Monday, March 31, 2014

Junior High Is Over

Yesterday I found myself involved in some drama. I won't get into details. The whole thing was bizarre, unnneeded and completely started by the other party involved. I have a feeling there is more to it than what was on the surface. Actually, there is. I have a theory behind what happened yesterday, and it involves another problem child but I don't even feel like mentioning her name or likeness further. Truthfully, this young woman is a shit starter and shit stirrer to the n-th degree.

My buddy called me yesterday because he felt he had played a role in starting it because he felt something he said triggered the Moron Squad. I told him he didn't. He read me the thread where the blocked party bitched about the fact I blocked them. Yeah, I blocked them. This moron and their posse would have fought with me online all night. Plus I had people who wanted to follow me that would have been less trouble. Oh, and I just didn't want to deal with her. I don't see her and have never met her in real life. So yeah, after feeling like an ass clown wasting an hour of my time on this shit, time I could have used for other things, I blocked her.

Apparently she was pissed I blocked her and started several threads talking about me. For someone who insisted that I didn't matter, they dedicated almost four threads to me with almost thirty comments and even plugged by DVD taping. My buddy offered to keep me posted because it was funny. Finally I told him I didn't want to know anymore. He asked if I was sure. I replied again, "I don't want to know anymore."

There was nothing to be gained. She has not posted a recent photo of herself. The last pictures she puts up are from her high school glamour shot days. I have three pages, one which is almost always maxed out. She has one. Nothing is gained from fighting with her. As a matter of fact, I feel stupider for having participated as long as I did. These people have not gotten the success I have, and am going no where near where I am going. Instead, they will always be where they are. So what is gained by this? NOTHING! So yeah, be pissed I blocked you. At least someone was the adult here, even if it wasn't her old ass.

Yes, I am an adult. We live in a generation where people can be mentally handicapped in a whole new way with the internet. It gives a lot of people balls and buns of steel. In person, they can't look you in the eye afterwards. It makes them unaccountable for their actions. "It was on the computer. It was an internet fight. You should take it better."

No, read what you typed. You are an idiot who showed me you are not only petty but have an IQ of a turnip. We are done here now and forever. No, I will not appear on your podcast or radio show now that you told everyone I sucked dick for that spot there. So continue to get behind the keyboard, and engage in your retarded feats of strength like Lenny in Mice of Men.

During this drama filled wasted hour of my life, I had a stranger who was a moron and wanted to latch on to the fight remind me of a time in my life I would rather forget. Apparently another shit stirrer messaged him to inform him of all the mistakes I made in my past. So now this particular loser is not only wasting his time, but now got involved in a fight that wasn't his. As a bonus, he has now made a whole new enemy. For that, he gets to be line leader on the short bus.

Truth is, he would have to strain his neck to look at where I am like the rest of them. I felt like informing him that the closest he will ever get to my success is watching me on TV. But he isn't worth it. His life already sucks. He's a road hack. God already hates him.

Yeah, the fact I am doing well is too much for some people. There are those who don't feel I deserve it because of the way I have supposedly gotten my breaks. There are others who feel I don't have the talent and am simply a so called cute girl. And there are those who won't let me live a rough part of my life down. Yes, the assweeds with no dimension whatsoever. Once again, better than them then and still am. But that's about them and not me. Still I must ask, how old are we again?

The whole experience left me worn out and tired. I am not a fan of drama unless it is on TV. I am not a fan of people who create it in real life. They make me run like I saw Godzilla. Most of the time they are nobody's who are no where. It's because this consumes their time and therefore they can't do anything else. Plus why work on your own shit when you can go stir someone else's? Or why be successful when you can needle someone who is on their way to that place? Why hang with the winners when you can be a loser talking about everyone else? Why see your role in anything? Oh that means being an adult. NEVERMIND.

I remember a woman named Sandra Bowie gave me this piece of advice. She taught and worked in the Drama Department at NYU and had once been head of the Theatre Program at Howard University at one time. When I was a nineteen year old basketcase she gave me this advice, "If you expend all your energy in life, when you get to the stage you will be very, very tired." And this is why these people are no where, they are tired. They are too tired to focus and too tired to perform because their time and energy is wasted starting meshuggah.

It reminds me of junior high, when the intrigue was in the hallway in between classes. When everything took place with note passing and nasty rumors. Oh, and let's not forget the nasty things written about others on the bathroom walls and gym lockers. This was all done faceless and anonymous, and that way cowardice could reign. Why take responsibility for one's actions? My baby cousins are at that point in their lives now. However, they are starting to grow out of it. They are 12 and 13, and are learning to own up to their part in things. These adults, not so much. Never got that memo.

 I know I am running my own race, and what is mine will be mine. Additionally, I know not to start things with people and to mind my own business. When I go to a club, I go to make others laugh. Not to gossip by the bar about who slept with who for what spot. When I write for the Huffington Post, I write my column. However, I don't argue with some people just want to hear themselves speak when they comment. When I book a TV show or play, I know my lines ahead of time, take direction, and hit my marks best I can. I know there is money at stake and I am there to work. As I approach my DVD taping, I am plugging the event every chance I get and polishing my act to give my best show. Will it be my best DVD? Not sure but it will be my first and I am willing to learn, cry, and grow.

Unfortunately, some people aren't. I could feel anger but don't. Instead, I feel a sense of overwhelming sadness and pity. In the words of my friend Chacho Vasquez, "The thing about the past is when you pass people over. When you look back, they are right where you left them doing the same shit and wearing the same bad clothes."

I have known these idiots for years. They are still doing the same crap and bad jokes they were then. It's because they don't know class is dismissed and junior high is over. They are afraid to grow.

 Life outside of junior high is peaceful, lower drama, and fun. I hope someday they get to experience it.


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

Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street

Sunday, March 30, 2014

A Blog About (Hot) Dudeskis

It is kinda starting to get warmer outside. So that means I am doing some guy watching. There are these guys who play basketball in the court across the street from me. They are all ages. Sometimes they are teenagers but look kind of old. Other times they obvious grown men. And sometimes it's an all ages game.

The hot boys are coming out and they are on the court. I mean, these boys is fine yo. The other day, it was the first warm day in like forever. So these guys wanting to strut their machoness and manhood were playing shirtless. They were yum like Betty Crocker. The youngest was like nineteen and the oldest was I don't know how old. But they all looked fantastic. The entire time I watched by the side of the court like a weird stalker. What can I say, it had been a long winter and they were making me sweat along with them.

However, when I say the entire time I meant five minutes. I felt creepy and pathetic, like I was throwing my feminist ideals out the window. I thought if I made eye contact one would wave. But I didn't. Instead, the angry feminist returned and she yelled at me in my head. There was a world to conquer and these men had a basketball game to win. They can win their game, and I can conquer the world and make them my concubines.


Anyway, my Mema Ralph aka my dad's mom always said that I needed a nice Catholic boy.She said not just to ask God for a husband, but for the right one. So there was this hottie in church the other Sunday. He was coming in as I was coming out. I was in my cute little dress and tried to flash him a smile. No such luck. I tried again. Then I saw he was with his grandmother and what looked to be a brother. He was so not into me. God had not answered my prayers on that Johnny Angel.

Then this Sunday I went back to see if I could snag me the same hottie but he did not materialize. Instead another one who gave me the diss. One that I was not into was totally into me. Then I heard God say, "My house is not a pick up joint."

And I said, "God, you are no fun."

So  I left church, ran down the stairs, and fell on my ass.

God had the last laugh.


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

Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Thanks, Mr. President

Dear Mr. Obama,

My name is April Brucker. I am a performer and writer living in NYC. For some time my health insurance situation has been quite insecure and causing me some anxiety. Throughout my childhood and early adult years, I have been blessed to be on my parent's policy. However, when I reached a certain age they had to drop me. This left me afraid that if something were to happen to me, I wouldn't be protected.

My mother was worried about my insurance situation and so was I. She pointed out that if something happened to me, my parents would have to dig into their 401K in order to help me. Whether it was a car accident or cancer treatment, this would leave them destitute. I didn't want this, especially since my parents had worked their entire lives and deserved a solid retirement. I needed healthcare and didn't know what to do.

The deadline was looming, and I had tried the website before when it crashed. I was divided on whether I thought Universal Healthcare was a good idea. This was because of the negative feedback I heard, but also because the website kept crashing. However, when the kinks were worked out I went back on. Not only was I able to enroll, but it was relatively painless. Yes, it took me two hours. It was no fault of yours or the websites but rather I wanted to be thorough in my answering of the questions and wanted to pick a plan that was best for me. I knew that this was an important assignment, and one that could be life or death if I made the wrong decision. However, the choices were available to me in a way they never were. This was not only calming my fears but rather a gift from the highest office in the land.

The plan I picked covers emergency room visits, doctor's visits, second opinions, chemo, lab work, prescriptions, gyno issues, and oral surgery if I would need it. While I do not have eye and dental at the moment, I can upgrade once my financial situation changes. (Knock on wood).

Because of your hard work and belief in the people, I now have health care. I feel safe, protected, secure and care for. If I get sick I will not be abandoned. My parents will not have to dip into their retirement if something should happen to me. I will not be denied care for fear of nonpayment. Universal Healthcare has not only made me more insured than I have ever been, but lets me continue to follow my dreams knowing I am insured.

Because of you, and the fact you continued to fight even when people struck you down, my mother can sleep better at night. She can know that I have access to quality care and that the president she voted for twice made that happen. I am giving her a copy of my healthcare cards in case something should happen to me. It was her idea not mine. Once a mom always a mom. However, she is relieved and told me to find a network of doctors in my plan in case anything should happen to me. Before this was just a dream, now it is a reality.

I have voted for you not once but twice. I met some of your campaign people when I appeared on Good Day NY. Right away I was struck by now nice they were. No one knew much about you then. They said you lacked the experience some of the other candidates had. However, you had more vision than any of them. As a result, gay people are becoming citizens with full fights in a country they pay taxes and work in. Stop and frisk policies towards minority young men are being struck down. Women's reproductive rights are being protected.

And most importantly, you are making sure that everyone, rich, middle class and poor, have health care.

Despite your critics, American history will be kind to you. I am a proud Democrat, and can say the man I voted for truly does care about the people he governs.

Thanks Mr. President!

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

Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street

Friday, March 28, 2014

19 Things I Would Tell My 19 Year Old Self

I always wondered what life would be like if I traveled back in time and met my younger self. Granted, I was a big old basketcase. It might be a disaster, but it might be kinda fun. Would she listen? Probably not. No, definitely not. Oh, and I might end up strangling her.

1.       . You are already crazy. Six cups of coffee only makes it worse.

2.        Your first year of college is supposed to be hard. No one likes freshmen year. Stop acting so terminally unique.

3.       You can’t concentrate wherever you go because you are thinking too hard and it makes you crazy. Relax your brain.

4.       Obsessing over a guy won’t make him love you. Men all do the same tricks, have the same equipment, and have a chip on their shoulder about their childhoods. Trust me, he ain’t all that.

5.       The fake eyelashes plus hair pieces don’t make you pretty, they make you look like you should be swinging from a pole.

6.       Stop with the makeup. Some baby seal died so you could commit fashion homicide.

7.       Nineteen year old guys are idiots just like you are. Don’t expect anything special from them.

8.       Don’t follow a man home in the rain. He won’t appreciate it let alone care. And after you get soaked cause you didn't bring an umbrella, you will feel like a fool. 

9.       Stick with the puppets. You will get where you want to go. However, it won’t be as fast as you want. But it will happen when you are ready.

1             You are wise to study your craft and technique. You must know the rules before you can break them.
1.   That class you hate, what is it, Writing the Essay, it will come in handy. It will be how you write your first book.

1.         The answer is not to contemplate dropping out of school. The answer is to study.

1.        First year is stressful, but binge drinking at a party and making an ass out of yourself is not the answer. It will give you more stress and more problems.

1.   Do not smoke or run six miles to control your anxiety. Smoking is bad and while running is great, you can’t do it all the time. Talk to a friend. It helps you deal with it and lets you know you aren’t alone.

1          Food is not a way to solve your problems. Calmly breathing, taking care of what’s in front of you, and then getting a good night’s sleep is.

            Don’t think you ever have a handle on someone until you talk to them.

1         Being yourself will be your greatest gift and asset. Although it might not feel like it, it is. Just roll with Team April a bit longer.

1.           Never drunk dial a man you just met and tell him you love him. He will run forever.

1.           Stop crushing on your RA, he’s gay. Make sure your blinds are closed when you dress. And you will be laughing about all of this someday.

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

         Come see my show April 22nd at 7pm
         Metropolitan Room, NYC
         34 W. 22nd st. 

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Bittersweet Symphony (The Verve)

Today I had a run in with an old friend whom I will call Mike. I hadn't seen him in some time. Years ago, my life took a turn for the worse and Mike was one of my friends during that rough period. The son of a well respected judge, Mike had fallen into drugs real bad. His DOC was crack cocaine. Yes, he hit the pipe like Mike Tyson hits an opponent or spouse. He worked as a lawyer sometimes, and would blow all his money at the nearest strip club. However, Mikey always made me laugh and was a good friend.

Mike made several attempts to kick drugs, some more successful than others. Sometimes he was drug free for long periods of time and would practice law. Other times he would relapse and again, be walled up with a bunch of hos. In order to ensure he didn't blow thousands of dollars in a night, Mike's parents managed his money. Drugged up or sober, Mike was kind of nuts. While he had a long time girlfriend who had once been employed at Show World back in the day, Mike lamented that he missed her hooker days. His words, "Now she wants to talk about her feelings after sex. I miss the days when we could just have threesomes."

Today I saw Mike at the Dollar Store. It is a venue run by a Korean Family. Nice people, they are always efficient. Mike was on the phone when I got in. He looked like he lost a bunch of weight and his life was a mess. He waved at me and I asked how he was. Mike told the person on the other end of the phone that he would call them back. Then he told me he wasn't doing so good. Mike smelled like he had just taken a bath in Jack Daniels. I knew this meant one thing.

"How are you doing?" I asked taking another wiff of him.

"Not so good." Mike replied. He began to kind of fidget while hiding that he couldn't control his nerves at the same time.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked, leaning closer and whispering as not to let the strangers hear us. Mostly they were women who spoke Spanish as a first language. Still, if my friend was in fact drunk and high he was going to be unpredictable.

"More than that." Mike said with a half snicker. My suspicions were correct. He had been smoking crack. I remember being in situations where it was being smoked around me a handfull of times. Pot smells sweet and pungent. This just smells like pure horror, hell, and death. It's the devil's drug.

"Okay. Are you safe?" I asked. Now I was concerned. The last time we had spoken his girlfriend had been sick of him.

"Yeah." He said. "Can I call you?" I wanted to tell him no. No, he couldn't call me. I didn't want his drugged out crackhead drama near me. But he was a friend. Maybe he needed to talk. Finally, I lied. I was busy. He could text me.

Mike went to leave the store. The Korean man behind the counter said, "Sir, your card was declined."

"What! My card was not declined!" Mike said turning back and yelling.

The Korean man looked at him and said, "Yes it was."

"It says operation aborted. You aborted my operation!" Mike yelled.

"No, your card was declined." The Korean store owner explained with a poker face.

"Try it again. You are doing that just to mess with me." Mike insisted.

"Fine." The store owner said. Everyone exchanged glances. I looked down ashamed they had seen me speaking to him only minutes earlier. My friend was acting like a jerkoff. I felt like apologizing, explaining he had a drug habit. That he was sick. That it was the alcohol and crack talking. This is why he was being a colossal fuckwad.

Mike leaned towards me, "I know my card works. I blew $120 at Fast Eddies. Then I continued on to get some other goodies." I said nothing. I didn't want to know anymore.

"I have to go." A woman behind us said. She had been standing there for some time holding two pregnancy tests. This might mean a future trip to Planned Parenthood or a Happy Dance. I was leaning towards the first.

The store owner tried it again. Declined. "Your machine is fucked up!" Mike screamed and shoved a crumpled dollar bill at the clerk.

"Let me see if your ATM has the same conspiracy!" Mike said as he stalked out of the store. We all glanced at each other. Glad he was gone.

"I was here before you." The woman with the pregnancy tests said and shoved them the clerk's way. Yeah, she was. I didn't care. Maybe she feared her convicted felon boyfriend with no job and a one way ticket to Day Top knocked her up and now she had to ease her mind. Or maybe she was an obnoxious slut. Either way, I didn't feel like fighting.

A minute later Mike popped back in. "Your ATM machine works. Mission aborted!" Mike said as she began to wave around bills.

"Have a good day." The Korean store owner said totally killing this impromptu scene of crackhead street theatre. I felt embarrassed, sick, and almost apologized. It had been years since one of my so called friends caused a scene like that. I had not kept company that negative in a very long time.

I ordered the balloons I needed for the delivery. As I did this, I began to think on that part of my life. Yes, the one that had the psychotic former fiance and ended with me getting a different mailing address so he couldn't find me. I remember that somehow, God or something higher flew in and got me to fly right. While I was walking down the wrong path, I changed direction. After shifting gears, my focus became on pursuing my ventriloquism and writing.

While I have shown up for a long time with little or no results, recently the tide has been changing. I am Netflix famous. It is cool, I just wish my bank account knew. My problem today is my DVD taping, what material to use, and how to fill the seats. It's not longer having lovers, friends, or a lifestyle that could get me killed. Things are only getting better. It's because I got off the dark path that was leading me only to worse and worse pain.

I hope my friend realizes that the answers he craves are not at the end of his crack pipe or in the whore house that he has probably been hanging out at. Rather, they are inside his soul. Until that time, he will be torturing store owners, and potentially calling the cops because he swears to God the FBI has broken into his house.

Or maybe he could amuse us all and do a crackhead dance. Either way, it could have been me if I kept going that way with my life. I am glad I got out and continue to try to get it right. Maybe someday he can too. Either way, I am fortunate I escaped when I did. Some people aren't so lucky.

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

Come see me for my DVD taping
April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 w. 22nd st

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

A Letter To Winter

Dear Winter,

I am breaking up with you.

It's not you, it's me. Actually, it is you. You are cold, unfeeling, icy, and abusive. Not to mention you don't care about my thoughts, my plans, my feelings, ME!!! As a matter of fact, we have been over the same things time and time again. At the beginning of March, you are supposed to open up. Be warm. Give us hope. Instead, you promised you would and as usual you LIED!

I tried everything I could to accommodate your terrible behavior. I have changed my plans because you were having a hissy fit and decided to make it snow. I have stayed in when I wanted to go out because you chose to be ten degrees. Oh, and I have done everything I could to put up with you. I wore four layers and a huge coat. I purchased extra hats, gloves, and scarves. When you said you were going to let up, you lied. And then when you said it would be different this year, you lied.

I know you have been through a lot. Yeah, the whole pollution thing destroying the Earth and global warming can put anyone in a bad place. I know it makes you feel unsure and now you have to act all macho because your Mother Earth abused you as a child. But it's not my fault.

We have broken up several times already this year, and you always worm your way back into my heart with your cute snow flakes, the ability to build snow men after snow storms, and not to mention skiiing, but I am over you. Hear me, I am over you. You aren't going to change. You are just going to be your Jack Frosty self.

Go away.

I left your shovels and salt on the sidewalk

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

Come see me for my DVD taping
April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 w. 22nd st

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Ms. Fairweather

Lately things have been interesting. I have a lot of things on the burner, one being my impending DVD taping at the Metropolitan Room and then a headlining theatre gig in Long Island amongst other things. These are two things I have always dreamed of doing since I graced the stage. Yeah, it took me some time to do it. But the truth is, sometimes things don't happen in my time. Things cannot happen before their time. Does it make me happy? No, but it's the nature of the beast.

When life gets full, things get a little stressful. Sunday I was having a meltdown. Yes, an April being April moment. A cry my eyes out and pull my hair kind of day. It's ugly when it happens. I am the type of person that will worry you to the ground. Seriously, I will. Anyway, I ended up calling an old friend whom I will call Cassidy. The day before I had been having the same kind of meltdown and Cassidy kind of talked me off the ledge, kinda. Still, she can be kind of a know it all. She's one of those people who tells you how to drive the bus but doesn't have a license. When I say she kinda talked me off the ledge she said some things that made me believe life was worth living but made me think a leap might be a better idea tomorrow when the weather was better for suicide. Well I wasn't suicidal but one of those "feel like I am gonna die oh shit" meltdowns.

To let you know she kept asking me about my financial situation and if I had my rent paid. In my mind of course I am already evicted and on the sidewalk. Nevermind I have two weeks to make the money materialize. She kept asking if I would starve. No bitch. I am having some money and career angst and feel overwhelmed but I am not starvin like Marvin. After that she tells me she lost her job and is living on unemployment. And you have the nerve to ask if I have my shit together. I told her my fear is always being homeless. Cassidy said, "I have been in that spot many times and don't feel sorry for you." Didn't ask you to.

The next day we spoke again because she knew an old friend of mine. Anyway, she proceeds to tear down a  lot of the things I am doing with my life. She mentions xyz, things I am looking forward to, might not happen. No shit Sherlock. I think of this daily. If I wanted that anti-reassurance and to feel deep pains in the pit of my stomach I have several family members I could call that would tell me the same thing. Then she proceeded to tell me how to proceed with a certain thing. As I was listening to her I was thinking, "You have no idea what you are talking about, bitch." I began telling her about something and she hung up on me. WTF!?!?! Either I was crazy when she was my friend or she was crazier than I remembered. Perhaps she had gotten crazier over time. Still, it left me feeling hurt. I needed a friend to tell me it was okay. Instead, she left me feeling like I wanted to jump in the damn Hudson. The only thing stopping me was it was cold. Oh and I am not suicidal. I just had my brain sucked out.

I wondered what happened to my old friend. Cassidy was hippy dippy but positive. Once upon a time she had really been there for me through some tough shit. Granted, she has always been on the edge of indigent. Still, Cassidy went to the crystal store and stuff. The whole encounter left me drained. She had been crazy in the past but she was never negative.

I felt crappy and went to see some friends. Instead of making me feel all doomy and gloomy they listened and told me it was going to be okay. They told me it would pass. They asked why I didn't call them instead. I laughed and started to feel better about everything. I called a woman who's like my mom and she lovingly suggested my nut ball friend might have totally lost her mind and might have deep seeded psych issues. And she too suggested no longer calling Cassidy.

Second Mother also suggested that now I was getting to see Cassidy the way a lot of other people did. Cassidy has been kicked out of everywhere she has lived. Additionally, she has gotten herself in other jams. On top of that, her know it all has come out at the wrong time and people have flown off the handle at her.

Later I went and hung out with a buddy breaking up with her girlfriend. Yes, it's a lesbian breakup. She joked, "My ex girlfriend is like winter. She won't go away." I told her everything and this friend not only made me feel better, but she made me feel excited about everything I was doing. Bonus, she said these were good things and good problems I had. Yeah, I am scared and don't know what is next but I am also excited.

We went to a bar to see a friend perform Marilyn Monroe, and our friend killed it. I also made some new friends and danced the night away. I heard all my favorite 80s songs, which was God's way of telling me it was going to be alright. In between being around good people, laughing until my sides hurt, and dancing the night away, I felt better. Oh and a creepy guy kept pursuing me which kinda made me feel pretty in a sick way. LOL.

This morning I went kickboxing. I woke up early but it was awesome. My running buddy aka The Mexican was there in full force. We trained hard and then went to Dunkin Donuts and talked about karate, street fighting, and ways to kill people. We ended up striking a convo with a former hockey player turned lawyer about the best way to cripple someone in  a street fight.

Then I hit an open mic and tried out a new tag a friend had given me for a joke. Not only was I excited for my new tag, but the new tag killed.

A musician friend joked, "Yeah, if you call her, you will jump. Better not let her work for the suicide hotline."

Translated, I have a lot of love around me. I only need people to bring me up, not drag me down. Spring cleaning means cleaning out my closet and cleaning out my refrigerator. But it also means cleaning out negative people from my life.

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

Come see me for my DVD taping
April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 w. 22nd st

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Dream Lover (Mariah Carey)

I had two dreams about crushes this week, past and present. Earlier this week I had a dream about a crush from my past. He was a Sagitarrian. Yes, as in the sign that refuses to work, gets by off of scamming women and their bedroom swings like a NYC subway turnstyle. They are probably as dirty as one too, seeing that Sag's are more often than not homeless.

Anyway, this tattooed dream boat who I will call Bobby met me when I was a teenager. At eighteen, I was this fawn trying to find my voice and he was just a bad boy. Seriously bad. I mean, obsessed with cars and doing drugs bad. Oh, and he also tested the judicial system kind of bad. You know, my future husband. DUH!!! Anyway, I liked him and he liked me. But the way of these things is I did what I was supposed to do with my life and he didn't. So Bobby ran around with trashy women who hated the fact he always gave me free rides in this car he painted and remodeled. One evening I tried to impress him and failed. Yeah, we were friends after that but eh.

Well Bobby kicked drugs, found God, and now is more annoying than ever. According to my friends who have stayed in touch with him, Bobby will read the Bible and preach to anyone who will listen. Most people don't, they just run like they saw Godzilla when Bobby comes. Apparently, he has a tattoo of an angel on his back with the words "Jesus saves." Yeah, he should have stuck to heroin. Bobby is also married to another women he met in drug treatment. Apparently they are opening a church with a tattoo shop in it. She also has angel wings on her back and didn't cover these up in the wedding pictures. Just cause you met in rehab don't mean you gotta dress like it.

Several nights ago, I had a dream I got another chance with Bobby. We were at an old hang out in my hometown, Benny's Flat Bread. Anyway, Bobby and I were in the parking lot. I looked into his deep, dark, bad boy bedroom eyes. He went to kiss me. I had waited so long for Bobby Thomas the bad boy to kiss me. I would be swept off my feet, right?Oh wrong. Hell to the no. Bobby Thomas gave me the sloppest, wetest, emptiest kiss. Oh and he slipped me the most vile tongue. I just kept thinking, "NOOOOO!!!!!" Granted, you are a disappointment in real time but at least you could have been good in my dreams. On the regular when I hear about Bobby Thomas the universe is telling me I dodged a bullet. Looks like I double dodged a bullet. When a man is a sucky kisser even in your dreams, there was never a future there. And to think I let that failure break my heart.

A present crush I found myself dreaming about is a friend of mine. He is born under the sign of Cancer. To me, a man born under that sign is like crack cocaine laced with kryptonite. Yeah, they start out like a good time but end up ruining me forever. This crush, whom I will call Arliss, is so not my type. I am not usually into dudes like him, but I am kind of into him. He called me out of the blue a few weeks ago and can't get him out of my mind. We were always friends, then we worked together, then things got crazy, and then they didn't. Arliss was a little bit of a mack daddy back in the day. Between him and his roommate/best friend, they slept with every girl I knew aside from me.

Eighteen months ago I saw Arliss's bestie and he introduced me as the only girl he knew from that time period that didn't sleep with him. Yeah, I was a little bit of a good girl and prude during that period in my life. Beyond prude, I didn't even know how to talk to a guy. Hell I still don't. Anyway, I remembered how those two were Mack Daddy Supreme.

So things got complicated cause Arliss had a gal pal. Things were on the rocks when we reconnected, but he still very much loved her. It got even more complicated cause Arliss's new bestie liked me, but was too weird to make a move. Even though I am far from the prude Arliss knew back in the day, he is still too much of a Mack Daddy for me. Plus I never pegged myself for his type. Oh and I wear wayyy too much clothing, LOL. Not that he works in a strip club, but his job puts him around a crappola loada of beauties.

Well I have not been able to get Arliss out of my mind. In the middle of this week I had a dream. We were at a party and he told me he liked me. He told me he always thought I was pretty, but didn't want to ruin our friendship (AWWWW!!!!). Anyway, he told me he always wanted to kiss me. Arliss took me out to the patio and kissed me passionately. We then proceeded to make love like the world was ending, and let me tel you he was HOTTTTTTTEERRRRR than ever in my dream.

I asked him if I would see him again. Before he could answer me, I woke up.

Note to self, Sagitarrians and Cancers disappoint and disappear in dreams and for real. Still, the sleepy time surprises were worth it. Bobby Thomas is married but that could all change. Arliss is coupled but apparently they are on the fritz. There is always summer poppy seeds.


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

Come see me for my DVD taping
April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 w. 22nd st

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Blood and Guts

I am single. Lately it has been crossing my mind because it has been forever and a day since I had a lover. Yeah, I have had many an offer. There are the horny homeless men who promise to take me into their cardboard box and take me no where. Pickup lines include, “Girl, I wanna rip that shit up.”
Then there are the fan letters I get. Most are lovely,but every once in a while I get one that is special to say the least. One man wrote me that he pictured himself standing outside my window watching me take my clothes off. Note to self, he is probably purchasing a ski mask somewhere as we speak. Perhaps chloroform too. For the most part I avoid dating fans. It just is sticky. Plus there is a part of me that likes the fact they write letters to the person they want me to be, not the person I actually am. Yeah, I am kinda boring. The girl on youtube, stage, and television isn’t. The girl who writes books is pretty and smart. More often than not I chew pebbles and wonder why they are crunchy. Yeah, I ruined my own illusion there.
Of course there are the dudes, the real ones, that are actually worth something. They are a dime a dozen. More often than not I scare them off. Some of it is my career choice and the fact I am never around. Then there is the fact that I am quite independent, I don’t need a man. Oh, and then I have a life that would kill most people so they are kind of out.
The thing about relationships is at the beginning they are like a Disney movie. Everyone is skipping around in love with the idea of being in love. Prince Charming is still a cartoon. He has still saved me. He is perfect in every way. Oh, and so much better than the last evil magician that trapped me in his castle aka my ex. The absolute spirit animal without any flaws, I find myself planning the wedding and then purchasing the cemetery plots side by side in the first week. Is it psychotic, yeah. But I am a woman. No, I don’t actually do it. I am kidding but you get the just of what I am saying. (Amy Schumer did it for real on her show though).
Hey, the dudes are asking themselves, “Wow, she looks hot. Does she do anal?” So I am allowed to have some evil plans of my own thank you very much.
The honeymoon ends though. Happily ever after is when the book closes and shit becomes real. We all transform into our true asshole, selfish fuck face selves. Gone is the wizened version of Prince Charming and here he is replaced by a real man. Yeah, he has his good points but he also has faults and flaws. Good new is, so do I. Yes, I have relationship issues. Yes, those damn pesky things. The Baby Ruth in a swimming pool. I know I should cut myself a break because my partner is less than perfect himself. Still when my issues come out, it is a test.Their issues come out too. Here’s the rub, sometimes our issues are like gasoline and fire making a shit mess of everything in a catastrophic explosion.
At the beginning a dude likes a smart female companion until she is smarter than him, especially in front of his friends. A dude also likes a woman with political passions, until she tells his best friend what a fucking dumbass he is. I have done this too. The activist is fun until she is fighting, biting your head off, and then some. Many don’t understand my need to continually speak out against dating violence, especially the men I date. They wonder why I “can’t get over it.” Worse yet, they label me a man hater and want to be the one who rocks my world and is different. Make me want to fucking vomit. Or then there is my work as a teaching artist to the artistically underserved children in bad neighborhoods and drug addicts in rehab centers. There are the dudes who’s idiot friends quip that my work could get me robbed. Maybe it could, but I do it because these people need a voice and they matter. Then they say I should let my man be a man, and that I don’t appreciate him as a man and all that happy horse shit. That my job is just to sit there and suck his dick as I wait on him hand and foot. Homeboy please.
If we are able to survive that hurdle it’s whether I can survive their crap. Yes, I am talking family members that should be out of a horror movie mixed with dark comedic elements. I have enough of those, what makes you think I want yours? Or then there is their familial drama. I have my own, again I don’t want yours. I understand you have a few family members that have tested the judicial system or have done drug treatment. So have I. That doesn’t mean I am comfortable with them sleeping on your couch and using me as a job reference. And then there is your female friend. Yes, the one who was such a slut she is no longer allowed in Ann Arbor because she slept her way through the whole town so now she is rooming with you. You know, the one that wants you and kicked her dog down the stairs to get your attention. She gives me the creeps and I don’t know how she has so much sex cause she is ugly. No wonder your alcoholic father beat you. I would drink and beat you if you were my kid too. Yeah, your mother emasculated you. But you are an adult. Grow a pair, Sir.
Yeah, there’s the door. Don’t let it hit you in the ass.
On top of that I love my space and hate when people get too close to me. I like having my life my own, and once you have a lover you have to share that with someone else. Translated, they know everything. Men are sore losers and more often than not use it against you when they can. A few of my exes have. Then again it was the honeymoon before I got to know Casanova Brown. Yes, before we broke up and I had the town painted red with my name by McFuckhead McPhee.
My part in this is the petty shit makes me insecure. I hide the stupidest crap because I am that scared of rejection when most of the time it is no big deal. For instance, I am not the best house keeper. My stove scares me so I am a microwave cook. Sometimes I forget to wear deodorant because I am in a hurry. I am deathly afraid of dogs but am getting better. I really am quite lame, love nonfiction documentaries, and am pretty much a homebody. I hate loud parties with lots of noise, and many of the personalities there overwhelm me. I am a nondrinker and yes, most of the time I hate your friends. I really don’t get along with other women at first, so don’t match me with your boy’s girl. Most of the time I am all feelings and raw emotion, which is my best and worst quality all in one. Oh and I am pretty awkward too. So much for cool, chic, and pretty. I also have a shitload of trust issues and know you will cheat so go fuck the beef cookie please.
I picture it in my mind. Everyone who has ever dated me is gathered at a table. Yes, they let some of them out of prison and drug rehab for this  occasion. They are talking shit about me and our time together. They are talking about my intimacy, trust, and commitment issues. They are talking about how it ended like a grenade explosion. If anyone knows where the meeting is happening, let me know so I can purposely avoid the location. There is one ex that won’t be present. His current partner will be there. She will have a chart with my outline, highlighting the kill points on my person. Hey, she has been ranting about hating me for nearly eighteen months. Glad she is taking some action.
Either way, I don’t think I will be getting into a relationship anytime soon. My trash romance novels and my fake flames will fuck my brains out in my mind’s eye. I will rip my blood and guts out on paper, onstage, and in my videos.

I haven’t met a person worthy of them yet.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang:Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Come see me for my DVD taping April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room 34 W. 22nd st

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Falling in Love (Miami Sound Machine)

Spring is trying to happen. Winter is like that girl at a party that won't leave. You drop all the hints the party is over. You are taking the table cloth off. You are throwing away the empty plates. Hell, you are even turning on the TV and putting on your PJs and there she is. It's sunny outside but there is this wind. Yes, there she is. Winter, party guest that just doesn't get the hint.

I have been thinking an awful lot about love and relationships for some reason. It has been forever and a day since I had a man. The weather reminds of the last time I had a lover. Actually, he was like Tony Manero from Saturday Night Fever. A Brooklyn asshole and perpetual ladies man, he basically lied to me to get whatever he wanted and needed. Yet I found him funny and enjoyed his company. He catted around with anything that had a vagina and a pulse. Yet when I would mention another dude he would flip. I was out and about the other night when his name came up. Someone said they thought he was the best at what he did and admired his body of work. The whole notion made me want to vomit. Do they know he uses women to further his career? Do they know he hasn't been someone since 2007? Do they know I seriously did enjoy his company as I said before he transformed into his asshole self?

The weird thing is, I liked him a lot even still. Tony Manero has been crossing my mind an awful lot. Word on the street was he liked me a lot. But alas, he was a Brooklyn asshole. I did like him and thought maybe he could eventually turn into a boyfriend but that faded pretty quickly.

I also find myself evoking feelings for a friend of mine. Things got crazy between us for a minute. It was the type of thing where he could always read my mind. Kind of crazy kind of sort. I know this sounds like the diary of a high school girl. Anyway, he a major workaholic and is always on thin ice with his woman. Once I heard them talking on the phone and she was screaming at him. I mean yelling. It's not like he was sneaking around. No, he was working. And he was nothing like Tony Manero. Actually just the opposite. He was sweet, very sweet. Outwardly he is different than me. While he is quiet, he is far from shy. Anyway, we had been friends for a number of years and when he tells a story he is fantastically funny. Well a year ago it became apparent he was into me and I was into him. Needless to say, I don't think he was into me because he was into me. It was because he was on thin ice at home, I am more like one of the guys, and I was a woman with a pulse he could speak to.

Anyway, he had another friend who was kind of into me. I was kind of into his friend too who was a bit of a bad boy. Needless to say my buddy got a tad jealous and the two kind of got into it over me. I am not talking all out street fight but they were just doing that testosterone loaded bitchy snipping. Apparently his pal had a lady too. But it didn't stop his pal from catting around. These dudes, sigh.........

I heard from this buddy two weeks ago and he wants to hang out at some point. Maybe he is single. God I almost hope so. It's not that I dislike his lady, I actually kind of like her. I just feel like they are wrong for each other. Even if I didn't have a thing for him somewhat I would still feel that. She's really girly and really demanding. Who knows? Maybe my pal likes getting his ass kicked. I should have asked if he was single. Apparently they are having a party in a week or two. I will find out then. The whole thing was kind of strange when it happened because I didn't think this pal would have ever been into me. He is the type who really has his pick of the ladies when he is single. Plus he's had years to make a move. Who knows? Men are straaaannnnnnnnngggggggeeeee creatures.

The impending warm weather finds me wanting to have a romantic partner just to have nice dinner's with. That's what I miss about the last official Mr. April Brucker. He was a liar and had other downfalls but he knew a good place to eat. I just want someone to take me out to eat and to dress up for. Hell the weather reminds me of the first time I met him. I also find myself replaying the tape of that relationship and how I was just a horrendous girlfriend. Granted, we were also a terrible match. His current lady hates me. However, he was the first man I ever shared my dreams with. I want to drop him a line and tell him about all the exciting things I am doing with myself. About how I am doing all the things we always talked about me doing. Then again, his current fat whats her face has said some terrible things about me so that's not happening.

The other day a hottie from Turkey helped me carry my groceries to my door. That was nice of him, and he was a total young jack. I could have had a spring fling with him. Another guy I met on the street offered me a role in a porno. I wanted to know if the job had health benefits because one can get STDs doing that kind of work. He still didn't return my text.

There is a basketball court across the street from me. The other day a bunch of young dudes with spring fever were taking off their shirts and playing a spirited game. The yelling and cheering was so loud and had so much bro kick to it I could hear it in my apartment. Like a spooky person peering from her window I watched. Hell, I was a spooky person peering from her window.

I figured maybe I could meet my next dream man there. It's better than scouting the methadone clinic like I usually do for rainbow meat. Then I remember I am a broken toy with lots of baggage that has been dropped a gazillion times. I also think maybe I give people too much credit for being normal and don't give myself enough. Then I see the basketball game and realize they are all fifteen and just look really adult for their ages.

Screw the methadone clinic. I am going to the court house to look for defendants. They will appreciate my hot little outfits. Hey, they might not see a woman for the next 20 years and spring is coming up. And when that ends, maybe I can date their lawyer and live happily ever after. Until then, it's too cold for such nonsense. The dream of the fake lover boy will have to wait.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Come see me
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd at 7pm

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Devotion (Earth, Wind, and Fire)

At the age of twenty-two, I seemed awfully young but felt I lived enough for ten people. I had done enough damage that it was time to say goodbye to some vices in my life. These were big steps for me. I never thought I would do it. It went from bad, to worse, to straight up fuckery. My life had become a pattern of bad choices, bad people, and always peering over my shoulder. The true friends I had were gone. They couldn’t handle me or what had become of my life. Who needed Shakespeare in the Park when I would arrive? Now here I was, getting my crippled sea legs to walk on land again.
It was July of 2007 when this transformation occurred. They said drink as much coffee and smoke as many cigarettes as you want. I never smoked really, so I just loaded up on coffee. Hell, it was still better than the speed I had taken to lose weight. Sitting at the diner, I was slurping down another cup of coffee. I had just done a comedy spot and was crying because I was having trouble getting my rhythm onstage sober. Oh and everyone decided to remind me what an asshole I was when I drank. Far from the child my mother raised and lost, I bemoaned my life to a group of new friends. They knew Bill and Bob, friends of mine along the way. As they entertained my young and stupid, the song “Devotion” began playing. A drop top with an ethnically ambiguous couple drove by. The song was slow, smooth, and relaxing. It was serenity and peace, something you don’t know after your 8th cup of coffee.
 “Isn’t that the Temptations?” I asked.
“No, it’s Earth, Wind, and Fire. Of course a young, white girl would get them confused.” The black queen said sipping his coffee. He eyed me up and down with a mix of curiosity and contempt. His voice was low and languid just like the music. He said his name was Lenox just like the Avenue. Lighting his cigarette, he puffed into the night. Adding to the smog that was New York in the summer, I could feel us all reaching an early grave. Our stupid choices hadn’t killed us, maybe all the second hand smoke would.
“They all wear similar outfits and have Afros. How the hell was I to know.” I replied.
To my pleasant surprise Lenox laughed. “This is very true. However, they would know how to do their lipstick and keep it in the lines.” Damn that hurt.
“Snappedy snap!” Someone yelled. It was a Puerto Rican kid who’s name I didn’t get and who disappeared after that night.
The whole table laughed now. “Maybe a more neutral shade is all I am saying.” Lenox said taking another puff of his cigarette. As a black queen, he fearlessly rocked pink. He styled hair and was obsessed with clothing. “However, I will forgive this. We could still possibly be friends. However, if you had confused the Supremes with the Vandellas, there would never be a chance, Child.”
Time went on and that summer scene became a mere memory. Things got worse as I really had to come to terms with who I was. Instead of being cool and tough like the potential girlfriend to The Marlboro Man, I was more or less a dork. I had no skills when it came to men. The fact I had left a man who hit me and made me give up my dreams also left me with some trust issues. It also left me doubting my talents as a ventriloquist and comedian. Of course there was the fact I was always on thin ice with my boss…..
Things got better. People began to see I was growing up and doors began to open. I saw I was a good puppeteer and could do shows for all ages easily. That it was okay to be sensitive, hell sometimes it is one of my best qualities. I am coy as hell when it comes to dudes, and sometimes they think it’s adorable. I also had friends who for the most part obeyed the law. So yeah.
Then things got real. Some of my friends didn’t leave the lifestyle. I saw them continue to be tornados in the paths of those they crossed, and continually screw up their own lives. The rest of us grew up as they stayed jogging in place. Then there were those who experienced the joys of homelessness and jail. Finally, there were those who the lifestyle claimed. Yes, I know people who have overdosed, been murdered, or have taken their own life. Oh and in between there I experienced money problems, career uncertainty, and things not happening on my clock.
However I refused to give up. My puppets became my children and my career my only lover. Through dedication and hardwork, I got on national television not once but several times with my kiddies. I began doing shows for all ages. People recognized me on the street or at gigs from being on TV. I wrote and published a book. As a writer I managed to get my work into places deemed hard to break into and cliquish. As a comedian, I began to do well in front of audiences I never dreamed would like me. I also started doing shows for children in hospitals with my puppets. My same boss who wanted to fire me most of the time years earlier gave me an amazing opportunity because of my writing. I went from looking like hell to selling my own calendar on my website. If I ran into the old April on the street, I probably wouldn’t know her. If I did recognize her, I would probably try to lose her like a welfare mother does her sixth kid that she gets care giver money for.
However, I ran into the old April in several different ways this week. Some of it has been people from my past popping up. Some desperately want to leave the life style but keep getting sucked in. I want to help them, but they don’t want to do what it takes to get out. There is a part of me that feels guilty for not being able to help them. However, I feel selfish because I was able to get out.
This week I also counseled a friend of mine trying to exit a toxic, abusive relationship. She’s got some wreckage in her life. Her best friend and roommate hates her currently. It’s not her fault. The relationship is like a drug. I was there for the both of them. My friend who was in it telling her it’s like a drug, and it’s going to be a while before she feels okay. Also telling her to keep ignoring her ex’s pleas to come back. And her bestie telling her that my bud’s conduct wasn’t personal. The relationship is like a drug. I was also able to tell them there was life afterwards and the answer was to chase your dreams. I know because that’s not only what rescued me, but it’s what pretty much kept me from killing myself.
Last night a comedian friend confided in me he stopped drinking after his life got too crazy. He was feeling good but riding the rollercoaster. I basically told him his comedy would only get better, I know mine did. What I also told my pal was he wouldn’t have to become entangled with crazy women anymore. Oh, and he wouldn’t have to be humiliated the way he was ever again. I encouraged my friend to write more. It would cure his sleeping problem and would keep him sane. I know it’s what helped me, kept me sane, and kept me from blowing my brains out.
Sometimes I beat myself up for not being exactly where I want to be. But I am where I am supposed to be and am doing just fine. If I continue to walk into the light I have a shot of getting there. I can also tell people hell is hot as a mutherfucker, I have been there. I can also tell them that they can get out, I know cause I did.
This morning I was messaged by a booker I worked with during my exit from that lifestyle. He told me he had been following me and how proud he was of all I was doing. That is when it hit me. If I didn’t take the journey I did and didn’t get out, none of what I am doing would even be remotely possible. These days, my big worry is my DVD taping at The Metropolitan Room. Liza Minelli and Joan Rivers perform there. I am sweating to make it all come together. As I headline theatres and chase my punchlines, I am only getting funnier.
My naysayser may call me names and my enemies may use this as ammo against me. Truth be told, for as dysfunctional as the old me was, she is always going to be a part of my fabric. I am not ashamed of her. If anything, I am proud. And haters, please tell me something I didnt know about myself. Those I know who are struggling to get out or lost to the lifestyle, my victories are not merely for myself but for them as well. Just like I want these things for myself, so would they.
In my mind’s eye, I see Lenox with his cigarette, puffing away. I don’t know what happened to him. Word on the street was he fell back into drugs and was homeless last time I heard. In my mind though, he is still robust, funny, and on point. As he ashes his cigarette in my flashback, he quips like he always did, “Fag, they call this that in England.”
Then I hear his deep laugh. The sound always gives me comfort. It is bright and clear as ever as spring is now trying to make an appearance. I say winter is like an ugly girl at a party who is just dampening the place and just won’t leave. Lenox somewhere agrees. He taught me Earth, Wind, and Fire were different from the Temptations. He taught me to keep my lipstick within the liner. As the sunlight hits my skin, I hear “Devotion” from an ambitious, open window. Someone with cabin fever is doing spring cleaning. They are throwing out the bad and keeping the good. It is a sign of growth. It is something we should all do at all times of our lives. It is something that I did once upon a time that changed everything.

 “Thru devotion, blessed are the children.”
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Come see me at the Metropolitan Room April 22nd at 7pm

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Spring Cleaning

They say everything you need is in front of you. That applies in two instances: one, meditation. Two, spring cleaning. Yes, I am cleaning my apartment so I can BREATHE. Man, I have outfits that I couldn’t remember where I put them. It’s crazy how that just happens automatic like that. I am already starting to feel better. With the polar vortex I picked up a lot of depression and a lot of dirt.

Lately a lot has been going through my mind. I don’t know what the fuck I am supposed to be doing with myself. When I first came to New York I wanted to be an actress and nothing else. Yeah, I wanted to do ventriloquism and write my own shit. Then I got pulled into comedy and spent my weekends on the road seeing a lot of places and meeting a lot of people. After which I became a reality TV star and a talking head online getting a somewhat nice following. Then I wrote a book and published in some cool places. I have been all over the map. I don’t know where to go next or to return to a previous destination.

I am having doors open in a few different mediums. Two are nice deals, one is with ventriloquism and the other is with the singing telegram stuff. The third is with my writing. Oh and then I am doing more standup again. I had management several years ago and did better when I dumped them. Then I had a few misses. Again, I don’t know what to do next.

Either way the closet is clean(er) and there is food in the refrigerator. At least those basics are covered. Sigh, now to do my shoes

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

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Beat of Love (Regina)

It is the first warm day in forever. Man do I have such cabin fever. First thing is first, I have been itching like a bitch to come out of my house. I usually don't book many live shows in the winter. It's not because I am lazy. It's because the likelihood of them getting cancelled is quite good. Between the cold, snow, and other natural elements cramping my style I more or less write and make videos. Plus if they do happen, attendance is sparse.

I am wearing a cute little outfit that is a gift from a friend. I figure, why not? I just need to have some warm spring adventures. Yes, this means finding love. It has been forever since I had a real boyfriend. When I was younger I had the fiance which was a disaster. Then I had a boyfriend. Actually, I am having some of the same things happen to me when this last real boyfriend entered my life. I am getting some good career news, and again am kind of spear heading a project I was only tapping then. I still have the same dreams, and again they are unfolding before my eyes.  But yet I feel lonely as freaking hell.

I almost miss talking to that ex because we have so much in common. I mean, he did some things well. He was a food and wine snob. He had a nice condo. Granted, he bored me otherwise and his mom was cat shit crazy. Oh and his female bestie tortured me whenever she could because she wanted him, and always knew much too much about our relationship....boundaries much. Still, it was the first time in my life someone I dated hadn't been to jail. As a criminal lawyer, he was not far away from being a convict. It rocked my freaking sense of trust when I found out he was a pathological liar. His current whatever the fuck she is occasionally harasses me. She has been quiet for sometime. Maybe they adjusted her meds or maybe she found a new drug to make her fat ass nod off. So no, we ain't getting back together, thank Jesus.

It's weird, it has been forever and a day since I walked down the street holding someone's hand. Or I had a picnic in the park with someone. I forget how much fun that can be. Better yet, then there is the dinner with a dude. Yeah, I have dinner with male friends who are gay but it's not the same. I don't know. It's just.....something you want when it is warm.

Yeah, I had Holden. You read all about him. He got wrapped up in drugs and all my friends scolded me when I cried codependent tears for him. Now he's sobered up, found God, and let me just say he is more annoying than ever. Have you ever found yourself missing someone who did drugs and slept with men for money? I did once he started quoting The Big Book of AA and Scriptures. I never thought I found myself missing someone who was such a mess. Actually, he is just a different mess. Either way, he is now working at Sears and is with a woman just as crazy as he is. Good, they deserve each other. Still, it was one of the few times in my life that I said I love you and meant it.

Then of course there are the other satellites that I miss. There is Dead Beat Daddy, whom was just bad news in so many different ways. The last time I saw him he gave me this hug like he did nothing wrong and none of what happened between us was his fault whatsoever. But I find myself missing the initial connection we had at the beginning. Cancer guys, always the perfect dudes in the beginning but always have a deep dark secret and then they turn into their asshole selves. In there I also miss some other dudes I clicked with. Yes, I mean Richie who didn't exactly have his life together and neither did I but he was sweet. I also missed the celebrity I dated briefly, but he is on to someone new. Then a fling I had once upon a time is getting married which is strange.

The one entering my mind that is kind of weird is a crush I had last year. He was working on this project with me. It was all kind of crazy. Holden was in and out of my life, more out. Still, I was kind of hung over from the experience. Anyway, I developed a crush on this dude. It was hard to say whether or not he liked me back. Sometimes I thought he did. Sometimes it was that I didn't even exist. Actually, he was kind of shy and studious and all that shit I am not normally attracted to. It's not that he was being rude, he was just, I dunno. I mean, he knew my name and all but he was always surrounded by beautiful women. I didnt have a prayer. In the end we just ended up as friends. It was for the best. My life would have killed him. Still, he was adorable. I don't think he knew I was crushing on him which was for the best but still. I don't think he was smart enough to catch on. I also think I was way overworked, way lonely, and he was just way there.

I get all sorts of fan mail from dudes who have seen me on TV. Some want to date me which is cool. I dunno, it is cool. Most of my fans are dudes. I don't even know what I am trying to say at this point. I feel like a fat, pathetic, thirteen year old girl. I guess what I am trying to say is, for as much male attention as my career has gotten me, I am still shy to the point of being pathetic. I don't know how to approach a dude. As for being a girlfriend I am a complete disaster. Between my laser career focus, my too much baggage, and lack of kitchen skill no man wants me. At least no dude with his shit together. I wouldn't know how to treat a nice dude if I had one.

You know what? The warm weather is damaging my fucking brain. I am just going crazy cause I have worked like a slave at the galley all winter. Because of it I am in a favorable position. I will be busy again. I am just having some insanity. Thank God it will be cold tomorrow. That way I can't make too many bad decisions this week

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

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Big Booty Ho (Kanye West) aka A Bronx Tale

Yesterday I delivered a singing telegram in the Bronx. It was one of those where it was such a disaster it was classic. I embarked on my adventure and Bruce called me cause it was a last minute thing. Anyway, I got to the Bronx and the client had given me the wrong train stop. So I asked a local who barely spoke English and directed me to the correct train stop.I got there and took a cab to third avenue. I thought I would finally be at Applebees. Oh no, I had gotten the wrong address too. Maybe in a haste my boss had copied it down wrong. Or maybe the client had given it wrong. Either way I was in middle Earth, it was getting cold, and my day was sucking supremely.

Well I called Applebees and instead of being 3750 it was 4752, which kind of put me in another area of the Bronx entirely. I kept trying to hail a lime green cab but those assweeds kept passing me. Since it was rush hour, the buses were crowded and there was no way I was getting on, especially since every damn woman in the world had a freaking stroller and kid she probably couldnt afford hanging off of her. I thought fuck me, fuck my life, fuck my bad decisions. It was too late now though. I kept walking and figured this was the end of the eventfulness. The telegram would go well, right?

Oh no. I got to Applebees after a half hour walking. I felt like Moses and the Jews wandering the ancient desert for 40 years. I called the client. This was the correct Applebees. While I was so tired I could have died, I had a show to do. I got there and the manager was quick to help me get changed. The population of this Applebees was mostly black and Spanish. Some of the folks were scared as hell of the pink gorilla, where some waved and got their kids to wave. I was in the Bronx. This was a different planet.

Anyway, I went to sing to the birthday boy. The population at the table was kind of rachet hood, but they were good people and wanted to have fun. I started to do my thing rapping to the birthday boy, and a second later a manger comes over. This is how the first exchange went:

Manager: She can't do that here.

Client: I got clearance from the manager.

Manager: I am the manager. She can't do the telegram in that suit.

Client: I talked to the other manager, the pregnant one. She said it was okay.

So the manager walks off. The client instructs me to continue. I decide as long as Applebees is going to harass me, I am going all out. So I started rapping to "Big Booty Ho" by Kanye. While insulting the birthday boy was turning 21. Our table and the surrounding tables joined in as we sang this rap anthem that is incredibly insulting to women but fun as hell. So as we are having a good time this West Indian security dude comes over and he should have had asshole tattooed on the middle of his forehead. He walks over with his ethnically ambiguous Applebees employee climbing up the ranks. This is how this exchange went

Security Guard: Excuse me, Miss, you have to leave.

Me: Okay.

Client: She is a singing telegram. I have permission to have her here.

Security Guard: What?

Client: Yes. Now continue.

I sang Happy Birthday and decided it was best to get the fuck outta Dodge. While the client was supposed to tip me I also didn't want to end this adventure in handcuffs. So I finished my skit and was on my way out. Just then the client called me back in.

Client: I wanna give you a little something. You did a good job.

The client's family member, who by the way is missing a very important tooth near the front of his mouth hands me a twenty.

Security Guard walks over. This man is not going to lose and he is taking his job way too seriously.

Security Guard: I know you are trying to help her but she has to go. Come on, Miss.

Client: No, I was giving her a little something. She is a singing telegram. I ordered her.

Security Guard: She needs to go.

And what happened next would shock us all. Yes, she even wagged her finger hood style.

Client: LISTEN MUTHERFUCKER, I ORDERED THIS!  Yeah, that;s right. I paid for this! I paid for this with my money, mutherfucker!  And here you were all up in our shit when we had permission from the manager to do this. Oh, and you fucking ruined my video!!!

The Security Guard: I'm sorry.

Client: You better be, mutherfucker. I am so mad I could cut you.

Security Guard: There will be no need for that m'am

That is when she lifted her hands and I saw the biggest pair of Edward Scissorhands hood nails. The security guard, asshole on a power trip, was now afraid he was going to be sliced to shreds. This table perhaps had a weapon or two on them, but those nails seemed to be the most effective one of all. And who would have thought this would all occur at Applebees. That is when I waved, ran out, and jumped on the Metro North which was right there. Yeah, it ate up a few bucks. But it got me to Grand Central and I figured I had enough adventure for one day.

I say at the end of every shitty adventure there are not tears but punchlines. This was pure comedic gold. Note to self, come back in the next life as a West Indian dude just so I can say nasty shit with a cool accent. Or better note to self, come back as a rachet black lady and that way people will take me seriously when I threaten to cut them.

Either way, I am thinking of putting this one in the sequel.

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

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Hypnotic Tango (My Mine)

I haven't blogged in a minute because things have been busy. Valentine's Day was busy, and then the week afterwards we had some deliveries moved because of the storm. I actually ended up working more. On top of that, someone close to me is going through some stuff. I don't want to say who or what but it has made me worry about them in a way I haven't in a while. It has also torn open and put acid on a lot of old wounds that I thought were healed. Maybe we never heal, I dunno.

I have been feeling the Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities. It has literally been the best of times and the worst of times. The worst of times because all this old crappola is making me go apeshit crazy at times. The best of times because a lot of my dreams are coming true. I am set to tape my DVD at the Metropolitan Room in NYC on April 22nd. Additionally, I am set to headline a theatre in Long Island in May. A major publication might be doing a story on me. Oh, and a project I am affiliated with got some great news. Much of this news is not just due to the great team I have been working with, but because of my writing. My writing kind of inspired this project and has been very instrumental in opening the doors. Oh, and I am working with the awesome peeps at Gotham Comedy Foundation.

I have been really tired lately. Almost as if I am taffy pulled in several different directions. However it is good. Rent will be paid without a hitch. I am doing what I love. Things are happening. I am happy for others.

Lately I have been feeling like I want to date again. I just don't have the courage to do it. I just don't have the time. I remember every relationship I have ever been in has ended badly. One ex went crazy, the other's current wife or whatever the hell that creature is went crazy. They all go crazy. I say please God send me a Prince. And then a frog comes hopping by. I say, "Fuck no. I am not kissing that foul thing."

So now I have to get back onstage to prepare for my shows, clean my apartment, and change my underwear. Any questions.

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