April E. Brucker's Blog, page 52
May 17, 2013
The Ocean
Right now I am at the beach. That is why I have been a little plugged out. I needed some time to detox. There has been a lot going on with my book-good stuff-but I want the answer now. Granted all packages were mailed to Cali and it takes a week yet still, I want to know the answer. I am a little bummed Madame Cleo is out of business. Of course God supposedly doesn't tell you straight away. He jiggles a plant or something. Buddah and Allah, they haven't appeared on this mission. What I am trying to say is I am a neurotic woman on the brink. Can't you tell? I know, my neuroses go well with my pearls. Ask all my old boyfriends.
Oh and I had some haterade drama that I will not even begin to describe.
Anyway I am at the beach with mi familia. Our big vacay for the summer. It's my sister, myself, and my parents. It's her big trip before the world is forced to call her doctor. It's our big trip before our book signing at Brown next week. And it's my big chance to get my brain together.
The nice thing about the ocean is that it is just is. It doesn't try to be anything else. Earlier this week I imagined being swept away. I mean, not dying, just plopped down to a desert island. That way I could shirk out of my responsibilities. Of course I would probably be eaten by a shark and that would totally suck so I thought screw that.
Then the anxiety returned. The beach ball in my stomach. What would my audiobook turn out like? Would the magazines say nice things about my book? Oh and I have a book signing at an Ivy League school and my mother is driving me crazy about the joint event I have planned with my siblings?
I began to think what if all these things failed. Where would I go? What would I do to hide? Why didn't I become a doctor like my sister? Damnit why can't I be Iron Man? That is when I get a phone call from a fan of mine. I end up telling this fan who I adore about how I have a lot of followers, 5k on one page, and then two more, and how I can't always talk to everyone. And then some get testy when I don't get back to them and blah de blah.
That is when my fan said, "You have been on TV, you have a book, and you have fans. You have it better than most people, April."
My fan was right. Although I am a whacko woman on the brink most of the time the work is finally starting to pay off. My twenties which were spent onstage whoring myself like a stripper, performing with my puppets in the street, dressing in costume for a living, and writing my first book in a dingy apartment with no air conditioning are starting to come to something. I have fans. Better than all those throwing haterade at me. No one likes those fools.
As I was on the beach with my mother in my bikini I lamented about how I had grown gender paranoid as of late with all the hatred coming from entitled male working comics who wanted to slam me, and bitch female comedians. My mom, who is magic like Jesus, but actually might be more awesome because she gave birth to me, says, "I used to think there was a strike against me because of my size (she's 4'11"), my age and being a woman. But I can go places guys can't and do things guys can't. I mean, why would I pay a few bucks to burp and fart and watch football when I can wear makeup, perfume, and have a good time?"
My mom is right.
I look out and see the ocean. It comes and it goes. It has fish. It is gentle and rough. But bottom line, it just is. At the end of the day sometimes you have to be like the ocean. You have to be where your feet are. You try your best and that is all you can do. Otherwise like any neurotic I build castles in the sky.
Why do that when you can build a castle in the sand? Adults do it. Kids do it. And it doesn't end up putting you in a straight jacket.
Love
AprilI 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
PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square
Oh and I had some haterade drama that I will not even begin to describe.
Anyway I am at the beach with mi familia. Our big vacay for the summer. It's my sister, myself, and my parents. It's her big trip before the world is forced to call her doctor. It's our big trip before our book signing at Brown next week. And it's my big chance to get my brain together.
The nice thing about the ocean is that it is just is. It doesn't try to be anything else. Earlier this week I imagined being swept away. I mean, not dying, just plopped down to a desert island. That way I could shirk out of my responsibilities. Of course I would probably be eaten by a shark and that would totally suck so I thought screw that.
Then the anxiety returned. The beach ball in my stomach. What would my audiobook turn out like? Would the magazines say nice things about my book? Oh and I have a book signing at an Ivy League school and my mother is driving me crazy about the joint event I have planned with my siblings?
I began to think what if all these things failed. Where would I go? What would I do to hide? Why didn't I become a doctor like my sister? Damnit why can't I be Iron Man? That is when I get a phone call from a fan of mine. I end up telling this fan who I adore about how I have a lot of followers, 5k on one page, and then two more, and how I can't always talk to everyone. And then some get testy when I don't get back to them and blah de blah.
That is when my fan said, "You have been on TV, you have a book, and you have fans. You have it better than most people, April."
My fan was right. Although I am a whacko woman on the brink most of the time the work is finally starting to pay off. My twenties which were spent onstage whoring myself like a stripper, performing with my puppets in the street, dressing in costume for a living, and writing my first book in a dingy apartment with no air conditioning are starting to come to something. I have fans. Better than all those throwing haterade at me. No one likes those fools.
As I was on the beach with my mother in my bikini I lamented about how I had grown gender paranoid as of late with all the hatred coming from entitled male working comics who wanted to slam me, and bitch female comedians. My mom, who is magic like Jesus, but actually might be more awesome because she gave birth to me, says, "I used to think there was a strike against me because of my size (she's 4'11"), my age and being a woman. But I can go places guys can't and do things guys can't. I mean, why would I pay a few bucks to burp and fart and watch football when I can wear makeup, perfume, and have a good time?"
My mom is right.
I look out and see the ocean. It comes and it goes. It has fish. It is gentle and rough. But bottom line, it just is. At the end of the day sometimes you have to be like the ocean. You have to be where your feet are. You try your best and that is all you can do. Otherwise like any neurotic I build castles in the sky.
Why do that when you can build a castle in the sand? Adults do it. Kids do it. And it doesn't end up putting you in a straight jacket.
Love
AprilI 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
PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square
May 16, 2013
Signing and Other News
Hey Poppy Seeds,
There is lotsa going on in my universe. Here are some important events:
1. Book signing at Brown University with Special Guests Brenna M. Brucker, MD and William J. Brucker, MD, PhD with PACE (Providence Alliance of Clinical Educators). I will be signing my book, I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl. They will be signing their eduational book. Yes, they are my older brother and baby sister. It is the only time you will ever see a semi-celeb and two mad scientists meet. It is Saturday, May 25, 2013 at the Brown University Bookstore from 4-6. My mother will even be there in a chicken suit. My aunt might even be dressed as a pickle. I am not kidding. Do you think I got this way on my own?
2. My audiobook will finally be done as far as editing goes in two weeks. Look for it on itunes and Audible this summer. Download it so I can be rich!
3. Gay Pride Weekend I will be part of the scavenger hunt and the winning team will recieve my book as a prize. I will also be on the trail. So boys who like boys, girls who like girls, our trans brothers and sisters and any member of the rainbow crew, look for me. However if you step out of line I will get one of the Dykes on Bikes to straighten you out. (Note: Pride is about loving who you are no matter who you love. All are welcome to attend).
4. Some big magazines and radio shows are interested in hosting me to talk about my book. We are talking within the next month. More on that later.
5. Some hot photos for my male fans coming soon. Don't worry boys, I didn't forget about you
xoxoxox
Love
AprilI 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
There is lotsa going on in my universe. Here are some important events:
1. Book signing at Brown University with Special Guests Brenna M. Brucker, MD and William J. Brucker, MD, PhD with PACE (Providence Alliance of Clinical Educators). I will be signing my book, I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl. They will be signing their eduational book. Yes, they are my older brother and baby sister. It is the only time you will ever see a semi-celeb and two mad scientists meet. It is Saturday, May 25, 2013 at the Brown University Bookstore from 4-6. My mother will even be there in a chicken suit. My aunt might even be dressed as a pickle. I am not kidding. Do you think I got this way on my own?
2. My audiobook will finally be done as far as editing goes in two weeks. Look for it on itunes and Audible this summer. Download it so I can be rich!
3. Gay Pride Weekend I will be part of the scavenger hunt and the winning team will recieve my book as a prize. I will also be on the trail. So boys who like boys, girls who like girls, our trans brothers and sisters and any member of the rainbow crew, look for me. However if you step out of line I will get one of the Dykes on Bikes to straighten you out. (Note: Pride is about loving who you are no matter who you love. All are welcome to attend).
4. Some big magazines and radio shows are interested in hosting me to talk about my book. We are talking within the next month. More on that later.
5. Some hot photos for my male fans coming soon. Don't worry boys, I didn't forget about you
xoxoxox
Love
AprilI 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
May 13, 2013
Helena (The Misfits)
The Native Americans used to have a term for negative people. They called them spirit snatchers. Essentially, when dealing with this person they sucked your spirit and for the rest of the day you were angry or annoyed for no reason. Answer these people took your energy. We all know a spirit snatcher. We have crossed paths with them. We have all fallen victim. It's like the day is sunny and then all of a sudden there is the black cloud and that person appears. No responsibility or accountability, just it's everyone else's fault. Always some crisis. You know what I'm saying.
