April E. Brucker's Blog, page 53
May 7, 2013
How Not To Get A Woman
Once I was hanging out in my deli on the corner a few years ago. No, I wasn't working as a hooker. I was getting my coffee. Anyway, I was chilling with Jackson my cabbie buddy when this dude walks in. He was young, good looking, and had skin that was as smooth as silk and black like a rare pearl. His eyes were dark and piercing. Oh and he was all rugged. While I will date anyone who is sane these days, I usually favor a darker complexion. I mean, I will date a pasty dude but we both can't look like the sun will kill us for the sake of our children is all I am saying.
Anyway Jackson had to go back to work and I was left with this dude. He started talking to me and told me he was from Ghana. Already I heard the horror stories about African men men knocking up women and leaving them with child as they raced to play Johnny Appleseed. Jamaican men are apparently worse. The crown of course belongs to the Puerto Ricans in this politically incorrect game of Maury Povich. I wasn't judging him based off of race. That is like saying all Asians are bad drivers and all Jews are cheap bastards.
So we began talking and he revealed he had two children with two different mothers back in Ghana. I was like okay. This is how the conversation went from there:
Ghana Bob: Do you have children?
Me: Hell no.
Ghana Bob: Why hell no? It is our purpose on this planet to have children.
Me: That is up for debate. I think certain people aren't designed to have children. And I actually think I would be a terrible mother.
Ghana Bob: Not if you had my baby you wouldn't.
Me: Excuse me?
Ghana Bob: Yes, I have been seeing you coming to this deli for some time. I just have the picture of the two of us. You would make a really great mother. I think you should have my baby.
I laugh nervously
Me: That is really funny.
Ghana Bob: No, I'm serious.
Me: Don't you think that this is moving a little fast? I mean, we just met.
Ghana Bob: This worked on both my children's mothers.
I get up
Me: I need to leave
Ghana Bob: Where are you going?
Me: To run far away from you and to staple my clothes onto my body in case we ever meet again.
Needless to say, that is my first and last African dude. Ghana Bob probably went to find some idiot with two brain cells in order to add a half white baby to his collection. Or an idiot from any race with two brain cells, but the idiot was probably white because white people are dumb. I of course have twelve wonderful little puppet children I am mother to that have caused me no stretch marks.
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
Anyway Jackson had to go back to work and I was left with this dude. He started talking to me and told me he was from Ghana. Already I heard the horror stories about African men men knocking up women and leaving them with child as they raced to play Johnny Appleseed. Jamaican men are apparently worse. The crown of course belongs to the Puerto Ricans in this politically incorrect game of Maury Povich. I wasn't judging him based off of race. That is like saying all Asians are bad drivers and all Jews are cheap bastards.
So we began talking and he revealed he had two children with two different mothers back in Ghana. I was like okay. This is how the conversation went from there:
Ghana Bob: Do you have children?
Me: Hell no.
Ghana Bob: Why hell no? It is our purpose on this planet to have children.
Me: That is up for debate. I think certain people aren't designed to have children. And I actually think I would be a terrible mother.
Ghana Bob: Not if you had my baby you wouldn't.
Me: Excuse me?
Ghana Bob: Yes, I have been seeing you coming to this deli for some time. I just have the picture of the two of us. You would make a really great mother. I think you should have my baby.
I laugh nervously
Me: That is really funny.
Ghana Bob: No, I'm serious.
Me: Don't you think that this is moving a little fast? I mean, we just met.
Ghana Bob: This worked on both my children's mothers.
I get up
Me: I need to leave
Ghana Bob: Where are you going?
Me: To run far away from you and to staple my clothes onto my body in case we ever meet again.
Needless to say, that is my first and last African dude. Ghana Bob probably went to find some idiot with two brain cells in order to add a half white baby to his collection. Or an idiot from any race with two brain cells, but the idiot was probably white because white people are dumb. I of course have twelve wonderful little puppet children I am mother to that have caused me no stretch marks.
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 6, 2013
Grit
When I was eighteen I used to walk home from work. At the time I was working at a health club as a lifeguard. Usually in the summer heat I had on a wet bathing suit, shorts, and wet hair. During my jaunts home I remember feeling the dirt from the busy road and the mac trucks brush against me. Sometimes depending on the dust amount it stained my legs. My days were spent in the pool, and then either to Plato's Attic in South Park Shops or other destinations.
That summer was the first time I felt sassified and sexified. I had never been a pretty kid growing up. Guys asked me either for answers or out as a joke. My parents didn't let me date. It seemed this was a mission of theirs to make me man proof. Oh and I had puppets, lots of them. Most of the time I was buttoned up, completely covered, and the farthest thing from hot. In high school I was popular because I had a public access TV show (Wayne's World all the way, kind of...), wrote for the local paper, and was in the plays. I had friends who played football, friends who were cheerleaders, friends on the A list so to speak. But when Friday night came, I was dateless. That summer was different though.
I was working as a lifeguard and there were a plethora of dirty, older men who would come to the pool. One was named Tony. He was a divorcee with a terrible tan who found out I was legal. Tony promised to take me to Fantasy Land one night. I asked him where that was and he looked at me blankly. It was a good question. Fantasy Land is not a stop on the map. I don't believe it is in any city aside from the male mind.
Tony had a friend Rick. Like Tony, Rick was divorced. He wasn't quite as shallow though. Rick had two kids from a marriage destroyed by his addiction to painkillers. Before getting a felony he was a successful exec. I remember him telling me this one morning in the steam room. He told me I was beautiful. A guy had never said that to me before ever. Rick was also attending NA with the brother of a friend of mine who had gotten mixed up with heroin, and often gave the kid rides home. He told me my friend's baby bro, who was fifteen, felt like he could never be the person anyone wanted him to be. That made me feel sad in a way. Maybe this is why I have a soft spot for men who can't get it together. I dunno.
And then there was Mr. Hoffman. This was the Duke of Dirty Old Men. Mr. Hoffman was a guidance counselor one town over. We started as friends because his daughter had been into musical theatre. Anyway, Mr. Hoffman informed me that he would teach me anything I ever needed to know about sex. In his words, "You need an old pro like myself so that when you get someone you care about, you know what you are doing." Mr. Hoffman would also try to fake heart attacks in the steam room in order to try to trick me into giving him a hand job. It never worked. My mom was my boss and this would have been awkward. I later found out Mr. Hoffman had a reputation for doing this to troubled young girls he was supposed to be helping and was often in hot water with his union so to speak. At the time I felt special. I guess I was just one of many notches in his imagination.
The King of Dirty Old Men was Charlie. Yes, he had an antique car and a wife who was severely religious and controlling. When Charlie got out of the house he took advantage of it. Charlie too often faked heart attacks in the steam room in order to get a hand job. But he stepped up his game by trying to get me to come into the hot tub so he could feel me up. One time he even pretended to be drowning in order to get CPR. Charlie invited me on a road trip in his antique car. Part of me wanted to go. Part of me was scared he would have a real heart attack and I would be stranded as his sex slave. One time Charlie even brought his son to the pool. They double teamed which was insane.
Usually on my walks home I stopped by the car lot to talk to the guys. Most of the time they were smoking cigarettes. We talked about cars a lot. That is the thing about mechanics, they are always in car land. While I may have been book smart, I was a shit driver. That is why I think I have always been attracted to guys who are street smart and good drivers. Of course they were all tattooed. One even had the name of an ex tattooed on his arm. That is always the kiss of death in any relationship.
The crazy thing about hanging out with mechanics is that they always look at other people's driving and start to rate it. Once we were chilling and this car drove by. They were like, "Oh, what a terrible driver." And then the next car, "Someone needs their breaks checked." This is why I never would ever say a mechanic is dumb. A good mechanic is very bright. I learned this during that summer and during my walks home.
Before I hit the car lot I used to pass Danny's Hoagies. A lot of the stoner guys hung out there. Usually they wore things that made their ears stretch. Some of them even worked on the car lot. Their cars were usually pimped out to the max. As a matter of fact, some of them were so paranoid when it came to their vehicles that they wouldnt let their girlfriends touch it. I usually ended up talking to their girlfriends and them on my walks. I always found we were fast friends. Maybe I wasn't a stoner but I treated them like people and that's all they wanted.
When I usually left the industrial area I was back in my residential neighborhood and back to my house. While it was nice to see flowers and sunshine there was a certain part of me that took to the grit. That took to the people. Maybe it was because in a way they were more real than any of the folks I had known in the National Honor Society.
My grandfather-my dad's dad-whom I never met was a master machinist in the mills. We believe this is where my sister got her attention to detail and quick skill with her hands. He worked in basically an oven all day, and sometimes even worked nights. This was back when Pittsburgh had mills. While my grandpap died before I was born, I think there is still a lot of that in my blood. I think this is why I relate to people who are brutally honest and tell the truth even if other people deem the as "mean." Maybe this is why a lot of my fans tend to be bikers and iron workers rather than the over educated hipsters. Maybe this is why I find myself able to deal with people who are "hard to get along with." It's that grit.
I find I drift towards things that are gritter. My comedy tends to be grittier. As a matter of fact, during my development as a performer I sort of have been adopted by urban comedians from time to time. While they scared the hell out of me when I first moved to the city, over time I took to them. And if you are serious about comedy-even if you are a smurf-they can be of great assistance to you. Then again, New York Comedy is more gritty in general. Maybe that is why I like it better than comedy from LA which is all nice, vegan, and pretty white people with deep pools and shallow problems.
I tend to drift towards idols who are grittier. Mae West is the most beautiful woman from the 1930s in my opinion, balls to the wall. I love Marilyn, and the vintage stuff as well. But she ain't gritty like Ms. West. Of course there are folks like Lana Turner and Bette Davis who I adore. They are like me, gritty. Balls to the wall. Not afraid to get dirty.
I think that part of my personality scared the hell out of some people when I moved to New York. I wasn't put together but rather sort of all over. I didn't believe in kissing ass. One of my acting teachers, one who I think slits her wrists when I am on TV, hated this about me. I remember doing a monologue that was based off of a Mae West play and she said I had an identity crisis. I just think her issue with me was that I wasn't willing to buy her bullshit front of a bitter woman angry that show business hadn't given her what she felt entitled to. Needless to say she got me in some trouble. Yes, I was nice and stupid like she wanted me to be rest of the semester. But so far I am making quite a career out of being ballsy. I hope she shoots herself in the feet and head when she sees me on TV. I hope I have some fans who brag about me when they walk through her door. I hope the bitch is forced to tell stories about me. Enough about her, I am given an untalented bug eyed hole an entire paragraph, more fame than she deserves to have.
Then again the grit scared the hell out of some people when I lived in Pittsburgh. There was one woman I worked with at the supermarket. Everyone gave her a pass because her kid had Downs. Anyway, she told my mother she didnt like the way I caked on my makeup like my old movie idols. She claimed she could help me. This woman was a cashier for minimum wage. She could barely help herself. My mom was totally flipped out by this big mouth. I told her that it was my makeup and my face. It wasn't like this woman was paying me. I guess it upset my mom because I am her kid. So I told my mom that this woman was obnoxious and basically everyone felt the same way. My mom was trying to find some gold lining, some good. I didnt see any. Thanks but no thanks lady. I didnt care then what people thought of me and don't care now. Trash talk, bring it.
I remember I made a friend who was like a big brother to me in comedy because I got onstage in front of a black crowd with a puppet. While it was lukewarm, I still did it. I was twenty years old and out of my mind. Years later he told me, "At that moment, you earned my respect because you were the bravest kid in the world. Not many people can do that in front of a black crowd." To me they were like anyone else. They just wanted to laugh.
Three years later I pulled the same stunt, except it was on national television and it was Jerry Springer. Sure I paid some but it made me a hero to others.
Sometimes I know my mother wishes I had some fear. Maybe I wouldnt be so stupid. Maybe I wouldnt hike on the side of the highways in the competition with the Mac Trucks like a man instead of a petite little girl. Maybe I would have more friends that were girls. Maybe I wouldnt be so attuned to the sexism in the world and willing to fight it by kicking ass instead of complaining. Maybe I would be father along because I played by the rules.
Or maybe I wouldn't be.
Today I had a very good conversation with a booker on the phone. I am trudging toward management again because a friend of mine-and I believe the universe speaks through Archie-told me to do it so I wouldn't lose my momentum. Anyway, today I got the balls to speak to one and we had a very nice conversation. He is a big deal and wants to help me out. I also spoke to some book people and it was promising. I wasn't afraid.
I think it is hiking on the high ways. I think it is the fact one of my favorite spots is the diner by The West Side High Way where you feel like you are in New York but not. I think it is the fact I get along so well with people who are real.
When I succeed it is not the charming young woman who prances around like a fool. Do not be fooled. I am from several generations of steel workers. I might hold a puppet instead of a tool as I slave in an oven. Make no mistake about it, there is some real grit in this blood.
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
That summer was the first time I felt sassified and sexified. I had never been a pretty kid growing up. Guys asked me either for answers or out as a joke. My parents didn't let me date. It seemed this was a mission of theirs to make me man proof. Oh and I had puppets, lots of them. Most of the time I was buttoned up, completely covered, and the farthest thing from hot. In high school I was popular because I had a public access TV show (Wayne's World all the way, kind of...), wrote for the local paper, and was in the plays. I had friends who played football, friends who were cheerleaders, friends on the A list so to speak. But when Friday night came, I was dateless. That summer was different though.
I was working as a lifeguard and there were a plethora of dirty, older men who would come to the pool. One was named Tony. He was a divorcee with a terrible tan who found out I was legal. Tony promised to take me to Fantasy Land one night. I asked him where that was and he looked at me blankly. It was a good question. Fantasy Land is not a stop on the map. I don't believe it is in any city aside from the male mind.
Tony had a friend Rick. Like Tony, Rick was divorced. He wasn't quite as shallow though. Rick had two kids from a marriage destroyed by his addiction to painkillers. Before getting a felony he was a successful exec. I remember him telling me this one morning in the steam room. He told me I was beautiful. A guy had never said that to me before ever. Rick was also attending NA with the brother of a friend of mine who had gotten mixed up with heroin, and often gave the kid rides home. He told me my friend's baby bro, who was fifteen, felt like he could never be the person anyone wanted him to be. That made me feel sad in a way. Maybe this is why I have a soft spot for men who can't get it together. I dunno.
And then there was Mr. Hoffman. This was the Duke of Dirty Old Men. Mr. Hoffman was a guidance counselor one town over. We started as friends because his daughter had been into musical theatre. Anyway, Mr. Hoffman informed me that he would teach me anything I ever needed to know about sex. In his words, "You need an old pro like myself so that when you get someone you care about, you know what you are doing." Mr. Hoffman would also try to fake heart attacks in the steam room in order to try to trick me into giving him a hand job. It never worked. My mom was my boss and this would have been awkward. I later found out Mr. Hoffman had a reputation for doing this to troubled young girls he was supposed to be helping and was often in hot water with his union so to speak. At the time I felt special. I guess I was just one of many notches in his imagination.
The King of Dirty Old Men was Charlie. Yes, he had an antique car and a wife who was severely religious and controlling. When Charlie got out of the house he took advantage of it. Charlie too often faked heart attacks in the steam room in order to get a hand job. But he stepped up his game by trying to get me to come into the hot tub so he could feel me up. One time he even pretended to be drowning in order to get CPR. Charlie invited me on a road trip in his antique car. Part of me wanted to go. Part of me was scared he would have a real heart attack and I would be stranded as his sex slave. One time Charlie even brought his son to the pool. They double teamed which was insane.
Usually on my walks home I stopped by the car lot to talk to the guys. Most of the time they were smoking cigarettes. We talked about cars a lot. That is the thing about mechanics, they are always in car land. While I may have been book smart, I was a shit driver. That is why I think I have always been attracted to guys who are street smart and good drivers. Of course they were all tattooed. One even had the name of an ex tattooed on his arm. That is always the kiss of death in any relationship.
The crazy thing about hanging out with mechanics is that they always look at other people's driving and start to rate it. Once we were chilling and this car drove by. They were like, "Oh, what a terrible driver." And then the next car, "Someone needs their breaks checked." This is why I never would ever say a mechanic is dumb. A good mechanic is very bright. I learned this during that summer and during my walks home.
Before I hit the car lot I used to pass Danny's Hoagies. A lot of the stoner guys hung out there. Usually they wore things that made their ears stretch. Some of them even worked on the car lot. Their cars were usually pimped out to the max. As a matter of fact, some of them were so paranoid when it came to their vehicles that they wouldnt let their girlfriends touch it. I usually ended up talking to their girlfriends and them on my walks. I always found we were fast friends. Maybe I wasn't a stoner but I treated them like people and that's all they wanted.
When I usually left the industrial area I was back in my residential neighborhood and back to my house. While it was nice to see flowers and sunshine there was a certain part of me that took to the grit. That took to the people. Maybe it was because in a way they were more real than any of the folks I had known in the National Honor Society.
My grandfather-my dad's dad-whom I never met was a master machinist in the mills. We believe this is where my sister got her attention to detail and quick skill with her hands. He worked in basically an oven all day, and sometimes even worked nights. This was back when Pittsburgh had mills. While my grandpap died before I was born, I think there is still a lot of that in my blood. I think this is why I relate to people who are brutally honest and tell the truth even if other people deem the as "mean." Maybe this is why a lot of my fans tend to be bikers and iron workers rather than the over educated hipsters. Maybe this is why I find myself able to deal with people who are "hard to get along with." It's that grit.
I find I drift towards things that are gritter. My comedy tends to be grittier. As a matter of fact, during my development as a performer I sort of have been adopted by urban comedians from time to time. While they scared the hell out of me when I first moved to the city, over time I took to them. And if you are serious about comedy-even if you are a smurf-they can be of great assistance to you. Then again, New York Comedy is more gritty in general. Maybe that is why I like it better than comedy from LA which is all nice, vegan, and pretty white people with deep pools and shallow problems.
I tend to drift towards idols who are grittier. Mae West is the most beautiful woman from the 1930s in my opinion, balls to the wall. I love Marilyn, and the vintage stuff as well. But she ain't gritty like Ms. West. Of course there are folks like Lana Turner and Bette Davis who I adore. They are like me, gritty. Balls to the wall. Not afraid to get dirty.
I think that part of my personality scared the hell out of some people when I moved to New York. I wasn't put together but rather sort of all over. I didn't believe in kissing ass. One of my acting teachers, one who I think slits her wrists when I am on TV, hated this about me. I remember doing a monologue that was based off of a Mae West play and she said I had an identity crisis. I just think her issue with me was that I wasn't willing to buy her bullshit front of a bitter woman angry that show business hadn't given her what she felt entitled to. Needless to say she got me in some trouble. Yes, I was nice and stupid like she wanted me to be rest of the semester. But so far I am making quite a career out of being ballsy. I hope she shoots herself in the feet and head when she sees me on TV. I hope I have some fans who brag about me when they walk through her door. I hope the bitch is forced to tell stories about me. Enough about her, I am given an untalented bug eyed hole an entire paragraph, more fame than she deserves to have.
Then again the grit scared the hell out of some people when I lived in Pittsburgh. There was one woman I worked with at the supermarket. Everyone gave her a pass because her kid had Downs. Anyway, she told my mother she didnt like the way I caked on my makeup like my old movie idols. She claimed she could help me. This woman was a cashier for minimum wage. She could barely help herself. My mom was totally flipped out by this big mouth. I told her that it was my makeup and my face. It wasn't like this woman was paying me. I guess it upset my mom because I am her kid. So I told my mom that this woman was obnoxious and basically everyone felt the same way. My mom was trying to find some gold lining, some good. I didnt see any. Thanks but no thanks lady. I didnt care then what people thought of me and don't care now. Trash talk, bring it.
I remember I made a friend who was like a big brother to me in comedy because I got onstage in front of a black crowd with a puppet. While it was lukewarm, I still did it. I was twenty years old and out of my mind. Years later he told me, "At that moment, you earned my respect because you were the bravest kid in the world. Not many people can do that in front of a black crowd." To me they were like anyone else. They just wanted to laugh.
Three years later I pulled the same stunt, except it was on national television and it was Jerry Springer. Sure I paid some but it made me a hero to others.
Sometimes I know my mother wishes I had some fear. Maybe I wouldnt be so stupid. Maybe I wouldnt hike on the side of the highways in the competition with the Mac Trucks like a man instead of a petite little girl. Maybe I would have more friends that were girls. Maybe I wouldnt be so attuned to the sexism in the world and willing to fight it by kicking ass instead of complaining. Maybe I would be father along because I played by the rules.
Or maybe I wouldn't be.
Today I had a very good conversation with a booker on the phone. I am trudging toward management again because a friend of mine-and I believe the universe speaks through Archie-told me to do it so I wouldn't lose my momentum. Anyway, today I got the balls to speak to one and we had a very nice conversation. He is a big deal and wants to help me out. I also spoke to some book people and it was promising. I wasn't afraid.
I think it is hiking on the high ways. I think it is the fact one of my favorite spots is the diner by The West Side High Way where you feel like you are in New York but not. I think it is the fact I get along so well with people who are real.
When I succeed it is not the charming young woman who prances around like a fool. Do not be fooled. I am from several generations of steel workers. I might hold a puppet instead of a tool as I slave in an oven. Make no mistake about it, there is some real grit in this blood.
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 5, 2013
Fear n Faith
Lately I have been doing a lot of what they call showing up for my creativity. I have been sending book pitches and proposals for book talks. Yes, some people like my writing style. I am upfront and some even say funny. Actually a lot of people say funny. Other people don't like me. I am not always politically correct and not always what they call "nice." I find nice and mean stupid people words. Oh something is nice. Elaborate please. Oh well it is nice. Or you are so mean. How am I mean? You are just mean.
Anytime I have been called mean it is always by a stupid person on youtube. I cannot explain it. Oye vey.
There is so much fear that nothing will pan out. I am at a weird place on the ladder. While I am not a household name, fans have recognized me on the street. On top of that I have been on TV several times. People at shows have recognized me. My book has been reviewed by Mensa and was featured on Britney Spears's website. And yes, I even have some fancy friends. People also brag about knowing me. I have been gossipped about online. I have people so jealous that they want to shake the ladder I am steadily climbing. Oh and I have also written for some highly trafficked news sources. In addition, my videos receive a lot of views.
On the other hand, while I have been on TV plenty it is still not enough to pay the bills on it's own so I am working a day job. I am lucky to like my day job. Actually I have been delivering to some very nice people lately. And while I am "too famous" for some things, I am not famous enough for others. I can still get bumped at clubs by washed up male comedians who rest on their laurels believing they are still important enough to bully junior producers. Oh and then there are the users who will cut me from a show because of the content of my act but still use me on the poster to promote because of my fame. Lets see, I am not important enough to be included in some collections with my work but they have seen me on TV. Oh yeah, and because I am part of a smaller house I have to push my book on my own.
Lately I have been working A LOT which is good and also performing a lot. While I detest mics I have learned no one cares who I think I am. It is more the chip on my shoulder than anything. I am there to work, not to gossip about a bunch of no ones who believe that they are someone. I am there to get better, not to get into trouble. I am there to become a better comedian, not to be the great I am. And yes, I have done great things, past tense. We cannot have yesterday's funny do the work of the funny today.
It is a tenuous place on the ladder as I said.
This morning I delivered a telegram to a very nice family in Brooklyn. The guy was eighty years old and he was VERY COOL. Kind of reminded me of my grandfather. Sure it was a pain in the ass getting out of bed and kind of far in Brooklyn, Dyker Heights, but the trip was worth it. These people were WONDERFUL.
I like that I have a job that enables me to make people laugh. The world is such a messed up place where people are so angry all the damn time. I like making sunshine and rainbows for as corny as that sounds.
There are a lot of things coming up. I have two stores interested in carrying my book. In addition I am also starting the musical and one woman version of my musical. While we are there I also am releasing an audiobook and have a book signing at Brown. Things are good. Oh and a pilot I am working on has been passed to phase two.
As I walked to the train today I saw the Cherry Blossoms on the trees and the pieces of spring begin to tangle with the air. I know in my heart for as much as I fear what is next-me potentially not getting what I want-I know I have to have faith.
I know that on my journey as an artist, as a person, and as an activist, I have not been carried this car in order to be dropped.
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
Anytime I have been called mean it is always by a stupid person on youtube. I cannot explain it. Oye vey.
There is so much fear that nothing will pan out. I am at a weird place on the ladder. While I am not a household name, fans have recognized me on the street. On top of that I have been on TV several times. People at shows have recognized me. My book has been reviewed by Mensa and was featured on Britney Spears's website. And yes, I even have some fancy friends. People also brag about knowing me. I have been gossipped about online. I have people so jealous that they want to shake the ladder I am steadily climbing. Oh and I have also written for some highly trafficked news sources. In addition, my videos receive a lot of views.
On the other hand, while I have been on TV plenty it is still not enough to pay the bills on it's own so I am working a day job. I am lucky to like my day job. Actually I have been delivering to some very nice people lately. And while I am "too famous" for some things, I am not famous enough for others. I can still get bumped at clubs by washed up male comedians who rest on their laurels believing they are still important enough to bully junior producers. Oh and then there are the users who will cut me from a show because of the content of my act but still use me on the poster to promote because of my fame. Lets see, I am not important enough to be included in some collections with my work but they have seen me on TV. Oh yeah, and because I am part of a smaller house I have to push my book on my own.
Lately I have been working A LOT which is good and also performing a lot. While I detest mics I have learned no one cares who I think I am. It is more the chip on my shoulder than anything. I am there to work, not to gossip about a bunch of no ones who believe that they are someone. I am there to get better, not to get into trouble. I am there to become a better comedian, not to be the great I am. And yes, I have done great things, past tense. We cannot have yesterday's funny do the work of the funny today.
It is a tenuous place on the ladder as I said.
This morning I delivered a telegram to a very nice family in Brooklyn. The guy was eighty years old and he was VERY COOL. Kind of reminded me of my grandfather. Sure it was a pain in the ass getting out of bed and kind of far in Brooklyn, Dyker Heights, but the trip was worth it. These people were WONDERFUL.
I like that I have a job that enables me to make people laugh. The world is such a messed up place where people are so angry all the damn time. I like making sunshine and rainbows for as corny as that sounds.
There are a lot of things coming up. I have two stores interested in carrying my book. In addition I am also starting the musical and one woman version of my musical. While we are there I also am releasing an audiobook and have a book signing at Brown. Things are good. Oh and a pilot I am working on has been passed to phase two.
As I walked to the train today I saw the Cherry Blossoms on the trees and the pieces of spring begin to tangle with the air. I know in my heart for as much as I fear what is next-me potentially not getting what I want-I know I have to have faith.
I know that on my journey as an artist, as a person, and as an activist, I have not been carried this car in order to be dropped.
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 4, 2013
Matter of Trust (Billy Joel)
Lately I have been steeped in what they call positive action. Yesterday I sent out a lot of book pitches to various stores. Will they take my book? Hell if I know. Oh and the one guy from the one store I am dealing with is out of town. Another woman I am dealing with is on medical leave. What do you say when someone is on medical leave? That is a tricky one. And then a third person is busy as hell and I have to chase her down.
My book angst situation has been cleared up however. The VP of my publishing house is such a nice lady and is pushing for me. I am feeling okay about my book being in more databases. I just hope people start reading it.
I have also been trying to get press for my book signing at Brown. This will be exciting because it will be both my sister Brenna (alias Skipper) and myself signing our prospective works.
My body hurts. I have been running around all week hoping something pops. There is so much I still have to do and I feel drained. My legs are cramping up too. Last night I got onstage and it went well. I have been getting up a lot more these days just to get up. I have dropped my ego. For now at least. It is getting me no where and gets no work done. I don't have to tell everyone who I think I am. I know who I am and that's all that matters.
In this journey where fear and faith are often strange bedfellows I know I will be okay. It is work. No one ever said this was going to be easy. But I have a book. I have book signings. I have an audiobook that is soon to drop. And oh soon I will be available worldwide.
Cramps, headaches, tired, and sore throat are gonna go. I'm gonna be fine, just fine.
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
My book angst situation has been cleared up however. The VP of my publishing house is such a nice lady and is pushing for me. I am feeling okay about my book being in more databases. I just hope people start reading it.
I have also been trying to get press for my book signing at Brown. This will be exciting because it will be both my sister Brenna (alias Skipper) and myself signing our prospective works.
My body hurts. I have been running around all week hoping something pops. There is so much I still have to do and I feel drained. My legs are cramping up too. Last night I got onstage and it went well. I have been getting up a lot more these days just to get up. I have dropped my ego. For now at least. It is getting me no where and gets no work done. I don't have to tell everyone who I think I am. I know who I am and that's all that matters.
In this journey where fear and faith are often strange bedfellows I know I will be okay. It is work. No one ever said this was going to be easy. But I have a book. I have book signings. I have an audiobook that is soon to drop. And oh soon I will be available worldwide.
Cramps, headaches, tired, and sore throat are gonna go. I'm gonna be fine, just fine.
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 3, 2013
How Not To Get A Man
I was nineteen years old when this happened and knew nothing about guys. Hell, I had never even had a boyfriend. I was blissfully struggling through my first year at NYU. It seemed nothing was working. In studio I struggled to find my place amongst the untalented big mouths who were told their entire lives they should be actors when really they were empty cans making lots of noise. And then there were the goody girls who I kind of bonded with, but they were so squeaky clean they lacked dimension. Lest we not forget the sluts who were actually not that good looking, but guys like the easy test, right? Oh and then there were the favorites who ironically don't have careers now. And of course the weed heads. I couldn't get into weed. Didn't like the smell, and while I have always liked Scooby Doo, only in small doses.
It seemed guys didn't like me. My first week in school I went on a date with a guy who sickened me by telling me of all of his sexual adventures. I began to understand the protagonist Esther Greenwood from The Bell Jar even more. If this was what dating would be like I wanted to overdose on sleeping pills and never be found. And then I made out with one guy my second week of school. I had never made out with anyone before so this was big. But he didn't brush his teeth which made me want to never make out again. Of course in there I kissed Ben, a visitor from England who is still a huge fan and speaks to me. But Ben had to return home. So for the rest of the semester I was left with either guys telling me they would call me and never did, or a lot of gay men who just wanted to chill.
That screwed up semester I ended up with a crush on my gay RA who was nice enough to speak to me after I was having a bad week. I just wanted a hot guy to pay attention to me. After all, at nineteen I was struggling to find my place and losing my footing fast. I looked at some of the girls who I went to school with. They were from rich families. While my dad was a lawyer we were not Astors by any means. Hell, a kid on my floor had a maid. Some were just really outgoing when it came to men and I wasn't. Talking to guys scared me. The few times I had kissed a guy made me want to use mouth wash. Some were really experienced and I really wasn't. And of course some were so talented and I was just strange.
So as I struggled to find my place I developed several strange habits. One was chain smoking. I thought being a bad girl would attract men and it did for a minute. Chain smoking alleviated the anxiety attacks I felt as I went up against my bitter wench of a scene study teacher that semester. However I was a jogger too. The smoking began to kill my cardio and the habit was expensive. Needless to say that did not last long. While Mae West chain smoked in all of her movies, she was a clean liver in real life. Smoking is an awesome prop and looks sexy on film, but in real life it is merely the tool of a nineteen year old moron trying to look cool. Tool being the operative word cause I certainly was one in those days.
That semester I discovered how brave booze makes a person. I had started drinking on Friday nights with my friends. Usually the gatherings were segregated to beer which I detested the taste of. However one week someone brought whiskey and I realized I loved whiskey. I loved how Jack Daniels took my anxiety away and it suddenly became easy when it talked to men. I was no longer April Brucker who was socially awkward and wore fake hair. I was no longer the weird girl with puppets. I was no longer that lost soul trying to find her place among the NYU frosh class. I was brave.
One day I met a hot transfer student at the library. I was living on coffee that day. Part of it was a failed bid to lose weight. Part of it was because my mind was so tired from being dizzy all the damn time because it was just going. His name was Tom. I remember he was from Rhode Island where my brother Wendell was living. We spoke for a half hour and exchanged numbers. I really liked Tom and wanted him to be my boyfriend very badly. Looking back, he was probably just a guy who wanted easy ass and he thought, "This chick is crazy. She will probably give it to me."
Well being nineteen and out of my mind Tom became the perfect man. I liked the fact he was a great listener. At the time I was on a kick with Cancer men and he was a water sign. He would be sensitive to my needs. I began planning the wedding in my mind and naming our children because as I said, at nineteen women are insane. Meanwhile these are the things that scare men forever. Looking back, these thoughts are not only cukoo for coca puffs but scary as hell. As in restraining order scary but I was a stupid kid. I was harmless. I was infatuated. And I had his number. Tom had told me when he took a girl out he brought her flowers and treated her well. I wanted flowers, I wanted to be treated well. The summer before I had worked as a lifeguard with dirty old men all wanting me. They wanted a mistress. None of them offered to bring me flowers! This was the most I had ever spoken to a guy. Gad zooks!
Friday night arrived and so did the whiskey. A girl in my dorm brought it along with the guy she was dating who had just gotten out of jail. I know, great decisions, right? She later flunked out that semester because she just didn't show up for a midterm. You really should show up for those things. I recommend it if you want to PASS. Anyway, we were getting trashed and we were talking. I brought up Tom and our convo. This girl who I will call Jen recommended that the only way to win a guy was to tell him how you felt.
As I proceeded to get trashed I chased my whiskey with a beer. Don't mix your liquors, that is a bad idea. And then someone offered me some coke spiked with something else. Things began to blur and my phone was in reaching distance. So that is when my liquid courage did the talking. I picked up my phone, dialed Tom's number, and stated the following: "Hi Tom, this is April. You met me at the library. I just wanted to tell you that I am in love with you!" With that I hung up the phone.
I drunk dialed several other people that evening, mostly to come and pAArty with us. Nothing drastic. After getting massively shitfaced I ended up somehow losing my shoes in Washington Square Park and puking in a trash can. The people I was partying with were nice enough to help me home. I do believe my shoes turned up somewhere the next day though which was good.
The next morning I woke up and could not remember what happened. I just knew whatever transpired had been a massive amount of fun because I had the most unfortunate hangover. While the next before I had felt brave and sexy, today I felt like hell. Translated, Jack Daniels and I were in an abusive relationship. My roommate who was a major pot head looked at me and asked if I was alright. While I had gotten trashed, she did this all the time. I told her I felt like death and she got me a glass of water.
I made my way to the dining hall and saw I had dialed a number of people on my phone. And I saw Tom's number. I didnt remember calling him and I had not remembered what I said. After several cups of coffee and a chat with Hunter, security guard and part time Pentecostal Preacher, I called Tom. I left him a message telling him I drunk dialed him and apologized. There was no memory of what happened, but also I just hoped I hadn't gone on a rant.
Well Tom called me back while I was showing the vomit of the night before off of myself. He said in his message, "Hi April. It's Tom. You didn't say anything bad.......(pause).....actually, you told me you loved me. Hope you're okay." Click.
I never heard from Tom again. And whenever he saw me he avoided me. I didn't understand what I did wrong. I had simply drunk dialed the man. As Tom avoided me I spilled my guts to my straight RA who was always a listening ear as well. After finishing my tale of woe he put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. Chuck was a Queens Boy and one of the few Republicans at NYU. Cool as hell he sometimes drank with us. While it pissed off Monica the crazy Puerto Rican RA who was the beer Nazi, Chuck was the one bringing the beer.
This is how our exchange went:
Chuck: Seriously, you said that?
I nod
Chuck puts his hand on my shoulder
Chuck: April, you never say that to a man, especially when you just met him. That is the fastest way to lose a guy. As a matter of fact, that is a lesson in how not to get a man.
Me: Will he ever talk to me again?
Chuck looks away, looks at me, and shakes his head.
Chuck: Probably not. April, just don't do that again, okay? I like you and want to see you happy. And when a girl comes on that strong a guy wonders if after this encounter he will keep his penis. I know you aren't crazy, just a little, you know, lost in this area. So no more of that, you hear?
Me: Oh...
Needless to say I saw Tom a few more times during college. Once he was with a new girlfriend who was a chubbier but less insane version of myself. And then a few more times in passing. Each and every time he had a new and exciting excuse to bolt. The good thing is though, I learned my lesson. I have never since done that to a man and my life has been much smoother. The crazy thing is, most people want to be that young again. I say, "Nah." Nineteen is scary. You have the brain of a moron, an adult body, and yes, the state can stick a needle in your arm.
I ran into Tom recently. He is now dating an Asian woman and seems quite happy. Tom was at the corner store buying some stupid item. We exchange some small talk and I hit it off with his gal. However Tom needed a quick excuse to bolt. He said they were on their way to the theatre and pulled her arm. As they this was their exchange as I heard it. And here I will call her Daisy.
Daisy: We aren't going to the threatre. You said you were burned out on acting. We are going to dinner in an hour. I really liked talking to her.
Tom: I know, but she is completely out of her fucking mind. The less contact the better. She called me drunk one night and told me she loved me.
Daisy: Holy shit.
Tom: Yeah......
It totally hurt me to hear that but whatever. I also learned another lesson at nineteen. Men suck. And oh, their rejection is God's protection. I also learned to get to know someone before you fall in love. Oh and then while we are on the subject get to know that they aren't a total assweed before you pick out the wedding locale.
I have been doing well as of late. Maybe he should have stuck with me. But then again, he can choke on that shit when he sees my book on Amazon and sees my face on TV.
Ha ha ha!
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
It seemed guys didn't like me. My first week in school I went on a date with a guy who sickened me by telling me of all of his sexual adventures. I began to understand the protagonist Esther Greenwood from The Bell Jar even more. If this was what dating would be like I wanted to overdose on sleeping pills and never be found. And then I made out with one guy my second week of school. I had never made out with anyone before so this was big. But he didn't brush his teeth which made me want to never make out again. Of course in there I kissed Ben, a visitor from England who is still a huge fan and speaks to me. But Ben had to return home. So for the rest of the semester I was left with either guys telling me they would call me and never did, or a lot of gay men who just wanted to chill.
That screwed up semester I ended up with a crush on my gay RA who was nice enough to speak to me after I was having a bad week. I just wanted a hot guy to pay attention to me. After all, at nineteen I was struggling to find my place and losing my footing fast. I looked at some of the girls who I went to school with. They were from rich families. While my dad was a lawyer we were not Astors by any means. Hell, a kid on my floor had a maid. Some were just really outgoing when it came to men and I wasn't. Talking to guys scared me. The few times I had kissed a guy made me want to use mouth wash. Some were really experienced and I really wasn't. And of course some were so talented and I was just strange.
So as I struggled to find my place I developed several strange habits. One was chain smoking. I thought being a bad girl would attract men and it did for a minute. Chain smoking alleviated the anxiety attacks I felt as I went up against my bitter wench of a scene study teacher that semester. However I was a jogger too. The smoking began to kill my cardio and the habit was expensive. Needless to say that did not last long. While Mae West chain smoked in all of her movies, she was a clean liver in real life. Smoking is an awesome prop and looks sexy on film, but in real life it is merely the tool of a nineteen year old moron trying to look cool. Tool being the operative word cause I certainly was one in those days.
That semester I discovered how brave booze makes a person. I had started drinking on Friday nights with my friends. Usually the gatherings were segregated to beer which I detested the taste of. However one week someone brought whiskey and I realized I loved whiskey. I loved how Jack Daniels took my anxiety away and it suddenly became easy when it talked to men. I was no longer April Brucker who was socially awkward and wore fake hair. I was no longer the weird girl with puppets. I was no longer that lost soul trying to find her place among the NYU frosh class. I was brave.
One day I met a hot transfer student at the library. I was living on coffee that day. Part of it was a failed bid to lose weight. Part of it was because my mind was so tired from being dizzy all the damn time because it was just going. His name was Tom. I remember he was from Rhode Island where my brother Wendell was living. We spoke for a half hour and exchanged numbers. I really liked Tom and wanted him to be my boyfriend very badly. Looking back, he was probably just a guy who wanted easy ass and he thought, "This chick is crazy. She will probably give it to me."
Well being nineteen and out of my mind Tom became the perfect man. I liked the fact he was a great listener. At the time I was on a kick with Cancer men and he was a water sign. He would be sensitive to my needs. I began planning the wedding in my mind and naming our children because as I said, at nineteen women are insane. Meanwhile these are the things that scare men forever. Looking back, these thoughts are not only cukoo for coca puffs but scary as hell. As in restraining order scary but I was a stupid kid. I was harmless. I was infatuated. And I had his number. Tom had told me when he took a girl out he brought her flowers and treated her well. I wanted flowers, I wanted to be treated well. The summer before I had worked as a lifeguard with dirty old men all wanting me. They wanted a mistress. None of them offered to bring me flowers! This was the most I had ever spoken to a guy. Gad zooks!
Friday night arrived and so did the whiskey. A girl in my dorm brought it along with the guy she was dating who had just gotten out of jail. I know, great decisions, right? She later flunked out that semester because she just didn't show up for a midterm. You really should show up for those things. I recommend it if you want to PASS. Anyway, we were getting trashed and we were talking. I brought up Tom and our convo. This girl who I will call Jen recommended that the only way to win a guy was to tell him how you felt.
As I proceeded to get trashed I chased my whiskey with a beer. Don't mix your liquors, that is a bad idea. And then someone offered me some coke spiked with something else. Things began to blur and my phone was in reaching distance. So that is when my liquid courage did the talking. I picked up my phone, dialed Tom's number, and stated the following: "Hi Tom, this is April. You met me at the library. I just wanted to tell you that I am in love with you!" With that I hung up the phone.
I drunk dialed several other people that evening, mostly to come and pAArty with us. Nothing drastic. After getting massively shitfaced I ended up somehow losing my shoes in Washington Square Park and puking in a trash can. The people I was partying with were nice enough to help me home. I do believe my shoes turned up somewhere the next day though which was good.
The next morning I woke up and could not remember what happened. I just knew whatever transpired had been a massive amount of fun because I had the most unfortunate hangover. While the next before I had felt brave and sexy, today I felt like hell. Translated, Jack Daniels and I were in an abusive relationship. My roommate who was a major pot head looked at me and asked if I was alright. While I had gotten trashed, she did this all the time. I told her I felt like death and she got me a glass of water.
I made my way to the dining hall and saw I had dialed a number of people on my phone. And I saw Tom's number. I didnt remember calling him and I had not remembered what I said. After several cups of coffee and a chat with Hunter, security guard and part time Pentecostal Preacher, I called Tom. I left him a message telling him I drunk dialed him and apologized. There was no memory of what happened, but also I just hoped I hadn't gone on a rant.
Well Tom called me back while I was showing the vomit of the night before off of myself. He said in his message, "Hi April. It's Tom. You didn't say anything bad.......(pause).....actually, you told me you loved me. Hope you're okay." Click.
I never heard from Tom again. And whenever he saw me he avoided me. I didn't understand what I did wrong. I had simply drunk dialed the man. As Tom avoided me I spilled my guts to my straight RA who was always a listening ear as well. After finishing my tale of woe he put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. Chuck was a Queens Boy and one of the few Republicans at NYU. Cool as hell he sometimes drank with us. While it pissed off Monica the crazy Puerto Rican RA who was the beer Nazi, Chuck was the one bringing the beer.
This is how our exchange went:
Chuck: Seriously, you said that?
I nod
Chuck puts his hand on my shoulder
Chuck: April, you never say that to a man, especially when you just met him. That is the fastest way to lose a guy. As a matter of fact, that is a lesson in how not to get a man.
Me: Will he ever talk to me again?
Chuck looks away, looks at me, and shakes his head.
Chuck: Probably not. April, just don't do that again, okay? I like you and want to see you happy. And when a girl comes on that strong a guy wonders if after this encounter he will keep his penis. I know you aren't crazy, just a little, you know, lost in this area. So no more of that, you hear?
Me: Oh...
Needless to say I saw Tom a few more times during college. Once he was with a new girlfriend who was a chubbier but less insane version of myself. And then a few more times in passing. Each and every time he had a new and exciting excuse to bolt. The good thing is though, I learned my lesson. I have never since done that to a man and my life has been much smoother. The crazy thing is, most people want to be that young again. I say, "Nah." Nineteen is scary. You have the brain of a moron, an adult body, and yes, the state can stick a needle in your arm.
I ran into Tom recently. He is now dating an Asian woman and seems quite happy. Tom was at the corner store buying some stupid item. We exchange some small talk and I hit it off with his gal. However Tom needed a quick excuse to bolt. He said they were on their way to the theatre and pulled her arm. As they this was their exchange as I heard it. And here I will call her Daisy.
Daisy: We aren't going to the threatre. You said you were burned out on acting. We are going to dinner in an hour. I really liked talking to her.
Tom: I know, but she is completely out of her fucking mind. The less contact the better. She called me drunk one night and told me she loved me.
Daisy: Holy shit.
Tom: Yeah......
It totally hurt me to hear that but whatever. I also learned another lesson at nineteen. Men suck. And oh, their rejection is God's protection. I also learned to get to know someone before you fall in love. Oh and then while we are on the subject get to know that they aren't a total assweed before you pick out the wedding locale.
I have been doing well as of late. Maybe he should have stuck with me. But then again, he can choke on that shit when he sees my book on Amazon and sees my face on TV.
Ha ha ha!
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
Comedian of the Week: Jessica Stern
This young lady is one I connected with last year at the funeral of Ray Peyton-our dead, black, mutual friend who liked to hit on anything with a pulse (he ain't doing that anymore). And we bonded over the fact that he hit on the both of us. Now we connected again and we are becoming thick and thieves. Oh and did I mention she is mad funny? Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Comedian of the Week: Jessica Stern
1. How long have you been doing comedy?
About 2 and a half years now.
2. What made you start doing comedy?
Losing my paralegal job! I had just ended a relationship of 4 years, got laid off at work and lost my apartment all at the same damn time!!! (2 chains voice), lmao so in that moment there was nowhere to go but up, I thought it’s time to be happy and pursue my true passion, stand up comedy! Growing up everybody always told me how funny and crazy I am and that I should be a comedian so I took a class and started getting out there and doing shows! My first time on stage was such a rush, like a comedy orgasm! It just felt right so I’ve been non-stop ever since! Call me corny but I know I was put on earth to make people happy and laughter is the best gift you can give to anyone! Instant happiness!
3. What has been your worst performing experience?
Hmmm….I’ve never bombed I always get laughs but there’s definitely some tough crowds out there! One time recently I had a tough audience that was talking too much, lol you’re really not supposed to talk, just listen and laugh, and a fight almost broke out because the audience members that were listening and into my show were shushing and yelling at the other audience members who were talking to shut up so they could hear me better! It was crazy!
4. What has been your best performing experience?
I recently got to open for Luenell and that was a great honor! I’ve gotten to meet and work with a few stars and a lot of truly talented comics but in general my best performing nights are when ‘I kill’ when I get everybody doubled over laughing and rocking out with me, one night I had an audience member get so into one of my jokes she stood up and walked onto the stage to high five me saying “That’s right girl!”, I LOVE THOSE NIGHTS! And after parties of course, I’m always down to celebrate a great performance! XD
5. If you could open for anyone who would it be?
Richard Pryor of course but he’s passed on. So alive my dream would be to open for Dave Chapelle or Kathy Griffin!
6. What is your astrological sign?
Gemini! Gemini’s are the best entertainers!
7. What do you eat for breakfast?
Crack, rainbows and black dick are how I start my day every day!!! Lmao, Nah I play too much! My breakfast for real is coffee and strawberries.
1. How long have you been doing comedy?
About 2 and a half years now.
2. What made you start doing comedy?
Losing my paralegal job! I had just ended a relationship of 4 years, got laid off at work and lost my apartment all at the same damn time!!! (2 chains voice), lmao so in that moment there was nowhere to go but up, I thought it’s time to be happy and pursue my true passion, stand up comedy! Growing up everybody always told me how funny and crazy I am and that I should be a comedian so I took a class and started getting out there and doing shows! My first time on stage was such a rush, like a comedy orgasm! It just felt right so I’ve been non-stop ever since! Call me corny but I know I was put on earth to make people happy and laughter is the best gift you can give to anyone! Instant happiness!
3. What has been your worst performing experience?
Hmmm….I’ve never bombed I always get laughs but there’s definitely some tough crowds out there! One time recently I had a tough audience that was talking too much, lol you’re really not supposed to talk, just listen and laugh, and a fight almost broke out because the audience members that were listening and into my show were shushing and yelling at the other audience members who were talking to shut up so they could hear me better! It was crazy!
4. What has been your best performing experience?
I recently got to open for Luenell and that was a great honor! I’ve gotten to meet and work with a few stars and a lot of truly talented comics but in general my best performing nights are when ‘I kill’ when I get everybody doubled over laughing and rocking out with me, one night I had an audience member get so into one of my jokes she stood up and walked onto the stage to high five me saying “That’s right girl!”, I LOVE THOSE NIGHTS! And after parties of course, I’m always down to celebrate a great performance! XD
5. If you could open for anyone who would it be?
Richard Pryor of course but he’s passed on. So alive my dream would be to open for Dave Chapelle or Kathy Griffin!
6. What is your astrological sign?
Gemini! Gemini’s are the best entertainers!
7. What do you eat for breakfast?
Crack, rainbows and black dick are how I start my day every day!!! Lmao, Nah I play too much! My breakfast for real is coffee and strawberries.
May 2, 2013
Mirror, mirror...waiting for a man (with a job)Yes, this ...
Mirror, mirror...
waiting for a man (with a job)
Yes, this was in a church
Hobby Hoarder baby!
All I want for Christmas is the Joker cause I smile like Harley Quinn.... Crush
One of Sylvia Plath's first poems was something called Mad Girl's Love Song. Anyway, I love the poem and it is probably her best before she had a nervous breakdown and really got good. Poor thing got screwed because of the era, and had writing abilities that were superior to that of her lying, cheating husband Ted Hughes.
Anyway, here is my modern answer to the poem.
Crush Lucid embers burn and flick a flameI forget all things,Including my name. When you enter the room,With your step, and stride.
We are miles apart.As you gaze away,But you own my heart,I don’t know what to say. Can’t even speak-
Glued shut is my mouth. And when it opens words sputter about-I turn inside out-To impress you-As in my mind I undress you-
Do you undress me in your mind?Oh I am naked beneath my clothes-Heaven knows I wore the wrong underwear. Heaven knows I feel like hell. As you stare me down like a predator.
I am the pray-Running away-Running no where at all-Feeling three feet tall-As I disappear-Leaving myself somewhere.
Chucked like Stone Aged logic,Wait there is no logic in this narrative!As I say something so glibScaring you forever. Can’t tell you how I feel?
No never!As I dream of you in moon lit dreams,Making up our mesmerizing schemes,I close my eyes,And the world drops dead.....
Like Sylvia I made you up inside my head…..
Anyway, here is my modern answer to the poem.
Crush Lucid embers burn and flick a flameI forget all things,Including my name. When you enter the room,With your step, and stride.
We are miles apart.As you gaze away,But you own my heart,I don’t know what to say. Can’t even speak-
Glued shut is my mouth. And when it opens words sputter about-I turn inside out-To impress you-As in my mind I undress you-
Do you undress me in your mind?Oh I am naked beneath my clothes-Heaven knows I wore the wrong underwear. Heaven knows I feel like hell. As you stare me down like a predator.
I am the pray-Running away-Running no where at all-Feeling three feet tall-As I disappear-Leaving myself somewhere.
Chucked like Stone Aged logic,Wait there is no logic in this narrative!As I say something so glibScaring you forever. Can’t tell you how I feel?
No never!As I dream of you in moon lit dreams,Making up our mesmerizing schemes,I close my eyes,And the world drops dead.....
Like Sylvia I made you up inside my head…..
I'm Not Scared (Eighth Wonder)
There are two things performers and artists fear. One is not getting what they want. The other is getting what they want. It is a flipped out bipolar dichotomy that we live in. There is this constant bouncing back and fourth like a game ball trying to get where we need to go. Or at least where we believe we need to go. Or maybe it is like a sicko version of Candy Land. I don't know. Oops, I made a rhyme. Maybe I should write a self-indulgent poetry blog that no one reads. This girlfriend of a guy I once dated is doing that these days. A few months ago she was harassing me because she is insane. I am glad she found a new outlet for her crazy. Apparently they are more committed than mental patients. Maybe they can have a bunch of little idiot spawn. I don't care, as long as she leaves me alone. She was on so many drugs she made the Amnesty Box at Rikers Island look like a sober house. Then again, if you met my ex you would understand. I'm surprised I survived that brief blessed union of souls drug free.
Her crazy made the latter part of February and early March very interesting. From her trying to copy my wardrobe, to her putting up a video when I did, and then of course there was the video where a girl named April was getting her head beaten in. Did I mention she was calling me and hanging up and blocking her number? The thing that triggered her insanity was that my ex was reading my book. But he proposed to her and now she is leaving me alone. The whole thing did test my sanity and serenity. Now she has announced she is writing a book of poetry. Curiously, she announced this when my ex began reading my book. Who knows? Who cares? I am just glad she is leaving me alone. Needless to say it made things interesting. I have to put this in the act sometime.
Lately I have been living in hope, joy, angst, and fear all at once. It is a bizarre state of being. I have a lot of good things going on. First thing is first, I have a book signing at an Ivy League School. My audiobook is also coming out in a month. If I have not sung their praises enough my sound engineers are fabulous. I have also taken the steps to get extended distribution for my book. This means not only will I be more readily available in America but also Europe, Asia, South America, Australia, Africa, and for the penguins in the South Pole. I have some big venues interested in doing book talks. Plus another project I am involved with is in the second phase of planning. There are a lot of awesome things going on in my life.
On the other hand there is some angst and fear I am feeling. First, there was a paperwork error in the system with my book. In essence, it is available in a chain store as an ebook but not as a paperback which is losing me lotsa money. Yesterday I took a huge step with the Vice President of my publishing house to correct it. However it has been angst on the level of a stomach ulcer. Then while my audiobook is being edited and I know I am (probably) in good hands with my sound engineers, I have this fear the studio will burn down because one of the rappers in there is smoking a blunt with his gal pal in the bathroom and accidentally lights the place on fire. I know it will probably not happen. But my mind is just that insane. I am also afraid no one will come to my book signings.
Of course then there are things just denied to me sometimes. While I have been on TV a million freaking times and fans recognize me on the street sometimes I am bumped by some (male) comedian who was on some stupid show a million years ago that was dumped by his management. Yet somehow he still has the pull to put the fear of God in people and bully them around to get what he wants. Yes mutherfucker, I have been on TV more than you in the past two years. Actually, in the past two years I have been on TV more than YOU EVER WILL BE YOU SPOILED BASTARD WHO HAD AN EASY LIFE. And I wrote a book. Yes, book. See, book. B-o-o-k. None of your fans even know you anymore. Maybe I should start acting like an asshole to get what I want. Oops, as a woman if I do the same thing I will be labeled as crazy and they will call me a bitch. But do I care? Fuck that shit, yo. Then again maybe he and his ego as well as his career, washed up on the shores of the land of hasbeen, won the battle. But bitches, I am winning the war.
I remember a few years ago I was at a show and I was headlining. This guy who believed himself to be a comedian, ha ha, and lied about being on Rodney Dangerfield's specials was angry someone like myself, a woman, was headlining. He broke his ass to assure me he was no novice. Note, I have not found his name anywhere on any Dangerfield Special. Anyway, he intentionally run his fifteen minutes to thirty. I was supposed to follow him. The crowd was tired and they were leaving the room as I was onstage. I was a young woman? Why should he treat me with dignity? Anyway it was a shitty night. But here is the thing. My TV credits are real. I don't have to lie. I don't have to do a bitch stunt against a young person because they scare me. My books are real too. Oh and since that time I have been on TV quite a bit and I have a feeling he is watching me with his ugly, dyed blonde, tacky arm ornament that he calls a girlfriend.
And then around that time I was being worked to death at a New York shit, rat, regrettable hell pit that shall remain anonymous. Despite a lot of things I was being treated like a stray dog. Yes I made them a lot of money. Yes I revived a dying mic. Yes I had more current TV credits than many of their male headliners and mine werent in the 1990s. But as a woman my life is just harder, period. (Just like their dicks when they lie about advancing my career). Anyway, one evening I decided I had enough. I told the manager I was working under he either gives me what I wanted or I was done. This veteran comedian who doesn't do anything but whine tried to justify stuff and I let him have it. That is when he went to the club owner and said I had an attitude problem. Well I quit a few months later after putting said club on television. What do those fucks do? Answer, a year later they call me begging me to take my job back. The idiot who took over got sick of being treated like a dog, even though he bragged he took the spot of "the bitch who never showed up." I just remember saying, "Listen, I have just published a book, have a single that is number one on the internet, and am pitching a TV show in Hollywood. My schedule is full. Thank you for the phone call." And I hung up.
I almost wanted to say, "Do you own a TV bitches cause me and my puppet babies have been on OWN." But nah. I am sure they saw my book on The Official Website of Britney Spears.
As things are beginning to happen for me there is always a lot of fear in the back of my mind. I was at this same place careerwise back in 2008-2009. I had opened for Aretha Franklin. I had been on Rachael Ray. I had been on the Soup. People were talking. I had been on Cinematherapy. I start a lot of sentences with "I" because I am an egomaniac who only has her career and puppets. Anyway it all dried up. I found myself on the street flyring when the market popped outside the door of places I once went to film. It was the ultimate slap in the face. It didnt matter how famous I was. It didnt matter....There is so much of me that is afraid of that happening again. I am unrepresented. Therefore as someone who is indie I have to push harder. Meanwhile I have been on TV more than my friends who have wasted their time with agents and managers who blindly submit them. But I am so scared of losing my momentum.
On the other hand, I am older, wiser, and less of a basketcase. Not to mention unlike then I have seriously paid my dues. While older male headliners simply view me as a piece of ass because that is how they view all women, I have. Maybe I am not fat and ugly needing to talk about my period like a lot of female comedians (who's keeping women back now bitches) but I have paid my damn dues. Oh and here is the kicker, I am not giving up. While there are a great many people who would like the basketcase back I am not giving up. And TLC and OWN keep playing me quite often as does the Travel Channel.
I am not allergic and against getting management like I was a few months ago. If I continue on the upswing I might need it. Also, not all of them are stupid and lazy. I know my brand. Someone who desperately loves comedy probably has a financial wet dream about someone like myself. Not to mention my book is only gaining more momentum. I have dollar signs on my ass and I am not even a porn star.
I am awfully glad Amy Schumer has her own show. Although I have never met her, I find her funny. While she is different than I am, which is fine, it is a good thing not just for her but for all women in comedy. It means the tide is changing which is good. It means you don't have to be hideous and unshaven in order to be found funny. You can be cute and adorable without being Rita Rudner. While I have nothing against Rita, those of us who are not so refined have always been held to that bizarre man safe standard of woman in comedy.
Fuck it. I am not jealous of anyone getting their own thing. I know where I am going. I know that I am doing. Just get out of my way world because if you do not like it I am running you down.
The only thing I fear is not getting mine and getting what I want. The world not seeing the dues I have paid and the youth I have given up. The universe not rewarding me for the desperate, dateless nights because I threw away romance to chase a pipe dream that a man and a baby would ruin. And yes, coming to the conclusion that life isn't fair. Of course I am scared I will lose my momentum. That I will stagnate. That I will always be an shoulda been who got on TV a few times that now hangs out at venues where dreams go to die bitching about the good old days. That when I am old and my looks fade, that I am just a no one with nothing to show for her effort.
On the other hand, I know I am a little afraid of getting what I want. With the taste of fame I have gotten I found out who my friends are and are not. I have never had to watch my back more in my life. I am reaching for the people above me to let me in the party, and hoping the people I left behind in the trenches don't shake the latter thus making me fall down. Hell I remember once I went to a mic just to get out and this guy asks, "Where have you been? We haven't seen you." He didn't ask because he was curious. The next words out of his mouth were, "So those TV credits didnt make a difference." Yes, TV credits. Things you will never get you idiot.
Either way, I am climbing the latter one slippery (or slippy as I said growing up) step at a time. I have never been one of those comedians who has had her career handed to her. I have never been a part of the cool kid clique. I have never been a part of any clique. I have just been myself. Sure, I have never done it the way they wanted me to but I am closer to being a household name than any of those stupid, dumb fucks.
This is my style.
These are my words.
I take my hits with my rock hard abs standing like a man.
If you don't like it here is my foot up your ass.
Love
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
Her crazy made the latter part of February and early March very interesting. From her trying to copy my wardrobe, to her putting up a video when I did, and then of course there was the video where a girl named April was getting her head beaten in. Did I mention she was calling me and hanging up and blocking her number? The thing that triggered her insanity was that my ex was reading my book. But he proposed to her and now she is leaving me alone. The whole thing did test my sanity and serenity. Now she has announced she is writing a book of poetry. Curiously, she announced this when my ex began reading my book. Who knows? Who cares? I am just glad she is leaving me alone. Needless to say it made things interesting. I have to put this in the act sometime.
Lately I have been living in hope, joy, angst, and fear all at once. It is a bizarre state of being. I have a lot of good things going on. First thing is first, I have a book signing at an Ivy League School. My audiobook is also coming out in a month. If I have not sung their praises enough my sound engineers are fabulous. I have also taken the steps to get extended distribution for my book. This means not only will I be more readily available in America but also Europe, Asia, South America, Australia, Africa, and for the penguins in the South Pole. I have some big venues interested in doing book talks. Plus another project I am involved with is in the second phase of planning. There are a lot of awesome things going on in my life.
On the other hand there is some angst and fear I am feeling. First, there was a paperwork error in the system with my book. In essence, it is available in a chain store as an ebook but not as a paperback which is losing me lotsa money. Yesterday I took a huge step with the Vice President of my publishing house to correct it. However it has been angst on the level of a stomach ulcer. Then while my audiobook is being edited and I know I am (probably) in good hands with my sound engineers, I have this fear the studio will burn down because one of the rappers in there is smoking a blunt with his gal pal in the bathroom and accidentally lights the place on fire. I know it will probably not happen. But my mind is just that insane. I am also afraid no one will come to my book signings.
Of course then there are things just denied to me sometimes. While I have been on TV a million freaking times and fans recognize me on the street sometimes I am bumped by some (male) comedian who was on some stupid show a million years ago that was dumped by his management. Yet somehow he still has the pull to put the fear of God in people and bully them around to get what he wants. Yes mutherfucker, I have been on TV more than you in the past two years. Actually, in the past two years I have been on TV more than YOU EVER WILL BE YOU SPOILED BASTARD WHO HAD AN EASY LIFE. And I wrote a book. Yes, book. See, book. B-o-o-k. None of your fans even know you anymore. Maybe I should start acting like an asshole to get what I want. Oops, as a woman if I do the same thing I will be labeled as crazy and they will call me a bitch. But do I care? Fuck that shit, yo. Then again maybe he and his ego as well as his career, washed up on the shores of the land of hasbeen, won the battle. But bitches, I am winning the war.
I remember a few years ago I was at a show and I was headlining. This guy who believed himself to be a comedian, ha ha, and lied about being on Rodney Dangerfield's specials was angry someone like myself, a woman, was headlining. He broke his ass to assure me he was no novice. Note, I have not found his name anywhere on any Dangerfield Special. Anyway, he intentionally run his fifteen minutes to thirty. I was supposed to follow him. The crowd was tired and they were leaving the room as I was onstage. I was a young woman? Why should he treat me with dignity? Anyway it was a shitty night. But here is the thing. My TV credits are real. I don't have to lie. I don't have to do a bitch stunt against a young person because they scare me. My books are real too. Oh and since that time I have been on TV quite a bit and I have a feeling he is watching me with his ugly, dyed blonde, tacky arm ornament that he calls a girlfriend.
And then around that time I was being worked to death at a New York shit, rat, regrettable hell pit that shall remain anonymous. Despite a lot of things I was being treated like a stray dog. Yes I made them a lot of money. Yes I revived a dying mic. Yes I had more current TV credits than many of their male headliners and mine werent in the 1990s. But as a woman my life is just harder, period. (Just like their dicks when they lie about advancing my career). Anyway, one evening I decided I had enough. I told the manager I was working under he either gives me what I wanted or I was done. This veteran comedian who doesn't do anything but whine tried to justify stuff and I let him have it. That is when he went to the club owner and said I had an attitude problem. Well I quit a few months later after putting said club on television. What do those fucks do? Answer, a year later they call me begging me to take my job back. The idiot who took over got sick of being treated like a dog, even though he bragged he took the spot of "the bitch who never showed up." I just remember saying, "Listen, I have just published a book, have a single that is number one on the internet, and am pitching a TV show in Hollywood. My schedule is full. Thank you for the phone call." And I hung up.
I almost wanted to say, "Do you own a TV bitches cause me and my puppet babies have been on OWN." But nah. I am sure they saw my book on The Official Website of Britney Spears.
As things are beginning to happen for me there is always a lot of fear in the back of my mind. I was at this same place careerwise back in 2008-2009. I had opened for Aretha Franklin. I had been on Rachael Ray. I had been on the Soup. People were talking. I had been on Cinematherapy. I start a lot of sentences with "I" because I am an egomaniac who only has her career and puppets. Anyway it all dried up. I found myself on the street flyring when the market popped outside the door of places I once went to film. It was the ultimate slap in the face. It didnt matter how famous I was. It didnt matter....There is so much of me that is afraid of that happening again. I am unrepresented. Therefore as someone who is indie I have to push harder. Meanwhile I have been on TV more than my friends who have wasted their time with agents and managers who blindly submit them. But I am so scared of losing my momentum.
On the other hand, I am older, wiser, and less of a basketcase. Not to mention unlike then I have seriously paid my dues. While older male headliners simply view me as a piece of ass because that is how they view all women, I have. Maybe I am not fat and ugly needing to talk about my period like a lot of female comedians (who's keeping women back now bitches) but I have paid my damn dues. Oh and here is the kicker, I am not giving up. While there are a great many people who would like the basketcase back I am not giving up. And TLC and OWN keep playing me quite often as does the Travel Channel.
I am not allergic and against getting management like I was a few months ago. If I continue on the upswing I might need it. Also, not all of them are stupid and lazy. I know my brand. Someone who desperately loves comedy probably has a financial wet dream about someone like myself. Not to mention my book is only gaining more momentum. I have dollar signs on my ass and I am not even a porn star.
I am awfully glad Amy Schumer has her own show. Although I have never met her, I find her funny. While she is different than I am, which is fine, it is a good thing not just for her but for all women in comedy. It means the tide is changing which is good. It means you don't have to be hideous and unshaven in order to be found funny. You can be cute and adorable without being Rita Rudner. While I have nothing against Rita, those of us who are not so refined have always been held to that bizarre man safe standard of woman in comedy.
Fuck it. I am not jealous of anyone getting their own thing. I know where I am going. I know that I am doing. Just get out of my way world because if you do not like it I am running you down.
The only thing I fear is not getting mine and getting what I want. The world not seeing the dues I have paid and the youth I have given up. The universe not rewarding me for the desperate, dateless nights because I threw away romance to chase a pipe dream that a man and a baby would ruin. And yes, coming to the conclusion that life isn't fair. Of course I am scared I will lose my momentum. That I will stagnate. That I will always be an shoulda been who got on TV a few times that now hangs out at venues where dreams go to die bitching about the good old days. That when I am old and my looks fade, that I am just a no one with nothing to show for her effort.
On the other hand, I know I am a little afraid of getting what I want. With the taste of fame I have gotten I found out who my friends are and are not. I have never had to watch my back more in my life. I am reaching for the people above me to let me in the party, and hoping the people I left behind in the trenches don't shake the latter thus making me fall down. Hell I remember once I went to a mic just to get out and this guy asks, "Where have you been? We haven't seen you." He didn't ask because he was curious. The next words out of his mouth were, "So those TV credits didnt make a difference." Yes, TV credits. Things you will never get you idiot.
Either way, I am climbing the latter one slippery (or slippy as I said growing up) step at a time. I have never been one of those comedians who has had her career handed to her. I have never been a part of the cool kid clique. I have never been a part of any clique. I have just been myself. Sure, I have never done it the way they wanted me to but I am closer to being a household name than any of those stupid, dumb fucks.
This is my style.
These are my words.
I take my hits with my rock hard abs standing like a man.
If you don't like it here is my foot up your ass.
Love
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 1, 2013
See me at the PIT
Come see my show tonight at the People's Improv Theatre at 9:30, 24th and Lex
Featuring Josh Potter and Rob Cantrell.
No, I will not have May Wilson attack Rob.
Yes, I will be selling my book
On that note today is May Wilson's birthday. She is the worst roommate ever and is already drunk. I hope she sobers up for tonight's show
Featuring Josh Potter and Rob Cantrell.
No, I will not have May Wilson attack Rob.
Yes, I will be selling my book
On that note today is May Wilson's birthday. She is the worst roommate ever and is already drunk. I hope she sobers up for tonight's show
