional defeat, shows Adrian with a patch over his right eye. Adrian has gotten “The Procedure.” Adrian has sold out. This experience is a showcase to the unfortunate allegory that so many immigrants are forced to endure terrible hardships such as these in order to make it in America. A vision like this shows the American dream has a perverse darkside.Lastly, I would like to give a special attention to Sonia Nam, who’s attention to detail as an assistant director was on the mark. Each scene and lighting as well as sound choice added to the element that was achieved. Without the effort of good direction this entire piece would not have been conceivable let alone possible. However, this all came together with the brilliant writing and vision of Marcus Yi.
The Procedure is a work of sheer genius. There is no weak link among the cast. The writing is strong, evocative, funny, and truthful. It shows deep down we are all people who unfortunately categorize each other based on our outsides rather than our insides, and give into fear and prejudice when confronted with outside possibility. A true piece of old school agit prop mixed with modern flavor, The Procedure is a must see. 
Adrian losing and submitting the to American Dream/Lie

Basketcase (Green Day)

I have been feeling a lot lately. Things have been going the best I ever have. On the one hand, things are awesome. On the other hand, I have had some parts of my past just brought up. They are like an open wound seeping with hurt, especially when the salt is poured in.

There has been a part of my past that has just been thrown in my face in so many different ways. It wasn't a very nice part. I don't want to get into detail for once in my life. I just can't. Because of this part in my life I feel like I am the worst person in the world and unworthy of love in between being downright dirty. It's like I am always running from something or someone from my past. It's this invisible specter that keeps coming after me when I don't want it to.

Then again does it ever?

I hear my audiobook this week. I have the CDs. I am supposed to tell Archie where to put the music and if I like it. Yes, I know I spent a shitload of time on this project but I am scared to hear the final product. I cannot tell you why. If I don't listen to it, it's not real. And then I am supposed to be working on my website. Can't do it. If I design my website then it's not real. Of course the new May I ordered hasnt come in the mail yet. I know I should be losing my shit but I'm not actually. I just can't do anything. Actually I don't want to do anything.

I just want to sit on my couch and eat bon bons. Of course after I clean my house and do my laundry I want a letter from Obama. I know, entitled as shit.

I did some good shows this past weekend though. One good one in the morning in Port Jeff, and then an awesome show for kids at night in Yonkers. I logged like 12 miles in a single day. Crazy. Both were good shows though.  I actually really liked these kids a lot. I also got recognized by a fan. It's cool when I get recognized for being on TV. I'm still kind of getting used to it actually, even after all this time. It always makes my day. I mean, it is cool as hell. On the flipside, I am still April. I am gawky as hell. Awkward as hell.

I heard a new artist yesterday who was AWESOME by the name of Crystal Kay. I mean she was pretty and could sing which is rare. Every time I hear the word girl group I die a little inside, and every time I hear some Skankola McPhee call herself a singer I want to jump in front of a moving vehicle. But Crystal was HOTTTT AND COULD SING. That shit is rare. My only complaint was her tramping about in whore clothes. Actually I have nothing against her or her whore clothes. The whore clothes were cute. I could say my bitch is she sets my gender back several decades and pushes for the redefinition of rape by the Republicans. But that shit is crazy. I am just being catty because she looks better in those clothes than I ever could. Plus it is a nice throw back to the part of my past I want to forget. Without saying too much the ex fiance who used to hit me dated strippers and cheated with one that threw him a grand a week. It has nothing to do with this chick and none of this is her fault. I am nuts. I do love her music though.

If we ever do meet I will say, "Hi, I am April. Sorry in advance for anything catty I will say. But I do enjoy your music. You can write me off as crazy. Wait, I am sure you already have." And then I will have her jam stuck in my head.

Oh I have shit to do. Sigh McSigh Sigh


xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center

Shy

It's amazing how shy I am. People tell me I should be more confident when it comes to guys. Not in this century. Things have gotten slightly better with age. I am able to carry on a full conversation. I don't use liquid courage to tell a man how I feel only to be bitten in the ass again. I don't bring my puppets on dates. But it is hard as a brick of cement for me. Here is a poem about it. 

SHY When I see youI want to disappearAs Mindfreak doesBreaking out of the chained boxMy chained boxCalled woman
Let me show off my mindWhat a turn offLet me show off my loveOf history and literatureThat would be another turn offWith a side of rejection
Let me show off my hot bodyLike that beef cookieTalking your ear offHanging out of her shirtWhen we all knowA bunch of guys railroaded Miss Thing
So what she wore some man’s ring?I put her down in my mind because it feels betterAs she wears a tacky sweaterWhen really my big bitch Is that she is brave enough to Talk to you without tripping over her words
It’s more fun to slut shameWhen she only has a face and bodyAnd no name to go with my insultsAnd she is a scapegoat to my insecurityFrailty thy name is woman, Hamlet was wrong
Legally the name is CattyLegally the name is InsecureLegally Insane actuallyStamp thatSeal itI’ll be crying inside if you need me.
How absurd the things girls doTo make a man want usAnd how we run to youWhen I just can’tWith my feet of ledThat just wont move
I want to run into thin airDisappear and go for a swimIn the polluted East RiverI don’t want to drownJust swim into the AtlanticWhen the sharks eat me
I wont have to face youWhen you reject meI wont have to replace youAnd come up with a story about howI put my foot in my ever blessed mouthOnce again like I do every Friday
Of course I could be wrongMisreading the signalsIn my hormonal rushAnd your are my crush, crushingMy dreams, self worth, and self esteemIn my crazy head.
You already screwed this upCheated with the beef cookieDumped me like a load ofWet laundry and then burned my heartMaking me want to jump into the waterNever to be heard from again.
I already dumped you in my mindAm prancing fancy in a red convertibleWhere I am driving by as a successfulWoman who cannot be touched by the Sexuality and sensuality you possessAs I hide under my summer dress.
I don’t want to dieEven though this word objectifies meAnd puts me in a boxI kind of like myselfAnd the words I writeMy napalm and elixir against the world
I don’t want to dieI am bright and have a lot to sayEven if the men of the world take my voiceAway with one wink of an eyeIt’s not just being a basketcase
Welcome to the world of being shy. 

This Girl is on Fire (Alicia Keys)

I have been feeling a lot lately. The career is amazing, almost as if God Himself/Herself/Itsself ascended and gifted it to me. However I am having some deja vu and not in a good way. I have written about this a lot. When I was twenty one I found myself in a relationship with someone who was the textbook definition of a psychopath. He lacked empathy of any sort. Not to mention was verbally, physically, and emotionally abusive. During the course of the relationship I found my safety and well being threatened on several occasions. Not to mention he put everything I did down.

 I wasn't funny according to him, so I started dropping the ball with comedy. I couldn't act according to him, so I began to explore other career paths. Yes, they made me unhappy but it meant I was supporting him. Oh and his friends thought the ventriloquism was stupid and creepy so I gave that up too. He said me or the puppets. I chose him. My ex had been like Prince Charming when we met. It was flowers. It was presents from wherever he could pick them up off the street. Then one day I set him off and blamo. Suddenly this monster reared it's head. We fought. We made up. He promised to change. He never did for very long though. My ex tried to kill himself in front of me not once but twice. Instead of running away I felt sorry for him, and told myself if I stayed maybe he would get help and change. My ex threatened to kill his mother in order to get the insurance money to be with me. Instead of running I tried to get him to do things like get a job, but that never lasted for more than three days. My ex also choked me on one occasion and I nearly blacked out. I arrived to class with strangle marks around my neck and a bullshit story because he promised never to do it again. The list goes on.....

In the end, I can list all the shit things he did to me but I let him. I kept staying hoping it would change. In the end I picked him though. He never made a secret of the fact he was anti-social personality or borderline textbook definition. My ex got a psych discharge from the Navy and from what I gather he may have punched a commanding officer. Truth is, as I said, I picked him. I choose him. Maybe it was being young and stupid, hoping love could fix everything. Maybe it was lack of self-esteem and just wanting a boyfriend. I was all too willing to overlook everything because I was tired of being alone. Even when he shoved it in my face that the only reason I got into NYU was because my parents were "rich" and my dad was a lawyer. I let my whole disaster of a relationship happen, even when he isolated me from my friends and tried to take me away from my family. For as close as I am to my mother, I never let her know what was going on.

When things ended, I had a bunch of bad memories and a different mailing address as not to be found. I did things I thought would make it better. I drank too much and then some. I engaged in other stupid behaviors. I didnt eat cause why? Of course there were the diet pills that made me peppy as shit. I dated ex cons because nice guys were either scared of the fact my ex was totally nuts, or were turned off by the fact I was insane. The ex cons treated me well but they came with complications. Things were crazy, things were wild, but there was no way in hell anyone was ever gonna put a cattle brand on me again.

