Mean......

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santeria (Sublime)

Junior high is supposed to be the worst time in your life. If it is the best time in your life, you are just preparing yourself for blood, sweat, and failure. Yes, I still remember the mean girls. They came to the bathroom, had their place at the mirror, and right away called me fat and ugly. Now these days they are fat and ugly, not to mention unhappy. Kharma is a bitch.

Recently I dealt with an adult mean girl, and it was in a place I thought I could be safe from such bullshit. To make a long story short, she used to be a semi-successful actress, and back in the day could stop traffic. Instead of polishing her craft, she became skilled in giving the ultimate blow job. Then rather than get success by her own merit, she decided to further fuck her way up the ladder and ensnare a successful actor by going off her birth control and saddling him with child. An evil bitch, she frequently threatens to take his kid away if he leaves. When she isn’t doing that, she is telling everyone she hates her child and wishes it had never been born. Yes, the Susan Smith School of Motherhood, Casey Anthony as the head dean.

In the past this Queen Bee aka Adult Mean Girl enjoyed a superiority over me. A pretty kid until she failed to lose the weight from having her child compounded with a terrible, inopportune genetic shake, she was a theatre school favorite who never admitted she trained at a state university above a whisper. In recent years, as her looks dwindled and life has sucked, a payback for being a troll, she has become more miserable. I never had a problem with her until this past week her crazy ass decided it was all my fault.

She has tried fighting with me, and told anyone that would listen I don’t deserve some of the success that has come my way. The thing also spread nasty rumors about how I attained some of the gigs I did, and even tried to start rumors to ruin me professionally. On top of that, she has harassed me by phone and internet, and tried to publically fight with me. I have done nothing to this woman, but work hard. She had a career and ruined it, now she wants mine. My friends, who have seen her carry on, pointed out she was so jealous it wasn’t even funny. Not to mention she has tried to enlist the help of other mean girl types to attempt to belittle me. Yes, those who are about as wannabe as her.

I wish I could say it was easy but it made me sick like it used to in 7^th grade. I was locking myself in my room crying. Midweek I felt myself come to a rock bottom with this wench. Angry and hissing, I told myself if I saw her I might just kill her that’s how much I hated her. That is when I pressed the block button on facebook. Yes, block.

It felt as a peace had come over me, a serenity in a way. Then out of no where, I felt this thing that I cannot describe. It was sort of a sunshine. I had been telling myself I couldn’t block her, we had too many friends in common. But when I did, it felt this peace had been restored and this anger had melted away. I also had this weird feeling in my abdomen. It was like a demon had flown out of my person. Or maybe it was letting go of negative energy. I don’t know. Either way, I slept peacefully, and for some reason my mattress felt as comfortable as an infant’s cradle, swaddle and all.

The next day my head was buzzing like I had run a marathon the night before. I didn’t feel like doing anything, only staying in the comfortable swaddle I had created for myself. When I woke up I still felt peaceful. However, I now had a bizarre stomach ache as if something had flown out of my gut and other things had been torn asunder. Then my boss called me, a Wonder Woman in the Bronx. I didn’t feel like going to Fordham Road. Initially I was snappy. My boss Bruce for some reason was in a good place. This whole thing might not pay well. I mouthed off, which is rare for me. As this was going on, I wondered what the fuck was happening?

I got my Wonder Woman costume, and in a huff went to the train. It was at the bottom of my closet. Granted, I was just in a foul mood. When I got to Grand Central, Bruce called me. He had a Lady Gaga blocks from my house. The Metro North had been running odd, and I didn’t want to chance it. Plus it takes me hours to get into Lady Gaga. I tried explaining this to Bruce, but it didn’t come out calmly. Instead I screamed at him. Yes, I bit my bosses head off. Had we not had the history we did, I would have probably been fired at that moment.

When I got to the Bronx I had a stomach ache and nearly doubled over. Again, it was as if something had flown out of me. I couldn’t describe what. So I got some Ginger Ale. I called the contact Carlos who was a chunky man, and Latino. He came to the station, fetched me, and took me to the destination. Carlos explained that he was a priest in a metaphysical church, and I should not be alarmed if I see Santeria candles. Carlos also told me that he sold oils and other things to the psychics in NYC. A woman who is like a second mother to be is a 10 generation psychic, and at times I have worked as a palm reader.

Carlos explained Jose, the birthday boy was an opera singer as well as accomplished psychic and tarot reader. When not performing his duties at the shop, Jose works as a cantor at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and has toured the world singing opera. When we got to the crystal place, candle shop, and metaphysical church, Carlos again told me not to be scared. That is when I outed myself as a sort of reader. Carlos was thrilled, and I mentioned perhaps he had sold to me during my brief stint as a psychic.

I was taken to the top of the metaphysical church, and sent to a room with Santeria candles to change. I was familiar with Santeria briefly from my friendship with my deceased gay friend Chacho. Originally from Cuba, he dabbled in Santeria a little bit, but he had some friends that were really into it. As I suited up in my Wonder Woman costume, I looked around. In the midst of a spiritual crisis when I felt as if a demonic energy or negative vibe had flown out of me, and a resentment against a complete bitch was making me sick, what are the odds that I would end up in a Santeria shop?

My grandmother and great grandmother pounded the rosary, and my own mother did to some extent. I myself am a cafeteria Catholic, and while I pray, I don’t know each saint or what they do. I would need trading cards for that. While the surroundings were unique and would have scared most people, a sense of calm came over me. Maybe it was the kindness of the people who ran the place, or maybe it was the fact I was getting a chance to sit down. Or perhaps the candles and crystals were one that I had seen in my psychic second mother’s store front? Yes, the woman who taught me how to palm read, and the one that hid me when my ex fiancé was having a break down and I was scared for my life. Yes, that second mother. The one who used to give me food when I had none.

I waited there a while, and usually I am a stickler for my time, but I could have waited forever. As I chilled there, Carlos let me know that unfortunately Jose was busy doing a reading with a woman who was asking a lot of questions. I told him it was okay, take his time. Carlos apologized again for spooking me out, and explained he was a priest in the church and they used their powers for good. I told him it was fine, I knew. I could feel it.

Time came for me to deliver, and they took me downstairs. I went into the store, seeing candles that did all sorts of things. I saw oils and other crystals as well as spell books. They led me to the basement to surprise the Wonder Woman fanatic himself. When I was down there, I saw candles used to summon Chango. Yes, Chango. I had called him Change-o once. Chacho thought this was hysterical and laughed. I know, chica blanca in the house.

Next to me, I saw a bag that said Poppy seed on it. For those of you that don’t know, Poppy Seeds are what I call my followers. It was as if some power greater than myself put it there to let me know it was alright, and to calm down. Work had been kind of slow, which is probably why I fed into the crazy bitch I was having conflict with. I had also been doubting my talents, too. Whatever was pulling the strings, the ultimate puppeteer, was letting me know it was going to be okay.

A few minutes later, they called me upstairs. The Wonder Woman song played loudly, and up I went. Standing there was Jose. He was dressed in a pony tail and a sparkling top. Right away, he expressed that his ultimate birthday wish would be to wear my costume. Jose was thrilled to see me, and I tailored the Wonder Woman song to him. We danced, and he wore my cape. Then I sang an original song about his ability to sing opera and read tarot. The performance was a hit. To top it off, Carlos was his godfather. However, he wasn’t quite his godfather, he was his gay drag godfather. Yes, only in New York.

As this was revealed, I thought of my dear friend Chacho again. Through Chacho, I had a somewhat familiar but limited knowledge of Santeria. Additionally, Chacho had been a ball child, and had a drag godfather as well as drag godchildren. Not to mention he would have been the first to tell me not to sweat the woman making me cry. Actually, he would have just ripped her up. At times like this I missed him. Then it hit me, perhaps Chacho was letting me know he was still around. Maybe his spirit had taken me to this shop, this delivery, to let me know I was going to be alright and not to let a bully get the best of me. Or maybe this is just something random that happened, or maybe it was just something that could only happen to me. Either way, the psychics enjoyed the show.

Carlos gave me a fifty dollar tip. It was one thing that helped turn my day around amongst all the others. One of the helpers from the shop, Beatrice, took me back upstairs to the temple to get changed. Apparently, she had been trained as a dead talker in the Dominican Republic, and those were her duties in the shop in addition to tarot reading. I changed and she got some extra crystals out of a sort of vestibule they had there. As we talked, she spoke to me about some of the people she read, and how as a dead talker she reigned supreme but as a regular reader, she still needed some work.

When Beatrice walked me down to the store, she looked at me and said, “I like you.”

“Thank you.” I said.