A few years ago there was a woman I performed with. Her hair was dyed this terrible pineapple color and she always had some crisis. Usually these involved sleeping with older, male headliners for stage time. She always had some sob story and as a bi-product got stage time from these guys. I saw through the sob story right away. In addition, this woman also had a story about how her father molested her in some fashion and went so far as to carry around the incest literature, reading it at the bar. While incest is a real thing and it is terrible, this chick was really playing the Lifetime violin hard. We did a show and while I was in the same room she stole my joke. Sure the joke wasn't that special but she had done shows with me before. She knew that was mine. I said something to a friend and he said, "Go easy, her dad touched her." Oops so that gives her the right to be an asshole. This was back in the days when Jack Daniels and I were besties and usually I had to fortify myself before tolerating this mess. Needless to say eighteen months later, she totally recanted her tales of her dad molesting her saying he was the greatest guy in the world. That is also around the time Jack Daniels and I ended our love affair. She became harder to deal with and now when I see her I don't talk to her. I just can't. It's always some manipulative tale of lies and deception for self-gain. Not to mention she just pisses me off. Oh and she twists it around to anyone that will listen about how I don't like her and says it is for no reason. Yes Bitch, I don't like you. But we both know why. Anyone with a brain doesn't.
Of course another person I have met in my travels is some woman who claims to be a relation to someone famous and that is all I will say. Supposedly, she grew up poor but lived in a swanky section of Florida in a condo. I don't know. Anyway, she is one of those people who is your friend to your face but behind your back will stab you when you aren't looking. Not to mention she just likes to start things between people. Another friend of mine got divorced and had a fling with this thing before meeting his current gal pal of three years. So when this thing meets his girlfriend she tells him about this sexual tryst they had. How is this appropriate? Anyway, I had a few run ins with this thing. On not one but several occasions she has come into a hang out drunk off of her mind and tried to start crap with me by calling me a slut and such. Meanwhile, her legs open and close more frequently than a pair of scissors. I usually avoid her because my first impulse is to punch her and she isn't worth a felony charge. But I came close a few months ago when a girl who was a roomie of a friend of ours unknowingly slept with a total ladies man and got her heart broken. This nut told everyone in the bar. As someone who had an absentee father who disses her you think she would have been sympathetic to someone having a bad day? No, once a manipulative shunt always a manipulative shunt. So I avoid her as well. Plus some of her closest besties have dissed me rather publically on gossip sites. Not good for the mental health of the AB. Why go there when you can have peace and serenity?
Spirit snatchers aren't always nasty people. Sometimes they are just a mess of McDrama that keeps growing. One in particular was an old friend of mine who had a husband that she was unhappy with. So instead of telling him how she felt she started having an affair with another dude. I was her friend through this Tom Foolery and we often had girl's nights out where she told me about both men. And then it got worse. The dude she was having an affair with started calling me to tell me about the affair because I knew him, and he started to make a play for me. The sob story he concocted was that his wife had no vagina therefore he couldn't have sex with her. I knew this was bullshit but my buddy bought it hook, line, and sinker. Well the end came when her husband and I crossed paths and he started giving me info too. Dealing with these three freakshows was making me a homicidal maniac. Woman who is married to one man but in love with the other but won't leave. Then there was creepo who lies about his wife having no vagine. And add in idiot husband who keeps taking her back. Oh and she was also being evicted. Maybe if she would have started charging the other guy.....But still, eventually I had to end this crap. I wanted to murder all three of them. If they put the energy they did into their careers as they did into their lives they would all be stars. This friend and I have reconnected and she and her husband have worked through their issues and the other guy is no more. However, it is on a limited basis. Once you see that side of someone there is no going back.
And then in the spirit snatcher category there is just the other category of entitled. A few years ago I was friends with this guy on an online site for comedians. He was pretty supportive and nice. Then he got into a relationship, moved cross country, and got dumped. When he returned to the city he expected things to start happening for him again and they didn't. Things had changed and people had moved on. He was no longer the great "I am." Anyway, during this time I got some momentum with my career and was getting better gigs, gigs he felt entitled to. So any chance he got he would start things with me online. Sometimes he would correct my grammar, sometimes he would slam a job I got, and he would call me names for the way I promoted myself. In addition, he took cheap shots at my puppetry skills, etc. Well, I got a TV show and guess who was on the message board dissing me front and center? Yeah....So basically after that I blocked him online and said I was done with his ass. A few months later some people who saw him live wrote me and said they saw my videos, and he sucked so bad they wished they would have had me there instead. Just proof God hates the same things I do. This goes to show you that it is a pleasant lesson that life owes doesn't owe anyone anything. Clarence Darrow may have won The Scopes Monkey Trial, but that didn't mean his next case was handed to him. I always see this dude walking through my hood with an angry look on his face and his fists clenched. Maybe if he stopped blaming everyone else for his problems he just might have his career back.
Of course there is the dream killer. I once worked under this guy at a club who was a failed actor turned comedy club manager. My goal was to do the gig a bit and then move on once I got headliner spots or something better. It was a place to park my feet and work out my stuff. This dude I worked under would always tell me about how he wanted to be an actor but couldn't do it and how he was going to die alone. Oh and then he would force me to lie to the comedians walking in the door and say industry would be at the new talent shows when it in fact would not. He would always talk about how unfair the industry had been to him and such. This was not an easy gig. Most of the time this dude was always trying to get me to stay. When I would try to advance my career he would tell me it wasn't happening and how he used to have the same dreams and just to give them up. Our last convo was when I was finally getting ready to leave for real. I had just gotten a ton of national TV time-and they did too through me-and I was still being worked like a dog. This dude said, "Sometimes in life we just have to settle. Your career isn't going to be what you want it to be." I was like, you are old. You can settle. I was going to quit but they fired me instead which was a fucking relief. Needless to say not only did I decide not to settle, but I have never regretted the outcome.
In that category add unhealthy relationships. When I was twenty one I found myself embroiled with someone who was emotionally, mentally, and sometimes even physically abusive. This dude would tell me he loved me one minute and then the next be telling me how much something I did sucked. Sometimes he hated the way I wore my hair. Sometimes he hated my cooking. Oh and he would tell me how weird his friends thought I was and how they didn't like me. But the next minute he would be cleaning my room or writing me a poem so I was always sucked back in. There were times this dude would insult me in public in front of his friends whether he was telling me I needed breast implants or that my puppets were just weird and no one liked them. And then of course according to him, because he helped me with three jokes, he wrote my entire standup act. The second I would try to do anything without him he would convince me that I couldn't do it. In between the constant putting me down and everything else I began to lose my self-worth. When I would try to leave he would threaten suicide and even attempted it twice in front of me. I was so consumed that I was too tired to live the rest of my life. Oh and he never had any money therefore I had to front the bill everytime. When I decided to leave he started stalking me and I had to get a different mailing address. I am glad I left though. Not only did I get my confidence in myself back, but I got my puppets back too. My mom told me that when I was with him I was angry all the time and when I left him she got her daughter back so to speak. I am grateful there was still a part of my spirit that wasnt taken that just decided enough was enough. Since that time I have never let a man bully me, and I also took a look at my part in things about why I decided to stay as long as I did. And I am happy to say I never did it again.
More generally, I have experience the spirit snatching through comedian road trips. It always starts off as someone bringing up someone and then everyone starts dissing everyone. Some regard it is as past time. I regard it as a waste of breath. Often times that person is someone doing well and on track. These gossipers often cry, "Not fair." I have met the subject of the gossip from time to time and not only found what was being said not true, but actually found myself liking the butt of the bullying by words much more than my riding companions. Some of these subjects of idle gossip have stepped up to defend me when I was being torn to shreds by others. I have always wanted to say to these morons, maybe if you concentrated on your own game you would be successful too. Maybe if you stopped buying into the excuseolgy and victimology then you would be doing well. We make our own luck in this world. We are all responsible for our own happiness.
If you find yourself in constant contact with spirit snatchers it is time to ask yourself why you are letting these people in your life. I remember I went through a phase where it seemed I was being jumped by them at every corner. That is when I decided it was boundary time.
Here are some suggestions I got to combat these spirit snatching sons/daughters of bitches who taught them no better:
1. Wear a watch. That way when they begin to snatch your spirit with their bullshit you can say you have somewhere to go. Even if it is just the Toot 'n' Scoot. You don't have to specify. Your goal is not to spare their feelings but to save your sanity. They won't take it personally, in a minute they will find a new target.
2. Change the subject. If you are trapped in a car or a space with this person it can be harder. But if you change the subject to something general like sports the gossip or hate speech can stop.
3. Say, "I don't want to know." When they start telling you about their McDrama and you feel your brain leaking, you are welcome to say you don't want to know. Keep repeating it until they get it. Again, they will find someone else and you will get to keep your sanity.
4. Make the excuse that you need to go out and smoke. Even if you aren't a smoker, it gets you away from the entity temporary sucking your soul and you can take a few breaths and get your sanity back.
5. Cut them out completely. If you have the option this works best. Don't pick up the phone when they call. When you see them on the street run the other way. Even if you aren't having a bad day, after seeing them you will
Also, surround yourself with positive people doing positive things. Stick with the winners, they people who have what you want. Make friends and take lovers that while they will tell you when you are being a jerkoff and give you honest feedback, also will make you feel good about yourself and value you as a person.