Then things got bad and I kind of cleaned up my act a tad. I began to talk about my ex in my act. The bits killed. I got on TV some. I wrote a book. I established a hell of a career after living through hell. I was doing okay, right? Not to mention my puppet babies and I became reunited.

Around the time my puppet children and I got on TLC, they highlighted that my ex made me choose between me and my puppets. It was the way it was edited I guess. In interviews I was honest, by ex was sick. I got fan letters from people telling me I made the right decision. When I opened up in interviews, I got fan letters from young women who told me how they had an ex who was similar. Suddenly it occurred to me I had a bigger function, to end dating violence and above all things to end bullying.

I remember one reporter for a magazine in London asked me if I had any photos of me and my ex. I said, "No, he used to hit me. I burned them."

I remember there was a dead silence on the phone as he whispered, "Sorry." It was almost as if she felt like she put her foot in her mouth by asking. Wasnt her fault though, how was she supposed to know there was more to the story without asking questions?

In my weekly webcasts I would share about my experience as someone who was bullied and someone who had come out of an abusive relationship. My followers rallied around me and I got the sense I was helping people which was cool. I came down like white rice on a paper plate in a snow storm when it came to men who kicked and slapped women around. In a lot of ways I fancied myself a feminine avenger of sorts. My mother had issues with this identity, but I was choosing the activist route by making myself as visible as possible. It was my way of letting young people know they deserved to be treated well regardless of class, gender, sexual orientation, etc. Again, I was okay, right?

A year ago I exploded online in a way I never imagined I would. It was around the Daniel Tosh time. To make a long story short, I found myself fighting online. The people I was fighting with werent enemies or people who hated me, but rather my own friends who were in my corner telling me to get a life. I remember appearing on a friend's radio show where a female caller told me if shit bothered me that much to just change the TV channel or to not purchase his album. She had also mentioned she had been raped once upon a time and was familiar with the angst I was feeling. The truth was, I was far from okay. In my quest to make the world a better place I knew there was a time to scream and shout. Also, there was a time to walk away, but also a time to laugh.

Around that time I got the opportunity to participate in a campaign about dating violence The campaign was going to have me with two black eyes and other scratch marks on my arms. I remember being repulsed at the thought. This was not the message I wanted to send to young women at all. I remember talking to my mom around that time and she said, "Well he never hit you, right?" And thats when I told her the truth. My mom, who was only known bits and pieces of why her daughter became an angry lunatic around that time said, "I will kill him. If I ever see him, I will kill him." During this phase it began to occur to me the way to make a difference was not to pronounce this identity in an aggressive sense but rather to keep doing well with my life.

That is when I got the fire under my ass to publish my book. Since then I have recorded my audiobook. Oh and my book is a part of the collection at Brown, NYU, and Mensa said it was a Must Read. Britney Spears also plugged me on her website. Huffington Post let me write a piece. Fans write me and want me and my puppets to make videos about them. You know the scoop. The best revenge is to live well.

The ex has also reached out several times in order to make amends, which leads me to believe he is part of a Twelve Step or Group Therapy Program of some sort. Getting the amends has made me less angry about that part in my life. It has also made me accept my part in the scheme of things, whether it was staying or picking fights in order to get a leg up myself. It has also made it easier for me to trust people. I thought about writing him back but my mom said it best, "April, your ex is someone who cannot respect you as a person, and he has shown you who he is. You are a fool to ever speak to him again." My mom was right and everyone around me has echoed the same sentiment. He cannot respect boundaries and has too many issues. I took the healthy step of blocking him. While I did that, at the same time I forgive him. He had a hellacious childhood and didnt know any better. Maybe he has found a Higher Power who is guiding him, giving him relief against his demons. I can only hope and pray God protects others from his anger, but most importantly, God protects him from himself.

In a lot of ways I am grateful I walked this path. Not only did I get my proverbial shit together, but I have served as a guide to others it will be okay. I also know it's alright to be alone, and never at any time do I have to tolerate bullying or harassment from anyone, male or female. I am confident and can stand on my own and dont need anyone to pay my way. Sometimes I am so strong I surprise myself. Then I retreat to my crying corner with my cookie dough like any woman in New York. Okay, I had to put a joke in cause this piece is a little heavy.

