10 Warning Signs of An Abusive Partner

Once a year, my teacher Jeanene Gannon teaches a seminar on women’s self-defense at the UFC Gym on John’s Street. As someone who is passionate about MMA/kickboxing I take the class. A fiery woman barely standing five feet tall in stocking feet, this Hell’s Kitchen native not only cares about self-defense but women. Last year, Jeanene did the same seminar with guest teacher Razor Rob McCullough, a top dog in the UFC. I can safely say as a martial artist and woman, I found it fun, physically fulfilling, and informative. Not only did my teachers care about women and their safety, but they showed us statistics. Yes, numbers. Rape, stalking, and dating violence are real. To me, the numbers hit me harder in the gut than any jab cross punch ever could, and make my reasoning for studying self-defense came a lot closer to come. 

I was 21 and found myself trapped in a relationship with a partner who was emotionally, verbally, and physically abusive. No, I wasn’t some woman in a Lifetime Movie living in a small town. I was attending NYU and had my whole life ahead of me. Suddenly I was trapped. When I tried to leave my partner threatened to kidnap and kill me. He terrorized me, men I dated after I broke up with him, and my friends. His tactics were not limited to in person but to the internet as well. This was in the days before cyberbullying was a crime mind you. Fearing for my safety, I got a different mailing address. My mother also had his name and contact info on the refrigerator in her home in case I were to vanish. Textbooks give the signs of an abusive partner, and they are not wrong. Rather, when you see those behaviors mentioned in psych class it is much too late. They have already roped you in.

Here are some red flags I experienced early on, and now that my eyes are open I warn other young women.

  He Is A Bully- Bottom line, an abusive partner is not just a jerk to you but to everyone. He belittles other people constantly, and puts others down when he can. This man never has a nice thing to say about anyone ever. Now that you see how he treats them, just imagine how he is going to treat you.

He Does Not Get Along With Other Men- Just as women can smell a female manipulator, men have the same gift. If your male friends say he is a tool, and your father and brother don’t like him, they are not just being harsh judges of character. There is a reason. They see things you don’t. Listen to them, they are on your side.

  He Will Rush You Into a Relationship- Early stage dating is when one should take their time and get to know their partner. However, a man who is quick to say I love you and wants to be your boyfriend right away, this is dangerous. It is even more dangerous if he wants to cohabitate right away. He is not looking for a life partner but rather his next victim.

    He Will Pressure You Into Sex- An abusive partner does not care about other people, only themselves. They will pressure you into physical activity long before you are ready. They will tell you this is what adults do, and they want an adult relationship. No, this is what immature people do. An adult waits until their partner is ready to take that step and has a healthy discussion beforehand.

   He Will Be A Professional Victim- Someone who is an abuser is someone who right away will tell you what a terrible childhood they had. They might even embellish it. As women, they know we are wired as caregivers, and they will use this as ammo every time they mess up so you will forgive them.

    He Will Put Down The Things You Love Doing- Right away, an abusive partner cannot stand to be outdone or overshadowed. This is not just your friends or those you love, but things you love doing. If you like painting he will tell you that you have no talent and painting is a waste of time, etc. None of this is true. It’s because painting takes you away from him, and it’s all about him.

    He Will Be Too Close For Comfort With Certain Exes- An abusive partner does not respect boundaries and is a user. They might be very close with certain ex girlfriends, and tell them much too much about your relationship. Does it make you uncomfortable? It should. He might be sleeping with some still, rolling them for money, or keeping them in the wings as a way to have power over you. We already established he’s an unhealthy dude, don’t be surprised.

  He Will Cry Crocodile Tears- An abusive partner is someone who isn’t afraid to get emotional. This is not just limited to fits of anger and rage as is the stereotype, but also he will cry. Also, don’t be surprised if he half heartedly attempts suicide when you try to leave. For him, being alone and not having a victim is worse than death. Don’t fall for this mind game.

    He Has a History of This Behavior- He tells you about an ex “things got bad with” and how she “overreacted.” He might even shamelessly detail coercive sexual behavior too. Be aware and listen with both ears. This is a pattern, and he may even have a stalking/menacing charge filed by this woman he’s not telling you about. I know mine did.

  He Will Make You Abuse Back- An abusive relationship does not play out like Tori Spelling on 90210. Rather, you will get sucked into the cycle. You might start fights as a way to make him mess up and get power later. Or when he hits you, you might hit back. You suddenly think of yourself as passionate couple and not codependent. This is dangerous.

If you are dating someone like this, get out. It will only get worse. If you are getting out of a relationship of this kind, get out and stay out. Don’t look back and keep going. And if you don’t think you will ever be able to get out and it will never get better, I can tell you it does. Also, get counseling or go to a Twelve Step Group Like Al-Anon. Figure out why you picked Mr. Wrong, because it took two to tango. Figure out how stop these patterns like an invasion of Russia in the winter so history does not repeat itself. I can say doing this helped me.

 It is over eight years later. I work as a comedian and ventriloquist in NYC. My puppet children and I have appeared on national television. I write for the Huffington Post and have published a book. Regularly, I can be seen performing my act at night around NYC as well as in hospitals for children. Tomorrow I film my DVD at The Metropolitan Room. Joan Rivers and Liza Minelli have been known to perform there. If it seems I am bragging I apologize. Rather, I am letting young women know that I got out, kept fighting, and today things are remarkably different in a good way.

I was asked to write this blog by a representative of the Fraternities For Families Campaign http://www.charlesullman.com/our-firm/fraternities4family/ They asked me to collaborate. I felt compelled not only because they were young men taking action, but rather they were aware that domestic violence was everyone’s problem. Defying the typical frat boy stereotype, they showed they care about women and want to stop this problem, too. While I can only speak as a straight woman with an abusive male partner, just as there are bad men there are also bad women. Domestic violence also happens quite a bit in the LGBTQ community and goes unchecked. However, there are also good men too. While it takes two to make a thing go bad, it also takes an adult to walk away. It takes an adult to know the warning signs, set boundaries, and have some self-respect.

I have spoken about my experiences, but every once in a while I get a dissenter. Someone tells me I should “move on” and “get over it.” I have, but I want to educate other young people that this is real. Others claim we are only hearing my side of the story. Yes, this is true, but as I said it takes two to make a thing go bad. Male dissenters inform me I am “bitter.” Translated, I struck a nerve and made them look at their own behavior. As an activist who has chosen to make herself visible, I am not here to make people comfortable. The truth is not always pleasant. I am here to educate. If I helped one person reading, I have done my job.

In the words of GI Joe, “Knowing is half the battle.”

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

The Flower Girl (The Cowsills)

It is Easter. The thing about Easter is that it is not as commercially big as Christmas. It has the bunny, the eggs and the whole nine yards. The religious aspect either applies to people or it scares the living breathing hell out of them. It's Easter....

Yes, Christ rises from the tomb. This is after being greeted on Palm Sunday, being betrayed on Spy Wednesday, then sentenced to death on Holy Thursday and of course crucified on Good Friday. Saturday he lay in his tomb and today he rises. I know, zombies do the same thing and don't get the street cred cause they don't have the rich dad. Me gets it.

I am not terribly religious, but more or less spiritual. I can appreciate the meaning of holidays of all denominations. One year my birthday fell on Yom Kippur. It is new. New beginnings, new life, new goals. Easter is the same thing kind of. You see, it's spring. It's the first time the birds chirp. When there is an Easter egg hunt, it is an excuse for kids to run around outside. It is an excuse to play outside in general. Across the street from me, there is a basketball game and there are kids in the park. We are shaking off the winter slump. It is time for rebirth.

I am busy shaking off this past winter. January saw disappointing news when it came to my writing but good news with another project. February saw familial drama come to a head, good news with two projects, and leads on other things. March saw bad news on one project, financial ruin, and darkness. This winter was cold, rough, and bleak. Now things are starting to get better. I have a great career lead, actually lots. I also am filming my DVD in two days. Yeah, I am busting my ass but I deserve it.

I worked hard all winter and now it is time to reap my rewards.

At church this morning I rocked my Easter Bonnet. So many little girls sported flowers on theirs, and one woman flat out wore a flower in her hair. On my way back from church I saw colorful tulips of all different colors. For the first time in months I didn't feel the tired dread of possible snow. The worst was over and the best was yet to come.

I went to the pool and saw the flower show by the pool deck. For the first time in weeks I found myself swimming laps. As I went from lap to lap, I saw the flowers. It reminded me the weather was getting warmer, spring was around the corner, and I was going to be okay. After several laps I got out and saw an old comedy friend. We chatted about people we knew and swore to be lap swimming buddies.

I also saw my mother sent me an Easter Basket. In there she included a flower bikini. After eating all this Easter Candy I should swim more laps. I gotta rock this thing out somehow.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

Grandmother's House

It is around Easter again. When I was a kid, it was one of my favorite holidays. Christmas seemed over hyped and drained everyone. Halloween was neat but it was right before Thanksgiving which everyone passe over and then Santa came. Easter was it's own animal, that's why we had the bunny. Maybe it was Jesus's pet rabbit. Either way, Easter for Christians was the Resurrection of Christ. It meant the end of meatless Friday. It meant perhaps the weather would warm up. It also meant a trip to my grandparent's house.

Nunni and Pop Pop more often than not had Easter. We would always go, white or powder pink dresses and Easter bonnets. Sometimes my sister and I would decorate them in front of the television. Being the product of two teachers, television was a no no in our home on school nights. We didn't have cable anyway. So on weekends it was The War Channel, old movies on PBS, In Living Color, and Married... With Children if we were good. Then my sister and I would make our entrance. My grandparents Nunni and Pop Pop would be waiting.

My cousins and I would exchange notes on what the Easter Bunny bought, and we kind of knew it was our parents but we were okay with that. The ham was cooking along with either chicken or turkey, and for the record I smell both as I am talking to you. But what stole the show was the desserts my Aunt Mary made. Our Uncle Kent always had an Easter craft. Sometimes we would dye Easter Eggs or we would make them Russian Orthodox style. The colors on these eggs looked like a mixture of fashion disaster and hippie on acid driving a peace van. We would write our names on them with clear, wax crayon and you could see them when you dipped them into the tray. Yeah, they looked ridiculous but they were our ridiculous eggs.

Our most fun was the Easter Egg Hunt. Our aunts and uncles would hide the eggs in our grandparents backyard and we would have to find them. Sometimes the eggs were completely obvious, and sometimes they weren't. We would dive into the bushes and get grass stains on our dresses. We didn't care. It was Easter. Spring was finally here. School was like a bad movie almost over. Summer and pools were just a nod and a care away.

Of course my grandparents would enter as the ultimate comedy team. Nunni would open with some outlandish remark, and my Pop Pop would either be silent or he would have a retort of his own. Or sometimes my grandfather would tell us a silly story. Sometimes he turned into a gorilla, and one time he swore he met the Easter Bunny. My Nunni's pride and joy were the dolls she collected. She had inherited them from a grumpy old great aunt of mine. These were dolls from all reaches of the globe and they were kept in a glass case. My sister Skipper and I joked they could come to life. However, I think this is where I got the idea to play with dolls.

I have been thinking of my grandparents lately. My grandmother passed around Easter last year. I was lucky to have them as long as I did though. Nunni was 88 when she passed, and Pop Pop 95. In New York the dogwood trees are starting to bloom. They are white and powder pink like the dresses my sister and I used to wear on Easter. And they also remind me that summer is not far off.

Life has been kind of chaotic lately. I have a lot of things on the burner, and everything seems to be crashing off the rails. This next Tuesday, I am doing a headliner set where I film my DVD. It's a long set with four puppets, not just May Wilson. To say I wasn't nervous would be a freaking lie. I am nervous my fans won't show, I will tank, and I will get heckled at my own taping. I am nervous about everything, especially since the middle is not where I want and getting people to come is like pulling teeth. On top of that, I did a video call for a sports broadcasting gig today where my computer's sound kept fritzing out. I was like the Lamar Oden of the call, coming in and out as I pleased. Because my computer sucked I looked like a woman talking about sports. When I was done, the mods said they got a good sense of my voice. What? Opinionated basketcase. If that is the voice you got, you are correct. And then earlier this week something big for another project was lost in the mix and I had to scramble to find it. It would have been the end of the world if I didn't. Have a video call for that one Monday and I hope I have SOUND!!!!! And telegram deliveries were uber-busy. I am not complaining. I needed the money. Still though, I felt like I was accidentally going to run into a wall.

Tonight I went to give my friend postcards for my show. Steve Ryan, who is the Legendary Pot Roast next Tuesday, told me to stay and watch the puppet show he was stage managing. It was magical. It was mystical. The marionettes reminded me of my Nunni's doll collection. As my brain had been melting down all day, I felt a sense of peace. I could hear my grandfather's voice laughing and telling me it was going to be okay. He had been a war veteran and raised six kids. He had a good sense of humor about things.

Then I remembered how proud they were of me when I came to New York. How proud they were when they saw me on television. How proud they were when I wrote my book. I remember the Reader's Digest cut outs of jokes to use in my act. I remember my grandmother's inappropriate letters to me about family members and how she was a good sport about being fodder in my act.

Easter is about Resurrection. My grandparents went to church every first Saturday. It is a German Catholic tradition to ensure a peaceful passing. They lived long lives and were surrounded by those they loved. I also know somewhere, they are having a great time wherever the next stop on the journey is. Perhaps there they will meet my recently deceased friend Otto Petersen. They would get a kick out of him. My mother would be appalled, but my Nunni might make a new friend. Who knows, he is probably having dinner with them right now. Nunni probably saw Otto at McDonalds with George and brought him home. My Pop Pop as usual will just have to deal, especially when George starts talking and my Nunni gets a kick out of him.

My grandparents were wonderful, compassionate, and funny people. I was lucky to have them as long as I did. I know next Tuesday when my self-important self tapes my DVD they will be in my audience. And whatever happens with the next opportunity in my life, they will be there with me too. I can just see them on the other side saying, "That's my granddaughter. She's in New York and she's a big time comedian."

Miss you Nunni and Pop Pop. Happy Easter.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

Pieces of April (Three Dog Night)

I remember it was a rainy day when I decided to come to New York. Things in my life weren't looking up. At school I was bullied relentlessly. I was overweight, had cystic acne, braces, and nothing else going on. There were three things I excelled at: Storytelling in Forensics, Story writing that won me local awards, and secretly practicing with my Groucho Marx ventriloquist figure. I was told by teachers I had a gift. When I watched the TV, Mae West hooked me in. Madonna's BioRhythm on MTV enthralled me. And then I saw LA Confidential.

Afterwards, I went on a walk with my mom and poured my heart out. My mother who had gotten me my ventriloquist figure the year before didn't tell me no. She didn't laugh at my pipe dream. Instead she looked at me, all barely five feet of her and declared, "Baby, if you want to do that you have to move to New York."

Yesterday I got some distressing news. Otto Petersen, a ventriloquist I admired, had passed away. He was the human half of Otto and George. Notorious as both a ventriloquist and comedian, Otto could pack them in wherever he played. He offended people at the XXX awards. What I loved about him most was that he was fearless onstage, but offstage he was kind and supportive to young comedians finding their voices. The same went for Otto's friends. Yeah, on the radio, onstage, or TV they ragged on each other. But offstage, they had each other's backs. Comedians are backstabbing pricks. This is rare.

Yesterday I also got some good news with my ventriloquism. An opportunity I had been scouted for months ago finally is moving. This is very exciting, and could be very good for me. It was the bright spot in a day filled with darkness, and filled with the pain of the loss of someone I admired so much. It is just just a pleasure to work alongside a hero. It is an honor, especially when they say, "I like your stuff."

I was excited about this news, and went to a friend's house to watch RuPaul's Drag Race. I got an email from this opportunity, the link I sent them didn't work. AHHHHHH!!!!!! I emailed the woman and searched frantically for the link on my computer. My head was going to explode. One of my spirit animals insisted I go to bed.

In the morning another spirit animal friend helped me find it. He sent me two versions of the link. It was fine. They were happy. Having worked in production, I know in my heart they were as stressed out as I was. Our heads were exploding together. Then there was nearly a mix up in the time I delivered the telegram this morning. Oh and I forgot to email my mother goodnight and it seemed everything was going off the rails before 9 AM. As I ran to the train seeing I missed one and another wouldn't come for an hour I took a breath. I stuffed a chocolate donut in my mouth. I agonized over my DVD taping. Oh, and I added a singer friend to the bill.

I got caught in the rain again on my way to the delivery, I took a wrong turn. However, when I got there they were awesome people. The most extraordinary delivery I have done in a long time. They liked me and my energy. I put on a good show and got a surprise tip. I handed them a post card for my filming.

The guys looked at it and said, "That puppet looks familiar. That puppet has been on TV."

"Yeah, she's been on TLC, Rachael Ray, and The Today Show. Hardest working girl in show biz, May Wilson."

"She has a last name?" The other guy laughed. They got a kick out of it. I explained a well known ventriloquist told me to do it. A well known ventriloquist named Otto Petersen. I tried not to well up at that moment.

As I walked back in the rain I thought of everything in my life coming together. All the hard work looking as if it was finally paying off. I gloated, May Wilson was recognized. I also sent some facebook messages as I battled the rain under an overhang, reminding my friends that my taping was a week away. I feared my venue cancelling my taping. I feared everything crashing down.

And then I remembered Otto. He was fearless. He didn't give a fuck. George would say, "Brush your teeth with my cock." For everyone that hated him, twenty more loved him. I was blessed to have worked and learned from one of the greatest. Maybe someday, when I get over myself, I will be an eighth as cool. Of course, perhaps some of what he had will rub off on me. Perhaps the basketcase will be replaced with the freedom he had.

There were people who wrote me telling me they would have never known about me had it not been for The Pig Roast. So many friends I would have not met if it weren't for the Pig Roast. Some naysayers have said that I am a hack, female version of Otto and George. Not true. Otto was original, funny, and unique. Rip off would have meant that I had some of his charm. Again, I could only be so lucky.

Then I remembered someone had seen May Wilson. Maybe people were going to come see my DVD taping. Maybe my dreams were coming true. And somewhere, maybe just maybe there is a kid who has heard about me, and has been following my career. Much like Otto, there are quite a few ventriloquists who don't like my brand of humor. Otto was better as shutting them out. Yeah, I feed into it from time to time, downside of being a woman. Again, only hoping to be almost as cool.

Maybe that kid's mother will tell them to move to New York. And maybe that kid will seek me out.

That's when I will tell them, "You figure needs to have a last name......"

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

My Puppets Have Last Names

Comedy is a lonely business. At the bottom there are bringer and barker folks eager to get stage time by busting their asses. In the middle, there are career bringer producers and barker overseers who make your dream feel obscured. On the next rung are those who have TV credits but can't pay their rent, thus stabbing everyone and anyone in the back to be on the upside of the middle. On top of them are the regulars on the TV shows, and then there are the stars. Somewhere in this mix you have the bookers, the club owners, and everyone else. People give you all sorts of advice and it is tough to know who is friend and who is foe.

In the comedy business, there is also a lot of trash talk from comedians when it comes to our more eccentric peers. When I was nineteen, I was chatting with a bunch of fellow vents. Many of these folks had done Vegas. Some were smaller time, club dates and corporate. Then Otto and George came up. They were this X Rated ventriloquist duo. There were stories about them offending people at the porn awards. These guys kept saying there was no way a prop act could follow a good standup. But somehow Otto could. He broke all the rules and defied all the odds. That's why they were so eager to talk shit.

I met Otto for the first time when I was twenty.  Still green, I was new to comedy. That summer, I had spent a lot of time at Pips. In Sheepshead Bay, it felt like a New York outside of the city. One evening, I was invited to see Otto and told to bring May. It was a wild night. The whole place was trashed. I was coming out of the fog of the first year of comedy. Yes, the fog where I thought I would be on HBO tomorrow. However, then I realized I didn't know what the fuck I was doing.

Otto asked me if May had a last name. I said no, puppets didn't need last names. As I sat getting tanked like everyone in the place, Otto informed me they did. A puppet needed a last name because that gave the character more depth and made them more real. Otto informed me George's last name was Dudley. It was after an uncle of his. For May, I chose Wilson. The reasoning being that as a kid, my family didn't have cable, and Dennis the Menace was one of the few cartoons we watched. Mr. Wilson was my inspiration, and Wilson was easier to say than Brucker. So thus it began, and this was advice that wasn't total bullshit. This man knew what he was talking about. Plus he wanted to help another young comedian.

I met Otto again several years later. Now I had started getting time on national television. While the exposure had been cool, I was also being introduced to a cruel reality of the business, jealousy. I had done open mics with some people back in the day, and then all of a sudden they stopped speaking to me. Or when they did it was one, mean, nasty back handed jab after another. I began to grow a chip on my shoulder than became a cinderblock. Comedy became about fame and ego, not about punchlines.

I was invited to do The Pig Roast by the Wild Cherryz Burlesque. They were the house dance team. Otto and George were doing a late night talk show, and I was flattered I was asked. The experience was awesome, not only to work with someone so amazing but also someone who loved comedy. Everyone there just loved comedy. I also didn't feel so alone, and the cinderblock melted. The Pig Roast introduced me to a new group of comedians who may have teased each other on the air and when the camera was on, but in real time they were supportive as hell of each other.

Otto did my webshow, and called in. I remember him calling me a hack several times. Otto also denied the legendary Apollo incident as well as being the inspiration for the movie Magic. But these are still cool stories nonetheless. He could kill it in the Aristocrats, work his charm on Letterman, and still murder a crowd. At the same time, he remained humble and respected other ventriloquists such as Terry Fator and Jeff Dunham. While he bowed in some ways because he never had their commercial success, he was better in so many ways. Otto never censored his act, he didn't care, and he wasn't afraid to give a young comedian a pointer. He wasn't afraid of you being funny because he shined no matter what.

There is a famous story about Otto. He was street performing in Washington Square, and John Lennon saw him. After he was done, he handed Otto a dollar and fifty cents. He told Otto the dollar was for him, and the fifty cents was for George.

I think right about now Otto is doing a show for all of them.

As my type A personality keeps driving and readies for her DVD taping, I will think of Otto. I will think of chasing the punchline. In my heart and in my mind, no matter how much or how little commercial success I get, I can only dream of being as extraordinary as he was.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

The Career Wilderness

No one ever talks about career wilderness. It is where the wild things go, except that the wild things are fictional. This is real. On top of that, everyone experiences it. A friend of mine who works for the UN mentioned a friend of hers who climbed as far as she could was 35. The next opportunity for advancement was not until she was 42, which is the minimum age for a certain ambassador position. So thus she was trapped in the career wilderness.

There is no place that is more vast when it comes to this than show business. When I began comedy, I thought you got on TV and you were a star. It was that way a few generations ago. Now it is actually quite easy to get on TV. It's strange. I knew people from back in the day who were on shows like Premium Blend and Last Comic Standing. As a 20 year old kid I looked at them like gods. They were everything I wanted to be in comedy. Younger comedians adored and respected them. However, for a lot of them this didn't last forever. Many Premium Blend alum have not done anything in years, except wander the NYC comedy scene hopelessly, going from crappy basement to crappy basement. It is as if they werent even stars but somehow fell from the sky back down to Earth. Same with the folks on Last Comic Standing. Same with a lot of people who were talking heads once upon a time on Best Week Ever. They probably go through their notebooks remembering when once upon a time they were someone......kinda.

I remember the first time I got on TV. Last Comic Standing 5 briefly. I had a bunch of people who wanted to claw my eyes out, particularly people who made the callback and didn't get as much airtime with Bill Bellamy. This didn't phase me until some fat, ugly mommy comic called it out on the web. Then I was on Rachael Ray. Good or bad, the appearance got some buzz. I was kind of doing theatres at the time. I also had inked a pilot deal for another project. Star power, right? And then I did a pre-show for Aretha Franklin. Little did I know I was about to enter the career wilderness myself.

The market popped and the day job that got me the pilot dried up, so I was forced to do bitch work handing out fliers on the sidewalk. The worst was, one day the location was outside a place I had only taped months before. Rachael Ray had given me a TV credit, but my appearance had been controversial. I hadn't killed it. Also, it wasn't a Late Show or Comedy Central credit. It was a weirdo credit. I had also officially graduated from barking and bringing. So now because I wasn't a headliner and was no longer a bringer, stage time was harder than ever to get. I didn't know what was next for me, and the future seemed very dark. Maybe it was time to hang it up, move back home. Maybe I was going to be someone wandering the scene talking about how great I could have been.

During this period I was so poor I walked everywhere, thus losing a ton of weight. I got onstage any chance I got, and put away a lot of good sets though. I spent my weekends on the road burning up all my money on gas. For as good as my comedy was getting, I feared I would never get where I wanted to go. I spent all summer performing in parks, subways, and any street corner where I could set up shop. People threw me money and I began to not only become a better comedian, but my non lip movement was damn near perfect. That fall I got the opportunity to do my own show with my puppets. I continued doing this at different venues and built a small following. I also began writing my book. Slowly, the darkness lifted and I began to see a light. Perhaps the future wasn't so dark after all. Still, I couldn't have that darkness again. It would kill me.

I did everything I could never to go back. I made videos and continued producing my own work. However, I became so scared of the dark I started to settle. I remember thinking I would trapped forever being worked to death as an open mic host, but didn't want to go back to uncertainty. One day my boss told me that sometimes we had to settle in show business, and I needed to stop demanding better spots. Another pro told me that we all deserved better spots when I was complaining about my lot. That is when my gut told me perhaps the darkness had it's benefits.

I got the fuck out.

That fall, I went past a location I had passed out fliers travelling in a limo from The Today Show. My puppet children and I were on a press tour. Things picked up steam. Soon fans were pouring in. People who had seen me once upon a time were writing me to tell me how proud they were. The darkness had cleared and now I was looking at my first blue lagoon.

However I was soon to step into quicksand. I was fired from my open mic job because I had spent too much time away with the press tour. A bigger club didn't pick me up. But instead I got a job as a talking head for a website, and began making music. "Stay" was number one for five weeks on the internet, and I published my book. I also became a regular blogger for the Huffington Post, and released the audioe version of my book. While it didn't make sense at the time God knew where he was guiding me.

The money wasn't as plentiful as I had hoped, and I still have my day job which is fine. I like my day job. But I am back in the career wilderness once again. I have one project that was inspired by my book, that was turned down by someone major. Now it is in new hands and I am waiting. We have a new person on it pushing things forward, but I am waiting. I have another major project having to do with my puppets in the hands of someone important. Both have some legal red tape, and both could be good if they happen. However, with the red tape comes limitation of movement. Additionally, I have a new web start up job as a sports broadcasting talking head and a  teaching artist job.....steady money but they haven't started yet.

Still, this is a blessing in a way because since CBS Local I have wanted to do more with sports broadcasting. So I am looking forward to that new adventure actually.

I am also filming a DVD. The whole thing is killing me in a lot of ways. I am busting my ass readying things. My material is coming together. But there is a chunk in the middle that is questionable, and I am wrestling with how to end it. Also, publicity is making my head explode. I made a poster, am passing out postcards, and am listing it on every site ever. I got a friend who films comedy DVDs to do me a favor and do it. I am scared of my fans not showing up and the venue pulling my show. I just want everything to be perfect, and am losing my mind. Yesterday I was yelling at my assistant which was pretty funny actually.

I was talking to a friend of mine, a career actress who has done regional theatre and television her entire career. Kind of an aunt/mom type, she was one of the first people to buy my book. She explained this was part of the profession, this is what I signed up for. My Neighborhood Auntie mentioned that once you find yourself in the uncertainty, you find yourself out and you just need to have faith. She also gave me hope, mentioning that all the things that were stressing me were good things. Things I have worked for. Additionally, while the future is unknown it doesn't mean it's bad. It could actually be quite bright.

I also fear I won't get to the next level with my career. I have exposure but no money in the bank. I don't know what is next for me, either. At the moment, the future feels very dark and unsure. However, I remember how sparkling and bright the blue lagoon was and how the sun shone on it. For some reason, my Higher Power wants to humble me and teach me new lessons. Hopefully the brush will clear and I will know answers soon.

Hopefully, I will be out of the career wilderness.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

Let Me Love You Down (Ready For the World)

Does age matter when it comes to dating? That is a good question. I have been on both ends of this stick in this matter. On one hand, yeah, it does. You can relate to someone your own age. On the other hand, it doesn't. Sometimes young energy is fun. Also, age can be just a number. I know 40 year olds who act 10 and mature 18 year olds who are wiser than many.

When I was nineteen, I remember dating a dude who was six years older briefly and being very eager to impress him. Wanting him to see I could hold my liquor, I got really trashed on Apple Martini's. As if that wasn't enough, I fell off the bar stool and the whole place saw my underwear. That evening, I begged him to "take me," because I had seen waaaayyyyy too many movies. However, he was a gentlemen and didn't, thank God. That was super mature, I know. It faded out though, because he was living in a hotel and was kind of homeless. But he was a good dude and was ultimately respectful of my lack of experience.

After him, I fooled around with a dude twice my age who was a mess. The son of a world famous opera singer and one hit wonder who's work is often credited to someone else, puppetry brought us together. This dude was a gossip, a shit starter, and someone who still doesn't have it together. The other day, an old friend of mine and I talked about him. He is currently off his bipolar meds and living in the woods in his home state.

Oh and then there was the trust fund dude who I fell for that was older. I wanted him to be my boyfriend and he thought I was too young. At the time, he explained if I were older things would be different. That didn't stop him from playing mind games and throwing a hissy fit when my fiance came along. Still, he was right. He did me a favor.

The fiance was much older than I was, and that is probably why the relationship was such a mess. He had a history of dating strippers, I never had a boyfriend. I can't blame him for everything, I was bad too. The relationship heated up faster than a Bunson Burner and just exploded out of control and if a container of gasoline was placed on the thing. We were a terrible match, yet somehow I have only said I love you twice in my life and meant it. He was one of those times.

After him, I dated a mix of older guys. Dudes my age couldn't keep up. Because I was used to an older dude, I was just more mature. I dallied with some dudes my age, but it never really went anywhere. I dated older dudes with money, but they bored me. Then I dated some bad boys who were older and had kids which was weird. Then I dated mixed up married not sure and divorced dudes looking for fun. Of course there were a few who were five years older, a nice split. More healthy and doable.

After one breakup though, things changed. I ended up hooking up with an Abercrombie model. He had acted heroically saving me from an assault on the street. The cutie had just been dumped by his high school sweet heart who wanted him back now that he was modelling. I remember thinking he could be a boyfriend, he was cute, sweet, and a gentlemen. But he was 19, I was 24. I felt like I was robbing the cradle. When I spoke to him, it became apparent he was 19. Granted, he was a good kid but I knew I was going to get my heart broken. Plus he was just a kid. He would get sick of me in a week. He was trying to figure himself out. I felt like the trust fund dude cutting a lose, young, love struck puppy lose. I still wonder about him, if his life turned out alright.

Oh and then there was the dude I dated in his 80s. For as much it looked like we were a cradle robbing complicit team, he was fun to be around. I loved his knowledge of comedy, and the fact he was a player even at that phase of his life. Hell, he was fearless and flamboyant. Oh and I always ate well. In the end, it looked like if we ever hit a home run he might die in the process.

I then went out with a dude who was 2 years younger. It was okay. There wasnt much age difference. After that I fell for Holden Caulfield who was exactly one week older than me. Yeah, we were almost exactly the same age. That didn't turn out so well. But it was the other time I said, "I love you" and I meant it. Still, it felt different because we were so close to the same age. It wasn't pressure to act older. It was more or less just to be myself.

Tony Manero was much older than I was, and the older guy seemed less appealing. Rather, it was an indicator this comedic hasbeen was never getting his act together. It made me miss Holden more, and was a reinforcer that sometimes when older men wanted much younger women, it was because they had yet to grow up themselves.

This past week I went out with a much younger dude. He's whippersnapper age. Some of the things he does are whippersnapper behavior. Hell, he is a whippersnapper. On the other hand, this is kind of attractive because he is very spur of the moment, and that is fresh energy for my old bones. Still, I know the way these things go. What he wants now might change in a week. Plus he is young and it is summer so he is going to want to play the field. He says he likes me though, and wants to be more than my friend.

There is a part of me that is like, "AHHHHHH!!!" because my New York jadedness makes me fear commitment. On the other hand, maybe this is whatever it is. I tried to let him down easy because I know the way these things go. He said even though he is young he is mature in other ways. Still, I know how these things end. Yeah, he finds some tenderoni closer to his age and I am just the old maid. I know I hurt him though, and that doesn't feel so good. But I also know with age and time comes damage. He needs someone closer to his own age who isn't quite so baggage filled and fucked up.

I do enjoy his company though. Ultimately we both agreed to be friends and see where it went. It leaves him room to be a whippersnapper without guilt, and leaves me room to be a cheetah who is on the prowl while she desires her own independence. On the other hand, if it does grow into something more, it could be awesome for everyone involved. Love is always awesome. But then it fades and sucks ass.

Either way keep hope alive.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st. 

Just a Friend (Biz Markie)

It all begins when you have a crush on a dude, and they totally mac back. Or are they macking back? It is never quite known. Sometimes I miss the signals, sometimes they miss them too. Either way, when they turn out to be a missed connection and then you are friend zoned it is a bizarre world. Yeah.

I remember my first dalliance into this was when I was in high school. This dude and I were enemies, and then we had an English class and became friends. Then I discovered I had a crush on him. I was totally hitting on him, and then one day he decided he didn't want to sit next to me anymore. Later on VDay he brought flowers to my other friend which totally crushed me. But I survived. They were a better couple than we were. While they didn't last, we remained friends. He has even seen me perform a few times here in NYC. We joke about my high school crush, and it is for the best we became friends. We would have made a lousy couple.

My senior year I did the strange dance with Bobby Parker. He was the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, I hadn't yet discovered what bad decisions were. People wondered what our connection was, and he beat up anyone who said anything bad about me. He had a girlfriend opposite town over who knew about me and wasn't very happy. We never met though, but she was probably a redneck like every chick in that school. Anyway, we did this bizarre flirtation and then I went away to college. Yeah, he broke my heart. But then he got deep into drugs and really wrecked his life. Then he got clean, found God, and annoys the shit out of everyone. As a bonus, he married a girl he met in rehab and now they own and operate a Christian tattoo parlor. Okay, it was better that one didn't work out. And when we see each other we are friends. I thank God he isn't my husband.

College saw the same exact thing. First semester freshmen year, I met an upperclassman transfer I totally dug. I drunk dialed him and said I loved him because I was just loaded. He never spoke to me again. My RA explained he was just trying to protect his penis because I had appeared Lorena Bobbit crazy. Well he showed up to summer session with a new girlfriend and pretended we were all just friends. I was willing to pretend too. It was awkward if I didn't. Well now when we see each other, we are friends. I think he is still kinda scared of me though. In the end, it was better that didn't work out too.

Another dude I became just friends with was one I met after college. We both did comedy and all. I liked him, he liked me, and we kind of just went back and fourth. Nothing ever happened. Then he met his now wife and it was all over. He doesn't perform as much, and has a kid. We are the best of friends, and his wife is a doll. I wish him nothing but the best, and in the end as I have said before, we would have been a terrible match. Hey, a friend who loves you is better than an ex who hates your guts. Trust me, I know.

Then there are those who aren't happy about just being friends. One is an ex of mine who didn't want to be my boyfriend but wanted all the fringe benefits. So when I found someone who did want to be with me, he began to try to win me back at a furious speed. He later married a good friend of mine who decided she hated me after they became engaged. Then he messaged me on his wedding day which was crazy. We worked on a few projects together, and we always were a good team. But his wife hates me as I said. A few months ago, my life was going well and his was in the shitter. He made a scene when I said he was an old friend. Hey, he could have been Mr. April Brucker but he screwed that one up.

Another is a friend of mine from back when I connected with. His relationship was on the rocks. I was single. Things got crazy cause we spent waaaayyyyy too much time together. He got crazyyyyyy possessive over me. I wish things worked out between us, but I didn't want to mess up the friendship we had. He likes me and I like him. As I have said he was a Mac Daddy back in the day, and he is surrounded by way too many sexy women. Still, he got weird when I called him an old friend once. Complicated much?

And then things got even crazier with another flirtation last winter spring. He was a Dominican dude, so not my type. At first I thought he reminded me of a dude who broke my heart. But we clicked. However he was a game player as Spanish dudes tend to be. Things got complicated and bizarre whenever we saw each other without anything actually happening. I just got annoyed with his games and put an end to it. I know he still wants me but I am over him like the Brooklyn Bridge over water. If he wants to be an adult he can find me. But Spanish guys suck at that as I said. Then again, all guys suck at that.....Oops.

I just had a dude who I had a flirtation with that has turned into just a friend. I feel hurt and disappointed but I don't do games. He plays games and I am sooooooo not into that. I still do find him dead sexy though, but the games spoil everything. Then he had a snit fit when I didn't run after him. Do yourself a favor chico and buy a life at the dollar store. Still, I enjoy his company, think he's funny, and we have common interests. I think he is gonna be just a friend. Yeah, I can totally do better.

Now off to tend to my career, my first and only true love. Hopefully it won't disappoint me like the men I date.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st. 

Baby Love (Regina)

It is spring again and the birds are out. It means love is in the air, kind of. The creepy men are out and about. I had a few strangers whistle at me from their trucks. I always get mixed feelings about this. One third of me, the feminist, is turned off. I want to tell them about my NYU degree, not that the piece of paper makes me much money. The other part of me is insecure, the fat girl who was asked out as a joke, and is scared by the male attention. The third part of me is enthralled, intrigued, and wants to jump in the front seat of the truck.

The guys across the street from me play a mean game of B-Ball. Usually they are mixed in age. Some of the young guys look older from far away. Much of me fears mistaking the young for old and treading on dangerous legal territory. A former high school classmate of mine is on a sex offender registry for distributing kiddie porn. I don't want to join him for thinking a 15 year old was 21. Not that the 15 year old will mind. Still, me paying at McDonalds. I want him to disappoint me and be of legal age, thank you very much.

There is a part of me aching for a guy. It is strange because it has been forever and a day since I had one. I also like to have a fling that begins in spring. My Tony Manero was the last fling I had in the spring. He was two years ago. I remember the whole thing started out so good. I really liked him and he really liked me. Then I found out the hasbeen was using me to revive his flagging career. It really hurt when I found out. My mother tells me I should be flattered. Meanwhile, it hurt. I have been abused and misled enough in matters of the heart. I have blogged enough about it for people to know. I didn't deserve the using that he did. I hope he chokes everytime he plays an old person resort, or knows I am climbing to new heights.

The truth is, I probably wouldn't know how to talk to a guy. I watch the guys in the court across the street from me, and wave shyly. They think I am some weirdo in jeans and a ball cap, and probably are discussing a plan of action because they think I am armed and dangerous like the Lifetime Movies I watch. My mom keeps trying to get me to join EHarmony. I am not sure I am ready to die just yet. She also tried to get me to hit on a husky man in an elevator. Is this what my life has sunk to?

There are several hot guys I have my eyes on. One goes to my church. He always goes to the mass after mine. Always with his family, too. I don't think he knows I am alive. And if he does, he probably thinks I look like a drip. It has been cold so I am not especially dressy for church. Still, he is cute. Is it wrong to check out men is church? It's sinning, not winning.

Then another is a friend of mine. Things got crazy between us a year ago. He has a girlfriend he is always on the rocks with. Plus he is a Cancer. Both the already committed and crab say run. But things got gray in a way neither one of us were prepared for. Plus he was a Mac Daddy back in the day. I was rather shy, actually. However, since then I had one ex go nuts over me, and one ex's wife go cukoo for coca puffs. Can there be two Mac Daddy's under one roof?

The third is a fella on the West Coast. I didn't like him when we met. Actually, I thought he was a prick.But like fungus he grew on me. I actually hope to see him again. I dream about him being a better kisser than both the guy at church and my friend.

The fourth is someone I chat with quite a bit. He knows who he is. This chico is a mover, shaker, and a dancer. I don't know if he likes me like that or as just a friend. Plus he is kind of a ladies man. Still, he is a McCutie. Plus a lot of the girls like him and the competition is weird. They have good things I don't, like they go for it.

Either way, my super Spooky Juice is not giving up just yet. He gave me some money to buy a leather dress and gave me a suitcase. He gives me a kiss every time he sees me. Spooky reminded me this is our month. He also remembers the first outfit he saw me in. Spooky reads my blog quite a bit.

Then again, so does the crazy concubine of my ex who hates my guts and probably has a voodoo doll of me. She was actually off my case for a few months because apparently she was getting professional help. But I guess that failed like her whole life. Last Sunday she called me 16 times and hung up. At this point in my life I don't get annoyed. I don't get angry because God already hates her. Instead I gently ask, "Shouldn't George be sexually disappointing you on his beautiful Sunday?"

She has scaled back, only calling me 3-4 times under her blocked number. Maybe she is beginning to admit it to herself. She wants me. She wants to lick me and suck me like a chocolate Cadberry Easter Egg. I know I am sexy, Baby. Hey, if it were between me and this ex, I would want to go to bed with me too. Can't blame the girl. Still, she should ask me out on a proper date instead of being creepy. Oh, she is acting like some of the men who send me fan mail. (Note: Most are good. But there was one dude who mentioned seeing me on Netflix and undressing me with his eyes. Thank God for a PO Box).

Or better yet, maybe she should feed her cat who is probably forced to forage for itself. Or walk some dogs or something cause that is what she does in between drug binges. Better yet, practice with her band that no one goes to see. Yeah, so if you are gonna ask me out baby do it. But don't come dressed like me. And don't come with the blood red hair. Both are weird.

Yeah, my life is high drama. Either an ex is stalking me or an ex's bitch is stalking me because he lets the retard out of her cage. Can't I get a normal boyfriend? In the words of the mother in As Good As It Gets, "Honey, there is no such thing."

So now I think of it. I have had a fiance and that failed. Then I had a boyfriend who was a lawyer who turned out to be a liar. After him I had an almost boyfriend who was waaaayyyy too clingy but worked for a famous dude. After him, I had a friend who wanted more and just wouldn't stop and that ended our friendship. Oh, and then I had Holden who I am kinda sorta still in love with. After him was Tony. And now I don't know.

Men are like dogs. They slobber, drool, and you have to bathe them. They also demand constant attention. I have a DVD taping in less than two weeks. I have shit to do.

On the other hand, most of my fans are male. They enjoy my sexy pics. Did I mention I love guys?



Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st. 

10 Things My Rocky Marathon Taught Me

If you have been following my posts, you know I have been having a shitty last few days. I am to the point where while things are looking like they might improve, I am scared to have hope. When I said things couldnt get an worse, they did. When I said things had to get better, they got worse. Right now, things are in neutral. No one has compromised my credit cards, I have some money to live on, and my rent is going to get paid. Bonus, a better group of people want the one project it looks like and I had an excellent interview with an internet sports network as a talking head.

But Saturday sucked royally. That's a different blog in general but why kvetch anymore?

So I got home ready to hit something after a rough week. And saw Rocky I-V was on Netflix. Here are ten things my little Rocky binge taught me.

1. I should have started as a lone shark. Not only would I be able to break legs, but Apollo Creed might take notice and give me a heavy weight fight.

2. Your true love is working at a pet store and has horrible fashion sense, but underneath is a vixen. I should know this in case I go gay.

3. Burgess Meredith is the best trainer ever.

4. Nobody talks smack better and then turns into a more perfect trainer than Apollo Creed.

5. Never fight Dolph Lungren in a costume with James Brown and dancing girls coming into the ring. He will kill you.....literally.

6. Apollo Creed's wife put up with a lot of shit.

7. Children in Philadelphia don't really go to school, do chores, or homework for that matter. They need their time free, because when Rocky runs, they have to go to the streets and run too.

8. Whenever Mr. T challenges you to a fight, the outcome will be, "Pain." I pity the fool.

9. Paulie is a bum. Give him a job or he'll get in trouble. Never let him handle your business or you will be back in the ghetto.

10. Tommy Morrison wasn't acting.

In all seriousness, whenever you have a victory, it isn't about you. Rocky's victory was for the entire city of Philly, and he showed people with hard work they could get out. He led people believe they were something. He took a chance. It makes me fight hard. It makes me keep taking hits even though I am not sure whether I am out of the darkness or not. It makes me want to fight until the last punch.

It makes me want to tell my enemies this is only the beginning. Even though my children and I are Netflix famous and broke as hell, we will be living in Beverly Hills, even if some of my redneck family members believe there is oil there.

It makes me want to tell some kid somewhere that this can happen for them to.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 w. 22nd st

Fear, Loathing, and Disgust

Yeah, it has been a shitty run this week. Let's see where to start. I am having people attack me left and right. I think the whole thing has been instigated by someone who has had beef with me for sometime. I hate this young woman with a passion. Yeah, if she died in some horrible manner I wouldn't be totally sad. She is sick, and is telling lies about me and is getting other people to gang up on me. Oh and she called me and hung up 16 times. Really sweetie. Get a life, bitch.

Then work has been crazy. It was slow but is starting to pick up. Last month I made my rent, no problem. Money left over. This month has been more of a struggle. Luckily I had some money left over. But I hate sweating about money problems. No wonder people flip out over being broke. It fucking sucks. To make matters worse, one of my credit cards has been compromised. They sent me a new one, but the new one didn't work. So I have been living off the other one which is almost maxed out. Yeah. AWESOME!!! And the cherry on the cake is, I have no money in the bank currently until I get paid.

I kept telling myself this would pass except I found out yesterday I was passed over for  a huge opportunity. It is something I wore a captain's jacket on, and something I kind of had a command seat on, too. We were so close to getting it. The feedback was so positive. It could have been WONDERFUL for all of us.

And then God said, "HA!"

So yeah. Life kind of sucks over here. I would wish cancer on this bitch but that would be too good for her. More like a flesh eating virus no one has seen, and only Dr. House can diagnose. But Dr. House is fictional. I am sick and tired of her. It has been almost three years and she lies about me, and now is sending other people to start with me. Seriously, she can have my sexually disappointing ex. They can all talk about me. They have a good subject. God help her if she sees me on the street. I don't even care anymore.

As for my money struggles, I might be forced to take another side job for a weekend or two that is fast money. Relax, it's legal. If it were illegal it would pay higher. If someone recognizes me from TV while there I might jump into traffic. I really hope other work picks up. It's not that I am too good for this. Fuck it. Actually I am. Once you have had a taste of fame and exposure, it is really tough to go back to doing shit and shoveling shit. I really don't want to do it. I just can't. The new credit card is supposed to come and I am supposed to get paid soon.

After that I got a call that I got passed on for a HUGE grant for a project I was doing. They called me to say they were pulling my application and apparently I had forgotten something they didn't even list in the instructions. I just wanted to tell them I wished them a slow and painful death. They should have just trashed my application. Or maybe I should have invited them over for the shit show called my life. I already want to walk into traffic. I figured it couldn't get any worse, right?

WRONG!!!!!!!!! IT JUST DID, BITCHES.

And then as for this opportunity, this just plain sucks the big one. This has been a large part of my life since last summer. Please don't try to comfort me. Most everyone who has reached out has been lovely but they haven't done shit. And then there are those who are allergic to achievement who don't realize how badly this royally fucking stings and say stupid shit. They don't realize that this compiled with everything else makes me want to stick my head in my oven. But then I realize it is electric so that option is out.

I would kill myself but I might live. And if you kill yourself there is no way things can get better.

I would buy a rifle and just take out the people I hate. But I am too broke to buy a gun and frankly, I don't know if I would do well in prison. While I would get the Masters Degree my mom has been pressuring me to have, I hear the food really sucks and frankly no one is worth a felony charge.

So I might as well deal. It sucks but I might as well deal. I know the wench and her minions will never be me, and the only way they can even get close to where I have been is turning on the TV. I know the money troubles will be over before I know it, and this is a new month. I know there will be other opportunities. Hell, the casting director of another opportunity liked my angry status update and said we were best friends. Basically I said life was fucking me like an AIDS hooker up the ass without a condom and if anyone wanted to help me they could jump off a bridge. Then I ended with "fuck you all and goodnight."

This morning Joel Osteen said not to get impatient when things didn't happen on our timeline. I wanted to curse him out but then realized he was right. I just need something good to happen now. I am at the end of my Goddamn rope. I keep saying things can't get worse but they do every hour.

So I guess the weather is warm. Maybe it is getting better and I don't know it. They say this too shall pass. Well pass damnit and stop being such a fucktard, universe, fate, whatever you are.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W, 22nd st. 

A Blog About (Hot) Dudeskis

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

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

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

JUST KIDDING.

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

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

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

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

God had the last laugh.


Love,

April Brucker
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


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