Sigh....I know this is long but I had words to say, yo
LoveAprilI 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
A few years ago there was a woman I performed with. Her hair was dyed this terrible pineapple color and she always had some crisis. Usually these involved sleeping with older, male headliners for stage time. She always had some sob story and as a bi-product got stage time from these guys. I saw through the sob story right away. In addition, this woman also had a story about how her father molested her in some fashion and went so far as to carry around the incest literature, reading it at the bar. While incest is a real thing and it is terrible, this chick was really playing the Lifetime violin hard. We did a show and while I was in the same room she stole my joke. Sure the joke wasn't that special but she had done shows with me before. She knew that was mine. I said something to a friend and he said, "Go easy, her dad touched her." Oops so that gives her the right to be an asshole. This was back in the days when Jack Daniels and I were besties and usually I had to fortify myself before tolerating this mess. Needless to say eighteen months later, she totally recanted her tales of her dad molesting her saying he was the greatest guy in the world. That is also around the time Jack Daniels and I ended our love affair. She became harder to deal with and now when I see her I don't talk to her. I just can't. It's always some manipulative tale of lies and deception for self-gain. Not to mention she just pisses me off. Oh and she twists it around to anyone that will listen about how I don't like her and says it is for no reason. Yes Bitch, I don't like you. But we both know why. Anyone with a brain doesn't.
Of course another person I have met in my travels is some woman who claims to be a relation to someone famous and that is all I will say. Supposedly, she grew up poor but lived in a swanky section of Florida in a condo. I don't know. Anyway, she is one of those people who is your friend to your face but behind your back will stab you when you aren't looking. Not to mention she just likes to start things between people. Another friend of mine got divorced and had a fling with this thing before meeting his current gal pal of three years. So when this thing meets his girlfriend she tells him about this sexual tryst they had. How is this appropriate? Anyway, I had a few run ins with this thing. On not one but several occasions she has come into a hang out drunk off of her mind and tried to start crap with me by calling me a slut and such. Meanwhile, her legs open and close more frequently than a pair of scissors. I usually avoid her because my first impulse is to punch her and she isn't worth a felony charge. But I came close a few months ago when a girl who was a roomie of a friend of ours unknowingly slept with a total ladies man and got her heart broken. This nut told everyone in the bar. As someone who had an absentee father who disses her you think she would have been sympathetic to someone having a bad day? No, once a manipulative shunt always a manipulative shunt. So I avoid her as well. Plus some of her closest besties have dissed me rather publically on gossip sites. Not good for the mental health of the AB. Why go there when you can have peace and serenity?
Spirit snatchers aren't always nasty people. Sometimes they are just a mess of McDrama that keeps growing. One in particular was an old friend of mine who had a husband that she was unhappy with. So instead of telling him how she felt she started having an affair with another dude. I was her friend through this Tom Foolery and we often had girl's nights out where she told me about both men. And then it got worse. The dude she was having an affair with started calling me to tell me about the affair because I knew him, and he started to make a play for me. The sob story he concocted was that his wife had no vagina therefore he couldn't have sex with her. I knew this was bullshit but my buddy bought it hook, line, and sinker. Well the end came when her husband and I crossed paths and he started giving me info too. Dealing with these three freakshows was making me a homicidal maniac. Woman who is married to one man but in love with the other but won't leave. Then there was creepo who lies about his wife having no vagine. And add in idiot husband who keeps taking her back. Oh and she was also being evicted. Maybe if she would have started charging the other guy.....But still, eventually I had to end this crap. I wanted to murder all three of them. If they put the energy they did into their careers as they did into their lives they would all be stars. This friend and I have reconnected and she and her husband have worked through their issues and the other guy is no more. However, it is on a limited basis. Once you see that side of someone there is no going back.
And then in the spirit snatcher category there is just the other category of entitled. A few years ago I was friends with this guy on an online site for comedians. He was pretty supportive and nice. Then he got into a relationship, moved cross country, and got dumped. When he returned to the city he expected things to start happening for him again and they didn't. Things had changed and people had moved on. He was no longer the great "I am." Anyway, during this time I got some momentum with my career and was getting better gigs, gigs he felt entitled to. So any chance he got he would start things with me online. Sometimes he would correct my grammar, sometimes he would slam a job I got, and he would call me names for the way I promoted myself. In addition, he took cheap shots at my puppetry skills, etc. Well, I got a TV show and guess who was on the message board dissing me front and center? Yeah....So basically after that I blocked him online and said I was done with his ass. A few months later some people who saw him live wrote me and said they saw my videos, and he sucked so bad they wished they would have had me there instead. Just proof God hates the same things I do. This goes to show you that it is a pleasant lesson that life owes doesn't owe anyone anything. Clarence Darrow may have won The Scopes Monkey Trial, but that didn't mean his next case was handed to him. I always see this dude walking through my hood with an angry look on his face and his fists clenched. Maybe if he stopped blaming everyone else for his problems he just might have his career back.
Of course there is the dream killer. I once worked under this guy at a club who was a failed actor turned comedy club manager. My goal was to do the gig a bit and then move on once I got headliner spots or something better. It was a place to park my feet and work out my stuff. This dude I worked under would always tell me about how he wanted to be an actor but couldn't do it and how he was going to die alone. Oh and then he would force me to lie to the comedians walking in the door and say industry would be at the new talent shows when it in fact would not. He would always talk about how unfair the industry had been to him and such. This was not an easy gig. Most of the time this dude was always trying to get me to stay. When I would try to advance my career he would tell me it wasn't happening and how he used to have the same dreams and just to give them up. Our last convo was when I was finally getting ready to leave for real. I had just gotten a ton of national TV time-and they did too through me-and I was still being worked like a dog. This dude said, "Sometimes in life we just have to settle. Your career isn't going to be what you want it to be." I was like, you are old. You can settle. I was going to quit but they fired me instead which was a fucking relief. Needless to say not only did I decide not to settle, but I have never regretted the outcome.
In that category add unhealthy relationships. When I was twenty one I found myself embroiled with someone who was emotionally, mentally, and sometimes even physically abusive. This dude would tell me he loved me one minute and then the next be telling me how much something I did sucked. Sometimes he hated the way I wore my hair. Sometimes he hated my cooking. Oh and he would tell me how weird his friends thought I was and how they didn't like me. But the next minute he would be cleaning my room or writing me a poem so I was always sucked back in. There were times this dude would insult me in public in front of his friends whether he was telling me I needed breast implants or that my puppets were just weird and no one liked them. And then of course according to him, because he helped me with three jokes, he wrote my entire standup act. The second I would try to do anything without him he would convince me that I couldn't do it. In between the constant putting me down and everything else I began to lose my self-worth. When I would try to leave he would threaten suicide and even attempted it twice in front of me. I was so consumed that I was too tired to live the rest of my life. Oh and he never had any money therefore I had to front the bill everytime. When I decided to leave he started stalking me and I had to get a different mailing address. I am glad I left though. Not only did I get my confidence in myself back, but I got my puppets back too. My mom told me that when I was with him I was angry all the time and when I left him she got her daughter back so to speak. I am grateful there was still a part of my spirit that wasnt taken that just decided enough was enough. Since that time I have never let a man bully me, and I also took a look at my part in things about why I decided to stay as long as I did. And I am happy to say I never did it again.
More generally, I have experience the spirit snatching through comedian road trips. It always starts off as someone bringing up someone and then everyone starts dissing everyone. Some regard it is as past time. I regard it as a waste of breath. Often times that person is someone doing well and on track. These gossipers often cry, "Not fair." I have met the subject of the gossip from time to time and not only found what was being said not true, but actually found myself liking the butt of the bullying by words much more than my riding companions. Some of these subjects of idle gossip have stepped up to defend me when I was being torn to shreds by others. I have always wanted to say to these morons, maybe if you concentrated on your own game you would be successful too. Maybe if you stopped buying into the excuseolgy and victimology then you would be doing well. We make our own luck in this world. We are all responsible for our own happiness.
If you find yourself in constant contact with spirit snatchers it is time to ask yourself why you are letting these people in your life. I remember I went through a phase where it seemed I was being jumped by them at every corner. That is when I decided it was boundary time.
Here are some suggestions I got to combat these spirit snatching sons/daughters of bitches who taught them no better:
1. Wear a watch. That way when they begin to snatch your spirit with their bullshit you can say you have somewhere to go. Even if it is just the Toot 'n' Scoot. You don't have to specify. Your goal is not to spare their feelings but to save your sanity. They won't take it personally, in a minute they will find a new target.
2. Change the subject. If you are trapped in a car or a space with this person it can be harder. But if you change the subject to something general like sports the gossip or hate speech can stop.
3. Say, "I don't want to know." When they start telling you about their McDrama and you feel your brain leaking, you are welcome to say you don't want to know. Keep repeating it until they get it. Again, they will find someone else and you will get to keep your sanity.