At the same time, Rambo is my dream man because we have a lot in common. One is that we live in a world that is not always tailor made for us. People don't always understand what it's like to come out of hell. When I used to explain to people what I had been through I would always get the "Get over it." Or better yet, "Why do you keep provoking your ex?" Yes, I asked to be used as a punching bag! Of course there are the occasions when I want to knock the fucking grill out of Lil Wayne's mouth, or go to the after life and kick Tupac where he really thinks. For the record I wouldn't be a woman, I would be a "bitch" on that occasion. And sometimes I wish like Rambo my dream man I came equipped with a flame thrower and could just torch every half naked Billboard of a woman and every strip club that marginalizes my gender. Or there are those times I have just screamed my head off at some asshole male who pushes me around because I am a woman, and not that big. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs because this all opens a door and gives men the thumbs up that women are meant to be used, abused, and treated as chattel.

On the flipside, I never get what I want when I go that route. With the rappers, it is all an act. I have a lot of rapper friends as a matter of fact. Plus if I yell and scream it gives Lil Wayne and his woman hating grill more publicity. While Tupac used the term bitch loosely, he also campaigned relentlessly for women. Strip clubs kept me employed as a publicity person once upon a time, and at the root of it they aren't evil people either. The world won't change because I have a bad day. The world won't change because I have issues. It will keep spinning and I have to learn to work with it which means I have to accept it. Yes, whether it is the gender marginalization I feel as a comedian and writer or in general. If I let it upset me too much I just get really angry, explode, and end up making an ass of myself.

However, I can make a change. I can be successful despite the fact comedy favors undeserving, good looking pretty boys from time to time. I can say my talent got me in the door and have staying power as their testosterone driven brand of basement humor dies. I can be grateful I came out of a bad phase of my life, and live every day to it's fullest. I can enjoy my friends and have an open, honest dialogue with my family. I can treat those around me with dignity and respect regardless of who they are. I can share my experience, strength and hope when the door opens for me to do so, making me visible to others who need to see/hear me. I can also speak on behalf of women's rights and vote according at the poles. Most importantly, I can know in my heart I deserve not only to be happy but to be treated well. Oh and I can keep my sanity without looking like a damn fool.

The other day I was on the train when two idiots who were seventeen were talking and referred to a girl they wanted to "bone" as a "thorough bread." There was a part of me that wanted to smack these two assholes to whatever shithole they came from and whatever thing bore them. Then I stopped myself. While I am tiny and it would have been funny as hell, these two morons were not worth a felony charge. Plus the tombs are not air conditioned in the summer. Plus if they spoke this way about women, one of two things was going to happen:

1. Some girl there own age would slap them. That is after they took her to McDonalds and made her pay.

2. They probably had no women and their only hope for love was living on their right hand and her name was Palmala Han Solo. She's Thai I suppose.

So yeah, I just have to keep moving and can't let the past cripple me. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is the present because it is a gift.

xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center

Important Links

Want to read more of my outside work. Yesterday I was featured front and center on the Huffington Post about my book. My parents said they were proud and my boss loved it. Take a gander right here.
Don't be afraid to leave me a comment xo http://www.huffingtonpost.com/april-brucker/

And look at me as Infinity Publishing's Author of the Week. Apparently, they are proud of all the great stuff I am doing. These days my book has been featured on the official website of Britney Spears, and a Must Read by Mensa. It is also available through Barnes and Noble as an ebook and paperback, plus it is also a part of the collection at NYU and Brown University Bookstores. Click here. http://blog.infinitypublishing.com/bloginfinitypublishingcom/bid/116307/Featured-Infinity-Author-of-the-Week-April-Brucker

Also, here is the link to my new love advice column with John Powers. Take a gander and ask us anything you want to know   https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Sex-from-Both-Sides/120533994691779?fref=ts

xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

Almost Famous

Lately things have been kinda crazy.  Two Fridays I found out I was on TV again. It was kind of cool to find out the OWN channel is still showing me and my puppet babies. I was like this is soo cool. Then that Monday I was on my way to tape something (more on that later) and this Spanish dude yells, "Are you April?"

I turned around. And then he said, "You are a youtube legend. I saw your clip on the Today Show. Do you have a puppet or something with you?" McAwesome. I did a mini show for him and his boy working at the car lot. Cool.

Middle of the week last week I found out I was on the tele overseas again. YIPEE!!! And then I made a fan video for a fan in Scotland. They showed it on the jumbotron in Glasgow. I was like, I McRock!

After that I was asked to write a piece for a biggie-more on that later. Oh and I was booked for a big family festival.