“I like your energy. You have a good aura and a good spirit around you. Keep it, and don’t let anyone take it.” She advised.

Just then, the piece of advice hit me like a punch in the gut. My friend Tom once said it best, anger is emotional prostitution. You give away a lot of energy and get very little in return. I had given this lady who had been mean to me an awful lot of energy. Actually, I had let her steal my piece of mind. She was being who she was, a crazy bitch. In the world of mental archery, I was just her latest target. At that moment, a resentment lifted, and as I walked away I felt tears run down my face. It takes a lot of time to be angry, and suddenly I felt as if I had run a marathon.

However, I felt as if a kind spirit had touched my soul too. I felt compassion for her, and hoped this lady found peace. I also hoped she got the help she needed, not just for her sake but for that of her children. Also, maybe she will come to realize raising good, healthy humans is an accomplishment on par with any big time show biz career that anyone could have. I also made amends to Bruce, telling him of my 50 dollar tip. Bruce at first gave me some crap but then he forgave me. At that moment, I felt grateful I get to make people laugh in any and all capacities and get money for it.

Tonight I sang Dancing in the Dark and Cover Me to a Bruce Springsteen fan. Several weeks ago, I sang a Travis Tritt medley with a WWE Championship belt. In between, I get extra blessings from Santeria practitioners.

My life is better than yours. Yah suh!

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

www.aprilbrucker.com

Hey Jealousy (Gin Blossoms)

When I was growing up, I remember my mother once told me, "A jealous child is an ugly child, and I didn't raise an ugly child."

Yes, good old jealousy. The Green Eyed Monster if you will. Things are going alright in our lives until we meet that person that is smarter, more athletic, or better looking than us. Sometimes they are all three of these things in a blender, an overachiever with no seeming faults. Meanwhile, they are human and have faults. We all do. But we have our blinders on. Why can't we be them? Or worse yet, it's that someone we view as inferior that gets the job we so desperately want, the house we dreamed of, or covets the object of our affection. We all have been the target or experienced it. Welcome to this wonderful journey called life.

I still remember when I saw The Green Eyed Monster in action. At the time I was 14 and doing the summer teen program at The Pittsburgh Playhouse. There were two groups, Musical Theatre and Acting. When parts were distributed, I got a decent supporting role despite not having come up through that feeder system like some of the others. One girl got the lead in the musical. A beautiful mezzo, she also had a shock of gorgeous red hair. However, not everyone was so eager to toast her winning. Her fellow cast mates were quick to report on how she was slow to learn some of her lines, had trouble with some of her music, and wasn't as strong as a dancer. They also said she was a "stuck up bitch."

Well I saw this girl whom I will call Belinda in action. None of this was true. Her voice was perfect, as was her acting and dancing. Belinda Carson was one of the only true triple threats I have met in my life. She also came to support our show, and gave me a huge hug and told me how great I was. I found Belinda lovely and talented. These idiots, on the other hand, were looking for dents in her suit of armor that weren't even there. So they took it upon themselves to create little chinks. Truth be told, I was disgusted by all of them. Most of all, because some of my so called friends in the program went out of their way to bad mouth her, I believed she was the bitch they said she was. They were wrong, and when they described her they were really just talking about themselves. It was a lesson to say the least.

High school of course is where that crap flourishes. I remember freshmen year bon fire when two of my friends, both close, decided to fight over a high school guy who wasn't worth it. Needless to say it was a cat fight. The loser guy, like most men who let women cat fight over them, sat back and enjoyed the show. Both of my friends decided they were no longer friends after the hair pulling and stuff. And by the way, Sir Lancelot created this situation by lying to the both of them. Afterwards, both would bad mouth the other in front of the one I was with. It got to be a lot, so much I ended by friendship with both of them. And they were fighting over what? A guy. Big deal. They do the same tricks and all have the same equipment.

And then there was the literary magazine. My first two years, we had editors who decided to trash both love and God poems. Most of the love and God poems were awful. I get it. However, sometimes poems would be trashed based on the fact the person that wrote them was from a "popular" group. One cheerleader wrote a poem that wasn't half bad, but they trashed it because she was a member of the pom squad. Another football player wrote something that again, was actually decent. They trashed it because he was a jock. For a bunch of people who claimed they hated bullying and oppression, it seemed they were inflicting the torture whenever they got the chance.

This is a lot of the reason I didn't enjoy high school. I loved my teachers, classes, and friends. But I didn't care for this drama filled bullshit. Yeah, I had a cable access TV show. Now it is "awesome" according to people that I grew up with when I am on TV. In high school, it made me the butt of snide snips by a bunch of idiots who had no goals and weren't doing anything with their lives. Now people think it's incredible that I am a ventriloquist. But my gym class in high school didn't, especially when they tormented me daily. Oh and people think it's cool when I publish and write books. Winning writing awards doesn't make you popular with ANYONE in high school. This shit was so oppressive that I almost elected to leave high school a year early.I even had a scholarship to a college, too. My Pops told me if I stayed for my senior year I could go to New York.

I can't say I was always white as snow in not getting jealous. In high school there was a girl who was a great singer and dancer that got a tour senior year. I wanted that. Everyone thought she was going to be famous. In my simply wired mind, if she was successful I couldn't be. Truth was, I got into NYU and went to New York. She toured for a bit and then got married. She didn't became famous, but sings in a successful event band. I have my life and she has hers. Yeah, she is still the better singer. Not to mention she has a great husband and great family. I would be blessed if I had a husband that loved me and supported me as much as hers does, and a son who was a third as cute. Yeah, I am a career woman in NYC. It doesn't mean I don't salute and support her gifts.

Things also got a little tense with rivals in high school, especially around musical time. When I got the Wicked Witch lead, there were people who wanted to claw my eyes out. One of my rivals especially did. However, I found myself jealous of her because she was a great test taker and kicked my ass on both the SATs and PSATs. Another rival made no secret of the fact that she wanted my role, but it seemed like she could take it away because her voice was that much better. So yeah, occasionally we all locked horns on the Aztec Ball Court of Achievement. But as time went on, we became more focused on our sides of the street. We went our different ways, and I am the only one still performing. They have fulfilling lives though, and most importantly are happy. Actually, they have grown up to the point where they follow me and support me sometimes. It is a kind turn around. It shows we have all grown up.

In my early days in New York I was guilty of being jealous. I sized my competition up. She was prettier and I was never going to get those spots. I wasn't an ethnic comic, therefore I was never going to get the "easy breaks." In an art form dominated by men, I felt like the doors closed on my fingers like coffins because I was a female. As a prop act, there was no way I was ever going to make it.  Or they were a suck up so they only got the spots in the stuffy rags. As I continued this compare and despair I began to walk a rocky, slippery slope. Nothing was happening and I didn't know why.

Then one day I met one of the people getting what I wanted, and they were gracious and kind. We had a chit chat actually, and we agreed jealous only set a person back. Also, after that chat it occurred being jealous meant you had a fear that there was never enough. You were grabbing for what was there because you were afraid there would never be enough, perhaps you might lose what you already have. And being friends and knowing successful people didn't mean there would be no breaks or chances. It instead meant good energy was around you. As I began recommending friends with certain skills for jobs, they did the same for me.

I began to see there was enough. And I started to focus on my game, my side of the street. I began to see everyone's path was different. Doors began to open. I began to get the coveted spots. I got published in the so called stuffy rags. Most importantly, I began to be happy for other people. I also began to realize every opportunity was not mine. Therefore I could enjoy the skills of others. Some of my coworkers at the telegram company have impressive voices. Other friends of mine can paint and draw. Some write excellent poetry and take fabulous photos. I can enjoy gifts that aren't mine. And they can laugh at my hacky jokes and enjoy my puppets.

In closing, this terrible behavior on the part of others is still difficult for me to deal with as an entertainment person. Several days ago I was assailed by a whacky belly dancer online, whom when I saw her live should have taken the stage name Titanic because her fat ass just sank. She attacked me for no reason, and just went below the belt telling lies. What had I done to her? Then I remembered I performed well and stole the spotlight on a night that was supposed to be hers. (I was just performing well and doing my job, sorry).

Then I remembered my mom saying, "A jealous child is an ugly child, and I didn't raise an ugly child."

Sorry you weren't raised better. Sorry you are such an ugly child. 

Dropping the Rock

There is a guy who lives in my neighborhood who I was once friendly with that I will call Bob. We both used to run in the same circles. I was young and crazy, and he kind of had it together. We were more online friends than anything back in the day. Anyway, it looked as if comedy was going to take off for Bob there for a minute. But then he got into a relationship and comedy was on the back burner.

