Sunday, December 19, 2010

Picture Says A Thousand Words

Sure I don't know how to rotate the photo but maybe fate will send me a romantic partner I can verbally abuse. Until that time I need to take the verbal abuse from May and we need to get ready to shoot for Wealth TV
One of my fave pics of myself. My ex-fiance took it. We got engaged on the third date and the whole relationship ended in disaster complete with seperate mailing address. Maybe he didn't want to be gainfully employed let alone treat me with respect, but he did take a good photo of me.
Two and a half years ago this photo was taken. At the time I was dating a guy who bored me to death and had a mother and lady friend who both need to burn in the pits of hell. Rest assured though, this photo was taken on the day that I decided to stop being faithful to that prick. No wonder I looked so happy......someone was doing more than snapping with the photog man ;)

Getting ready for the Red and White Party. May was in the suitcase. Yes, I don't know how to rotate the photo and spend much too much time around gay men.



Awkward Moments in Singing Telegram Delivery

Tonight I was delivering a singing telegram, a princess to a little girl. Anyway, I was dressed from head to toe in my perfect Disney-esque costume. I sang “Someday My Prince Will Come” and put a crown on the child and even let her keep the wand, all purchased at the local dollar store for four bucks. Anyway, the telegram was well received and I got a nice tip. So I went upstairs and got changed back into my street clothes to get back to the train station.
When I got downstairs I waited for my ride and storming in their living room comes a blonde woman in tears. She says to a guy who looks like he could be the heart throb on Staten Island Days of Our Lives, “Your wife is a bitch.”
The guy, who looks like his name is Joey or Sal says, “Excuse me?” And then she repeats herself. Te guy shrugs and walks over to talk to me. He figures screw this shit. This is a cat fight and I ain’t getting involved. So a few seconds later this woman walks out. She looks like an older version of J Wow from Jersey Shore after fifteen years of marriage, too many hard bar nights, and two kids plus stretch marks. So she says to this woman, “What’s going on?”
This blonde woman is now steamed up and says, “You are a bitch. What the fuck did you have to say that about my dog? Don’t you know my dog has cancer.”
“I was just kidding.” The older J Wow apologized.
Meanwhile my ride was looking for his coat and couldn’t find his keys. The entire time he gave me an awkward look as if he wasn’t planning on this stranger seeing how dysfunctional his family could be. So as he ran around the husband Sal, the Staten Island heart throb, approaches me to hit on me. He says, “I’ll take Cinderella home.”
Figuring things are already awkward enough I said, “Want to be Prince Charming.” As soon as I said this another guy at the party offered to take me back to the train station. Needless to say, for as entertaining as this cat fight was over the cancer dog I figured this was the perfect exit.
Sigh…..

Saturday, December 18, 2010

We hate you heidi jones

 
I'm a lying bitch whore cunt and I am even giving the Nazi salute. Setting back the women's movement a few hunded years, yay!

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Break on Through (The Doors)

Lately I have had the blues. The holidays always do it to me. I don’t know what it is. When Christmas comes I am fine. When the New Year comes I could care less. It’s another year, big deal. However before Christmas it is always blue to the point where Billie Holiday and I could drink some whiskey. She would be singing. I would be bobbing my head along. I don’t know what it is. Actually I do.
I have been thinking a lot about my friend Roger who passed away two months ago. In my heart I knew he was going to leave this Earth and perhaps his passing would have been a blessing. My friend was ill. It was asthma, a heart condition, Hep C and yes the big old HIV. On top of that he had caught syphilis along the way. Roger did every drug there was aside from weed (he said that made people stupid even though he did crystal meth and heroin). Priding himself in once being one of the biggest pushers in NYC, he sold drugs to Angel Melendez, the dealer and eventual murder victim of Michael Alig. When he walked, he walked the runway with the Revlons nabbing every ball title there. Roger was the real deal. I remember he would call me at two o’clock in the morning just to talk because his meds made it impossible for him to sleep. Once I told him I wished he was making the stuff he told me up. Roger would  say, “I don’t lie. I am such a jerkoff I would probably screw it up.” And then he would let out that cackle that would make the fact that he pissed me off by waking me up fade.
Roger wasn’t dumb. He knew he was going to die. Yet he insisted on partying harder than ever. Towards the end I had to distance the friendship because he was getting too crazy. His health was deteriorating yet he kept picking up men in restrooms and online. As a friend, it was upsetting to see someone who was already down kick themselves even more. Roger wasn’t crazy though, he knew he didn’t have much time left so he was going to party it up in any way he could and it was something that I didn’t understand then but do now. One doc wanted him to go to cardiac rehab, but Roger elected to go to Puerto Rico. Although he didn’t live to make it out there, yours truly was invited. For some reason with Roger I always was. Whenever he was in the hospital he would always ask that someone let me know where he was. Roger didn’t trust very many people but for some reason he trusted me. He described us as a fag and his hag. Then we would trade raunchy sex jokes as we checked out guys. OF course Roger would also point out who dealt drugs, was into leather, worked as a high price hooker or was a gay porn star on our walks through Chelsea. When Roger got a huge settlement in a lawsuit involving a car accident, he shamelessly took me out for sushi and even spung for a mani/pedi for yours truly. There were people grabbing at Roger for the money the government gave him and the money he gained in the lawsuit, but he wouldn’t budge for them. Roger did things on his own terms and he had to like you. For some reason he always liked me.
I remember finding out that he died I wasn’t surprised. Roger had been sick. He also had been a God awful patient. One time he called me to visit him in the hospital and he complained that he hated the food and he wanted a pizza. I got him a greasy slice and he ate like a starving African child. Then the doctor came in and said to him, “Your cholesterol levels have shot up.” Roger would have an evil grin on his face and I would give that look as if I had just been used as an illegal pizza connection. The doctor would leave and Roger would say, “How else was I supposed to get dream boat to talk to me?” While I would want to strangle him myself, somehow I couldn’t because I was too busy laughing.
However when I found out Roger died it was after they had buried him. The whole thing came as a shock because well, it was kind of fast. I realize his family had their reasons for keeping a lot of his friends away from the funeral because of the circles Roger had once run in. Those circles led Roger to do drugs, sell drugs, commit credit card fraud, and ultimately become a guest of the state for two years. Roger never made the decisions he did because he was dumb. No, if you spoke to him it was in fact the opposite. He rolled the system and got Gucci. That takes brain power. Roger’s problem was that he was born in the world where there was no place for him yet it was too small for his liking anyway. Sure his family never accepted the gay brother or gay son, but no runway in the world could be big enough for the sparkles this diva threw and if you threw shade at my boy he would put you in a black hole, end of story. Plus there was probably lots Roger was never busted for because unlike many a criminal he knew never to brag. Once his twelve sponsor told him to start sharing. Roger replied, “Hell no. I don’t want to incriminate myself.”
The crazy thing is, I didn’t feel the sense of loss with Roger until recently. The week of his death I was busy filming an indie that I had the lead in and also doing work for a project I pitched not to mention just working a lot period. It seemed a mute point to cry. Somehow Julissa, John,Joey, Jorge, Adira, Amy, Bobby and some of the others were easier to let go of. However I wasn’t nearly as close with them as I was with Roger. Plus many died rather quickly, while Roger wasted away over time. He went from the Queen of the Runway who even went to Paris on his illegal funds to someone reduced to being in hospitals, living with family, and sleeping with a diaper. All because he wouldn’t and couldn’t stop rebelling and running.
They say people are put in our lives for a reason, a season, and a lifetime. I know part of being Roger’s friend sometimes was not choking him sometimes. I know part of being Roger’s friend was seeing him sick. Also, part of being Roger’s friend being able to let go when he died because it was inevitable. I now know the reason for our friendship. Roger was placed in my life as a wakeup call to educate me about a series of yets I had to encounter. We both were attracted to men who were bad for us, particularly the ones that were married, and liked every second of a chaotic romance that could . We were kindred spirits. That’s why it was never a problem for me to elude security at St. Luke’s Roosevelt in order to stay passed visiting hours. We were kindred spirits. And that’s why he always got pissed when I took chances with men who were below me because he knew it would cost me dear. Let me tell you Roger had some choice words for me on several occasions. Too bad he never lived to follow his own advice.
For as painful as it is I think it is time I stop being a bad girl. I had my fun. It is no longer a contest once your friends start dying. In a way it will be weird because it is what I know so well, bad boys and the wrong kind of people. Sometimes part of me still wants to up a girl when she talks about the bad guys in her past, but I know I one up them all by having a prison escapee as well as an assorted collection of other less than desirables. Still in the end what is the prize? My friend got about a billion trips to the hospital and a billion more doctor’s appointments all expenses paid by Medacaid. And for the people who think I am becoming vanilla by not wanting the same degenerates guess what? The April who is vanilla is doing well with her life and has real friends. If that makes me a softie because I want to go somewhere and change to make something out of myself then so be it. Who needs the approval of the hardcore people who’s lives are spent rebelling without a cause and acting like entitled children? Who needs street cred when in the end it just leads to the Land of Bad Decisions, a place that is nothing but hell, a hell that I escaped and have no intention of returning to.
Right now I am sort of parallel parked in the Land of Feelings and fucking hate the scenery. It’s what an old blog reader of mine used to call it. She told me to stay there for a while even though it hurt. Though we don’t speak, partially because things ended badly with her son who I was dating at the time, it was good advice because this too shall pass. While it will pass for me, my friend never got to this destination because for someone who was the life of the party what was ultimately inside was too scary to look at and facing the sadness over a world that rejected him was too much. These days I have compassion for people who have HIV and have been involved in some activism as well as outreach and education for people both gay and straight to remove the stigma. I also am somewhat active in LGBTQ politics, in particular rights for homeless LGBTQ youth, because that had been a cause Roger had championed. Most of all, I detest prejudice or homophobia in any form. God knew what he was doing when he made Roger as well as any gay person out there, and if God doesn’t make mistakes. If He wanted them straight they would have been born straight. End of story.
Still, why did I have to come to these understandings as a friend of mine wasted away in front of me? Why couldn’t Roger have lived? Even sick why didn’t he slow down for a few minutes? Why did he have to dance into the wind as fast as he did? I remember the scene in Philadelphia where Denzel Washington tells the kid who tries to pick him up in the drug store, “It is behavior like this that ages people fifty years.” While the quote was ugly it was true because I saw it happen right in front of my eyes with my boy, who the last time we spoke mentioned he had picked up a bug chaser in a doorway. I remember Roger was disgusted because this kid was seeking HIV whereas Roger knew it was a bunch of crock. Being positive didn’t make Roger a member of a community like all bug chasers allege, but rather it made him feel more isolated because of the stigma, and that is why he lived faster and faster even though he continued to fade away.
On my door hangs pictures of old movie stars as well as many of the people in the documentary Paris is Burning. In addition are other drag queens who are successful, some that I have worked with. Among them I have placed Roger’s photo because that is where he would have wanted to be. There is a nasty text from a wannabe boyfriend who is less than desirable wanting free service, a facebook message from an eighteen year old kid with some nasty wording, and an incoming call from a married suitor I once had wanting to rekindle the spark even though he won’t leave his wife.
 Yet out of the corner of my ear I hear the words Roger once said to me when I was talking shit and bragging about being stupid. He said, “Sweetie, you see how sick I am. You don’t want this.”
In honoring Roger’s memory I am going to continue to do well with my life and shy away from making stupid decisions. Sure, it might be hard to say goodbye to the bad boys and the shady friends who were such characters. However my friend didn’t give that up and that’s why he is no longer with us. When the world lost Roger they lost one of the smartest, funniest, and most genuine people that ever walked this Earth. I buried one of the greatest friends I have ever had. Although he will always very much be alive in my heart, it is time I bury that part of my life too.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Top 10 Sports Movies

Every year, since my baby sister Brenna won the Wendy’s High School Heisman, I get to go to the Heismans and partake in the festivities. I count sports luminaries such as Archie Griffin, two time Heisman winner (the only one in the history of the game) as well as Janet Hill (mother to NBA great Grant Hill and wife NFL great Alvin Hill). So during this weekend I always think of my favorite sports movies of all time. Because two things bring America together, sports and sports movies.
10. Necessary Roughness- A guy who was a college football great of sorts comes out of retirement to play major league ball and there is even a new love interest. As I remember, there is also quite a butt scene. It is funny, cute and in the guy gets the girl. What can I say? I am one for cheesy endings and  one for boy meets girl. Though the guy did turn into a loser before coming back to the field, why can’t I snag a football player?
9. The Last Boy Scout-This is a combination of Bruce Willis working with retired pro football player Damon Wayans. The film is a combination of comedy and a combination of blowing things up, two things Damon Wayans did before we went nuts and Bruce Willis did before he got old and fat. Either way, still a favorite.
8. Sand Lot- What summer baseball season can’t start out with watching this movie about a bunch of neighborhood misfits playing baseball in a sand lot? It is a combination of baseball, hi-jinx and coming of age that still tickles my heart to this day. There is something about an unathletic fat kid with a Jew fro that still warms my heart.
7. League of Their Own- Well Duh. I have to love this one. It has my girls Rosie O, Queen Madge, and Geena D. Aside from being a complete chick flick that makes me laugh, cry and am glad I am a woman so I can get away with these things, it gave us the famous line, “There is no crying in baseball.” How many times a day do you say that?
6. Sixth Man-This is a combination comedy and tear jerker about a kid who’s brother dies in a freak accident while shooting b-ball, but comes back as a ghost to help the team win. While it is hoaky and predictable it makes me laugh after all these years and not to mention has a special place in my heart because me and my smurfette Sco (Smurfette being little sister and Sco her nickname. Relax my folks weren’t that hard up) are quite close.
5. Any Given Sunday-It’s Jamie Foxx, Cameron Diaz and the lure of professional football. With a mix of comedy, drama and gritty truth it gives you a glimpse of what these made to play pro football pulverizing machines go through. Also, it is the scene where LL Cool J and Jamie Foxx had their famous off the camera fist fight. A must see, especially since it’s Ollie Stone in charge of the directing.


4. Angels in the Outfield- Yes there had to be a Disney film that made the list. This one is funny as Roger, a disenfranchised foster child’s dead beat father informs him that the only way they will be a family again is if the Anaheim Angels win the pennant. So coming to Roger’s rescue is a guardian angel named Al who not only tickles the funny bone helping to deliver a heart warming, family friendly story. It is one of my favorites of all time and teaches us about what is really important in life.
3. Major League-Yes I said Major League. Funny as hell. LMFAO. Charlie Sheen before he truly went cat shit crazy. Still gets me laughing after all these years when he plays the non-acting acting role of the bad boy always getting into trouble. Makes me laugh and makes me look forward to the Yankees.
2. The Blind Side-The true story of how Michael Orr of the Baltimore Ravens went from being a big, shy, quiet homeless indigent who wandered in and out of foster care to being adopted by a white family who not only became his legal guardians but fearlessly called him their son even going so far to put him on the Christmas card. In addition it is fun to see Sandra Bullock give an Oscar winning performance sticking it to Jesse James. Also, the husband of Sandra Bullock’s character has the best line after meeting Michael Orr’s tutor played by Kathy Bates, “Who’d ever think we’d have a black son before we knew a Democrat?”
1. The Express-A classic, this is the lifestory of Ernie Davis, the first black Heisman. Until this movie came out, the story of this young man was not told. Hailing from Elmira, New York, he played for Syracuse in the days of segregation and racism, going so far as to experience a riot as a result of his presence in the Cotton Bowl as well as not being escorted out of the banquet soon after receiving the Best Player Award because he happened to be black. Ernie Davis unfortunately succumbed to leukemia before being able to suit up for his first pro-game. However, the film paints a young man who was not only a talent on the field, but a true class act off. A role model and a hero for people of all races, people like Ernie Davis are what the scandal tainted world of pro sports is missing these days. As a bonus now not only have their been plenty of black Heisman winners, but his people now dominate the sport. Hey, good thing we ended segregation, otherwise pro football would be a bunch of white guys who wouldn’t run.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Wonder Woman and May

These two girls, fierce as can be, stole their wardrobe from Katherine Withuwhip and Harmonica Sunbeam. Finishing touches were added by Miss Rox Lotsacock
 

Friday, November 26, 2010

Black Friday

It is the day after Thanksgiving and sadly I hardly know what to do with myself. I have gas, terrible horrible turkey gas. It is an embarrassing sort of thing. As a matter of fact all day long I have been gassing it worse than some poor Mexican living on an all taco diet. I am talking like someone who should be on The Blue Collar Comedy Tour. Then again I did have the pleasure of appearing in a commercial with Jeff Foxworthy and do remember he was a nice guy. Still this turkey makes someone embarrassed to go out. How will I ever find a suitable man with a job?
I am currently at Myrtle Beach at the shore with my family. So far it has been a good trip. My brother and his wife came in. It is so weird having my brother married. He has currently been married for eighteen months. There are some half way houses and drug programs that give chips and things for people who stay clean and sober for eighteen months. Plus if this was a celebrity marriage it would have been over already my brother was so quick to point out. All and all they enjoyed their beach walks. They also thought it was funny that they were in medical school and I was on a medical reenactment show.
We all went to the mall which was interesting. The people were out and about. At the Dollar Store we saw a whole new species of white trash and other genetic mutations. Then again, you get such mutations in dollar stores everywhere. We made an attempt to score with some hot guys and ended up talking to some marginal men at the scrub store. They told us how they dressed in scrubs telling women they were doctors in order to score. Maybe it was better that didn’t work out.
I also almost landed a sugar daddy this morning. I was walking on the beach in my bikini and bam. He was an old man and told me I looked great and asked how old I was. Maybe it was better that didn’t work out.
It seems I have grown so much as a person from last year to this year. Aside from everything I have been doing with myself I feel as if I have grown leaps and bounds and am happier than ever. Maybe I am growing in faith, but my heart feels lighter and I am enjoying my life. As I watch The Blind Side I know it’s gonna be alright. Love April

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Dancing in the Wind

When I was in college my junior year I was a mess. For starters I had a messy living situation where two of my roommates were abusing drugs. Meanwhile they would always turn on me as the bad guy for not doing my laundry as constantly as they did but what they were doing was illegal. On top of all of that I found myself engaged to someone who was sucking all the life blood out of me. The relationship was a disaster but what had become a snowball was becoming an avalanche that was consuming me. As you could imagine my mind was not always on keeping my eyes on the prize. The classes that were easiest for me were a breeze however those that were more difficult and took more effort for me were an unwelcome challenge to a woman being eaten up by the outside world. One of those classes was dance.
I remember my dance teacher at the time was a man by the name of Jeffrey Ferguson. Jeffrey had been a dancer with both the Joffrey Ballet when they were located in NYC and also toured the world with Alvin Ailey and his dancers. In his fifties Jeffrey could move better than the rest of us. Sounds incredible right? Well my plan was to hide in the back the entire year and copy off of my neighbor. He would never know the outside world was kicking my ass and I was less than engaged. Not to mention while tumbling had been my strength as a kid, keeping the rhythm had been my weakness. I figured Jeffrey would never know I was choosing to take the hour and fifteen minutes allotted to teach us how to dance as space to drown my thoughts in my fiancé and my impending roommate doom.
Wrong. Jeffrey knew right off the bat what I was up to. The first day of class he told me to pay attention not once but three times and told me right off the bat, “I see tremendous potential in you.” Translated, Jeffrey was like Santa. He knew who was sleeping and he knew who was awake, and if I chose to be an errant student in this class I would get my ass beat. Right off the bat Jeffrey let me know that my boy problems as well as my roommate problems were not welcome in to walk through his door in not so many words. Taking a deep breath while it was the kick in the behind that was being firmly delivered and that I desperately needed I dismayed because it was going to be a long year. Being a standup comedian dance was low on the list of priorities. I knew my quirkiness and puppets would open the doors for me. However when Jeffrey entered the building it moved up several notches on the ladder.
I thought about faking an injury to get out of dance class. Maybe I could take another singing elective. My voice was getting decent because I was starting to train it. Not to mention mask and gesture was one of my favorite classes because of my continual work with puppets, and Carlos and I got along swimmingly because of my free use of my imagination. Or maybe another movement class with Michael who adored me as well as the ideas I brought to each different assignment that I did. I also thought of a third acting class but two that lasted four hours every week were enough. So I decided to hang in there and dance.
There were times where I struggled, like how I cried my eyes out my first tap class having never danced. Then there were times I shined and got it, especially when I chose to get out of my own way. Still, even when I wanted to quit Jeffrey never gave up on me. Sometimes it meant telling me he was proud of a mountain I climbed that day in class. Sometimes it was letting me know the answer was not to tune out when I felt everything was overwhelming me. Sure I was probably one of his most errant students but somehow he always had faith I would get it.
My last day of class with Jeffrey I let him know I would not return the following year because I was graduating. I figured Jeffrey would have been stoked that he would never have to deal with me again. Not to mention I thought I was getting married and dance was the last thing on my mind. Instead of saying “good riddance” because after having me in class maybe he wanted to, Jeffrey told me something that I will never forget as long as I live. He said to me, “Don’t ever give up on yourself. You can do anything you want to in life, remember that.”
I always remembered those words. I remembered them when I eventually had the courage to break off an engagement to a man who was unhealthy for me in every way possible. I remembered them when I graduated from college, moved into my own apartment, and took the risk of a quirky job in order to pay rent. I have remembered them every time I set foot on a standup stage and tackled an audience that has been a challenge. I remembered them when I cleaned up my life and started anew.
Yes I have danced since graduation. I am not dance captain and have since moved to the middle of the line. I don’t let choreography overwhelm me either. Maybe I didn’t join Ailey like Jeffrey did and tour the world but I have the courage to do so many things that words do not cover them because of this class and this man, time step included.
Thank you Jeffrey. Thank you for pushing me and giving me the ability to dance into the wind. And now I live my life fully and courageously dancing, leaping, spinning, as fast as I can. Above all things my moves are tight, my mind is present, and I am pointing my toes. Love April

Monday, November 15, 2010

Blast From the Past

The other day I looked up a girl I hated online out of morbid curiosity. To make a long story short she was a high school sweetheart of an ex boyfriend of mine that tried to make a comeback when we were together. Fat and sleazy as she was, this dumbass managed to get knocked up before leaving high school. You would feel bad because she was a teen mom right? Oh no, she called me a slut because older guys liked me when meanwhile, when my ex went away to the service she screwed a thirteen year old kid. This bitch called my men cradle robbers, she plucked them out of the womb. This fat reject was also a vocal member of the I Hate April Group when this particular ex started it after we broke up and would bad mouth me every chance she got.
                I was just curious to see what she was up to in hopes maybe she got a life. The last time I checked this woman worked part time at a preschool, liked New Kids On the Block still even though she was pushing thirty, and not to mention she faithfully tuned into Z100 and MTV as if she were a tween girl. While I hated her guts and swore to God I would kick her ass if I ever got the chance something in me always stopped me from throwing the first punch. It was the fact she was a step above the retarded bagger at the local supermarket hired to be there and a quota for the local union.
                Well I checked to see what she was up to. Sure enough nothing had changed. She was as fat as ever and the illegitimate baby she popped out back in the day had gotten as fat as she was. Typically I don’t attack children but this child looked like the poster girl for white trash trailer child. The worst thing was the mother would photograph this child eating. As a cherry on top of the cake this woman bragged about going to the New Kid’s on the Block reunion concert and having Donny kiss her which is horrific in itself not to mention she is pushing freaking thirty. She also lists Justin Beiber amongst her favorite music to listen to. This bitch is old yo. Oh and she lists MTV as her favorite TV station. Yes she still works at the day care center with children which is also frightening.
                I guess what someone once said to me was some people are in what’s called your past, because you pass them up and move on. The crazy thing is, I used to hate this girl and want to pound her face in because she was trying to steal my man. Truth of the matter is my man was a trouble maker who sleazed around whenever he could. Currently he wants to be friends but he is an ex, which means I put the big old X over him and out of my life. What is so sad is that this girl was at my ex’s beckon call after our breakup eager to do his bidding to make my life miserable. It’s because he had been her last boyfriend before some acquaintance she barely tolerated made her pregnant and now she strapped to this man for the rest of her life. She somehow always thought my ex would rescue her when meanwhile he can’t even rescue himself. The worst part is the man who gave her some of the best times in his life gave me some of the worst times in mine.
                This woman, if I dare call her that because she’s got a mature body, though rotund and a tween brain, is right where I left her. In a way I got a laugh because she is as tragic as ever. But in a way I am kind of sad, because she is as tragic as ever.

Stand Back

Just got a message from my ex. He made me give up ventriloquism in order to be with him. I said no. Of course this was up there with controlling how I dressed, who I spoke to, and in the end wanting me to leave my mother. After six months puppet free I left this man. Let me just say I think May was a better decision. Rest assured for as much as she gives  me a headache, she has been with me through bad relationships and heart breaks. Other people ask her for love advice so maybe hers in good. Either way the bitch is going no where, because May Wilson is fierce. 
Alone we cannot do what we do together, and together these two fiece blondes rock

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Random Pics



 A year ago I was performing ventriloquism in WillyB. Miss May and I were nearly attacked by a drunken duranged homeless man after May failed to fulfill his wishes. May, having been through an ordeal, was brave enough to share about all she has been through on national television. Homeless people who seem duranged and puppets apparently do not make a good mix. May is feeling better these days and is making more and more trips out of the case. Unfortunately for a while she was reduced to using drugs and alcohol to deal with the pain of the assault. Still, she is a fighter and that's why we love that slut. I posted this picture because while dealing with assault has been tough for May, this is a photo she loves because she was about to get down and dirty with the microphone



Happy Veterans Day

As we all know today is Veterans Day. We celebrate those who served our country, died in the war or God forbid, went missing in action. To many of us the meaning is lost. The school kids look at this as a day off. For some districts this is when they do the parent teacher conferences and the kids hope they don’t get a bad report for all the shiteous behavior they normally engage in. Other kids catch up on trashy day time talk shows and cartoons. Teachers view it as a day off where they are free from all the screaming Susie’s and Jimmy’s and their equally more annoying errant parents. As for those who work in the banks, the post office or any other government sanctioned position they are sleeping in today counting their blessings that this is one day they have off that many others do not. I must say this is insulting to me as an American.
I have always vocally opposed the war in Iraq. There were no weapons of mass destruction and in the 1980s, we seem to forget, Reagan and Saddam Hussein were friends. However there was oil and money involved and that’s when things went south. Nevermind that unlike the rest of the Arab world, Saddam gave the people universal healthcare, the right to choose, the women were allowed to work, and basically it was a free democratic society. Yes he did kill those that opposed him but what do you call the Patriot Act? However much I opposed the war I will say one thing, I still always supported our troops.
I have several classmates who went to fight in the Middle East. Our local magistrate who was affiliated with the armed service was a military judge in Afghanistan for a tour during that time. The brother of one of my older brother’s former high school football team mates went over to fight in the Middle East. His family put the USMC flag in the front of their window next to the American flag waiting for their son to come home. We all thought George W. Bush was a dufus in my family. However, in church when we prayed for the troops this young man was always at the top of our prayer chain.
Another of my classmates, Russell Kurtz, died in action. Russ was a good guy who was liked by everyone who has the privilege of knowing him. He was a member of the football team, National Honor Society, and a few other clubs. Russ was one of those people who was always laughing and had those around him laughing as well. Despite the fact Russ had good grades he chose to join the military to go to Iraq because he had always wanted join since he was a kid. Though it was war time he didn’t complain, and according to those close to him the only thing he ever griped about was the food in boot camp. Russ was killed in action when his army jeep met with a planted bomb. I would never say my former classmate was a killer or that he died in vain for a useless war and a useless cause. Rather I would call him a hero who served his country who is remembered as he should be on this day.
Then again, Americans are apt to celebrate and remember only what they want to. Take the Vietnam War for example. Unlike the previous wars, none of these men received a hero’s welcome. As a matter of fact many of those guys who fought in one of the most violent wars America had ever encountered were ousted from society. Drafted to end Communism in a country who could never feasibly invade the United States, a draft was imposed. These guys, all the average age nineteen, couldn’t drink or vote but could die for their country. This was truly a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight. Many of the rich stayed in college getting useless advanced degrees while the poor were forced to tough it out in the jungles watching their friends die and deal with boobie traps that included a net revealing a hungry Bangle Tiger as well as the ever present jungle rot.
What was even more criminal was that some of them became POW/MIA. I am not talking John McCain but Antonio R. Sandoval, Jr. He was eighteen years old from San Antonio, Texas when he went POW/MIA. My brother gave me his POW/MIA bracelet for my seventeenth birthday because it had occurred right after 9/11. My mother told me the goal was to wear the bracelet until he was returned. Sandoval was never returned as far as I know, but they think they found his bones a few years ago when the Cambodian government turned them over. While finally a part of him could go home, and for that reason it is important his memory is kept alive and his story is continually told.
Vietnam was something the American government should be ashamed of and the treatment of those veterans was equally as horrific. They had no assistance or jobs coming home. As I said earlier, it was a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight. My dad remembers being a part of the draft lottery and lucking out by getting a high number. However he remembers seeing kids from his block go off to fight in the jungle and coming home in a body bag if they ever came home. One kid who had a crappy home life on my dad’s street even volunteered. Which brings me to another point, many of these guys don’t join the army because they want to fight. It might be to escape a craptacular home situation and this is a viable option that gives them healthcare and a possible career as well as a trade. After the war many of these guys suffered from PTSD as well as drug addiction much like my uncle’ brother who, after many years of going from crack house to crack house with his hooker girlfriend, is now is a nursing home. These men served their country and were shuffled aside like useless lawn flamingos. Should we not take a moment to honor them?
Both my grandfathers served in the Pacific Theatre in World War II. My dad’s dad, whom I never met, went to Japan after the war and told stories about children eating out of trash cans and would get angry when my dad and his siblings would waste food. Hate to say it, for as fucked up as America is we still have it better then the rest of the world, especially the places that we bomb. While dropping the atomic bomb did cost thousands of lives and left a generation of Japanese children suffering from leukemia, it was a move that spared thousands of American lives that would have been lost during a land invasion. Truman was between a rock and a hard place, and in a war there is no true solution that is fair.
My mom’s dad rarely talks about World War II but always says that the Americans respected the Japanese because when the bomb was dropped they went back to work rebuilding their cities. Today the Japanese are some of our strongest allies. Gone are the time of kamkazi pilots and Tojo with a chorus of Tokyo Rose. America makes mistakes too such as putting thousands of Japanese Americans in internment camps when there was not one traitor amongst them. However, while this day is a day to honor our heros today is also a day to remember those mistakes, seeing that we have one in Cuba right now called Guantanamo Bay.
Wars for as much blood shed as they have put forth have also gotten America to be the world super power that it was. In 1763 the British won the French and Indian War taking over a large chunk of North America making English the mother tongue. In 1785 we won our independence from the British making us the first country to have ever defeated this naval and world super power. In 1812 we let the British know we weren’t about to be recaptured and let them force our men to be sailors. (Today they are fabulous allies). In 1836 Texas won it’s independence from Mexico, and then in 1848 the United States kicked Mexico out of Texas, California and most of the Southwest giving us states that are very valuable to the structure for several reasons.  Of course 1865 brought an end to the American Civil War, which pitted brother against brother and not only kept this fledgling republic united but also abolished the inhuman practice of slavery. In 1898 Teddy Roosevelt and Company charged San Juan Hill ending Spanish occupation in North America, making most of Latin America independent, and not to mention giving us Puerto Rico and Guam which serve as military bases as well as fabulous vacation spots. Then in 1918 when World War I the supremacy of monarchy ended officially ended making the United States a world super power. Then in 1945 we helped our European friends whom now needed us to stop an evil tyrant named Adolf Hitler who, though he died, actually planned to invade the US. Yes, we should have been very afraid.
In honoring the veterans, we honor the achievement of men who for better or for worse, did the job of serving their country. I am an outspoken pro-choice advocate who favors gay marriage and universal health care. However, I remember there are men who died for my freedom of speech that I hold so dear and to spout out my opinions as I do without even being solicited. As I pen this entry, I remember these men died for my right to have this here blog. These men did not die in vain but rather with the hope the world could be a better place for the rest of us.
In celebrating Veterans Day we also celebrate our history for better or for worse, how far we have come and where we have yet to improve. In closing I say let gays serve in the military if they want. They are able bodied citizens who love their country and God. Just because someone is gay does not mean they wear a boa when they fire a rifle. Take both Alexander the Great and Richard the Lion Heart, both were as gay as the day is long and both were winning generals who won battles everywhere they went intimidating opponents. Remember that the next time you don’t want them to repeal Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.
With that being said, if you can take a few minutes to think of the men and women who served our country or continue to do so. They have done more for you than this blog could ever detail.
With that Happy Veterans Day. Love April

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Hero of the Week: Kyle Maynard

This past weekend in my travels I met two things. One was a TV, something that I do not own. The other was Kyle Maynard. I saw a special on ESPN about this young man. Kyle Maynard is a congenital amputee, which means he was born without arms or legs. To boot he has no elbows or knees. So I guess you could say if we threw him in the middle of the ocean we could call him Bob right?
Wrong. The first part of the documentary details how the poor guy was born without arms or legs. But he doesn’t want us to feel sorry for him. As a kid he played football and began to wrestle. At first he constantly got beat wrestling. I mean, after all, he has no arms or legs. His father spoke about how they had goals for the guy like to win a match. As Kyle began to lose and struggle more, those goals went from winning to making an effort not to get pinned. However soon the anger began to rise up in Kyle and this muscular trunk of a lad began to win the matches. All these opponents began to know that Stubby McGee was a force to be reckoned with, and he got the starting spot on his high school’s wrestling team. I was glad it happened for the guy watching it. After all, he was working his heart out.
During the special they spoke about Kyle’s quest to fight in the MMA. They kept denying him saying it was too dangerous and that he would get killed. However, Kyle was training pretty hard. Part of me wanted to laugh as he ran around the gym looking like a hamster but the other part of me was rooting for the dude. When he got permission to fight and lost I was heart broken, because after all he had worked so hard and was so talented as a wrestler and had he closed on his opponent more maybe he could have won the fight. However there will be other fights. This is only the beginning of great things for Kyle Maynard.
Watching Kyle Maynard and hearing him speak, it is not hard to fall in love with him. The guy was born with a visible disadvantage but doesn’t make any excuses. He doesn’t give up when he can’t do something right away but rather adapts. When he falls down he only gets back up to work harder. Not to mention Kyle has never once in the evidence that I’ve seen felt sorry for himself or tried to elicit sympathy from others. Rather, he works with what he has and as a result won the World’s Strongest Teen Contest a few years ago. Because he makes no excuses Kyle lives a full productive life that includes not only a career as a wrestler and fighter but as a gym owner of No Excuses Gym, a motivational speaker, author, and male model. In addition Kyle also works with veterans from Iraq who have lost limbs. Not to mention he has a lot of friends who don’t see him as disabled, and a lot of fellow fighters who see him as a fierce opponent. And he has a smoking hot girlfriend.
My friend Joey Sanders once said it best. “In this world we have a strike or two against us so we have to work with it.” Kyle Maynard isn’t just doing the best he can with what he has. He is doing better than good. All and all, it is working out for him.
Being a champion in more ways than one, he is easily my winner of the week. All do respect, I would never call him Bob or Stubby McGee to his face. Because rest assured he could probably kick my ass on the mat or at the gym.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Leave Amber Alone

Anyone who watches MTV's Teen Mom knows that Amber Portwood hit her waste of human flesh sometimes fiance Gary Shirley. When have you known anyone named Gary to be employed and to be worth anything. For one, there is Gary Coleman. I mean, they are both fat pieces of white trash. They took their damn kid to a candy store and the child was running around eating candy on the floor. Truth be told, they are straight out of the trailor park. Once Gary goes Amber have a tummy tuck, spray on more fake tan, smoke more cigarettes, and this college drop out will do what she does best. Date ex-cons, losers, and get knocked up. Her fame will eventually fade and her next television credit will be Maury. So what she hits her fiance? If Gary were a true white trash man with some balls he would slap that bitch back. Why do I even care? God I am dumber for having written this.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Introducing Sweetie Pie Kincaid

This little puppet loves to learn to read, is currently learning cursive though it is no longer cool, and wants a pet alligator. She was truant from school the other day which is a problem. She is a Toronto Maple Leafs fan which isnt so bad I suppose. Either way, she is impressionable which makes me hate that she spends so much time with May. The last thing I need is for her to learn bad words.

May's Many Lives


 
Actress, comedian and puppet May Wilson is guilty of living nine lives. However, with each of her lives she gets better looking. This is May at the beginning of her genisis years ago when my Aunt Helen gave a Charlie McCarthy Doll a sex change. Since then May has been causing more trouble than I would care to mention and has had numerous brushes with the law. Last night she tied Teddy Ruxbin up and demanded this bear not leave until she was satisfied. While Teddy;s career fizzled out in the 80s May views him as rockin and ready. Sigh, damn puppets are always causing trouble.

When May was innocent....if such a day ever existed

Pregnant Pause

April is whining that her classmates are all having children and she isn't. When April complained about this I told her having a child would make her fat and she would need liposuction. Plus the guys April tends to date are unemployed and have been to prison. I could not bear April having a child. Not only would it make her coochie freeto stretch like Free Willy, but those stretch marks would make ex cons not even want her. I myself binge and purge and tell myself all that puking makes me pregnant bi-proxy. Call me shallow but April is a lost soul and I care. xoxox May Wilson
 
 

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Will You Still Love Me, Tomorrow? (The Shirelles)

Lately I have been thinking a lot about the past. I see a lot of my high school classmates on facebook are married and have kids. Others of my college classmates are engaged and on their way to making babies. It was only yesterday we were all hearing the bell ring and going to third period. It was only yesterday that I was dressed in too much makeup and had my Groucho Marx doll. It was only yesterday I needed knee pads for my freshmen movement class with Joanne. It was only yesterday I had dance class with Jeffrey and he rode my ass like a rented mule about staying focused, staying in the moment, and making me believe I could do anything. It was only yesterday I was on my way to Pips to do a set riding the Q train in the dead of the night and returning pretty much blitzed but having a good story that had it’s climax at El Greco’s. Then of course there was Kohli’s speech class and then the open mic at Boston.
As for guys, between seventeen and my early twenties was such a tender and innocent time. I still remember being seventeen and having the guy I wanted to take me to the dance flat out reject me. These days I would be moving and grooving reminding him about how I am doing well and it is his loss. In those days I just went to my room, closed the door, and balled my eyes out. Was it a pathetic reaction? Probably. But I was just a kid. I combed my hair before bed. I worked bagging groceries at the supermarket. My Saturdays were spent taking dance and acting classes in the city. Working towards an ultimate goal was my main objective. I had never been kissed and just wanted that much. Was that such a hefty request?
Heck eighteen felt better but it really wasn’t. There was a friend things sort of got complicated with. He was a bad boy and I was a good girl. I still remember the smell of Marlboro Reds and his beat up Caddie. I really dug him but was too shy to tell him. Plus he was the kind of boyfriend that my dad would have greeted with a shotgun. Still heartbreak sucks no matter how young or old you are. The difference is that you just learn to deal with it. The crazy thing is, after him I dated a slew of the worst guys. They were all mother’s nightmares at the core. I didn’t go after them but just like my friend had they found me and I fell for them all the same. While in the end my heart was usually broken I just couldn’t stop myself.
These days when my friends tell me they are in love I can usually find fault with Mister or Missus Right. Usually I am correct, that’s the sad part. Still in a way I wish I were wrong. I wish I were bright eyed, bushy tailed and had an open heart when it came to love. I wish a guy doesn’t ask me out and after the check comes I ask, “So how are we splitting this and who’s leaving the tip?” Not to mention poetry, when a guy reads me a love poem I want it to be an original instead of a plagiarized mixture of William Blake and Shakespeare. Trust me, I know my poetry seeing that I was a lit minor in college and that before settling on theatre as a major I juggled the idea of either being a Literature or History Professor. Then the lines, oh please.
But I want to go back to a time in my life where I believed in all the fairy tales before I realized that Disney corrupted my mind. I want to believe those love poems are real and not ripped out of the pages of a book. I want to know the guy will pay on the first date even if we have to dine and dash. Then again they say once you become a pickle you can never be a cucumber again.
Last night I was cleaning and watched Peggy Sue Got Married and Moonstruck. Both good pics and masterpieces. Nicholas Cage says it best in Moonstruck, “Love isn’t always nice or pretty.” He is damn right about that. Still for once I wish it was all tied up in a bow with a happy ending like in While You Were Sleeping.
Sigh, Hollywood has corrupted my mind.
Love April

Sunday, October 31, 2010

This Halloween

What am I doing?
I just watched Tales from the Hood and then I am going to BB Kings, yes the world famous blues joint, to participate in the Gong Show. I am curling my hair and preparing to be Xtra naughty. I went to church before all of this and saw a good friend. Perhaps this will balance out my night of sin, at least that is what May told me. Still, she informed me since there would be no sexual favors for money his was middle school field trip as far as she was concerned. Maybe I will party with someone who I have been speaking to on facebook IM. Either way I spent much too much money at Ricky;s. Everyday for me is Halloween but why does the holiday leave me so broke? Either way I am celebrating with my curlers, my fake eyes, and hairspray that left my hands too damn cold. xoxoxoxoxo

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Rubadubdub

The puppets are in the tub. Yes we all took a bath. Sweetie Pie had an important presentation at school and May....well.....the department of health called.
While Sweetie Pie thoroughly enjoyed the scrubbing don't ask and don't tell about the red on May's teeth
 

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Vogue (Madonna)

I am sad to announce the death of my friend Roger Ferrer. A few years ago when I met him, I remember being arrested by his huge laugh which could light up the room. Roger in one word was a character. He always had the scoop on everyone. Back in the day Roger had been a part of the ballroom scene. He had walked with the House of Revlon and won in the Butch Queen category several times over. Roger and his faux hawk even made a cameo in one part of How Do I Look? To me Roger was that friend who always had tales of the fast life. He had been in the midst of that nucleus where the motto was live fast and die young.
One thing I loved about Roger was his honesty. Whenever we would see someone he had beef with he would tell me right out about the beef he had with them. Or when we saw someone he knew from back in the day Roger would tell me what had transpired. I once told Roger about someone I knew who was a pathological liar. Roger laughed and said, “I could never lie like that. I am such a jerkoff I would probably screw it up.”
Roger would always tell me about the Voguing he did back in the day as a member of the ballroom scene. In addition he would also tell me about all the scams those queens used to pull. One in particular was that the ball children as they were called would lift the credit card numbers of people they knew, use them in stores, and then order the stuff they needed for their little balls. Of course the merchandise would be delivered when the rip off victim was at work and the thief and company would pick it up when the trucks came. Yes, drag queens are the reason you need photo ID when you buy things at stores with a credit card.
It wasn’t just the balls for my friend but it was the drugs as well. Roger not only sold crystal meth when it was beginning to rear it’s head in the underground ball scene, but he also used it. I remember Roger would tell me the crazy stories of the places he had been and how at one time he was even a drug connect to Angel Melendez, the victim to Michael Alig. He also told me about the partying at the Limelight before the whole bloodbath happened, and how when that transpired he switched his drug selling spot to Kinkos. Walking through Chelsea with Roger was always a trip. Someone would wave to him and he would tell me what a freak they were back in the day. Or he would tell me the dirt about the gay porn store owners because he knew them personally. Roger also knew a few gay porn stars, and one thing about him was that he was the real deal. Once a guy was running his mouth about how he was some hustler back in the day. When he left Roger turned to me and said, “Hustler huh? Uptown at Paris Duprees huh? I never saw him once and I was there.”
Unfortunately Roger also paid the ultimate price for his drug use and drug selling. After being busted, Roger spent eighteen months in prison and got released on parole. Around the time he left us Roger was about complete with this part of his sentence. He also had contracted HIV and Hep C as a result of sharing needles and the unsafe sex associated with the crystal meth lifestyle. In addition he also had a heart condition which plagued him until he passed away. As a result Roger was always in and out of hospitals. Usually, he would lose his phone again, he was always big on doing that for some reason. However, no matter where he was hospitalized Roger would always, always, always ask for me. I never knew why but he always said to someone, “Please give April my number if you get a chance. Please tell her I am here.”
It was never a problem to visit Roger in the hospital. When I did he would usually have me smuggle him in food because he detested hospital cuisine. That’s when we would gossip and often I would sneak out long after visiting hours were over. Once Roger and I were so busy talking that I stayed well after midnight and the night security guard simply chuckled and let me out. Being Roger’s friend I got to know St. Luke’s quite well. Those hospital visits were always fun in a way. Once we had a mini Vogue off where he completely creamed me. Sure, he may have been sick but once a gay man always a gay man.
Roger was indeed a gay man and always had the best advice too. Once I was seeing a guy who was becoming clingy and annoying. Roger looked at me, put his glasses to his nose and said, “Ditch the bitch and make the switch.” I still quote him to this day and always will.
One person Roger loved more than anything in the world was his little step nephew named Pumpkin. Pumpkin was the son of his brother’s girlfriend. Roger’s brother was basically acting as the child’s father though. At the time that Roger was living with his brother his task was to babysit this little boy. Every night Roger would call me on the phone rattling about how Pumpkin had said some complex word or made an association. Glowing with pride, Roger would tell me about how the child had a bright future and about how little Pumpkin was destined for great things. Roger was one who also suffered from extreme nightmares and would call me in the middle of the night panicked. Mind you he was the only one allowed to do this without me taking my hands through the phone to choke him. I would ask Roger about Pumpkin and immediately he would light up and everything would be alright.
Though Roger was gay, no question about it, he still had the macho manly streak in him. When I was with him typical of the Latino male he would walk on the outside of the street. Not to mention Roger almost always paid when we went out. He would always tell me with him women never paid. Roger would be quick to inform me unlike a lot of gay men he had dated women and also had sisters therefore it wouldn’t make him feel like a man to have me pick up the tab ever. Not to mention Roger always had an opinion about who I dated as well. Usually when Roger didn’t like the sound of them there was a reason for it. The truth of the matter was, Roger was the real deal and he could spot a fake a mile away and made no bones about it. Sometimes I wish I would have listened more. The crazy thing was at the end of the night he always got all big brother on me walking me to my door or telling me, “There are a lot of bad people out there sweetie. Get home safely.”
For as crazy as Roger could be he also was insightful and had more clarity than anyone I ever encountered when it came to speaking about what he was going through. Not to mention while even at the end Roger could not avoid the bad boys and men who were wrong for him, same as yours truly, Roger didn’t want me to share the same fate. Once I was talking shit and Roger stopped me. Gripping my hand he looked me dead in the eye and said, “See how sick I am. You don’t want this sweetie.”
Towards the end of his life Roger was a regular brunch buddy of mine in between hospital visits. We would sit outside and check out the boys rating them on a scale of one to ten. We would giggle and gossip like, or as Roger put it, “a fag and his hag.” For as ill as Roger was he dreamed of doing better things with his life. He talked about going to Aveda to become a colorist, something I thought he would have been excellent at had he lived. He also wanted to go to Paris to live for a while. When I would talk to Roger I always spoke to someone with a good head on his shoulders and a mind like a steel trap. He was someone who was much smarter than he knew he was.
One of my last encounters with Roger I had met him and we were hanging out. He had just gotten out of the hospital and was having chest pains. Being in between houses he was currently homeless and was scared to go back because he thought they would discharge him because he was faking it. The way he was clutching his chest let me knew he wasn’t. After having sushi I insisted that he go to the hospital. So I threw him in a cab, paid for it (he insisted but I told him he had bought me sushi, this one was on me) and then dropped him in the emergency room. A few hours later I got a text from him, “I had a minor heart attack. You saved my life. Thank you.”
Roger was supposed to begin cardiac rehab but he didn’t want to because instead he wanted to go to Puerto Rico. Of course he also wanted to see Niagara Falls before he died as well. We were supposed to go to the Hamptons one weekend and that didn’t quite happen. When I chastised him for being such a bad patient, and Roger had his moments trust me, he said something so profound. He said, “I am always in and out of hospitals and am sick of it. The doctors will always be there. The sunset over Niagara  Falls might not be there tomorrow.” At the time I remember being angry with him for not taking care of himself, but looking back I think he knew he was going to leave us soon and wanted to make the most of his last days. The guy was right. Doctors will always be there same as the hospitals. Go Roger.
I heard my dear friend had a massive heart attack last week and something told me to check on him. When I don’t hear from him it is never usually good. Anyway, I was busy with the career and all so it slipped my mind. But when I heard the news it hit me like a ton of bricks. For as clichĂ© as it sounds I felt like a piece of me had gone. Being Roger’s friend made me more careful with how I handled men because when you see a friend sick with HIV and other complications you wake up quickly and become very careful. Roger also made me want to stay clean, sober, and continue to fight the good fight. His body gave out long before his spirit did. I know he was proud of me for turning my life around and he basked in the glow of the fact that I was starting to make something of myself.
Once during one of my visits to the hospital  I told him I had been a part of Fashion Week with Betsy Johnson. As I was telling the story he stopped me and said, “You always  dress like you are broke. Stop dressing like you are broke when you see me.” Before I could even protest he waved his hand like he always did. As a result I started experimenting with new looks and followed his advice and the only reception I have gotten has been positive. People ask me what happened to me as if I grew a horn or a third head. Instead it was none of those things. A kick in the ass from a gay angel made me self aware and now not only do I look better but feel better.
Today as I dawn my makeup and dress in an effort to look like I am not broke I think of my dear friend Roger Ferrer. I think of a man who was always sharp, on point, the real deal, and never hesitated to call it like it was. I also think of someone who made me look within myself and not only made me dress better, but made me a better person. As I continue my climb up the ladder called life I will always remember my friend. Just because he is dead doesn’t mean that his story should not live on.
Roger sweetheart, I know you are in heaven. I know God took you because He needs angels. While we are on the subject don’t get into too much trouble with them because like me, you always want the ones that you can’t have. On the other hand, my only request is you save me one as well as a seat in the back. That way we can gossip about people like the old days. Just do me one favor, don’t get into a fight with a drag queen. This being Earth and you being in the sky I don’t know if Verizon is ever going to cover that one.
Rest in Peace Dear Heart.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Kay

Growing up I had a good friend who lied. Kay, who grew up on the poorer side of town, or the wrong side of the tracks if you will, would lie saying that her family had all these cool possessions like a limo. Kay even told us that her uncle was buried in the wall of her house, that is why the plaster and paint were cracked. Of course then there was the big screen TV. None of it was true. Her family had no money whatsoever and they were on and off of welfare. However the lies got so bold and so big that when we were in fifth grade we disfriended her for a time. My mother, angered, explained we couldn’t just disfriend her because she was friends with her aunt. Still, the lying was just too much for all of us. We didn’t care that she was poor and had no money. At the moment I am poor and have no money. What irked us was how she lied and the frequency of it. My folks at the time sided with her because they hated my other friend Erica thinking she was a bad influence and this whole thing was her idea. So we made up with Kay.
Unfortunately we thought this would teach Kay not to be such a liar. Boy were we wrong. In middle school she joined the football team and at the time I had a public access television show. Kay came on the show and lied about starting and said she was the quarterback. Everyone in her neighborhood, stoked that she was on TV, tuned in. Much to her misfortune, so did the coaches. They did not share appreciation for her imagination and made her run until apparently she puked her guts out. The truth of the matter was that Kay was not the quarterback nor did she start. As a matter of fact she sucked so terribly she was benched most of the time. While this was a doozy, I had to give her points for creativity.
We all knew Kay was a fibber but she was only getting started. Shortly after appearing on my TV show Kay called me apologizing for being scarce over the summer. I asked her why she had kept her distance and she told me it was because the little boy that her mother brought to the football games and said was her little brother was actually her son! My mouth dropped open. I asked who the father was because I had never seen her with a man. She explained his name was Andre and he was from the city. That explained everything, an evil city kid. Kay begged me not to tell anyone and I swore upon my own grave. However it irked at me and I told my mother who told me to be nice to Kay because odds are life wouldn’t and people obviously wouldn’t when they found out the truth.
A week and a half later a girl named Amanda who I was sometimes friends with sought me out. She asked me if it was true if Kay had a child. I didn’t know what to say and then Amanda informed me Kay had told her to ask me. I told her yes because Kay had sent her to me for confirmation. Well by the end of the week everyone was talking. I felt bad for Kay and tried to seek her out. Instead of crying or being mortified she didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact everyone was gossiping in our quiet little suburban high school about how she and the mysterious Andre made a baby.
Well my friend Erica, who had a love/hate relationship with Kay because of her lying streak, cornered me angrily before English class one day. “April, that kid is her baby brother.” Erica snapped.
“What?” I asked.
“Yes. I know this because I am her neighbor. My mother and I brought food to the house when we mother was in the hospital, in labor, and couldn’t cook. Kay answered the door because it was her and her two brothers home alone.” Erica said her face red with anger.
I rolled my eyes back. While Kay was a liar why would she lie about something like this? “Look, don’t kick her when she’s down.” I countered at my friend. “You hate her and now is not the time to throw daggers, okay?”
“April, she picked you because she knows you still sort of trust her. My mother is coming later to pick me up. Ask her. She’ll back me up.” Erica informed me.
Later that day Mrs. Robertson came to pick Erica up from school. She backed her daughter’s story shaking her head. “I don’t know what Kay hopes to accomplish out of this, but it is pretty sick and I have decided I want Erica no where near her.” My mouth dropped open in utter horror. Kay had screwed up major and felt no shame about this. This wasn’t a lie to pretend she had more because her family had less. This wasn’t a lie that would make anyone cool. Yet she loved every second of it. In our group of friends we could deal with Erica’s need to be a gossip, Jessie’s need to be a slut, Kayla’s need to get in trouble with strangers on IM chat, and heck Brittany constantly putting her foot in her mouth. But this was the straw that broke the camels back. From that day forward she was done.
My mother meanwhile asked her aunt about what was up with Kay and her son because she had seen Kay come to our house over the years and was concerned. Kay’s aunt, who was the nicest lady in the world, said to my mom, “Anne, that’s her baby brother. You are the sixth person who has asked me today. I don’t know why this child feels the need to lie.” My mother was also shocked and angered informing me Kay was in a bad way and I was not to hang around her anymore. She and Erica’s mother even talked later about this both coming to the consensus that there was some mental health stuff going on.
Kay wasn’t done just yet though. In tenth grade, two years after I cut her out completely, she told everyone she and her then boyfriend were expecting twins. On the school computer, in the midst of her multi-media class, Kay doctored up a picture of a sonogram. Showing it to everyone, they all gasped in horror and awe. They asked when she was due and she gave them an exact date. Rolling my eyes back because these people didn’t know her, I told them she was running a fast one. People, who didn’t know Kay and her tricks, informed me that I was being mean. However, time passed and she wasn’t showing like a pregnant woman should. So when people confronted her, especially when they saw her smoking, Kay lied and said she miscarried. I couldn’t believe she was running the same scheme now having three fake children. I went from simply being civil to going the other way whenever she went in my general direction. For the most part, so did most of the school.
Well the next year Kay said she was preggers. Most of us that knew better shook our heads in disbelief. This girl was running the same scheme for the third time! However this time it was for real. She was showing and carried a picture of her sonogram for all the world to see. The crazy thing was, the second it became all the more real Kay began to change. She sort of became nasty in a way to most everyone. With a gigantic belly, she would bump into people in the hall. One of my friends Megan told me that she was scared to run into her because one little nudge might make her deliver. Still Kay would fearlessly swear at people if they came in her general direction, especially other girls. Our student government president got the ear full about how she was just a suck up. Meanwhile this was coming from someone who could have used some of that energy in her own life. Then there was me who got the lead in the musical that year. Kay told me the musical was a waste of time and it was “foolishness.” Yes, this is coming from the woman who got pregnant because she tricked her boyfriend and lied about going off the pill.
The further Kay got and the more real it became it was almost as if she didn’t want it, except she had wished and tried for this so much that now the kid was in her belly it was too late. Little by little, she was realizing as the father of her child wavered about whether he was going to stay or was going to go that she seriously screwed up her life. It was so telling when we had a conversation at the end of junior year. I saw her in the bathroom and hadn’t spoken to her in sometime. Just to break the ice, because being seventeen and pregnant is just awkward, I asked her what she was doing for the summer. While it wasn’t the smoothest line I didn’t want to ask her who her Lamaze partner was. Kay looked at me as if I were joking and asked, “Well having a baby.”
I didn’t want to tell her that my family had planned a trip so I could see Smith, Mount Holyoke, NYU, Barnard, Marymount, Emerson and possibly Hood. I didn’t want to tell her my dreams of being an actress and TV personality as well as a writer were beginning to take shape. I didn’t want to tell her how I was becoming skilled with puppets. I didn’t want to tell her about another writing award I won. Yet that day in the bathroom she knew that we were once friends and now we were completely strangers. In her warped quest to find something she had become totally lost, and now it was as if we had never known each other.
Kay did have her son, and her aunt, ashamed of Kay’s bad decisions, but being as nice as she was, attempted to defend her. She said Kay had straight A’s when she left school for three days because she went into labor early. My dad, who knew life would be hard for my friend, got the full scoop. I remember he said, “God bless that little girl.” He had known Kay and was saddened that her life was over. I remember talking it over with the splinter section of our eighth grade crew who agreed. For as bad as Kay lied she had gotten what she wanted and now it was going to be a nightmare for her.
And it was. When I saw her at the beginning of our senior year she looked as if she had aged ten years. Always as skinny as a reed, she had lost even more weight. Though she was only eighteen, she had somehow gotten crow’s feet by her eyes. Always a bit of a health nut and gifted runner she had now started smoking to cope. One day, since the two of us were on senior early release, she offered me a ride home. At this point she barely had any friends left at school because her life had become so radically different. I was one of the few people from the old days who wasn’t looking at her weird of giggling as she walked by. It was almost as if she were eager to recapture time and couldn’t, or eager to hold onto what was clearly lost. As she drove me home she complained about her car and how she had to share the beat up ride with her mom. I asked her why she didn’t get a new one.
With big, sad, tired eyes she said, “I would but I have a son and he costs money.” I wanted to tell Dick Tracey no shit. Kids cost money. But I couldn’t. She was already discovering on her own the fantasy of playing house versus the reality were starkly different things. And the world is very cruel to single mother’s who don’t even have a high school diploma.
Kay would marry the father of her son and eventually have two more kids with him. Of course, since she captured him by having a kid, he always felt that she had tricked him. This man of course had kids with two other women, none of which he took care of. He skipped out on them and eventually skipped out on Kay as well. A year ago she contacted me out of the blue telling me she was alone with three kids after her husband left. However now she was engaged. I asked her about him and apparently he is only “eighteen but mature for her age.” Translated, she has done the big ass fuck her on life.
Looking back at it I think when Kay started lying it was to fill in something that she felt was missing in her life. Ultimately she thought a kid would bring it to her. I think Kay started out wanting a cure for one thing and ended up with a thousand other problems. I used to detest her lying and didn’t understand it. We used to term her as bad news.
However these days if I were to see her I would ask, “Have you finally found what you are looking for? If there is a God I hope you find Him now. I am sorry for your pain.”

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Seasons of Love (RENT)

I am sad to announce the recent passing of Mr. Ronald W. Tietz. For those of you who knew him, he taught both ninth grade honors history and humanities at Bethel Park High School. There are some teachers who we hate and others we simply acknowledge later forgetting. However there are few who make a direct impact and leave a lasting impression in both our minds and our hearts. Mr. Teitz was one of those people.
This man wasn’t just a history teacher, he was history. When he taught us the Declaration of Independence it was with hand motions. When he taught us Thomas Paine it was with hand motions. Then why did the colonies want to succeed from the US? Easy, the practice of mercantilism. Taking both hands to this day I mingle my fingers showing how the colonies traded amongst themselves. Still to this day I can take my thumb saying “aught oh!” The way Mr. Tietz used to. Then there was Manifest Destiny. How could we forget the projects and the posters. At the time we thought it was crazy but guess what? We all still remember.
Then there was Humanities. This was the second half of Mr. Tietz. Using hand motions he taught us the Communist Manifesto as well as John Stuart Mill. I also remember Plato and can still quote him directly. My fourth period humanities class was like a little family that year. I got to know everyone and I still talk to many of those people on facebook. One thing was for sure, we all loved Mr. Tietz.
Once during that year Mr. Tietz was sick for several days and we were beginning to get concerned. Some of the guys from the class worried that our beloved teacher was in peril almost sent a search party to his house. I remember one substitute teacher told us, “I have never met the beloved Mr. Tietz but I have never seen so many students bummed that their teacher was gone. What does this guy do to get this response?”
The answer was that he was funny, good hearted, and made learning pleasurable. Not to mention he taught us and challenged our minds in ways that benefitted us in years down the line. In addition, he was also supportive of his students in their outside pursuits. When I was on public access television, Mr. Tietz turned in. He also read my articles and not to mention he always came every year to see musical. The year I was in the Wizard of Oz Mr. Tietz was poised with binoculars in the audience. We all wondered who the man was with the specs. Then it was answered one day during study hall.
Mr. Tietz also wrote a wonderful college recommendation for my brother as well as myself. For those of us who had the pleasure to know such a wonderful individual with a vast body of knowledge and a love for teaching this is a staggering loss to all of us. My sympathies to his family at this difficult time.
Here is to you Mr. Ronald W. Tietz, to a life well led.