Getting Married In The Morning

Several years ago I was in a push, pull with a self-proclaimed “nice Jewish boy from Bay Shore” who dubbed himself “Isaac The Incredible: International Playboy of Mystery.” Isaac wanted the benefits of being my boyfriend without having to listen to me cry at 2 AM on the phone or kill a spider. The long and the short was, he wanted a booty call. At first I did the dumb girl thing of eating the love crumbs hoping he would change his mind.

Needless to say, I showed up at his house drunk, professed my undying love and puked on his floor like a true woman of grace and dignity. Despite my state, I had the sobering moment Isaac wasn’t worth it and the next day gave him what he deserved, a breakup via text. Isaac never got over being dumped in what he described as a “cold” fashion. He cried all night on his teddy bear that he secretly still slept with (yes) and whined to his mother who called him at 1 AM every night just to kvetch. Normally, Mrs. Rabinowitz was the bane of her son’s existence, but in this case he drove her off the phone. (Note, as I write this I acknowledge my extensive puppet collection and my own eccentric overbearing mother).

As things were winding down with Isaac and I was finding new and better looking bad decisions, I made a new friend named Sharon Northwood. Originally from Dallas, Sharon had come from old oil money. She went to boarding school in Europe and some top notch liberal arts school where she did cocaine on the weekends. After one night of partying landed her in the hospital, Sharon’s family bought her an apartment on 5^th Avenue, doorman and all. She also wanted to reinvent herself as a standup comedian and actor, but really had aptitude at neither. Sharon’s hair was either black, blonde or red depending on her psych med and she defended her too expensive taste in clothing by saying she had “a passion for fashion.” Despite all that, she seemed like a nice person and was a ready drinking buddy so we hit it off, swilling booze after either bad open mics or even shittier bar shows.

About two months after it was over for good with Isaac, Sharon started seeing him. She knew my rather complicated history with him, and asked my permission. I wished her luck, he was her problem now. Right away, Sharon’s struggles with Isaac were nearly identical to mine, mind games and all. Isaac and his modest sexual prowess became a running joke between us. Sharon admitted Isaac had become too much and she wanted to break it off for real. In a crowded swanky Upper East Side Bar, drunk off her umpteenth Cosmo, Sharon proclaimed, “I AM DONE WITH ISAAC RABINOWITZ AND HIS ERASER DICK!”

After that night, I didn’t hear from her again. I didn’t think much of it as I had just moved, was starting a new job, and was starting to hit the road on most available nights and weekends to do comedy. After a few months I texted her to see if she wanted to catch up. Sharon always juggled guys. I was curious to see who replaced Isaac. Radio silence. I saw her walking Toby, her lap dog, around the neighborhood. Barely a hi. What had I done? Was she mad at me?

Just for the heck of it I went to her social media page. In the three months I hadn’t spoken to her not only had she moved in with Isaac, but the two had gotten engaged. Isaac certainly had an eraser dick, because he certainly erased a lot out of her mind. Now I understood why she had cut me out. I was the inconvenient piece of ass that had come before her. If she wanted to play that dirty the bodies would be hitting the floor because Isaac was not only a giant man child but an even bigger man whore. (His social media handle was lovemachine).

To capture the engagement, Isaac had hired a photographer. He had proposed to Sharon on his knee outside of Tiffany’s. Under the photo Sharon put the caption, “S + I = Forever.” However, it hurt. Not because I was mourning the loss of Isaac, but because I felt a friend had betrayed me. She hadn’t wanted Isaac but when she got him for real, Sharon was willing to kick someone who was a good friend to the curb for a walking dildo. It was official. Those two deserved each other. Bye Felicias.

Fast forward, a year later I was enjoying a quiet rainy Sunday in my pajamas, those two imbeciles the farthest thing from my mind. It had been a long week of singing telegrams and shows, and I decided to spend the day in bed as I was feeling really drained when I heard my DM ding. It was Isaac. Something said answering this was akin to Indiana Jones and the Nazis looking at the Holy Grail, but I was bored and will admit curious as it had been sometime, “Hey, what you up to?”

“Chilling, you?”

“I’m about to get married in a few minutes.”

“Congrats. That’s great!” I really meant it, and might I add that it would be even more great if he would go away because this was just getting awkward.

 “You know I still care about you, April.” When I said Indiana Jones, Holy Grail, now my skin was about to melt and my eyes were about to pop out of my head. So I just said absolutely nothing hoping Isaac would take a hint.

Isaac being Isaac of course didn’t get the hint, “I know I am marrying Sharon, but there is a part of me that wishes it was you today, April.” If these words were supposed to make me storm the chapel a la Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate, they surely failed.

“I think you are doing the right thing marrying Sharon. She is perfect for you. BYE!” I logged off. If it was possible, Isaac had made himself an even bigger dufus than I could have ever thought. Fortunately I wasn’t the one waiting at the alter for him, Sharon was. This clusterfuck in a cummerbund was her problem. I rewarded myself by watching a Snapped marathon. After all, I made sure two soulmates got married. I deserved something nice.

A kind of friend Juliana, a would be actress, attended the wedding. She messaged me the next day saying Isaac had left the messenger window open on his computer in The Honeymoon Suite and Sharon had discovered our conversation. According to Juliana, Sharon had a meltdown and ran out of the hotel screaming. To get her to return, Isaac promised never to speak to me again. I was glad it worked out. S + I= Forever, and who am I to deny the math of true love?

Update on S + I = Forever. They moved to Texas be closer to her family and they now have 2 kids. Recently, another old friend went to visit and posted a photo where Isaac looked like he was beaten down and defeated and Sharon looked like she was ready to buy a life insurance policy and make it look like an accident. It gave me hope for my future. No, not the love part dorks, but that these two will pop up on an episode of Snapped. I can say I knew them when. How else can I get people to my blog, duh!

Here I Go Again (Whitesnake)

Last night I had a run in with someone from my past. I used to call her a friend until my ex tried to cheat with her. They both sucked. He sucked for trying to cheat on me in front of my face. She sucked for trying to cheat with him knowing I had a boyfriend. I wouldn't have cared, she's the town bike. Everyone has had a ride. But he was sharing my personal business with her and that's a problem.

Then again my ex is a loser and so is she.

I was willing to let bygones be bygones but last night this bitch stepped over the line. She unleashed a victim blaming post on facebook. It was basically saying the Spacey victim was to blame because he was at an adult party. And the Louis CK victims were idiots for what they got. When I tried to tell her as much she told me I was stupid for calling other people stupid.

This whole thread and reply was so locked and loaded. I wanted to tell her she was stupid for all the victim blaming because back in the day she was always whining about the men who sexually took advantage of her to the point where it was comical. Sure, the guys were in the wrong but she was like the girl in the xoJane article who kept getting into the vans and after her 10th van we were like WTF?! Not to mention she travels constantly and has worked as an escort in the past. Either she is working as an escort again or she is rolling someone. And my belief is despite the song she sings about being clean and sober she's at it again with the drugs and has been for some time.

Sure, it hurt to see her make bad decisions with herself and to keep choosing destructive men, I supported her. I always believed her. I always believe the victim because I have been in the path of predatory men. Read my other blogs. So for her to victim shame was just mind blowing to me because having walked that path and knowing how hard it is, to do such a thing is just plain evil. But that's just me. Defending women and victims. Raising my voice for women who are abused at the hands of a partner. Working on those doggone CODA issues.

An idiot guy she was probably sleeping with, because she has bragged about sleeping with every man on her friend's list, called me a Marxist because he was offended. I explained I was offended by the misuse of the word Marxist and I realized I was indeed an idiot for even wasting my damn time

That's when I calmly told her I had no room for her in my life and blocked her ass. She stole her damn look from a Whitesnake video and now we know why the band broke up. As for my ex, he can have her. At this point he is my shit I flushed a while back. He's a loser and she's a pig. Maybe they can make a race of mutants. As far as I am concerned I should have stepped aside and let the lady win. After all, I was no match for her stupidity and outright abuse of 80s too tight jeans. They deserve each other they truly do. And if he was willing to cheat with that.....bitch please, at least cheat with something that is almost an upgrade.

Either way, my deceased friend Chacho Vasquez said it best, "Sometimes, people are in your past for a reason. And if you look back they are right where you left them doing the same shit and wearing the same bad clothes."

And after that breakup I felt bad for cutting people out. It goes with ending things with a mentally ill partner. Now I don't. In the words of Whitesnake, "Here I go again on my own!"

That being said, come to my show next Thursday https://www.broadwayworld.com/cabaret/article/April-Brucker-to-Debut-THE-LADY-AND-PRESIDENT-TRAMP-at-Solocom-Festival-20171110

And don't forget to buy my merch April in the Desert

People Watching on a Sunday

It was a typical Sunday when Howard and I were having our usual coffee session in the deli. Absent for a while, Howard and his ex girlfriend who things are complicated with operate an air B and B downtown. As usual, the Yemeni counter guy and his Mexican employee were cracking jokes with the plethora of characters that drift in and out. Some of the guys are blue collar dudes, changing shifts and calling the counter guy a terrorist. The counter guy tells them he will blow up their house and steal their woman. We all laugh.

Then some other blue collar guy calls the Mexican dude a board jumper. Of course the Mexican dude says not only is this true but he will steal his woman as well. As I stated, we all laugh. It’s irreverent, politically incorrect, but we are all friends. In a way, it is like if Roseanne or Cheers came to New York, and their safe place was not The Lunchbox or the Cheers Bar. Rather, it is this deli and the glass window and the door are what protects our safe place from the outside world.

Yokels like my friend Howard and myself are ever present. We drink our coffee, have some breakfast, and read the paper. Howard and I found ourselves discussing the Bill Cosby controversy. Personally, after what I have heard I would hesitate to take a pudding pop from the man. Then again, it all pointed to rapist when he worked as a baby doctor on his television show. And anyone who has that much of a moral high ground and is that conservative, watch out. Still, it was fascinating.

As we had this conversation, Howard and I saw this bulldog walk by. This fella was strutting, puffing his chest out. By the way his teeth jutted as well as his distinct walk you knew this pup had personality. As the dog passed, I pointed this out to Howard. Then the dog passed again and Howard concurred. It was amazing how this pooch could have so much personality. As a matter of fact, I have nicknamed that bulldog Sir Winston Churchill. He has officially become Prime Minister of Hell’s Kitchen.

Winston’s strutting was short lived. He was overthrown by a miserable looking, displaced sheep dog with a white shag that looked like it hadn’t been washed in forever. With him was an owner who looked like a text book loser. With a cigarillo cigarette, he errantly blew smoke thus helping to further ruin the ozone. His annoyed dog pooped in one place, and then decided he wasn’t done and popped in another. It wasn’t because the sheep dog’s colon had a problem, rather he wanted to screw with his owner and get under the dude’s skin for not giving him a bath. He sheep dog succeeded. As this was happening, we felt the vibe from the dog that said, “Yes, I am with this loser but I am pretending to be adopted and not to know him.”

The owner did not get the memo, and continued to blow his smoke risking lung cancer to himself and pollution to those around him. His canine companion hung his head in a mix of teen angst and shame. The two continued onward. Howard agreed with me. The dog hated it’s owner. We hated it’s owner. Nobody liked this guy. I named the sheep dog Bernie.

As we looked out the window, Howard and I both agreed one could tell a lot about a person by the shoes they wore. This dude waltzed by wearing shorts despite the warm but not so warm weather. On his feet, he was sporting orange sneakers. “He is just trying to be cooler than he is, and he isn’t that cool.” Howard observed. “That is usually the case for people who wear colored sneakers.”

Howard was correct. I had an ex who wore both orange and red sneakers. Isaac was ever the wannabe and rubbed many a person the wrong way. I was willing to bet this same idiot with the colored sneakers probably had a band in high school and one that probably barely performed now. Either way, this was the guy at the party trying way to hard. Somehow, this dude always had a girlfriend and she had entered the most cheat free situation ever. Oh, and she constantly let him know she could do better. Then his mother probably regularly called him a mistake. Sigh, to the man with the brightly colored sneakers.

Seconds later, our next victim appeared. This gentlemen wore wool socks and sandals. Howard and I observed this was a fella that could commit to no season and would probably be a lousy boyfriend because he couldn’t plan a date. Not to mention someone that you wouldn’t want to hire to work for your company.

Then after him came the girl who was all out in the snow boots. Howard and I surmised this was a chick with a plan. Completely neurotic and no fun, she was ready for any and all emergencies. Walking with her was a chick who had on simple rain boots. She was also a chick with a plan, but much more fun than her uber neurotic friend.

After her came a teenage girl who was wearing a trendy multi-purpose sneaker boot that many of the kids wear these days. With her she was grudgingly walking a dog, and had a disgusted look on her face like someone forced to pick up droppings from her four legged companion who looked less than thrilled to be with her. “She looks like she has a plan, but doesn’t know what it is. But she’s got one.” I told Howard looking at the young woman’s foot wear.

“Oh, she is coming up with a plan, and her plan is to ditch that dog.” Howard observed. I agreed. My friend was correct.

Following her was a girl with nice flats on, clearly not rain appropriate shoes though. Howard and I both agreed that if we were to meet her in real life we would probably like her best. She looked vaguely like Lisa Turtle from Saved By the Bell. The girl seemed pleasant, and there was no way she could ever know that she got off easy under our gavel. Still, if she knew it might make her day while she gave us an ear full for being such jerk offs. But we were behind the glass. She could hear us just about as well as Helen Keller. Not to mention she might be judging us as two losers with no other friends hanging out on a Sunday afternoon.

As I sat there judging strangers, I thought about those I knew and barely liked and what their shoes said about them. Yes, I am talking ex-boyfriends. Sean always wore Velcro shoes, which said he was an idiot trying to be smart and cool but failed like an alcoholic at a field sobriety test. Scott always wore lace up black boots or high top shoes. Both say would be punk rocker, but emphasis on would be because his hair line was diminishing quickly, so he merely looked like a lost old man. Holden always wore work boots, which was appropriate because he always had transient jobs and hitch hiked quite a bit during his sprees of homelessness. Hell No, Joe always wore sneakers he barely tied, which means idiot jackass all the way. So there you have it. The shoes do make a man.

Howard told me this was to be my latest blog. It’s the least I could do for my pal. He hasn’t been around because his internet has been down. Plus he always gives me good material. Here I am hoping church saves my blackened soul. Once I exit the building, there is Howard waiting, eager to bring out the demon in me again. Alas, there is no hope all ye who enter our corner store.

When we die, that is in the event one of our people we are watching hears us and stabs us both, check Howard and I out in hell. The way this planet is going and knowing my fans it is possible anyone reading this blog will be joining us as well. If you do see us, we will be giving color commentary on the new arrivals giving them a crappy start to their eternal roasting. No worries, Satan scouted us for the gig ahead of time.

However, Howard and I don’t get off entirely scot free. He will be forced to spend an hour a week in church, and I will be forced to spend an hour a week with one of my old boyfriends.

And Bill Cosby will have pudding pop for all the unsuspecting pretty ladies.

Oh what tangled webs we weave

www.aprilbrucker.com

Real Love (Mary J. Blige)

Lately, it seems a lot of people around me are in love. Whether it is my male counterpart on Sex From Both Sides John Powers and his lovely fiance Jennifer. Or perhaps it is the rash of wedding singing telegrams I am delivering lately. Oh and one of my sound dudes was AWOL for a minute because it was his birthday, his gal pal's birthday, and his anniversary all rolled up into one. Next month my parents will celebrate being married 37 years which is surreal. And my sister seems to be happy with her man these days. She even changed her facebook picture to capture the two of them.

Not that I have written off love, but a few years ago I had a pretty rough break in that department. Without getting into morbid detail, go to my other blogs for that, I ended up getting engaged to a psychopath. It was him or the puppets. It was my writing sucked. It was say you won't leave and don't leave or else I will kill myself right here right now. Okay this is all I will say about that. I have blogged about it before. I have spoken out about dating violence and how it damages a person. I have made jokes about it in my act. I have been there done that.

For a while I sort of settled for guys. Settled being the word. I sold myself short. Sometimes I was with a loser because being alone sort of terrified me. Sometimes I was lonely and then grabbed the first person who said something nice to me. I dont know. I entertained getting a prison pen pal for a bit. But then as my deceased friend Chacho explained, "They will want you to send them lots of money and buy them expensive gifts when it should be the other way around. I found this out when I wrote a murderer myself and sent him my naked pictures when I was eighteen. That is not what you want in a boyfriend." At that moment, the prison pen pal fantasy was dead.

The other night I ran into an ex of mine, another one. Actually to call this dude an ex would be generous because it would mean that he meant something to me. He is married to someone else and has a kid with this woman, which made his behavior all the more inappropriate. Anyway, I initially wanted to say hi to another woman standing there and he just happened to be there. So I couldn't ignore him without being rude. Anyway, he starts acting weird and mentions that he knows I am twenty-eight now cause he was twenty eight when we met, and his wife and I are the same age. And then he said, oh yeah, you were nineteen. I wanted to remind him how he led me on and treated my heart like monkey meat but whateves. Anyho, this woman is telling a story about how she mistreated the best man ever and her amends was simply to nod whenever she saw him. That is when Jerkoff McFee says, "Why can't you do that when you see me?" That is when I informed him he was being silly and was never my boyfriend. So he threw a bitch fit and went inside.

I was like WTF?!?!? Was that really called for? Since our failed outing we have worked together and very well in business. Granted, his wife never cared for me but dude was a Casanova back in the day. Still, it got me by surprise. My only answer to this is that he wished he hadn't screwed up with me, cause now he would be Mr. April Brucker. Granted, his wife is successful in her own right but she is not on National Television as much as I am. Not to mention she hasn't written a book let alone had a signing in an Ivy Bookstore. And she picked up a bit if weight too. Still, for as much as I thought I loved him at the time and for as much a he led me on and just kicked me around, I liked the idea of him. Yes, the older trust fund kid with the big apartment complete with bachelor bar. But I never liked him. He was shallow, self-centered, and not to mention I was much more talented than he was and eventually that would have gotten in the way.

When he went inside of course my buddy that I wanted to talk to asked if I had dated him because he made things so awkward. I told her yes, briefly, but when I dumped him he never got over it.

I ended up telling my mom about this. I said to her, "Mom, I would never think to do anything like this. I would never start anything like this with anyone from my past. Even if they totally dumped me I would either not engage or I would be polite. What is his malfunction?"

That is when my mom said, "Yeah, you never would. It is cause I raised you better than that." Snap. This is why I am convinced my mom totally rules.

And then my mom told me I had my pick of guys, to shop around, and not to let this fool get to me. My mom was so right. God or whatever is upstairs always speaks through my mom, I am sure of it. Either way, it made me think. I don't want to be that person trapped in the past like the dude who tried to throw shade at me. I want to be in the present. Yes, there have been some guys who have treated my heart like monkey meat but I let them. Also, now I am smarter. No one treats my heart like monkey meat.

In the words of my dearly departed friend Chacho, someone who was always looking for Prince Charming with a thousand Mr. Right Now's along the way, "Some people are in our past because we passed them over. When we look back they are right where we left them, doing the same shit and wearing the same bad clothes." My buddy was right. It's a good thing I didn't marry that sore loser jerkoff.

But my mom is right too. I have my pick of men. These days things are good. My clips are still on TV on the regular. My audiobook is almost ready to download. I have started a new hosting gig for ITTV and am part of an awesome family of women. Sex From Both Sides had a celebrity guest commentator last week. Pitching some exciting projects, more on that later. I deserve someone to treat me nice damnit.

If I am meant to be single, so be it. However, if the universe sends someone nice my way I won't turn them away either.

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

Ms. Wannabe Strikes Again

I have had a hateraide filled last twenty four hours. A girl known as Ms. Wannabe has struck again. Lets just say the foul bitch has stepped over the line. I don't want to get into detail about what happened because why? I know it was pointed at me. I mean, the whore made a video where she had a character that had the name April getting her head beaten in. Not to mention since I have been binge video making she is starting the same shit. I know, scary right? Part of me is scared and knows I have to watch my back against her.

I don't know what is more foul. The fact this cunt face has ripped down the posters at the club I perform at. The fact she would put up a video when I did. The fact she spread rumors that I was drinking again and stalking her which wasn't true, and then had the nerve to corner me at a painfully terrible pAArty to pick my brain about my ex as she bragged about her drug use. (For the record, I am not a stalker. That involves focus.) Then she had the nerve to say that I was bad mouthing her boyfriend. Meanwhile the bitch is ripping off my wardrobe. Not to mention whenever I put out a video she feels the need to put out one. Oh and she and my ex's psycho mama were talking shit about me on a very public site. Now she is copying my binge video making and made a video where a girl named April was getting her head beaten in, oh and it was filmed in my ex's room. And on top of that she is talking about writing a book. And the whore got on a TV show that I was on and talked about all this money I got which was a LIE!

I would be a fool to ignore this. She clearly wants to be me and it is scary. I have done nothing to this woman except once upon a time I dated her asshole boyfriend. Whateveski.

Yesterday I was pissed with her. So pissed I almost sent my followers after the cow. Yes, I have eight times as many followers as that cow. Oh and her latest is that she is trying to work out. Did I mention she is weight training and kickboxing, two activities I like? Yes, that cow has just jumped over the moon and landed on my bad side. Yesterday I was stewing like hell and wanted to send some friends to beat her ass too. She doesn't know who I know. She messed with the wrong person. Plus bitch is such a poser. She brags about being caught for shoplifting. You were caught you dumb ho. Plus the one who is caught and brags usually was the dumb fall kid who was made to hold the stuff. My friend Chacho filled me in on that crap when she started her shade. Not to mention she claims she is poor when both her parents are well educated and her aunt is a millionaire.

THEN I DECIDED SOMEONE THAT STUPID WASN'T WORTH A FELONY CONVICTION.

Being stalked in this way is emotionally damaging, especially since I have done nothing to this woman except once upon a time I dated the loser she now spreads her legs for. I don't want him, she can have him. But for some reason she has it out for me. My mother says he still pines for me. Let him. Since ending it with his ass I have dated celebrities and have been on television countless times. I would never be seen with someone that ugly in public.

After talking it out with friends I have decided not to even print this woman's name or to assail her in public any longer. I am already farther than she will ever be. Acknowledging her would be letting her get what she wants, to sniff my underwear. Not to mention that it would be feeding into her sickness. There is a part of me that is afraid because she is so obsessed with being April Brucker.

But then there is a part of me that takes pity on her. While I call her names it is because she is a bully. Her behavior is that of a sick child. She wants the attention and she wants to fight with her boyfriend's old girlfriend. If they all died and went to hell I wouldn't care, but she is obsessed with my every move. I mean, before this whole thing I was friends with her. We laughed and joked and hit it off. She was funny, talented, and had the singing voice of an angel. Better than what I have for sure. Yet for some reason she sees being obsessed with me as her route to happiness.

For as hard as it is for me, I have to look away. I have really torked up my privacy settings so she can't see my stuff and I can't see hers. Unfortunately, someone like that makes you feed off their drama and then in turn you become obsessed with what they are doing-hence this entire blog. I guess for as much as she is angering me, it is a wake up call that comes with a growing career and fan base. For the ten people that love you twenty hate you. And she is one of the twenty that does.

I remember when he was alive I was telling my friend Joe about her shade. He stopped me and said, "Tune her out, April."

That whole circle of people that she is associated with is uber toxic. Since things have started happening for me they have either tried to rain on my parade or have slandered me in public. To me jealousy is a shame. It is time wasting and all consuming. It gets me no where. Having been on the other side of it I can tell you it is ugly and disgusting. But then again, these people are ugly and disgusting.

I don't wish any ill upon this woman. There is a part of me that hopes her cat gets rabies and claws her fucking eyes out while she sleeps. But then there is a part of me that feels deep sorrow that she doesn't feel that she is enough, and that feels she has to be someone else in order to appease her boyfriend. In that part that feels sorry for her, I know there is a deep pain in her heart because she feels the need to stay in a relationship that is clearly unhealthy and where she is deeply troubled and unhappy. Someone who changes their appearance to look like someone else, takes on an identity that is not their own and abuses drugs is someone who is struggling deeply. They are someone who is profoundly troubled. I can only pray God protects others from her but most importantly her from herself.

I have given this woman too much attention already and cannot feed into her. But someone melting down so quickly is just painful to watch. Especially in a lot of ways because I feel so responsible. People tell me these things are going to happen. I have what they call followers. I am starting to have what they call a career.

There is a part of me that is worried she will beat me at my own game by trying to be April Brucker. But she can't and won't. Being someone else is hard work. Changing your whole personality is hard work. This will probably be her first and last big TV appearance too. I mean, it is the best a glorified extra will ever do. I only wish her the best and much success. I just want her to stop stalking me and trying to be me. Not only is it spooky and scary, it is heart breaking because I knew her before this and I know she is better than that. And to do this over a guy? One who is not all that good looking. It isn't just pathetic, it is beyond the pale.

But now I have to tune her out. I need to focus on my growing fan base. The fact my TV shows are on netflix. The fact I am one of my bosses top workers. The fact I have a growing family of puppet children. The fact that Lauryn Hill's former sound engineer is reading my audio book. The fact I am April Brucker and never have nor never will feel the need to be anyone else.

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