Meanwhile, I cleaned up my crazy mess of a life and started to gain some momentum. Life became about getting spots, performing, and doing all sorts of things. Bob's relationship, meanwhile, ended when he was dumped like a bag of wet laundry. This changed Bob. He went from a nice guy to a jealous, self-centered, bitter harpie of a man. As I began to gain traction, Bob would correct my grammar online. Then he would take other snips at me, along with his little clique. These were online fights, so they were squashed very quickly. After one, Bob wrote me a three page note about how his life sucked after the breakup with his boyfriend. I knew he wasn't in a good place, and it wasn't about the things I was achieving, it was about the fact Bob's life sucked and misery loves company.

Well the peace was short lived. After a string of good things happened for me career wise, Bob proceeded to very publicly bash me online. This was beyond internet fighting, this was slander. Bob was shameless in his barbs, and was even willing to sign his own name. This was brazen and stupid, because Bob and I had many of the same friends. Much of what Bob said wasn't even remotely rooted in truth. More or less it was about that, in his not so humble opinion, I didn't deserve what I was getting. I didn't do things the correct way. I was never supposed to be anything, and now I was becoming something. How could this be? This wasn't a part of the universe according to Bob.

To make matters worse, my former fiance (yes the one I have the different mailing address because of) started a hate group. Bob had once upon a time defended me against this man. A Benedict Arnold move, Bob joined the hate group. For the record, I was not looking, friends told me. Either way, this move was juvenile. This insight into Bob's mind disgusted me though. A few weeks afterwards, I got some letters from some dudes who came across my videos. They told me they loved my videos, and it had been better than the comedy show they had seen with this unfunny comedian named Bob White. I barreled over laughing. God writes better punchlines than anyone.

At first this angered me. I had done nothing to this man to provoke this intense hate. From time to time, I saw him in the neighborhood and just wanted to tell him off. For as fun as it would have been, I stopped myself. That would be stooping to Bob's level, and I do not stoop to conquer. One time, Bob was walking his underfed dog and gave me this angry look. Then again, these days he's pissed off in general cause what is so good about being a self-centered whiner? Oh, and on a hot day last summer I was passing an outdoor eatery and there was Bob with a friend. He proceeded to speak about me as soon as I was out of ear shot. Part of me wanted to say, "Keep talking, Bitch. You have a good subject."

Today I saw Bob walking his dog. I was talking to a hairdresser friend, and Bob walked by. The dog stopped and went for us to pet it. I was not petting Bob's dog. My friend Carlito did, not knowing Bob or his penchant for drama. However, Bob didn't want to stay too long for obvious reasons. So off he went. I thought about telling Carlito what happened between Bob and I, but I stopped myself. It wasn't worth it, because that would mean Bob mattered. Bob wasn't that important. He was just another wannabe in the sea of wannabes who would always be a wannabe.

And why be angry at Bob? He was holding on to a time that was gone. Jealous people are deep down sad, fearful people. They grab without impunity because they are scared they won't get what they want and will lose what they have. Their belief is that they aren't enough, and there won't be enough. There are enough breaks for everyone, and what is meant for one person might not be meant for another.

As Bob walked off, I saw I had no reason to be angry. I had done nothing wrong It was him who should be ashamed, and rightfully so. He had shit where he ate. Bob is an internet cowboy, tough behind a keyboard but lost and confused in the real world. When I see someone like him though, I take it as a lesson on how not to act let alone how not to be. That is why I go out of my way to be happy for others. Because again, there is enough for all of us. Oh, and I am living and doing well which is the rest revenge.

With that, I found myself hoping Bob would find peace, and therefore wouldn't have to act like an arrogant fool much of the time. That he could find happiness, and therefore stop taking the low road, being jealous of others.

Hey Jealousy (Gin Blossoms)

Last night I did my show at the Metropolitan Room. It was a success. I had a decent crowd, and everything went well. Yeah, it almost killed me. I felt like Rocky Balboa after a fight. My DVD is going to be good. One of the oldest friends I have in comedy, Eric Alexander, filmed it. Ron Barba opened for me. Matt Bailey did some magic. Choomassi serenaded us. And of course Steve Ryan was Pot Roast, Meatloaf's disinfranchized brother. I did well. There were some spots where looking back I could have done things differently, but I did very well. This has been a dream of mine for ten years. I did it.

However, after the show I was speaking to the sound man at the Metropolitan Room and we had a very insightful conversation. A gentlemen from France, he is a jazz guitarist and married the sister of the famous singer he played for. They now have a thirteen year old daughter. Anyway, the conversation turned to comedians. He said, "Comedians are weird cats. The comedians who come in for the open mic sometimes come with their heads down and are angry. They are negative." He hit the nail on the head, comedians are not positive creatures by habit.

And then he said it best, "They make excuses for why they don't have the career they want."

So many times I have heard comedians crap on someone else who is making it. If it is a woman, she must have slept with a lot of people. I can't tell you how many people it is rumored I slept with. Hell, if I got Kathy Griffin, Chelsea Handler, and Rosie O'Donnell in the same room they probably slept with more nonexistent people than I have. (Rosie's nonexistent people are men too btw). If it is a dude, the other male comedians slam him as a douche bag. Maybe this is true, but he is a hard working douche bag which is more than I can say for your ass. In comedy everyone has a strike or two against them. The only thing you can control is being funny. Why not concentrate on that instead of what everyone else is doing?

One comedian mentioned in a post that when a comedian does well onstage and the next comic afterwards rips on their act, they lose the audience. She pointed out that they do this out of sheer jealousy. She's correct. Instead of being themselves, doing their act, and focusing on themselves, they blame everyone else. I have seen this several times in my comedy career and it is eekworthy to watch. Once May and I did well, and this idiot who was on Letterman once and has been washed up ever since followed. He ripped on us and the audience went silent. He had a hell of a time winning them back. I thought he was going to apologize afterwards, but he didn't. Of course, he only does certain shows and released a comedy album no one cares about. He wanders the scene looking for the meaning of life. I am garnering a following and filmed a DVD people already want to buy. He can rip on me all he wants, I am not only funnier but now I have the better career.

Yeah, it is easy to blame others when you don't get what you want. Maybe you aren't working hard enough. Or maybe you don't have the skills. Melissa Robinette, a wonderful actress and President of Actor's Equity of the East Coast and founder of The Biz of Show is from a circus family. She explained when actors find out they lost the job because they wanted a tap dancing leading lady, they put down the the other actor. Melissa said that circus folks learn how to tap dance so now they have that skill, and they can never lose that opportunity again. Bottom line, losers make excuses. Winners dont.

Also, every opportunity is not for you. A college chum scored a role in a Tyler Perry movie. As a black actress, that was her gig. Another was in Spiderman on Broadway, and she has a voice I could only hope to have in the next life. Same with my other college classmates in Hair, Wicked, etc. At the same time, if a horror movie with the lead being a female ventriloquist is casting, it probably won't be something they are up for. You get the picture. If it is yours, it will be yours. If not, their loss.

Tomorrow I am doing a test run for a sports app. My passions are football, boxing, UFC fighting, and sometimes baseball. Tomorrow will focus on basketball. I follow it,  but not as closely as the other sports. However, I am asking questions and getting informed. No one wants a stupid woman in the chat, right? Also, I referred my sports nut man comic friends. Why? Because they are passionate, funny, and I am everyone deserves a shot.

When I have worked with celebrities, they were positive. When I saw Alicia Keys interview, she was positive. A friend of mine on Broadway saw me on the street, gave me a hug and mentioned she saw me on TV with my puppets and was so proud. The sound man at the Met Room told me that the people he met that were the most successful were the most generous and had the biggest hearts. They also helped their friends out, too. It's because they don't have that insecurity and fear.

Bottom line, these people are positive. The fact they are successful is no accident. They are able to be happy for others because they are not focusing on what others have. Instead, they know what they have and don't have, therefore they can enjoy someone with a different skill or talent. They also have self-worth and that means they can be happy for others. Once you get that, you find there is no reason to be jealous.

If you are experiencing jealousy, why? Not everyone has everything. You don't know what someone has been through. Also, if you are on the receiving end, it sucks. However, know the universe might be teaching you a lesson on how not to act towards others. Yes, some muscle memory the next time you feel jealous because you are only human, right?

And if you want to give a jealous hater some shade, don't fight with them. It will only make you nasty, and that will piss people off that could help you. Instead, do you. Be good at what you do. Concentrate on your own game. That will make you rise above more bullshit than you could ever imagine.