And then there was the good news about the NYU Bookstore and Infinity has made me their author of the month. Check it out here. http://blog.infinitypublishing.com/bloginfinitypublishingcom/bid/116307/featured-infinity-author-of-the-week-april-brucker

Oh and it gets better. I delivered a Yenta Sunday, and the girl I delivered it to was like, "I know you from somewhere." She thought I was an old student of hers, bless her heart. Anyway she kept insisting she knew me, but I had never seen her before. Whenever this stuff happens in my experience it means they have seen me on TV and are not making the connection. Usually they recognize my voice first which is pretty cool. But they don't know from where, and when we talk they make the connect which is so damn cool.

And then yesterday I was chilling with some old friends when one says, "I was sitting and chilling and saw you on Anthony Bourdain a year ago. I was like, 'Shit, there is April!' You had that gay puppet."

What can I say, my life is awesome. I am feeling a little tired but that goes with having a career. People expect you to do shit. I still have ways to go but I am further along than I thought I would ever be.

xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

Never Date a Sailor

Lots of women love a man in a uniform. It is something about authority that makes a gentlemen sexified from time to time. Not to mention he has tales of war and travel, as well as the fact he is automatically a hero in his our minds. Yes, the ultimate God in the Temple of Testosterone. However beware the sailor.

I didn't know about the sailor and his prowess to ruin a woman's life until it happened to my aunt. She met the man I will call Mick through my Nunni. My Nunni had fixed my mom and dad up, however over the years her skills had dissipated. So Nunni fixed my Aunt Rachael, who her entire life struggled with dyslexia and was self-conscious about it, with Mick the Navy man. So she moved to Virginia with Mick who was on constant probation with the Navy. Sometimes Mick would trick my Aunt Rachael into going on trips and he would get an AWOL. Of course he would then be in trouble and turn around blaming my aunt. At this point Aunt Rachael tried to work but couldn't keep a job because Mick would have all these trips planned and would get her fired. After that, it was revealed Mick had a woman in every port, and would shack up with some Pacific Island hottie because this squid in his pants and for him every week was shark week. My Aunt Rachael left him, and ended up dating his other buddy, a red neck named Ron who wanted to see the world with the Navy. Ron rushed my aunt into an engagement, and my grandparents spent their whole savings on the wedding. Well Mick saw my Aunt Rachael was happy, and he came rushing back. Aunt Rachael, who was seduced by Mick and his false promises, ran off with him to Hawaii. Ron found out and cancelled the wedding. My grandparents couldnt get their money back, so they had a party where they renewed their vowels. Needless to say, Aunt Rachael realized she made a mistake and began to pursue Ron again who told her he no longer loved her, he too had found some island hottie. Basically both these deadbeats ruined my aunt's life and I hope they burn in hell like a ship out of water.

I didn't think these morons were representive of all sailors until I started dating. My former fiance was a sailor. When we met he bragged about his time in the Navy and how he was proud of himself. Later, he admitted he was discharged because he suffered from depression. According to my ex, he had a high score on the ASVAP. Anyway, my ex said he was committed to the base psych hospital because things weren't going well and they let him go. From the things that came out later, it was revealed that as usual there was more to the story because sailors and liars are in the same boat. I think he may have tried to attack a commanding officer, I dunno. These are the pieces I gathered from what he told me. My ex also alluded to sleeping with a superior's wife. Either way I still have a seperate mailing address because of the psycho sailor I almost married.

After that, I had a brief fling with another former sailor who was still married. He lied and told me he was getting a divorce. Needless to say he never did because his wife was the breadwinner and he didnt want to work. So I sent that sailor out to sea.

Of course there was the former sailor who had been a cook in the Navy who claimed he had an open marriage. He told me about all the girls he banged back in the day in every port in the storm. As a result he and his wife had an open marriage. Needless to say, his wife was blissfully unaware of this, that is, until she paid me a nasty phone call. That ended our little tour around the world, ha ha.

After that came the sailor who still has a piece of my heart, Richie. He had been in the Navy for several years before being discharged. During his time around the world he had found drugs and had a heroin habit that took off soon after he left the Navy. Richie struggled to get clean and stay clean, but had a good heart. After some clean time he slipped and I had to say goodbye. Richie disappeared and proves my theory, that all sailors have a sea of issues.

Last on the list was the man I will refer to as Dead Beat Daddy. I met Dead Beat Daddy in my travels, and he joined the Navy and too traveled the world. However, he left out the fact he had two kids he didn't support and he also denied them. Oh and there was a third paternity claim against him. Yes, he was spreading his semen. LOL

So yes, sailors are disreputible. I shouldn't say that actually. My Pop Pop was in the Navy in WW II. Then again, my Pop Pop was an OFFICER and these are ENLISTED MEN. That is like Harvard as compared to Community College.

Anyway, no more sailors ladies. They will ruin your life.

Love
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

Catch My Fall (Billy Idol)

This past week was a good week, and last night was a good night. That is, until I decided to take a cab home. My reasoning was that my umbrella was breaking and there was no way I was making it to the subway without getting completely soaked to my bones. Plus I had a little money in my pocket, kind of. I hail this one cab down and I get in. However my umbrella is broken. Instead of being kind to me seeing that I am desperate and soaked to the bone, he begins to berate me.
The cabbie says, "You are getting my seat wet!" I try to explain to this piece of shit with some accent from no where and some island that probably allows him to treat women like chattel that my umbrella is broken. Asshole McFuckhead begins losing his shit on me. I calmly try to explain my umbrella is broken because the thing is cheap as shit, probably like the palm tree hut his family used to live in. Of course they didn't teach him manners. Assweed.....
Finally, we agree I am turning my umbrella a certain way so I don't drench his seat. Maybe Asshole McFuckhead has calmed himself. What a bully. I knew in my heart if I were a man he would have never spoken to me like this. He probably thought because I was a white woman he could treat me in such a disrespectful way. There are some people who yes, assume that white people have money because they are white. If they could see my bank statements they would see they were very wrong. As we rode I hoped the next interaction we had could be peaceful. I was still in a relatively good mood and didn't want to fight with this man who obviously didn't have a green card. However, I don't like bullies, especially men who bully women. Note, this has nothing to do with his color or the third world shit hole he came from so much as it does the fact he thought he could push me around cause I was a lady. As I fumed in my mind, I beat him like a rented mule with my broken umbrella. That would throw his dumb, woman hating ass for a loop.
We finally got to my street. Okay. That is when I go to pay the fucker. Part of me didnt want to tip. After all, he had been awfully mean to a poor little girl like myself. Just then he snaps, "That is not how you pay with the credit card. Are you stupid?"
This is how the exchange went:
Me: Listen Asshole McFuckhead, you have been nothing but a jerkoff since I have stepped into your cab. Don't fucking tell me how to pay with a credit card. You obviously have some issues with women. I am ordinarily kind but I am not tipping your ass. 
Asshole McFuckhead: What! I have not spoken to you since you got in my cab. I don't know what you are talking about?
Me: Yes, you were rude to me when I stepped in. I don't like men who bully women. 
Asshole McFuckhead: What? You got my seat wet. I can't have that.
Me: Well have a good night you piece of shit and suck my dick, you hear?!
Okay, not the most educated reply but he has pushed me. I am out of the taxi and mad as hell. That is when Asshole McFuckhead begins slowly driving behind me laughing. I turn around and give him the motion to suck it. If this moron wants to bring it he can. I used to fight with a former fiance who was twice as big and three times as scary and would come out on top. Yes, I am talking macho shit but hey, guys do it all the time and so what I don't have the equipment to back myself up?
As Asshole McFuckhead is driving behind me and laughing, I am telling him to drive away or I will call the cops and the cops will believe me over his scummy ass. Of course this was right after I flicked him off again. Just as I was temped to run over to the car and deck him I heard a voice say, "Is there a problem here?"
Asshole McFuckhead, seeing that he might now have to face a man drove like a bat out of hell. I looked over and it was an old friend of mine from the neighborhood who I will call Cliff. As it was raining, Cliff let me share his umbrella and told me that the guy was a jerk. Cliff explained that he was raised not to talk to women like that, and not to let any man talk to a woman like that. I explained to Cliff that I wanted to beat the living piss out of the jerkoff, and Cliff assured me he wasn't worth a felony charge. Cliff gave me a big hug, bought me a cup of coffee, and basically spent an hour talking my ass down from the high my anger had given me. 
I remember a friend of ours saw us and I told him what happened. This friend, an older gay man I will call Edwin, laughed and said, "You got into a fight with a cab driver? Well, welcome to New York." I laughed. It's what I needed to do.
I don't usually lose my shit like that, but sometimes I do. I think because this dude was such a bully, and as a woman who travels the world alone like Amelia Earhart I run into dudes who feel like they can push me around. Fuck that shit. Of course some of it was that I was bullied as a kid, and as someone who stands up for herself these days I don't like bullies. So I have to fight back. It's just a reflex. 
Cliff walked me home though, and let me know it was going to be alright. I slept well and jogged this morning putting the shiteous incident behind me. I suppose chivalry isn't dead. It is just in a coma. 
LoveI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace