Merch Item of the Week

Hey guys, your favorite Superfoxxx is now selling merch. That's right, you can buy an April Unwrapped T-shirt. (Yipee!)

You can have April in the morning
April in the evening
April at supper time
When you can have April on a t-shirt
You can have April anytime!!!!!

Order Here


And here is my pic of the week. I know, wanna shoot my billiards.

Also, do not forget to mark your calendars, on November 16 The Lady and President Tramp is part of the Solonova festival at The PIT Loft. Hope to see yins guys there xoxo

Until then I will be at Horseman's Hollow Haunted House in the Den of the Wailing Woman puppeting. Priscilla and I hope to see you there this October 26-31.

Daily Meme

April Unwrapped

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Bonus Meme

Just a bonus meme that I concocted. 

Meme of the Week

Sugar High

A few years ago, I was riding the wave of being a reality television personality. It was amazingly fun. Before being on reality television, I thought comedy clubs were going to be my home and final and only destination. I poo pooed the idea of doing a reality show. That was for freaks and geeks. Then they called and asked, "Was it true I left my fiance for  a bunch of puppets?"

Yes it was true. I told them everything. Next thing I knew, I was on reality TV.

I thought with the show would come more chances to perform, and there were. But other doors opened. One was the chance to be a paid talking head on a web network. The other was to make music. I sang as a part of my day job for years, singing telegrammer. But I never dreamed of making music.

My friend Marcus Yi and I spoke about the perfect man and thus this masterpiece was born. Nate Mitchell is my sexy gingerbread man. I haven't made music in a while but would love to make some again.

Either way, here is my flashback Friday memory.

As I desperately seek my Mr. Okay, I hope I don't accidentally eat him.

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I Love LA (Gary Newmann) aka Monday Photo of the Day

It was this time last year I was headed to LA for the first time. My mentor and I were walking the Hollywood walk of Fame and seeing the gift shops. I had never been to LA, and therefore as a New Yorker kept comparing it to New York.

It's a force of habit. Everything gets compared to New York. Even your damn grandmother gets compared to New York. Yes, New York is more uban and gritty. LA is more urban sprawl with it's seedy areas being very seedy. The people in New York are fuck off to your face. The people in LA are fuck off behind your back. You know, East Coast, West Coast throw those gang signs bae.

When we got to Farmer's Market he finally put his foot down. While he's very mild mannered, this comparing New York to LA was getting on his nerves. He finally said, "Stop comparing the two. Let New York be New York and let LA be LA."

Just then his phone rang. He got a notice that one of the alphabet agencies wanted to meet with us. It meant nothing, but it was still exciting. But what was I going to wear. My romper was cute, but it was too informal and made me look like they dragged me off the street to the meeting. The dress I wore the night before to The Magic Castle was glamorous, but it would have been too dressy for this meeting.

Immediately, my mentor took me to a gift shop hoping to find a nice, middle of the line sun dress. We didn't find that but we found an oversized t-shirt. Either the person this t-shirt was designed for was very large or I am very tiny, because this fit me perfectly as a dress.

Needless to say, we went to the meeting on Wilshire Boulevard. While they did not scoop me up right there the door is still open. Life is good. At least I got a cute outfit out of the whole deal.

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Gymnast

Thursday was kind of a flipped out day.

Not in a crazy way. Well yes and no. I did three front handsprings. This was after years of not training. There were no crash mats. My attire was not even gym attire. No leos or athletic shorts. Just a 32 year old Princess Pan who felt the need to do something in the moment. It wasn't planned. This just happened. The first was during a singing telegram where I was dressed as a chicken. The second and third were both at the middle and the end of a standup set uptown. I could have gotten seriously injured. A 32 year old body is not a 12 year old body.

To give you an idea of how nutso this is, I have a friend who also did gymnastics as a kid. Her coach told the squad, "Get as good as you can before puberty, because once you hit puberty you are out of here."

Yes, gymnastics is a sport for the young and insane. The goal of gymnastics is to stay on the perspective apparatus and not to fall let alone break your neck. Your parents watch in horror as you fling yourself around and you can only think, "WEEEEEHHHHHYYYEEEAAAAHHH!!!"

But the older you get the harder it is. Once you hit puberty, your bones are a tad weaker. You get taller which means you can't go around as many times. And then you get boobs and hips and they weigh you down. So most girls either quit, go to cheerleading or diving. I was a terrible diver and wasn't cool enough for the pep squad, so when my injuries started to plague me I just focused on performing.

As I have gotten older I can still do a few moves because I stayed in shape. However, I am not attempting a back tuck, half twist, or even a side aerial. I did a few back handsprings for my class in college, but after my elbow locked that dream died. I have flirted with the idea of adult gymnastics, but today as my bones hurt and I remember how many muscles I used to use that dream is dying too. Someone asked if this was going to become a regular part of my routine. Only if the venue has a crash mat. My manager has yet to add that to my rider.

In some ways I regret letting my gymnastics go. It was a combination of things. It was growth spurts. It was injuries. It was the fact that the gym in my area that produced elites was two hours away and would have been a four hour drive each time we went. And then there weren't that many scholarships. The dance school in my area that offered acro when my school was sold closed as soon as it opened. Basically, it was time to hang up the leo and do other things.

My sister and I laugh about it all now. She was my acro dance partner and used to kick me quite a bit because she was the smaller of the two of us. We were watching the 2016 Olympics, seeing the gymnasts that progressed to adulthood. As the events unfolded my sister observed, "Whoever thought of balance beam.......that was a really bad idea." Yes, once a gymnast and now an ER doc. She knew this could go bad real quick.

As far as the gymnastics goes, I know I didn't go all the way. But gymnastics is a metaphor for life. So much of gymnastics is falling and failing until you master a new skill. And each time you fall, you get back up again. One must do the same thing when they fall and fail at life, whether it is a career, relationship, whatever. Also, gymnastics is focusing on the task of mastering a skill or routine without attaching emotion or attitude to it. Sometimes we need these same tools to get through difficult pockets in life. And maybe this is why I am attracted to comedy, because you fall and fail until you get funny and you do this at each level. In falling, can either quit or get better. The choice is yours.

Ironically each Thursday was my gymnastics night at my dance school where I was in the advanced group. I would go eat dinner, go to class, come home, and have a snack in front of the TV with my dad who was watching our newly discovered cable. Maybe I am longing for the good old days, or maybe I am happy about life again after a very long time. Maybe it's a combination of both.

Either way, Simone Biles, you better let me borrow your advil. These 32 year old bones need it.

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Pin Up

It was Saturday night and I was 10 years old. Sitting in my basement parked on a fold out cot of sorts, my family and I enjoyed a much coveted night of television. We weren’t aloud to watch TV on weeknights. My father’s reasoning was that if you lived in our house you were a thinker. Both of my parents were educators. As I explained you were a thinker.

My brother sat there picking his nose.

My sister blew bubbles in her root beer float.

I sat picking a scab off my knee that I had gotten as a result of a fall in gymnastics class.

Three thinkers poised for greatness.

My mom was fast asleep as she always was on a Saturday night, next to my dad on the couch. It was four of us up and a black and white movie on screen. We were enjoying one of three channels. My dad’s reasoning was we didn’t watch TV, why pay for the cable?

It was a black and white movie, and my dad knew every line. He had grown up with two parents that watched them. The son of a steel worker, his father enjoyed his days off drinking beer and smoking cigarettes his children rolled for him. And on screen there would be an old movie. My grandfather had apparently known every line. Or so my dad said. He died when my dad was young so I never met him.

Either way, a stunning creature came on screen. Her name was Mae West. My father had always talked about her. He would twist his face and talk like the cigarette smoking, hard drinking, saloon frequenting grand dame. Now here she was with her parasol and hat complete with outrageous brim. Celluloid had a goddess and she stole the screen.

“Do you know how old she is?” My dad asked us.

“Probably in her twenties somewhere. Just like the girls on Baywatch.” Wendell had been busted days before for watching Baywatch. He was a 7^th grader. My mother was horrified, but my dad got a chuckle.

“No, she is about 50.” My dad said.

Goddess

My jaw dropped. She was phenomenal and perfect in every day. I fell in love with this Leo lion princess. Her confidence and sense of self was amazing. I wanted all of that and more. Here I was, age 10. I won the award for most books read the year before at the summer reading club and now again at school. To complete my prize package I also won an award for a short story I wrote as well as a ribbon for my history papers and tests. In no way was I going to Hollywood.

However, over the years performing beckoned. It was public access television in middle school and high school. Additionally it was ventriloquism and school plays. College saw me moving to NYC, studying The Method and performing my act in comedy clubs as well as burlesque and neo-vaudeville shows. Despite wanting to be like my hero, and even wanting to be her at times, there also came growing pains.

Growth is sometimes painful. I am proud to say I am older, wiser, and more awesome than when I took this photo. 

A pin up attempt. Some might give me an A for effort, but I plead the 5th

I found myself with a partner who made me choose between him and the puppets. Naturally I chose my puppets. This same fiancé had taken me out and we met an ex girlfriend of his who had breast implants. My ex had the nerve to tell me in front of a full group that I should ask her who her surgeon was. This as well as the fact he compared me frequently to other women he dated out in the open crushed me.

At the time as a variety act in the burlesque world, I saw many of the greats of our generation not only perform but pose for pin up pictures in the style of Mae West, Marilyn Monroe, Betty Grable and of course the late Anna Nicole Smith. While I would post sensual photos online from time to time, I was never consistent with that image. Some of it was the shame I felt as a result of that relationship coupled by childhood struggles with my weight. Some of it was the smart, quirky girl front I put up. Some of it was that my mother hated the pictures and with one screaming phone call they were gone.

Girl after my own heart

So off to the shows I would go in my sundress or pants and suitcoat. My wardrobe became less Mae West and more Paula Poundstone.

Then I did a show at Neer’s Tavern in Woodside, Queens. It was on a rare night we got a tornado in New York. The show was close to being cancelled but a spot is a spot and I went. I had my blazer on along with my jeans. That is when I was told this was a venue Mae West frequented during her early days, before being arrested for pushing the envelope of censorship. Now here I was, the lone comedian on a stormy night that I should have probably stayed in.

One of the most trafficked pics of me ever: seen in Europe, Asia, Australia, South America, and Africa in various news outlets. 

A week later I was chosen for a TV appearance that would change my life. As a result, I had stories written about my puppet children and I on the web. I garnered many fans, mostly male. I found them funny, honest, loyal, and endearing. I found myself wanting to make them happy as each of their fan letters touched a special place in my heart. They made me realize the journey was worth it, and so were the sexy photos.

One of the first true pin up inspired photos I did. It was Mae West inspired. 

I also began to utilize writing as a pathway. More and more I wanted to create my own work just like Mae West had. As a bonus I was armed and dangerous with the over involved mother, crazy sister, crazy brother, and opinionated father. Not to mention it seemed to take me forever to get from A to B, but when I got there it was in a blaze of glory sprinkled with controversy.

Just like Mae West.

They say growth is sometimes painful. After exiting a bad living situation and a relationship with a partner who believed in my dreams but refused to be medicated, I hit a whole new rock bottom. I moved, but began to have dreams my clothes disappeared. I visited a 10^th generation psychic and thus April Unwrapped was born.

A more recent pin up inspired picture of myself. It's one of my faves. 

My pin up/ adult picture book details my naked dreams complete with photos to match. As I completed this pin up book, the old fears crept in. That I wouldn’t be pretty enough. That people would vomit when they saw me. I wasn’t pretty like fill in the blank…….

Mae West was from the flapper era. She wasn’t tall and thin. Instead she was barely 5 feet tall and curvy. Mae West was hot because she was original, had personality, and was brave. There was only one of her and a million of them. She was body positive before it was even a term.

The old fears washed away, and April Unwrapped became an amazing experience to shoot, write, and publish. My list of credits includes actress, comedian, ventriloquist, impersonator, singing telegrammer, published author, and now pin up. I was thinking this the other day on the subway on my way to job. That’s when I realized that Mae West wasn’t so amazing because she was confident, the fact she survived a lot of shit is what made her amazingly confident. Just like me, she also didn’t get there overnight.

As this revelation came into my mind, I realized I not only had a copy of April Unwrapped in my bag but was passing Broadway Junction, the J train stop next to the cemetery where many greats are buried, Mae West among them. As we passed, my phone dinged. My publisher let me know I got another 3 star review on Amazon.

A long time comedian friend of mine with his pic of April Unwrapped. I love this photo and I love him. 

As I smiled, knowing this had not been an accident as we exited my hero’s final resting place I thought, “Goodness had nothing to do with it, dearie.” 

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Trying Too Hard

In my latter teens when I moved to NYC I tried too hard. I wanted to be cool and edgy when really I seemed desperate. I wore fake eyelashes that never looked right. I wore a hair attachment that always fell off. It was fake just like my exterior. I was a bad ass.

No, I was a dumb ass. Especially when I got hooked on a guy that didn't want me back and wanted to be older and more mature. Older and more mature involved getting piss drunk at a Cosi by myself and being dragged out. Hey, I was winning so much I was getting sick of winning. 

I completely tried my ass off when I was younger. I got out of a relationship with a violent, possessive SOB who made me choose between him and the puppets. I told my story behind the mic. I carried my battle scars with pride. I was an edgy feminist. Really and truly I was shrill, angry, and annoying. Feminism isn't about being shrill angry and annoying. It's about the assertion that women are people. Ha ha. 

Then I tried my ass off when I became a reality star and headline. I wanted to be uber cool. I wasnt embracing show business was a business. It was like I wanted to be a nightlife celebrity and Michael Alig was no where to be found. So when I answered fan mail and received eviction papers the same day I was surprised and alarmed. Show business is a business. Being on TV was nice but it's a marathon not a sprint. 

Of course you stop being cool when life shows up. Life showed up in the form of court dates with my landlord. It showed up with my water being turned off and him trying to burn my apartment down during a court date. In between I was abused by his lawyers with endless legal papers. 

Life stopped being cool when I found someone worse than my SOB former fiance who's psychotic breaks became more and more dangerous the more he refused to be medicated. It became even less cool when his friends and family members threatened me after things ended. And the bad boy became a sad tale when recently I found out not only is my ex homeless and shooting dope again, but he's apparently blaming me for the mess he calls his life. 

In between there have been growing pains behind the mic that have made me laugh and cry, and humiliations I thought I was above. 

Yeah, I stopped being cool

But a wise man once said, "Cool is the enemy of comedy."

So I have stopped being cool. My sets have gotten better and I have grown leaps and bounds as a comic. My bumps and bruises are part of my fabric, part of the very thread that weaves me together. But they don't define me the way they used to. 

I make an asshole out of myself on the regular. I played softball the other day and I play like a girl cause I am a girl. But I had fun and raised money for breast cancer, and I made new friends because I didnt try to be cool. 

I did a webcast yesterday. I did it, and tried too hard the first time and accidentally flashed the camera. I had to take it down. I didn't like it anyway. I was trying too hard. Second time I was much better because I was just myself. I didnt care. I cant rap or hit a softball but I am freaking adorable.

I was also able to raise money for breast cancer. I figured I would play for my Nuni Patti Wallisch who raised 6 kids, got her college degree at 66, and became a published poet at 68. She also survived Stage IV breast cancer. Now I think she is more awesome than anyone. 

Also, it was a nice reminder that while I am passionate about relationship violence given my past, there are other women's issues. 

I also tried my hour for a friend who told me to slow down. I thought I was gonna cry. Then I did it again. I slowed down. It felt better. It didnt feel fake. Hopefully it will be good this weekend as I have been working my ass off. Hopefully I won't be too cool. 

Either way I have grown a lot these last two years. The bumps and bruises are worth it. I am ten times the comic I was when I was trying to be cool. I know there's still work to be done. My softball game could also improve. I know I'm gonna be alright. I just need to shower and brush my teeth. Sometimes that's all you need to be fabulous

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New and Exciting

I know I haven't blogged in a while. It has been a mix of a lot of things. One is March saw a lot of death. I lost 2 people I knew to cancer in a week. One was a Las Vegas Director friend who helped me shoot a pilot. The other was a comedy club manager who gave me faith and food when I had none.

Then I had the stomach flu and work was insane. I didnt have a morning to sleep in let alone a moment to myself. Not to mention winter was like the party guest who wouldn't leave. You know, the annoying idiot who's boyfriend never lets her talk and now we know why? Oh and she kept double dipping which was so gross.

And then there was the rain. Yes, the rain was the downer party guest who probably worked in publishing that went to a preppy backup school that had a chip on her shoulder that she didn't get into Brown or her parents couldnt afford NYU. She not only just stayed with winter, but just had something negative to say the entire time.

YUCK!

Then of course I have been writing two books. More on that later. When you are writing a book, that mission is your book. It's like you are Rambo back from Vietnam dodging the cops. Except I do not have his prowess let alone emotional problems. Rambo is hot. He would be a good looking mistake.

God I have had too many of those in my life and times. But two books, does that make me more macho than Chuck Norris?

Anyway, I have an awesome show at the Duplex on June 21. It's my show The Lady and President Tramp. We have Donald J. Tramp. We have Kellyanne Oneway, Mexican President Don Juan De Casanova De Gorgita, Mike Dispence, supporters, protesters, and even a weirdo named Vlad that calls.

I have been working steadily on my show and am so proud of all I have done. Two my life was a lot different, and not in a way that was productive. If you want to know what I have been through, read my previous blogs. Either way, I am grateful for all I have today.

(God/Goddess is good, all the time)

The tickets are available here https://www.purplepass.com/index.php#157539/The_Duplex-The_Lady_and_President_Tramp_-__April_Brucker-The_Duplex_Cabaret_Theatre-June-21-2017.html

And if you plan on coming to surprise me, the address is 61 Christopher Street. Stalkers welcome.

Either way, I am closing this post with my photo of the week. Someone said I looked like Belle from Beauty and the Beast before their big outing. Now if I am the beauty, who will be my beast. Tear me up, Buttercup. MWAH!

And before I forget, moment of silence for those lost in the Pulse Nightclub Shooting. One year has passed and it is still difficult. Saw the memorial last year at Pride and I thought I was going to vomit.