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

Fear and Loathing

Comedians are like bitchy scorpions. There are only so many spots at any club, only so many people who can be on any show, etc. It's like we all can't have nice things. This is most apparent on car trips. It starts by bringing up one comic and then it is a trash fest. Some of it is out of jealousy that they got the spot we wanted. Some of it is out of fear that we might never get what we want. Some of it is out of insecurity because we must trash people we feel are lesser. Deep down, it is more fear. More fear that we will be forever trapped doing shit open mics, shit bar gigs, shit check spots, and at the end of the day we will languish in obscurity only to die unknown.

Early in my comedy career I saw people floating around who had been at it for years. One woman had been doing open mics for fifteen years and still sucked. I deeply hoped that wasn't going to be me. However, I was afraid it was going to be. I saw others seemingly never move from the bringer system, damned forever to be comedy cattle running and feeding off of dream grass only never to get the nutrients. At other venues I saw people bark for what seemed to be forever never to move up. And then I saw some people do the same terrible set for years with the same lackluster jokes. Running the open mic marathon it seemed as though the lanes were clogged like a bad LA traffic jam and I would never get the red light. As for the road, I did that as a feature. I opened up for guys who were either really funny and would never have their talent recognized, or incredible hacks that killed for audiences that didnt know better. For a while it felt like there was no way to make it.

As a comedian I never believe my fans or the audiences that love me. In the initial early stages of my career, I very well knew I wasn't very good. When I would have a bad set, it followed me for sometime in my mind. When I had a good set, I bragged about it. Some of it was that I was proud of my work. Most of it was because I thought it would never happen to begin with therefore feared it would never happen again. I was accused of having no humility. It was true. I was deeply insecure and not the biggest April fan. But humility is not thinking less of onesself but thinking of onesself less. I was thinking of April all the live long day.

Time went on and I accomplished some things. It wasn't so much talent but hard work. I will admit, there is always someone funnier, prettier, and a better writer than I could be at any given moment. However, none have pounded the pavement like I have. Even my enemies have to high five me for my work ethic. In order to accomplish that fear and loathing, I became even more bragadocious. I don't think it was an accident that I found myself more depressed than ever deep down. Yes I was releasing a book but why did I secretly feel like dog shit run over by a mac truck? Answer, I was chasing the wrong solution. I thought ranting about being a woman in comedy was the solution. If I were a man I wouldn't have to fight so hard. I had fans writing me letters. Fuck open mics. Let me tell you how successful I am. Want to read a copy of my book?........

This past winter, I found myself unsure of how to step up my comedy. How to grow. The answer was to drop the fear and loathing and to do the work. This past week I did a show where the audience was slower to warm up to a ventriloquist act. However they got into me and I ultimately ended up doing well. After I stepped offstage I didn't hear the congratulations from the audience or felt the love I received from my fellow comedians. Instead I could only focus on the fact they didn't dig me at the beginning of my set. I was talking to a fellow comedian about this and how I always focused on the weak part. The audience members who didn't like me. My comedian friend concurred that she did that too. We all did.

On my walk home I worried that I was never going to go where I wanted to go. I also worried that I was going to settle again. Then I realized no. That wasn't going to happen. The mistake I made was falling victim to the fear and loathing. My ego seduced me into taking April the Reality TV Queen and April the Author into comedy clubs. That person doesn't always belong. Instead, when I go to a club I am just another name on the lineup. My job isn't to primp my feathers and remind people of who I think I am. It's to make the audience laugh. Also, there is something to be learned from every comedian on the lineup whether they are a household name or whether they are unknown. When that is my attitude there is always something gained.

These days when I step onstage I take the twenty year old kid who was awkward and had a weird looking, antiquated puppet. She wasn't afraid to fail, and was humble enough to do the work. She took tanking hard only to keep doing more of it until she got good. The beautiful thing was she wasn't so egotistical she wouldn't take a suggestion. As a result, the Comedy God's smiled upon her again and again. She was a good kid, sometimes taking things too hard but always chasing the perfect set. She always knew she could do better and the secret was more stage time. These days I bring her to the clubs. Not April the Reality TV star or April the Author. Those two idiots wouldn't have been possible without that weird, determined, and tough kid blindly chasing a dream.

Good things have always happened when she has been around. Sure she succumbs to the fear and loathing, but only to get up and try it again.

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

Starving the Devil

When I first started comedy, the only thing I had were my dreams. I was a kid from Pittsburgh. Having no idea what it really took to be a New York City comedian, I chased my dreams running on the hard pavement like Hussein Bolt. Of course I made friends with other young people chasing theirs as well. We saw each other at mics, grabbed pizza, and talked about how one day we wanted to be on TV in some capacity. We also traded punchlines and sob stories as we journeyed towards our pipe dream. We were going to be friends forever, right?

Time passes, and comedy is a vicious game. Being funny is part of the equation, along with the business and being at the right place at the right time. There were times I was acid tongued because I believed someone less talented advanced for no reason whatsoever. Of course there were other occasions where I was just bitter in general. We were all mice going for the same three pieces of cheese. There was going to be a little resentment over the fact there were so many spots, right?

Finally two and a half years ago my comedy luck began to turn. It seemed I was getting on TV quite a bit. Granted, I had a niche skill and was working for it. Not to mention that I branched out into music and was on my way to publishing a book. It looked like spending my twenties as a poor bohemian were finally starting to pay off. Sure, my high school and college mates were getting married, having kids, and starting their lives. I lived in a cramped apartment with no man and no money and a shitload of puppets and costumes most of the time. Yes, my bathroom looked like a drag queen vandalized it. However, I was also getting fans around the world. I was getting my music to chart on internet radio. My job as a talking head was fun and exposed me to even more folks in different reaches who saw me on TV. Oh and I published my book. My friends were going to be happy for me, right?

WRONG!

Suddenly it seemed I was public enemy number one. I was dissed on several blogs, and my so called friends from back in the day were the first to take shots at me. Some accused me of sleeping my way to TV time. Others said I lied and cheated my way to get things. Then there were those who called me an open mic hack. Meanwhile I was featuring and sometimes headlining. When they saw me in person they would be fake after slandering me online, which was even more painful because one idiot even left his name. Then there were some who decided to shun me all together. It was like we were friends who talked about our comedy dreams and then they couldn't say two words to me. Of course there were the brave idiots who took shots at me whether it was something backhanded or outright fought with me. Translated, I was being bullied and paying the price for seeing success. I couldn't get a break.

For a while I tried to tune it out, but it's hard to when people are nasty for no reason other than the fact they are jealous. I tried to keep in mind I earned these things: living off my laundry money and being so poor that sometimes I washed my clothes in my bathtub with my own shampoo. Soon I became nasty to counteract these people. Fighting back is the only thing a bully understands. Finally, as doors opened elsewhere my attitude became that I was too important to pay for stage time. I would show up if I liked the venue, was getting money, liked the producer, or if a fan was booking the show. Of course when any idiot started with me I would be quick to remind them that I was on TV in case they had forgotten. I thought I was showing them.

Instead I was only hurting myself. I felt alone more often than not, because I was also shutting people out who were my friends regardless of whether or not I was successful. Because I wasn't performing as much, that side of my personality was emerging in ways that weren't so good. I played a prank on a friend that I thought was funny. She thought it was mean and ended the friendship. I was increasingly glib to the point of being mean. The chip on my shoulder became uber magnified. I had been a woman slugging it out my entire youth and had faced so much sexism. When asked about all I had accomplished I came across as the biggest, most whiny victim in the world. At the times I wasn't sporting a bad attitude, I told everyone about the book I published and all I was doing with it. I claimed I was too tired to write jokes because I had written over 300 plus pages. Meanwhile it was all just a way to run from my bullies. In a way to fight the jerks I became one myself.

Finally I hit rock bottom. I found myself very depressed around the time I published my book. Some of it was the let down from a huge project. However a lot of it was because I wasn't writing new jokes. Standup had been the outlet for my rage and awkwardness back in the day. The stage had been my safe place. I no longer had that. Soon my urge to say the first thing that popped out of my head was getting me in trouble as well.I was turning into someone that no one liked, not even myself. One morning, as I felt the rage build up inside me I messaged a friend whom I will call Mr. Ed. To give you an idea, Mr. Ed is not a talking horse (irresistible hack joke), but an established comedian who has always been a friend that I admire. Positive and successful, Mr. Ed is one of those magical people who still loves to make people laugh.

Mr. Ed is somewhat psychic. We started the conversation about his headlining gig and he told me he killed in a whole new way because as he wrote in caps he HAD FUN. The universe was speaking to me. This was something I had not done in a while. Then I proceeded to pour my heart out and told him what I was going through. I asked Mr. Ed how he handled the jealousy and negativity. Mr. Ed said the only way to handle it was to starve it. I told him that would be hard for me. Like the blind karate master in the Kung Fu movies he had another move. Using the caps lock on his computer he typed it again in big letters. Now it made sense. By fighting back against these bullies I had been feeding into their negativity. They were just nasty people all around, and the only one I was hurting was myself.

I spoke to my mother about this who also had some good input. She said, "They had the same opportunities as you and didn't take them. That's not your fault."

Of course there was an old friend of mine who informed me that my attitude was becoming a problem. He also told me that the people bullying me were "shitheads" and I had to ignore them. Finally, he told me I was alienating people who could assist me. While it was harsh it was also the reality check I needed. Before my success was making people despise me. Now I was just doing it on my own.

Things steadily became easier, but I still had some hang ups. However as I strive to get this audition set ready, I am struck by how many people have come out of the wood work to help me. Some are old friends. One by the way is Mr. Ed. Some are new friends. This has enabled the walls to come down, and some of my old friends have reappeared. It turns out they still cared about me no matter where I am in my career, and are happy for me as long as I am happy. As a matter of fact I have never felt so much love coming my way in my life. It has been amazing, and it has made me love comedy in a whole new way. Since my energy is renewed, I am meeting others who perform simply because they love the art form of comedy and ultimately hunting the perfect punchline. Despite the fact comedy and I have had an abusive relationship as I run after the perfect clean set, I am more stoked than ever to get onstage.

I have also learned that while it is mean to be gossiped about, it is also mean to gossip about others. While sometimes all humans envy, it is important to be happy for others when they are successful. I am also seeing that while everyone is crazy in the beginning of the comedy race, everyone ultimately goes their own way. Some become performers, others writers, some club owners/bookers/managers, or go into TV production. However, those of us who finish end up working together which is kind of cool.

My pink cloud was a little bit obstructed yesterday. Someone who was an old friend back in the day who's second rate hack career has gone no where took a very public jab at me. This moron has no business critiquing anyone, especially since my second toe on my right foot with fungus has more talent. However it upset me because we were friends once upon a time. It was the same knife to the back piercing my heart. Yes, I did cry like a Goddamn woman. After calling a friend and sobbing wildly, I took a shower. I tried to brush it off but felt badly.

That is when I realized it was about him and not me. He had the same opportunities that I did. This man wasn't worth my tears let alone the paragraph above. That is when I threw on some clothes and got onstage.

I found out I was on Wendy Williams which was cool.

I also botched my clean set because I had wasted my energy. TV time is nice, but doing the work got me thus far. Don't stop the thing that makes it all possible, right? Plus in all that goes into show biz so much is beyond our control, so make what we can control good.

With that being said, haters make you famous. On that note, my clean set still needs a butt load of work

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

Wet Blanket Friends

A few years ago, I hit what is known as a snag in life. After ending things with a romantic partner who was emotionally abusive and physically violent towards me, I found myself in a tail spin. I found myself in an unscripted Lifetime Movie. To cope with the stress of an ex who wouldn’t let go and ultimately getting a separate mailing address, I rededicated myself to my art. Through it all, I leaned on my friends who were there for me. I considered myself grateful to have what seemed to be their unwavering love and undying support.

One friend in particular was very supportive. I will call him Jeff. A close, plutonic friend, he was part of the larger group I ran with at the time. The two of us were a closer pairing than a lot of the others. Jeff and I had a similar sense of humor, and our guilty pleasure was old Beavis and Butthead reruns. When we hung out, he would ask me what to say to the current girl he was pursuing. We were Elaine and Jerry minus the previous romantic history. My inner Teddy Ruxbin said, “We are going to be friends forever.”

While I pushed with the art, success did not come overnight. As a matter of fact, it seemed like I was waiting for Godot. Some of it was because of the nature of my particular art form, ventriloquism. Then there is the factor that I am an artist who creates her own work. Finally, it was just timing and the way I developed as a creative person. However, soon the tide started to shift.

Opportunities presented themselves because I showed up for my career but most importantly, for myself. I found myself working as a talking head on a web network performing for young people all over the world with my puppets. Despite a lifetime of wanting to try, I was now dabbling in music. Some of my songs got internet radio airplay, and a cover I did was number one on several online stations for weeks. I took the first steps at publishing what turned out to be my first book. Paying my dues looked like it was starting to pay off. All my friends were happy my life was starting to come together. That is, except for Jeff.

When I posted updates on facebook, Jeff would leave a snarky comment or two. At first I brushed it off. Jeff had been through a rough patch losing his job, and then discovering his girlfriend was cheating on him. This wouldn’t last.  Jeff did it again. After this happened several more times I wrote Jeff a facebook message telling him I didn’t find his comments funny, but rather hurtful. I pride myself in having a good sense of humor but this was just mean. Instead of apologizing, Jeff snapped back telling me I was too sensitive and that I was getting a “big head.”

I went cold on Jeff for about a month, figuring he had to work out whatever he was going through. That is when he dropped me a line wanting to know if I wanted to have coffee. I thought, “Why not?” I missed him anyway. So we got together and talked like we never left off. Then he asked me what I had been up to. In my naivite, I mentioned the new projects I was working on. At that point, they were the front and center of my life. I thought if the old Jeff was truly back he would be happy for me. Wrong. Jeff began to rip into me telling me hated the “April Brucker superstar affect.” He then proceeded to tell me my career was more imagined than real, and it’s not like what I was doing would lead to anything. I sat stunned for a brief second before my legs did the thinking. That is when I got up and left.

For days it nagged at me. Had I changed? Was I now an arrogant wench of a girl? Later that week, as I was hanging out in my local deli reading my newspaper and drinking my coffee, I posed my dilemma to my neighborhood friends. For the most part, these are guys who work the high rises on 10^th Avenue. We click because they love football as much as I do. I posed the question to my buddy Terrence, an elevator mechanic and closet book junkie, who not only has traded books with me but read mine several times. When I was done Terrence explained, “You have met what is known as a spirit snatcher. Or as my mother used to call them, a wet blanket friend.”

Terrence explained that a wet blanket friend was someone who was your friend when you were down, because it gave them a chance to be on top. Therefore, they appeared to be a “good person,” and it also fulfilled their need to be superior. However, now the tables were turned and I was no longer down and out. Jeff had lost his footing, and now had to knock me down in order to get it back. Terrence’s explaination made sense. While it hurt, it guided me to the next right action. That is when I got home and blocked him online.

This experience taught me a lot about what friendship was. While a friend is someone who is kind to you when life isnt, they are also kind to you when times are good. I knew I deserved better than a bully as a romantic partner, and now I deserve better than a bully as a friend. Self-respect is the rent I pay for living in the house of self-esteem. Being ambitious, driven, and successful only makes me a snob to losers. Cutting out a toxic friend is like cutting out cancer, not only does it make you feel better but you live longer. 

The Importance of Being Happy For Others

The entertainment industry is competitive to say the least. You always have to be on top of your game. Someone is always prettier, younger, a better singer, a more skilled dancer, funnier, a more awesome wordsmith, you name it. That is why it is important to know who you are and have a good attitude. That brings me to another matter, the journey. You work for that moment in time. Sometimes it comes quickly, sometimes it comes slowly. As you sweat away at the odd jobs you wonder when will it happen?

As I said for some it happens quickly. Sometimes they are at the right place at the right time. Whether they have a certain look, are a part of the hottest ethnic trend (especially true in comedy), or just have the right connections it seems like it falls into their lap. Sometimes it happens slowly. There are people, especially character actors and comedians, who slave for years unknown in theatres and live on the poverty line until they are almost forty. Suddenly we talk about how awesome they are. Am I repeating myself? Yes. I am making a point.

When it happens quickly for some, or seemingly so, it can be easy to fall into the trap of jealousy. It not only denotes a lack of gratitude, but also takes away the focus from you and your goals. I remember several years ago, as it seemed everyone's career was taking off and mine was not, I found myself saying some awful things about others who were "making it" on comedian car trips. The convo started where someone brought up a guy who got something and we ragged on him as a good looking douche bag. We never talked about how we worked hard touring most of the year and was living out of his car. Or we talked about a hottie who wore next to nothing that was on TV a lot. We never spoke about her work ethic or the fact she never took no for an answer. We wanted to hate. It put the focus on them and took the focus off of us and our shortcomings.

Then things started to happen for me. Some of it was luck. Much of it was hard work. I found my fellows, people I once called friends, turn on me. Some showed their true colors by sharing their feelings about me anonymously online. Others would smile to my face but as soon as they believed I was out of ear shot they would gossip. Then there were those who stopped speaking to me in general. These were people I shared car rides with, or kvetched about how the business was giving us all the short end of the stick. Now they were strangers when they saw me. Finally, there were those who went right for the jugular. Once I came to an open mic and made an off the cuff comment and someone who had once been a friend bit my head off to the point where I was near tears. Another time I mentioned to someone I had too many facebook friends and she replied, "The more friends on facebook the less friends in real life." Another friend if you will. Suddenly I found myself alone, angry, and wondering why this was happening.

