April E. Brucker's Blog, page 59
March 13, 2013
C is for Classy, R is for Revenge.
The other day I was riding a train to a gig and saw this couple. They were all over each other. The epitome of giving up is to be all over your loved on on a Metro North train headed to White Plains. Just saying. Anyway they were two Guido types just sucking face. And fat too. I wanted to gently tell them to get a room but what would be the use? They might just use the train bathroom and uck that up. After a minute or two the face sucking subsided and I could hold down the spicy halal chicken and rice I had for dinner. Maybe these two ugly people could go procreate elsewhere and then I wouldn't have to see the trial and error process that involved the making of a mutant Snooki.
Just then the girl says to her guy, "You have a big zit right there."
"Squeeze it." He grunts. Mind you, I think he learned to walk upright and speak a week ago, so he is showing off his new skill set.
So the girl follows orders and proceeds to attempt to squeeze his zit. She squeezes it a few times before announcing. "Baby, it popped."
Thank God New Haven, my stop was the next stop, seriously.
Then this morning I was up early and looked up an old flame on facebook. I had known him for a time and we hit it off. Basically he was hot for me, we hung out once, and then he ignored me after that which hurt my feelings. Then after four months of not seeing me he decides he wants to make a comeback but then I started dating the guy who would eventually become my ex fiance. And then this prick gave me the cold shoulder again. He was sort of spooky, chain smoking and had a habit of shoplifting. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, this love.
Well I saw he was no longer doing comedy. As a matter of fact he was selling used cars. To top it off since he quit drinking he picked up weight and wasn't a cute angry guy with a shaved head but rather a tubby hasbeen who was shaving his head to hide the fact he was losing his hair. Oh and he is engaged.
I saw the picture of his gal's engagement ring. He made a crack about being so broke he had to get her a ring from a discount jeweler. I would have said he was joking but unfortunately he is from a hick town so he was probably serious.
Then I saw the picture of the finace. She was a badly dyed blonde. I mean, blonde wasn't even her hair color. I have a feeling she was naturally brunette but she was that peroxide blonde with her roots showing. And her roots were showing badly. She was on the chunky side but her wardrobe had not gotten the memo. As a matter of fact she wore this tight fitting tops that my six year old cousin could have bought at Sears and then these tight shorts that there is no way she could breathe in. But her stomach was hanging out and so were her thighs. I mean, and they had some serious stretch marks. Then the makeup was even worse. It was this frosty lipstick that was smeared all over her lips like she was either blind, drunk, or blind drunk when she did her makeup. And the bikini picture stole the cake. She was posed all sexified in her mind with her fake trash press on nails and her legs spread ready for the activity she loves the most. And then I looked closer. Holy shit! Was that a C-Section Scar? God I did not want to know.
Either way I had to wash my hands after the encounter with that photo. I mean, I hang around May Wilson. I think I am immune to most STDs but she probably had a new and undiscovered one. Maybe I am judging her too harshly. I don;t know her. On the other hand, she liked Sarah Palin's page on facebook. I think I should keep judging her harshly.
Still the whole thing made me feel better. He broke my heart. He threw me out like trash. And now he had the bottom of the garbage bag.
I thought about dropping him a line about all the cool things I am doing and just brag about my book. But then I remembered he probably doesn't know how to read. I have only gotten hotter with time. Bet he wishes he was Mr. April Brucker bout now. E is for Ego, kids.
But C is for Classy or Classless, depending on where you are.
R is for Revenge.
Happy Wednesday poppy seeds
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available Spring 2013
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
Just then the girl says to her guy, "You have a big zit right there."
"Squeeze it." He grunts. Mind you, I think he learned to walk upright and speak a week ago, so he is showing off his new skill set.
So the girl follows orders and proceeds to attempt to squeeze his zit. She squeezes it a few times before announcing. "Baby, it popped."
Thank God New Haven, my stop was the next stop, seriously.
Then this morning I was up early and looked up an old flame on facebook. I had known him for a time and we hit it off. Basically he was hot for me, we hung out once, and then he ignored me after that which hurt my feelings. Then after four months of not seeing me he decides he wants to make a comeback but then I started dating the guy who would eventually become my ex fiance. And then this prick gave me the cold shoulder again. He was sort of spooky, chain smoking and had a habit of shoplifting. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, this love.
Well I saw he was no longer doing comedy. As a matter of fact he was selling used cars. To top it off since he quit drinking he picked up weight and wasn't a cute angry guy with a shaved head but rather a tubby hasbeen who was shaving his head to hide the fact he was losing his hair. Oh and he is engaged.
I saw the picture of his gal's engagement ring. He made a crack about being so broke he had to get her a ring from a discount jeweler. I would have said he was joking but unfortunately he is from a hick town so he was probably serious.
Then I saw the picture of the finace. She was a badly dyed blonde. I mean, blonde wasn't even her hair color. I have a feeling she was naturally brunette but she was that peroxide blonde with her roots showing. And her roots were showing badly. She was on the chunky side but her wardrobe had not gotten the memo. As a matter of fact she wore this tight fitting tops that my six year old cousin could have bought at Sears and then these tight shorts that there is no way she could breathe in. But her stomach was hanging out and so were her thighs. I mean, and they had some serious stretch marks. Then the makeup was even worse. It was this frosty lipstick that was smeared all over her lips like she was either blind, drunk, or blind drunk when she did her makeup. And the bikini picture stole the cake. She was posed all sexified in her mind with her fake trash press on nails and her legs spread ready for the activity she loves the most. And then I looked closer. Holy shit! Was that a C-Section Scar? God I did not want to know.
Either way I had to wash my hands after the encounter with that photo. I mean, I hang around May Wilson. I think I am immune to most STDs but she probably had a new and undiscovered one. Maybe I am judging her too harshly. I don;t know her. On the other hand, she liked Sarah Palin's page on facebook. I think I should keep judging her harshly.
Still the whole thing made me feel better. He broke my heart. He threw me out like trash. And now he had the bottom of the garbage bag.
I thought about dropping him a line about all the cool things I am doing and just brag about my book. But then I remembered he probably doesn't know how to read. I have only gotten hotter with time. Bet he wishes he was Mr. April Brucker bout now. E is for Ego, kids.
But C is for Classy or Classless, depending on where you are.
R is for Revenge.
Happy Wednesday poppy seeds
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available Spring 2013
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
March 12, 2013
Myself and Myself (Romeo Void)
I have been doing the whole spring fling thing. Well not really. Out of no where I find myself crushing and dating again. It is all so weird. At this point in my life I thought it would be better, easier, more fun and less stress but I am so wrong.
I have been talking to a lot of guys and for once they are all nice and have jobs. But guys make me so skiddish. It is like I am thirteen again. Suddenly I don't feel like an accomplished career woman living her dream but rather a weird girl with puppets. One guy I sort of turn red around, well I see him at least once a week. Before it was like I went in and whatever. Now it's like, "Does he notice I have coffee breath? Does my hair stink from the night before even though I washed it? Oh and does he notice I gained three pounds?" On top of that what does he think of my career?Does he know people recognize May Wilson from TV? What does he think of my singing? God I wish it were better? Does he think I am funny? Did he read my book? Is he amazed at my ability to write or does it make me weird?
It all makes me weird I decided.
I mean on the downside I am not some stupid ho with big boobs who is brainless. Guys prefer that don't they?
I dunno. It is all so complicated. They say they love you and then they leave you for some tramp that is easy. They say they want to spend time with you but really are still hung up on an ex. Or they just lie about everything. Yeah they are easy to get but hard to hold on to, like a banister smeared in butter, slippy.
On the flipside they make you play guessing games. Does she know I like her? Does she know I want to know her better? Does she know I want to take her out and blah blah blah and then when you don;t know it is all your fault.
I think I will stay single. No guy can tell me I am unfunny. They can't tell me my singing sucks. They can't tell me my writing sucks. They can't take my puppet children away.
But single gets lonely
But men are so complicated.
Is there ever an easy answer?
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I have been talking to a lot of guys and for once they are all nice and have jobs. But guys make me so skiddish. It is like I am thirteen again. Suddenly I don't feel like an accomplished career woman living her dream but rather a weird girl with puppets. One guy I sort of turn red around, well I see him at least once a week. Before it was like I went in and whatever. Now it's like, "Does he notice I have coffee breath? Does my hair stink from the night before even though I washed it? Oh and does he notice I gained three pounds?" On top of that what does he think of my career?Does he know people recognize May Wilson from TV? What does he think of my singing? God I wish it were better? Does he think I am funny? Did he read my book? Is he amazed at my ability to write or does it make me weird?
