10 Things Not To Say To Someone Leaving An Abusive Relationship

One thing harder than being in an abusive relationship is leaving. I, and a lot of other people have been there. I say people as LGBTQ people are often victims of domestic abuse and refuse to report it because of the bigotry of law enforcement, as are a lot of males. Leaving is a hurdle because it forces you to break to codependent cycle, as codependency is the addiction that kills the most people whether it is enabling the drug use or other addictive behavior of a loved one, or staying in an unhealthy relationship where your safety is at risk.

In the process of leaving a situation of codependency and abuse, here was some of the unhelpful feedback I got from well meaning people. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions and these folks paved a highway. So I hope this helps someone out there who's either in the process of leaving an abusive partner, or someone who's trying to be of support so they are more successful in doing so.

“How Did You Let This Happen?” Well sometimes we don’t know what we sign up for until we fall into things. I take Nicole didn’t know OJ was a domestic abuser and murderer on their first date. Just like I didn’t know my charming former fiancé would attempt suicide in front of me the first time I tried to leave. Bottom line, you don’t know someone until you know them. And by the time, it might be too late. 

   “You’re Awfully Bitter and Angry.” I have been through a lot and my feelings are still fresh. But the words I prefer are honest and real. And now that we are being honest and real, if you are going to continue to give me this feedback I don’t need you or want you in my life.

 “ It Makes People Uncomfortable When You Talk About It.” Yes, this was a legit letter I got on facebook from a (straight) man of course. I will continue to talk about it and I hope it makes people uncomfortable. Because in discomfort we can have a dialogue for change in culture, and change in the legal system to help people like myself. And in this same dialogue, we can also let people (because a lot of LGBTQ people are DV folks as well) know that they are not alone.  

   “You Need To Get Over Him.” That is so cute. Thank you for your feedback. I want to move on, but kind of tough when he won’t leave my property. Kind of tough when he calls and hangs up and I have to log them. Kind of tough when he threatens the people I am trying to date. But yeah, this is all because I am so hung up on the love he gave me. (Asshole).

“What Did You Do To Him?” To answer your question I tied him to the bed, blew him for hours, and then he fucked me in the ass. Since then, the sex with me has been like napalm in the morning. But this was after I killed this dog and nailed it to the tree and then cast a love spell because I am such an awful witch.  No, I did nothing you stupid fucking waste of flesh. You are victim blaming and that is unacceptable. People like you are the curse of DV people everywhere and it has kept us from getting the help we need. Now kindly step into traffic……

  “There Are People Have It Worse Than You.” Currently I am being stalked and harassed by my former lover. Until now I didn’t understand what it was to be hunted like wild game but now I do. The legal system doesn’t protect me as I am constantly reminded of his rights. My ex chased me through the bus station and harasses and threatens my friends to find out my whereabouts. I need a PO Box and unlisted address because if he shows up I am terrified he will kill me, and his sister told me she would so my fears are based in reality. But thank you for reminding me of the starving children in Africa and people with cancer. Their lives suck, I get it, but I am entitled to my rage and pain. The cancer peeps and kids in Africa called. They hate you too.

 “I Wish A Guy Would Obsess Like This Over Me.” Now this is when I ask does it hurt to be as stupid as you are?

 “What You Need Is Another Boyfriend.” You’re well intended, I get it. But I want to take my time and don’t want to end up with someone who’s worse. Let me deal with my trauma and abuse on my own timeline. There is no set schedule to heal. And also, maybe my ex is scaring my suitors away by threatening them. Maybe I need some time to myself to get help and to heal. I will get another boyfriend, but just not when you snap your fingers because me being a DV person makes you uncomfortable.

 “Just Get A Restraining Order.” It’s not that easy. They just don’t sell them at K-Mart. There are proceedings, court hearings, lawyers, and I even need to stalk him to some extent to get his address or to find out where he’s staying. And I am constantly reminded he has rights too. (It’s how it works). And even with an Order, he can send friends and family members to harass me, and he can disobey it. An order does not fix everything. And maybe it’s an avenue I am exploring already and hitting a dead end. But yeah, thanks.

   “You Have To Be Compassionate. He’s Sick.” Yes, I am aware of his mental illness. I am well aware of his history of drug abuse and psychotic episodes. Have you ever considered that my compassion turned into enabling and that I put myself into risky situations because I mistook codependency for love? While I believe he needs compassion and professional help, I also need to take the appropriate actions to keep myself sane but most importantly, safe.  

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And So It Goes......

The last few months have been nothing short of a roller coaster ride, full of dips and zig zags and such. Yes, a cliche opener. If you wouldn't know any better I sound like a whiny high school kid on live journal, except I am a whiny adult in cyberspace.

All the hard work I did despite all I had to endure is paying off. I have a mentor guiding my career who is nothing short than amazing. This man is funny, thinks out of the box, has an open mind, but is kind above all things. Not to mention he knows what he is talking about. It's rare to find a mentor who knows what they are talking about in this biz. But he does.

In the past, when someone tried to help me, I always saw the cracks. Maybe I wasn't ready in a way. But also, I know how to sell myself better than anyone. Not to mention I know what I am selling. When I cut ties with a mentor, I always ended up on national television afterwards, usually through my own doing. This guy knows what he is talking about as I said.

The upside of this man is he has been there through my trials and tribulations in my personal life and God knows there have been a great many. I always feel like giving the phone a hug after talking to him. Granted, cell phones are too small for that but still.

It's weird, I haven't been on TV in a while. I take that back. TV in the United States. This past year I got on Top Channel in Albania, BBC, Dutch National Television, Love TV in Finland, Telemundo, MTV Europe, and something else I am forgetting with my little puppet family. Ironically, this was all as I was dealing with the landlord from hell. I actually got eviction papers the day I found out I was on Dutch Television.

It's kind of odd in a way that this was all going on as my life was hitting the skids in America. Mind you I was getting fan letters as I was trying to make it work in a relationship that was crumbling. We tried but in the end we didn't belong together. Our values were different. I believed in trying to make it work, he believed in being friends with every ex girlfriend he ever had, and rubbing it in when he didn't get his way. He offered to stop talking to them and I said I didn't care, I just didn't want to know about the particulars of these people. It felt awkward, especially since some were serious losers. (Then again, he was a serious loser). I think he did it to make me feel insecure, put me in my place. He liked making me feel like an ugly duckling.

Deep down, for as dumb as he was he knew I was too good for him. If he tricked me into thinking I needed him, this was gold for the fool. Rest assured he's gone. We were friends who should have stayed friends. But we will never be friends again because I do not respect him as a man. Especially after he sent his crazy sister to do his dirty work. If he ever comes near me again I will call the cops, that is how much I never want to see him again.

Yet I am dating again and I really like the dudes I am dating. So much so that for as badly as my last ex treated me sometimes, I am glad the relationship is over. I got presents from a few on Valentine's Day.....hahahahahah. Not really serious with any of them. I like my freedom not just for myself but for my children. It feels good. It feels natural. It feels like I am free from the tyrannical boot of an ex who didn't appreciate my knowledge of history nor my dedication to my craft. He can have his trailer trash former girlfriends and they can have their precious crumbs. I have my boyfriends who are worth something and my male followers. HA!

I debuted in Vegas after going through all I did. I felt shell shocked the entire time but I hit a home run in front of my mentor. I wish I wasn't so burnt and could have enjoyed it. However, I was just feeling the burn, and not in the Bernie Sanders way.

I performed at the venue that Frank Sinatra and George Burns performed at. If that's not something to be proud of, I don't know what is. Either way, despite the pain I have suffered I am rocking and rolling to the next level.

I cut a lot of people out of my life, posers who liked to gossip. I don't miss any of them. I don't miss my old neighborhood. I don't miss the self-help group I used to attend full of phonies and wannabes who made excuses for their constant failure at life. I don't miss my old building. I miss some of my true friends, and there were about 4 of them. Otherwise, the rest can go to hell.

I am voting for either Hillary or Bernie, not decided yet. Whoever gets the Dem nomination. The fact Trump is leading is scary. He reminds me of Huey Long......enough said. The ex supported Trump. Yes, he was in fact that stupid. Just another in a myriad of reasons that it didn't work out with that half-wit. Watching the first round of Republican debates was painful, especially as he ranted about how Trump would make America great again and my friends and I exchanged painful glances as our brains hurt from his lack of thought.

Later when I announced it was over, they said, "Thank God, you were too smart for him."

Or as my mom explained, "Honey, we were all holding our breath on that one."

Either way, these days I am desperately seeking Mr. Okay. If I find him, he will have to be someone who has been walking upright for some time. Someone who knows politics. Someone who doesn't think socialism is evil (it has only helped Canada and the UK and they are doing better than we are). Someone who doesn't make me feel ugly by taunting me with other women. Someone who's family members know their place and their business. Someone with half a brain.

Maybe the next Mr. April Brucker will be a Democrat. Bernie Sanders is kinda sexy.......but he's kinda married. There's always Bill. Hillary doesn't mind, she's busy running the country like she was before. Still, I am on my own and excited about life. What about you kids? What about you?

Old Days (Chicago)

Not too long ago I was walking down the street and saw a friend from my past. Let's just call him Zeke. To give you an idea, Zeke met me at a time in my life that wasn't so hot. I have written about this time before. Yeah, the ex who was psycho, getting the different mailing address, being scared for my safety. Before that having been forced to give up my beloved puppet children because he didn't approve. Zeke met me as I was coming out of that rough time and trying to find my own.

We had spent a lot of time that summer at the diner. In those days Zeke was smoking. He still wears the painted on jeans and has the metrosexual wardrobe. We would sit outside as a host of characters went in and out. There was Chester, who had eight children and was always finding out about more of his new creations. There was Willie, a former sax player turned former heroin addict who had declared 95 dependents on his tax return. Oh of course there was Ricky, who worked as a stage hand and every damn thing tied back to his stage handing job. Lenox of course was a black queen who would talk about how he used to smoke crack, and how he got busted once for having a blow torch on a plane. Julianna was a high drama artist who thought she was Madonna, and in between getting kicked out of living locations she liked to draw. Deidre was once a groupie for the Grateful Dead, became a mom, cheated on her husband, and then a divorcee. Yasmine was a lesbian activist similar to Maureen in Rent.

Those were the days, kind of. It was wild. It was crazy. It was visceral. I really talked a lot about how all I had wanted to do was comedy. Those were my dreams then. On my way home of course I passed Joe Franklin's Comedy Club, or what it used to be. So many nights I did shows in that back room tourist trap. So many nights I did spots for audiences that couldn't speak English. Afterwards, so many times I got drunk and stumbled my way home through the night. Sometimes the punchlines hit, sometimes they missed. My mom and sister came to see me there, and my sister and some friends came once, too. I was young and ambitious. I had all these goals. The goals had sent me to New York, and the fear was that they wouldn't come true.

I still remembered the comedian characters from those days. There was Barry Lawrence, an older brother type who was destined to be a star but became an even uglier drunk and destroyed a promising comedy career. Last update, had two baby mamas that hated him. Not to forget Shira Katsburg, who had show business ties that she claimed and wore a fur coat no matter what the weather. Donny Lamell hosted a radio show, and showed natural talent onstage but also had a knack for pissing off people that mattered. Mikey Goldman was funny looking and that could get a laugh, but never wrote new jokes so you could say so much for that. Sheila Simmons was sleeping her way through every headliner until one got a restraining order against her when she showed up to his home in a drunken rage. So many people came and went. It was like a revolving door.

The thing that kept me going aside from my dreams was seeing the lights of Times Square only several feet away. I knew someday it was going to happen for me. No one was going to simply hand it my way. In show business, there is entitlement running like the Mississippi through the center of Middle America. The sight of the lights kept me working. Over the years faces from my life came and went and all I could do was keep moving.

Last night I was watching RPaul's Drag Race. Bianca Del Rio won. I remembered Chacho who first introduced me to drag culture. He knew every drag queen there was, and the gossip surrounding them. I found myself missing him and how he would dished on every queen walking. The pain of losing a friend of addiction never goes away. Yeah, it hurts less but there is something about it that always stings. I still remember how one of his runs landed him in the hospital and he told me he was telling people there that he had "a famous friend on TV." Then I realized Chacho meant me.

I also found myself more than ever wondering what happened to the cohorts from the diner. My old comedian chums who had disappeared. I longed for a yesteryear where I could go back and laugh with them about the bullshit. Before I was so wrapped up in myself, and had a cinderblock on my shoulder about who I constantly think I am. I also longed to let them know about all the things I had been up to.

In my journey before the drag race I found myself arranging a venue for an NYC signing of my book. During my meeting with the booker, we spoke about another character we knew, Rick Ocean, a promising comedian who struggled with bipolar. Rick fell off the radar and was homeless the last time anyone heard. He was also seen clad in a tiara and prom dress, don't ask. Anyway, the lights flickered on and off. The booker, a flamboyant man named Brooks Goldberg, explained the ghosts were friendly.

At that moment, it occurred to me my friends from the past might not be physically with me because life tore us apart, they moved on, or they died. However, they didn't leave me. I am sure the characters from the diner follow me wherever they are. Zeke had been eager as ever to get an update on my comedy. Some of my chums from Joe Franklin's back in the day keep in touch, and I know they would keep up with me. And of course, Chacho is keeping track in between the havoc he is wreaking wherever he is.

My visit with Zeke was also significant because it is a marker of how far I have come. After all the work, crying, and continual showing up, my dreams are starting to come true. Some have yet to happen, but it's not a question of if but when. One thing is for sure though, I got out of a relationship with an abusive partner and would never let anyone hit me today. I would never compromise things that were important to me, puppet children included. Sometimes you have to walk through hell to get to the other side, and the gift of a rock bottom is it forces you to take action. However, the only way out of that hell is to take action and to keep going.

I am doing a book signing at a MAC award winning venue it looks like, releasing a DVD, work as a talking head for a sports app, and am getting ready to do a theatre in two weekends. What does April of the past think of that? Eh, she still can't believe it. First she has to take care of her mascara.

Love 

April

www.aprilbrucker.com

Come see me at the Soluna Theatre, May 30-31 Happague, Long Island

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

Check out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon

What Is Love (Howard Jones)

I had a deep conversation with a fellow comedian online last night. This dude has had a hell of a year. I would tell you but it means putting his personal business out for the world to see and he is not in a place where that would be good let alone helpful for him. Anyway, we were discussing relationships and such via facebook chat where all good things happen. And then the subject of love came up.

I don’t believe in love. I don’t think it is possible. I think that humans should just be polyamorous creatures. It’s hard to be loyal so why should we do it? Love always fades in the end. People always disappoint us. Sex cheapens everything. Just have open relationships and then the cheating factor is out the window.

The dude surprised me by saying he felt like he needed to watch a Disney Movie after hanging out with me. He said that if it weren’t for love life wouldn’t be worth it. Either this was a line to totally bait me, or he is that much of a sucker. I teased him and told him to stop acting like such a damn woman. I couldn’t tell what he was going for, Emo or Shakespeare. Either way, it made me think. Maybe I am too cynical.

I thought of the two men I almost married. The psychotic fiancé and I were so intense I thought it was love. It was really two self-centered children who got high off of drama, conflict, and loved the attention it brought them. When the ex stalked me when it ended it was about control, not the fact he still loved me. I also spoke about it Friday when I was interviewed on camera for a documentary. I thought if I gave up my ventriloquism for someone who was emotionally and physically abusive he would change. Instead it was a testament to my low self-worth, and that is what scares me the most to look at. That I played a role.

The second time he had pretty outsides like a nice job and he could have given me a nice life. I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to live happily ever after. I was happy he didn’t call me a bitch, hit me, and thrilled he had a job. He said he loved me but I never believed him. Maybe it’s because I knew I wasn’t being honest. He spent lots of money on me. I treated him like crap though. Then I found out he had a lying problem. It served me right. I was so fixated on the externals I didn’t focus on what really mattered.

For the most part these days I am happily single. I don’t even think of love. My friends in relationships all seemingly want to jump into traffic. And when they don’t whine about the fact their lover snores or whatever, they are forced to give up their dreams to be baby making machines from hell. And are they happy? I don’t know. They say they are but then they tell me how they wish they had my life. I am broke a lot of the time. I do my own home repairs. I sleep alone. As a result I follow my dreams and am starting to have an inkling of a career. That is why it pisses me off when my coupled friends and rels try to fix me up, as if I am some sad, bizarre charity case.

On the other hand, sometimes I see couples walking hand and hand. Sometimes I just want someone to hold me, tell me it is alright just like the womanizing friend in Wedding Crashers. As I get older too I wonder if I will die alone. It’s weird. Sometimes I just want someone. I want to believe love exits.

Then when I get a boyfriend I want to strangle him for being human. I want to yell at him for not being perfect. I berate him for not saying the right thing or getting my script in the mail. And then I get bored when I realize he has needs and can’t always be about me. Oh and I will end up hating his friends. And then if he snores I hate him more. Then I want to smother him with the pillow. As I look around my room and see my costumes and puppets I think I am better off with them.

Love

April

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

www.aprilbrucker.com

www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr 

This Girl is on Fire (Alicia Keys)

I have been feeling a lot lately. The career is amazing, almost as if God Himself/Herself/Itsself ascended and gifted it to me. However I am having some deja vu and not in a good way. I have written about this a lot. When I was twenty one I found myself in a relationship with someone who was the textbook definition of a psychopath. He lacked empathy of any sort. Not to mention was verbally, physically, and emotionally abusive. During the course of the relationship I found my safety and well being threatened on several occasions. Not to mention he put everything I did down.

 I wasn't funny according to him, so I started dropping the ball with comedy. I couldn't act according to him, so I began to explore other career paths. Yes, they made me unhappy but it meant I was supporting him. Oh and his friends thought the ventriloquism was stupid and creepy so I gave that up too. He said me or the puppets. I chose him. My ex had been like Prince Charming when we met. It was flowers. It was presents from wherever he could pick them up off the street. Then one day I set him off and blamo. Suddenly this monster reared it's head. We fought. We made up. He promised to change. He never did for very long though. My ex tried to kill himself in front of me not once but twice. Instead of running away I felt sorry for him, and told myself if I stayed maybe he would get help and change. My ex threatened to kill his mother in order to get the insurance money to be with me. Instead of running I tried to get him to do things like get a job, but that never lasted for more than three days. My ex also choked me on one occasion and I nearly blacked out. I arrived to class with strangle marks around my neck and a bullshit story because he promised never to do it again. The list goes on.....

In the end, I can list all the shit things he did to me but I let him. I kept staying hoping it would change. In the end I picked him though. He never made a secret of the fact he was anti-social personality or borderline textbook definition. My ex got a psych discharge from the Navy and from what I gather he may have punched a commanding officer. Truth is, as I said, I picked him. I choose him. Maybe it was being young and stupid, hoping love could fix everything. Maybe it was lack of self-esteem and just wanting a boyfriend. I was all too willing to overlook everything because I was tired of being alone. Even when he shoved it in my face that the only reason I got into NYU was because my parents were "rich" and my dad was a lawyer. I let my whole disaster of a relationship happen, even when he isolated me from my friends and tried to take me away from my family. For as close as I am to my mother, I never let her know what was going on.

When things ended, I had a bunch of bad memories and a different mailing address as not to be found. I did things I thought would make it better. I drank too much and then some. I engaged in other stupid behaviors. I didnt eat cause why? Of course there were the diet pills that made me peppy as shit. I dated ex cons because nice guys were either scared of the fact my ex was totally nuts, or were turned off by the fact I was insane. The ex cons treated me well but they came with complications. Things were crazy, things were wild, but there was no way in hell anyone was ever gonna put a cattle brand on me again.

Then things got bad and I kind of cleaned up my act a tad. I began to talk about my ex in my act. The bits killed. I got on TV some. I wrote a book. I established a hell of a career after living through hell. I was doing okay, right? Not to mention my puppet babies and I became reunited.

Around the time my puppet children and I got on TLC, they highlighted that my ex made me choose between me and my puppets. It was the way it was edited I guess. In interviews I was honest, by ex was sick. I got fan letters from people telling me I made the right decision. When I opened up in interviews, I got fan letters from young women who told me how they had an ex who was similar. Suddenly it occurred to me I had a bigger function, to end dating violence and above all things to end bullying.

I remember one reporter for a magazine in London asked me if I had any photos of me and my ex. I said, "No, he used to hit me. I burned them."

I remember there was a dead silence on the phone ass he whispered, "Sorry." It was almost as if she felt like she put her foot in her mouth by asking. Wasnt her fault though, how was she supposed to know there was more to the story without asking questions?

In my weekly webcasts I would share about my experience as someone who was bullied and someone who had come out of an abusive relationship. My followers rallied around me and I got the sense I was helping people which was cool. I came down like white rice on a paper plate in a snow storm when it came to men who kicked and slapped women around. In a lot of ways I fancied myself a feminine avenger of sorts. My mother had issues with this identity, but I was choosing the activist route by making myself as visible as possible. It was my way of letting young people know they deserved to be treated well regardless of class, gender, sexual orientation, etc. Again, I was okay, right?

A year ago I exploded online in a way I never imagined I would. It was around the Daniel Tosh time. To make a long story short, I found myself fighting online. The people I was fighting with werent enemies or people who hated me, but rather my own friends who were in my corner telling me to get a life. I remember appearing on a friend's radio show where a female caller told me if shit bothered me that much to just change the TV channel or to not purchase his album. She had also mentioned she had been raped once upon a time and was familiar with the angst I was feeling. The truth was, I was far from okay. In my quest to make the world a better place I knew there was a time to scream and shout. Also, there was a time to walk away, but also a time to laugh.

What had happened was in my quest not to be a victim, I had become rather fluent in victimese. In my journey not to make excuses for myself, I had bought into the philosophy of excusology. I was becoming everything I hated when it came to women's rights activist. I have never been a whiner and hate that brand of activism because it paints women as not having a role in their own lives, but rather pawns of a male society. However, I had comfortably set up my tent there.

Around that time I got the opportunity to participate in a campaign about dating violence The campaign was going to have me with two black eyes and other scratch marks on my arms. I remember being repulsed at the thought. This was not the message I wanted to send to young women at all. I remember talking to my mom around that time and she said, "Well he never hit you, right?" And thats when I told her the truth. My mom, who was only known bits and pieces of why her daughter became an angry lunatic around that time said, "I will kill him. If I ever see him, I will kill him." During this phase it began to occur to me the way to make a difference was not to pronounce this identity in an aggressive sense but rather to keep doing well with my life.

That is when I got the fire under my ass to publish my book. Since then I have recorded my audiobook. Oh and my book is a part of the collection at Brown, NYU, and Mensa said it was a Must Read. Britney Spears also plugged me on her website. Huffington Post let me write a piece. Fans write me and want me and my puppets to make videos about them. You know the scoop. The best revenge is to live well.

The ex has also reached out several times in order to make amends, which leads me to believe he is part of a Twelve Step or Group Therapy Program of some sort. Getting the amends has made me less angry about that part in my life. It has also made me accept my part in the scheme of things, whether it was staying or picking fights in order to get a leg up myself. It has also made it easier for me to trust people. I thought about writing him back but my mom said it best, "April, your ex is someone who cannot respect you as a person, and he has shown you who he is. You are a fool to ever speak to him again." My mom was right and everyone around me has echoed the same sentiment. He cannot respect boundaries and has too many issues. I took the healthy step of blocking him. While I did that, at the same time I forgive him. He had a hellacious childhood and didnt know any better. Maybe he has found a Higher Power who is guiding him, giving him relief against his demons. I can only hope and pray God protects others from his anger, but most importantly, God protects him from himself.

In a lot of ways I am grateful I walked this path. Not only did I get my proverbial shit together, but I have served as a guide to others it will be okay. I also know it's alright to be alone, and never at any time do I have to tolerate bullying or harassment from anyone, male or female. I am confident and can stand on my own and dont need anyone to pay my way. Sometimes I am so strong I surprise myself. Then I retreat to my crying corner with my cookie dough like any woman in New York. Okay, I had to put a joke in cause this piece is a little heavy.

At the same time, Rambo is my dream man because we have a lot in common. One is that we live in a world that is not always tailor made for us. People don't always understand what it's like to come out of hell. When I used to explain to people what I had been through I would always get the "Get over it." Or better yet, "Why do you keep provoking your ex?" Yes, I asked to be used as a punching bag! Of course there are the occasions when I want to knock the fucking grill out of Lil Wayne's mouth, or go to the after life and kick Tupac where he really thinks. For the record I wouldn't be a woman, I would be a "bitch" on that occasion. And sometimes I wish like Rambo my dream man I came equipped with a flame thrower and could just torch every half naked Billboard of a woman and every strip club that marginalizes my gender. Or there are those times I have just screamed my head off at some asshole male who pushes me around because I am a woman, and not that big. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs because this all opens a door and gives men the thumbs up that women are meant to be used, abused, and treated as chattel.

On the flipside, I never get what I want when I go that route. With the rappers, it is all an act. I have a lot of rapper friends as a matter of fact. Plus if I yell and scream it gives Lil Wayne and his woman hating grill more publicity. While Tupac used the term bitch loosely, he also campaigned relentlessly for women. Strip clubs kept me employed as a publicity person once upon a time, and at the root of it they aren't evil people either. The world won't change because I have a bad day. The world won't change because I have issues. It will keep spinning and I have to learn to work with it which means I have to accept it. Yes, whether it is the gender marginalization I feel as a comedian and writer or in general. If I let it upset me too much I just get really angry, explode, and end up making an ass of myself.

However, I can make a change. I can be successful despite the fact comedy favors undeserving, good looking pretty boys from time to time. I can say my talent got me in the door and have staying power as their testosterone driven brand of basement humor dies. I can be grateful I came out of a bad phase of my life, and live every day to it's fullest. I can enjoy my friends and have an open, honest dialogue with my family. I can treat those around me with dignity and respect regardless of who they are. I can share my experience, strength and hope when the door opens for me to do so, making me visible to others who need to see/hear me. I can also speak on behalf of women's rights and vote according at the poles. Most importantly, I can know in my heart I deserve not only to be happy but to be treated well. Oh and I can keep my sanity without looking like a damn fool.

The other day I was on the train when two idiots who were seventeen were talking and referred to a girl they wanted to "bone" as a "thorough bread." There was a part of me that wanted to smack these two assholes to whatever shithole they came from and whatever thing bore them. Then I stopped myself. While I am tiny and it would have been funny as hell, these two morons were not worth a felony charge. Plus the tombs are not air conditioned in the summer. Plus if they spoke this way about women, one of two things was going to happen:

1. Some girl there own age would slap them. That is after they took her to McDonalds and made her pay.

2. They probably had no women and their only hope for love was living on their right hand and her name was Palmala Han Solo. She's Thai I suppose.

So yeah, I just have to keep moving and can't let the past cripple me. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is the present because it is a gift.

xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center

When I Was Your Man (Bruno Mars)

I was with my baby sister this past weekend and yes she now has a love life. Skipper has grown up so quickly. It is weird. I actually like her boyfriend believe it or not. I only threatened to kill him twice if he didn't treat my sister right. He was a good sport about it, and if my sister ends up closing the story book and living happily ever after with this guy it would be far from the worst thing ever. Believe it or not I left the trip liking him and not wanting to kill him. Skipper seems happy.

I had the forever talk with my sister. There is still a lot to think about before Skipper says forever. One is where she will match. The other is, the relationship is still in it's infancy. Their dark sides haven't come out yet and clashed.

I ended up having a deep talk with Skipper. Basically I told her that if this guy turned out to be a good guy to hold on to him. If not let him go. I told my sister that a terrible relationship could damage her forever and once you were damaged goods with a few severe dents you would never be what you once were. And at the same time don't be hasty and let someone go and then look back and regret it. I know, projecting my shit onto my own baby sister. I get it.

I remembered being twenty one and somehow becoming engaged to perhaps one of the biggest psychopaths I have met to date. At the beginning it was great. Then suddenly he was telling me my comedy sucked. Then he told me it was him or the puppets. After that the fights got violent. I remember even between him offering to kill his mother to get the insurance money to be with me I wanted to stay. When I ended it he stalked me and had his old girlfriends threaten me as well. I got a different mailing address and the memories still give me nightmares. You thought I would have been eager for a nice guy after that?

Hell no.

I dated bottom feeders because I felt like that was all I was worth. They didn't want to take me seriously and they didn't mind my ex was stalking me. The worse they treated me the more I wanted them.

There were some nice guys who came along and wanted to treat me well. One in particular really liked me. But the nicer he was to me the bitchier I was back. Some of it was that I was going through some intense shit at the time, an ex who was trying to kill himself at least once a week to get my attention. Some of it was that I didn't know how to be treated right. Needless to say the clusterfuck ended badly and if he saw me somewhere he would run. I heard he got married and is happy. I am glad he is happy, and frankly I feel bad I couldn't be the one to give it to him.

Then there was another one who would have given me the planet and I just wanted to give him grief. He lost my number and found the number of some girl who was nice and now they are engaged. I saw them and it made me want to stick a knife in my head, especially since I blew him off for a guy who had legal issues at the time.

Of course there was one who I was extremely mean to. He really cared about me and the only thing I cared about was getting under his skin. The closer he got the more I wanted to kick him. The nicer the things he did the more I retaliated. Not to mention when he told me he loved me I started cheating on him. Bitch was an understatement. I embarrassed him in public with my antics, called him names, and left him no choice but to call it over. He has a new girlfriend who hates my guts because I was so mean to him. His family hates me because I was so mean. Granted, my ex-fiance was posting scantily clad photos of me with the word slut on them in every online forum he could. But my then boyfriend was a really good sport about my stalker calling and hanging up whenever we were together.

I know this nuttiness, the jealousy, the outright bitch was the result of an abusive relationship and stalker ex. There was only one who could get past that and well, he was a bipolar who wouldnt comply with his psych meds and a drug addict and I had to let him go. He could handle my bitch and that made him special. It was because he could see the shitoeous behavior wasn't the result of a horrid attitude but because I was a damaged person. He knew how not to take it seriously in a way no other guy had. But alas, he was more damaged than I was.

Maybe I can't get a nice guy because I can't be nice. I know that. Plus I know when I go down my list of losers starting with the stalker ex who tried to kill himself in front of me twice I am not exactly what you take home to mom. And then it might get awkward when I realize I dated his dad at one point which has happened to me by the way. Some would say this is colorful. That is one way to describe it. Others would just call me an asshole and a goof ball.

But I just think of all those guys I used to jerk around and think of all the things I shouldn't have said and all the ways I should have behaved. And how they are all happy and it is too late for us. While I am sure my sister's judgement is better once you are a pickle you can never be a cucumber again. I know full well what it is like in life having to travel with a past where your psyche is scarred from an abusive psycho and all the things that follow taking it out on anyone and everyone you encounter in the wide world of dating. And how all your anger and grief just isolates you to the point where when you exit hell all you see is burnt ash and rubble.

Then I think of that line in As Good as it Gets. Jack Nicholson, a Duke in the Kingdom of the Damaged sums it up best, "Some people are on a hill, having a picnic, eating noodle salad. Just no one in this car."

To come to think of it I don't like noodle salad anyway. Plus this experience helps me speak to young women who write to me. Perhaps God never gives us more than we can handle, and this was the catalyst to help me get it together and get my dreams in motion never to let anyone take me down. Either way, I sometimes wish I wasn't so mean to some of the guys in my past.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
ebook on Kindle and Nook
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN

Ms. Wannabe

Well I had some shade thrown at me yesterday by a hater. Yes, a hater. A current girlfriend of an ex of mine is a lil obsessed with what this Superfoxxx is cooking in her kitchen. The long and the short of it was, a while back I dated this dude with a lying problem. It didn't end well cause it never does with liars. Needless to say, we went our different ways-thank the freak God. Anyway, he hooks up with this girl who I sort of know but not really. She seemed nice when I met her although she smoked a lot of pot, but pot heads are typically wasted space in the world of drug addicts. My buddy Chacho used to say he detested pot heads because of their smell and because they would never do him sexual favors when they couldn't pay for their drugs. But it was a way to deal to the white kids. I digress.

Anyway, this chick was a wannabe everything. For a minute she was a wannabe comedian. She went to a second rate conservatory and is a wannabe singer and actress. And she used to be a wannabe model before she gained a ton of weight. She is one of those bitches who has no mirror. She smokes pot, gets the munchies, and packs on the pounds. But she still dresses like a skinny bitch when she is a fat bitch.

I had no problem with her until she started throwing shade. I had no idea she was even dating my loser ex. Well it all started Valentine's Day 2010 when I was doing a show at a place that she worked. My posters mysteriously disappeared. One night they were ripped down. As a result no one came to my show. Needless to say I didnt put two and two together. At this point I still liked her because I had no issue with her actually. I saw her and that she had dyed her hair some putrid color like she always did and said hi. I commented on her hair and lied that I liked it when really it looked so bad she should have just shaved it off. Well instead of chit chatting like she normally did this girl couldnt look me in the eye and ran away from me as if I told her I had a gun. I was like, what did I do to this girl? I felt bad actually. Had I did/said something? The whole thing was odd. Then I heard her being reamed out by someone else for her low blow tactics and how "a person isnt worth your energy like that and I really do want you to succeed."

WTF.....And by the way three more of my posters disappeared.

Well six weeks later a then friend showed me my ex's profile and I saw that he and Ms. Wannabe were dating. My mouth dropped open. No wonder the bitch hadnt wanted to look me in the eye. She was the one ripping down my fucking posters! I was beyond livid and called a friend of mine screaming my head off. He said I had no proof but I knew. And then friends of mine told me to calm down but I knew she did. Who else would have had motive?

Then around the time this crap started happening I went to that club to visit because I had something to do and saw Ms. Wannabe and she gave me the big hello. Well she is a big girl and could have been a lumberjack in a previous life. She picked me up and gave me a hug. I was like, "Why are you trying to be my friend?" Basically, she was overkill. I knew she fucked with my posters so I began to talk about a guy I used to date in Queens to make it awkward and get under her skin. I shouldnt have played so low but it was fun to dig it in that her boyfriend was so in love with me at one point. And I also mentioned I cheated on him the entire time, news I knew that would get back to him and would make him freak out and ruin both their nights.

Then the next time she saw me was even freakier. I had just been on television a bunch and had just made a slew of friendemies. When I saw her she dyed her hair my color blonde. She also wore an outfit designed for a more petite, skinny girl. Not someone almost six feet tall and packing on the pounds. The lipstick shade was close to mine. One of my friends remarked all she needed was a puppet and she could be a giant April Brucker. Well I ended up talking to this chick because it appeared she wanted to make peace. Whatever. Life is too short to be mad, plus she was mentally ill clearly. Well she starts quizzing me about my ex and asking why guys have such an issue when you have a past. And then she told me the only way she tolerates being with him is by drinking and smoking pot and popping pills.

The experience freaked me out.

A few weeks later I was fired from said club anyway. And when I was fired and found out on the internet there was a rumor that I was drinking and partying hard and that's why I got fired. It came from the regulars at the club, a circle that Ms. Wannabe is a part of. After that I started making videos. And when I started making videos guess who started making videos? When I started putting music on the radio guess who starts singing again? This all was too weird for me. So weird that when I told my friend Marcus about it he encouraged me to write a rap song about this weird ass bitch. Did I mention she dissed me on several gossip sites as well? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VVnNNUvXSQ

Well after a while this chick sort of cooled off. I think it's because she and my ex moved in and as long as she wasn't bothering me I didn't care. Like the rest of the world she was my facebook friend, too. I mean, plus he was just a guy. He didn't mean that much to me. I figure the loss of a man is nothing compared to the loss I felt for Chacho and Joe, and my heart still aches that Joe isn't here to enjoy my book. Compared to the hole in my heart that left some guy is just a guy and they can be replaced.

I saw she was doing stuff a few times that didn't involve stalking me and actually congratulated her. I mean, she had a life, why not? Plus my ex and his crew like to play games and they found someone feeble enough to feed in, and I can tell you from experience that they capitalize on a person's weakness and exploit it to no end. A few days ago we accidentally crossed paths on a thread and even agreed. I didn't mind. I mean, my ex is just a man. They have the same set of equipment and have the same tricks.

Well yesterday for some reason some link brought me to Ms. Wannabe's page. My ex's mother is insane and tries to cozy up to all of his girlfriends. To give you a background on Mrs. Sicko she is deeply involved in Al-Anon, a twelve step program, and takes pride in almost shooting her alcoholic husband. Everyone in the family is in therapy or on psych meds, and she used to write me detailed letters saying God commanded her to write to me and that her son was in fact my soul mate. Well those two were trashing me!

The exchange went as follows:

Mrs. Sicko: Thank you for sending the New Year's greetings. Is April painfully aware that she is not funny? Seriously, she is not funny.

Ms. Wannabe: I was not planning to run into her on facebook. But sadly I don't think she is aware.

Part of me was like, WHAT? That was just mean and hurtful. I was nice to this girl and all she ever did was harass me and rip down my posters! I did nothing to her.

But then I had to look at the big picture. I have published a book, am recording my book on tape, have been on television a bunch, had a hit song on the internet and am working on a musical. Not to mention as of yesterday I am now working with Jeff Dunham's puppet maker. Did I mention I went to NYU, trained at Strasberg, and worked with some of my idols who even went so far as to speak very highly of me?

This girl is not only eating my sloppy seconds, but her biggest claim to fame is extra work. Not to mention I record original music and she can only do covers. I get to go to events and meet people that she can only watch from her TV, where she can also watch herself being an extra and watch me being a featured person on shows. Oh and she went to a second rate drama program that is ridiculed in most circles.

I thought about making a bitchy video but instead I figured I would do what my friend Joe suggested I do with this bitch when he was alive, live a better life and tune her the hell out.

And when I see her in my travels I will take a page from my friend Chacho. I will ask, "Do I know you?" That will kill her, my stupid ex, and his even stupider mother. Oh, did I mention she has gained more weight and I am close to a six pack?

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available as an ebook on Amazon Kindle
Available as an ebook on Nook and as a hardback on BarnesandNoble.com

Husband, Babies, and a Fireplace

I am a career woman. To someone like myself Hillary Clinton is a hero. While she is in the Oval Office and I am trying to break into entertainment, we both basically put our professional lives first and personal-what is that? Husband, well hers was fooling around and she was too busy running the country to notice. And then she probably stood by her man because she was too busy to leave. Where was she going to go? Divorce takes time and she had a health care system to clean up. I digress.

Anyway, I haven’t had a guy in sometime. Between writing and publishing a book, promoting that book, recording the audio version of that book and writing the musical version of the book I really haven’t given a guy a second thought. That is, until I was interviewed by a local magazine in my hometown where the guy asked, “Do you want a husband or kids in the future?”

The question threw me for a loop. The answer is I really don’t know.

Honest to God I didn’t know. In middle school I wasn’t allowed to date. My parents emphasized academics, goals, and achievement. My father was the first to get not only a college degree but an MBA and a law degree in a working class family, and both my mom’s parents were educated. My dad was a professor and my mom was a teacher. Television was not allowed until Friday so boys were out of the question completely. As a matter of fact some folks even thought I was gay because the story that April couldn’t date boys turned into April couldn’t talk to boys. But I had my puppets and my tablet with my thoughts. Better than any of the zit faced guys in my junior high class. Sure I had crushes, who didn’t. Still, they were a world away.

High school was more chasing my goals. When I wasn’t busting my behind in school I was taping shows at the cable access station, performing ventriloquism somewhere, writing a column for the local paper, going to a play practice, attending an acting or voice class, and then to support it all I bagged groceries at the local supermarket on the weekends. My dream schools were Smith College, Mount Holyoke, Brown University, New York University, Emerson College, and Carnegie Mellon University and perhaps Julliard. There was no time for a guy in my star chasing.  There was no time for anything that wasn’t getting me ahead. And the three guys I did like in high school all made it clear they didn’t return the favor. But the help with analyzing the Emily Dickinson, oh they gladly took that.

College was an adventure. My first year I was a miss all around. One guy invited me to his room to watch TV. The next thing I know he was all over me. Apparently watch television is code for lets have sex. I so didn’t know that. We didn’t have sex and he felt bad I was in the dark. Later we became good friends and joked about the incident. Still, that wasn’t a high point in my life.

The few guys I liked seriously rejected me in a pretty low way. One in particular was a favorite at an NYU extension and famous acting studio I was later asked to leave. This young lad was tall, dark, and handsome and slated to have quite the career. I, on the other hand, was being told that I wouldn’t. Well tall, dark, and handsome found out about my puppets and we connected. He assured me he had the same struggles and came out swinging. All the girls liked him. Well he used to seek me out to speak to me and even invited me to some theatre party but I was busy or something. Well one day I was taking a stress walk after writing a paper and saw him when it started to drizzle. I was wondering aimlessly, he was walking home. I ended up walking with him in my meandering. Once we got to his dorm he suddenly turned acting as if I was the unwanted overweight companion-I was in those days-rather than the pleasant surprise in the hood. After crying on the way home, risking pneumonia, and then showering I wrote him off and gave him the cold shoulder everytime I saw him.

The fucker capitalized on his short time with me by twisting the story on Gawker-not bad for someone slated to not have a career- about how I followed him home once and it was the most terrifying thing ever. Sir, you wish I were stalking you. Because unfortunately the bitter teachers who were jealous I had a shot and they didn't were wrong. You never had that acting career and never will. Trashing me on Gawker is the closest you will ever get to that career. Now tell me, how does it feel to know you peaked at twenty?

Sophomore year I had my heart broken by a few guys who were just shallow. But I was in a new studio extension and finding success there. Plus I found standup comedy and that took up most of my nights. There could be no man. There could only be Lee Strasberg. I simply had crushes on set up, premise, and punchline. May Wilson got all the action.

Junior year I found myself engaged to a much older man who was intimidated by the fact I was smarter than him and going places. His friends-stupider than he was-said things. First he told me what I could and couldn’t wear. Then he told me how I could and couldn’t dress. Next it was him or the puppets. I gave up my children for six months. The worst mistake of my life. Next he wanted to kill his mother so he could get the insurance money to be with me.

They left that part of the story out on TV.

 Same with the stalking and threatening. My mom hates when I talk about it, but I need to so women in the same situation can know that it will be fine. Plus I was lucky. He only talked about killing me. Yeardley Love probably wishes she could take my place. She probably wishes a separate mailing address was the least of her problems. This Sir Lancelot pops up to “make amends” everytime things go well in my life. Meanwhile he and whatever piece of trash with low self esteem he is stringing on goes on some message board to talk trash. Who would have known with all of his sleazing and sleeping with his stripper ex for money, I would be the ex his new girlfriends would all be jealous of? My ex also took credit for writing my act and my jokes. Watch him take credit for my book next, assweed. 

After that I dated a string of forgettables, one being a lawyer who couldn’t stop lying. Many being ex-cons who could at least tell the truth about the crimes they were committing. Some were nice, but my love of my career and my busy schedule always made things fizzle out. All were fun runs in the sun but nothing more.

Then my friend Chacho passed and I wanted to do everything I could do to make my life and career complete. I thought of all the things Chacho would want for me. Chacho wouldn’t want me to date losers, he had done that and it is what put him in an early grave. He would want me to pour that energy into being a superstar and hanging out with the most fancy people in the world. Chacho would want me to put that energy into nice clothes. Chacho would want me to live big. Well I did. I cut men out entirely, especially when the television time started rolling in. Needless to say, after a bunch of events the schedule became very full. I had no time for a man but ironically had a lot of male admirers. Male admirers who loved me and my puppet children. Maybe a guy could like me for being me.

And there was one who did. Yes, he did. I have blogged about him and gave him a fake name to protect him because I know he was in trouble somewhere. The truth is, he liked me for being me. No guy ever did. Unfortunately he was sick-bipolar he was not taking his meds for and abusing drugs instead. I had to let him go. Not because I wanted to, I had to. He didn’t want to take his meds and he didn’t want to get help. Sometimes I think that if he were to show up at my door clean, sober, and appropriately medicated I would take him back. But that probably won’t happen. Maybe that says a lot about the God I believe in. But unfortunately it’s reality.

I dated a former reality star and washed up comedian who I thought liked me but was just using my visibility to revive his dead career.

There is a part of me that knows I am damaged. I know I am scarred and have a hard time trusting guys. Actually, most of the time they are guilty in April’s Court ruled by the iron fist of Roman Law. I always assume they are cheating and sleazing around-in my mind. Not to mention I never tell them about my career because I am scared they will make me give it up and have their children. I am scared I will have to give up my whole life I worked for. And wait until they see some of the photos I take and the letters male fans write me. Then I know it’s over. Not to mention I am a lousy cook and clean as frequently as the Jets win because I am so busy with my career.

Translated, my relationships end badly for a reason. I could never make a guy happy, and a lot of it is my fault. At least I know that though, right? Apparently men don’t like it when you try to make them puppets.

On the flipside someday it might be nice to have someone to spend forever with. A special someone to have that big wedding with. A special someone to honeymoon with on some tropical island. A special someone to have children and grow old with. A special someone who watches football, snores, rakes leaves, and shovels snow. A special someone who even when I want to kill him makes me laugh a second later and I forget about my grudge. A special someone who lets me know the world isn’t a big, bad, dark, hole waiting to gobble me up.

It might be nice to have kids someday. Kids who are babies that I can dress in adorable outfits. Kids who don’t color in the lines and finger paint to the point that it gets on them. Kids who play Pee Wee football, Pee Wee soccer, Pee Wee dance and whatever other Pee Wee thing there might be to do aside from going to that perve’s playhouse. Kids that do spelling words, even if I have to force them before school. Kids who make me laugh with their explanations and schemes of why they did something. Kids who sparkle and make me smile. Kids who know they have puppet brothers and sisters and as a result can put up with anyone’s differences.

But both the husband and kids are fictional. They don’t speak in these dreams. Plus if they were real they would have to compete with my closet of costumes and room full of eleven puppets. My schedule is busy so they would be fending for themselves in the kitchen and doing all the laundry. And something tells me they would not understand being stashed under the bed when space was tight.

Oops, they aren’t puppets.

I guess for now it is my apartment that looks like a war zone, my puppets, my comedy, my video making, my book writing, my singing telegrams and my music that occasionally gets on the radio.

This week a guy took my number and he has been lukewarm basically letting me know he isn’t that into me. Sigh, just like high school. Now off to my guy free life of a bubble bath and trash romance novel. The guys in those books are what women want. Those fictional men can be into me if I make them into puppets. I better stop while I am ahead. I sound crazy. I can picture one of them writing in the next time I am written up in the Gawker. He can say I forced him into a bubble bath after a rain storm. 

Love 

April

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

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www.buybooksontheweb.com

Available on Amazon as a paperback and ebook

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Triple Negative

The past two days have been negative man days. I don't know what it is but it's like they know where to find me now that my life is somewhat on track. It's weird, the whole negative man thing. Then again, negative men are like cancer, they always spread their disease and attack when you are most vulnerable.

Emotional cancer.

Two days ago I got a text from Holden Caulfield. I hadn't heard from him since he called me high on some substance where he was clearly up for days. Apparently he had been living with some older woman and being her kept man-his dream. Anyway, despite life on the lamb (yes the lamb) Holden would still keep in touch. Part of me does still love him. He is a troubled soul with a good heart. Addiction and bi-polar are a killer combo. Well Holden texts me, his Jane Gallagher, under his Hawaii number to tell me that he has six months clean. There is a part of me that still loves him. Holden was able to just put up with my crap in a way most men were not. Plus there was a part of me that had a heart of ice after a failed engagement. Holden was able to melt that ice. But I had to ask myself if I was ready to deal with the baggage of his six months of sobriety. The continual psych appointments? The getting him on the right meds? His legal troubles which still havent been sorted out and not to mention over 60k in back child support.

I had to ask myself and love was not enough. The answer was no.

Then as I went to get things sorted out with my land lord over my Sandy emergency with my bank I was exiting the office and saw another old male acquaintance. I had known him from that twenty-two year old interesting phase in my life. He had befriended me when things were going crazy in my life. Anyway, I said hi and he started talking and babbling on about how he was working as a waiter. Not to mention he already wanted to take me out for New Years Eve. Where Mr. Waiter, somewhere that we either eat for free or that I foot the bill? It had been a long time since I had seen him and there was something wrong. He smelled funny and looked weird. Then I figured it out. He was drunk! It wasn't even ten in the morning yet! Damn! Wait until you at least hit noon. Sure I felt like I needed my old friend Jack Daniels after the horrible financial errand but I was going to be okay. And I wasn't going to meet my friend. Point is, we all have our moments but the key is not to hit the damn bottle before ten in the damn morning.

I made an excuse and made a bolt for it. I didnt like what I was feeling.

Yesterday morning I woke up and got an email from guess who? My ex fiance. In my grief over the anni of my buddy Chacho's passing I made the decision to unblock my whole blocked list. It was grief and stress that had mutated. Not to mention being shut in my damn apartment. I glanced at the pages of everyone on my unblocked list, ex included. Sure enough he and some angry woman were talking and he was saying I had problems. Nevermind the fact he was emotionally abusive, physically abusive, and verbally abusive. Just edit the story if you will to edit out the fact I have a different mailing address. Well the ex writes me to say that as long as I keep unblocking him he is going to keep writing to apologize to me. Part of me is glad he's sorry but I know it's insincere. Plus it's funny this comes after my many TV appearances, release of book, and other good fortune. But alas, he will never be a safe contact. So I reblocked him and he is blocked forever. My ex is sick. When we broke up I tried to be his friend, and when I began seeing other men he began stalking and harassing me.

Plus Chacho would have never wanted me to grieve. Mascara, unless water proof, is not meant to be worn during crying. And in the words of Chacho, "One of the big reasons you have a boyfriend is because they are supposed to get you presents."

Either way, my triple negative is out of the way and I told them all no. They say God tests you, but a woman who is like a spiritual adviser to me says the devil is the one who does the testing. Well the devil tested me three times and I passed. Perhaps he can go bother a different woman, one who apparently loves jerks as much as I do.

I do deserve someone nice. Someone with no drug problems, no criminal record/current troubles with the law, no one that has any mental health issues and a part time job would be fantastic.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book

Memory Lane

This is how asshole men make me feel, ready for blood and ready to kill. 

I was walking along, ready to get some food, after a rather chaotic day. Everything was crazy, and I was already in a hell of a mood. I walked quite a bit to calm my nerves. The crazy thing is, I was starting to feel a little better. After snacking on some mangos I told myself it was time to get some real food. I was on my way to do so, when I walk into a shop and there are a guy and a girl. The guy is real good looking and the girl is as mousy as hell.

This is how the exchange went.

Guy: Hey good looking, do you want to go to the movies, maybe see Hunger Games and then get some drinks with us?

Me: Me?

Guy: Yeah good looking.

Me: What does your girlfriend right there have to say about this?

Guy: Oh her? She doesn’t matter. She’s fine with it.

Me: Why don’t I ask her?

Girl: Me, I’m not fine with it. I didn’t say anything.

Me: You are a real asshole. And I hope she wises up and dumps you. Go get fucked. Stay the fuck away from me. The next time I see you I hope to stab you.

If stabbing you meant getting a glamorized mug shot, this would be it. 

I walked away and as I did I could hear his mousy girlfriend get her voice and start yelling at him. The whole thing was just an ugly flashback to my time with my ex fiancé. I remember one time I was out with him and his friends and a girl arrived. Later I found out that this girl, who actually turned out to be quite nice, had slept with my ex back in the day. My ex, seeing that his former flame got implants, told me to ask who her surgeon was because I could “benefit.”

Later I found out this SOB was sleeping with an old girlfriend who gave him money. In between that, I found out he was messaging other women online, remarking on their photos and suggesting they get together because I was “boring.” At the end of my rope, I remember my ex was dating a stripper before me. He sought her out for a romantic weekend. She rebuffed him and said, “It would be disrespectful to April. No.”

So when I see crap like that I view it as more than disrespectful, I view it as fucking vile. I view it as someone who needs his ass beat. I know that it feels like a knife has been put to this girl’s heart and she is kicked around. I know how it feels to have the self-esteem of a doormat.

I know how it feels to be on the other side. I know how it feels to be with an asshole who gets his jollies off of making you feel less than, feeling he asserting his masculinity. After all, I almost married mine. This is why I feel my activism and work with young women is so important. It makes these ladies feel that they are worthwhile, letting them know that anyone who treats them like junk has no place in their lives.

On the other hand, I know that this girl has to grow a pair and let this guy go. However, I won’t lie. It was hard not to stab him with the sharpest object. It was hard not to kill him in broad day light. It was hard not to rid the world of scum that it would be better without.

I look innocent, ready to use and abuse in the eyes of some. Do not be fooled, the bottom of this rose is a metal shank, ready to pierce your jugular. 

There are people who will call me angry. They will call me a bitter man-hater because I see something wrong with this exchange. They will make me and any decent woman apologize for the fact that we don’t come with a Laura Croft leather suit, a pole, and Lucite shoes. But I have to speak up. I have to speak out. I have to be a voice for women, because such a voice doesn’t exist.

Instead of murdering a man, which hell this one deserves to have something bad happen to him, I will take a bath. Ted Hughes was responsible for the end of Sylvia Plath. His dicking around made her kill herself. He got cancer and angry lesbians scraping Hughes off of her tombstone that read Sylvia Plath Hughes. Sylvia also go acclaim. We know the Colossus, we know the Bell Jar. We know nothing that he has done.

Maybe I am so angry not because I know how much it hurts. I also know how damaged you are when you leave that relationship. I also know my mother can’t bring his name up because I just get angry. We both get angry. I also know it is hard as hell to trust again, and once you are damaged you are always sort of damaged.

On the flipside I also know guys like that don’t speak for all men. My father is very good to my mom, and my brother would never dream of treating his wife that way ever. Same with my uncles. My fan boys, if they knew where to find this guy would beat the shit out of him themselves.

The difference is now I don’t act mousy and go off on someone afterward. I don’t submit to bullshit. I am not a victim. I take my hits in the boxing ring, standing like a man. Sure, it makes me scary in the eyes of some men. But those men are cowards. Real men aren’t afraid of a road warrior.

Love

April

I am an angry woman, ready to strike and ready to fight. I am ready to give a voice to women who suffer.

Mama Foxxx's Mail Bag

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I was engaged to this guy a few years ago and we had been together since we were kids. About three weeks before we got married he broke it off and said he wanted to sow his wild oats. Turned out that meant sleeping with my half sister who works as a stripper. Anyway, it’s been three years. I finished college, am currently working as a nurse, just bought a dog but dated a slew of men and never found love. Well guess who messages me on facebook requesting to be friends. I accepted his friend request bcause I still wanted to be friends. We go out to coffee and that’s when he tells me he still loves me, messed things up, tells me how sorry he is and that’s he’s a changed man. Part of me wants him back because I am lonely and haven’t found anyone else who captures my heart. The other half of me isn’t sure. Please advice. Signed RN in need of Heart Mending

Dear RN in Need of Heart Mending,

Maya Angelou once had a profound quote, “When someone shows you who they are believe them.” This man has shown you that he and the truth do not live on the same side of the street. He lied to you about why he couldn’t marry you and then he slept with your stripper half sister. He is a dirty dog who probably has fleas and deserves to sleep alone in the Goddamn dog house for all of eternity. To take him back would not only be more of the same heart ache but probably more now that Sir Lancelot has sewed his wild oats and probably has a funky new disease. What happened was he discovered that no woman was willing to put up with his shit for free and hookers and high class strippers are expensive so he is back with you. Block him on facebook and block that out of your life pronto. You are doing well for yourself. You don’t need someone bringing you down. You are an RN for Godssakes. That means you are surrounded by good looking doctors. WHAT I AM SAYING IS THAT YOU CAN DO BETTER! Start talking to some of them and see where it goes. Find one who’s good looking, nice and rich. I am not saying marry him for his money but at least when he tries to pull a similar scam you can sue for alimony. Just kidding. What I am trying to say is that you are a career woman with a bright future ahead of her. Don’t let this moron’s memory taint your standards on the quest for true love. You settled for a mutt once before and look at what you got. Go for the pure bread. Love Mama Foxxx

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I am nineteen and was seeing this girl about a year ago. She broke up with me because she “needed space.” Well I found out the space she needed was to sleep with a lot of other guys. This hurt me a lot and I went on a week long drinking binge where I flunked several midterms and was put on academic probation. Well now this girl shows up at a party that my friend was having, cornered me, and said that she hoped we could be friends. I don’t want to be mean because she had a bad home life but at the same time she really hurt me. Please advise. Signed Young and Confused.

Dear Young and Confused,

This girl is like toxic waste, dangerous and only hurt you. STAY AWAY. To someone like this a friend is a tampon, they bleed on them until they are soaked in the damage. She will use you and abuse you. This woman already put you in a state to which you were so depressed you went on a week long drinking binge and put your academics and your future at jepordy. I wouldn’t even say hi to someone like that on the street ever! Just as a zebra never changes it’s stripes neither does the phylum of lying bitch. And while we are on the subject I just want to tell you no person is ever, ever worth going on a drinking binge over. This woman’s lying, cheating heart pushed you to the bottle because you let it. Shame on you for giving her that much power. My bet is that manipulative little wench’s under regions have seen as much traffic as Kim Kardashians and she doesn’t have the sexy derriere to match. You are lucky it was just your academics you damage and they let you try again. You could have been seriously injured or hurt because of your wreckless behavior. Alcohol poisoning kills a lot of young people too and is no joke. Remmeber that when you want to be dumb and drink to excess. Maybe this woman was put in your life to make you look at the choices you are making in regards to people, places and things because they suck, because those decisions reflect how we view ourselves. My point being, chose your women a little wiser and when one dumps you don’t drink over her because the odds of you being lucky the next time are not good. And when one shows she isn’t worth your time or energy, just know that her rejection is God’s protection and it sounds like this one did you a favor. You are nineteen, there are lots of women in the world, date one that isn’t a lying ho. Trust me there are plenty. And if she does turn out to be no more free therapy sessions with Jameson. Love Mama Foxxx

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I and twenty years old and broke up with a guy two weeks ago and he is not taking it well. He told me he couldn’t live without me. He showed up to my job twice and my manager told him to leave. To make matters worse he shows up at my house too. He told me that if I didn’t get back with him that he would kill himself. I am terrified of him killing himself and don’t want to feel responsible but at the same time the relationship was not working. I don’t know what to do. Signed, Vulnerable

Dear Vulnerable,

First off I want to tell you I went through something similar and your ex is what is called a stalker. He is a big boy, not a puppet, and you do not pull his strings. His suicide threat is either superficial and a sign of a controlling guy trying to maintain control or evidence of untreated mental illness. I went through the exact same thing with my ex when he tried to kill himself by drinking laundry detergent. Really he should have been taking that detergent and doing my laundry!  Point is, he expected you to fill a void in his life when in reality he needed an extensive team of mental health professionals. This is not the time to be kind. This guy has gone off the deep end. Stalkers are very dangerous and a lot of women die at the hands of psychotic ex lovers. This is not a joke. If he shows up again don’t hesitate to call the police and put the action in motion to get a restraining order. Now is not the time to be kind but to protect yourself. He’s talking about killing himself right now. The next words phrase out of his mouth will be about killing you. Be careful and remember this isn’t someone to be trusted. He is unstable and should be treated with kit gloves. Health, wellness and safety are basic human rights. Protect yourself.  This is life and death and in the end I don’t want him taking your life. You deserve better. Love Mama Foxxx

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I am a thirteen year old guy and live with my mother and two older sister. My father died when I was six and although I am the baby I am still the man of the house. My sister is twenty and she is dating a guy who is a major tool. He has been to jail twice, smokes two packs a day, and doesn’t work. My sister is in college and works one job to support herself and a second to support him. Oh and he has three kids to two different women that he doesn’t support. I know my dad would be disgusted as hell if he were alive and is probably rolling in his grave right now. I want to knock this guy off his block but he is bigger than me. Instead, when he comes over I act like a pest so he will leave. And then I hide his beer so he gets pissed. Once I even slit his tires to teach him to treat my sister right. None of it is working. Help me break them up. Signed, I Hate My Sister’s Asshole Boyfriend

Dear I Hate My Sister’s Asshole Boyfriend,

Wow, this guy is making me roll in my grave and I am still alive. He is Johnny Appleseed, a loser who spreads his sperm and has no other redeeming qualities. I understand you are frustrated and you seem like you have a good heart. Unfortunately you have no control over this and that is what you have to understand. You sister is a big girl, and while you love her for some reason she has chosen this loser and you have to accept that and the sucky thing is, since he is not going away, it looks like you are going to have to get along. Yes he is a retard, we know that. However your well intentioned but red neck inspired system of justice is not the way to go. While I applaud you for the original idea of the loud music the property damage is a misdemeanor and though he is an ex con he still has the right to press charges. Translated, you could find yourself in a hot mess young man and your potential brother in law has friends in the big house. Be careful. And he has been to jail a few times and has no second thought about breaking the law therefore he might have no second thought about shooting your ass. And if he doesn’t shoot your ass or you don’t have to go to court, worse yet, your antics may be driving this demented Romeo and his naïve Juliet closer together and the odds of this moron disappearing lessen. Instead unfortunately you have to wait it out. Trust me, you probably aren’t the only one who has told her what a winner Sir Lancelot is. She has heard it before. Let the relationship be and in the meantime learn to get along with him. In time hopefully your sister will see this degenerate for what he really is and dump him. She is in college, she’s smart, she’s just going through a bad boy phase. When she sees he’s always going to be a loser and she can’t change him like a child and a pair of jeans from last year she will out grow that shit. Trust me, I did, and did I mention I almost married mine? Love April

I am Mama Foxxx, the Mama Foxx and Queen Bee of advice columns and internet talk tv/radio. I am also a puppet mother to ten wonderful puppet children and a growing number of fans whom I call my Poppy Seeds xoxoxoxoxo

Mama Foxx's Mail Bag

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I am a seventeen year old senior in high school. I am the captain of the football and track team as well as an honors student. A lot of my guy friends play sports too. The thing is, they all talk about the girls they are having sex with. I don’t know how these guys are doing it. The worst part is, these guys speak about these women like they are pieces of meat which is ultra disrespectful. I don’t know how they are doing it. The other day they questioned me about my sex life and I told them it was none of their business and they made fun of me. What’s wrong with me? Should I be a bigger pig? How are these guys scoring and I’m not. Help! Signed, Sleeping Alone

Dear Sleeping Alone,

You want to wonder how these guys are getting some? The answer is in their dreams. It’s like fiction, the more a guy brags about who he has sex with the less likely it is happening, unless his girlfriends are named Jill and Palmela. And you are right to have your stomach turn. Young, ignorant, inexperienced guys can be highly disrespectful. And the next time they question you about your sex life and make fun of you tell them, “Well it is none of your business, but since you ask I do date and sleep with real women. Then again, you wouldn’t know about that since you go to Fun World in order to buy your dates.” Needless to say that will shut those young squires up. And the only reason they are doing this anyway is because they want to be Bravo when meanwhile they are more like Beavis and Butthead. Another thing, a guy like you is rare: smart, athletic and wants to treat a girl well. Keep that up Prince Charming and your black book will be breaking the binder while these morons will look on in envy. Love Mama Foxxx

                                                     

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I have seen you on TV and have followed your career and am a fan. You have the courage to be yourself no matter what the hell anyone says which is beautiful. Much like you I am an artist. I write. My stories are bursting out of my notebooks but I am afraid to follow my dream. I want to write more than anything in the world but am afraid of rejection. What do I do? Signed Writer’s Block

Dear Writer’s Block,

Thank you for your sweet letter. It is always an honor and a privilege to hear from fans. My advice to you is for one, keep writing. When one is truly a writer or an artist of any sort they cannot help themselves but they must do or they will wilt up and die. It is important you keep writing. Second, submit for publication. Whether it be a school newspaper, a local gazette or magazine, submit your work. The worst they could do is say no. While rejection is scary it goes with the process of being creative and can make you a stronger person. And from each rejection we learn. I only got the courage to be myself but getting rejected time and time again. The truth is, people will love your work or they might not. The only way to know is to send it out. And if they ultimately reject it ask for feedback. It might just help you become a better writer. Also, see if there are any writing classes or workshops being offered at your school or in your town. That way you can possibly find a mentor in a teacher and meet others with the same goals and fears in order to find support. It takes a special person to be a writer and the journey of an artist is extraordinary. Good luck to you. Love Mama Foxxx

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I am dating the most perfect wonderful girl in the world. She is pretty and smart but the problem is, she comes with a past. When I say past she is twenty years old and has slept with thirty guys. She has been a good girlfriend to me thus far but I have trouble believing she is going to be loyal and every time I am with her I feel like I am competing with every man she ever slept with. What is worse is that sometimes we are out and when she says hi to a guy I worry that they slept together at one point. And my friends make jokes about her being a slut and I always have to defend her. Last week I even punched one out. I love her, I really do. But I don’t know if I can deal with a girl who comes with a past. Help me please! Sloppy Seconds

Dear Sloppy Seconds,

I want to start this letter by saying shame on you! Why is it when a guy sleeps with a lot of women he is a Mack Daddy but when a girl exhibits that sort of same sexual fearlessness she is a slut? Answer, it’s called social double standard and you are buying into it. You say she is the most wonderful girl in the world. It must mean you love her. That is why you need to put her past behind the both of you. When women behave that way it’s not because they are sluts it is because their self esteem is low because men like yourself have either hurt them, abused them, or treated them shiteously. So if you love her stop making it an issue! And it doesn’t matter who she was with the fact of the matter is she is loyal and loves you now. That is what you should concentrate on. Clearly who she was and who she is now are two different people. And so she says hi to guys she knows. It means she has good manners. Maybe you should learn a few Mr. I Punch My Friends Out. The fact you believe she slept with every guy she says hi to is in your insecure, male, ego dick driven head! And our friends are a reflection of who we are and your friends sound like asshole dickheads. Tell them they better start respecting your woman or they have to go. But then again it seems you folks all settle things truck driver style. After reading your letter I want to let you know that not only does she seem to good for you, but I bet you have your fair share of notches on the bed post. Perhaps my smack upside the head will wise you up, you will learn to act right and salvage this relationship with a woman you care for because sir at some point or other we all come with a past. When casting a play in hell we do not have angels as actors. Learn to man up and accept everyone comes with some sort of bullet wound or battle scar or you will have a very lonely life you self righteous, hypocritical piece of shit. YIKES! Love Mama Foxxx

Dear Mama Foxxx,

I am currently twenty one years old and was involved with a man for two years who would verbally insult me and routinely hit me. The relationship ended badly and resulted in me getting a restraining order. You would think that makes it better but it doesn’t. I am afraid to date again and am afraid to trust people. I also wear running shoes wherever I go so I can make a sprint out the door in case he shows up. I want to return to the world of the living again but don’t know how. I watched you on TV and have heard you speak about this on the radio. Help me please. Signed, Basketcase

Dear Basketcase,

Wow, I just want to start this letter by saying I applaud you for having the courage to write me and tell me your story. Since my TV appearance I have gotten dozens of letters from young women like yourself. Let me tell you I know the feelings you are feeling all too well. However I also want to tell you that in this world there are no victims there are only volunteers, and you are volunteering to be a victim. People can only push you as far as you let them, and you are letting this man’s memory haunt you to the point that you cannot live life like a normal person. Normal people go out with friends, date, and don’t wear sneakers so they can sprint from a psycho ex but I am sure you know that. Have you thought about seeking counseling? That way you can talk about your nightmarish experience and get coping strategies for the anxiety this relationship caused you. In addition you can also work on the self esteem issues that brought you to this man and look at the relationship patterns so history does not continue to repeat itself. Seeking help does not make you weak but in fact makes you strong because it means you are facing your problem. As for the dating again, there is no law saying you have to rush into that. Perhaps you need some you time, that way you can learn to love yourself and therefore attract someone positive who can return the favor without physical violence and a barrage of verbal insults. And remember when you want to hide from the world that this man is no longer a part of your life and he can only get as much power as you give him, and it is your choice whether you allow him to haunt you or not. Therefore get out of the house and go to the movies or the bowling alley with some friends. While it might seem like climbing Mount Everest it is a start. Lastly, I know from experience this is all easier said than done. It takes time so be gentle with yourself. Best of luck on your journey towards healing and happiness. Love, Mama Foxxx