4. Make the excuse that you need to go out and smoke. Even if you aren't a smoker, it gets you away from the entity temporary sucking your soul and you can take a few breaths and get your sanity back.
5. Cut them out completely. If you have the option this works best. Don't pick up the phone when they call. When you see them on the street run the other way. Even if you aren't having a bad day, after seeing them you will
Also, surround yourself with positive people doing positive things. Stick with the winners, they people who have what you want. Make friends and take lovers that while they will tell you when you are being a jerkoff and give you honest feedback, also will make you feel good about yourself and value you as a person.
Sigh....I know this is long but I had words to say, yo
LoveAprilI 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
May 12, 2013
love me or lothe me, you want to disrobe me.....LOL
love me or lothe me, you want to disrobe me.....LOL
Woman on the Brink
Just a poem.....
Here I amAlone in my roomThey say I should feel the Walls closing in, doomCause there is no man in my bed
I opted for the career insteadDidn’t you hear them?Yell and cheer as I took the stageAnd was the rage to an audience that adoredNow I am alone again
I have my coffee cup in my handMordechai the Magic Mouse runs byI can’t catch him if I trySo what his shit has dander?He’s the man of the house (although a mouse).
There is no baby in my houseNo life in my wombI am as barren as the fields after a droughtSo here I am I shout, “Attention world,I flunked the test of life according to some assholes!”
There is no husband in my bedNo man to screw with my headTelling me all the things I want to hearInstead of the fact he is fucking aroundWith his boys on poker night
It is okay, it is alrightGirlfriends come and goThe Bible should say soThat women will sacrifice their girlfriendsLike errant sheep, blood and guts, for a man
The Bible should say in fine printThat women will stab you in the backWhen it comes to a man and throw away her dreamsAnd I will be Goddamned if that is meThrowing my dreams away
Words are my napalmThe thing to relieve the painOf shallow standards thatErode my psyche like acid rainSmart and beautiful, you can’t be both, right?
There was a man who came one fall dayTried to take what I loved awayMade me chooseAs he sucked down his booze and Used me as his punching bag
I am not a rag to wipe up spitI am not a shrink to take your shitI am an independent womanI am rolling with the best of themI am taking my hits standing like all the men
Sometimes I yell and screamSometimes I crySometimes I speak too soonBut I stand my groundAnd will never let anyone take me down
(Okay, I sound almost like I am holding it together)
My Mama is Magic
My mom is awesome. She is the shiznit. Most people will claim this about their mom's but in my case it is true. There have been times when I thought my mom would become totally lame but she surprised me by being completely and utterly with it.
When I was fifteen we were moving a relative of mine and her husband to their house. We had to go to their condo to collect their belongings. Anyway, this particular aunt is as sweet as they come but she has a tendency not just to date the biggest losers but to marry them. My aunt's husband had just quit his job at the post office an was now trying to make a living with his salsa recipe. While this was a whim and a prayer, it was more like the devil because not only did the salsa suck, but when he went to deliver it the jars exploded. Translated: botulism.
Note: Most recently, my aunt's husband was arrested for public drunkenness at the library. His biggest scam, due to his little drug problem, was telling people he has Parkinson's Disease in order to get medicinal marijuana and other drugs at the mercy of the drug dealer. Well he doesn't quite realize that when you do that, you can't just take a break from doing the shake, rattle, and roll to run a road race. No, you got to stick with it. If you are going to be a dickhead go for it with all the gusto you have in the world. Well he was at the library with his dog, and by the way he was telling people it was his therapy dog. So while he was on the computer trying to get chicks and possibly sent to do an errand for my book-I am a rap star-he was arrested. Oh an it made the local paper. I want to be a fly on the wall when he is arraigned but back to my mom.
Anyway he moved them out and it took longer than usual cause my aunt's husband had to go back and get more of his belongings. My mom, curious, got out of the car to see what my uncle was getting. She gets back in the car, shakes her head, an begins swearing.
This is how the conversation went between my mom and I:
Me: Mom, why are you so upset?
Mom: You know what the big hold up is? Your uncle had to go back and retrieve his Playboy collection.
Me: What?
My mom nods
Mom: I don't know what a married man is doing with one of those. When you get married it is no more Playboy time. Your father doesn't feel the need for a Playboy collection.
Me: Mom, I wouldn't want to know if dad had a Playboy collection.
Mom: Well I mean, you know what guys do with a Playboy collection, right April?
I nod.
Mom: I mean, I look at your uncle and I look at the Playboy collection. Five boxes. Five! April, frankly I think that if any of those women were to meet your uncle in real life they would keep their clothes on forever. I mean, he is such a pathetic, pot smoking loser wimp. I am just thankful I am married to a man. Your uncle probably can't even get it up. As a matter of fact, his sex drive is probably like this.
My mom takes her pinky, starts to wiggle it, and then points it downward towards her hand making a squashing sound
Mom: Duh, duh, duh.
My mom and I start laughing
Me: It's too bad we have to behave when we get to their house
Mom: Shit everyone's leaving. And you're right, you have to behave when you get to their house
I make a similar motion with my pinky and my mom laughs.
We drive off
LoveAprilI 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
When I was fifteen we were moving a relative of mine and her husband to their house. We had to go to their condo to collect their belongings. Anyway, this particular aunt is as sweet as they come but she has a tendency not just to date the biggest losers but to marry them. My aunt's husband had just quit his job at the post office an was now trying to make a living with his salsa recipe. While this was a whim and a prayer, it was more like the devil because not only did the salsa suck, but when he went to deliver it the jars exploded. Translated: botulism.
Note: Most recently, my aunt's husband was arrested for public drunkenness at the library. His biggest scam, due to his little drug problem, was telling people he has Parkinson's Disease in order to get medicinal marijuana and other drugs at the mercy of the drug dealer. Well he doesn't quite realize that when you do that, you can't just take a break from doing the shake, rattle, and roll to run a road race. No, you got to stick with it. If you are going to be a dickhead go for it with all the gusto you have in the world. Well he was at the library with his dog, and by the way he was telling people it was his therapy dog. So while he was on the computer trying to get chicks and possibly sent to do an errand for my book-I am a rap star-he was arrested. Oh an it made the local paper. I want to be a fly on the wall when he is arraigned but back to my mom.
Anyway he moved them out and it took longer than usual cause my aunt's husband had to go back and get more of his belongings. My mom, curious, got out of the car to see what my uncle was getting. She gets back in the car, shakes her head, an begins swearing.
This is how the conversation went between my mom and I:
Me: Mom, why are you so upset?
Mom: You know what the big hold up is? Your uncle had to go back and retrieve his Playboy collection.
Me: What?
My mom nods
Mom: I don't know what a married man is doing with one of those. When you get married it is no more Playboy time. Your father doesn't feel the need for a Playboy collection.
Me: Mom, I wouldn't want to know if dad had a Playboy collection.
Mom: Well I mean, you know what guys do with a Playboy collection, right April?
I nod.
Mom: I mean, I look at your uncle and I look at the Playboy collection. Five boxes. Five! April, frankly I think that if any of those women were to meet your uncle in real life they would keep their clothes on forever. I mean, he is such a pathetic, pot smoking loser wimp. I am just thankful I am married to a man. Your uncle probably can't even get it up. As a matter of fact, his sex drive is probably like this.
My mom takes her pinky, starts to wiggle it, and then points it downward towards her hand making a squashing sound
Mom: Duh, duh, duh.
My mom and I start laughing
Me: It's too bad we have to behave when we get to their house
Mom: Shit everyone's leaving. And you're right, you have to behave when you get to their house
I make a similar motion with my pinky and my mom laughs.
We drive off
LoveAprilI 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
May 11, 2013
Making Peace With Miss Perfect
Yesterday I finally got off my ass and stopped procrastinating. Yes, procrastination is sloth in five syllables. I had every excuse in the world not to clean my bunker. As a working woman, no not a hooker, I run around all the time earning paper. Then of course there are my club dates and the puppets thrown about making me an errant mother. Thank goodness child welfare hasn't checked up on me. In between that I have been promoting a book-so there are times where there are my books lying next to me. When I wake up in the night my words haunt me just like they haunt Archie and Anthony who heard me read every Sunday. So why clean my house when I got that going on?
Did I mention I started on my musical?
I sort of had a resentment against having what is known as a clean house. When I was a kid my dad made us do room inspection. Every Saturday we were forced to clean. Being one of seven kids he never had his own room, so he wanted us to know not everyone did so to appreciate it. My brother usually flunked room inspection. This resulted in his Nintendo being taken away. Of course my sister passed this with flying colors like she does everything in life. I threw everything under the bed and hoped for the best. My closet was unavailable. This was because my brother was on thin ice with my dad and hid his dirty clothes and stuff in there. It was because my closet was huge and one could do that. Needless to say if there was a monster under my bed or in my closet he probably was seeing some pretty interesting things.
I grew resentful at room inspection and I think became a clutter bug out of spite. Being creative sort of does that to people I suppose. I was never neat and orderly to begin with. At school the girls with the best hand writing always sort of annoyed me. They were perfect. They had the perfect little bodies whereas I struggled with my weight. They said the perfect things in class whereas I am convinced I was smarter than some of my teachers and showed it from time to time. They wanted to be the perfect little housewives even at a young age and I didnt see time for it. I wrote stories. I wrote songs with my friends at recess. When I saw a movie on TV I knew in my heart I could do that too. These perfect little girls were just thorns in my side.
The worst was when the Miss Perfect Squad would gang up on me. This was during the handwriting contest. I always lost because my handwriting looks like that of a serial killer. It's not my fault, I just suck at handwriting, whereas these bitches just sucked at life. When I lost the handwriting competition they started making fun of me. I just remember thinking whatever, I am smarter. The next week my short story won the prize. It was a retarded tale about a cat catching a mouse. My dad was proud, and to get my dad to say something good is hard sometimes. You see, my pops wasn't the kind of dad who told me I was pretty and special and all that happy horse shit. Hell no. When I did badly on a test, my dad would look me in the eye and say, "Kid, you are sucking bottom." Then there would be a pause. And he would say, "But I am here sucking bottom with you." So that was his way of offering support.
When my story won the prize the Miss Perfect Squad was amazed. Their stories never won prizes, because writing involves depth aside from pink ribbons in ones hair. The amazement wore off in Middle School when my weight ballooned out of control and the acne came cropping in. This was one of those things where I knew I didnt look as good as some of these girls with good skin. It was painful and they didn't make my life easy. I told myself they would be choking on it one day.
As time went on I did what I set out to do with my life. I graduated, moved to the city, and pursued my dreams. I have been on TV a few times. Fans have recognized me in the street. I wrote and published a book that has been featured on The Official Website of Britney Spears. Did I mention my room was a mess when this happened?
In my travels the friends I have made have always been colorful. Some have been to jail. Some have worked as hustlers whether it be pimps, drug dealers, or hookers. Some have drama that could play out in Central Park during their summer season but do it with such gusto that I have to laugh. All are wonderful people who love me for who I am and for that I am gratefully blessed.
The tables have shifted over time in another way. On facebook I follow some of the Miss Perfects, the girls who had the good skin and the flawless cursive writing. Their lives aren't that perfect. Many have husbands who look great but really aren't there emotionally for them. A lot of them have kids and often post about the issues their children are having because their husbands are either that clueless or absent. In many of their words, a painful cry from suburbia, they are stressing about whether or not they are a good enough mother. They want to be the perfect mother to their kids just like they had the perfect skin and the perfect handwriting. And it kills them to see their children unhappy. Bottom line, they have problems too. Everyone does. While these people are easy to hate, bottom line, they are still people.
There is no such thing as perfect. Everyone has their gifts and weaknesses. Maybe I am good at writing stories, creating things, giving inanimate objects voices and of course making people laugh. However, these girls were good at handwriting and probably kept a clean room. If the world had too many of me no one would ever be able to find anything, and if the world had to many of them, it would be the planet of the Stepford Wives. Also, I have learned for as mean as some of them were to me not to knock their dreams. Some women only want to be wives and mothers and that is mine. My mom is good at both and I could never hold a candle to her. Hell, without my mom I wouldn't do the things I do let alone exist.
Over time I have done shows and delivered to Miss Perfects. Usually they aren't half bad. Most of the time they were people who had a check list when it came to life, and as long as that check list is making them happy I won't knock it. However, when shit hits the fan they never know what to do. That is when the Miss Perfects in my travels always reach out to me. I have had women write me fan letters, Miss Perfects on the outside, who told me they wished they could be like me. Some of them had terrible backstories. To them, the facade helps hide that pain. Sure I am more honest about who I am and where I have been. I have also done speaking panels with Miss Perfects, while I might not always agree with the clones of Elizabeth Hasselbeck, I think they add a variety to the perspective. Like anyone else they want to be treated with respect. While sometimes it is hard because again these girls made my life hell in school, I know that is more about the chip on my shoulder than it is about them. Most of the time these women didnt know me then. Why should it matter?
Ironically there are some people who assume my life is perfect. One is a young woman who pops up from time to time that struggles with drug addiction and mental illness that is sort of a nuisance. This troubled soul is the current girlfriend of an ex of mine who feels she is in competing with me even though I haven't spoken to my ex in years and don't want him back. She thinks I have never struggled because of the way I look. She believes my childhood was perfect because my dad was a lawyer. She believes I make up things about myself to make it seem I have depth. The sick thing is, she is such a victim she believes she had it worse than anyone and regularly broadcasts this on the internet. Yes sweetheart, you had your issues but don't we all? She didn't know me when my life was real shitty a few years ago and I was living off my laundry money. She didn't know me when my ex said, "Me or the puppets." She didn't know me when that ex's stalking made me get a different mailing address. She didn't know me during that hot summer when I wrote my book in the fourth floor walk up hot box I live in. She wasn't with me this past month when my grandmother died, my mom got injured in a freak accident, and the arrest of one of my drug addicted familial relations made the local paper. Yes, Virginia, Santa didn't bring me the perfect life for Christmas. There are some chinks in this armor. Granted, this young woman is severely disturbed but it is amazing how she just thinks I float along PERFECTLY!
There have been other comedians who assume that I just get things because I am a woman. Meanwhile being a woman I have had to deal with sleazy club owners and bookers who thought they could treat me and speak to me however they wanted. I have been bumped by jealous male comedians with more clout because they were angry my TV credits were recent and they bullied a junior producer. There have been comedians, men and women, who just assume I lie to get on TV. Or they think it is because I am young, perky and blonde. They don't see how hard I work. They aren't with me as I get rejected all the time. They aren't there to see me crying because I am so tired and overworked. But in their victimology they believe things are just handed to me. So I guess unfortunately that stupidity goes both ways.
Last night as I started on my spring cleaning I ended up going under my bed. While many things change some always stay the same. As I got rid of the dust as to expel Mordecai the Magic Mouse from the bunker I call my home, I thought of my parents. I thought of how each never had a room growing up. About how all my mother wanted was her own closet, and she got that when she married my dad. Of course in there I threw in some gratitude. And then the Miss Perfect Squad crossed my mind.
I remembered one of the clones reading a story where she had the sentence, "The contents of my belongings were emptied out of my Gucci Purse." I remember thinking the bitch probably had a clean room and good handwriting. As I fished under my bed I discovered fifteen dollars I never knew I had. Now I know why Miss Perfect cleaned all the time.
Perhaps she knew something I didn't. Hell, this could buy me some vittles.
PERFECT!
LoveAprilI 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
Did I mention I started on my musical?
I sort of had a resentment against having what is known as a clean house. When I was a kid my dad made us do room inspection. Every Saturday we were forced to clean. Being one of seven kids he never had his own room, so he wanted us to know not everyone did so to appreciate it. My brother usually flunked room inspection. This resulted in his Nintendo being taken away. Of course my sister passed this with flying colors like she does everything in life. I threw everything under the bed and hoped for the best. My closet was unavailable. This was because my brother was on thin ice with my dad and hid his dirty clothes and stuff in there. It was because my closet was huge and one could do that. Needless to say if there was a monster under my bed or in my closet he probably was seeing some pretty interesting things.
I grew resentful at room inspection and I think became a clutter bug out of spite. Being creative sort of does that to people I suppose. I was never neat and orderly to begin with. At school the girls with the best hand writing always sort of annoyed me. They were perfect. They had the perfect little bodies whereas I struggled with my weight. They said the perfect things in class whereas I am convinced I was smarter than some of my teachers and showed it from time to time. They wanted to be the perfect little housewives even at a young age and I didnt see time for it. I wrote stories. I wrote songs with my friends at recess. When I saw a movie on TV I knew in my heart I could do that too. These perfect little girls were just thorns in my side.
The worst was when the Miss Perfect Squad would gang up on me. This was during the handwriting contest. I always lost because my handwriting looks like that of a serial killer. It's not my fault, I just suck at handwriting, whereas these bitches just sucked at life. When I lost the handwriting competition they started making fun of me. I just remember thinking whatever, I am smarter. The next week my short story won the prize. It was a retarded tale about a cat catching a mouse. My dad was proud, and to get my dad to say something good is hard sometimes. You see, my pops wasn't the kind of dad who told me I was pretty and special and all that happy horse shit. Hell no. When I did badly on a test, my dad would look me in the eye and say, "Kid, you are sucking bottom." Then there would be a pause. And he would say, "But I am here sucking bottom with you." So that was his way of offering support.
When my story won the prize the Miss Perfect Squad was amazed. Their stories never won prizes, because writing involves depth aside from pink ribbons in ones hair. The amazement wore off in Middle School when my weight ballooned out of control and the acne came cropping in. This was one of those things where I knew I didnt look as good as some of these girls with good skin. It was painful and they didn't make my life easy. I told myself they would be choking on it one day.
As time went on I did what I set out to do with my life. I graduated, moved to the city, and pursued my dreams. I have been on TV a few times. Fans have recognized me in the street. I wrote and published a book that has been featured on The Official Website of Britney Spears. Did I mention my room was a mess when this happened?
In my travels the friends I have made have always been colorful. Some have been to jail. Some have worked as hustlers whether it be pimps, drug dealers, or hookers. Some have drama that could play out in Central Park during their summer season but do it with such gusto that I have to laugh. All are wonderful people who love me for who I am and for that I am gratefully blessed.
The tables have shifted over time in another way. On facebook I follow some of the Miss Perfects, the girls who had the good skin and the flawless cursive writing. Their lives aren't that perfect. Many have husbands who look great but really aren't there emotionally for them. A lot of them have kids and often post about the issues their children are having because their husbands are either that clueless or absent. In many of their words, a painful cry from suburbia, they are stressing about whether or not they are a good enough mother. They want to be the perfect mother to their kids just like they had the perfect skin and the perfect handwriting. And it kills them to see their children unhappy. Bottom line, they have problems too. Everyone does. While these people are easy to hate, bottom line, they are still people.
There is no such thing as perfect. Everyone has their gifts and weaknesses. Maybe I am good at writing stories, creating things, giving inanimate objects voices and of course making people laugh. However, these girls were good at handwriting and probably kept a clean room. If the world had too many of me no one would ever be able to find anything, and if the world had to many of them, it would be the planet of the Stepford Wives. Also, I have learned for as mean as some of them were to me not to knock their dreams. Some women only want to be wives and mothers and that is mine. My mom is good at both and I could never hold a candle to her. Hell, without my mom I wouldn't do the things I do let alone exist.
Over time I have done shows and delivered to Miss Perfects. Usually they aren't half bad. Most of the time they were people who had a check list when it came to life, and as long as that check list is making them happy I won't knock it. However, when shit hits the fan they never know what to do. That is when the Miss Perfects in my travels always reach out to me. I have had women write me fan letters, Miss Perfects on the outside, who told me they wished they could be like me. Some of them had terrible backstories. To them, the facade helps hide that pain. Sure I am more honest about who I am and where I have been. I have also done speaking panels with Miss Perfects, while I might not always agree with the clones of Elizabeth Hasselbeck, I think they add a variety to the perspective. Like anyone else they want to be treated with respect. While sometimes it is hard because again these girls made my life hell in school, I know that is more about the chip on my shoulder than it is about them. Most of the time these women didnt know me then. Why should it matter?
Ironically there are some people who assume my life is perfect. One is a young woman who pops up from time to time that struggles with drug addiction and mental illness that is sort of a nuisance. This troubled soul is the current girlfriend of an ex of mine who feels she is in competing with me even though I haven't spoken to my ex in years and don't want him back. She thinks I have never struggled because of the way I look. She believes my childhood was perfect because my dad was a lawyer. She believes I make up things about myself to make it seem I have depth. The sick thing is, she is such a victim she believes she had it worse than anyone and regularly broadcasts this on the internet. Yes sweetheart, you had your issues but don't we all? She didn't know me when my life was real shitty a few years ago and I was living off my laundry money. She didn't know me when my ex said, "Me or the puppets." She didn't know me when that ex's stalking made me get a different mailing address. She didn't know me during that hot summer when I wrote my book in the fourth floor walk up hot box I live in. She wasn't with me this past month when my grandmother died, my mom got injured in a freak accident, and the arrest of one of my drug addicted familial relations made the local paper. Yes, Virginia, Santa didn't bring me the perfect life for Christmas. There are some chinks in this armor. Granted, this young woman is severely disturbed but it is amazing how she just thinks I float along PERFECTLY!
There have been other comedians who assume that I just get things because I am a woman. Meanwhile being a woman I have had to deal with sleazy club owners and bookers who thought they could treat me and speak to me however they wanted. I have been bumped by jealous male comedians with more clout because they were angry my TV credits were recent and they bullied a junior producer. There have been comedians, men and women, who just assume I lie to get on TV. Or they think it is because I am young, perky and blonde. They don't see how hard I work. They aren't with me as I get rejected all the time. They aren't there to see me crying because I am so tired and overworked. But in their victimology they believe things are just handed to me. So I guess unfortunately that stupidity goes both ways.
Last night as I started on my spring cleaning I ended up going under my bed. While many things change some always stay the same. As I got rid of the dust as to expel Mordecai the Magic Mouse from the bunker I call my home, I thought of my parents. I thought of how each never had a room growing up. About how all my mother wanted was her own closet, and she got that when she married my dad. Of course in there I threw in some gratitude. And then the Miss Perfect Squad crossed my mind.
I remembered one of the clones reading a story where she had the sentence, "The contents of my belongings were emptied out of my Gucci Purse." I remember thinking the bitch probably had a clean room and good handwriting. As I fished under my bed I discovered fifteen dollars I never knew I had. Now I know why Miss Perfect cleaned all the time.
Perhaps she knew something I didn't. Hell, this could buy me some vittles.
PERFECT!
LoveAprilI 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
May 10, 2013
A Picture Blog
One of the best people I ever delivered to. Read about it on page 263 of my book
Spring time in New York means tulips and creative cat calls creepy men
Getting ready to do a hair modelling job. More pics to come.
With Libby Segal of Hobby Hoarder. She made AOL.com
This chick got in trouble for putting a picture of her and her baby in the school year book. She is kind of chunky and would have gone dateless at my school. Standards must be lower in her area
Did the first internet campaign for this product. No one knows or cares but it is just a fun fact about April Brucker and her puppet children
Just a random plastic sword on the ground. I feel like this belongs to some man who's girlfriend is named Palmela. By the power of Gray Skull....
I look like Deborah Harry in this photo. I met her one Sunday in the studio. Actually, she still looks better than me. But the whole thing was still a McAwesome girl hood dream.
I was just on the computer and look what popped up. A Barnes and Noble advert for my Nook Book. What do you know, on the bottom of my pop up was a comic science book my brother and sister wrote that is also a part of the collection. The three of us are doing a signing at Brown University on May 25. A semi-starlette and two mad scientists together for this one time occasion. I can dig it. xoMay 9, 2013
How Not To Get A Woman Part Deux
A few years ago, at twenty three, I was waiting to do a comedy show at a pretty much redneck bar. If you have ever seen Blues Brothers and remember that scene in the bar when they keep singing "Rawhide" that is pretty much this place. Anyway, I was early to this pretty much hell gig. Sitting at the bar, I got myself a pop as we call it in Pittsburgh and patiently waited for the producer and booker to show. Just then filing in were a bunch of rednecks. Inbred to the max, they were mullet and flannel wearing. I looked down, told myself to focus on the fireplace. I had been early and still had two hours to go. The only reason I had done this was I had no idea where I was going and hate to be late.
Two of the rednecks glanced at the poster where I was and then back at me several times before making the connection that the girl on the poster and the girl on the bar stool were one in the same. At times like this I wished I had the commentary of the robot cast of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. That is when the game was on. One guy who looked and spoke like the retarded brother of Larry the Cable Guy walked over and said, "You're the comedian."
I nodded. Then he asked, "Are you funny?" Dear God, I hate that question. No, I am not funny. I am a sad and depressing sack of shit and that is why I get onstage. I want people to cry and Regional Theatre wasnt casting so here I am. Of course I am funny ass weed.
"Maybe." I said. I didnt want to talk to this mongoloid any longer. That is when his buddy, who was shorter and even stupider announced that he was going to tell me some jokes. According to his buddy I was "very pretty" and he knew he could "impress a gorgeous girl" like myself. Translated, I had all my teeth and that was a rarity in these parts.
Well Conway Twitty as I will call him began his attempt at comedy. He started with a moderately racist joke one of my drunkles told me as a child. However, he quickly moved on. All of his jokes were about black people being lynched, killed, arrested, and raping white women. Oh and he didn't say black people, he used the "n" word. My whole thing is, if you are going to go offensive you better be funny. This dude was offensive, unfunny, and just a downright bully. Basically a stupid redneck who probably learned how to speak last week. Despite the fact I clearly wasn't into it he kept going. His friends all thought he was the greatest thing since Johnny Carson, and one even said so. I thought about lying that I had to get some air, but I was in the middle of no where and this was pretty much the only destination.
While I joke about race from time to time, they are jokes. I have friends from everywhere and cousins who are mixed as well. Sure these were jokes but the hatefulness was starting to bother me, especially since it WASN'T FUNNY. If he was trying to impress me the only thing impressive here was his utter ignorance.
As the barrage of unfunny continued, this dude moved on to bashing gay people in his jokes. Except instead of the term homosexual he used the "f" word. Again, if you are going to be offensive, you better be funny. This dude was unfunny, offensive, and thought he was impressing me. Note, many of my friends are gay and my book is a part of the Pride Scavenger Hunt this year. I kept hoping he would stop but there was no limit to this man. In his jokes gay people were being stoned to death and black people were being dragged in the back of cars by chains.