I got a worse dose of kharma. Someone who I had gossiped viciously about came to my defense and sought me out to tell me how proud she was of not only my career, but where I was going. Then it occurred to me. If I wanted people to be happy for me, I had to learn to be happy for others. Not only because it was good energy,  but I knew how it felt when people were mean and nasty in response to my success.

So here are some things you need to remember, and it will help you be happy for others.

1. You never know how hard someone had to work or what someone had to go through prior to what they achieved. Despite outward appearances, they may have a hellacious backstory. They may have escaped an abusive husband, terrible childhood, lived in a car. Or they might have worked hard, busting their behinds and working their fingers to the bone paying their dues in ways you could never imagine. So they might not just deserve this. They might triple deserve this. Envy is not only arrogant, but it shows a total lack of general awareness.

2. Say they did just get lucky. Luck eventually runs out. Just remember every dog has their day. And just as that dog is having their day, you will too soon enough.

3. Everyone's path is different. The way I explain this to young people is during the race everyone starts at the same place. However, eventually everyone goes to different lanes in the race. Some people continue performing. Others work behind the scenes. Some become writers. Then there are those who become managers and club owners. The beautiful part is, if you continue to run the race and focus on your own game, everyone who finishes the race ends up working together.

4. They may have worked for this particular thing. Yes, sometimes people get breaks and we are like, what! Well if they have been singing since they were little and get a record contract, they worked for it. If they have been auditioning for years for a Broadway show and book a role, they worked for that. If they have been slaving away in the comedy clubs for years and book a TV special. They worked for that. Yes, they earned it. This was their gift. Get over it and move on.

5. Not Every Break Is For You. While it would be awesome to be right for every job that comes your way, it just ain't going to happen. A few years ago a classmate of mine from college was in a Tyler Perry flick. It was cool to see her on screen. But also, there was no way in hell I was even going to be scouted for that job. Another classmate of mine did a stunt job. Wasn't getting that one either. Just as they probably weren't going to be called for the puppet stuff. So concentrate on who you are and what you are good at.

6. This Might Be It For Them. Back in the day a girl I knew graduated high school early and got a national tour. I was pissed. Why not me? My mom told me that I should be happy, because this girl was probably reaching her peak. Yes, my mom was right. Soon after that tour, she worked in Disney, met her husband and got married. While she now sings in a corporate wedding band with her husband, she did not have the big Broadway career she was touted to have. So be happy for them, this might be their first and last.

7. Hocus Pocus Keep The Focus. Yes, focus on your own damn game. The more time you spend grinding your teeth and wishing for them to break both legs in a car crash in time taken away from achieving your goals and reaching where you need to be. Their game is their game. Yours is yours. Focus on yours. That is the only way to win.

8. It's A Marathon. Several years ago, it seemed like several people got things handed to them. Well when things got hard they decided this wasn't for them and quit. I also ran into several women who decided the path was to be a wife and mother instead of an artist. Bottom line, while someone might run out of the gate quick it doesn't mean they finish the race. Part of success is staying in the game. When you continue to show up and play, it will pay off.

9. Use Their Success To Inspire You. After writing my book, I remember seeing at Brown I was on the bookself next to Junot Diaz. At NYU I was next to Ophira Eisenberg. One won a MacArthur Fellowship. The other has a movie deal. In the old days I would have said, "Screw them both." Now I flip the script and say, "Look at who I am blessed to share shelf space with. Maybe I could do these amazing things too if I keep up the good work."

10. Jealousy Doesn't Have The Outcome You Want. Yes, bad mouthing that jiggle bunny in the low cut dress feels good. Or spreading the rumor that she got her record contract because she blew some dude feels better. But you also look like a total tool. Or doing something to ruin someone's efforts blows up in your face. Bottom line, jealousy is a terrible color and makes you look like a vicious troll that lives under a bridge.

Hope I helped

Follow your dreams and your heart

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

The Importance of Friends

I have been going through some things lately. Aside from a busy schedule that is the bi-product of my dreams coming true (although I find myself falling asleep easily at night), there has been something else that has been bothering me. What I am talking about is the jealousy factor in this industry. When you start to see a little success the claws come out from those around you. Some of it is on a smaller scale. Some of it is on a drastic scale.

Lately I have been dealing with a psychotic female admirer. She has been the pebble in my shoe for years. Her name is Ms. Wannabe. I hate having to talk about her much less write about her. This woman has been nothing but a negative attention seeking pest. Actually I prefer the term bitch. Truth be told, she is only sober for about an hour a day if that. Without completely taking her inventory, it is an act of God that I haven't beaten her head in for as much as she has tormented me. I know I shouldn't take her personally. She is an alcoholic and drug addict who's life only gets worse as her boyfriend enables her. But it's kinda hard not to get pissed when she calls and hangs up all the damn time blocking her number.

Anyway enough about the skank. 

I saw an old friend of mine yesterday from the comedy world. She hasn't been performing as much because she is going through a rough patch in her life. We talked about the mic world. My friend-who is quite funny-humbly stated that she hoped she would never become too grandiose for open mics. I joked that I have become too grandiose for mics. It is true, my ego is too big to pay five dollars a pop to follow my dream. Plus I have spent a small fortune paying for stage time. We talked about the downside of mics and how it was good to get stuff out but some mics had their own culture that was very anti-woman. However my friend pointed out that if one hated a mic, they had the option of finding another. It was not the end of the world.

I ended up pouring my heart out to my friend about how I felt shunned at mics once things started happening for me. And how it seemed suddenly I was the bad guy because so many of these people seemed allergic to achievement. My friend pointed out that when a person gets successful, it is not easy for everyone. I explained I had drifted away from mic land because I was busy doing other things like for a while I was producing web content. My buddy explained that again, my success would not be easy for some people. She said that there are people in this world who think things are handed to people. She explained while she knew I worked hard for my success, to some people it might seem it was just handed to me which is far from the truth. 

I told her about how I had to deal with sexism and hate from all angles back in the day. My friend explained that those people don't see that, and they only see their own shit. And that their jealousy was more about them than myself. That I couldn't expect everything to be happy for me. Oh and she joked that from 1989-2002 she too was a hater. And as an ex hater she could attest that you don't know what someone else goes through to get where they are.My buddy was right. My former friends didn't see the blood, sweat, tears, and hard work. 

Then I told my friend about the chick stalking me. About how my success is just too much for her. My friend pointed out that she has a drug problem and a boyfriend who enables her. She said, "You don't want her life, do you? Her life sounds terrible, April." I told her no. At that moment I felt sympathy for Ms. Wannabe. If anything she is a very sick woman who is crying for attention. As she openly brags about her drinking and drug use it is just a feeble cry for help from a troubled young woman. Then my friend pointed out, "There will always be haters, April."

I bid my friend goodbye and felt better. The night was spent with me sending emails about my book, interview questions to a writer friend of mine, and more emails about a pilot project I am a part of. Just then the phone rang. I got not one but three blocked calls from guess who? Ms. Wannabe, everyone's favorite professional victim. I ended up calling another friend of mine who is like a mom. Well she was with her young grandkids who were fighting and having a bad day. She snapped, "There is nothing I can do about it and I am sick of hearing about her." I stammered and my friend explained, "I am having a bad day too, April. Just ignore her. That is the best you can do!" And she slammed down the phone. 

Why didn't my friend validate my bullshit and insight me to bash the head in of my hater? Then I realized it's what I needed to hear. I had to stop giving this real life version of a puss filled pimple attention. Since she has decided to start harassing me again, I have been on her facebook page more than I would like to be to see if I was in mortal danger. I have been on her blog lately to see if I was in danger as well or to see if she would make threats. Most of it has been annoying, whining statuses and second rate musings of an overgrown, petulant child. Of course she bitches and moans about me in many. Apparently I am delusional and have an overblown ego. As I wanted to jump through the computer screen and strangle her I realized my friend was right. Because this young woman was renting space in my head and I was on her social media (which is pitiful), I was being sucked into her world and giving her more energy than she deserved. Thus as she was becoming obsessed with me I was becoming obsessed with her.So once again I blocked her tuning her out, not feeding in. 

The last thing I saw on her page was a disturbing video where it looked like she was nodding off. She was pale and looked possibly like she was shooting heroin or something. While she has been nothing but horrid to me, this makes me ill. Drug addiction, especially on women, is unforgiving. It is also a path that ultimately leads to death. I don't wish the yets she is about to encounter on anyone. The sad thing is, I understand more than anyone in the world what it is like to be alone in an abusive relationship and to feel so isolated. My first instinct is to reach out and help someone like that actually. Tell them the ex girlfriend is not worth going to jail over. I remember being that jealous and foaming at that mouth. Then I realize more than anything in the world this creature doesn't deserve my hate but my pity. She is sick, very sick. Hopefully she finds some sort of spirituality or else her mother may end up burying her. It's not over dramatic. It;s the reality of addiction.

Just then I got another blocked call on my phone. I remembered both my friends reminding me that there would always be hater and how I just had to ignore her. The phone rang and that was it. I also figured it was late anyway. I turned off my phone and turned in for the evening. Translated from middle school, she could talk to my hand cause the face don't give a damn. With that, I had a laugh about this woman who was obviously on a middle school level and had a good night.

Bottom line: A friend is someone who tells you how it is when you need to hear it. They also let you know that most of the time for as seriously as you take your shit, it ain't that serious.

Love

April

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

www.aprilbrucker.com

Big Head Sydrome

In comedy, sometimes success can go to a person's head a little. Actually that is in show business in general. You work your ass off and presto, it happens. And then suddenly you are on top of the world. People write you fan letters and voila! That is when you are on the list at places and you get fans. Oh and people write on your facebook wall, "Saw you on TV!"

I remember when it started happening to me it was cool. However there were a lot of other things happening. One was getting fired as the open mic host of a club I put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into. Oh and this was right after I got this club some meaty national television time. After that is was the painful lesson of learning some people are only your friends when you are down, and those people will shit talk you the second you find success because you left them in their loser dust. I remember being treated like dog shit in my own community because of my "fame seeking." On top of that it was years of male club owners speaking to me how ever they wanted to, usually putting me down for being a woman. Then there were the male comedians who were higher on the food chain either trying to seduce me or outright groping me. After them came the male producers who would hide me because I eclipsed the talent of their male headliner friend, and didn't want to upset him. Or the male producers who wanted to fuck with me just because I was more talented than them and they knew I was destined to pass them up. The women were no help. Hell, they were even worse. Whenever they could they trashed me and put me down. Suddenly, it was on a larger scale than I ever imagined.

To cope with it, I developed sort of a fuck all attitude. It kept the fact that there was so much jealousy around me seemingly hurt less. Granted, it ate me up inside but I had to keep going. What was I supposed to do? Suddenly become allergic to achievement because those around me where? I started dressing crazy, acting crazy, and regularly declared myself the greatest ever. Not to mention I was finally able to tell the majority of the men and women who fucked with me that they could get fucked.

The big head felt good. I told one booker who was being snarky with me to get fucked. I told another who wanted to give me the run around it was obvious that he didnt own a television. And then there was the idiot working the door giving me a hard time so I asked him, "Excuse me, do you know who I am?" Needless to say, the attitude turned heads. In some instances cracking the whip with people got me what I wanted. And in others, not so much...

Other doors opened and my ego did grow. My song "Stay" was number one on internet radio. I published my book. It made it into an Ivy League Collection and NYU. Mensa said good things. Britney gave it a plug. I was on TV some more. But the truth was, I felt lonely as hell. My big head had grown to the point where I felt that facebook was my personal soapbox. I fought with friends and fans and was alienating followers and anyone else who help me. So really it was the Tarot Chariot in reverse, my arrogance was setting me back.

Around this time, I remember being at an open mic just to work stuff out. My book had just been published. I detested having to pay for stage time. A female comedian asked where she could follow me and I explained my personal page was maxed out and told her to join my fan page. Then someone snapped, "The more friends you have on facebook the less you have in real life." I remember walking home angered. What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was a lose/lose situation. Granted, I felt I was slumming it at mics but I needed the time. So rather than just find where I was welcome I went on a facebook rant. Of course I reminded people who got in my way for the next several weeks who I (thought) I was.

A week later I ended up doing time in Queens. It was at a coffee house where no one knew me. I slinked in and told myself I wasn't talking to anyone. I remember going up and doing well with a new puppet. When I got offstage I remember this dude I never met came up to me. He told me he liked my stuff and had a different ending for a joke I wrote. I remember being humbled at that moment. That joke hadn't worked. Then it hit me. This is why I got into comedy in the first place. Yes, it was to be on TV and to get famous. But also just to make people laugh. I remembered how much fun it had been to chill in the diner after sets and exchange punchlines with people. How exciting it had been to get onstage. How my goal was just to be a good comedian and how I stood in awe of people with television credits. How I remembered who was nice and who was an asshole. How I was suddenly turning into that demanding asshole. How I didn't want to be that person either.

Not to mention my former friends were wrong for being jealous and treating me like trash. However, that was about them. It had nothing to do with me. My role was letting their jealousy and envy make me a paranoid, self-centered, asshole that no one wanted to be around. When I realized that, I was able to feel less bitter about the loss of their friendship and made friends who were proud of me, on my level, but would also be honest with me.

While it took a while for the cinderblock to go, it was slowly being chipped away. These days whenever I do a spot while I might have been seen on television, I am still another performer on the show. Sure, I might be on the shelf next to a woman who got a movie deal in NYU's Bookstore and a MacArthur Fellow at Brown, but it is an honor to share shelf space with them. Instead of cursing them in my head for wrongs they never did, I tell myself these are things I could do.

These days I look at my career as a job more or less, that is all it is. Outside of the Superfoxxx Persona and puppet mother I am a friend, daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, etc. After a shoot at my new hosting gig I am still home. I still have bills. I still have to make my damn bed. Bottom line, they call it show business because it is all a show. When you get swept into that world too deep, nothing and no one is real. And one day you are on top and next it is someone else. Not to mention no matter how famous you are, there is someone in Branson, Missouri who could give a rats ass about ya.

Nowadays the big head comes out when I am tired. That is when I turn into overworked woman against the world. Yesterday I had a meeting for a pilot and was giving my co-host/co-producer orders. Apparently, I was wagging my finger. He looked at me and said, "Don't wag your finger at me. I am not submissive here." I proceeded to bark orders at him again and he responded, "I don't even think you know you do it." Translated, I was being rightfully bitch smacked. It was a kind reminder that no matter how tired I get or important I think I am, I have to remember I can't talk to people however I want to, especially when they are in my corner.

Today I woke up and my body hurt. Of course I snapped at my mother which rarely happens. Translated, I need a night in.

These days I write for the Huffington Post, am about to (finally) drop my audiobook, have a cool on camera gig, and things are only getting better. Not to mention I have some other stuff going on. I am losing my mind, but it is job related stress. Everyone feels it, from the street sweeper on up. I am by no means terminally unique. I am getting success because I am working for it and earned it, but what is given can be taken. So I must always walk humbly. Cause we all know a big head cannot fit through any door without being popped.

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

Asinine Dribble on a Sunday Night

Today I went to the studio to record. I am sure Archie and Anthony are glad my audiobook is almost done. While they probably enjoy my company, my voice that sounds like a mix of Minnie Mouse and Mae West with a bizarre twang from no where is haunting their dreams. I can see it now, they are taking their one day of sleep and there they hear my voice as they close their eyes. And there I am in my usual recording studio clothes, sweats and looking like I rolled out of bed. Actually most of the time I have.

During one of my many pee breaks which I take a ton cause all I do is drink coffee, tea, and water, especially now that I have been sick, I saw this hottie female artist coming in. I mean, she looked good. She was all bestyled and slick. Immediately in my brain I called her every terrible name in the book for looking so hot. I mean, I am there to work not to get a date but still I felt like the fat chick in seventh grade again. In my head I assured myself she wasn't as smart and as funny as I was. Ripping her up in my head felt good. Did she know I went to NYU? Did she know I wrote a damn book that was reviewed by Mensa? Did she know I was a smart woman who needed no man unlike this thing who probably manipulated men?

 I took a deep breath and told myself to stop being such a bad clothes wearing, bitchy, smarter than the rest of the world, female writer. Women are terrible when it comes to each other. A minute later I introduced myself and spoke to her for a few minutes. She was really sweet. My bet is she has a great voice and will make a great record. Where was this terrible wench coming out of? This girl was perfectly fine. Gosh, when April is all work and no play she can be a very bitter woman. Maybe April the Female Writer is April McNoFun.

After I left the studio I swung by one of my old haunts to see a crush of mine. For weeks I have been making subtle moves to get my attention and he has been all chitty chatty. Needless to say, I was ready to make a move, maybe make a coffee date. That is when I saw him talking to this thing with badly dyed blonde hair and this low cut number. YUCK! I felt like crying on the spot. Then I remembered I never even told him I liked him. OOPS.

It's weird for me when I have a crush. I can never tell someone how I feel. I just want to give them a little note that says: "Do you like me? Check yes, no, or maybe." It is really tough for me to talk to guys. I have always been kind of shy. When I was younger I struggled with my weight and maybe that is it. In middle school I was asked out as a joke and I couldn't believe a guy likes me for real. In high school I lost the weight but wasnt allowed to date, and the one time I got the guts to like a guy he totally didn't return the favor. Then there was the disaster fiance.

Yes, the disaster who was physically abusive as well as verbally and emotionally abusive. The disaster who said me or the puppets. Maybe that is why I hate the way I talk. My ex's friends used to make fun of the way I talked behind my back. Perhaps it's better that Mr. Perfect didn't return the favor. He had a great job and a great personality. I am just one hell of a shy hot mess. People say they wish they saw this side of me more often. But it is painful as hell...

That's when I realized for as much as I crushed on this guy I could never love him because there is a large part of me that still loves Holden. I still dream about him. It was tough to end that. We didn't have a fight. He didn't cheat. He never hit me. No, Holden was sick. He was a drug addict, an alcoholic, and bipolar that wasn't properly treated. Sometimes when I tell people about him they call him names. People say I should forget about him. I remember he texted me and said he had six months clean. Six months clean isn't enough people told me. A year or eighteen months maybe. But you can't help who you love...

I went to the pool to take a swim. When I got there there was a cute lifeguard minding the pool. He looked to be about nineteen or so and had this million, billion, mega watt smile. I just remember he walks over to tell me the lane is closed. But this is how the exchange went:

 Hottie: Excuse me, I am closing this lane.

Me: Duunnnnhhhhhh......Okkkkaaayyyy.

Then as I began my kicking in the pool I passed the hottie several times. He probably had some horrid ring tone on his phone. He probably had some same aged teeny bopper girlfriend who dressed in clothes similiar to that female artist who I hated in my mind but seemed so nice when I spoke to her. Actually his teeny bopper girlfriend was probably a loser. Oh well, in the back of my mind I thought of how to make my move, April "Cougar" Brucker. However, ten years ago I too was a lifeguard. Ten years ago I had dirty old men trying to seduce me into the steam room. Ten years ago I detested men like this. Now my mind was in the gutter. In my mind I had the bravado but as I said I am so shy I wouldn't know how to put the words together. So these are the scenarios I came up with.

Scenario 1- I pretend to be drowning in the pool so he is forced to save me. Then as he is performing rescue breathing I slip him the tongue. Yes, maybe he has the teeny bopper girlfriend but I am a real woman.

Scenario 2- I prance around in a really sexy bikini and bend over as much as possible intriguing his barely legal imagination.

Scenario 3- I actually get the nerve to talk to him and tell him all about my skill as a female writer and a ventriloquist and my singing telegram performing making it painfully desperate that I never get out very much thus scaring him away forever.

Scenario 4-I get out one of my puppets. Here is what the puppet says, "Hey Stud Muffin. April thinks you are really fly. Can she take you out for pizza? Despite our TV time we are really poor, but you are a lifeguard so you are super poor."

I glanced over again. He was texting, eyes off the pool in the event someone was drowning. Needless to say if he worked under my mother he would have probably been canned like Coca Cola. I bet you he was texting, "This weird old ass bitch keeps giving me the eyes. I bet she is desperate and I bet she plays with puppets and writes books and doesn't have a man." Sir, your bet would be correct. Now come to my Cradle of Love in five minutes so I can rock your world.....in my mind.

Okay, I need to stop while I am ahead. But rest assured there will be plenty of freestyle this summer. As I exited he waved goodbye to me and I was turning so red I almost walked into the men's rest room. But ooops, Hottie waved goodbye. Hottie the Errand Lifeguard. Bow Wow Wow. Get a hold of yourself April.

I stripped and went to the sauna. People get buck naked in there. They let the world see everything. Personally, despite some of the photos I have taken I am quite shy. I always put a towel over my lower half. There was one woman in there that was not very good looking. Then another who was hot as hell. The one that was hot as hell intimidated me. She had the perfect body, just like the girl my crush was talking to. Probably just like Hottie the Errant Lifeguard's Girlfriend. Just like that female artist who was so nice but so beautiful. Gosh I had wished she was mean so I could justifiably hate her. And sometimes I just wish I could sit in the corner with my Golden Girls style cheesecake and bury my feelings. Wait, that is what Lifetime Movies are for.

That's when I dried my hair, hid in my sweats, and cried to myself as I left. This guy stuff was too much. Why couldn't they like my sexy brain and creativity? It dresses in hell fire red lingerie all the time. It even comes with whips and chains. April Brucker however does not. She comes with puppets, punchlines, books, and costumes. Okay, it could still be kind of kinky but most of the time I am friend zoned unless the dude has a criminal record, drug issue, or mental health problem.

I went to get my halal food, chicken and rice. The cart has three guys working there and today the best guy was working. He prepared it perfectly. I felt better. Not pretty, not ugly, just tired after a long day in the studio. When I see that female artist I will apologize (in my mind) because now I feel like a totally jealous tool. When I see that ex crush of mine I will wish death upon him (in my mind) even though he and that ho he is cavorting with never knew how I felt. When I see Errant Hottie I will tackle him like a lioness on a fresh piece of meat (in my mind) as I work out like a well behaved health club member.

Sigh, time to do some work.
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 RAINN

Forgive Them Father (Lauryn Hill)

I have spoken a lot about some drama that happened this week-some drug addict bitch throwing shade-and I will allude briefly to it again. Well not in the way you think. Truth is, the drama made me tired. It gave me stomach aches and made it hard for me to keep my food down. The only thing stopping me from disfiguring Horse Face was that she wasn't worth a felony charge. Hell I would have beat her brains in but in between the drug use and the dumb ass she she is to begin with I don't think it would have done much good. But I didn't because again she is not worth jail time.

At the same time this whole thing has made me grateful that the past is the past. That I am out of a circle of people who thrive on drama, so much so that it is all consuming offstage and when they get onstage they are flat, boring, and unmemorable. If these people put the same energy they did into their careers as they did to stirring shit they would be winning an Academy Award this Sunday. But alas, they are not. This is a circle of people where gossip isn't just a past time, it is an all the time. This is a group of people where no one can be trusted. They are your friends until you have what they want, then they throw you under a bus. Not to mention it's not just Horse Face, they all drink heavily and use copious amounts of drugs. Dealing with their negative attention seeking bullshit drained my energy and gave me a headache. It made me angry until I realized they did not deserve my anger. That would mean that they mattered.

Instead I am out of that group of people. I am no longer with an ex who lies and drinks on top of his psych meds. Horse Face can have that prize, backney and balding head. I am no longer a gossiping, jealous wannabe envious of the success of others and entitled that it should be my own when I do nothing about it. My energy goes into my art and into my work and one day I will win a Tony or an Emmy or an Oscar. Hell I may even host that damn show. My friends these days are my true friends, not friendemies who will turn at any second.

My life is much better now. I don't like drama offstage. It drains me. Not only does it show personal growth, but also is the mark that I am doing things with myself. I don't feed off of people's misery, and experiencing the jealousy I have in these past eighteen months I would never, ever want anyone to feel that way. I look at that whole circle, all those people, and I could laugh because they are so petty, stupid, and truly don't matter. But instead I feel a certain amount of pity because they don't know better and never will.

I know better though, and I know better than to be angry. Because when you argue with an idiot you get two idiots arguing. I remember my friend Chacho Vasquez once said it best, "People are in your past because you past them over. When you look back they are right where you left them, doing the same shit and even wearing the same bad clothes."

Chacho was correct. Monday he would have been thirty seven years old. I know his spirit was with me, guiding me, letting me to know to laugh this bitch and her drama off. To shake her like last season's fashions.

I am thankful and grateful that these people are a part of my past. They don't deserve to be a part of my present because they don't deserve my gifts. And they most certainly won't be a part of my future. But the little refresher was good. It reminded me that I don't like what I used to be and that I never want to go there again. Progress and growth, while painful, feel good. It is a reminder that we must keep moving towards the ball of light. It is a reminder that no one is worth getting the best of you.

That being said keep moving towards the light kids.

And as for those people, I ask God to forgive them cause they know not what they do. Poor ignorants do not know any better. And it must be painful to be that shallow, stupid, and limited in ever capacity.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback 877-Buy-Book, Amazon
EBook Kindle, Nook
Audiobook available in Spring 2013
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN