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I Came,I Saw, I Sang:Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Amazon

Next Public Signing
12/27/2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Public Library
Bethel Park, PA
 

Cokehead Talent Management

A few years ago, I had just dumped one agent/manager and had been without one for a few months. I was focused at the time at being a good comedian and that's all I wanted. At twenty-two, I had lived a bit lets just say. Anyway, I had just made a video and was sending it out. I heard this dude mentioned at some sort of bringer slavery industry showcase. I sent my tape and he said call me. I thought, "Okay, cool."

I went to meet him and immediately we hit it off. He seemed like a sweet guy. I also realized he represented a semi-famous comedian and even more famous trainwreck for a minute before the whole thing ended in disaster. And I had been in the car going to a gig with said trainwreck when they were going to this dude's office to get things like this tapes. Anyway, I was like wowsa. So we talked a little more where he revealed that he was an adult child of an alcoholic and that his ex-wife was some comedian of note. Apparently she too had been an alcoholic and cokehead and that destroyed her career. Plus she wanted him to make her a star and he couldn't cause that's not the way it goes. Apparently they were still friendly. She was now working as a chef and they shared a dog.

The ding ding went off in my head. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?

He also represented someone who leaked some sex tape and dear God, it did the opposite for the dude but apparently his ding a ling was big.

Man gave me some feedback that was good. His attention to detail was lazer sharp and he was helpful. He was just nuts. Everyone I know is. I could live with that. We kept in touch. Whatever. The guy would tell me, call me at midnight. Call me at two in the morning. While it sounds nuts he would actually pick up the phone and give me feedback. It was no big deal with him calling that late. I was either coming home from gigging or needed an excuse to get off the phone with my late friend Chacho who was up to something nuts as usual-something that the less I knew about the better. IT all worked out.

People around me told me stories about the guy, about how he used to pimp out his ex wife who became a drug addict. About how it was easier for female comedians to get gigs with him because he would often demand sex. Hmmm......Never had that experience. And about how gigs he booked were notoriously cancelled. But the thing about comedians who are coming up is that they tell stories about everyone, and you can only believe ten percent of what you hear. One even told a story about how he demanded money from a booking. Of course there were others who claimed never to see the money they earned. A small grain is true-some however is fabrication and a resentment against those who did not give them gigs for one reason or another.

One woman I know worked with him extensively. She was barely ready to work on the road but was going through a rough patch with her husband. Said main character in the story was offering moral support late into the night. From pep talks to gigs, this woman who had a solid five minutes was on a roll. I thin you can read between the lines on this one.

One time I called him and he flat out said that he could not talk, his former partner had tried to rip him off and they were currently dealing with the police. I wished him luck and we talked later. What could I do? Everyone is show business is crazy. Some more so than others and you just learn to deal. While he wasn;t the dude who was going to make me a star he was someone I was meeting on the way up that could get me there. Plus he had a good sense of humor. He was just crazy.

Anyway, eventually he did see me perform and like me and I got a gig out of the deal. Much like Madonna, the dude changes his appearance quite a bit. He gains and drops weight like Oprah with the coming and going goatee. He had come to one of my shows and taken copious notes without me knowing it. Weirdness. The dude promised me press that never materialized too. I called him once before I left and his number was disconnected. I emailed him and he said the phone lines were down in his building. Sure that could have happened but there was no storm or power shortage at the time. Hmmm....

It was a weekend outside of where I grew up. My folks were away and I was on the otherside on the city (easily an hour and a half outside of where I grew up) plus I am world's worst driver, and they were not paying me enough to rent a car. So I was in a hotel. The club owner, notorious for taking pornographic photos of women, picked me up and asked me to pose off the bat. The entire night he defended his work and asked me about my sex life while telling me the art of stand up was dead. I wanted to ask him why he owned a club and why not just operate a strip joint? It would accomidate all of his interests? By the end of the weekend the man had grown on me. Still, this was one for the memory box.

 I had travelled all day and was tired. I figured the emcee would let me relax. Oh no. I was both opener and emcee, bitch work. For the most part they were older people who HATED MY GUTS. Some of the other folks liked me but one woman remarked that I was so terrible that she felt bad for me. She had terrible teeth so I felt bad for her. Most people in that part of town do.

The second night was extremely hard. My family came to support and the mic died on me not once but twice. My first half of the set was spent with me trying to work with a mic that kept dying because the owner was too much of a cheap ass to buy a new one, and the second half was a bunch of undrunk people who werent big drinkers laughing to be kind. Everyone was very nice afterwards and complimentary though. My aunties and uncles liked it.

I got back to New York and that's when the real show began with the main character in this tale. He asked me how it went and I told the truth, I always do. Anyway it was like whatever. Then he sent me weird message after weird message with sexual suggestion. I was like lose your number cause not only are you ugly you can't do much for my career as it is. A few months later I was doing some show at the club that I put on TV who as a thank you fire me, although that would happen down the line, and was at the bar getting a drink. The bartender at the time was bi-polar but we were friendly. Usually he gave me free cherries cause he knows I am not a drinker. Off his meds and with his boss around he yelled at me.

I apologized and left and when I turned around this dude appears and says, "What's up, April?" In a sinister tone. He had changed his appearance yet again. I nodded and bilked it. I have seen him in passing a few more times sleazing around various places. Usually when I see him I duck. I know he has worked with some folks I knew who either peaked quick or were on their way down and sliding quickly, especially after being dumped by some bigger fish. And since then I have heard other stories of his McShady.

Since that time my path has changed. I don't tour as much because it is useless unless you are a household name. Not to mention there is no money in it unless you are a big star, and most of the time you tend to lose money that you don't even have. While I still perform, it is more or less in the city and even then I am discriminating about where I appear. My focus has been on getting on television, getting in the movies, publishing my book, and maintaining a career in that vein. In between being a reality star, recording artist, and author I am now running in different circles with people who could help me. And my attitude is now I don't chase you, if you want me bitches call me.

Anyway I was riding with a friend of mine who mentioned someone we knew and liked was working with this cat. I hadn't heard the name in sometime. So I recounted my experience and my buddy said, "Oh yeah, Cokehead Talent Management." I was like what? He was like, "Oh yeah, big old cokehead."

I told him maybe not but his ex wife was. My buddy responded with, "Yeah, he was a big old cokehead and he got her hooked." Jaw drop open. Now everything was explained from the call me at two in the morning to the continually cancelled gigs to the money no one ever saw cause Flaco was getting it to the disconnected phone line and the big spikes in weight gain and weight loss. Not to mention the  high level of drama. I had never spent enough time with the dude to know he had a nose like a snow blower.

I took it in. My friend was correct. Not to mention I was now glad the arrangement didn't work out. While I am indie I don't mind it. Actually it cuts out the middle man. A time may come when I do work with an agent or manager again, but you have to be careful.

I wote this because I was telling this story the other day. While he might be a rat cat and all those things, Cokehead Talent Management makes for a good story. I can say I heart the man for that reason. Yes heart, as in he's a hot mess and I don't deal with him but he cracks me up because he is so overtly himself.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com

Book signing tonight
Hoboken
Symposia Books
510 Washington St
7pm xo

Walking With Faith

The other day I went to see the show of my friend Billy Hipkins, For the Benefit of Miss Jennie Gourlay. Billy like many theatre professionals has had almost nine lives in the profession. Basically, we have one dream and the universe has another. He has been an actor, dresser for Phantom of the Opera, playwright, back to performer and now solo performer. For as hard as he is on himself, I feel from time to time that he has more of a career than many of the people who are so called stars. Man has done everything.

When you see a friend’s work it is either really good or really bad. There is no in between on the gamut. When it is good you are blown away. When it is bad you congratulate them for “taking a risk.” You tell them it “needs polished.” You want to be honest but not brutally so. After all, they are friends, right? You might need a favor someday-remember?

Billy put so much of himself into the piece. It was funny, poignant, and personal. Billy’s ability to soldier on and wear many hats in the theatre left me feeling inspired. It made me feel as if I could. In the words of Barack Obama, “Yes we can. Yes we can.”

As of late I have been wandering in the land of career uncertainty. While I feel on one hand I should be a part of the New York Comedy Festival, I am still banished from a world I was once a part of. It was a mixture of things that made me become the bastard child. For one, I am a woman which is already a strike. I was told his once by a potential manager. Second, I had a puppet. Third, I was ambitious. That seemed to be a deadly combo for some. Especially the women who think I just simply sleep around and the sexist male headliners who view me as an open pair of legs and luscious pair of lips to give them fallacio when they have little to show as far as instrument and career.

Yes I was banished. I put my home club on TV. They fired me. I was bitter and I still am. Actually bitter is the wrong word. It’s more like I have been fucked hard. Fucked out of what is mine and fucked out of what I believed to be my dreams. Jennie would have had her big night but Lincoln was assassinated. Maybe she knows how I feel. Maybe she doesn’t.

Since being banished from the community I once believed I was a part of, I have done a lot with my life. I wrote a damn book and published it. I also recorded a song that was number one on the internet for five weeks. Not to mention my career as a talking head for younow.com, my series on Koldcast that almost got picked up, and my short that made the Manhattan International Film Festival. In there were my other videos and a musical I collaborated on. I also did some poster girl work, and became number one at my telegram company.

But the question is, where does a former reality tv star go next? Where does a self-published almost star do after she is published and is doing signings? How does she get to the next step? What if she doesn’t get what she wants when she wants it?

I have said this before. I don’t know where to go. Should I start doing standup again, the depressing open mics where I know I don’t belong. Aside from having TV credits and have worked with the best I should not be paying for stage time. Not to mention I am more talented and qualified than the regulars at those second tier clubs where I am seemingly banished from. Sure, I still do alt rooms and stuff, but for the most part don’t step on the stage unless it is a venue that I like, unless it is a show produced by a fan, or if I am getting paid. The club dates aren’t coming in like they once were. Part of me misses not performing as much as I once did and remembers why I loved performing when I hit the stage. Then I remember as I continually get cheated and bumped aside, in part because I am a woman, an independent, ambitious woman, why I don’t do it anymore. But the gift strangles me and sucks the life out of me. I am funny damnit. I am outgoing. They said be me. Well being me got me banished.

One manager I worked under at my old home club, a bottom feeder, told me that we all had dreams in this business and we had to settle. No, you settled, you gave up on yourself. I expected a flagship club to scoop me up. I was funny and on TV. No such luck. Should have been a man. Am I destined to perform again like I once did? I don’t know. Depends on what God wants for me. Sometimes it seems like yes, sometimes it seems like no. The signals are so confusing. Can you be banished and have a home somewhere at the same time? Maybe.

Of course then there is the talking head/personality route which made me realize immediately I wasted a lot of years slaving in the clubs. I was bumped aside for youtube celebrities and people who had nothing to offer but personality. But it also gave me a second breath at life. I had been so angry when my home was the dingy, dark basements. When I was a talking head I was happy and inspiring. Gone was the bleeding angst and in it’s place was a care for young people. The selfishness was replaced with a concern for them, their feelings, their words and their issues. Armed with my puppets I became an activist. I had dreamed of it but never felt the pull. I wasn’t afraid to say that there was something wrong. I was a popular talking head too. But things happened and I took a pay cut because well, they wanted to spread out funding. It was too much of a cut for all the work I did so I said, “Buh bye.”

Part of me wants to go that route again, but I don’t know what to do next. It showed me I could do a syndicated, weekly show and get paid for it. Where to go next with that dream and goal, I don’t know. Despite my chasing no other offers popped up. Maybe if God wants it for me he will throw it in my lap.

Then there is the acting route. I went to college for it, and while some people continue to study I got burnt out on classes. BFA means that either you can act or you cant. How many more classes do you need? I did a lot of acting in college of course, studied with the best teachers, and did a bit of stage out of college as well. My pilot on Koldcast almost got picked up. I did some commercials too. Even had a commercial agent a few years ago. There is a part of me that misses the stage and misses being taken seriously as a performer.

But everyone in NYC is an actor. Everyone does the method. Get me more napkins. Which way to Broadway? I can act quite well but so can everyone else in this city. If God wants that for me he will tell me. He goes in and out with that dream.

Then there is the writing route. I won writing awards in school and initially took to standup because it was a chance to create my own work. I blog all the blessed time and wrote  a book. Actually, I wouldn’t mind having a career as a screenwriter and novelist. I am good at it. While my writing is not for everyone, an artist’s paintings aren’t for everyone as well. It would be cool to write for Letterman or Conan or even weekly on a sit com. Would love a weekly column somewhere as well. I could do gigs if I wanted to, or if I didn’t want to that would be cool as well. People respect you more as a writer. They believe you are smart.

Drawback, there is a part of me that loves being onstage and I could never give that up. End of story. Who says I have to? Still, in a way it feels like you do. Plus again, it’s another field where there are a million people going for the same spot.

Lastly, there is music, the venture I got into this past year. Where my song was number one on the internet for five weeks. Where I surprised myself. While it should have been obvious because of my job as a telegram person, I never knew I had the voice I did. My songs sounded so good people wondered why I wasted my time with the comedy. I did too and did a lot of music. It was fun. It was great.

But the drawback is that I actually have no musical talent naturally. My cousin is a genius with the trumpet.I can barely read music. Not to mention competition of the people who are supremely talented is steep.

But seeing Billy made me realize one thing, everyone’s journey is their own. Billy trusted the process and had an idea. He wrote it, performed it, reworked it, performed it again and it has taken on a life of it’s own. Billy has his feelings about his career. His life. He has poured himself into this piece and it is paying off.

Billy is having his day and his recognition as a performer. He has taken the reigns and it is marvelous. As I see him ask if Jennie Gourlay is happy and examine her life and make an impromptu hoop skirt from the match box track, I feel inspired. Not just to create but to trust the journey. Billy trusted the journey as he had all his lives in theatre. All the different facets of being a theatre professional. He has embraced soldiering on,and therefore I embrace it.

I don’t ask where to go next. Now I know to trust my gut and follow the light. Billy trusted his gut and followed the light. Whether God wants me to be an actress, ventriloquist, comedian, singer or writer or all at once, I have to stop asking questions and trust. I can’t ask where to go but just ask to be guided and I will follow the spirit wherever it takes me.  I cannot question the destination but rather embrace the journey. I can't keep shaking my finger when I don't get what I want but rather just be thankful for what I have, graciously accept what I need, and be open to all my nine lives whatever they are. Billy has been and the returns are marvelous.

His journey with this piece has been a rollercoaster,sometimes happy and sometimes frustrating, but it has been worth it had as a result he has a brilliant one man show. Props to him. He is an example to all young performers.

Much like Billy Hipkins I will walk with faith.

Love

April

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

877-Buy-Book

www.buybooksontheweb.com

 

Come to my signing tomorrow

Hoboken

Symposia Books

510 Washington St

7pm xoxoxo

Come Eat Some Cookies and Buy My Book This Thusday

Come eat some cookies and buy my book this Thursday

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

Symposia Bookstore

Hoboken

510 Washington St.

Come eat some cookies and ask some questions

There will be puppets

7PM see you there xoxox <3

In case you havent seen them here are some screen shots of my Amazon Pop Ups and other photos

 

Princess Dropped Down to Earth

The last twenty four hours have been something else. Yesterday my phone started ringing again, yipee! I got a telegram and didn't think it was a big deal if I left the house looking a little bit of mess. My winter coat was tattered. While white is a terrible choice for NYC I liked the color and design when I got it. I'm a woman. There is a part of me that strives to be as smart as Sandra Day O'Connor and Hillary Clinton but I have the vanity of Marilyn Monroe and Mae West. What I am trying to say is that when I see something pretty that's all I see and the common sense turns off.

I got to the London Hotel and was directed to the Hyde Room. When I walked up the stairs I saw a gaggle of girls. Apparently One Direction was in town and they were all camped out. As I am climbing the stairs and see these teeny-boppers one who was quite pretty asks, "Are you the puppet girl from My Strange Addiction?" I told her yes and shook my head gently. She mentioned she had watched my entire episode on youtube. Then again this generation is all about the YT. Anyway she's like, "You acted like you knew me." Well you have seen my episode, met my puppet children, and technically met my mother and sister so you know me. Why not?

We kabbitzed for a bit and they asked if I had puppets. I pulled Sonny out, my puppet boyfriend. Cause they were young I kept it clean, well we did. Anyway they asked how the show had helped me. I don't bring Sonny on dates anymore. They asked how Sonny felt and he said relieved. They also said I deserved love because I am a beautiful woman.

AWWWWWW!!!!

Anyway they asked what I was doing and I told them the truth, a telegram. They thought that was awesome. But I did mention on my episode I delivered telegrams in order to support my little puppet children, or occasional ingrates as I refer to them. They also told me they met Beiber and he was mean to them. Then again, he had just had his heart broken. They asked me which member of One Direction I liked. I felt like a pedo even thinking of crushing on those barely legal boys. One of the girls mentioned her forty-four year old mother liked Harry and Harry likes MILFs.

I am not eighteen. However, am I MILF age yet? On the otherhand, Harry does have money.

The telegram was a success. I gave the girls my tweedily deet so they could KIT. Keep in touch, I am writing like I am signing a year book now. These youngins.....

I left the hotel and saw a girl who was also there to see One Direction. She said she was coming from the Rockaways. Where she lived they had no power and were improvising for heat. She shared that coming to Manhattan seemed like crawling out of the end of the world zone, the city of the mole people, and re-entering the modern world where there were things like lights, cars, and technology. I asked how she was dealing without electric. She said she was used to it at this point and didnt care whether or not she got it back. Still it was crazy. It made me grateful.

I got home and discovered I might have the oppertunity to have a part of my book published. I also might get a new writing job. More on those later.

MCAWESOME!

So awesome I chirped on the phone to my Mama.

Then I got a nasty email from my bank that I had insufficient funds :( WTF!?!?! I had deposited checks, paypal, and then written my rent check. Granted, it said the transfer was going through and usually did. I checkd my paypal, the money didnt go through. They had usually been pretty good. Then it occurred to me, this was all the fault of Superstorm Sandy, that bitch. I had transferred the money the week a lot of people lost power and when a lot of the banks had computers that were down. Somewhere along the line the money did indeed get transferred, but because the technology had been screwed up because of Mother Nature I looked like a moron.

I called my bank and they confirmed me. The transfer had never gone through. They said they had quite a few people having this issue because of the damage from Sandy to the computers and such. They also said that I had most of the funds in my account and perhaps my landlord's bank had a different policy and may have cleared me. But just in case I was told by them and everyone around me to give my landlord the heads up. This wasn't my fault. Screw you Sandy, insert middle finger.

This morning I had a seven in the morn delivery. I looked like I had rolled out of bed. With my chicken suit on my back I walked down the street wondering when it got so cold. Then I realized it was November. While it seems surreal it had already snowed once, actually we had a blizzard. Mother Nature needs her Prozac. Then again with all the pollution in the world we have made her bi-polar.

That's today's adventure, as in later today. Either way, I didn't lose my power. I just have been put in a place of financial insecurity. I still have my property and my well being. It's just a taste of life after a natural disaster and a prick from a thorn. Still it was an unpleasant surprise.

I found myself walking along in my beat up white coat. My hair was messed up because I had just rolled out of bed. I could hear my friend Roger hissing from the after life, mad as hell in his Chanel with his Gucci, "Stop looking broke and poor when you see me. If you keep it up I will give you a cup so you can beg for change. As long as you are going to look it why not act it?"

I went to get my coffee and greeted my coffee man by the name Boss. It is a term of endearment for our coffeemen and deli people in NYC. He corrected me and said he preferred my friend. Then he proceeded to give me free coffee, a free donut, and free hand sanitizer. I didn't look that bad.

Or maybe I did and he was giving me free things.

I went to deliver the telegram and woke the girl up. When she saw a giant chicken I am sure she regretted every brownie she ever ate in college. Then she realized I was real and for a slit second probably wanted to kill her brother. But then she laughed. I didn't want to kill her brother, he gave me a forty dollar tip.

I wanted to kiss him. MWAH. Maybe he is the hot man and the good man I deserve. I just want someone who has a part time job, minimal track marks, and a GED. It's not a lot to ask for but these days it seems so. Sometimes you have to work around things. Like for example, if he believes he turns into a werewolf every full moon but is a generous provider, just pull the blinds down so he can't see the moon. Solves all your problems.

Walking home I felt good. Everything was going to be alright. The worst was over. I still had my crown; that wasn't broken. My hair was just a little messed. Maybe I need to start dressing hotter in case I am photographed. Maybe next time I pay rent I should write on my check, "PRINCESS DROPPED DOWN TO EARTH" on amount. No money, just a phrase. I am on TV, I have published a book, fans know me and my children. Why should I be subjected to trivial things like bills?

Then I remember even Obama pays taxes and that the US stressed in their Constitution that there should be no royalty.

Either way, I have already gotten to work and got paid and it ain't even ten.

Okay, the hair is messed up, the space ship has crashed, but bitches this tiara ain't cracked.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com

Come to my book signing
Thursday November 15 (tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Hoboken
510 Washington St
Symposia Books
7pm
See you there
 

What is a Veteran?

What is a veteran? We see the commercials with guys in uniform and think, oh the benefits they get are sweet. They march in a lot of parades, and then some talk about the war and are so old that they lose track of the stories. Sometimes we even think of the crazy man up the street posed on his front porch with a rifle in case of foreign attack. Other times we think of a family member and memories of an aunt or uncle flying a flag to wish them luck overseas and a safe return. More ofteh than not they are lost in translation and definition and we think, "Oh, do I get the day off work? Yipee!"

The American GI has always been there. From the beginning of America, since we have gotten our independence we have made ourselves clear. We are a force to be reckoned with. Even after the Civil War, when Maximillion violated the Monroe Doctorine, both Union and former Confederates fought together to give Mexico it's dignity once again. It was because we are America. We rode on San Juan Hill, victorious against Spain and gaining Guam and Puerto Rico under the red, white, and blue. We were there in World War I, fighting in Europe against the Kaiser and helping to end the monopoly of monarchy, letting the world know that the US was there. In World War II we heard cheers when the helpless people were liberated from concentration camps and then raised the flag in Iwojima in that memorable photo. We were there in Korea, to say no to Communism as well as Vietnam. We returned in the Persian Gulf against Saddam to say genocide was wrong. And now we are in Iraq and Afghanistan saying there is a better way, it is called peace and democracy.

When I think of an American GI I think of someone who serves their country and is grateful and humble as a result of their duty. I think of my grandfather, who was in the navy during World War II and told a story about riding the subway with the Japanese troops once to my brother during a report. My grandfather confessed that while it was a daunting trip the Americans respected their so called enemy. My grandfather remarked that while they lost, they didn't complain. If anything they respected those who conquered them and wanted to do everything possible to rebuild their cities shattered and were willing to work with the Americans to do so. My grandfather always maintained that no one wanted to drop the bomb, and those women and children are still in his prayers. Aside from being a veteran he is a fighter all around. A three time cancer survivor and also escaping from a near fatal car wreck, my grandfather is ninety four and still swims and plays tennis. Although not as mobile as he once was, since his eye surgery he is driving without glasses and stayed up to read my book in a single night.

I also think of my other grandfather, whom I never met because he died before I was born. He was a master machinist and was eager to serve his country, however they were slow to draft him because they needed his expertise in building weapons. My grandfather was a part of the troops who dropped the bomb. After the war, he was in Japan doing guard duty. He saw women and children eating out of garbage cans in a city devistated. Whenever he could, my grandfather gave them fresh food, proving while he was a so-called enemy, they were still innocent people. One kid he was on duty with, a hot head, shot and killed a little old vagrant because he believed the man was stealing. Fined a pack of cigarettes, my grandfather was disgusted that he got away with murder and decked him breaking his nose. While the kid never got time in jail my grandfather let him know that he had abused his duty, and that as an American soldier his job as to watch out for people, even the so called enemy.

The American soldier is a protector in a great many ways. My great uncle Gregory, a bit of a lunitic, had been a part of the forces that liberated those imprisoned in the concentration camp. He had heard the cheering from those deemed unfit whether they be Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, Slavs or anyone else. One thing my uncle hated was the Nazi's. He always said that their mission was nothing but pure evil and we lived in a world where no one had the right to decide who belonged and who didnt. While my uncle loved dirty jokes and loved to talk about shooting Nazi's, he had a low tolerance for hate and prejudice. He worked side by side peacefully with blacks before the dawn of Civil Rights. He had fought a war with them. Why not?

Colin Powell once wrote an article for Time Magazine about who the American GI was. During his peace he told a touching story about a Japanese businessman, who unfortunately was interned with his family during World War II. The kid, ripped from his home because of his race and afraid, was crying in a corner. An American soldier, taking pity on the child, gave him a Hershey Bar. Years later, the businessman made friends with Colin Powell and as a gesture of good will, the General gave him a Hershey bar and the man became teary eyed.

American soldiers are heros, protectors, fighters for the forces of good in a world of evil. They are brave, humble, and always ready to take on the next challenge. Unfortunately some of them are also another thing: forgotten.

Yes, forgotten. When Vietnam broke out, many of the kids drafted were only eighteen. Poor for the most part, they knew nothing about the place where they were destined to meet their end except that it was on the map, somewhere near Japan and China, and had a lot of jungle. When they were fighting a war that many feel we had no place in there were people who called them baby killers. There were people who booed them. They served their country and they got the stones of hatred thrown in their faces. In my opinion, as I have seen the legless vets begging for change over the years I believe that America as a whole should be ashamed of themselves.

My uncle had a brother Bernie who was a Vietnam vet. A drug addict who dated prostitutes, he was an easily punchline for myself and my cousins as he carried on with his antics whether it was running from an angry pimp or peeing in public. However my mother said, "It is important to have compassion for him. He saw some terrible things in Vietnam. Things no one is the same after seeing. Be kind to him, there are others in his same boat."

Bernie and the rest of the Vietnam generation teach us a painful lesson, soldiers are soldiers called to do a job. While sometimes as Americans we might not support the war, we must support them. To us they are heros risking their lives overseas. They are in places that are foreign with enemies who have nothing to lose. They deserve our prayers, compassion, respect, and gratitude. When they step off the plane they deserve a hero's welcome. They deserve a thank you.

But then I know a veteran friend of mine who does know how to say thank you and leads the way. His name is Dave Rosner. He is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marines. He is a Jewish Marine which is quite unusual. Dave uses his unique mixture of identities to pursue a career as a standup comedian. Dividing his time between active duty, USO Shows, and a career in NYC he produces shows for veteran's hospitals. Some of the comedians have served while others like myself have not. Nonetheless we all walk away with tremendous respect for the men and women who have served our country. Whenever they served, wherever they served they are always first and foremost in our hearts. They also deserve a good laugh and comedy show like anyone else, and Dave knows that. Dave has also been a good friend, who got me to shop my book around in order to be published when I didn't know what the next step was. A regular talking head on TV, check out Dave's book Full Metal Foreskin about his adventures as a Jewish Marine.

Of course much like my friend Dave I have friends who have gone through officer training like Darren Joyce from my high school. A hockey player and champion boxer, he is using his expertise at math and his good heart not only to protect others but to lead heroically. While possessing a humble attitude outside the boxing ring, he is probably hell to reckon with on the battlefield. I am not complaining. He is a friend in real time and a fighter where it counts. I am thrilled he is in charge of protecting me. In his mix is Jeff Kohler and Bethany Kaufman, both graduates of Annapolis. Both hardworking on the field and off, they are also in officer training as we speak. Keeping America safe and taking our security to the next level. When they are on the job we can sleep, end of story.

I also see my friend Keith Godwin and his wife, a former Army bootcamp instructor making a difference in the community. Keith, a former Marine who used to guard the border between the Koreas, puts on comedy show at drug rehabs, hospitals, and churches. His service in the corps has shown him that the world is not that big. Why not? I always tease him about his wife kicking his butt, but a holy woman she is also a minister. Both use their talents for good and to spread laughter and hope. Both are the epitome of service.

In that mix I cannot forget my friend Rick Carino, a former navy man who once gave me a joke about going down under for a show for the armed forces. Rick is the poster boy for the can do attitude of the armed forces. Once I did a show of his in Connecticut and Rick did everything from fill the place to build the stage. I wondered how he had the wherewithall to carry on such a mission. Then I remembered when one lives under water for months at a time they can do anything. Rick also has a very postive attitude, one of perseverence. Once I was complaining and Rick told me to get over it and get a better attitude. He didn't validate my stupidity, true friends never do. Another time I was going through a rough patch, one that tested our friendship. I apologized and Rick told me it was water under the submarine and time to move on. It was time for the next mission. It was time to keep on going, the attitude that has kept America the land of the free and the home of the brave.

In time the face of the American GI is changing. The service academies are allowing women in. Male leaders have seen the big picture and female leaders zeroing in on the specifics and being passionate about the mission, a fluid mixture to make us even stronger in both war and peace. Also, the tyrranical Don't Ask Don't Tell has been lifted. This means the military now welcomes LGBTQ people eager to serve diligently who want nothing more than to protect this country and to help those who have been abused by dictators around the world. It means people like my friend Martin can not only march in tomorrow's parade, but can also be who he is while we salute him and thank him for his bravery and service.

Tomorrow we must thank all the brave men and women for their service. We must salute them. We must say thank you.

We must also pray for those like my former classmate Russell Kurtz who lost his life in Iraq. While his holiday is in May, he was still a part of the effort, a part of the solution to make this world a better place.

We must also remember that tomorrow is not a day off or another chance to sleep in. It is a chance to show our gratitute. It is a chance to remember that there are a lot of eighteen year old kids who lost their lives so that we can complain about the president, vote, and use our first amendment that we all freely throw around and thanklessly abuse. When we complain about how we don't like the president or the laws or whatever, we seem to forget those young men who fought in Europe, the Pacific, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan. Now let's take a moment to remember how we got our rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Let's remember who fought overseas and gave us the strength as a whole to say that monarchs abusing power and a dictator deciding who was fit to be a part of the human race and who was not based or religion is wrong. Let us remember how they brought those lessons back because they fought together and now as a nation we say racism, sexism, and descrimination against LGBTQ people is wrong. By being brave they passed the gift on to us so we can use it day to day as Americans. So we can say yes we can, meet challenges, and make it through anything.

It is a chance to remember what a veteran is.

Love April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book

Come to my book signing Thursday November15
Hoboken
Symposia Books
510 Washington St
7 pm
Portion of proceeds go to the victims of Sandy
See you there xo

Things Never To Tweet About

1. Assasinating the president. Yes, there are genius's who actually tweeted about this. Granted, they were white trash that couldn't spell, so their Dukes of Hazard approach was quickly stopped. Not only is President Obama a good man, a father, and a leader who defends the helpless but he is our president. Not only should you not want to assasinate him, but then you go a step further to lay out your hole filled plot on twitter. The dynamic duo went a step further to say it was a joke. Well the secret service missed the punchline because they arrested them. Needless to say Beavis and Butthead ain't laughing now.

You wanted to joke about assasinating our wonderful president. WELL YOU JUST PUT THE ASS IN THE WORD, SONS

2. Your greviance with any race or ethnic group. There are people who did this. From the moron on election day who referred to Obama using the n word to many others, the world does not care who you hate. I have words for you ignorant bastards, hate is wrong. But let's go a step further, not only is your tweet hateful but it is moronic. It shows that yes, while you do not like Jews, blacks, Spanish people guess what, the world as a whole hates you. You have nothing to offer except your stupidity. Do us all a favor and jump off a cliff. #encouragedumbhatefulpeopletoleavethisplanet.

3. How the world is ending now that Obama is president. Yes, I am talking to you Victoria Jackson. Yes, you Jesus freak. I have news for you, you lost the election. The world is making a statement. Your bigoted God is dead and you have killed him. The God that lives and loves created women and gays and wants them to have rights. Jesus also called me too. He hates you, thinks you are fat, and says you should be running on the track instead of running your mouth about politics you dumb bitch.

4. Your boyfriend/girlfriend problems. Yes, he broke your heart and he lied. All men do. Yes, she only wanted you for your money and left you for a guy who had more. Women suck too. But you suck as well. It's because you are tweeting about it. Now we want to dump you too. End of story.

5. The latest episode of the Jersey Shore. Snooki gets herpes again. Oops. the Jersey Shore no longer exists. While Sandy was a tragedy for many, at least we don't have to be sentenced to the Situation's stupidity for another season. The natives of the shore have lost their homes and livlihoods, lets let them keep their dignity.

6. Your bathroom activity. I don't want to know.

7. The latest person you slept with. I am sure his penis was big and I am sure the bitch had a sweet ass pussy. Yes these were real tweets. Yes this is too much info. How do you think the rest of us feel when we read them. Question, how is your house continually rocking while mine stands still in the middle of the night? On second thought I have seen the people going into your house and McYuck Yuck.

8. Inside jokes with your friends. They aren't funny and we are even less amused.

9. Bible verses, I am talking to you again Victoria Jackson. We realize you feel you have a close connection with God. But it is so close you need to keep it to yourself. You make anyone who believes in God look bad, so bad that God says to his buddies Buddah and Allah, "I don't know her. She is just a crazy women I give my food and spare change to. Sometimes she even cracks me up by eating crayons."

10. Generalized meltdowns, yes I am talking to you Mr. Trump. You have lots of money and too much time on your hands. We really don't care what you have to say. You are a big mouth with too much money, a sucky TV show, and a scholarship fund for women who like to shake, jiggle, and do a lot of coke. Instead of having a meltdown where you show us your infintile level of intelligence coupled with us wasting our time by reading it, instead you should make your fake hair look a little more convincing. After that go for a run. You are getting a little fat. If you still feel upset take that money and pay for a shrink. You have billions, you know where Park Avenue is, pay them to listen to your bullshit, Donny boy!

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com

Come to my signing Thursday Nov 15
Symposia Books in Hoboken
510 Washington AVe
7 PM
Portion of proceeds got to American Red Cross to benefit Sandy vics

Weathering the Storm

These last two weeks have been difficult to say the least. Last week Hurricane Sandy hit. While my neighborhood was not devistated, it seems like I was left out. I have sort of survivors guilt because so many lost so much. The trains were down so I couldn't work. Then someone got my paypal info and subscribed to some dumb magazine taking what little money I had. There was some money supposedly coming to me for my book but got the wrong info and am getting it next month. On top of that I did a project that while good for my career and gave me tremendous exposure. However they are selling the project, getting lots of dough, and I haven't seen a dime.

On top of that my stalker is harassing me again. I had to get the cops involved before and now I am scared again.

When it rains and pours.

The Romney supporters keep crying the blues. They lost. It's ironic that they are crying the blues because they are red staters, lol. Why is it that pro-lifers can't be tolerant of anyone else's point of view just as the so called Christians? I consider myself pro-choice and am very tolerant of people who are pro-life and evangelicals. I just don't tolerate hate and bigotry and people who don't want others to have rights. That's all.

On top of that I am facing a lot of career uncertainty. My book was just rejected from a collection. I found out it would have had a better chance had I been more established but the lady was nice and they told me to keep in touch. Actually at first she was sort of bitchy but the more I pressed her she was helpful. It was a learning experience. On the otherhand, I don't know what is next for me at all in the scheme of things. My book is being submitted to stores and no answers as of yet. Do I want to know the answers? A film of mine might be distributed but might is the key word.

I don't know what is next. Things have been weird with the job because of the weather. Although this is not nearly the longest things have been uncertain for I am ready to hit the damn roof. I am already in end of the world mode.

On top of that I don't know which direction the universe is pulling me in. I book standup shows again and they are either cancelled or for three people. Then there is some activity with the acting but not really. Of course the book is sort of red hot. There might be some TV stuff in the works. I just don't know what to do next. Do I go do shows where I am wasting my time performing in front of three people? Do I do the auditions again for various projects only probably to get lost in a pile? Do I try to get my own radio show? Do I pursue the writing route? Do I keep a meaningless blog where I whine.

Of course there is the whole representation question. I havent had an agent or manager in years and have been doing fabulous on my own. But I know it won't and can't last forever if I want to get to the next level. I had one a few years ago but we parted ways and what do you know I get a TV appearance. Then I freelanced with a guy who just sent me out for slut roles cause I was blonde. After that I kind of had a touch and go relationship with someone who is pseudo-revered in the comedy community, and that fizzled out because I think he was trying to sleep with me. Then I was freelancing with a nice lady but she didn't have the connex. All those times I was better off on my own.

Still everything is a fucking headache sometimes. When it rains it pours and sleets and shits. I feel like putting on the Counting Crows and just jamming out. That way I can drown out my fears of failing at my dreams and being a reality star fading into obscurity. That way I can quiet the voice, the insecurity of my mind telling me that I am always destined to be the bridesmaid rather than the bride. I know all I can do is take the next right action. I already work like a bitch in a man's world as his bitch. What do they want? I already am the whipping girl for every ugly woman who wants to believe I am dumb because I look a certain way. What do they want from me?

I really am at a crossroads. It is the fool in the deck of tarot. I don't want to stay where I am but don't know where to go. I dont want to quit, I have come too far. Still where to go? Do I do the acting route? Do I tour again? Do I pursue the writing for TV shows? The doors are creaking open and closed and each has a masked wizard.

But November has never been a good month for me. In 2004 I was heartbroken over some moron. In 2005 I was in a roommate situation where everyone was using drugs on the regular and they were turning against me, not to mention my relationship with my then fiance was turning abusive. In 2006 I was running from the abusive ex who was stalking me and investing in a seperate mailing address. In 2007 I had just stopped drinking, using diet pills, distructive eating and was losing my damn mind. In 2008 the market popped and a job I depended on dried up. In 2009 I was broke, poor, and came down with a stomach virus that almost killed me. In 2010 I was dealing with the aftermath of the death of a good friend from drugs. In 2011 my house was robbed.

On the flipside December, Christmas, has always been when I come out a butterfly. In 2004 around my heartbreak I decided to perform comedy. In 2005 I got out of my bad living situation and started getting better comedy spots. In 2006 I turned my fear of my crazy ex into comedy. In 2007 I did my one woman show for the first time. In 2008 I opened for Aretha Franklin. In 2009 although he turned out to be crazy got a road gig from said manager in my hometown and people started to talk about my good sets. In 2010 I filmed a show called My Strange Addiction with my puppet children and was asked to do the press tour around Christmas. In 2011, a week after the robbery, my episode of Pig Roast with Otto and George aired following Layover and Chef Roble all within the same week. I began to become familiar with O and A fans as well as that comedy family and they perhaps turned out to be some of the sweetest, most supportive people I have encountered in the game.

While the city has been steeped in disaster it is getting better. The L train is rumbling. People are getting their power back. Life is returning to normal. FEMA is helping. When people can volunteer they are. We have been banding together, being kinder to each other. We are New York.

I have no reason to complain. I have a home. I have power. I have a job that is returning to normal.

Still I am in disaster mode. I am tired of bad news and bad weather. I want something to smile about. But we must have snow, sleet, and hail to appriciate the rainbow.

Like everyone around me I am weathering the storm.

I have no choice.

We have no choice.

Like all storms whether snow, sleet, hail, or shit and sometimes all at once this too shall pass.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com

PS. For all my bitching I will give you a new photos

 

Fan Photos: Highlight Libby J

Hi Poppy seeds, sometimes you all do fan art of me. This week's poppy seed artist is Libby J, a talented musician who was numero uno on Reverbnation for almost one month!I am flattered to have such a fan. Check out how she made your Mama Foxx look red hot.

So poppy seeds if you want to create fan art I will gladly publish it in my blog

 

Love,

April

 

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

www.buybooksontheweb.com

877-Buy-Book

Also on Amazon

 

Come to my signing November 15, 2012

Symposia Bookstore in Hoboken

Portion of the Proceeds go to the Red Cross for the relief of the Hurricane Sandy Victims 

Jesus Wrote My Blog: What He Thinks of the Election

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

I am hi-jacking April's blog today to clear up a few things before the election. Some of my children, the ones on the short bus, claim to have read my book. Many cannot read to begin with so they probably listened to the book on tape version. But let's clear the air about the Bible shall we? For starters, I never wrote it. The Bible is basically a diary of the happenings of life before and after me. I am just that important, what can I say? I have millions of followers coupled with an absentee father who let me get nailed to a cross. My mother was a Virgin. My father was a carpenter. What I am trying to say is that MY STORY HAS BEEN LOST IN TRANSLATION MANY TIMES. Some people added their own spice and some things got mistranslated in general. I have been in Hebrew, Latin, Greek, and English just to name a few. Cool, huh? Random House will you give me a book deal?

Now that we are on the subject I have never, ever disrespected women in my scriptures. There has never been anything said about a woman's right to choose. I think women need to choose to respect themselves and have fun but be smart about it. After all, I shacked up with a lady of the night and she was one of my best followers.

Also, I never said anything about disrespecting gay people. Let them be gay. Let them marry men and women. As long as they are decent people. Gay men created Broadway and make pretty music. They make the world a more beautiful place. Lesbians are the best plumbers, contractors, and stage managers there are. Plus they have a monopoly on softball, volleyball and basketball. God made no mistake when he made these decisions. Did I mention they wrote a musical about me? Oh gosh I am melting. Hugh Jackman come on over!

This same misunderstanding and hate was the catylist beind the anti-Civil Rights movements in the South. Many preached that I said that blacks were better off as slaves and subserviants. I never said such a thing. If anything, in case you haven't heard the blacks make better music in their churches and I have more fun there. God also gave them the ability to make great music and to play basketball and football. Racism disappears when there is money involved. The devil created racism and God created money. You decide which one wins.

We have a black president right now too. He's got my vote.

As for our Jewish brothers and sisters, they might not believe in me and that's fine. They cook well and their mothers nag and I empathize because I grew up with a Jewish mother. That is why I know the importance of hard work, discipline, and balancing my check book. When they get to heaven I always make sure they are my accountants. God makes no mistakes.

I like the Arabs too. They believe I am a minor profit. While some people would kick and scream it's like being a huge star in America but only a supporting actor in Japan. I can live with it.

I feel like a woman should have the right to choose. No one goes to the abortion clinic because they are bored on a Thursday.

I feel like the gays should marry. Let everyone be excited about planning the wedding.

I feel like there should be socialized healthcare. Everyone regardless of who they are deserve to be cared for by a doctor. In case you did not hear I love all and come in the form of a beggar from time to time. That is why all my children should be cared for.

Pat Robertson is not my creation. He is an alien.

Mitt Romney is not a Mormon but secretly worships the devil. I don't take it personally, Satan needs her fans too. What, you thought the devil was a man? Come on, something that angry and deceitful must have some hormonal influx once a month.

So vote wisely tomorrow. Also, keep those affected by Sandy in your prayers. They did nothing to deserve this devistation. My father is doing his best to deliver. We all are. The end of the world is not coming you morons. Instead we have a few hundred more years of this. My dad is having too much fun with his toy creations, I am just walking on water to keep in shape, and the angels are playing poker. If the world ends it will be the end of our fun.

Son of God out

Prayers for the Rockaways

They call the Rockaways the sixth borough. Technically they are in Queens. However to get to the Rockaways you have to take the A train to Lefferts transferring, and then take another A to Broad Channel. From there you take an S to wherever you need to go. It's their local subway shuttle that is sort of phantom operating when it wants. From there you hit the streets and are greeted with the locals, mostly family type people.

There are Orthodox Jews who mainly don't make contact with outsiders. Cloistered, they are like the Amish. While not unkind they keep to themselves because we live in a world full of prejudice and hate. There are the old time Italian American families, trapped in a lost time where they use the Soprano hair grease and treat strangers with kindness and food. Lest we forget the surfers, surfing in wet suits all year long. The streets are quiet and the people are kind. Not to mention it is so beautiful by the water sometimes you forget you are in NYC.

What is happening with Sandy makes me sad. Whenever I have gone to the Rockaways the people have been nothing but gracious. Once I delivered a singing telegram to a chocolate factory out there. They gave me a hair net and everything. The trekk had been a long one, but the journey worth it. As a thank you they gave me two hundred dollars worth of chocolate. All thanks to the Madelaine Chocolate Factory. Willy Wonka and Charlie would have been jealous. Not to mention they made sure I got back to the train safely.

Another time I was delivering a singing telegram too. It was around the New Year. It was for an old school Italian American Family. They were a tough audience but got into me. They made me work for it which I like. Anyway, afterwards, the woman who ordered me gave me some food and said, "I think I have seen you on TV." And then she told me she knew me from TLC. She mentioned she was a fan of mine and asked if she could take a photo with me and Sunny, one of my puppets. I said sure and we snapped the pic.

Another time I had a detour that way and it was late. A homeless man was making a roucus in the station and trying to talk to me because I was the only one there. The MTA worker in the booth had the option to leave, it was late and he wanted to go home to his family. While the homeless dude wasn't violent, simply going on a rant about how Sarah Palin was probing his brain-a serious problem-he wanted to stay there so I was safe. He also called the proper authorities so that the man could go somewhere like Bellvue where they could undo all of this evil genius on behalf of the woman who can see Alaska from her backyard.

In the wake of Sandy I read about their devistation. It makes me sad to know they only now is FEMA geting there. I have power, I have running water, I have food. These are things these people can only dream of at the moment.

Apparently things have gotten so bad that there is looting. People have made bows and arrows. Thugs dressed up as Con Ed workers are knocking door to door to rob people. There is no fresh milk and no ability to get food for drinking water. There are people stranded without homes and proper clothing and it is freezing.

All week I have been whining about my cabin fever. Like a brat I have been shaking my fist at God saying, "Make this go away. I want to go out and play and work and make money." The truth is, my life is alright. As of today I am working again. My power, heat, and water were never lost. My internet was wonky which made me indignant. But overall, I have nothing to complain about.

As I selfishly ask the Spirit in the Sky for what I want, I have to remember right now some people would kill to have what's in my posession. I have to include the people in the Rockaways when I do my prayers. What is happening to them is truly unfair. Everytime I have dealt with them they have been gracious, generous, and hardworking. They have the toughness of New York City without the machismo. We neglect to think of them because they are so far away from everything, except when we need a beach to go to.

At times like this we have to remember Con Ed truly has the power.

Mark Twain used to say, "The devil is God when he is drunk."

I think in this case Jesus is smoking some angel dust.

Either way please keep the people in the Rockaways in your prayers. The Lower East Side and the East in West Village now have power,light and heat. The subways are running almost normally again. Jersey is getting their power, heat, and light back as well. Now it is there turn.

I guess what infuriates me most is that Furor Bloomberg was using a generator in Central Park for the marathon but yet so many people went without power. The marathon is cancelled and so many runners are whining when they can just enter another road race. There are people reduced to living like the children in Lord of the Flies. They are in a place like Rockaway. Maybe these selfish fitness buffs should look at a map. The Rockaways are part of New York. They are not lost. They pay taxes like everyone else. Just because they are farther out doesn't mean they deserve to be treated like they don't matter.

In this crisis, as New Yorkers, and as a country, we must not fall apart. We must not let our pithy worries cloud are minds. We must not argue about politics giving ourselves headaches over mainstream candidates who will eventually sell out. Instead we must help our fellow man.

In the immortal words of Winston Churchill, "It is no use to say that we are doing our best. We must do what is necessary."

Love April

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

877-Buy-Book

www.buybooksontheweb.com

On Being Powerless and Being Grateful

Powerless is not being able to do anything about a certain circumstance. Or in the case of many New Yorkers it is being without power. Actually it is both. Downtown is a ghost town. Traffic lights are not working. At night it is pitch black as if we have approched the world's end. In some parts of Queens there is pilaging, especially the part where there were several houses that burned. Parts of Jersey such as the shore are under water. Some people are stranded without power, food, or heat as we begin to approach winter. It is bottom line, bare bones. When you hear the words FEMA you know it is a disaster.

Everyone has been cooped up including myself. Not many people have been able to go to work because of the transport situation. Then there are those with cars who are getting to work, but it is almost useless to go because there is no gas. Several waiters I know are taking cabs from the outer boroughs but by the time they get to work and get home they have burnt up their earnings. When I say there is no gas we are end of the line there too. At six in the morning during my jog I saw cars miles long to get to the gas pump. A woman and a man were screaming at each other. The woman said, "Asshole, I was here first." The man responded by calling her a fat twat. Cars were beeping loud enough to wake the dead already supposedly walking the Earth on All Souls Day. Asshole, twat. Can we wait to exchange profanities until we have all had our coffee?

There have been the buses, overcrowded. One woman I know who I call her Porcelin Doll because she lives with a much older boyfriend and has no mind of her own and is always on channel Goody Goody took three and a half buses to work. I told her stay home. She said, "What am I going to do, sit around?" Well you are bus sick now so yes. But perhaps this Goody Goody who makes me gag did have a point.

For the past few days I have been grounded. No work because the subways have been down. The phones have been dead. Anywhere that people are able to go they are packed like tuna in a mercury filled can. I am living on my laundry money because I am not working. I am drinking bottled water and living on canned food. Until yesterday my gym really was not open so I wanted to deck someone, lose my mind, and then accidentally kick a puppy. I hate being grounded. I hate being home bound. I hate being out of work. I hate the fact that it is not my fault. I want to shake my finger at God and scream, "After years of struggle I was on my feet, making progress. Now none of my contacts are answering their phones because you took their power away!!!!"

Then I have to remmeber I am blessed. I have power. I have water. I have heat. I have a roof. There are so many people without. The trains are starting to run. My phone is starting to ring again. The power will be restored Saturday. My life will resume soon. Some people are without. Some people dont have homes. Some people dont have power. There are children freezing. As I selfishly shake my finger at God for my proverbial traffic work in my life, I also have to remember to unselfishly pray for the families who are getting aid right now. They need the grace and mercy of whoever is upstairs. I just have cabin fever. These people are truly powerless. They didnt ask for this. They really can't control their situations. I am grateful my problems are only luxury problems.

As I sit in the land of self pity I ask why me? I have been through so much in my lifetime. At twenty one it was the abusive boyfriend who stalked me. At twenty four it was being near the poverty line and career disappoints that made me wonder if I ever had anything going on. At twenty five it was the death of a good friend from a long time battle with drugs that nearly ripped my heart out. At twenty six it was being stabbed in the back by people when the tide started to change in my life and not knowing who my friends were as well as the death of another friend from suicide. At twenty seven it was the horror of having my house robbed and being stalked by a fan to the point where I had to get the police involved. Now it's a natural disaster. I ask why me? Then the answer is why not me? It's called life.

I also find myself in gratitude because I have food, clothing, shelter and heat but also a lot of people around me who care about me. Whether it is my fans around the world or friends in the city or family members in Pittsburgh everyone has been emailing me, calling me, and texting me with the same question, "Are you okay?" Friends have been inviting me over as I have been selfishly losing my mind online. I have felt peace and relief like I am being cared for. In all this chaos I feel okay.

In this disaster I also see rays of love and hope. I see people giving food and shelter to those who are without power. I see emergency workers going into dangerous conditions to make sure families are okay. I see workers going to work even when gas is low to try to provide for their families. I see the MTA working to get the water off the tracks and Con Ed to get the power back so the greatest city in the world can come back to life.

Then again I realize we were always alive. We might get knocked down but we keep slugging. When the power comes back we will all be back to work. We will all go back to our luxury problems. Slowly we will forget what happened, filing it in the back of our psyche under bad memories.

However we must not forget. It is times like this in our lives that we truly forget to be grateful for what we have, because the things we take for granted may be taken away at any second.

Love April

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

877-Buy-Book

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Vampires, Witches, and Werewolves Oh My....

Twenty two was a crazy year for me. It was full of all sorts of adventures. Actually misadventures is a better word. Call it the punchline was April being stupid. I was downtown and getting drunk. It was me and two guys I had sort of known but didn’t but never really saw after that. I had done two good shows and they had sort of asked if I wanted to go out drinking. I said sure. In this evening doused with Jack and Coke they asked if I wanted to go to a party. I was getting drunk, it was Friday night, I had cab money. I thought, “Why not.” Sure I would have a hangover but what gave? I would have fun, right? Plus like most parties it would be sort of lame with guys who thought that they were God’s gift to women. I would entertain their BS, get drunk some more, fascinate everyone with the fact I was a ventriloquist, and then go home.

However, no amount of liquor who lubricate me enough for what was to come. We went to this club where the party was to occur. I still remember it was what was then Avalon. To give you a background Avalon was what was the former Limelight, the hang out of Michael Alig before he killed his drug dealer friend with a hammer, chopped him up, and then bragged about it. It was only after his torso washed up on the shoes of Staten Island that things began to look grim. Before the Limelight was a nightclub it was a church. The building has some crazy albeit evil history. I felt chills as I approached. This wasn’t going to be my typical party.

We got in and I was greeted by a doorman who’s teeth were filed to look like fangs. I pointed out that his teeth looked like fangs and he said that he knew and laughed. I asked him why he did such a thing and he said it was because he was a vampire. He was committed to his vampire house and that was that. I was like, “Okay.”

We walked in and we were greeted by people who had odd names like Zade and Dax. This was long before the days of Twilight. What was going on? I asked my two escorts and they informed me that this was a vampire party. They informed me that they were vampires themselves, and they told me not to talk to the vampires in red because apparently they were engaged in a vampire war. I began to panic. VAMPIRES!?!? They only existed in the movies. My escorts assured me I would be alright. They informed me my blood would not be feasted upon, but rather they were psychic vampires feeding off their energy.

I didn’t know what to say. Was this the time to mention my mother had given me holy water upon my trip to New York? I had eaten a slice of pizza doused in garlic only hours before. Just as I was pondering these quieries I saw a woman from the rival vampire house stare me down. Her hair was pitch black and her skin was white as snow, or death if you spend too much time in the morgue depending. I looked away. I didn’t know whether to be scared or to laugh.

I turned around to find my escorts but they had disappeared. Where had they gone? Now this was just getting creepy. There was a lot going on in this party in this sea of vampires. Did these people honestly believe that they were vampires? This was comedic and creepy at the same time. The guys were either handsome in that undead sort of way, or they looked like they would have been roughed up by jocks for good reason. The women were either overweight or were scantily clad, reminding me of the line, “Pagan Pleasures” from some old Bible film. This was all much too much for me. I looked around to see if I could escape. Just then the girl from the rival coven approached me. Her long black hair and vacant look in her eyes made her look like the child from The Ring.

“Want me to buy you a drink?” She asked. “Sure.” I said. I had no other friends and she seemed friendly. Plus in a setting like this you needed all the booze you could get. That’s the only way it could ever make sense.

She put her hand on my shoulder in almost a romantic gesture. Smiling she said, “I think you are very pretty.” Was she hitting on me? Was this a lesbian vampire? Where was Charles Busch when I needed him? This sounded like a story that he could only write. I went from being creeped out to being just plain confused.

I stood there speechless. Then the only thing I could blurt out was, “Jack Daniels. He’s the only man that I ever loved.” I just wanted to convey in not so many words that while she was indeed beautiful in that hang upside down in a cave sort of way, I wasn’t ready to get into a lesbian vampire relationship. That entailed a whole new unearthly level of drama. I could picture Thanksgiving and breaking the new to my mother. “Mom, I am a lesbian and my girlfriend is a vampire. She will be sleeping during the day and we will need to use the garage for her coffin.”

She nodded and left. Just then I was approached by a dorky looking guy who probably got his head beaten back in the day at school. He was dorky, underweight, and had glasses that looked like they were taped together. He was just missing his many books and pocket protector. I began to hope much like me, he was close to normal and had accidentally wandered in. I glanced around for my escorts. No where to be found. The dork introduced himself as Raphael. Then he informed me that I should not trust Britta, the woman who was buying me a drink. Raphael informed me that he was a psychic werewolf and against the rules of those in his coven he had begun a relationship with a vampire only to have his heart broken. I didn’t know what to say. Then Raphael blurted out, “She is going to give you a drink. Don’t drink it.”

I didn’t know what to say except did he honestly believe he was a werewolf? Wow. I asked Raphael why he was at a vampire party. He explained, “Vampires and werewolves are cousins. We inner marry and breed so we could be stronger.” My mouth dropped open. I definitely needed more booze for this occasion. Raphael also explained that he was afraid of Britta. Then as she approached he howled and left. Was this for real?

“I want to kiss you.” Britta said as she handed me my drink.

“Have you brushed your fangs?” I asked unsure of what to say. I had never been hit on by a lesbian vampire before. These things were important if I was going to be kissed by the vampire woman who had previously dated a werewolf, especially if this woman had been around. While I had previously dated men, I had never been seduced by a vampiress. Part of me wanted to say no, but the truth of the matter was that she was staring me down, making it hard.

"You are under my spell." She said. And I was. I could barely move. For some reason it was in part the liquor but also some unearthly energy in this place. I found myself wanting to go into the world of the Lost Boys. I wanted to tell her how much I liked men and how I had come here with two guys. But this vampire seductress was working her charms. I began to gulp.

Just then she moved in for the kill. I would have stopped her but I was so stunned that I didn’t know what to say or do. In my short life I had never been in a situation like this before. This was the strangest night of my life and somehow the alcohol was not blacking things out and making it any better. As Britta moved in to kiss me I heard a, “Not so fast bitch!”

Britta stared in alarm and I was now more surprised than ever. Standing before us was a womster dressed in black. She had to have been two hundred pounds plus. Committed to the evil chic, she was dawning black lipstick. This woman had never seen sunlight let alone a gym. There must have been a buffet in the bat cave. Maybe she was drinking her blood and dousing it with Hershey’s chocolate syrup after cooking stray rats in loads of lard.

“Another vampire? Or are you a werewolf?” I asked. It was the only question I could muster in a situation like this.

“No smartass, I am a witch. A moon witch and this right here is my girlfriend.” She seethed looking me up and down. "And I see as usual she slums it."

“What?” I asked.

The moon witch nodded. "And for your information she has really scraped bottom this time. I bet you have no magical powers." She snapped.

"The only magical power I have is the ability to stay under two hundred pounds. Something all your spell casting has failed to do." I informed her. Who was this Dungeons and Dragons reject to call me sewer material.

"Well I am going to put a spell on you to ruin your life!!!!" The witch said. Britta looked down.

"From the looks of it you are already ruining your own life with your magic. Your wardobe is abysmal, and not to mention your metabolism runs behind schedule." I told this reject. Now she was speechless. Then again, a shot of reality will do that to someone.

The witch then changed her tactics.“Look, my problem is not with you. My problem is with this cheater right here. First she can’t decide whether she likes vampires, male werewolves, female witches and now you whatever you are.” The bohemith stormed as Britta looked down. "She is toying with my emotions and I can't stand it." I bit my lip trying not to laugh. The undead had some serious drama.

I took a deep breath. “This is all too much for me. I think I need to go.” I said.

“Where are you going?” Britta asked pleadingly. “She doesn’t mean it. We have an open relationship.”

“Back into reality. I am not a vampire, a witch, or a werewolf. I have too much to do like pursue my career. You on the otherhand can frolick in La La land because if you actually believe this, God bless you. I am sure Bellvue has a bed or two ready.” I said as I ran out of the party.

When I got outside I caught a cab home. I ran up my stairs, took a shower and went to bed. When I woke up in the morning I awoke to the sunlight. Touching my bed I was glad it was not a coffin. With that I jumped out of bed and joined the living.

Needless to say I was back to being a straight woman as well. While men don't want to talk about their emotions and want to watch football and scratch their crotches, a lesbian vampire and her moon witch girlfriend was too much drama for this lifetime or any netherworld.

Love April

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

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