Breaking Up With Gel

Last summer I fell in love.

My life had hit the skids. I was on round who knows of a never ending breakup with my former partner, who's mentally ill. My mom and I were fighting a ton. And I was having money problems. So I needed to make myself feel better. That's when I got a gel manicure for the first time.

I instantly became addicted as my nails lasted for upwards of three weeks to a month. They didn't crack. I looked cute. So it was a pleasure to shill out the dough for the powder.

When the gel nails came, it felt like I had come to life in a whole new way. I got off my ass and applied and got into to a grad program I had wanted to attend for years, and found a way to pay for it myself. I began to rehearse and revise my one woman show in a way I never had, and entered The Lady and President Tramp in festivals. I released April Unwrapped, and much to my mother's chagrin began to post sexy pictures. I renewed my health insurance. I began to officially call myself a headlining comedian. I pitched my book to an agent who's shopping it. I returned to legit acting and acting class. I recorded a voiceover demo and am a regular cast member of a radio drama. I became head editor of a genre for my school's lit magazine, the number one student lit magazine in the nation. I became involved in ACT UP and other activism. I mastered full body puppetry. I took my ventriloquism to the next level.

I became more truthful about my labels in my life, too. I began to put up serious boundaries with my mentally ill ex, and told people willing to give me an update on him that none was necessary. I began to cut toxic people out of my life. I began to be a decent friend, sister, and daughter.

I thought these gel nails gave me this super power to be the April I had always wanted to be: tough, powerful, and determined.

I...........

The gel made me feel pretty. Yet my nails were starting to look raggedy as heck. The gel would come lose and particles and dirt got trapped underneath. The gel would crack and it would hurt. The gel would make my fingers feel suffocated and begin to itch and burn. My nails became brittle and frail. All because of my obsession with the feeling this gel gave me.

Overtime the manicures started to work less and less. The nails started to pop off after a week and a half. I went to one lady and she was having a break up with her man and nearly sheered my cuticle off with her machine of death. Then I could never decide on a color. And when I did machine of death lady told me how wrong I was. This was after she scraped my gel off with a metro card and I started to cry because the gel bonded to my nail.

As of this week, gel and I are saying bye for a minute. They are staying on less and costing me more. They crack and it's a freaking medical emergency when they do. They are making my nails brittle. They aren't worth it.

I use I and they like we are two opposing forces.

Really, what made me move forward was myself. It wasn't a stupid manicure but me all along. I know that sounds nuts, but damn it's true.

In stepping away from gel, it makes me realize how much my ex, my health issues, hair loss and other things fucked with my psyche. The nails were the pick me up when I needed them, but I don't need them any more. I thought I was over that bullshit only to pick up more bullshit. I suppose it's the addict or the masochist in me. Hell if I know.

Right now I am back to regular polish. I feel dressed down, humbled, and a little like a crack ho. But I also know this is where I need to be right now with my neuroses, first world entitlement and other nonsense.

I can still move forward and be myself. My vanity just needs to take a rest. I will probably do gel in another few months. But right now, the nails need a break. I need to give myself a break too.

Gel or not, I am good enough gosh darnit!

April Brucker

Mean......

The last two days have been a maelstrom of shit. An old enemy of mine has come out of the wood work. I won't say too much about her but she is a bitch. Actually, I'm not her enemy. She declared me her psychotic enemy. I wasn't aware I was living in a comic book and we were Hob Goblin and Spider Man but apparently we are.

Without getting into too much detail, she has gone out of her way to slander me and lie about me over the years. It's sad. It's truly sad. She has said nasty things about me and the people I care about. And now without getting into it she has done something where she has really stepped over the line. Even for her.

I don't want to talk about what she did, other than the fact that it gave me a terrible stomach ache and nearly made me throw up. I know she has a drug problem. I know she is sober for less than an hour a day. I know she has issues. I know all of this, but it doesn't mean her behavior doesn't suck.

The sad thing is, this is all over a dude. I was with this guy for maybe six months. She has been with him for a few years now. They own property and have a pet. What the fuck does she want with me? I. DON'T. WANT. YOUR. MAN.

This junior high bullshit still gets me down even after all this time. Yesterday my boss says when he meets people like that he just keeps going. My mentor, an ex cop, says during his time in law enforcement he met people who just are bad. I know she has problems. I know this particular ex is part of a circle where they stir the pot. But Jesus Christ why you gotta be so mean?!

This mean girl shit is what costs the Dems the White House. WOMEN turned against Hillary. WOMEN decided they weren't with her. Yes WOMEN sold each other down the river and now our reproductive rights are in danger. Other WOMEN.

This shit is what has held my gender back. Either way, the beautiful thing about the snow storm yesterday was the children running about and sledding. It made me remember there was a big, wide world outside of this fugly bitch. It made me happy. It made me realize she was just a speck of dust in the world. And it made me grateful that junior high was in fact over.

Come see my show
The Lady and President Tramp
February 20, 2017
7pm
Dont Tell Mama
343 W 46 street

Some Jingle Jangle Morning (Mary Lou Lord)

The other day, I got a call from a friend I have kind of become close to in this past year. We knew of each other, but only recently started to hang out more. This past year he went through a terrible divorce with an ex wife who is a real bitch for lack of a better word. The woman fights dirtier than Mike Tyson did in the Holyfield fight. She'll go for the ear.

She did a cheap shot when it came to the house they shared. She an underhanded play when it came to getting custody of his son, lying to the court about how he had a drinking problem which he doesn't. She's an asshole who wants to win at all costs, even if it means using her kid to do so. Not to mention she intentionally quit her job so he would have to pay her alimony. YUCK!

So he was forced out of his house, and moved into an apartment. He misses seeing his little boy terribly every day. I wanted to name their divorce saga Beauty and the Bitch, because this troll has successfully poisoned all of their mutual friends against him, too. Not to mention she has done things to put his career as a musician (he plays concert piano) in crisis several times.


He called me in a daze late Saturday to talk. He was getting used to an empty apartment. He felt lonely. He felt empty. He felt weird. He felt pissed his ex wife had a new boyfriend. No, he didn't miss her. He was pissed this woman was bringing a man he never met around his kid. And his ex wife moved her new boyfriend in. This stranger had taken his place. Yet he was also glad to be rid of the troll he was married to for 15 years.

 It is the pallet of feelings that goes with change.

While my situation is different than his and I don't understand, I identify. You can read my previous blogs to know what I mean. Either way, it felt good to be a listening ear. Change is weird. Change is scary.

Change.

I think in a way that's what attracted me to my current living situation. My landlord, who is very different from my buddy, grew up in NYC when it was really NYC. His stories are colorful. He managed a strip club. As a kid, he and his friends went with the hookers in the neighborhood who would give them free rides. He also had women throwing their underwear in his car. Apparently he was a hit when he was young.

Then he met his ex wife. Yes, she pursued him. Got him gifts. When he tried to break up with her, she hung out with his mom. Then finally after 10 years, 2 kids, and a bunch of changes in her psych meds he left. Now she tries to poison his kids against him. The woman plays ugly too. He wants his teenage  kids to go to college, do something with themselves. She tries to undermines his efforts. She sucks as a human.

When I moved in, it was his family home and he was in between jobs. He was figuring out how to be a single parent to teen boys. He was leaving early to make sure they got to school each morning, because their mother could have cared less. Sure, he's obsessed with UFOs and believes the conspiracy that Michelle Obama is a man, but he's a good dude. Either way, he is looking for work now, and trying to figure out what to do.

Change.

Heck, things have changed for me. A year ago I was talking about getting married. My living situation was much different. And it also looked like I was moving to Europe because I was getting press there, and a few managers even expressed interest.

I had the whole pallet of feelings as shit hit the fan. We always do. Not only was my then boyfriend ripped away by the throws of mental illness and the consequences of the choices of someone who doesn't follow through with treatment, but my heart was ripped out of my chest. My living situation, one that I had been in happily for nearly a decade, went belly up. Thinking about the loss of my last apartment makes me angry but also makes my stomach turn. Europe also went belly up because no one could successfully get me a Visa, and if I was going I was going as a headliner.

A year later, things are very different. Some good, some bad.

My new living situation is safer and cheaper, but the 7 train is a fucktard at times.

As for my ex, I have mostly forgiven him for some of the damage he's done, but the mixed feelings are still there. I get angry, but then I have to tell myself he's sick literally one hundred times. Then I remember his kindnesses, and even his sister said despite his troubles he was the kindest person she knew. Suddenly there is a part of me that misses him, not even to have him back as a lover but just a friend. That's when I remember he can't be trusted and isn't a safe person.

I also get angry about the idiots that weighed in on my living situation and break up. They are out of my life like the human cancers they were.

Obviously I didn't go to Europe, but I am steadily becoming a regular headliner in the states. I am working with wonderful people. My career is not where I want it yet, but it is getting there. Not to mention that while my bank account might not know about how famous I am in some circles, I enjoy comedy more than I have in years. I love getting onstage again.

Sure, the cancer scare sucked but it woke me up and now I am eating better than ever.

Losing everything and applying for aid made me have those difficult money conversations, especially those about the future. Now I'm not scared and want to learn more about how to manage my money.

As I was drinking coffee in an East Village diner hearing two girls bullshit before my 7:45 AM delivery, it felt surreal because that had been my stomping ground in college. I was a Manhattite always and forever. My mom even called me Manhattan Barbie. Alas, nothing is forever.

Thank God nothing is forever. Had shit not hit the fan I wouldn't have gone to the RNC to be a part of history. I wouldn't be working with the cool people I am now. I wouldn't be having fun each time I get onstage. I talk to people about getting paid, and am not a nice girl when it comes to dough. I am more fearless about telling people to get fucked. I am vocal when I have a concern about something whether it's my manager or landlord. I don't wait until my back is against the wall when I can no longer run from the monster.

When the smoke clears, that is when you can truly appreciate the miracle.

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?