Thursday, August 29, 2013

Being Of Service

The other day I was so tired my bones hurt. It had been a busy week in the land of The Superfoxxx. I was an overworked, tired woman trying to take on the world. Just then my phone rang. It was my boss Bruce. He wanted me to deliver a singing telegram to Sloan Kettering. Apparently, the woman I was delivering to was going through chemo and her friend in another city couldn't be there to support her. So she wanted to make her friend laugh and decided to send a black gorilla.

I always like delivering to Sloan. It's one of those places where everyone is positive. They have to be. It's a cancer hospital. I went up to the front desk and asked where the chemo room was. As to surprise the woman under the treatment, I went to the bathroom and changed into my gorilla costume. Out in my get up, I asked where the chemo room was. The doctor, who saw me, laughed and said, "This way."

I entered the chemo room, and the woman I was singing to was under the drip. Her friends there to support her were laughing like hyenas when I entered in the black gorilla costume. I sang "You Are Great," Don't Worry Be Happy," and gave the woman a little cheer. She was flattered and embarrassed. As her friends laughed, she said, "I am so happy I am not in the waiting room right now. I want to kill Amy." And then she started laughing. There were plenty of photos and laughs. And then a nurse came in and snagged me to go into the room of another patient. I gave that patient a good luck fist bump.

Both these women will hopefully go into remission. And part of their experience at the hospital, which is stressful, will be that they received a singing telegram. They will remember it as something positive mixed in with the terrifying diagnosis of the Big C and all the pain, worry, and HMO drama that came with it. They will remember how for as rotten as things were at that moment, they got to smile.

The wonderful thing about seeing success in my career is that people tell me they enjoy my book and my work. But sometimes, when things get stressful with my new schedule, I lose site of my original purpose. I decided to pursue the path I did because I enjoy making others laugh. I enjoy making the world a better place.

While my job is to be fabulous, I cannot lose track of my original mission.

That is to be of service.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Talking Funny

When I was younger I always got made fun of for the way I spoke. I sounded squeaky. The words I used were too big. The my tone was too high. It was just another stone mean kids threw. Nevermind I struggled with my weight. My mother also dressed me. I had cystic acne. Things were not going well. What I had going for me were my dreams, my love of writing, my love of creativity, and my skill to nose dive no matter how much of a fool it made me look.
When college came around, I was in New York. I asked someone for a gumband. In Pittsburgh, we say gumbands and mean rubber bands. So I asked for a gumband. These kids who were weaned on Prozac with doctor parents and went to private schools laughed at me. They didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. I already hated the way I talked and felt like a redneck who had hopelessly wandered into a Metropolis. Then there was the incident in the speech class where my sounds were hopelessly being corrected. That is when one of my teachers who was from Pittsburgh said, “It’s your accent coming out.”
The kids in my class said, “April isnt just weird.”
“No,” My teacher explained. “There is a whole city of people who talk just like this.” Awestruck and fascinated, my classmates went to a website where regional dialects were listed. That semester, our section at The Lee Strasberg Institute became obsessed with my accent and my slanguage. For the first time ever, I was alright with the way I talked.
The serenity would be short lived. During my junior year, I managed to get into a relationship with someone that was abusive. I have written about him. He made me give up my puppets and that was just the tip of the iceberg. When things were heating up between us, I was set to hang out with his friends. We were sipping coffee at Starbucks and my ex said, “When you hang out with my friends, just… it cool.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked confused.
“Look, my friends don’t like the way you talk.”
“Yeah, they say you sound like a chipmunk.” My confidence was shot. It was an arrow. My ex wasn’t defending me against his friends and now I had to compromise. I sent the session with him and his boys silent as a mime. I soon tried to change the way I talked which just made me feel like a fraud. I swore a lot which made me feel fake. I tried to drop my voice which made me feel like a man. It didn’t work. I became a phony mute about a lot of things, like the extent of the abuse I was facing. I don’t know what was worse about that part of my life, the fact I had to endure it or the fact I chose to put up with it.
When the relationship ended, I was left a self-loathing mess. I remember doing a set where someone told me the way I spoke was distinct. I thought it was their way of saying annoying. When my ex and his friends began their relentless campaign of harassment, one thing they aimed at was the way I spoke. I remember thinking that I was smarter and better than they were, and one day I had the guts to realize it and that’s how I was able to escape. That is when I realized I had let him take away my sense of self-worth. The way I spoke was okay. It was alright. And anyone who didn’t like it could go to hell.
Slowly I began to embrace the way I spoke. It not only became a part of the new, confident me. As I became more confident in my speaking voice, my singing voice began to take a better shape. Granted, it was always it’s own animal, but I better understood how to make it more pleasing to the ear. I wasn’t afraid of what people would say about me. If they didn’t like the way I spoke we didn’t have to be friends, plain and simple.
This past winter/spring Metrophonic and Mercy Sound became a second home to me. My old college classmate and sound engineer Archie Ekong explained my fans would want to hear me reading my book. Archie told me it would have a unique flavor with me narrating. Then he said, “April, you are the only one with your voice. It’s pretty distinct.”
“Yeah, that’s what people tell me. I don’t think I will get away with prank calling anyone soon.” I said.
Archie looked at me dead in the eye and said, “No.” And we both burst out laughing. At that moment I realized that it was pretty cool that I was the only one who spoke like I did.
These past few years have also seen success not only in the realms of writing but also comedy getting me television time. Sometimes fans recognize me when armed with my puppets. Other times, I will get recognized by the way I speak. The other day, I was at a meeting for a pilot I am shooting. We were deeply emerged in a discussion when the waitress came over. She asked me, “Excuse me, I have a question for you.”
“Yes.” I asked.
“Are you a comedian?”
“The guy who works with you in the back thinks he saw you on TV.” My jaw dropped open. He was in the back. There was no way in hell he could have seen me.
“How did he know it was me?” I asked.
“Oh, he recognized your voice and says you are very funny.” She replied. My jaw dropped open. This was awesome!!!! I made a new fan and friend. Something like this is double awesome when it happens at a pilot pitch meeting. My co-host and co-producer thought it was pretty cool as well.
Later that evening, I was running errands and heard two kids talking. They were taking fun of this young woman in their class at school and the way she spoke. These two mean girls mimicked her. It made me think of some of the people who gave me the same “star treatment” back in the day that now have the audacity to write me a facebook letter to congratulate me when things go well with the career. Actually, it was disgusting as it brought back a flood of hellacious memories.
Then I passed the theatre where Kinky Boots played. I remember when Cyndi Lauper did an interview where she spoke about being bullied for the way she spoke and dressed. She remarked in her Betty Boop-eque twang, “They used to throw rocks at me for my clothes, now they want to know where I get them.”
For the longest time my voice was like Rudolph’s nose. People made fun of me for having it, now it part of the package that is beginning to make me successful. Cyndi Lauper’s, it is part of the package that has made her a legend. Hopefully the young lady they were making fun of will just realize that those two are idiots who need to be ignored and won’t feed in.

Hopefully she won’t care and will always use her voice.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl 

Monday, August 26, 2013

The Responsibility to Be PosITive.

When your career starts to take off, it is really exciting. I know because I am experiencing it now. Several times a week I am in front of a camera for ITTV. I have a taping for one project, a location scouting appointment for another, and of course a conference call for a third. Of course in there my audiobook is now ready for release and there is a musical to be written. Oh and I have a book signing I am currently scheduling in my hometown. Then there is something I am doing where I have to call on West Coast Time. If this were an oven, it would be hot. So needless to say at the end of a lot of days I am tired. 

Last week I was feeling crunched. When I feel crunched I start snapping at people. From the fat woman who doesn't walk fast enough to to the idiot with the baby carriage to the gaggle of kids talking too loud on the train I want to scream. Of course I then want to throw my damn phone because suddenly it seems everyone is in cahoots to shorten my lifespan. Then there is the snapping on the phone to my mother where I seem to hate everyone. After that there is the people pleaser where I apologize to the point of masochism, and the psychotic overachiever who says "yes" to everything. Then I wonder why I feel like I am drowning.

The other day I was talking to an old friend of mine and talked about life then and now. Despite the craziness my life has become as of late, I realized something. When I was younger, hitting the mics and hoping every day and night things would start to happen, things are finally happening. I used to look at people who had big projects on the burner and would say to myself, "Someday, that is going to be me." Well guess what, it is finally me. I would pass newsstands and see magazines hoping to be in them someday. Well I was in the TV Guide already, and whenever I pass a magazine stand I see someone I have worked with or know. The other day I was in a cab and on taxi TV was Jane Pratt. I was on xoJane. Then I saw Arianna Huffington on the front of the Learning Annex. I have written for the Huffington Post!!!!! And then I walked past The Today Show and saw the people. I was on there. As a kid I was an on camera host in Pittsburgh, now I am doing that in NYC. I also wrote articles and won writing awards, now my book is available. Maybe I wasn't at the VMAs but Britney Spears plugged my book. My book was also on the shelf next to Juno Diaz who won a MacArthur Award and Ophira Eisenberg who just sold a film. I can do these things too. 

I used to dream of these things all the time. They seemed like they would never happen. And now they are finally happening. I am turning into that person, that "star" if you will that I have always wanted to be.

The other day I answered fifty fan letters I never realized I got. At first I cried about disappointing my fans, now I realize I am grateful and blessed to have them. As a kid, I used to dream about the concept of fans from everywhere. Now it is starting to happen. This is awesome. Sunday I woke up to two fan letters. I am on TV a bunch in Europe.

Yes, my work schedule is heating up. But on the flipside, I really work for some wonderful people who believe in me and have my back. Not only are they bosses, but they are friends. That is why for as crazy as they make me sometimes, I know they do it because they want to see my best work and want me to use my full potential. That is why not only don't I mind breaking my back for them, but it is an honor and a pleasure. Not to mention they value me not only as an employee but as a person. 

Yes, my mother is currently coordinating my book signing. Yes, she calls me in the morning when only God is probably up. But she is the best press person ever. My mom doesn't sleep and I am blessed to have her. End of story. 

Of course there is my assistant Masimo (Yes I have an assistant). While I am getting used to this, he is always on it. I hadn't called him this week because the annoying feminist part of me is used to doing things on her own. He called yesterday and asked, "Are you okay?" 

My boss at ITTV told me that I couldn't slack off on facebook. My fans needed me. 

My boss at the singing telegram company told me I had to stop apologizing.

My mother told me to start taking my vitamins. 

The other day I got a letter from a young woman who wants to be an actress. She told me how I inspired her to follow her dreams and how she looks up to me. I remember this letter came in the fifty I didn't know I had. I also got another fan letter from a young woman who was bullied. Another who had escaped an abusive boyfriend.

I remember having those dreams, growing up. Everyone told me they were foolish. I used to watch the television, knowing those people started foolish dreams too. I read about those fools as well. 

 I was that overweight, bullied kid who didn't have a TV. Now I have been on many of the channels I could not watch growing up. While I am not where I want to be quite yet, if I keep moving and grooving I will get there.

I dated that psycho who tried to get me to abandon my hopes and dreams. Not only did I dump him but found myself again.

Kids look up to me now. It's my responsibility to show them it's going to be okay. It's my responsibility to let them know that you should reach for the stars and settle for nothing less. It's my responsibility to let them know that for as crazy as life gets, it does get better. 

No matter how tired I feel, no matter how overwhelmed I get....

It's my responsibility to remain positive.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Friday, August 23, 2013

Steaming Naked

The other day I was at the pool. I had gone for a swim and entered the sauna. Women go in there naked all the time. I know. My first few times in there I went in with a suit on. Recently I have bitten the bullet and gone in naked. Granted, I am not shy. But still, I am naked.

I know there are some women who pose naked and have sex with large numbers of people on screen for money. How do they do it? I mean, granted, if they saw some of the people buying these videos and magazines they would probably staple their clothes onto their bodies. Not to mention the camera does not lie. If there is cellulite, a fat spot, or an ugly scar you are doneski.

I have been in the sauna a bunch of times and saw some of these chicks who ditched their clothes. Nothing wrong with being confident but knowing some of them in real time, I just know them a little better. For someone like me the idea of getting naked in the sauna is strange cause of the way I was raised. It's the Catholic I think. You cover that shit up. In church you wear a jacket and in the sauna you keep your swim suit on.

These days I get fan mail from men wanting to marry me. It's bizarre because if you knew me growing up it was much different. There were the pimples, braces, and weight problem at once. Yes, I almost have a six pack now but it's weird. I can't wrap my mind around some of the crazy things male fans say to me. In school my friends were books and words. As an adult my friends are puppets. Women like me don't steam naked. You don't picture us naked. But being on national television changes all of that I suppose. May Wilson on the other hand will get naked for you. She told me.

I am not a big waxer either. Brazilian waxing almost killed me when I was twenty two. Ho Chi Minh's long lost granddaughter-at least I think she was because she was a Vietnamese lady who was a little too happy to see me scream-kept saying, "Do you have a man?" When she kept ripping the hair from my chocha. That was the end of me being sexified. Hell they had to get me drunk to pluck my eyebrows when I was fourteen.

But steaming naked wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. I lived. It was alright. I felt good afterwards, too. Maybe I need to stop being such a basketcase about everything. And maybe Ho Chi Min's long lost granddaughter needs to torture me into beautifacation again xoox

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Can't Always Win the Trophy

This whole week has been insane. Everyone has been pulling me different ways. Sometimes they both yank my scalp at the same time. Sometimes they yank my arms. I guess this is what happens when you have a career. People expect you to do things. There have been some things that have been hard. Namingly people. Some are overdemanding. Some are children who happen to have adult bodies and want what they want and they want it NOW. Of course there are those who just want me to be two places at once. Or then there are those who value their personal lives more than their careers therefore expecting me to pick up the slack because they choose to get laid. Yes, I will say it. When you choose ass you are an ass.

Some of it is being a perfectionist. I was always a good student. I was always driven. Some of it is being a woman. I am raised to be a people pleaser because of my gender. We all are. Of course being a woman who takes a leadership position I have to be "nice" because then I am labeled a "bitch."

Yesterday I was forced to choose between two engagements. Both were good. One I had booked weeks in advance and the other was a last minute thing. I could have done both but the second moved to CT. I tried. Then the first one was cancelled. I had to see if I could get the second but a coworker of mine had already booked it. It's fine. It wasn't in the cards. Fuck me for trying to make everyone happy. Then I booked another gig, but had to cancel that because they decided the first one was back on. At the end of the day I wanted to fuck everyone with a big, black dildo. Not just any big black dildo, a monster dong. And it was going anal baby!

On top of that I went into my other folder and saw fifty unanswered fan letters. The thing about having fans is that you always want to make them happy because they love you without knowing you which is magic. I love to get to know them and insist on answering every letter personally. I am always so afraid of disappointing my fans too in a way. Everyone is when they first get a following. I always want to put out things that speak to them. And then I wonder, will my fans think I am tall enough? Stupid stuff. That made me feel like a failure.

As I was bemoaning my problems on the sidewalk, a nice construction worker type saw me. I was literally crying there like a mature adult. This construction worker dude saw me and asked me what was wrong. I wanted to tell him to get fucked. I was in no mood to talk to men. That is when he picked up my laundry bag and carried it to the laundromat. The annoying feminist in me shut up and thanked him. I admitted I was overwhelmed at work. That is when he told me he managed fifty one buildings in Manhattan and wished he had a zipper in the center of him because he too, was being pulled every which way.

I felt better for a bit and then melted down like a mature adult to my mother on the phone. My mom put it in perspective. That if I wasnt in NYC I wouldn't have either opportunity. I told my mother how overwhelmed I felt and she said that sometimes when good things happen they can smother us. My mother however, was quick to point out one must always have perspective. That keeps you grateful and keeps you from losing your mind. I have always insisted God speaks through my mother. While she drives me nuts-calling me as early as 6 AM sometimes because she is organizing one of my book signings-she is the woman who gave birth to me so she's allowed.

While I lost the high profile star studded gig I got some great news from LA on a project I am doing. It actually made up for the fact I lost the star studded gig.

The day ended with me crying to a friend of mine over a slice of pizza in the village again. Note, there was a lot of crying yesterday. My friend reminded me that our best is all we can do. She also reminded me about how I always wanted this career and should be grateful I am WORKING. I told my friend I was still Naomi Campbell cellphone throwing pissed. That is when my friend stated, "April, you can't always win the trophy."

My friend was right. I couldn't always win for as much as I wanted to. She also stated that these days, while I was concerned about letting my fans down, I had fans and I needed to concentrate on that. While I am still getting used to the idea of an assistant, I have one of those too.

I have the dreams and the career I have always wanted. Some of it is getting used to the demands of my new life. I know I will be fine. I am a workaholic. I also think deep down it's that fear that I don't deserve anything good. A fear that I won't get what I want while at the same time fearing I will get what I want. And then on top of that excited that things are falling into place after years of planning, paying my dues, poverty, and hard work. And then there is a part of me that wonders if this is real. But it is...

I just think for as crazy as everyone is making me, I have to remember to keep things in perspective, have an attitude of gratitude.

But also that I can't always win the trophy.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Top of the World (The Carpenters)

Sometimes it feels that it is you against the world, like Sysifus rolling the boulder up the hill. It never makes any sense how it happens. I think women have this feeling more than men, although men have it too. For women, it's that we take on too much while we are never enough. At least that is my experience. For me my career is everything. Maybe I place too much importance on something so material. When I wake up in the morning I am on.

This past week I was having a meltdown. I am a personality who has to be in control. Even when I don't want to be I find myself in charge somehow. Some of it is because I am "bright." Some of it is because I am hardworking. As an artist, I am more apt to create my own work anyway. I have been told when I "make it" my career will be on my own terms. This is true. So far it has been. I work very well independently. Some of it is being a middle child. Some of it is being a woman with half a brain in a jungle of sexist male nitwits. Some of it is being this same woman and having no support from my own and being forced to stand on my own. With this independence always comes a feeling of anxious apartness and terminal uniqueness, like I am the only one with my issues and will never fit in.

Tuesday was a rough day. I am currently working on a project with someone that has a personal life, something totally alien and foreign to me. I have my friends but no lover. Anyway, we got into one of the many text wars we had this week over the fact this person's decision to marry someone lovely is getting in the way of a mutual project goal we have. I was speaking to my mom about the crunch I felt. That is when my mom said something wonderful. She said, "Well isn't it nice not to have to work alone?" As we were speaking I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. My mom had a point. While my partner shortens my life span from time to time it could be worse. He makes up for the things I lack. In contrast to the fact I get so fired up I could blow a gasket, he is very live and let live. While he tells me to chill quite a bit which I hate with a passion, it is nice to know that I don't have to make important decisions by myself.

As I felt overworked to the max and panicked because these days I have an assistant and don't know what to do with it, there was a terminal uniqueness that came over me. Not to mention I felt like no rising star ever had my issues and no one ever felt overwhelmed in their creative endeavors. This week I ended up seeing a fellow I knew who was a composer who's musical opened in London. He knows exactly how I feel. He is a reference point in case I need support. We connected because he is open to talk as my friend if I need one. He gets it. Another man I knew in passing was walking back from the close of his Broadway show. He too knows how I feel. Both could identify with wanting to have full control all the time and no one else understanding them at points when it came to their art. Other friends who might not be creative identified with the feelings I had. I am not terminally unique after all. I don't have some growth on my head. Sometimes I just feel like it though.

Of course there was the mean girl issue I had. Sometimes that can make me feel so isolated especially because this individual is so tiring. Needless to say my friends were wonderful. Some of them had suggestions on how to block blocked numbers on my phone. Some of them had experience to share with someone similar. Some had feedback on how not to upset myself and to keep myself safe from an alcoholic, drug addicted stalker. Some even told me to shut the hell up about it.

The beautiful thing about friends and connections is that they remind you that it's not that serious. Even those you meet on the sidewalk. As I was stewing at the world as a whole this week I saw a little girl run by in a Wonder Woman outfit. Suddenly it took me out of the zone where I was tired, angered that people didn't act the way they should, and no one appreciated me. I gave the small girl a high five and we had a laugh. How can you be angry when you see a two year old Wonder Woman? Answer, you can't.

How can you be angry when you see a friend zip by on a City Bike as she is on her way to work? And how can you be angry when you see a picture of her little girl in some play on facebook as she is dancing with another friend. Answer: You can't.

How can you be angry when you see your friend on the way to work and you two shoot the breeze about life? How can you stay in your head where it is dark and lonely?Answer: You can't.

How can you be angry when you go to kickboxing, bust a few punches on a bag, and burst out laughing at the big clownish man in the class? Answer: You can't.

For as big and wide spread as the city is, I know at any given time I can walk down the street and see a friend or make a new one. With any bad day, I can press restart. I can laugh with people who can enjoy my Beyonce moments cause they supported me when I was Lindsay Lohan. Translated: I am not alone unless I have to be.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Over Tired

I am having the kind of day that is low key. I need to have this kind of day every once in a while in order to keep my sanity. Granted, the world doesn't give a rat's ass about my sanity but that's okay.

This week has been a long one. I don't know what is worse, when people don't do that they are supposed to do or are way more immersed into their personal lives. For as much as people dream they don't give a rat's ass about their careers. I must be the only person who cares about making this happen. Oops. Things aren't just handed to me. I have to make it happen. As I said, I have a sense of urgency most people don't. I don't have a boyfriend to coddle me.

I feel like sometimes I work hard and people just want to suck the life blood out of me. Yeah woman, you go do that while I go fuck all the bitches in the land. Or sorry April, I have to spend time with the worthless lump I call a boyfriend/husband. Could you pick up the slack for me? I won't say thank you. I won't do what I am supposed to. Instead I will hate on you, rip you up, and then you will have to listen to everyone else complain about me. Fuck you and your fucking relationships. When you have nothing because you have love, don't whine to me when your dreams aren't coming true. You chose to chase ass and now here you are getting fucked.

As for the haterade being tossed my way, the ugly Port Authority Drag Queen is starting to calm down. It's what she looks like. I hate her. People tell me to pray for her but I am not there yet. I also have a plan of action. If she crosses the line again I am going to the police. I hate having to get the law involved but it is what I have to do. I also am getting an app on my phone to block unwanted calls. It will make my life easier and I will no longer have to have a relationship that is functional with a stalker.

My life really isn't that bad. I am just overtired. I have a lot to look forward to. My new on camera hosting gig at ITTV is awesome and I love my cohosts. I am working a lot which means rent won't be a problem. My audiobook is getting ready to go on itunes. Projects are on the stove. Life is good. 

I just wish people had their priorities straight. 

Sigh, I think I need to go to the pool for a swim. 

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Friday, August 16, 2013

Shit Sisters Talk About

This morning my baby sister, Dr. Skipper, messages me. Lets just say this is another golden convo

Skipper: Hi April, I'm working nights and about to go to bed. Just know I am thinking of you, have a great day.

Me: Aww thank you.

Skipper: I know we are home on different weekends and I am sorry because I know you wanted to be home on the same weekend. We'll have to catch up by phone.

Me: I would like that.

Skipper: I am sending you this message while pooping. You are not allowed to use this text stream on your blog.

Me: LOL, I didn't need to know that but thank you. And your text are golden, it is going in the blog.

Skipper: I thought you would appreciate this moment of intimacy. Anyway, have been reading your blog. Seems like you are doing a lot of exciting things. So proud of you.

Me: I am proud of you too. So proud this is going in my blog.

Skipper: Oh my!!!!

Me: What can I say, your exchanges are golden.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Thursday, August 15, 2013

The Importance of Friends

I have been going through some things lately. Aside from a busy schedule that is the bi-product of my dreams coming true (although I find myself falling asleep easily at night), there has been something else that has been bothering me. What I am talking about is the jealousy factor in this industry. When you start to see a little success the claws come out from those around you. Some of it is on a smaller scale. Some of it is on a drastic scale.

Lately I have been dealing with a psychotic female admirer. She has been the pebble in my shoe for years. Her name is Ms. Wannabe. I hate having to talk about her much less write about her. This woman has been nothing but a negative attention seeking pest. Actually I prefer the term bitch. Truth be told, she is only sober for about an hour a day if that. Without completely taking her inventory, it is an act of God that I haven't beaten her head in for as much as she has tormented me. I know I shouldn't take her personally. She is an alcoholic and drug addict who's life only gets worse as her boyfriend enables her. But it's kinda hard not to get pissed when she calls and hangs up all the damn time blocking her number.

Anyway enough about the skank. 

I saw an old friend of mine yesterday from the comedy world. She hasn't been performing as much because she is going through a rough patch in her life. We talked about the mic world. My friend-who is quite funny-humbly stated that she hoped she would never become too grandiose for open mics. I joked that I have become too grandiose for mics. It is true, my ego is too big to pay five dollars a pop to follow my dream. Plus I have spent a small fortune paying for stage time. We talked about the downside of mics and how it was good to get stuff out but some mics had their own culture that was very anti-woman. However my friend pointed out that if one hated a mic, they had the option of finding another. It was not the end of the world.

I ended up pouring my heart out to my friend about how I felt shunned at mics once things started happening for me. And how it seemed suddenly I was the bad guy because so many of these people seemed allergic to achievement. My friend pointed out that when a person gets successful, it is not easy for everyone. I explained I had drifted away from mic land because I was busy doing other things like for a while I was producing web content. My buddy explained that again, my success would not be easy for some people. She said that there are people in this world who think things are handed to people. She explained while she knew I worked hard for my success, to some people it might seem it was just handed to me which is far from the truth. 

I told her about how I had to deal with sexism and hate from all angles back in the day. My friend explained that those people don't see that, and they only see their own shit. And that their jealousy was more about them than myself. That I couldn't expect everything to be happy for me. Oh and she joked that from 1989-2002 she too was a hater. And as an ex hater she could attest that you don't know what someone else goes through to get where they are.My buddy was right. My former friends didn't see the blood, sweat, tears, and hard work. 

Then I told my friend about the chick stalking me. About how my success is just too much for her. My friend pointed out that she has a drug problem and a boyfriend who enables her. She said, "You don't want her life, do you? Her life sounds terrible, April." I told her no. At that moment I felt sympathy for Ms. Wannabe. If anything she is a very sick woman who is crying for attention. As she openly brags about her drinking and drug use it is just a feeble cry for help from a troubled young woman. Then my friend pointed out, "There will always be haters, April."

I bid my friend goodbye and felt better. The night was spent with me sending emails about my book, interview questions to a writer friend of mine, and more emails about a pilot project I am a part of. Just then the phone rang. I got not one but three blocked calls from guess who? Ms. Wannabe, everyone's favorite professional victim. I ended up calling another friend of mine who is like a mom. Well she was with her young grandkids who were fighting and having a bad day. She snapped, "There is nothing I can do about it and I am sick of hearing about her." I stammered and my friend explained, "I am having a bad day too, April. Just ignore her. That is the best you can do!" And she slammed down the phone. 

Why didn't my friend validate my bullshit and insight me to bash the head in of my hater? Then I realized it's what I needed to hear. I had to stop giving this real life version of a puss filled pimple attention. Since she has decided to start harassing me again, I have been on her facebook page more than I would like to be to see if I was in mortal danger. I have been on her blog lately to see if I was in danger as well or to see if she would make threats. Most of it has been annoying, whining statuses and second rate musings of an overgrown, petulant child. Of course she bitches and moans about me in many. Apparently I am delusional and have an overblown ego. As I wanted to jump through the computer screen and strangle her I realized my friend was right. Because this young woman was renting space in my head and I was on her social media (which is pitiful), I was being sucked into her world and giving her more energy than she deserved. Thus as she was becoming obsessed with me I was becoming obsessed with her.So once again I blocked her tuning her out, not feeding in. 

The last thing I saw on her page was a disturbing video where it looked like she was nodding off. She was pale and looked possibly like she was shooting heroin or something. While she has been nothing but horrid to me, this makes me ill. Drug addiction, especially on women, is unforgiving. It is also a path that ultimately leads to death. I don't wish the yets she is about to encounter on anyone. The sad thing is, I understand more than anyone in the world what it is like to be alone in an abusive relationship and to feel so isolated. My first instinct is to reach out and help someone like that actually. Tell them the ex girlfriend is not worth going to jail over. I remember being that jealous and foaming at that mouth. Then I realize more than anything in the world this creature doesn't deserve my hate but my pity. She is sick, very sick. Hopefully she finds some sort of spirituality or else her mother may end up burying her. It's not over dramatic. It;s the reality of addiction.

Just then I got another blocked call on my phone. I remembered both my friends reminding me that there would always be hater and how I just had to ignore her. The phone rang and that was it. I also figured it was late anyway. I turned off my phone and turned in for the evening. Translated from middle school, she could talk to my hand cause the face don't give a damn. With that, I had a laugh about this woman who was obviously on a middle school level and had a good night.

Bottom line: A friend is someone who tells you how it is when you need to hear it. They also let you know that most of the time for as seriously as you take your shit, it ain't that serious.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Living in Pause

The other day I was having a business convo about a project that turned into an all out text war. It began with me telling my partner Hondo that I was going to see a place we were possibly filming in. The locale is exclusive and it is a ton of money we don't have to get in. So I decided to go in through a back door way. It's not that kind of back door sickos, relax. Anyway, initially it is not what my boy wanted because he didn't want his people to pay a cover charge, but the space has been on TV numerous times. After posturing the other day at the diner, he finally gave in to this place as my backup plan.

So yesterday I went to see it. I messaged him beforehand inviting him. He said he had to work. Okay, whatever. Then he mentioned he might be able to get out to join me. At our previous meeting he stated that sometimes he believed this whole thing was becoming The April Show. I figured okay, you have stuff going on. I was just taking the lead, Hondo. Well Hondo asked what time I was going to leave and I told him soon. Then Hondo had the nerve to ask me to hold off. I am like the White Rabbit, early for everything. I hate being late. This drove me crazy.

Then my contact at the place emailed me to move the meeting. I texted Hondo. Could he come? It was later. That is when Hondo stated he could not come later, and began to tell me what to ask for. I am one of those people who doesn't like being ordered around. Needless to say, we were both in that mind frame where we both wanted to be right and we both wanted to win. Suddenly April the Business Woman went out the window and the little girl inside of me was screaming, "You're not the boss of me!" That is when we began to go at it via text. I started by disagreeing peacefully but I wanted to win and so did he. Now I was going for blood. There is some mechanism in me that likes to fight, especially with men.

Maybe it was the fact my dad and I butted heads so much growing up. It's not that it was that we were so different. We were so much alike. We are strongly opinionated and love the history channel. It was the way we bonded. But when we went at it, neither one of us would back down. Sometimes it is better to be happy than to be right, but damnit we both want to be right.Of course, my dad's whole immediate family is this way. We all joke it is best never to discuss politics at a Brucker Family Gathering. I will say though, the discussions my dad and I have are lively because we are both so impassioned, and my aunts and uncles, although we differ, are well informed.

 I think while this dynamic works for my relationship with my dad, it doesn't work a well in the dating world. So perhaps this is why I gravitate towards hyper-masculine dudes with no brain, feelings, but tempers like hell fire. Don't worry though, I can handle myself. I used to say the same thing with the former fiance. Even when things got bad, I could handle myself. At least so I thought. But now I was butting heads again and had to win. That is when the emoticons came out and all hell broke loose.

Something tells me before this all began we were both a little stressed and perhaps woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I have been working like a Mexican, and have been so tired some days I wake up feeling like the room is spinning. Hondo is soon to get married so he is running around like an African from wedding appointment to wedding appointment. Usually, he doesn't mind when I slam dudes in my weekly blog but this week he felt the need to let me know my perception of men was "skewed." Did I mention my mother sent me the "Call me when you wake up" text. I love the woman but don't send me those unless there is a death in the family. I can't have a convo especially when I am McStressed and crazy. Nonetheless, it was only 11 when this began and I was already tired, angry, and wanting blood.

 I began to end my sentences with a smiley face. When I start making my points and ending them with a smiley face it is my way of saying "Fuck you mutherfucker." And then one smiley face became two, became three, became four. Eventually I guess the fight came to a draw because Hondo did the adult thing and stopped responding. Of course this is after I accused him of having an overblown male ego and not pulling his weight. Of course I was fired up. HOW THE HELL COULD HE STOP RESPONDING WHEN I WAS ON FIRE! I hadn't even started calling, cussing, swearing, or typing in all caps yet.

That is when something in me said, "Put down the phone, April." So I decided to stop texting, shouted a shitload of profanities, and went for a walk.

I did and went for a walk. As I was fuming walking down the street I saw a friend of mine who works in a car lot. He noticed I looked like I was going to deck someone. I ended up telling him what happened. We agreed shit happened. And he told me to take some time, cool down, and talk to my buddy again. I thought about it, Hondo is like a brother to me. If something would happen to him I would be supremely upset. Not to mention if it happened before we got to talk and make up then I would be really upset. From a business stand point, Hondo had also made some good points. He has been on the other side of this. So I would bring up his concerns when I came to see the space. Not to mention if Hondo is going to be a part of this I want him to be happy. Not only is he my friend and is this a team effort, but also he will work better.

I also spoke to some other friends, one being an accomplished composer, who said that letting go of the control over one's career can be hard. Not to mention especially when you both think you're right. I started to col down significantly. I would ask about what Hondo wanted when I went to see the space. The worst that could happen was we brought our business elsewhere. Walking to see it and meet with the people went from my mission as Career Minded Woman to now a rock in my stomach. I was dizzy from being so fired up and frankly drained. Now I no longer wanted to be right, I wanted some sleep.

I went to see the space and brought up Hondo's concerns and suggestions. To my pleasant surprise, we ended up having an open, honest, and business orientated dialogue about how this all could be possible. At the end of the conversation, we spoke about us renting the smaller room and therefore our people not paying a cover. And as far as rent goes, while we don't have a final amount it is much more workable. The bar would be open and drinks would be served to our guests. While it is not final yet, this is a compromise that all could be happy with. I texted Hondo and he seemed happy. I also left him a nice message.

I also realized that while a beautiful, famous space is nice, it's not everything. It's not the end of the world if we don't get it. Hell, there are other beautiful, nice, spaces in the city. So far we have a good team. Looking at it from a wider angle, I think Hondo has some excellent points. Sometimes though, for as much as I want to win all the time it is better for everyone to be happy. Sometimes you have to take that breath, put down the damn phone, and live in pause.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Sunday, August 11, 2013

A Bigger Plate

This week has been a busy one in the world of April. I can't even begin to tell you about all the things I have been dealing with. Lets start with I have been BUSY AS FREAKING FUCK. Okay, these are words my mother doesn't like me to use but I went and used them, HA! All week I have been juggling my new hosting gig, the still existing telegram job (Thank God, it pays my bills), filming details for one project and things for two others. Plus I am getting ready to finally delivery my audiobook. It is a blessing because my team is wonderful. Still, it was my phone ringing every five seconds. It's not like I got a moment's rest either.

Last Sunday the day begun when a friend of mine was off his psych meds for bipolar. So during the delusion he got my Booski ended up believing that two people we knew and then a random black dude broke into his home. Apparently he went down to the precinct and filed a report and everything. Did I mention this was before 7 AM. Oh and my mom called me at 5:45 by accident waking me up. So I figured the day had begun, why not? In any event, the way my buddy told the story was pretty funny. I guess I want to know why is it always a random black dude? Then again, my buddy is off his meds, not evil. Well the story ended with him going to the psych hospital, and then coming home so bummed he brought this big thing of food and in his depression ate it all. The best line was, "The only person who's not pissed with me right now is my dog."

I have long ago given up the belief I could have normal friends. It ain't gonna happen. Sigh McSigh. The rest of the day Sunday was spent getting ready to film et al. Monday had some girl drama that I will not get into. The only thing I will say is that the older I get, the more allergic to drama I am. I don't even hate the girlie I had the drama with, I think the unfortunate thing is that the poor child knows no better. But I did a full set with eight of my puppets in Brooklyn. Oh and I also delivered a telegram first thing in the morning. But the day ended with me McMakin and McMackin with a McStud. Oh and I also had to race and run write my column for Sex From Both Sides.

Tuesday saw me doing more stuff for my on camera hosting gig at ITTV. I love the gig and love being in front of the camera. Not to mention some stuff for the project I am filming.

Wednesday I filmed the interview and had a telegram. Plus I talked to the producer of the project I am currently working on.

Thursday I had a project meeting with my business partner and made an ass out of myself at the desired venue. But my new assistant Masimo, a gay kid from Dominica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic, although both are a butt load homophobic), was a God send helping me with business plans. By the time night came I was tired. I also couldn't enter a contest because of a date conflict but I really liked the lady and want to work with her in the future.

Friday of course was delivering the telegram and more stuff for ITTV events. I was so worn out that I isolated and spent the night in. I ordered sushi to be delivered to my home. Of course I ended up watching Deadly Women, because who can resist a show where men get killed.

Saturday I had lunch with a hot lunch date. I figured I deserved it. However before that I had about three business calls and then had to meet with someone else all before noon. But then of course I went to my business partner/friend's BBQ. He is more like a big brother to me than anything. I love him and his fiance. They are sooooo cute together. He gave me a stern lecture about my choice in men and chastised me for wagging my finger like he always does. I was chilling, having fun, and then my phone just kept ringing with people who wanted shit from me. As I had convo after convo with people on business I missed another friend thrusting a whole Twinkie in his mouth. I just wanted to take the phone and throw it off the damn balcony into the night.

Where would it land? The streets of New York City? On the car of some rich fuck? On the head of some idiot girl who just wanted the idiot husband? Or would it go to space and the fucking Martians would answer?Klatu, Nictu, Baratu, may I help you....

Of course this morning I was on my way to Jersey to deliver a telegram and had to go early as not to miss a train and my mom called me to give me notes on my ITTV interview. As she is giving me notes on my interview I stood up on the train to get off and banged my head leaving me a nice little bump. Of course I let out the following blue streak, "FUCK! JESUS FUCKING FUCK I HATE THESE FUCKING TRAINS, THESE MIDGET CEILINGS AND THE STATE OF NEW JERSEY!!!!!" And then I saw there were children sitting there. FUCK ME!!!!

Then I remembered I am busy because my dreams are coming true. Years ago I was crying because it looked like it would never happen for me. I was lugging myself from open mic to open mic, living on laundry money, and barking for stage time. I would see people with TV credits come in and out and only dreamed of being them but it seemed so far away. I remembered sitting in my unairconditioned apartment writing my book and my then roomie having a nervous breakdown and losing both the friend who inspired me to write again and another friend who inspired me to be myself to drugs. I remembered how much fun it had been to be onstage for the first time in NYC. How cool it was to be on National TV for the first time. How I got my first on the street recognition without even expecting it. How cool it felt to record down the hall from Deborah Harry and see her yappy dogs.

Newsflash, when things start to happen in your life and career, things become hectic. Life becomes full. I used to cry because it seemed nothing would ever materialize. I was so scared of being left in the dust. Now here I am dusting myself off. So the chaos I have is the good kind.

Next week I have my musical stuff to work on, more ITTV stuff, I have to start uploading my audiobook to sell, and then I probably have another writing assignment in there. They say when God/Allah/Universe gives you more than you can handle, you have to ask Him/Her/It for a bigger plate. So here I am, asking for a bigger plate.

A few years ago when I came out of a particularly rough time in my life I got this thing that is still framed in my apartment. It is a little ethnically ambiguous cherub with the words, "When the trials of life seem to be working your nerves and you don't know what to do. Or when it seems you're having so many problems, you've bitt'n off more than you can chew. There's one thing you must tell yourself, when these situations you cannot dodge, I must sit down, calm myself, relax, My God's in charge."

So in times when it feels like I just run around and my feet are falling off, I must remember I am chasing my dreams. From that I must never tire. I must stand up straight for I am an accomplished woman, and when you stand upright the burdens roll off your back. I must tell myself I am too blessed to be stressed, because my dreams are coming true and this is everything I worked for since I was a little girl coming to fruition. Not to mention one hundred want to stab me in the back because of the success I am getting, and thousands want to take my place.

That means I have to stop answering the phone by saying, "What!" when my mother calls. Translated, I have to drop the attitude and be more grateful.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Boys (Sabrina)

I don't know what it is, but this past week has been busy with the Dudeski's. After a summer that was dry in that department, I am making up for lost time. Last Saturday I was just chillin with some friendski's when I saw a guy who is from time to time my angel in the neighborhood. Anyway, we ended up chilling and he kissed me. I was like WOWSA! LONG TIME SINCE A DUDESKI KISSED ME!!!!

It was like the rainbow bank had broken open and all these stars were coming out. Okay, not that dramatic but it had been a while. So Sunday we ended up hanging again and McMakin out in the park like teenagers. I haven't heard from him since. Just as well. I am a busy woman anyway. He was cute though.Oh and he thought it was neat I did ventriloquism.

The sense of loss was not long because Monday I did a show at Lucky 13. This dude who was half Dominican and half red neck was checking me out. I have seen Dominican spliced with lots of things but never red neck. His dad is from DR and his mom is from Alabama. I promised myself no more Latinos because it always ends in disaster. Clearly he and Mother Nature didn't get the memo. After my set this puppet groupie kissed me.

And then we went outside where we McMadeout!!!! Yes, two in one week. God I feel like a Slutina. Anyway, he has never been to jail, has never had a drug habit, and has no children. Must be the white boy in him. But that white boy is a red neck and he might be his own grandpa and he may have been abducted by aliens. I am not patting myself on the back just yet. Well he called me the next day and apparently he sells real estate. Hmmm.....We have been texting back and fourth. He is on the cute, shy, awkward side. I like.

Of course his friend was buying me sodas all night and stuff. And he too wants to get together for drinks. His friend is quieter than he is, but I like him too. I didn't make out with his friend though.

Yes guys cheat and lie all the time but they make me McGiggle.

Or in the words of Sabrina and her song and that so gay announcer with the deep voice, "BOYS!"

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Friday, August 9, 2013

Big Head Sydrome

In comedy, sometimes success can go to a person's head a little. Actually that is in show business in general. You work your ass off and presto, it happens. And then suddenly you are on top of the world. People write you fan letters and voila! That is when you are on the list at places and you get fans. Oh and people write on your facebook wall, "Saw you on TV!"

I remember when it started happening to me it was cool. However there were a lot of other things happening. One was getting fired as the open mic host of a club I put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into. Oh and this was right after I got this club some meaty national television time. After that is was the painful lesson of learning some people are only your friends when you are down, and those people will shit talk you the second you find success because you left them in their loser dust. I remember being treated like dog shit in my own community because of my "fame seeking." On top of that it was years of male club owners speaking to me how ever they wanted to, usually putting me down for being a woman. Then there were the male comedians who were higher on the food chain either trying to seduce me or outright groping me. After them came the male producers who would hide me because I eclipsed the talent of their male headliner friend, and didn't want to upset him. Or the male producers who wanted to fuck with me just because I was more talented than them and they knew I was destined to pass them up. The women were no help. Hell, they were even worse. Whenever they could they trashed me and put me down. Suddenly, it was on a larger scale than I ever imagined.

To cope with it, I developed sort of a fuck all attitude. It kept the fact that there was so much jealousy around me seemingly hurt less. Granted, it ate me up inside but I had to keep going. What was I supposed to do? Suddenly become allergic to achievement because those around me where? I started dressing crazy, acting crazy, and regularly declared myself the greatest ever. Not to mention I was finally able to tell the majority of the men and women who fucked with me that they could get fucked.

The big head felt good. I told one booker who was being snarky with me to get fucked. I told another who wanted to give me the run around it was obvious that he didnt own a television. And then there was the idiot working the door giving me a hard time so I asked him, "Excuse me, do you know who I am?" Needless to say, the attitude turned heads. In some instances cracking the whip with people got me what I wanted. And in others, not so much...

Other doors opened and my ego did grow. My song "Stay" was number one on internet radio. I published my book. It made it into an Ivy League Collection and NYU. Mensa said good things. Britney gave it a plug. I was on TV some more. But the truth was, I felt lonely as hell. My big head had grown to the point where I felt that facebook was my personal soapbox. I fought with friends and fans and was alienating followers and anyone else who help me. So really it was the Tarot Chariot in reverse, my arrogance was setting me back.

Around this time, I remember being at an open mic just to work stuff out. My book had just been published. I detested having to pay for stage time. A female comedian asked where she could follow me and I explained my personal page was maxed out and told her to join my fan page. Then someone snapped, "The more friends you have on facebook the less you have in real life." I remember walking home angered. What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was a lose/lose situation. Granted, I felt I was slumming it at mics but I needed the time. So rather than just find where I was welcome I went on a facebook rant. Of course I reminded people who got in my way for the next several weeks who I (thought) I was.

A week later I ended up doing time in Queens. It was at a coffee house where no one knew me. I slinked in and told myself I wasn't talking to anyone. I remember going up and doing well with a new puppet. When I got offstage I remember this dude I never met came up to me. He told me he liked my stuff and had a different ending for a joke I wrote. I remember being humbled at that moment. That joke hadn't worked. Then it hit me. This is why I got into comedy in the first place. Yes, it was to be on TV and to get famous. But also just to make people laugh. I remembered how much fun it had been to chill in the diner after sets and exchange punchlines with people. How exciting it had been to get onstage. How my goal was just to be a good comedian and how I stood in awe of people with television credits. How I remembered who was nice and who was an asshole. How I was suddenly turning into that demanding asshole. How I didn't want to be that person either.

Not to mention my former friends were wrong for being jealous and treating me like trash. However, that was about them. It had nothing to do with me. My role was letting their jealousy and envy make me a paranoid, self-centered, asshole that no one wanted to be around. When I realized that, I was able to feel less bitter about the loss of their friendship and made friends who were proud of me, on my level, but would also be honest with me.

While it took a while for the cinderblock to go, it was slowly being chipped away. These days whenever I do a spot while I might have been seen on television, I am still another performer on the show. Sure, I might be on the shelf next to a woman who got a movie deal in NYU's Bookstore and a MacArthur Fellow at Brown, but it is an honor to share shelf space with them. Instead of cursing them in my head for wrongs they never did, I tell myself these are things I could do.

These days I look at my career as a job more or less, that is all it is. Outside of the Superfoxxx Persona and puppet mother I am a friend, daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, etc. After a shoot at my new hosting gig I am still home. I still have bills. I still have to make my damn bed. Bottom line, they call it show business because it is all a show. When you get swept into that world too deep, nothing and no one is real. And one day you are on top and next it is someone else. Not to mention no matter how famous you are, there is someone in Branson, Missouri who could give a rats ass about ya.

Nowadays the big head comes out when I am tired. That is when I turn into overworked woman against the world. Yesterday I had a meeting for a pilot and was giving my co-host/co-producer orders. Apparently, I was wagging my finger. He looked at me and said, "Don't wag your finger at me. I am not submissive here." I proceeded to bark orders at him again and he responded, "I don't even think you know you do it." Translated, I was being rightfully bitch smacked. It was a kind reminder that no matter how tired I get or important I think I am, I have to remember I can't talk to people however I want to, especially when they are in my corner.

Today I woke up and my body hurt. Of course I snapped at my mother which rarely happens. Translated, I need a night in.

These days I write for the Huffington Post, am about to (finally) drop my audiobook, have a cool on camera gig, and things are only getting better. Not to mention I have some other stuff going on. I am losing my mind, but it is job related stress. Everyone feels it, from the street sweeper on up. I am by no means terminally unique. I am getting success because I am working for it and earned it, but what is given can be taken. So I must always walk humbly. Cause we all know a big head cannot fit through any door without being popped.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Stranger Things

Today is my parents 38th wedding anniversary. My folks found love in the weirdest way. It was my Aunt Darlene's wedding. She and my Uncle Rob had been high school sweethearts and had been an item since they were kids. Long story short, my grandfather had died when my dad was nineteen so he was kind of the man of the house. The second of seven, oldest boy, his job was to give my aunt away. So they were all at the church for the big day.

When my grandfather died-my dad's dad-my grandmother was left with four kids still at home for the most part. My Aunt Margaret (RIP) was married. Aunt Darlene was getting married. While my dad still lived at home he was gainfully employed now that he was finished with college. But my grandmother still had four mouths to feed. Anyway, my Mema had some money from my grandfather's pension from the mill, but not enough. So my Nunni (RIP), my mom's mom, stepped in. Basically, what happened was my Nunni-a one time nurse-was able to help my Mema get a job as an LPN. Thus she got invited to her daughter's wedding as a thank you.

Well mom really didnt want to go. She had kinda sorta been dating my dad's cousin and blew the dude off. Apparently he was trying to be a pilot and according to my mother was "unstable." Anyway, my dad told his heartbroken cousin, "Forget that broad." Allegedly my dad had said hello to my mother while flying a kite on Flagstaff Hill at University of Pittsburgh but my mom blew him off. My mom alleges that my dad was tending bar at her cousin's party and was with some crazy red head and totally gave her the diss.My mom had no clue my dad was going to be there. She was just a young teacher, overworked, and wanted to be left alone. But my Nunni told her that she needed to go where the single guys were and that was a wedding.

Then the drama began. The bartender had a heart attack. So my Nunni and Mom stepped in to help serve drinks. One thing about my Nunni was that for as crazy as she could be, she was big into the spiritual part of Catholicism. On a good note, that meant helping out when things were crazy. On a not so good note, that meant rescuing riff raff she met at McDonald's and bringing them to family functions when they were either just out of jail or living at some half way house. Needless to say my dad was thankful.

This is how the exchange went from there.

Fire hall. Open scene.

Dad: Mrs. Wallisch, thank you so much. Let me know if there is anything I can do to repay you for helping make my sister's day special.

Nunni: Yes. Go over there and dance with my single daughter.

Nunni walks over to my mom

Nunni: See that young man right there. You are going to dance with him.

Mom: But Mom-

Nunni: Hush up. He is King of the Paper Boys. Now look distracted and bored.

(Note: My dad had gotten his MBA and was working for Price Water House. His MBA days were long over).

My Dad walks over

Dad: Want to dance

My mom doing a bad bored and distracted

Mom: Sure

Needless to say the rest is history. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Seriously Dudeskis

Okay, I don’t get the male gender sometimes. Granted, my own people are catty and take pot shots at each other, but dudeskis are just plain obsessed with sex sometimes. What I don’t get is when a guy will tell me how good he is in bed. I mean, why you be telling me how good you are in bed. Telling me how good you are in bed is like telling me that there is a Santa Claus. The more you tell me the less I believe.
The other night I was talking to a dudeski. I actually kind of like this one. Anyway, the dudeski and I were walking home and we were really hitting it off. To make a long story short he is going through some shitz right now so I am not pushing this. Anyway, he told me that when he services a girl he likes to do most of the work and is big on foreplay. Hmmmski. Most guys talk a good game.
Talk being the key word.
Then one guy told me how big his penis was. Then one dudeski told me he was superior at oral.
The only reply I have to these dudeskis is in your mind you might be superior, but if you have to tell me about this, you are mentally and physically inferior.
Machismo shot down. Game over McChicos!


Friday, August 2, 2013

Strange Mood

I have been going back and fourth in this bizarre twilight zone in the world of standup comedy for a while. A few years ago I was doing a lot. I was on the road every damn weekend. It was crazy. Then there was some shit that went down that wasn’t so Kosher. Either way, I found myself alienated. I would have been a hero if I were a guy. As a woman I found myself on the wrong end of an art form that is on it’s last leg. No biggie.
There was a lot of me that liked making people laugh and still does. But other doors opened and I did other shit. I really actually didn’t miss standup like I thought I would. Actually it was a relief to be doing other shit. I realized the idea of a community was utter bullshit. As a woman it is a waste of time actually. It seems male comedians have their careers handed to them with little or no work at all.

Lately there is a part of me that misses it. I miss getting onstage and making people laugh. I just don’t miss the politics and the sexism that goes with it. I don’t miss male headliners treating me like a fresh piece of meat. I don’t miss the competition amongst female comedians at all to be the sole female comedian. I don’t miss seeing women on the lineup who are obviously blowing a more established comedian. I don’t miss the gossip and name calling about women who are determined to make it. Plus there is no money in it.
But I do like making people laugh. Granted, these days I do it with my books and youtube videos. However I do miss it. I also miss some of my comic friends.

But the thing is, I have paid certain dues. There is no way in fucking hell I am doing any more open mics. When people invite me on facebook or even via text I want to inform them been there done that. I have hosted a few myself. At one point, I hosted one very successful mic for one club that shall remain nameless. I have also paid a small fortune for stage time. Fuck no, never again. Fuck that proverbial shit with a big, black dildo. Open mics at this point in my development are not only soul crushing but a waste of my budget and artistic time. Most of these idiots taking the stage have no business being behind a mic. A lot of it is inside jokes between cliques who only laugh at each other's jokes anyway. You never get honest feedback. Open mics are good if you are merely starting out and need a place to get up, get comfy, and get your act together. After a certain point-at least for me-having been on national television X amount of times, having published a book, and having blogged for the Huffington Post this is just plain asinine. If anything you should either let me perform for free or pay me to show up. Not to mention I have in fact featured and headlined. So don't waste my fucking time. Been there done that. To those doing it, good for you. Kudos on the stage time and keep on keepin on. But again, paid that due.

While we are on that note it is fucking comical in itself when people drop me a line to flier. Actually they haven't in some time. Paid that due as well. Got more chest colds that way than anything else. Wish I could say it paid off in some way. It was a waste of time that one. Most of the time you don't get strangers off the street and they are pissed they are being bothered. I did it like a good girl and I didn't complain. I took more shit from more male producers about how I wasn't "efficient enough," when meanwhile members of their boys club fucked around and smoked cigarettes on the sidewalk. Then again, my fans recognize me on the street and these moron members of the boys club are no where to be found. As the woman I am always expected to carry more weight anyway. It all works out. 

As for bringers, did those too. I brought my share of people. I have run out of friends. I know the tricks. There are no industry there. Paid my dues there as well. Not that it fucking matters to people looking to make a second income in the club scene. Some go on to become club owners. Some producers. Most blood suckers. Dealt with them. For the love of God please don’t text me to be on your fucking bringer. Otherwise I will ask you if you own a television or go to bookstores. I will be a bitch about it.
I am also done producing shows. Did that too. Again, paid that due. Am not paying it again and again in my blood thank you very much. 

Fuck it. I did it all. These days I am particular about where I perform. Yes it means I perform much less. I only perform if I like the venue. That being said, that means only a top notch place or an A list club. I am done with club owners who have second rate digs and I am done with being forced to pay dues I have when I am more famous than the entire lineup. I also perform on fan shows as well. I do these as favors cause I love my fans. I love it when they ask me to perform and show up willingly. I also have no problem performing on really alt shows. Love those. I also do a shitload of shows for druggies. Love a recovering druggie audience. I also appear if you pay me. I know, makes me sound like a whore but eh. That being said, I don't show up just anywhere. 

Do I have a chip on my shoulder? Yes. I have worked hard and have eaten shit because I am a woman with a niche act. I have worked my entire young adult life while many of my friends have wantonly become slaves to male captors and have become their breeders. Maybe I should just throw in the fucking towel and get a job marketing where I can pretend to care about someone's kids and have candy on my desk. But then I think, nah. Made too much headway. Am making too much progress to let them all win. Don't let them. Don't tread on me. I probably could get a cush dayjob but a lot of places wouldnt hire someone like me because they would be terrified I would make off when my career took off. And it's true, I would. 

As for my living situation, have no fucking idea what is next for me there.  I love New York but I pay too Goddamn much in rent. Thought about moving to Queens, Brooklyn, or Bronx but I am used to everything being so close. Plus add travel time and all, you are better ending up in Manhattan. I thought about getting another roommate but you always end up getting a crazy or worse yet, you always end up making up for the fact they are too unstable to pay rent. You are better off breaking your ass and working a little more.

I have no desire to move back to Pittsburgh. While I love my home city, there is nothing there for me. I don't know what I would do if I moved back home. Maybe I could marry a man and pop out some kids. Then I could watch soaps all day and be a housewife. Maybe I could teach elementary school or something. But I hated school when I was there. I would probably drink again. 

Then of course there is the thought I could move to LA. I would have to learn how to drive. That’s the downside. But in a lot of ways I feel like I have exhausted New York. I have done the clubs, performed of Broadway, and everything else in between. LA might be the next logical step. But maybe I am too old. Maybe I should have done that shit when I was younger and could have gotten breast implants. I don't know.

I have also toyed with moving to Europe. I have thought about London but then there is the issue of the work Visa. However, I have heard I would have tremendous luck in the Euro market. Still that is a lot of red tape.

I have no agent or manager. Despite being more famous than their entire roster, a ventriloquist makes them all gun shy.

Who the fuck knows what is next? Maybe I will win the lottery. Maybe the world will blow up. Or at the very least maybe this strange mood will pass.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Thursday, August 1, 2013

What Sister's Talk About

My sister Skipper is an emergency room doctor in Nashville, TN. Currently she is a resident at Vanderbilt. As a young doctor she works a lot of nights. I suppose Skipper was coming home from work, still up, and needed someone to talk to. We had the following text conversation today. I got the following text at 1:27 AM and it went downhill from there.

Skipper: Hi!!!! Thinking of you!! Also, I am worried about the mole on your upper left chest. The one that is normally covered by your bra. How many millimeters in diameter is it? How long has it been there? Has it changed over time. Love you :)

Me: Are you on crack? Love you too.

Skipper: Ha ha no. Just my normal pills. jkjk.Was reading about bad freckles and moles and thought, holy shit, I hope April is okay.

Me: Yes, I am fine. How are you?

Skipper: Having a wonderful time. I saw a patient have a real gonnorhea cervix last night. There was like a coffee cup of smelly goo.

Me: That is nasty. That should be on a poster for safe sex. Condoms always.

Skipper: Ha ha. She had herpes too.

Me: Holy shit! Hope she wasn't a hooker. That would be what is known as a bad trick.

Skipper:Ha ha, love you too.

Yes, familia......That is all I will say.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl