Washing Dishes

Last night it was a thunder storm. It looked majestic from my New York window. I thought about going out, but why? Most of the time on rainy nights any perspective comedy spot is cancelled, and when there is lightning I run. It’s for the simple reason that I had a cousin get struck three times and live. Of course, despite his freakish feat of strength he’s still doing better than his sister who got knocked up in high school, and has subsequently gone on to have children with two other different men.

Because it was stormy out, he was the perfect night to catch up on house keeping. That has been the theme lately. To get my career to the next level, I am now working with a manager. She and her assistant have been wonderful so far. For the first time in years, I have someone in my corner and I am not alone. I also have a mentor I meet with every two weeks, who is an awesomely brilliant woman that is helping to guide my career. While I never know what is next for me, I don’t feel like I am wandering in the dark anymore. I also had a new acting reel made, something I have been dragging ass on forever. I also listed my DVD on EBay and this week was the accidental poster girl for their facebook blast.

Add in yesterday, before the storm, I was walking down the street. I saw a man who is a cabaret legend and highly regarded. He told me that my show/book signing event was a joy. And he wants to do it again. He complimented me and everyone I worked with. This man has seen everyone live and in concert from Judy Garland to Barbara Streisand to everyone else. This made me so happy I almost cried.

Despite summer being as busy as it was, now things are starting to slow. From April-July, I didn’t have a moment to myself. Rent paid itself, which was a change of pace from the financially interesting winter I had. However, being busy means you don’t always know what is going on in the home front. For the last several months my refrigerator has been in some state of broken. At first, it would work and then just wouldn’t, but would work again. I have an upstairs neighbor who sometimes runs too many things at once and blows a fuse. Sometimes my ice cream would melt, but then things would work again. Finally, one day my refrigerator stopped working altogether.

Actually, that’s not true. The bottom part didn’t work at all, but the top part that was a freezer didn’t freeze food but still kept it cold. I was so busy I didn’t have time to pay attention. I figured maybe I just needed the top part to work. But then I started to get horrible stomach cramps and diarrhea. Some of me thought it was overwork and fatigue. Yet it kept happening. Someone told me that the way I was living with my semi-working, nonworking appliance could give me Legionnaires Disease. One of my character defects is that I need to have my back against the wall and the shit hitting the fan before I take action. This was most definitely unmanageable. So I called my super Spooky Juice.

Spooky took a look at the appliance and said it was old and I needed a new one. He filled out the paper work. A crew of men who work with my super took the refrigerator from my apartment. Thing is, I have lived there for sometime. When things get busy, I don’t do my dishes. Instead, they somehow get left in my refrigerator or oven. Then I wonder why I have no clean dishes. Suffice to say, there were some interesting dishes removed from my refrigerator with some interesting food particles on them. Oh, and my oven had quite a collection, too.

The oven trick is one I learned from my mom. Truth: Things got busy in my house when I was a kid. Plus we would have one of my eccentric relations or one of my dad’s clients feel they could pay a surprise visit. In order to make it look like three kids didn’t live in the well kept home on Foxtail Drive, my mom stashed the dishes in the oven. Of course at some point the dishes were removed and done and no one was any the wiser.

One day my dad found out and he was fuming.  Actually the correct term is shit fit. It was quite by accident, and I had no idea why he was looking in the oven in the first place. My dad in the kitchen would be like John Boehner at an LGBTQ function, out of place. Anyway, he discovered the dishes, flipped, and wanted to know how long it had been going on. My mom explained the hiding place was only temporary, and the dishes would be done. Meanwhile, the man had only cooked twice in his life: both for my mother on Mother’s Day. Once he burned the food entirely, and the other time the eggs had a bunch of shells in them.

We had a dish washing party/my dad acting as drill sergeant. It was terrible. I mean, my sister and I were in dance class. My brother was starting football, and my mom was our driver. All my dad did was work. No one was home. What did he want? 

After that, my mom came up with a plan, keep Dad out of the kitchen. So as soon as dinner waned down, he was in front of the television on an exercise bike or lifting. She guided him gently to the basement away from the kitchen, and my Pops was none the wiser.

So I had a little dish washing party of my own. The thunder storm fumed, and Soul Food reruns played on youtube. Yeah, they are a black family, but I can relate. For starters, anyone with a family can relate regardless of skin color of ethnicity. Sure, the Joseph Sisters are nuts, but when the going gets tough they do stick together. I have an aunt and uncle like Max and Kenny. I also have two aunts like Teri. Oh, and I have a cousin like Bird. So the show sucks me in. Maybe we don’t deal with the race issues per se, but we deal with the same family theatrics.

As I washed dishes, I cursed my existence. My life had gotten big and busy. When I wasn’t working, I was in a class of some sort furthering my acting and writing. Maybe if I would have taken care of what was in front of me, I wouldn’t have all the shit going on in my body that I do. Of course, my refrigerator leaking has gotten a mouse or two in my apartment. Yes, Mordeci who will not die. This Rasputin-esque creature has alluded capture and death. He already escaped one glue trap, and now knows the trick. Now he just taunts and annoys me. Of course, the exterminator came earlier that day. My house was a mess. Maybe I earned an “A” in my graduate level writing course, but in the domestic department I fail with a flying color wheel.

Then with my soapy hands my love life ran through my head. I have been having a no strings attached relationship with online dating. Sometimes I go on and smile at a dude, and sometimes I just don’t. The whole thing was my mother’s idea. She has been obsessed with the idea of my sister marrying Boomer, and now she is also obsessed with my nonexistent love life. You see, things have been so busy on my end for the last several years that the thought of a lover has never even crossed my mind. Most of the time, when I get a moment alone that is what I want, a moment alone.

The other day some dude sent me five questions on EHarmony. I was in a strange mood. A man who had been a friend to me at one of the toughest junctures of my life passed suddenly-and maybe someday I will write about what happened entirely. The whole thing messed with my mind. So I was still in a weird place and I can be a bit of a devil. There is a place you can fill in your own answers. I did. I told him the ideal date would be him not stuffing me in a trunk and killing me. I mentioned I didn’t care what we did as long as I didn’t end up duct taped and dead. I told him the ideal man was someone who didn’t ask so many damn questions. Afterwards, I felt remorseful and I apologized.

Now he wants to talk on the phone and I can’t. I just can’t atone for my little evil streak. I can’t explain I acted out because I was grieving and therefore turned into a fucking asshole. I can’t. I also want to inform him I know he has some sort of malfunction because he wants to talk to me. No man with their shit together ever wants me. Growing up, none of my hot male classmates wanted to date me, but their dads always did. The class president didn’t want me even though I painfully pined for him, but the kid skipping school with the drug rehab stint did. Even as I got older, the distinguished gentlemen at the cocktail party didn’t want me, but the kitchen help who was a guest of the state for a few years always did and still does. My sister doesn’t have this problem, and neither does my mother, but several of my female relations do.

I suppose you have to like who likes you, and I am the pinup of the month at the local methadone clinic. My female rels feel the same way. You see, they date guys who are so below them that they can be stepped on. Yet they fall for these guys and they get dragged down too. I have yet to be dragged down by one of my male companions but I have come close on a few occasions. In my head I tell myself I eliminated most other vices from my life, and these bad news dudes are my drug of choice. Yes, it’s called codependency, I know. Yet I can’t help but like a bad boy. They think my surprise foul mouth is adorable, and I know how to handle this clientele. Maybe this is why I lashed out at the dude sending me questions. It scared me that a potential man with his shit together might want me and I couldn’t handle it. I still am disappearing on his ass though. The stunt I pulled was a little dickface.

And then I realized I still had more bowls to wash….

Of course what would I do with a decent dude if I had one? I should really invest in a dog cage. That way, he won’t be able to escape. Sometimes I want a lover. I see all these weirdos sucking face in the park. Once, when I was street performing with one of my puppets, we told them to get a room. I thought they were going to kill us. Yet maybe I need someone to get a room with. That’s why I am losing my mind.

On the flipside, my career is busy. I don’t have time to babysit another adult let alone myself. Men are people, and they don’t understand when you are too busy for them. A lot of guys like the career, until I am unavailable. Or they think it is something I will just give up. Maybe after having caved for a short period of time, I am afraid I will cave again. Then there was one with lots of money who told me I would never amount to anything in comedy. Yet when something happens, there he is, the first to congratulate me.

Makes me think of a dude I partnered with for an aborted business venture. We started out as two visionaries looking to make people laugh while we helped them. Truth: He never treated me like an equal. According to him, my dating record was a nightmare. It’s true, it is. However, I can tell someone how to get out of hell and to keep going. Hell, I can even tell them how to spot hell and the licking flames. That knowledge should count for something. Maybe it made him self-conscious of his own shortcomings. Yes, he and his fiancé were in couples therapy and hadn’t even walked down the aisle yet. If you are blowing up in diners and breaking up on someone else’s schedule, don’t get married. We all know that. You think a Hawaiian honeymoon was expensive, you have never been divorced. Hell teaches you a lot of lessons. I don’t recommend people go, but maybe don’t judge others who have been. If anything, they are fountains of wisdom you have yet to tap.

Then of course there was the ex that I cheated on nonstop and treated like crap. I regret it and want to apologize. His wife or girlfriend or whatever that monster is hates my guts though. Maybe it’s because he still wants me. Men like it when a woman treats them badly, it makes them desire her more. Maybe that’s why the dude from EHarmony wants me to call him. Yeah, he likes to be beaten. Maybe he’s not normal after all. Still, the ex who I treated like crap flies in and out of my mind. I hope he’s happier than he was with me. I know he still looks me up. I know he does.

Of course Holden and I are speaking again. He was the last time I said I love you and meant it. We were two alley cats that could have made a home. I had to let him go. He owed back child support, was off his much needed bipolar meds, was abusing controlled substances, and of course had several warrants out for his arrest. These days he is no longer working as a rent boy, but is clean and sober. Holden lives in a sober house, and is currently high on God. I don’t know how I feel about that. I am happy to have him in my life again.

Part of me thinks there could still be a chance with someone that I truly loved, but the other part of me is content to have him as a friend. Either way, he will always be special. It also still hurts to talk about him. House cats don’t understand alley cats. We got each other. Maybe this is why I like men who are bad for me, because I am an alley cat and so are they. An alley cat and a house cat never go together. Maybe this is why I cheated the way I did the last time I had a boyfriend. Maybe this is why I can live in shit until it backs me up against the wall. Maybe this is why my life doesn’t kill me and my friends are insane. I am an alley cat.

As the thoughts rushed through my head, past merging with present, I put my dishes on top of the temporary refrigerator my landlord gave me. I figured I am a shiteous housekeeper, awful cook, and don’t do dishes. I wash windows. Maybe the dude I end up with can do the housekeeping, cook, clean, and raise the children. I can earn the money and fool around on the street. He can look for my ass, and I can tell him I pay the bills. Gender bending at it’s best. Who’s the bitch now, suckers?

Then I realized my dishes were dry, and my hands had become wrinkled. The Soul Food reruns had also stopped playing in a loop. The thunder storm had calmed. Perhaps it was time for my brain to do the same, and time for a bath.

Sigh.

To Horrendous Housekeeping. 

Love 

April

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

Available on Amazon and through Barnes and Noble

www.aprilbrucker.com

Woman, Womyn, Gender Roles

Being a woman in today's world is a little bit of a trip. You have two people coming at you with two different school's of thought. One is that you need to have the education, the career, the money. Women's Lib happened for a reason and now take advantage of the fruits of the struggle. We celebrate smart women like Hillary Clinton, Sonia Sotomayor, Sally Ride an the list of smart sisters goes on. Here comes the kicker. We take swipes at their looks. We say Hillary has a bowling ball hair cut. Then we assert that Ms. Sotomayor might be a lesbian because apparently she doesn't dress like she reads Cosmo, as if that matters. Oh and they seem to leave Sally Ride alone these days but I am sure there is something. Then there are people who don't make it easy for a career woman. I have been called a bitch and I have been called selfish because I don't have the husband or the family.


The other school of thought is the old fashioned notion that as a woman you need to find the perfect husband, have the dream house, and then pop out the 2.5 children. There is nothing wrong with being a wife and mother. It just seems like some young women are so desperate to meet the deadline that they go crazy, and they marry a guy just for his money. While we may throw stones at Anna Nicole Smith, all women have a little of that in them. It is the way we are raised. Shows like the Real Housewives don't help this. As women it makes us wonder if the career and education is worth it? Why do that when you can bake cookies and get a TV show.

Sadly it seems the middle ground is Sarah Palin. It is sad because I despise her politics. However, people were saying she was an bad mom because Bristol got pregnant as a teen. Maybe she was, or maybe she was a career woman. Either way, there is a price when you have a career. There is the whole you can have both. I have rarely seen it work out, really.

The whole thing with women is that our biggest enemy is ourselves. It isn't the men of the world. Most of the time they could care less. We are so incredibly catty when it comes to each other. Until recently, I didn't have many girlfriends. Not that I don't get along with other women, I just don't like the games. Once I did an all women's comedy showcase and when one comedienne was onstage, the other women simply trashed her. They were like, "Oh, she is doing that joke again. That sucks. Then again, she sucks." And when she got offstage they patted her on the back and told her how great she did. It was as if they smiled and then knifed you in the back as they offered you tea. Needless to say I wasn't social with them for the remainder of the show and don't speak to any of those women now.

Women always try to one up each other too. When we size up other women we say, "Oh, she might be smarter but I am skinnier." Or then there is the, "Oh well she might be pretty but she is a real tramp." Better yet, "I have a better job and more money than that skinny tramp, and I went to a fancier college."

The thing with women too, is that they can get stupid over a guy. Oscar Wilde captures this perfectly in The Importance of Being Ernest, when fortunately it all happened to be a big misunderstanding. I have never been one to fight over a guy, but some women do. I have had friendships end with women because according to their paranoia their boyfriends liked me better. One in particular was a friend from back in the day who I liked, that is, until her boyfriend said I seemed cool. Never met the dude so it's not like I stole him. Next thing I know she was trying to block me from the plans with my friends and saying terrible things about me that weren't even true. I dumped her and I dumped that crew cause they were kind of stupid. But I told her that if I met her boyfriend maybe I would steal him out of spite. She was such a hell bitch she was making it easy for me.

Then another time I found myself in combat over a dude was an ex of mine who was a lawyer. He had a female best friend who was down on her luck that moved in with him. They were just friends, right? Not so much. Next thing I know she was acting like the third wheel every time we hung out. She insisted on coming on all our dates. At first I didn't mind because I liked her, but it got real old real quick. Then she always had some crisis and was always getting him off the phone when he was talking to me. When I would come over the house she would try to start fights between the two of us, and then pretend she wasn't. Oh and her dog always had a health problem that my ex had to drive it to the hospital for. Note the dog always turned out to be fine. I remember talking to a friend of mine who was a guy and he said, "She wants him and wants you out of the picture. They are in love and dont know it." For as much as it hurt I ended the relationship. Apparently, later I learned, she pulled the same shade with the girl before me. Some women would have given an ultimatum. Others would have beaten her head in. I just chose to go. It was the easier, softer way and I kept my sanity.

In college I took several Women's Studies classes. Usually these can be good or bad. I took one about Feminism in Theatre. My second class my teacher found out I did comedy and gave me an article about women in comedy. About how we use the mic as a phallic symbol. At first I thought it was academic mish mash but after talking to some of my peeps we all agreed. That is why when I am onstage I grip the mic hard. I am taking the world by the balls. I ended up loving the class and the playwrights I read. For as much as I think women can be catty as hell, I am actually proud to call myself a female comedian and writer.


I grew up with a mother who was a Title IX Crusader. In college, she was captain of her swim team. They had a sit in because the women's team was denied letter jackets. My mom always told us the secret to success in a man's world was never making it a big deal that you were a woman. I think this is why my baby sister and I are both going into fields historically dominated by men. My sister is going to be a doctor. Over the years she has gotten grants and scholarships. She graduated at the top of her class in high school and will win an award Friday for her work with nursing home patients. When I mentioned she was going to Vanderbilt one of my friends said, "That is a posh residency." On top of that the kid is a champion marksman.

During my journey in comedy I have been introduced onstage as, "This next comedian is a woman." Yes, they can see that unless I am a really adept cross dresser.

Oh and when I mention ventriloquism they say, "There aren't many female ventriloquists." I didn't notice.

My gender wasn't an issue for me really in comedy until I started to see television time. Some of my most vocal critics were male comedians who asserted that I did sexual favors to get on television. Others asserted it was because I was a "cute girl." I was like, oh you thought I was cute after all. But it was heartbreaking that in this day and age when a woman gets a break or two people still assume that. Then of course some pulled shady things in clubs by bullying people to bump me as such. I made the mistake of letting it exist as a chip on my shoulder that grew into a cinderblock. Truth be told, they don't speak for all guys let alone all comedians. Other guy comedians have told me how proud they were that my hard work was paying off.

But some of my most vocal critics were women. One had been an old friend of mine who was like a mom type when I started comedy. Over the years I found she was only your friend when you were below her or when she felt she could take from you. Things happened for me that didn't for her, and the tables turned. I was always supposed to be a lesser being. She blasted me on a message board calling me name after name. There were several things I could have told her, like get back on Weight Watchers. But I thought, nah, my success was punishment enough.

What gets me is a man's misunderstanding of a woman writer. I invited a guy I was interested in to a book event I was having. He asked if there would be, "Angry women like Sylvia Plath there." First off, Sylvia Plath is a brilliant poet. Second, why should it matter? Just because I am a woman writer where in my clause does it say I have to hate men? Needless to say we did not last long. And then there are the other women who think because I am a woman who writes and makes people laugh I have to be ugly. Just because I tell jokes and write books doesn't mean I have to look like I got my outfit from the bag lady on the street. I go to the gym. I am young. I have a cute little body. Shoot me for wanting to show it off.

In my journey I have done some activism. Some of it was as a result of something I experienced as a young woman, and just other things. During this journey I met the womyn. Yes, as in the hardcore feminists. I joined a facebook group and at first the people were pretty cool. Some were kind of nuts and did art with menstrual blood but it was all good. Others were bi-sexual vegans who wrote poetry. But then there were the extreme nutcases. One in particular was an older lesbian who had been a part of the movement early on. She started a thread trying to ban transwomen not only from the group but from women's (or womyn's) rights events. One transwoman logged on and this idiot kept calling her he and kept pointing out that the transwoman was a man and not a woman and needed to go. This transwoman was living and identifying as a woman, not to mention had gotten snipped in Singapore. I asked what the big deal was and this horrible creature kept going after this transwoman and claimed transwomen gave her a hard time. Yeah because you are a tool. And then she went after the younger women on the board saying that they kept with men-the bi-sexuals-and that they were traitors to the gay cause let alone women. I tried to explain to this hell bitch that sexuality was not fluid and I identified as straight. Did this make me less of a woman now? This went on for two days. Finally, I broke my own rule. This woman was so vile that I ended up using the "c" word. Yes, I called her a cunt. Actually I called her Ghangus Cunt. I usually hate that word and detest the roughness but this woman so mean and hateful that asshole, bitch, and mutherfucker weren't going to cut it. I was ultimately banned from the group for my "language." But I am glad. I don't want to belong to any group where she is a member.

What got me is the trans issue took away from the bigger issues like Congress wanting to change the definition of rape for their selfish pro-life cause. Or worse yet, not protecting a woman's right to choose. In there we need to add how to help victims of stalking, sexual assault, and domestic violence. When womyn argue that point it detracts from the real issues and wastes time. I think that's what I was truly disgusted with.

The funny thing about gender is gender is what is in your brain, sex is what is between your legs. That is why I am glad transpeople are getting more rights. When God or whatever gives you one brain and nature gives you another body it was be an unhappy marriage. That is why I firmly believe insurance should cover gender reassignment surgery. My brother ended up working with transgender teens during medical school. As an ex football player, it must have been a trip when he got the assignment. However, he ended up liking it and being compassionate to this group of young people. My brother explained that it was hard because the brain had one idea but again, nature gave them the wrong body. He and my dad were discussing this and my dad asked whether reassignment was better. My brother explained it was world's better.

I befriended a transman years ago who was a regular on my broadcasts on YouNow. During his time as a lesbian she was suicidal and depressed. When he made the change he was much happier. The only thing was he would fall in love quickly and it never ended well. But he was also nineteen. I also have shared the stage with transwomen. One I knew in her male days, the other after. The one who transitioned M2F told me creepy guys were checking her out. I just patted her on the back and said, "Welcome to the wonderful world of being a woman."

The crazy thing about gender roles is I have some male traits. In a lot of my relationships with guys, sometimes I am more the dude. The last guy I really cared about was much more emotional than me, and he cooked and cleaned. He was more apt to discuss his feelings openly and honestly. I didn't even want to go there. Oh and I knew more about sports than he did. Actually I know quite a bit about sports. I love football. I follow MMA. And while we are in the neighborhood I enjoy kickboxing and mountain climbing. My favorite sporting event is the Heismans. Hell, and sometimes I even read Playboy for the articles. I don't get jealous of the centerfolds. If you got the body go rock it. I detest the bridal showers and the such. My house is a mess. I don't cook well. Oh and I swear like a sailor.

My sister is sort of the same. While she is very girly, she is a champion marksman as I mentioned. She drives a car that is more like a truck. The kid is fearless about riding in an ambulance and even rode a helicopter during a life flight assisting a patient. Like me, she loves extreme sports and football. Heisman Trophy Ceremony is one of her favorite events. While she doesn't swear like a sailor or climb mountains, her favorite flicks are action flicks. She is straight forward and like me, wired more like a guy. My sister loves science because she likes facts rather than feelings. According to some we are guys.

Then go to my window. I use cardboard and other loose paper to help insulate my air conditioner. I write angry, pissed off poetry. Did I mention I am a total klutz with a screwdriver? My sister is slightly better but not much. We are both disasters with the drill. When one of my male friends saw my air conditioner he had a minor heart attack and then corrected it.

I am woman hear me roar.

Okay, only sometimes.

Sigh, who knows?

Love

April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square