Just when I didnt think it could get any worse, he and his friends asked me if I ever thought rape was okay. I told them as a woman it was never okay to rape someone. What did they expect me to say, "Rape, rape, and rape some more." Yes lets rape. That is when they informed me women had too many rights and one of the guys informed me he had just beaten a rape charge. According to him, the woman just "Made it all up." Yes it was official, somewhere along the lines I pissed God off and was dropped into hell. Note, when my male comedian comrades make these jokes these are jokes. They would never hurt me for real. These guys, well I wasn't so sure.
That is when the unfunny racist, sexist, homophobe and the suspected rapist began to argue over who was getting my number. It was like that scene in Dirty Work. I just wanted to say, "I think you should fight it out" and then walk away apathetic as hell.
In any event, as this was going on a black dude walked in. Immediately I figured there was going to be a fight at some point and I could take these dudes, so I walked over to the black dude and said hi. These red necks were amazed that I dissed them. One said, "I see she likes the dark meat." I didnt like the dark meat per se especially when the light meat probably tasted like chewing tobacco. In any event, I ended up talking to the black dude and liking him. These dudes then left the bar and kept bitching about what a "cunt" I was. When I told the black dude what happened he laughed and told me they were just morons and not to pay attention. I had a drink with the dude and then he left.
About a half hour later the comedians came and we did the show. It was a rough crowd with a heckler. I did okay but told myself I wasn't coming back to this hell hole in the woods again. I haven't returned since. Still, one thing about me is that I don't like an ignorant bully. Maybe it was because I was bullied as a kid, or maybe my mom raised me better. I dunno. But ignorant bully plus unfunny equals not getting my number.
LoveAprilI 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
Two of the rednecks glanced at the poster where I was and then back at me several times before making the connection that the girl on the poster and the girl on the bar stool were one in the same. At times like this I wished I had the commentary of the robot cast of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. That is when the game was on. One guy who looked and spoke like the retarded brother of Larry the Cable Guy walked over and said, "You're the comedian."
I nodded. Then he asked, "Are you funny?" Dear God, I hate that question. No, I am not funny. I am a sad and depressing sack of shit and that is why I get onstage. I want people to cry and Regional Theatre wasnt casting so here I am. Of course I am funny ass weed.
"Maybe." I said. I didnt want to talk to this mongoloid any longer. That is when his buddy, who was shorter and even stupider announced that he was going to tell me some jokes. According to his buddy I was "very pretty" and he knew he could "impress a gorgeous girl" like myself. Translated, I had all my teeth and that was a rarity in these parts.
Well Conway Twitty as I will call him began his attempt at comedy. He started with a moderately racist joke one of my drunkles told me as a child. However, he quickly moved on. All of his jokes were about black people being lynched, killed, arrested, and raping white women. Oh and he didn't say black people, he used the "n" word. My whole thing is, if you are going to go offensive you better be funny. This dude was offensive, unfunny, and just a downright bully. Basically a stupid redneck who probably learned how to speak last week. Despite the fact I clearly wasn't into it he kept going. His friends all thought he was the greatest thing since Johnny Carson, and one even said so. I thought about lying that I had to get some air, but I was in the middle of no where and this was pretty much the only destination.
While I joke about race from time to time, they are jokes. I have friends from everywhere and cousins who are mixed as well. Sure these were jokes but the hatefulness was starting to bother me, especially since it WASN'T FUNNY. If he was trying to impress me the only thing impressive here was his utter ignorance.
As the barrage of unfunny continued, this dude moved on to bashing gay people in his jokes. Except instead of the term homosexual he used the "f" word. Again, if you are going to be offensive, you better be funny. This dude was unfunny, offensive, and thought he was impressing me. Note, many of my friends are gay and my book is a part of the Pride Scavenger Hunt this year. I kept hoping he would stop but there was no limit to this man. In his jokes gay people were being stoned to death and black people were being dragged in the back of cars by chains.
Just when I didnt think it could get any worse, he and his friends asked me if I ever thought rape was okay. I told them as a woman it was never okay to rape someone. What did they expect me to say, "Rape, rape, and rape some more." Yes lets rape. That is when they informed me women had too many rights and one of the guys informed me he had just beaten a rape charge. According to him, the woman just "Made it all up." Yes it was official, somewhere along the lines I pissed God off and was dropped into hell. Note, when my male comedian comrades make these jokes these are jokes. They would never hurt me for real. These guys, well I wasn't so sure.
That is when the unfunny racist, sexist, homophobe and the suspected rapist began to argue over who was getting my number. It was like that scene in Dirty Work. I just wanted to say, "I think you should fight it out" and then walk away apathetic as hell.
In any event, as this was going on a black dude walked in. Immediately I figured there was going to be a fight at some point and I could take these dudes, so I walked over to the black dude and said hi. These red necks were amazed that I dissed them. One said, "I see she likes the dark meat." I didnt like the dark meat per se especially when the light meat probably tasted like chewing tobacco. In any event, I ended up talking to the black dude and liking him. These dudes then left the bar and kept bitching about what a "cunt" I was. When I told the black dude what happened he laughed and told me they were just morons and not to pay attention. I had a drink with the dude and then he left.
About a half hour later the comedians came and we did the show. It was a rough crowd with a heckler. I did okay but told myself I wasn't coming back to this hell hole in the woods again. I haven't returned since. Still, one thing about me is that I don't like an ignorant bully. Maybe it was because I was bullied as a kid, or maybe my mom raised me better. I dunno. But ignorant bully plus unfunny equals not getting my number.
LoveAprilI 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
May 8, 2013
Chucking My Cinderblock
Yesterday during my coffee I did a lot of thinking. The funny thing about comedy, ha ha, is nothing is ever set in stone. Today's TV appearance does not guarantee tomorrow's club bookings. Today's club booking does not make one a headliner tomorrow. Today's headliner spot does not mean you won't be haggling for spots next week. Show business is crazy like that. You get what I am saying.
For a while I thought TV time would make me a star. Ironically, when I was on TV most I had the least amount of money in my bank. I remember my episode of Rachael Ray was airing and the crackhead son of the neighbors down the block from me growing up saw it. At the time I was living off my laundry money, doing a host of odd jobs, and I believe my rent check bounced that month. Yes it got me some respect on the street, but nothing else really. If anything in some ways it made my life harder because I had taken a risk on national television. Looking back, I probably wasn't ready for the appearance. Now I know people drill themselves to hell before an appearance and have their jokes on teleprompter. I was twenty three. I had a puppet. Sometimes you just do things. I was glad I did though. While some didnt support me, the folks who did said, "You look good on camera. You should be on TV more."
I remember after that I got on TV again with Foxworthy who is one of the nicest people I have ever worked with. Then I was on TLC and did the press tour with my babies and you know the scoop. And if you read my blogs you know what happened afterwards and how some of it wasn't so nice. Yes, my home club fired me despite the press I got them. Yes, I found out who my friends were and werent the hard way and it sucked, especially to find out on Gawker.
The truth is, I started to develop an attitude about everything. I am a woman in a career with mostly all men. There were guys upset that I seemingly had things handed to me when they didnt see how hard I was working. As a result of my TV time, I had male headliners who hadn't done shit in years bump me because they could bully a junior producer into doing so. I also had them take cheap shots at me because of my recent success. Of course some would intentionally run the light so that people would walk out of the room when I came on because hell, it was getting late. I never had these issues before getting on television. Now I was seeing the dickish side of male comedians. And for the record, it seemed they had their breaks handed to them more than I ever did.
I wish I could say I got support from the women but not so much. They were even worse. Taking pot shots at me on gossip sites was their favorite past time. Some of my so called comedy gal pals were the first to stop talking to me when I got on television. As an added bonus, you would think the women at the top would be nicer to each other? Hell no. Women would have taken over the world a long time ago except we are too damn busy cutting each other down. This hurt too. And I felt all alone.
For a long time I was really angry. Other doors opened like the web network I was on and I took to it. I was pissed a bigger club didnt pick me up. Oh well, I was done with standup. I still performed but not as much. And usually when I did I had something to bitch about. Why couldn't I throw around my TV credits like all the guy comics? Why didnt I get pushy with junior producers? Why wasnt I one of the cool kids who had their careers handed to them? Why did I have to have a brain being so conscious of who and what I was?
The thing about resentment is it is drinking poison and expecting someone else to get sick. I didn't enjoy comedy so much anymore because I had developed such a terrible attitude. Slowly I was becoming everything I hated. I would tell people about my TV time just to remind them in case they forgot. They didn't forgot my TV time and they also didn't forget my bitch streak I had developed. So people began to say I had developed an attitude. Sure, it wasn't intentional but it was there. And some of my anger was justified. There were people not willing to use me on shows but willing to use my image on their posters because I was current. Yes. Fans recognized me on the street. However, I could still be treated like a piece of shit even though I was technically more famous than the (male) headliner trying hunty shit to bump me. This would make anyone angry.
My mother said it best though, "When you laugh, the world laughs with you. When you cry, you cry alone." I was miserable. The thing about anger is eventually it just eats away at your spirit and makes your body ache. I was getting aches and pains out of no where. And it was all my fault. I had a vendetta against the male world that I thought wronged me, the female world who didn't support me, and the comedy world who doesn't know who I (think) I am. Worst of all, I didn't enjoy the thing I used to love most in the world, getting onstage and making people laugh.
Lately I have been getting onstage again. Instead of letting the world know about my TV time I just have been making it about being funny. And when I have been doing that, it occurs to me that I have also been forgetting to do something else: have fun. On any given night I am blessed to share the stage with some of the greatest talent in the world. Some have been on TV more than I have and some may never. Some are not as funny as I am while some are better than I could probably ever be. The point is, when my mind is in the right place the stage becomes my classroom and I learn.
I also like being back onstage. It is like I am twenty years old again lugging my puppets from class to a spot. While I have seen some success, yes, there is still lots of work to be done. Sure, I have all the TV credits I didn't have at twenty. I have the New York Club and road experience I didn't have at twenty. Hell I even wrote a book. Something I only dreamed of at twenty. However, there is one thing that twenty year old kid had that I don't have, a positive attitude. She jumped onstage wherever they let her. She had an open mind and an open heart. Sure she was goofy and clueless as hell but she wasn't afraid and that carried her a long way. Then life happened and she got jaded. But don't we all.
My point is, while time has passed, it is not too late to get that person back. The kid who wears too much makeup but isn't afraid to be herself. The little girl who moved from Pittsburgh and is all alone. The little girl who loved comedy and it times it was the only thing keeping her from jumping out the window when her entitled princess roommate talked about how a decent guy was into her. It was the only thing that kept her from lashing out at the slutty girls or the goody girls. It was the only thing that made her get the respect of the rest of the guys in the room cause she was balls to the wall.
Yeah, my journey has not been easy. There have been people who have told me no. There have been people who have laughed in my face. There have been people who have turned on me with some of my recent success. It hurts because I would never do that to anyone and it is not who my mother raised me to be. At the same time, my mother didn't raise me to be an egotistical tool like I have been becoming either. While these people might suck I have been giving them way too much energy and it's my fault for letting them snatch my spirit.
At the end of the day the industry isn't fair but neither is life. Every dog has their day. We can only work as hard as we can. We can only control what we can. What I can control is being as funny as I can be. I remember I did that after Rachael Ray and it was the best thing I ever did. Now I am doing it again. Yes I still have other cool things I am doing but first and foremost I am returning to basics. This means not running my mouth to bookers and letting my ego get bruised. It is nothing personal, just a part of the game.
As I chuck my cinderblock, I feel not only do I enjoy the thing that I used to love most again, but feel apart of instead of apart from the comedy community. Yes I have worked hard and have done some cool things. But my job behind the mic is to be funny and to push the boundaries by challenging my audience as an artist. Most important of all, it is to make the world a better place. Not only am I more joyful, but I feel fifty pounds lighter.
LoveAprilI 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
For a while I thought TV time would make me a star. Ironically, when I was on TV most I had the least amount of money in my bank. I remember my episode of Rachael Ray was airing and the crackhead son of the neighbors down the block from me growing up saw it. At the time I was living off my laundry money, doing a host of odd jobs, and I believe my rent check bounced that month. Yes it got me some respect on the street, but nothing else really. If anything in some ways it made my life harder because I had taken a risk on national television. Looking back, I probably wasn't ready for the appearance. Now I know people drill themselves to hell before an appearance and have their jokes on teleprompter. I was twenty three. I had a puppet. Sometimes you just do things. I was glad I did though. While some didnt support me, the folks who did said, "You look good on camera. You should be on TV more."
I remember after that I got on TV again with Foxworthy who is one of the nicest people I have ever worked with. Then I was on TLC and did the press tour with my babies and you know the scoop. And if you read my blogs you know what happened afterwards and how some of it wasn't so nice. Yes, my home club fired me despite the press I got them. Yes, I found out who my friends were and werent the hard way and it sucked, especially to find out on Gawker.
The truth is, I started to develop an attitude about everything. I am a woman in a career with mostly all men. There were guys upset that I seemingly had things handed to me when they didnt see how hard I was working. As a result of my TV time, I had male headliners who hadn't done shit in years bump me because they could bully a junior producer into doing so. I also had them take cheap shots at me because of my recent success. Of course some would intentionally run the light so that people would walk out of the room when I came on because hell, it was getting late. I never had these issues before getting on television. Now I was seeing the dickish side of male comedians. And for the record, it seemed they had their breaks handed to them more than I ever did.
I wish I could say I got support from the women but not so much. They were even worse. Taking pot shots at me on gossip sites was their favorite past time. Some of my so called comedy gal pals were the first to stop talking to me when I got on television. As an added bonus, you would think the women at the top would be nicer to each other? Hell no. Women would have taken over the world a long time ago except we are too damn busy cutting each other down. This hurt too. And I felt all alone.
For a long time I was really angry. Other doors opened like the web network I was on and I took to it. I was pissed a bigger club didnt pick me up. Oh well, I was done with standup. I still performed but not as much. And usually when I did I had something to bitch about. Why couldn't I throw around my TV credits like all the guy comics? Why didnt I get pushy with junior producers? Why wasnt I one of the cool kids who had their careers handed to them? Why did I have to have a brain being so conscious of who and what I was?
The thing about resentment is it is drinking poison and expecting someone else to get sick. I didn't enjoy comedy so much anymore because I had developed such a terrible attitude. Slowly I was becoming everything I hated. I would tell people about my TV time just to remind them in case they forgot. They didn't forgot my TV time and they also didn't forget my bitch streak I had developed. So people began to say I had developed an attitude. Sure, it wasn't intentional but it was there. And some of my anger was justified. There were people not willing to use me on shows but willing to use my image on their posters because I was current. Yes. Fans recognized me on the street. However, I could still be treated like a piece of shit even though I was technically more famous than the (male) headliner trying hunty shit to bump me. This would make anyone angry.
My mother said it best though, "When you laugh, the world laughs with you. When you cry, you cry alone." I was miserable. The thing about anger is eventually it just eats away at your spirit and makes your body ache. I was getting aches and pains out of no where. And it was all my fault. I had a vendetta against the male world that I thought wronged me, the female world who didn't support me, and the comedy world who doesn't know who I (think) I am. Worst of all, I didn't enjoy the thing I used to love most in the world, getting onstage and making people laugh.
Lately I have been getting onstage again. Instead of letting the world know about my TV time I just have been making it about being funny. And when I have been doing that, it occurs to me that I have also been forgetting to do something else: have fun. On any given night I am blessed to share the stage with some of the greatest talent in the world. Some have been on TV more than I have and some may never. Some are not as funny as I am while some are better than I could probably ever be. The point is, when my mind is in the right place the stage becomes my classroom and I learn.
I also like being back onstage. It is like I am twenty years old again lugging my puppets from class to a spot. While I have seen some success, yes, there is still lots of work to be done. Sure, I have all the TV credits I didn't have at twenty. I have the New York Club and road experience I didn't have at twenty. Hell I even wrote a book. Something I only dreamed of at twenty. However, there is one thing that twenty year old kid had that I don't have, a positive attitude. She jumped onstage wherever they let her. She had an open mind and an open heart. Sure she was goofy and clueless as hell but she wasn't afraid and that carried her a long way. Then life happened and she got jaded. But don't we all.
My point is, while time has passed, it is not too late to get that person back. The kid who wears too much makeup but isn't afraid to be herself. The little girl who moved from Pittsburgh and is all alone. The little girl who loved comedy and it times it was the only thing keeping her from jumping out the window when her entitled princess roommate talked about how a decent guy was into her. It was the only thing that kept her from lashing out at the slutty girls or the goody girls. It was the only thing that made her get the respect of the rest of the guys in the room cause she was balls to the wall.
Yeah, my journey has not been easy. There have been people who have told me no. There have been people who have laughed in my face. There have been people who have turned on me with some of my recent success. It hurts because I would never do that to anyone and it is not who my mother raised me to be. At the same time, my mother didn't raise me to be an egotistical tool like I have been becoming either. While these people might suck I have been giving them way too much energy and it's my fault for letting them snatch my spirit.
At the end of the day the industry isn't fair but neither is life. Every dog has their day. We can only work as hard as we can. We can only control what we can. What I can control is being as funny as I can be. I remember I did that after Rachael Ray and it was the best thing I ever did. Now I am doing it again. Yes I still have other cool things I am doing but first and foremost I am returning to basics. This means not running my mouth to bookers and letting my ego get bruised. It is nothing personal, just a part of the game.
As I chuck my cinderblock, I feel not only do I enjoy the thing that I used to love most again, but feel apart of instead of apart from the comedy community. Yes I have worked hard and have done some cool things. But my job behind the mic is to be funny and to push the boundaries by challenging my audience as an artist. Most important of all, it is to make the world a better place. Not only am I more joyful, but I feel fifty pounds lighter.
LoveAprilI 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