It all makes me weird I decided.
I mean on the downside I am not some stupid ho with big boobs who is brainless. Guys prefer that don't they?
I dunno. It is all so complicated. They say they love you and then they leave you for some tramp that is easy. They say they want to spend time with you but really are still hung up on an ex. Or they just lie about everything. Yeah they are easy to get but hard to hold on to, like a banister smeared in butter, slippy.
On the flipside they make you play guessing games. Does she know I like her? Does she know I want to know her better? Does she know I want to take her out and blah blah blah and then when you don;t know it is all your fault.
I think I will stay single. No guy can tell me I am unfunny. They can't tell me my singing sucks. They can't tell me my writing sucks. They can't take my puppet children away.
But single gets lonely
But men are so complicated.
Is there ever an easy answer?
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 11, 2013
Writing Right
I haven't been writing jokes like I should be for a lot of reasons. One was when I left the club that shall remain unnamed by forever live in infamy in my mind, I expected to be picked up by a bigger club. Well other doors opened. My focus became my online broadcasts, my videos with my puppet babies, and my music. And then I wrote, rewrote, proofread, reproodread, rereprofread my book. Then I released my book. Oh and my book is 333 pages. And I cut the content. Believe it or not it was almost 666 pages. I know I am the devil.
I have been performing live a lot more now. Some of it is that I do miss performing. Yes I have my attitudes knowing that being a woman works against me no matter how talented I am in this man's world. But on the other hand I am funny and like making people laugh. So I want to start writing again.
This past weekend I did a good show. Emceed in East Haven and had a good night. I had not emceed on the road in sometime. In between being in almost famous land and writer land, an anti-social place, I had not done a fire hall show in some time. It was actually fun, but I forgot how emceeing is a work out. It's like you step up on the stage, and pray to God they laugh. It was a political fundraiser and I opened with a barb at the idiot Republican opponent. Okay, got them. But as I went on it was like wowsa, some of my stuff is pretty rough sometimes. I dunno. I need to write some new shit.
They liked May but some crowds don't know what to do with ventriloquism. It's like okay, whatever. They got into it but definately wouldn't have expected it.
Either way this weekend was an indicator that I need to write more jokes. My book is done and I know I can write. Now is time to write jokes.
In the back of my mind the chip on my shoulder is working overtime. I hate open mics because I have more TV time than many people there ever will. Not to mention I feel like slitting my wrist half the time when I am there with what I see and know as anti-comedy. I don't want to go back to the club I left seeing I put them on TV and gave them a ton of press where they thanked me by firing me. I want an A-List club but I am not a young male comedian which is ten strikes against me and I am not a fat, complaining woman which is five. I have a prop. Even when I don't I am a woman who speaks out against men. I am not pretty and stupid with my legs spread like a moron either and am not willing to blow my way at the top because men are vile when they feel they are jilted. I have had it in my personal life. I don't need it in my work please.
But there is one thing I can control. I can control being funny. I am funnier than most of those bitches, especially the mom comics that I deplore-yuck. No one cares about your kids ladies. I am more famous than the regulars at the club I got fired from. Touch that bitches. They say shit about how I get my TV time but I still have TV time and those bitches never will. Maybe I am not a male comedian but most of them are morons and my Mama didn't raise no fool. I am not a fat woman which maybe the clubs don't want me but the TV does, no one wants to look at a fat ass as she stuffs her face with ho hos. I have a prop and she is damn cute. They all are, Mama Foxxx has some pretty babies. I am a woman who speaks out and I am not sorry. While I am pretty I am not stupid and attempting to blow my way to the top because you can only blow your way to the middle. Ask any of the pretty unfunny regulars at most city clubs ;).
There is only one of me and a thousand of them. Good luck standing out because at the end of the day they remember me and forget you and your stupid, hipster, at, whining beard.
On the other hand, for as much as I talk shit I do want to write again and just don't know where to start. All the talented people around me have been inspiring me. Whether it is Elaine Williams and her positive attitude that just keeps going. Johnny Watson, one of the first true friends I made doing comedy, who's energy is unmatched and just gets upgrades for no money at all. Kevin Lee, who has been doing comedy for almost as long as I have been alive and is just awesome and makes me wish I could be that awesome. Chip Ambrigio who loves comedy and even does a podcast with his kid. Larry DiFelice who is funny and makes me laugh everytime he does Stewey. And of course Johnny Rizzo who is funny as hell off the top of his head and could improvise an hour with his mad genius. The list goes on.
The list humbles me. The list wants to make me write.
Take a photo of me in my sweats. I am good at getting on TV sometimes. But don't get too close. I am busy writing new shit. Girl has to think. And we know blondes don't do that. Actually we do. Just don't tell the horny men. It will ruin their vision of love.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I have been performing live a lot more now. Some of it is that I do miss performing. Yes I have my attitudes knowing that being a woman works against me no matter how talented I am in this man's world. But on the other hand I am funny and like making people laugh. So I want to start writing again.
This past weekend I did a good show. Emceed in East Haven and had a good night. I had not emceed on the road in sometime. In between being in almost famous land and writer land, an anti-social place, I had not done a fire hall show in some time. It was actually fun, but I forgot how emceeing is a work out. It's like you step up on the stage, and pray to God they laugh. It was a political fundraiser and I opened with a barb at the idiot Republican opponent. Okay, got them. But as I went on it was like wowsa, some of my stuff is pretty rough sometimes. I dunno. I need to write some new shit.
They liked May but some crowds don't know what to do with ventriloquism. It's like okay, whatever. They got into it but definately wouldn't have expected it.
Either way this weekend was an indicator that I need to write more jokes. My book is done and I know I can write. Now is time to write jokes.
In the back of my mind the chip on my shoulder is working overtime. I hate open mics because I have more TV time than many people there ever will. Not to mention I feel like slitting my wrist half the time when I am there with what I see and know as anti-comedy. I don't want to go back to the club I left seeing I put them on TV and gave them a ton of press where they thanked me by firing me. I want an A-List club but I am not a young male comedian which is ten strikes against me and I am not a fat, complaining woman which is five. I have a prop. Even when I don't I am a woman who speaks out against men. I am not pretty and stupid with my legs spread like a moron either and am not willing to blow my way at the top because men are vile when they feel they are jilted. I have had it in my personal life. I don't need it in my work please.
But there is one thing I can control. I can control being funny. I am funnier than most of those bitches, especially the mom comics that I deplore-yuck. No one cares about your kids ladies. I am more famous than the regulars at the club I got fired from. Touch that bitches. They say shit about how I get my TV time but I still have TV time and those bitches never will. Maybe I am not a male comedian but most of them are morons and my Mama didn't raise no fool. I am not a fat woman which maybe the clubs don't want me but the TV does, no one wants to look at a fat ass as she stuffs her face with ho hos. I have a prop and she is damn cute. They all are, Mama Foxxx has some pretty babies. I am a woman who speaks out and I am not sorry. While I am pretty I am not stupid and attempting to blow my way to the top because you can only blow your way to the middle. Ask any of the pretty unfunny regulars at most city clubs ;).
There is only one of me and a thousand of them. Good luck standing out because at the end of the day they remember me and forget you and your stupid, hipster, at, whining beard.
On the other hand, for as much as I talk shit I do want to write again and just don't know where to start. All the talented people around me have been inspiring me. Whether it is Elaine Williams and her positive attitude that just keeps going. Johnny Watson, one of the first true friends I made doing comedy, who's energy is unmatched and just gets upgrades for no money at all. Kevin Lee, who has been doing comedy for almost as long as I have been alive and is just awesome and makes me wish I could be that awesome. Chip Ambrigio who loves comedy and even does a podcast with his kid. Larry DiFelice who is funny and makes me laugh everytime he does Stewey. And of course Johnny Rizzo who is funny as hell off the top of his head and could improvise an hour with his mad genius. The list goes on.
The list humbles me. The list wants to make me write.
Take a photo of me in my sweats. I am good at getting on TV sometimes. But don't get too close. I am busy writing new shit. Girl has to think. And we know blondes don't do that. Actually we do. Just don't tell the horny men. It will ruin their vision of love.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 8, 2013
Back to the Salt Mines
For a while I haven't been giving standup as much attention as I used to. Some of it was events that I just don't want to go into. Cause why? And of course I got the job with the online network and then I made music and wrote a book that I am turning into a musical. While I never stopped performing I just wasn't out every night because I was either in the studio all day putting my book in audio form, shooting for the web network, broadcasting for another web network, or recording music or proof reading and everything else. Plus I have been in the game long enough to know what will happen for me and what won't in the industry.
I know I will make it on my own original talent, skill, and merit. I know doors open for me because I am unique. I know that I will not be invited to any of the major comedy festivals because I am not a man with a funny beard (or man in general) and/or a fat woman who could easily be cast as Mimi on Drew Carey. I know that even if you are funny they can deny you, especially as a woman. But if you are famous with a large following they cannot. Not to mention names get spots all the time and most of them are the farthest thing from funny.
My MO for the past few years since the terrible split with the shithole I worked with was that I had no interest in performing unless the following things were in place. One, it was a venue that I liked. Two, it was a show produced by fans/friends where I would be paid well and treated fairly and therefore would perform for free. Three, it was an A list club where they would pack the house. I once told someone I wanted to fight for the spots I deserved and they all said, "We all deserve better spots." Then again, this is someone who hasn't done shit in years so there you go. Needless to say I don't settle. Perhaps that is what makes me the thorn in the side of the men in this industry who view me as an unwelcome guest either because I am terminally unique or because I am not on my back with my legs spread like a lot of girls who are fucking their way to the middle.
But on the flipside the calender is filling up. Tonight I am emceeing and stuff. I don't usually emcee but it's an old friend and it is a chance to perform again. I took the gig when my calender was light and plus while emceeing is bitch work it is a chance to get on my feet again. And who knows? I might suck. Plus the friend/fan shows are pouring in.
I have been getting up all week to make sure I am ready for tonight. Despite the flash of ego I put on I do get nervous. I put on the flash of ego and remind everyone who I believe I am because acting big doesn;t make me feel so small. So there it is. I have gone back to the salt mines. I detest paying for stage time, especially since sometimes there are people there who want to be cruel to me because I have gotten more TV time in a week than they will in their entire careers. There are people there angry that I am making something of myself, and that I am an independent woman doing it my own way in this man's industry where I am an unwelcome, unwanted guest. Whether it's the Neanderthal's on one end or the uber idiotic alt guys who have too many feelings and not enough talent that happen to be the right gender on the other I am carving my own path. In the past I made the mistake of taking their stupidity, and the careers handed to them because they are guys, personally.
But now I don't give a fuck.
Actually who am I kidding? I just dedicated an entire paragraph to those fucks.
I do digress though. I have been hitting the mics and shows this week and have been having more fun than I have in a while. I like being onstage again and feel more at home there than I have in a while. I don't give a fuck the shithole I am too famous for fire me. I don't give a fuck I am not male in the industry that favors them no matter how much talent they lack. I don't give a fuck I am different in an industry with no imagination that tries to box people, especially women in. I am having fun. I am funny. I am onstage.
This week has reminded me that despite the bullshit I feel in my career sometimes, largely because I am not a man, I do love what I do. There is no other path for me. There is no other high like someone saying they have seen you on TV. I have tried escaping and this has always found me. I know I get TV time easily. I know my job is to be funny. I know I am just a bundle of nerves who tries to puff herself up because deep down she feels so teeny tiny and pathetically small. I know it is because I am desperate to be loved. I know I sound like a reckless mess who is overworked and this is why I make bad decisions.
I know I need to do a better job of ignoring those fucks who are jealous and when I refer someone to my fan page because I have too many friends on my regular facebook page say, "The more friends you have on facebook the less friends you have in real life."
Oh well. I am a human girl. I have a feeling that if I keep fighting the good fight the A-List bookings will catch up to my TV time and more TV time will come. My puppet children will all get new clothes and beds, mom will get a big bed, and maybe I will get a TV.
I just have to have fun tonight. That's all.
I am grateful for the open mic salt mines.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I know I will make it on my own original talent, skill, and merit. I know doors open for me because I am unique. I know that I will not be invited to any of the major comedy festivals because I am not a man with a funny beard (or man in general) and/or a fat woman who could easily be cast as Mimi on Drew Carey. I know that even if you are funny they can deny you, especially as a woman. But if you are famous with a large following they cannot. Not to mention names get spots all the time and most of them are the farthest thing from funny.
My MO for the past few years since the terrible split with the shithole I worked with was that I had no interest in performing unless the following things were in place. One, it was a venue that I liked. Two, it was a show produced by fans/friends where I would be paid well and treated fairly and therefore would perform for free. Three, it was an A list club where they would pack the house. I once told someone I wanted to fight for the spots I deserved and they all said, "We all deserve better spots." Then again, this is someone who hasn't done shit in years so there you go. Needless to say I don't settle. Perhaps that is what makes me the thorn in the side of the men in this industry who view me as an unwelcome guest either because I am terminally unique or because I am not on my back with my legs spread like a lot of girls who are fucking their way to the middle.
But on the flipside the calender is filling up. Tonight I am emceeing and stuff. I don't usually emcee but it's an old friend and it is a chance to perform again. I took the gig when my calender was light and plus while emceeing is bitch work it is a chance to get on my feet again. And who knows? I might suck. Plus the friend/fan shows are pouring in.
I have been getting up all week to make sure I am ready for tonight. Despite the flash of ego I put on I do get nervous. I put on the flash of ego and remind everyone who I believe I am because acting big doesn;t make me feel so small. So there it is. I have gone back to the salt mines. I detest paying for stage time, especially since sometimes there are people there who want to be cruel to me because I have gotten more TV time in a week than they will in their entire careers. There are people there angry that I am making something of myself, and that I am an independent woman doing it my own way in this man's industry where I am an unwelcome, unwanted guest. Whether it's the Neanderthal's on one end or the uber idiotic alt guys who have too many feelings and not enough talent that happen to be the right gender on the other I am carving my own path. In the past I made the mistake of taking their stupidity, and the careers handed to them because they are guys, personally.
But now I don't give a fuck.
Actually who am I kidding? I just dedicated an entire paragraph to those fucks.
I do digress though. I have been hitting the mics and shows this week and have been having more fun than I have in a while. I like being onstage again and feel more at home there than I have in a while. I don't give a fuck the shithole I am too famous for fire me. I don't give a fuck I am not male in the industry that favors them no matter how much talent they lack. I don't give a fuck I am different in an industry with no imagination that tries to box people, especially women in. I am having fun. I am funny. I am onstage.
This week has reminded me that despite the bullshit I feel in my career sometimes, largely because I am not a man, I do love what I do. There is no other path for me. There is no other high like someone saying they have seen you on TV. I have tried escaping and this has always found me. I know I get TV time easily. I know my job is to be funny. I know I am just a bundle of nerves who tries to puff herself up because deep down she feels so teeny tiny and pathetically small. I know it is because I am desperate to be loved. I know I sound like a reckless mess who is overworked and this is why I make bad decisions.
I know I need to do a better job of ignoring those fucks who are jealous and when I refer someone to my fan page because I have too many friends on my regular facebook page say, "The more friends you have on facebook the less friends you have in real life."
Oh well. I am a human girl. I have a feeling that if I keep fighting the good fight the A-List bookings will catch up to my TV time and more TV time will come. My puppet children will all get new clothes and beds, mom will get a big bed, and maybe I will get a TV.
I just have to have fun tonight. That's all.
I am grateful for the open mic salt mines.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Comment whether you love me or hate me. This is the land ...
Comment whether you love me or hate me. This is the land of the first amendment. We are all entitled to our opinions
March 7, 2013
Blonde Ambition.
I have had a long last week and a half. From Thursday to today I have delivered telegrams all day, performed three of those nights when I wasn't doing things for my musical, spent one of those days in a recording studio of a platinum award winning record producer, and then I filmed a pilot too. Basically I am wiped. When my musical gets on it's feet I will be adding vocal coach sessions to that.
Monday my friend Omar mentioned he had seen me on TV. Yes, Officer E and I were on Bordain again. He had DVRed it. Anyway, I was psyched. I was tired as hell because I had been Marilyn Monroe in the Bronx that morning. While my day was over by twelve it was way up in the BXs and I really get into my girl, making sure all my songs are perfect. But this was enough to make me go yeahhhhhh!!!!! Anyway I go to Queens to see my boys and I say to my boy Derek, "I was on TV again." To which Derek replies, "I have been watching Jerry Springer all week and have not seen you once." This is why I love my friends. They keep me grounded. They keep me real.
Tuesday I was set to do an I'm Sorry Gram that got cancelled, thank God. I couldnt handle a high strung Jewish doc's wife after the working all week last week, in the studio all day Sunday and now this. WOWSA! I spent Tuesday night relaxing and being so exhausted I ended up crying at my girl's house in Brooklyn. She cooked for me which was nice. Sometimes I just need someone to cook for me like she's my mom. Plus I went to bed at nine and I never do that. Oh and I got my nails done for my pilot. Plus I got fan mail. YIPEE!!!!
I filmed my pilot yesterday. (More on that later) On my way to Port Authority to go to Jersey to film I got a phone call from someone I once worked for on a project telling them they saw me and my puppet babies on TV and how proud they were. Of course it made me feel princess and pauper in my sweats and curlers with my perfectly coiffed nails. Apparently the two who are making it from this project are Nikki Minaj and myself. While I am no Ms. Minaj I am flattered I am second to her.
Filming was a lot of fun and there were a lot of great comedians. I glammed up like I do all the time when I go onstage. May and I performed for the camera, hoping it loved us. Hoping to make the cut. Hoping and shining. With my hair styled and glammed to the max I thought, "Strut and shine, April and May."
We had our share of funny quips. Truth be told though, there was not one comedian at the shoot who wasn't funny and wasn't strong. All the stories they told were good and I actually felt flattered to be in their company. One guy had been doing comedy almost as long as I had been alive. He was particularly neat. This guy was a magician and fire eater who had been a single dad and raised his kid alone while she toured with him. He had neat stories and was fabulously talented. I was flattered and humbled to be in such company. The shoot was a lot of fun. I loved every second of it, so much so that when I left it didnt even cross my mind that I hadn't eaten all day. I was having sooooo much fun I didn't even realize I was hungry.
Of course my dad called me while my cell was off. My mom has been out of town and he had to travel for work and would be going back to an empty house. So when my dad called he asked where I was and I was like, "Ummm, filming a TV pilot." My dad wasn't shocked per se, but I think it's a guy thing. They expect us to be waiting by the phone when they call. Anyway he was like, "Oh good." And of course he being my dad asked if they were paying me and it was like "Of course." :P. But it was a good convo. I think my dad was actually happy I was working. Not that I am not working all the time. Of course never complain about working, right?
When the day ended I was happy and I was BEAT! When I changed out of my diva gear and back to my dress I found myself feeling like a little kid who stole her mother's dress in some ways. While the diva gear is fun to wear and the diva act is fun to throw around, I know I have a long way to go as far as growing into my headliner skin goes. I was around some incredible comedians and well, they were amazing. They reminded me that while it was cool I get people telling me they saw me on TV with my babies and blah, blah, blah my primary purpose behind the mic is to be funny and to get funnier. And those comedians yesterday inspired me to keep running towards that goal.
Today I woke up and ended up delivering two telegrams, a rapping chicken and then one for Stephanie Holmes. It was a favor to her work friend. We talked for a few minutes about the comedy biz. We both said we wanted someone to make us big stars and give us millions of dollars. We are both divas in training. The experience was cool. I killed both telegrams despite the long week I have been having.
I then decided with money in my pocket I was going to EAT. I figured 3:30 was a good time to get some food. I had waited almost ten hours between meals the day before. And nearly twelve the day before that. And a mere eight the day before that. So I figured it had been five hours and that was the healthy recommended normal so I went to a new Asian Fusian Eatery.
The service was excellent and as I was eating one of the owner's daughters-very sweet girl-comes up to me and asks where she knows me from. I shyly look down and without sounding too full of myself mention that I have been on TV quite a bit. And I joked and say peeps usually recognize my voice. And then she says she recognizes my voice as well. Yes, she has seen me on TV, LOL. And then I mention I perform and she says maybe she has seen me there too, LOL. We talk and she asks what shows I have been on. I mention all of them and one of them is Bourdain and apparently her dad, who is sitting right there, loves Bourdain. AWESOME. And by the way, I also ended up chatting with her dad who was cool as hell and her drummer brother who just did his first five minutes popping his cherry at Stand Up NY.
I also pulled out Officer E who made his TV debut on Bourdain out and they loved him. They took our pic and put it on their facebook page.
So SATYA! Go there if you have a chance.
As I walked to the train to the Parkside Lounge to get some stage time I realized I had left the house with a fresh face and my nails were not so perfectly coiffed. As a matter of fact my manicure was starting to chip. It was perfect. I didnt want to be a diva at the Parkside with Officer E. Sometimes I just want to cut loose, rip it up in my street clothes looking like a poor comic as my ex manager calls me. Poor comic. Poor comic who fired my MANager and got on TV.
The mic was fun and it was just a chance to laugh and have fun. I don't care about the bull shit politics or getting passed at clubs these days. My whole thing is I want to do the A rooms or no duce. I dont put too much stock into it, after all, to each his own. As a woman in this business I have ten strikes against me. Hell if I were a man I would be considered the second coming. And as a woman I am considered the second cumming, insert hack joke.
On my way home I ended up taking a cab and felt the cinder block on the shoulder return. Yes I get on TV. Yes they point a camera at me and it lights up. Yes I get recognized and get fan mail. Then why do the A rooms tell me no? Probably because I am not a man. But then my resentment towards comedy returned. I figured I could kindly remind people who I was and how famous I was. But then something told me I could get famous easily, my job was to stay funny now. I dunno, tired and more tired are a deadly combo.
And yes, maybe I am a tad famous but please give my bank account. However I had some money in my pocket and it was sleeting so I took a cab home.
Currently I am in my house wearing a black teddy and just took a bubble bath. I smell good and inset all your twisted male fantasies. Right now, I am getting ready to watch a Lifetime Movie. Maybe some man will hit a chick with big boobs and then she will hack him up. Hey, she will. It's Lifetime. It gets my rage out during women's history month and the chip off my shoulder about being a woman comedian who gets recognized for being on TV by strangers but yet gets screwed in her own backyard in favor of less deserving male comedians who just happen to be the right gender. Chip on my shoulder all the damn time.
Sometimes I just wish someone would hold me and tell me it's okay. But then I would have to get rid of them once they became too clingy. I am fucking tired. I just need to end this big wet abortion of a blog. Well the middle was good and the end just started to suck. I am FINE (Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional). I just work hard, very hard. So hard my nails are chipping and my mascara runs. I would like a gold star, please!
Of course people want to point out my big ego. They want to point out my fame whoring but they have no clue how much FUCKING WORK AND SHIT I HAVE TO EAT THAT GOES INTO IT BECAUSE MOST OF THE FUCKING TIME THEY ARE FUCKING MEN WITH NOTHING FUCKING TO SAY EXCEPT THEY ARE PISSED I GET TV TIME. I got news for the jealous bitches, yes the women, who diss me and say stuff. IT TAKES A LOT OF WORK TO BE A FUCKING DIVA. OF COURSE YOU COULD NEVER HACK IT BECAUSE YOUR LAZY ASS IS TOO BUSY BEING JEALOUS. JUST REMEMBER YOUR BOYFRIEND WOULD RATHER BE WITH ME FOR A REASON.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Monday my friend Omar mentioned he had seen me on TV. Yes, Officer E and I were on Bordain again. He had DVRed it. Anyway, I was psyched. I was tired as hell because I had been Marilyn Monroe in the Bronx that morning. While my day was over by twelve it was way up in the BXs and I really get into my girl, making sure all my songs are perfect. But this was enough to make me go yeahhhhhh!!!!! Anyway I go to Queens to see my boys and I say to my boy Derek, "I was on TV again." To which Derek replies, "I have been watching Jerry Springer all week and have not seen you once." This is why I love my friends. They keep me grounded. They keep me real.
Tuesday I was set to do an I'm Sorry Gram that got cancelled, thank God. I couldnt handle a high strung Jewish doc's wife after the working all week last week, in the studio all day Sunday and now this. WOWSA! I spent Tuesday night relaxing and being so exhausted I ended up crying at my girl's house in Brooklyn. She cooked for me which was nice. Sometimes I just need someone to cook for me like she's my mom. Plus I went to bed at nine and I never do that. Oh and I got my nails done for my pilot. Plus I got fan mail. YIPEE!!!!
I filmed my pilot yesterday. (More on that later) On my way to Port Authority to go to Jersey to film I got a phone call from someone I once worked for on a project telling them they saw me and my puppet babies on TV and how proud they were. Of course it made me feel princess and pauper in my sweats and curlers with my perfectly coiffed nails. Apparently the two who are making it from this project are Nikki Minaj and myself. While I am no Ms. Minaj I am flattered I am second to her.
Filming was a lot of fun and there were a lot of great comedians. I glammed up like I do all the time when I go onstage. May and I performed for the camera, hoping it loved us. Hoping to make the cut. Hoping and shining. With my hair styled and glammed to the max I thought, "Strut and shine, April and May."
We had our share of funny quips. Truth be told though, there was not one comedian at the shoot who wasn't funny and wasn't strong. All the stories they told were good and I actually felt flattered to be in their company. One guy had been doing comedy almost as long as I had been alive. He was particularly neat. This guy was a magician and fire eater who had been a single dad and raised his kid alone while she toured with him. He had neat stories and was fabulously talented. I was flattered and humbled to be in such company. The shoot was a lot of fun. I loved every second of it, so much so that when I left it didnt even cross my mind that I hadn't eaten all day. I was having sooooo much fun I didn't even realize I was hungry.
Of course my dad called me while my cell was off. My mom has been out of town and he had to travel for work and would be going back to an empty house. So when my dad called he asked where I was and I was like, "Ummm, filming a TV pilot." My dad wasn't shocked per se, but I think it's a guy thing. They expect us to be waiting by the phone when they call. Anyway he was like, "Oh good." And of course he being my dad asked if they were paying me and it was like "Of course." :P. But it was a good convo. I think my dad was actually happy I was working. Not that I am not working all the time. Of course never complain about working, right?
When the day ended I was happy and I was BEAT! When I changed out of my diva gear and back to my dress I found myself feeling like a little kid who stole her mother's dress in some ways. While the diva gear is fun to wear and the diva act is fun to throw around, I know I have a long way to go as far as growing into my headliner skin goes. I was around some incredible comedians and well, they were amazing. They reminded me that while it was cool I get people telling me they saw me on TV with my babies and blah, blah, blah my primary purpose behind the mic is to be funny and to get funnier. And those comedians yesterday inspired me to keep running towards that goal.
Today I woke up and ended up delivering two telegrams, a rapping chicken and then one for Stephanie Holmes. It was a favor to her work friend. We talked for a few minutes about the comedy biz. We both said we wanted someone to make us big stars and give us millions of dollars. We are both divas in training. The experience was cool. I killed both telegrams despite the long week I have been having.
I then decided with money in my pocket I was going to EAT. I figured 3:30 was a good time to get some food. I had waited almost ten hours between meals the day before. And nearly twelve the day before that. And a mere eight the day before that. So I figured it had been five hours and that was the healthy recommended normal so I went to a new Asian Fusian Eatery.
The service was excellent and as I was eating one of the owner's daughters-very sweet girl-comes up to me and asks where she knows me from. I shyly look down and without sounding too full of myself mention that I have been on TV quite a bit. And I joked and say peeps usually recognize my voice. And then she says she recognizes my voice as well. Yes, she has seen me on TV, LOL. And then I mention I perform and she says maybe she has seen me there too, LOL. We talk and she asks what shows I have been on. I mention all of them and one of them is Bourdain and apparently her dad, who is sitting right there, loves Bourdain. AWESOME. And by the way, I also ended up chatting with her dad who was cool as hell and her drummer brother who just did his first five minutes popping his cherry at Stand Up NY.
I also pulled out Officer E who made his TV debut on Bourdain out and they loved him. They took our pic and put it on their facebook page.
So SATYA! Go there if you have a chance.
As I walked to the train to the Parkside Lounge to get some stage time I realized I had left the house with a fresh face and my nails were not so perfectly coiffed. As a matter of fact my manicure was starting to chip. It was perfect. I didnt want to be a diva at the Parkside with Officer E. Sometimes I just want to cut loose, rip it up in my street clothes looking like a poor comic as my ex manager calls me. Poor comic. Poor comic who fired my MANager and got on TV.
The mic was fun and it was just a chance to laugh and have fun. I don't care about the bull shit politics or getting passed at clubs these days. My whole thing is I want to do the A rooms or no duce. I dont put too much stock into it, after all, to each his own. As a woman in this business I have ten strikes against me. Hell if I were a man I would be considered the second coming. And as a woman I am considered the second cumming, insert hack joke.
On my way home I ended up taking a cab and felt the cinder block on the shoulder return. Yes I get on TV. Yes they point a camera at me and it lights up. Yes I get recognized and get fan mail. Then why do the A rooms tell me no? Probably because I am not a man. But then my resentment towards comedy returned. I figured I could kindly remind people who I was and how famous I was. But then something told me I could get famous easily, my job was to stay funny now. I dunno, tired and more tired are a deadly combo.
And yes, maybe I am a tad famous but please give my bank account. However I had some money in my pocket and it was sleeting so I took a cab home.
Currently I am in my house wearing a black teddy and just took a bubble bath. I smell good and inset all your twisted male fantasies. Right now, I am getting ready to watch a Lifetime Movie. Maybe some man will hit a chick with big boobs and then she will hack him up. Hey, she will. It's Lifetime. It gets my rage out during women's history month and the chip off my shoulder about being a woman comedian who gets recognized for being on TV by strangers but yet gets screwed in her own backyard in favor of less deserving male comedians who just happen to be the right gender. Chip on my shoulder all the damn time.
Sometimes I just wish someone would hold me and tell me it's okay. But then I would have to get rid of them once they became too clingy. I am fucking tired. I just need to end this big wet abortion of a blog. Well the middle was good and the end just started to suck. I am FINE (Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional). I just work hard, very hard. So hard my nails are chipping and my mascara runs. I would like a gold star, please!
Of course people want to point out my big ego. They want to point out my fame whoring but they have no clue how much FUCKING WORK AND SHIT I HAVE TO EAT THAT GOES INTO IT BECAUSE MOST OF THE FUCKING TIME THEY ARE FUCKING MEN WITH NOTHING FUCKING TO SAY EXCEPT THEY ARE PISSED I GET TV TIME. I got news for the jealous bitches, yes the women, who diss me and say stuff. IT TAKES A LOT OF WORK TO BE A FUCKING DIVA. OF COURSE YOU COULD NEVER HACK IT BECAUSE YOUR LAZY ASS IS TOO BUSY BEING JEALOUS. JUST REMEMBER YOUR BOYFRIEND WOULD RATHER BE WITH ME FOR A REASON.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 5, 2013
10 Things I Would Tell Young Comedians
10. Don’t take part in gossip. It’s a waste of time and it is a bottom feeder tactic. You aren’t at open mics to make friends. You are there to have a career. Gossip will slow you down and sometimes your words might even come back to haunt you.
9. A booker will book a marginally talented comedian who is easy to get along with over a talented comedian who gets drunk, gets disrespectful with staff, and has sex in the restroom with audience members. What I am trying to say is be funny but also act professionally. After all, you are at work. 8. Not everyone will think you are funny, and don’t take it personally. Comedy is extremely subjective. There are some people who think Dane Cook should be roasted alive, others think he is the cat’s meow. Some think Tosh is a genius, I think he is a man who got a leg up because of the gender bias in this business simply because he is A MAN AND HAS NO TALENT WHATSOEVER. There are some who adore me and some who wish I would die. Bottom line, people will like you or hate you. Don’t let it ruin your day.
7. Don’t let one bad set ruin your life. Everyone bombs. Sometimes it is just a pipe bomb, sometimes it is big enough to destroy an island nation a la 1945. Let it go. There are many factors that go into tanking. Sometimes it is the night. Sometimes you are tired. Sometimes the crowd hates you because you are white, a woman, or a white woman. Sometimes it is that you are green. Either way, use it to get better. And also use it as a lesson that now you know what to do the next time.
6. Being passed at a club means NOTHING. At the beginning of my career I made it a goal to get passed at clubs that I viewed as the finest establishments. I got a lottery number, I brought peeps, you name it I did it. However I soon found out that was the biggest sand trap. Passed comedians did not get on TV or get careers. Passed comedians were lucky if they got one paid spot every three months at some dives. So just because someone is passed it does not mean their career is better. It just means they were perhaps the right gender or ethnic group to fill a quota.
5. Comedy is not fair. Everyone has a strike against them in the game. Sometimes being a certain ethnic group works in your favor if the industry is pushing it. Sometimes it works against you if the industry is burnt out on it. Most of the time being a woman, especially a young woman, will make you the pariah amongst ugly women comedians or will make male club owners think you are their fuck on a platter. That being said, every dog has their day in the dog house. It’s how you deal with it that makes you stronger.
4. Pay your dues. I have heard comedians complain about bringing and barking who have only been at the game for two months. I have heard comedians who have only been doing this a year complain about the mics. I have news for you, some of the best comedians I know cleaned toilets for several years. At one year you aren’t ready for prime time. So do what you have to do to get stage time.
3. Do not be afraid to branch out. A lot of people think standup is the only way to go. It can be a way to go, but it doesn’t mean it has to be the only thing you do. Translated, all the mice are going for the same piece of cheese. Don’t be afraid to take an acting class, do a podcast, write a blog whatever. The times my career has been most successful and fulfilling is when I am auditioning for TV shows, making my own videos, publishing books, making music and of course PERFORMING STANDUP.
2. Starve the negativity. It is very easy to make friends with negative people in comedy, especially older pros who feel the world owes them something. Being around them dampens your love for comedy and eventually you will view it as work and not as something you are blessed to have and passionate to do. Also, you will limit your own creativity and destiny by being trapped in the proverbial crap of their making. Just don’t succumb.
1. It is a marathon not a sprint. Like all races, some people start out front but then their breath dies and they drop off. I knew people hot out of the gate that years later are no where to be found, and then people who worked for years and finally took off. That being said, while standup is the starting line the finish line is different for everyone. For some the destination is purely standup. For others the destination is acting/radio. Then there are those who become writers. And then there are the folks behind the scenes as producers, club owners, and managers. The beauty is if you stick with the race and finish, no matter what your destination, everyone who finishes the race ends up working together.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 3, 2013
Sunday's Blog
I have taken on several big projects lately. One is a musical version of my book. The other is the audio version. I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel with my audiobook which is good. I am still amazed I am doing it.
I entered the studio to see Hernan Santiago, who is a platinum record producing sound engineer headed home. He had been in the studio since Friday and hadn't slept in two days. We talked briefly about stuff, shot the breeze. For the most part he is a sweet, quiet guy. You would never know he has the dog ears. Yes, his ears don't miss anything. Anyway he was headed home to catch some zzzzz's.
When I went in today my usual sound guy was out getting his life together. He left me in the hands of his intern. While the dude seemed capable it scared me a little. Granted, my boy was getting much needed sleep I was like, "AHHH!!!!" Would this dude know what he was doing? Plus this was a change of routine.
Well I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was he excellent and on task, but his ears didnt miss anything. Whenever I would do something he would stop me from time to time and say, "Do it again. You can do it better." I was like McDamn Damn. Needless to say I am lucky he didnt kill me. I was reading the chapter in my misadventures about a stalker gram sent by a cray cray woman and all the chaos that sort of followed. There were parts of the reading where I just started laughing and we had to redo them. Then he started laughing. He is a cutie like that. But yes, he was patient as hell with me and caught everything. We were talking and he said, "I am like Hernan. I have dog ears." McDamn Damn.
It was a very productive session and I was done by noon. When I got out I decided to go to church. Because most of my Sunday's are spent in the studio I haven't been going as regularly as I would like. I stop in during the week but that's not the same. I grew up going every Sunday and feel weird when I don't. Plus it is Lent. I am not super religious Catholic. I have gay friends, am pro-choice, and not to mention question the Bible quite frequently. But Catholic is one of those things you can't escape. I feel the need to eat fish every Friday. I give up things for Lent like gossipping, but it is an epic fail with all the gay friends I have.
This particular church has a lot of relics. My mom prayed with Holy Water from crazy places growing up and would sprinkle some on me the morning of a math test. I don't know if they are powerful or not but some do believe. My Mema Ralph, who is currently reading my book, has told me that I have to ask God for a nice Catholic boy. Part of me enjoys being single, and then part of me wants a man from time to time. But then I remember men are a pain in the ass and are needy as hell. And then they start to complain about being Mr. April Brucker when it discovered who the true pants wearer in the house is. Not to mention it never ends well with me an men. The ex fiance turned out to be a psychopath who beat me and deprived me of my puppets. The guy after him turned out to be a liar who had a list of psychological ailments and used them as a bragging right. The ex fiance stalked me with the help of his former girlfriends. The other guy isn't stalking me, he is just drinking on top of his psych meds. On the other hand, his current girlfriend is obsessed with me and does stalk me from time to time, but then her drug habit takes over and she is thus otherwise occupied. Of course there was Holden Caulfield. He is the man of my heart still, it's just that combined with this drug problem, alcoholism, mental illness he refuses to take meds for, and troubles with the law technically making him a fugitive it was hard to make a home. After him was Kindred Spirit, who led me to believe he liked me when he was just using me to revive his dead career. Sure, he had cache in the clubs that I didn't. But he was broke, unemployed, and hadnt been on TV in years whereas I was everywhere.
I just want to point out that all these men were Catholic. I shouldn't look in the Catholic Church for a man. I was thinking of going Jewish but then I remembered when I was twenty a Jewish man broke my heart. Dimsdale who was quite famous was Jewish, as a matter of fact he had been an Orthodox Rabbi before hitting it big in show biz. But this holy man had other issues, one being a woman who claims to be his love child.
Then I thought of it. Maybe I should go Protestant, but they are just like decaf coffee. While it is coffee it doesnt give me the kick. Then it hit me, SATANIST! Sure, it might make my mother's head explode. But compared to all the other freaks of nature I have had is this so bad?
For as crazy as it is sometimes I want someone to hold me. But then eventually they will want me to give up my career, have children, and be their slave. I can wait until I am at least fifty for that. I enjoy my freedom too much to have it taken away.
As I walked home a wave of fear hit me. I began to panic that time was running out, that my dreams would not come true. I dreaded over the work of all my projects. How sometimes I just wanted to drop the ball on this damn audiobook. Studio time is mad expensive and I pay out of my own pocket. How I wanted to crumple my musical in a ball and have someone else write it. Fuck actors, fuck composers, fuck all. My mother said these were just hoops. How would she know? Granted, she is almost always right.
That I wouldn't get my turn. Then I remembered my session in the studio. I remembered walking in, unsure of what to expect when my normal guy wasnt there. I remembered not knowing what I was getting. Then I remembered his attention to detail. I remembered his dog ears, capturing every little sound in the room. I remembered how thrilled I was that he was so on task and how good I sounded when we were done. When you meet someone with a gift like that it is not just impressive but a blessing. That's when I realized I was in good hands. Perhaps heaven had sent me an angel, if there are such things.
And maybe, just maybe, whatever was up there had answered my prayers after all
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I entered the studio to see Hernan Santiago, who is a platinum record producing sound engineer headed home. He had been in the studio since Friday and hadn't slept in two days. We talked briefly about stuff, shot the breeze. For the most part he is a sweet, quiet guy. You would never know he has the dog ears. Yes, his ears don't miss anything. Anyway he was headed home to catch some zzzzz's.
When I went in today my usual sound guy was out getting his life together. He left me in the hands of his intern. While the dude seemed capable it scared me a little. Granted, my boy was getting much needed sleep I was like, "AHHH!!!!" Would this dude know what he was doing? Plus this was a change of routine.
Well I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was he excellent and on task, but his ears didnt miss anything. Whenever I would do something he would stop me from time to time and say, "Do it again. You can do it better." I was like McDamn Damn. Needless to say I am lucky he didnt kill me. I was reading the chapter in my misadventures about a stalker gram sent by a cray cray woman and all the chaos that sort of followed. There were parts of the reading where I just started laughing and we had to redo them. Then he started laughing. He is a cutie like that. But yes, he was patient as hell with me and caught everything. We were talking and he said, "I am like Hernan. I have dog ears." McDamn Damn.
It was a very productive session and I was done by noon. When I got out I decided to go to church. Because most of my Sunday's are spent in the studio I haven't been going as regularly as I would like. I stop in during the week but that's not the same. I grew up going every Sunday and feel weird when I don't. Plus it is Lent. I am not super religious Catholic. I have gay friends, am pro-choice, and not to mention question the Bible quite frequently. But Catholic is one of those things you can't escape. I feel the need to eat fish every Friday. I give up things for Lent like gossipping, but it is an epic fail with all the gay friends I have.
This particular church has a lot of relics. My mom prayed with Holy Water from crazy places growing up and would sprinkle some on me the morning of a math test. I don't know if they are powerful or not but some do believe. My Mema Ralph, who is currently reading my book, has told me that I have to ask God for a nice Catholic boy. Part of me enjoys being single, and then part of me wants a man from time to time. But then I remember men are a pain in the ass and are needy as hell. And then they start to complain about being Mr. April Brucker when it discovered who the true pants wearer in the house is. Not to mention it never ends well with me an men. The ex fiance turned out to be a psychopath who beat me and deprived me of my puppets. The guy after him turned out to be a liar who had a list of psychological ailments and used them as a bragging right. The ex fiance stalked me with the help of his former girlfriends. The other guy isn't stalking me, he is just drinking on top of his psych meds. On the other hand, his current girlfriend is obsessed with me and does stalk me from time to time, but then her drug habit takes over and she is thus otherwise occupied. Of course there was Holden Caulfield. He is the man of my heart still, it's just that combined with this drug problem, alcoholism, mental illness he refuses to take meds for, and troubles with the law technically making him a fugitive it was hard to make a home. After him was Kindred Spirit, who led me to believe he liked me when he was just using me to revive his dead career. Sure, he had cache in the clubs that I didn't. But he was broke, unemployed, and hadnt been on TV in years whereas I was everywhere.
I just want to point out that all these men were Catholic. I shouldn't look in the Catholic Church for a man. I was thinking of going Jewish but then I remembered when I was twenty a Jewish man broke my heart. Dimsdale who was quite famous was Jewish, as a matter of fact he had been an Orthodox Rabbi before hitting it big in show biz. But this holy man had other issues, one being a woman who claims to be his love child.
Then I thought of it. Maybe I should go Protestant, but they are just like decaf coffee. While it is coffee it doesnt give me the kick. Then it hit me, SATANIST! Sure, it might make my mother's head explode. But compared to all the other freaks of nature I have had is this so bad?
For as crazy as it is sometimes I want someone to hold me. But then eventually they will want me to give up my career, have children, and be their slave. I can wait until I am at least fifty for that. I enjoy my freedom too much to have it taken away.
As I walked home a wave of fear hit me. I began to panic that time was running out, that my dreams would not come true. I dreaded over the work of all my projects. How sometimes I just wanted to drop the ball on this damn audiobook. Studio time is mad expensive and I pay out of my own pocket. How I wanted to crumple my musical in a ball and have someone else write it. Fuck actors, fuck composers, fuck all. My mother said these were just hoops. How would she know? Granted, she is almost always right.
That I wouldn't get my turn. Then I remembered my session in the studio. I remembered walking in, unsure of what to expect when my normal guy wasnt there. I remembered not knowing what I was getting. Then I remembered his attention to detail. I remembered his dog ears, capturing every little sound in the room. I remembered how thrilled I was that he was so on task and how good I sounded when we were done. When you meet someone with a gift like that it is not just impressive but a blessing. That's when I realized I was in good hands. Perhaps heaven had sent me an angel, if there are such things.
And maybe, just maybe, whatever was up there had answered my prayers after all
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
March 1, 2013
Prince and Pauper Moments
In show business it is a life of extremes. One night you are on television performing for four million people. Then the next night you are in a basement performing for four people who speak no English. It is just the way it is. I remember seeing one guy on Conan and the next week he was back to the grind hitting a mic and then getting ready to do a show. It was pretty cool actually. Or then I saw Kristin Schaal on the street and we ended up chatting. She was headed to an audition. Only days before did I see her on the big screen in the movie theatre.
I have had moments like that in my life and my world. The first was a number of years ago I was working a promotional job. The night before I had been a part of a show at StandUp NY. It had been an incredible evening because Nick DiPaolo had stopped in as well as Dustin Ybarra (Congrats man!). Anyway, the show was one of the most successful at the club and basically as a result I got VIP treatment. So the night before had been awesome, especially since JD Shapiro, writer of Robin Hood: Men in Tights had been a guest judge. Well the next day I was doing promos. It was cold out and I was not feeling so good. Plus this girl next to me was just running her mouth about nothing. Next thing I know this woman passes and says to me, "I saw you last night. You were very funny." I asked her how she recognized me. She smiled and replied, "I recognized your voice. Let us know when you are performing next."
The second prince and pauper moment would come months later when I was performing on the street in Brooklyn. My puppet children and I were doing our thing when I was approached by someone who asked, "Were you on Rachael Ray?" I said yes. She said, "You and your girl were very funny. Fuck Jerry Springer." It made me feel McAwesome to say the least.
Another moment like that was when I had three dollars to my name. I was hanging out with my friends and another buddy was there. He was a construction worker and big comedy fan. Anyway another one of my friends mentioned she performed comedy and all. This dude asked what I did and my friend said, "She has a puppet." That's when the dude did a double take and asked, "Your puppet looks like you, right?" I said yes and laughed. And then I had a picture I showed him. This guy said, "I recognize that puppet. You were on Last Comic a few years ago, right?" I was like yes, wowsa!
Of course then there was the commercial for Jeff Foxworthy. I didnt even know I made the cut until I was headed to the ATM and discovered I had fifty cents to my name. After I discovered a surprise twenty dollars in my pocket I was brainstorming on ways to live off of it. Anyway, I decided to hit the gym in order to deck something before I spent my money. That's when the folks at my gym were like, "We saw you on TV with Jeff Foxworthy. That was so funny. We were like, 'We know her!'" Needless to say I felt better. Not to mention I booked a McAwesome job the next day.
I wouldnt have one of those for the next eighteen months but 2011 were full of them. Walking down the street my puppet children and I were recognized, most often when I was headed to deliver a telegram. Of course my vids got me recognized as well. But one time I was delivering a telegram. I had waited in the cold and my hands were freezing off. It was for an Italian American family, tough as they say. Anyway, after I delivered the lady was like, "You are the puppet girl." I was like yeah. She said, "You should do that. You are really good. You have a gift for them." AWESOME!
Of course the best was when I was using a restroom on the road and it was sort of run down. Anyway I was finishing my business and these two ladies were talking about "that puppet girl from TLC." I was like wowsa, I hope they don't see me here. I have no makeup and this is a rundown public restroom. I mean, I wouldnt have minded, but if we are going to do a photo lets do it somewhere that SKANK isnt written on the wall.
The other day I was doing a show and was talking to a lady beforehand. She asked if I had ever been on TV and I said yes. Then she said she knew she had seen/heard me somewhere because she recognized my voice. I told her the same thing happened to me at a friend's birthday party where his friends recognized my voice as well. Then we joked that I better not prank call anyone. *call back!*
Of course the last two days have been full of Prince and the Pauper Moments. I went to the drug store and saw a product that I did the publicity for via internet in the early days with my puppet babies. Anyway, I got to deliver a Marilyn Monroe telegram to the CEO of Barnes and Noble. The contact was the person who was in charge of Nook Books. Well there is this book on Barnes and Noble.com and Nook that is called I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl.
So that is the hi diddly dee, an actor's life for me. Yes, it is Prince and Pauper. One of these days I dream of seeing myself on television, but first I have to get the money to buy one. One of these days I will lay in a big ol' Queen Sized bed but I have to have the money to buy one too. Not to mention I will arrive in the limo as well, bright pink. Oh shit, that costs money too. Damn, well there are people who think I have these things. Well I am flattered. I have these things in my mind.That is the first step.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang:Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
Ebook Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in Spring 2013
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I have had moments like that in my life and my world. The first was a number of years ago I was working a promotional job. The night before I had been a part of a show at StandUp NY. It had been an incredible evening because Nick DiPaolo had stopped in as well as Dustin Ybarra (Congrats man!). Anyway, the show was one of the most successful at the club and basically as a result I got VIP treatment. So the night before had been awesome, especially since JD Shapiro, writer of Robin Hood: Men in Tights had been a guest judge. Well the next day I was doing promos. It was cold out and I was not feeling so good. Plus this girl next to me was just running her mouth about nothing. Next thing I know this woman passes and says to me, "I saw you last night. You were very funny." I asked her how she recognized me. She smiled and replied, "I recognized your voice. Let us know when you are performing next."
The second prince and pauper moment would come months later when I was performing on the street in Brooklyn. My puppet children and I were doing our thing when I was approached by someone who asked, "Were you on Rachael Ray?" I said yes. She said, "You and your girl were very funny. Fuck Jerry Springer." It made me feel McAwesome to say the least.
Another moment like that was when I had three dollars to my name. I was hanging out with my friends and another buddy was there. He was a construction worker and big comedy fan. Anyway another one of my friends mentioned she performed comedy and all. This dude asked what I did and my friend said, "She has a puppet." That's when the dude did a double take and asked, "Your puppet looks like you, right?" I said yes and laughed. And then I had a picture I showed him. This guy said, "I recognize that puppet. You were on Last Comic a few years ago, right?" I was like yes, wowsa!
Of course then there was the commercial for Jeff Foxworthy. I didnt even know I made the cut until I was headed to the ATM and discovered I had fifty cents to my name. After I discovered a surprise twenty dollars in my pocket I was brainstorming on ways to live off of it. Anyway, I decided to hit the gym in order to deck something before I spent my money. That's when the folks at my gym were like, "We saw you on TV with Jeff Foxworthy. That was so funny. We were like, 'We know her!'" Needless to say I felt better. Not to mention I booked a McAwesome job the next day.
I wouldnt have one of those for the next eighteen months but 2011 were full of them. Walking down the street my puppet children and I were recognized, most often when I was headed to deliver a telegram. Of course my vids got me recognized as well. But one time I was delivering a telegram. I had waited in the cold and my hands were freezing off. It was for an Italian American family, tough as they say. Anyway, after I delivered the lady was like, "You are the puppet girl." I was like yeah. She said, "You should do that. You are really good. You have a gift for them." AWESOME!
Of course the best was when I was using a restroom on the road and it was sort of run down. Anyway I was finishing my business and these two ladies were talking about "that puppet girl from TLC." I was like wowsa, I hope they don't see me here. I have no makeup and this is a rundown public restroom. I mean, I wouldnt have minded, but if we are going to do a photo lets do it somewhere that SKANK isnt written on the wall.
The other day I was doing a show and was talking to a lady beforehand. She asked if I had ever been on TV and I said yes. Then she said she knew she had seen/heard me somewhere because she recognized my voice. I told her the same thing happened to me at a friend's birthday party where his friends recognized my voice as well. Then we joked that I better not prank call anyone. *call back!*
Of course the last two days have been full of Prince and the Pauper Moments. I went to the drug store and saw a product that I did the publicity for via internet in the early days with my puppet babies. Anyway, I got to deliver a Marilyn Monroe telegram to the CEO of Barnes and Noble. The contact was the person who was in charge of Nook Books. Well there is this book on Barnes and Noble.com and Nook that is called I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl.
So that is the hi diddly dee, an actor's life for me. Yes, it is Prince and Pauper. One of these days I dream of seeing myself on television, but first I have to get the money to buy one. One of these days I will lay in a big ol' Queen Sized bed but I have to have the money to buy one too. Not to mention I will arrive in the limo as well, bright pink. Oh shit, that costs money too. Damn, well there are people who think I have these things. Well I am flattered. I have these things in my mind.That is the first step.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang:Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
Ebook Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in Spring 2013
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
February 27, 2013
Times Square in the Rain
Last night I went to bed early. The weather has been so bipolar lately. While the Ground Hog predicted an early spring, who knows what bark in his hutch that this furred creature was smoking. So I decided to take a walk. It was raining, brought the umbrella. Why not? Better than getting soaked and sick.
Walking down the street I could see the damp, darkness that gets people depressed about New York. Actually, damp darkness could get people depressed anywhere. On the other hand, the street lights lit my way and I found a strange comfort. It was raining, that is what nature does sometimes.
Much to the chagrin of my mother. I used to enjoy walks in the rain. She would scream, "You have things to do and you can't be sick" as she would kidnap me from my trail in her minivan and then eventually peal my wet clothes off of my person. I wasn't a rebellious kid most of the time. I just think this was my way of sticking it to the man. I don't know. I am just talking out of my ass. I do that sometimes. But my mom didn't like it. Just saying.
Rain has always been an omen for me. One rainy night I was watching a ventriloquist special with my family. That Christmas I got a Groucho Marx figure. This is a skill that to date is making me quite well known. That spring on a rainy night I saw a movie called LA Confidential. I told my mother I wanted to act. She didn't say no. Instead she said, "Well, okay. If you want to do that you have to go to New York City. That's where people go to train, learn and get good."
I remember my dad didn't want me to go to New York. He thought I would get shot. He had been to the city in the 1970s and got off on the express train in Harlem and saw three black kids beating a car with a crow bar. Plus he just thought I would get raped and shot and raped again based on all the bad press my city gets sometimes, and thus letting the rest of the world know crime occurs everywhere.
Well the summer after my junior year of college we toured the Eastern Seaboard and I saw some All-Women's Colleges, many my dad's ideal picks for me. My plan was to go to one of them and then move to the city after I had been properly educated. One in particular scared the hell out of my dad. We went there and my dad saw several students with shaved heads, combat boots, and nose rings. I believe one growled at my father at one juncture but I am not sure. Sure, he had dreamed of me going there but not like this. My dad said to my mom, "Anne, what is going on here?"
To which my mom replied, "Bill, they need a place to go to school, too."
Well perhaps my dad could have dealt with the womyn population more gracefully if he didn't have to fill out a three page informational packet in order to obtain a special man permit. My father was told he had to have a man permit in order to be allowed on the campus, because ordinarily, there were no men unless permitted, hence the man permit. When we finished and my dad was able to toss out his man permit, he said, "So, April, Kid, if you want to do this for real I think you need to move to New York." Dreams have a funny way of making themselves happen I suppose.
I ended up moving to New York and the rest is history. It's funny how some of my teenage ambitions are slowly coming true. I dreamed of performing standup and now I do that in the city. I dreamed of publishing a book and I have done that. I dreamed of being on TV and I have done that. I dreamed of getting my music on the radio and I have done that. Whenever I run past MTV I chuckle because while I am not a regular I have been on there. When I walk past The Today Show I smile cause I have been on that program, too.
Yesterday I made my hometown magazine, special thanks to Matt Falsetti. Wonderful article. It was just yesterday it was raining outside and my mom said to me, "Well, okay. If you want to do that you have to go to New York City. That's where people go to train, learn and get good."
So now when I walk in the rain, I always make sure I see Times Square in the rain. It's beautiful even empty. But I dont walk to get wet. I don't walk to get fit. Although I use an umbrella I don't even care if I get soaked. It doesn't matter because rain or shine, I am walking towards my dreams.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
EBook Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in spring 2013
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Walking down the street I could see the damp, darkness that gets people depressed about New York. Actually, damp darkness could get people depressed anywhere. On the other hand, the street lights lit my way and I found a strange comfort. It was raining, that is what nature does sometimes.
Much to the chagrin of my mother. I used to enjoy walks in the rain. She would scream, "You have things to do and you can't be sick" as she would kidnap me from my trail in her minivan and then eventually peal my wet clothes off of my person. I wasn't a rebellious kid most of the time. I just think this was my way of sticking it to the man. I don't know. I am just talking out of my ass. I do that sometimes. But my mom didn't like it. Just saying.
Rain has always been an omen for me. One rainy night I was watching a ventriloquist special with my family. That Christmas I got a Groucho Marx figure. This is a skill that to date is making me quite well known. That spring on a rainy night I saw a movie called LA Confidential. I told my mother I wanted to act. She didn't say no. Instead she said, "Well, okay. If you want to do that you have to go to New York City. That's where people go to train, learn and get good."
I remember my dad didn't want me to go to New York. He thought I would get shot. He had been to the city in the 1970s and got off on the express train in Harlem and saw three black kids beating a car with a crow bar. Plus he just thought I would get raped and shot and raped again based on all the bad press my city gets sometimes, and thus letting the rest of the world know crime occurs everywhere.
Well the summer after my junior year of college we toured the Eastern Seaboard and I saw some All-Women's Colleges, many my dad's ideal picks for me. My plan was to go to one of them and then move to the city after I had been properly educated. One in particular scared the hell out of my dad. We went there and my dad saw several students with shaved heads, combat boots, and nose rings. I believe one growled at my father at one juncture but I am not sure. Sure, he had dreamed of me going there but not like this. My dad said to my mom, "Anne, what is going on here?"
To which my mom replied, "Bill, they need a place to go to school, too."
Well perhaps my dad could have dealt with the womyn population more gracefully if he didn't have to fill out a three page informational packet in order to obtain a special man permit. My father was told he had to have a man permit in order to be allowed on the campus, because ordinarily, there were no men unless permitted, hence the man permit. When we finished and my dad was able to toss out his man permit, he said, "So, April, Kid, if you want to do this for real I think you need to move to New York." Dreams have a funny way of making themselves happen I suppose.
I ended up moving to New York and the rest is history. It's funny how some of my teenage ambitions are slowly coming true. I dreamed of performing standup and now I do that in the city. I dreamed of publishing a book and I have done that. I dreamed of being on TV and I have done that. I dreamed of getting my music on the radio and I have done that. Whenever I run past MTV I chuckle because while I am not a regular I have been on there. When I walk past The Today Show I smile cause I have been on that program, too.
Yesterday I made my hometown magazine, special thanks to Matt Falsetti. Wonderful article. It was just yesterday it was raining outside and my mom said to me, "Well, okay. If you want to do that you have to go to New York City. That's where people go to train, learn and get good."
So now when I walk in the rain, I always make sure I see Times Square in the rain. It's beautiful even empty. But I dont walk to get wet. I don't walk to get fit. Although I use an umbrella I don't even care if I get soaked. It doesn't matter because rain or shine, I am walking towards my dreams.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
EBook Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in spring 2013
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
