May Wilson Tells You To Wash Your Hands

Some Memes

That's So Vegas

Hey everyone, just did an amazing appearance on That's So Vegas. It was one of the many wonderful events that were a part of the most breathtaking weeks I have had in years. Christine McKellar is charming and talented, and to say I had a great time was an understatement.

Not only was it incredible to be profiled, but many well-known Vegas headliners have been on the show. This includes but is not limited to The Bronx Wanderers and Kelly Clinton Holmes. I know this is just the beginning of a new chapter of my life that includes splitting my time between NYC, Las Vegas, and LA. Also this new chapter has me earning my MFA in creative non-fiction, modelling more, and being a mother to my 19 puppet children.

Enjoy my interview, and hopefully Christine will have me back again. Grateful and blessed for all I have been given. God is good (all the time).

Some memes for the road

Repost please

April Unwrapped

#FlashbackFriday

It was July 2012. I was all about being a reality star. This was a strange time in my life. I was spotted on the street by fans and thought I had arrived. I had and I hadn't. I had because I wanted to be on TV and be recognized, plus the world knew about my puppet babies. I hadn't because it had all become about the wrong thing.

Prior to this picture being taken, I felt rather stunted and depressed. I wanted to jump out my window and didn't know why. I wasn't sincerely suicidal. More like uninspired and depressed like a Smith's song. Then I applied to do The Coney Island Talent Show. It was a long way away from where I lived and I almost didn't go. The trains were crap that day. But something told me to go.

I got there and it was another snag. There were kids. NO ONE TOLD ME THIS WAS A FAMILY SHOW. FUUUUUCCCCKKKK!!!!

Except I couldn't say FUUUCCCCCCKKKKK!!!!!

So I literally had to rewrite my act on the spot. Bob Greenberg was so supportive and told me I could do it. He was one true friend as I sweated under my arm pits. For so long May Wilson and I had done the late spots at the clubs. We had been dirty. We had been raunchy. We had been as bad as can. Now we had to be good.

It felt like the longest time before we got onstage. When we did, we did our clean routine we had put together on the spot. We actually did surprisingly well. Everyone, adults and children, laughed. There was something so wonderful about being on the boardwalk entertaining people of all ages. So often in NYC comedy becomes about being angry and deep that we forget it's about making people laugh. And also, so often do we get deep into our depression of not getting what we want because the business isn't fair that we forget the root word to funny is FUN.

I didn't win, but I did a good clean set. Bob and Joe Bev rocked it as Abbot and Costello. The World Famous BOB was so cool and sometimes I sweat she is a totum animal of mine. Maybe I didn't win the cash money, but I made people happy that day. And I walked away feeling inspired. That under all my insecurity, maybe I could make this a career after all. Note, I left feeling awesome and loving comedy. And when I saw my window that night, I saw the stars to my dreams instead of a bottom where I wanted to jump and escape.

April Unwrapped: My Naked Dreams Revealed

The Greater Good

This past week, I did a show at Carmen Road School. It was a nice little jaunt out of the liberal bubble I call my backyard. The school is a special needs school in Massapequa Park, NY. I took the LIRR and off I went.

The school services students with developmental disabilities whether it be physical, mental, or in some cases both. Students in the school are up to 21 years old, because some kids with an IEP get longer to finish. Anyway, I had no clue how this would alter my week in the most positive of ways.

Before the show, I ended up talking to the comedians. A lot of them, unlike my little liberal bubble, had voted for Trump. I feared I would be shot for bringing Donald J. Tramp. They told me I was fine, I was in suburbia. Had a laugh about that.

The show itself was a fundraiser for the PTA. The audience, composed of parents who children were students, were wonderful and laughed the entire time. There was also not one weak link in the lineup. The show was a wonderful breath of fresh air, as it was composed to people who aren't in my usual orbit. Comedians from LI tend to focus on jokes more than "being real." That is a thing particular to NYC comedy.

I watched the entire show, and learned a lot from this talented group of people. City comedians tend to get personal and deep, while Long Island comics tend to have more fun actually. Again, it's always good to get out of your bubble. The parents were nice, and even wrote us all wonderful thank you cards.

Look at the whole crew of us! 

Afterwards, I was speaking to one of the parents. He told me his son played wheelchair soccer. I had to applaud the staff and the teachers for all they did for these kids. Sure, they were disabled, but it didn't mean they weren't able. Life is about doing the best you can with what you have. It's amazing how much they were able to do for these kids, and how hard their parents were willing to fight for them. It was a blessing to be a part of that effort, even if it was for a brief wrinkle in time.

Right now, what the world needs is more people doing the right thing for the right reasons. There is so much hostility on both sides post-election. It's to the point where I need to take a break from the internet more often than not. So what we all need now is a little kindness and a little laughter.

Donald J. Tramp received a mixed welcome as this was a red county. However, May Wilson swooped into save the day. Everyone loves a party girl.

Either way, thank you to Carmen Road for an incredible experience. And thank you to the comedians who performed, and Joey Petroni for organizing.

April n May

Real World (John Mayer)

Junior High should be nicknamed Junior Hell. I still remember the mean girls. There was one in particular that delighted in making my day a living nightmare. Encountering her was like Superman encountering Lex Luther, except Lex Luther was somewhat likeable. Yes, her name was Valerie Ransom.

I still see Valerie as she was then. She had an expensive school wardrobe, only one that a credit card and a kid on her own could buy. Her hair was bright blonde, and she had a perky little body. Sure, her breasts were big for a middle schooler, but the dudes didn’t care. Valerie always wore cherry or strawberry lip gloss. Smacking it on her kisser, she was the Queen Bee and was surrounded by her drones. Pre-pubescent boys literally bowed to their makeshift Aphrodite as she passed in the hallway. They would do anything to be seen with her. Valerie was everything they dreamed about in a woman. She was the closest thing they had to that pretty model on the front of Seventeen Magazine.

Valerie delighted into ripping into me. I was an easy target, too. Looking back, this doesn’t just make her  a bitch on wheels and a bully, but also a lazy asshole as well. Yes, I had a weight problem. Of course I suffered from cystic acne. To fight this, I was on a facial medication that made my skin peel and gave me cold sores like a hooker with herpes. Then my mom picked out my clothes, and she still does. Add in braces with rubber bands that always had food in them. Oh, and my parents wouldn’t let me date.

You see, Valerie and I had actually been friendly before junior high, and she was even in my dance studio. Occasionally, we were even in the same gymnastics class. Valerie was also smart at one point, even tested gifted. Like me, she was in the advanced reading group. However, once junior high hit she was done being smart and now on to her true calling, being popular.

“April has no friends! April has no friends!” Valerie Ransom declared one day in homeroom. It wasn’t true. I had friends. They just didn’t wear preppy clothing and hang with her crew.

“Fuck you!” I replied.

“Sorry, don’t do ugly girls.” Valerie sneered. Then she began to sing "April's got no friends" and got the whole homeroom to join in. Our teacher got her to stop, but Valerie let me know this wasn’t the end.

The next day Valerie ripped on my outfit. Yeah, it was one my mother did pick out. I told Valerie her outfit was ugly. It was. She was starting to pick up a few pounds. Puberty does that sometimes. Later that day, a few of her drones surrounded me in the hall. How dare I call Valerie Ransom’s outfit ugly? They were just words, but like any bully Valerie couldn’t take it. Looking back, it was also evidence of how hung up and insecure she was.

To say Valerie hurt me was an understatement. I used to lock my door to my room and cry when I got home from school every day. However, when the flames of hell lick your heals you can stay put and be a victim or keep moving. I decided to keep moving. I was fortune to have a mother who reminded me junior high was not forever. In order not to kill Valerie Ransom and have her drones jump me, I decided the best course of action was to get a goal.

That Christmas, I got my first ventriloquist figure, a Groucho Marx puppet. I also began publishing a monthly column in the youth section of the local paper. After that, I became heavily involved in storytelling competitions. People told me I should pursue a career onstage, that my imagination was good. I told my mom this one day on our walks. To my mom’s credit she never told me no. She looked at me and said, “Baby, if you want to do that, you need to go to New York.”

I still remember the rain coming down, and knowing Valerie Ransom couldn’t get me if I didn’t let her. So I began working and producing content at the local public access station. I also spent time performing my ventriloquist act around town. My summers and weekends were spent building my resume. New York was the goal. As this became apparent, Valerie Ransom became an afterthought. When she saw she couldn’t take me down, Valerie moved her focus to someone else. The sad part was, Valerie’s new target let the Queen Bee destroy her, and for a time this young woman had to transfer schools. Whenever things got tough, I remembered I couldn’t let Valerie win, and that’s what kept me going.

As things improved for me, life was getting ready to serve Valerie Ransom a helping of humble pie. While on the outside she was the stereotypical cheerleader mean girl that everyone hated, within she was a frightened child who had more issues than anyone knew. The caboose kid in a family where her siblings were much older, Valerie had been an accident in a marriage already on the rocks. Her parents divorced when she was a baby. As a result, Valerie had a mother who spoiled her rotten, rarely disciplining let alone grounding her. Valerie’s father was a successful doctor, but resented his daughter’s existence. While his practice was minutes away from our school, he rarely picked his daughter up. Sure, Dr. Ransom paid child support and then some, but he was busy with his new girlfriend who was barely legal herself. Valerie just got in the way. As a result, Valerie had as many daddy issues as a dancer at The Pink Pony.

Valerie’s grades slipped, and not because she wasn’t capable. It was because she was getting an “A” in chasing male attention. Valerie was shameless about pursuing this high, too. She sat with the boys in homeroom, and as the school year edged on had less and less female friends. It was all the attention her dad wasn’t giving her. What was worse was Valerie was hanging out with high school boys, some of my brother Wendell’s friends to be exact. Wendell was always reticent about Valerie, and was never a part of that crowd himself. However, he warned several of his friends to be careful and reminded them that this eager beaver was the same age I was. That kept his conscience clear and his friends out of trouble.

So what happened next was no surprise to anyone looking back. Valerie was curvy and busty, but not fat. Sure, a little chubby, but in a cute kind of way. However, she was in love with one boy, Seth Mallard. A star basketball player who was a year older, Valerie was hot on him and Seth was eager to lead her on because Valerie made herself all too available. Women desperate for affection with low self-worth always do, FYI. Also, Valerie was becoming notoriously clingy, another downside of the negative self-image thing. To get rid of her, Seth told her she was fat and ugly.

Valerie didn’t cry. She didn’t even fight back. Instead, she dropped 40 pounds almost overnight. Her once healthy figure was replaced by a stick girl. One bubbly, outgoing, and someone who was a personality, Valerie now barely spoke above a whisper. She was tired all the time. Before, Valerie was a star cheerleader who was a decent tumbler. Now she had the energy of a cancer patient on the field and struggled through the routine. Right away, students began to gossip like a British tabloid.

Valerie Ransom’s name was followed by the noun anorexia. Yes, the Lifetime Movie subject, or the illness that killed Karen Carpenter. Valerie was every inch the poster child. She was popular, a cheerleader, and all the guys liked her. Everyone was aghast and abuzz as this bag of bones made it’s way down the hall. “It’s terrible Seth said that to her, now she’s going to die!” Kaley Barnes, an overdramatic semi-popular girl stated. “How could he!?”

Danielle Barrens, a friend of mine from church and CCD was also a cheerleader. Despite the fact we were so different, we had been friends since we were kids. Like myself, Danielle was not a big Valerie fan. “I know I should feel bad but this is so ironic because she was just so mean to a lot of people.” Danielle said to me one day.

I nodded. This was true. Danielle continued. “Everyone is acting like this is the story of the century because she is popular. The truth is, it’s not about what Seth said. Her parents are fucked up and crazy. They think feeding her a cookie is going to solve all this.” My friend wasn’t a psychologist but she was right. Eating disorders are more about what’s going on in the inside than the outside, and Valerie Ransom was screaming for help.

When the cheerleading coach told Valerie if she gained weight she would add her back to the roster, this motivated Valerie. Slowly, she ate again and her color returned. It also seemed her overall state was improving, probably through the help of therapy. No one loses that much weight without being mandated to a shrink, FYI. Even though Valerie had been mean to me and there was a part of me that delighted in her downfall, I was glad to see her on the upswing.

However, Valerie began to eat like a starving child that had never seen food, and in a plot line akin to Tina Fey’s Mean Girls the weight began to pile on. Soon Valerie Ransom was two and a half times her original size. Sure, some of it was that her body was nutrient deprived, but also now she was probably bingeing to deal with her issues. While it is sad now but was funny then, she didn’t just take a slice of humble pie but the whole damn bakery.

Instead of getting back on track, Valerie continued to slip further and further into the hole. She abandoned her cheerleader aspirations because it required achievement, something she had become allergic to.  While she still retained her place in the popular crowd she was no longer Queen Bee but was forced to take her a subservient position as a drone. The new Queen Bee types tolerated her, but made fun of her expanding waistline and desperate attempts to gain male attention when she wasn’t present. Of course Valerie became easier than ever, and her nickname amongst the popular guys was “Street Meat.” In order to make herself cooler, Valerie began to party hard and really hit home running with the drugs.

Previously, Valerie was an average student, and now she just plain sucked. She was lucky she could breathe in her nose and out of her mouth. Much of this was because she had wanted to impress boys so much that studying had become an afterthought and then nonexistent. Then of course, there was the waking and baking she now did before school that made her an extra high space cadet with moon boots and all.

One day I was in a history class when our teacher was asking us about the Civil War, and which black leaders were instrumental. The subject was the Underground Railroad, and we were talking about Fredrick Douglas.

Mr. Reardon called on Valerie because it seemed she was sleeping yet again. “I know the answer. It was Martin Luther King who went to Abraham Lincoln to free the slaves. He marched on Washington and everything!” She exclaimed with extra stupid confidence that only a complete moron could possess. We all exchanged glances. Was this bitch for real?

“You are like Kelly Bundy.” Mr. Reardon said. This Gulf War vet rolled his eyes back and the rest of us waited for this walking joke to write itself like it always did.

“Is it because I am pretty?” Valerie asked, vacant eyed. Yes, this bitch was for real.

 “No, because you are that dumb.” He replied. The rest of the class burst out laughing. Was this mean, kind of. But if you knew her and you were there, she was indeed asking for it. Then he made some crack about Valerie coming to class sober and said that in itself for be a scholastic victory.

Valerie had the ego reduction of having to settle for mere drone, and this woman had been Queen Bee since elementary school. There was no way she was going to let this happen without a fight. Every morning, the popular jocks stood in a circle in the hall before homeroom. Many girls fought to get into the interior of the circle, and in order to achieve this one had to date a football player or be a cheerleader. I never bothered with the circle razzmatazz, I had things to do. However, I was friends with the folks in it. Much of it had to do with the fact many of them were second or third generation football players, and their older siblings had played with my brother Wendell. Or their sisters had been friends with him, too. As a result, I had known their families and so it would have been classless for us not to say hello. Plus I was popular for being talented and achieving goals, and athletes respected that. Despite the media stereotype, I found all kids in extracurriculars that got involved kind of bonded.

As a matter of fact, Valerie had lost points with the football captains two weeks previous when she called the water boy, Benji, who had Down Syndrome, a “drooling retard.” Not only did these gentle jocks stick up for their special needs compatriot, but they let Valerie know that she was closer to her choice slur than Benji would ever be.

Valerie had been working for months to infiltrate the circle. Like many an eager young woman, she started on the outer layer and was now working her way back in. Every weekend, she would desperately serve as McDonalds to these popular guys, who had a bite only to throw her away like the cheap food she was. Sure, it was jerk of them, but she kept going back for more punishment. Of course, this also meant battling underclassmen admirers who weren’t nearly as needy let alone easy because they didn’t have to be.

Brian Garfield, a popular wide receiver saw me. His mother had run into my mother and found out I got a lead in The Wizard of Oz. Of course Brian’s sister was a freshmen and slated to be dance captain. He waved and in typical Garfield fashion yelled, “Brucker, WHAT THE FUCK!!! GET IN HERE AND GIMME A FUCKING HIGH FIVE! AWESOME FUCKING WORK ON THE WITCH!”

 I parted the inner circle for my high five that came with a brah hug of sorts. Most of the girls sighed apathetically, they knew I was friends with the guys but wasn’t circle competition so it didn’t phase them. However, Valerie was livid. All those weekends of degrading herself were not paying off the way she thought they would. For years, I had been an inferior being. Now here I was gaining access to the inner-circle with no work whatsoever. If looks could have killed, her eyes would have been a samurai sword waiting to behead me. At the time, I thought this was lame, because how could a person with a life not? However, when someone’s existence is that small and limited, an unintentional action like mine could be the ultimate act of cruelty.

Senior year Valerie and I had a Come to Jesus moment. It wasn’t planned on either one of our parts, either. The jocks had enough of Valerie, and between her trashiness, stupidity, clinginess, and other mess she brought they began to distance themselves from her. Plus she was hitting it harder than ever with the partying, so Valerie began to become a sort of darling of the stoner crowd. One dude in particular that Valerie was in love with was Bobby Parker.

Despite us being opposites, Bobby and I were friends. He was one of my original fans, and always thought the ventriloquism was neat. While Bobby had a girlfriend a district over, he always was eager to rescue me when I was in need. Word on the street was his girlfriend wasn’t keen on me and wanted to beat my ass. I knew he wasn’t mine, so I didn’t make a move. Valerie, who was always desperate for male love and affection, had other ideas. Bobby, who was actually quite bright, was the stoner king. While in several honors classes, his double life was steadily eating him up.

Valerie had hooked up with Bobby several weekends earlier, and she believed it was true love. Bobby was trying to lose her like an old pair of socks with several holes in them. That day, Valerie had scored a ride with Bobby, but he offered me one too in an attempt to buffer the ever desperate Valerie. It was no big deal to me, I always enjoyed Bobby Parker’s company because he cracked me up. To me, Valerie was just another passenger. Valerie, on the other hand, made no secret of the fact she utterly detested my presence. She made this clear by rolling her eyes every time I spoke as we made our journey to Bobby’s Cadillac.

“I call shotgun!” Valerie said when we got to the car. She glared at me letting me know I best not challenge her. Maybe Bobby was my friend, but she had slept with him and I hadn’t.

 “That’s fine.” I replied climbing into the back.

“April, you are my number 1. Don’t give up your seat to anyone.” Bobby said commanding Valerie into the back. She glowered at me.

“She called it, she can have it.” It was only a seat. Valerie glared at me, knowing that while I conceded she had still lost. To me it was just a seat, but to her this was everything. Her gut was hanging over her jeans, and the probability she would graduate was slim and none. Valerie was otherwise failing at life, if she wanted the front she could have it.

It worked out though. Valerie, like Bobby, smoked cigarettes and they could talk freely about their drug usage. This made Valerie happy, and maybe in her mind I wasn’t competition after all. Meanwhile, I was never even battling her to begin with which made the whole thing only completely insane and asinine.

Bobby pulled into the driveway of my house, and greeting me was a banner in the front yard. Purple, sparkling, and with big letters it said, “Congratulations April! You got into NYU!” I nearly fell out of Bobby’s car. Yes, I applied early decision and got in.

When I told my mother what I wanted to do, she told me I needed to go to New York. It was after Valerie had tormented me so badly that I needed to escape, and this made me find not only a niche, but a plan in life.

“Go girl! You’re gonna be famous!” Bobby said high fiving me. Then he gave me a hug. Note, he never hugged Valerie in public.

 “Congratulations, April.” Valerie said in a flat, monotone whisper. The look in her eyes was one I still cannot describe. She wasn’t jealous or angry, but certainly wasn’t happy for me either. Sure, all of her pettiness was never able to break me. However, the more painful truth was that being popular and having the fleeting sensation of male attention had been so important that she neglected to plan for life after high school. It was the realization that the future was not that far away, and time was not the friend she thought it was. 

She did graduate, by the skin of her teeth. After that I lost track of her, because why keep track of people you don’t like? The last I heard she was working as a waitress in a seedy motel, and had a boyfriend who never saw a crack pipe he didn’t like.

For years I harbored a lot of resentment towards Valerie for being the mean spirit she was, but now I see someone who was troubled, pathetic, and lost. Yet Valerie’s value in my life is not lost on me. They say when you meet someone you don’t like, it’s a lesson in how you don’t want to act. Now that I am getting the things I always worked for in my career, the temptation to be a Valerie Ransom is very real and it is there. Then I remember how it felt to be on the losing end of that, and perhaps this is why I am so quick not only to confront a bully, but also to give them their medicine.

On the other hand, Valerie Ransom has served as a partial inspiration for May Wilson, perhaps the most famous of my puppet children. Like Valerie once did, now May sings, “April has no friends.” May and I did this several years ago for a video, and a DJ even mastered a remix. The song has become a regular part of my act, and now the audience joins in. HA! More than anything, if it weren’t for Valerie Ransom, I would have never found what my passion was, and I would have never had the courage let alone drive to come to New York.

To Valerie Ransom, wherever she is, I want to say thank you. Without your efforts, I would have never found a direction let alone dream. However, I harbor no hate toward you, and I am not glad your life turned out the way it did. Instead, I hope and pray you find happiness and peace, as well as life outside of your place in the circle, a guys back seat, or your place at the bathroom mirror. 

www.aprilbrucker.com

Two Girls: One Cup-Omaha

I was twenty one years old and never featured. However, a booker found me online and asked me to feature. It wasn’t about me being ready. They needed more female comedians and I seemed semi-funny. The booker, an ardent chauvinist, informed me that they had two female comedians, both of which sucked. He begged me not to suck, plus he liked the ventriloquist thing.

The booker saw me perform and stated, "You are funny.....for a woman." While this backhand to the act I worked so hard on and my gender struck a nerve, I didn't take it personally. From the look of it he learned how to walk upright and speak only a week ago. Being a female comedian you get used to slights about your gender. You get used to male comedians, bookers, and managers who think you are just an open pair of legs that say "Enter, I am Desperate for Your Love." When really the sign should read, "Enter, Please Give Me a Night of Disappointment." Nonetheless, in time you learn to laugh about it. Still, I passed the test and didnt suck. I could live with that.

The whole weekend was a drunken blur. What I mean was there was a lot of drinking going on. I hadn’t meant to drink but did. Thursday my intent was to stay stone cold sober, but a waitress asked what beer I wanted. I wasn’t a beer drinker. Why did she want to know? She informed me that an audience member wanted to buy me a beer. Buy me a beer? Was I hearing this correctly? Anyway I ended up getting totally trashed on Skyline, a beer made and brewed in the Midwest. Friday night it was getting even more trashed on a mix of Skyline and Jack Daniels. I performed two killer sets and in my carelessness left May Wilson at the club. Don’t feel bad. She was totally hammered. Nonetheless, the club owner, who had two daughters cautioned me never to trust anyone I met on the road. I was a “pretty young woman and they all had motives.”

But they could all have shady motives. I was twenty one, had recently gotten out of a horrendous relationship, and wanted more than anything to meet a man with shady motives as long as he had a few dollars. Right?

My final night there a man approached me. He was creepy and looked like the distant cousin of Sling Blade. This man was from Counsel Bluffs, a rival town that everyone made fun of. They called it Counseltucky. Counsel Bluffs was a bit up the road. Anyway, he said he read about myself and May Wilson and wanted to see us live. He mentioned he was a fan of ventriloquism and had been since he was a kid. Then after my set, which the crowd was tired because they had been Labor Day pAArtying, he bought me a beer, Skyline to be exact. We chatted a while. The owner wasn’t there, and he was my guardian angel when it came to these creepy male admirers. But the owner didn’t like it when I drank Skyline or alcohol for that matter, especially when I mixed it with Jack Daniels. The owner was a killjoy, always trying to ruin my fun in an overprotective way.

This man was a fan, however.

We began talking and for as creepy as Sling Blade was, I began to like him as he told me that while I was good it was clear I was much too smart for the Midwest. This man made me feel beautiful, especially since the ex before him did nothing but cheat and lie. Nevermind I had embarked on a relationship that was doomed to end in disaster with an alcoholic who had borderline personality disorder, refused to work and wanted women to support him. My picker was not broken. Hell no. Slightly creepy but harmless I could deal with.

Sling Blade then asked how my money situation was. As a comedian I am perpetually broke, so I made a joke about it. Then Sling Blade proposed that he could assist me. Sling Blade mentioned he lived two hours up the road. He said he would give me two hundred dollars to spend the night. There was one catch though, it was a three some. While the ex before him had dated strippers and did nothing but slam that in my face, I on the other hand was sort of naïve as to what was going on. I asked who the third woman would be. Sling Blade then said, “You’re puppet of course.”

“You’re kidding.” I said not believing him.

“No, I think you are beautiful and I think the puppet is a kinky touch. I believe in helping a woman out.” That’s when Sling Blade reached into his pocket and flashed two one hundred dollar bills. He was serious. Just to make sure I knew he flashed them again. For as tipsy as the Skyline and Jack Daniels was making me, I suddenly began to sober up. I needed money to travel and had burnt some making this trip. This would give me some mad money. The greed button began to set it.Then I realized that he was asking me to engage in what is known as prostitution, and all the hours in church began to take over. I couldn't do this. I needed the money but I didnt want to be a whore. May was the whore. I pinched myself to make sure this was all real. It was live and in color. SHIT!

“My farm house is up the road. Come on.” He told me. Suddenly I knew how this was going to end. A girl, her puppet, and a creepy guy who owned a farm house. Answer, six o’clock news and a Lifetime Movie where it was revealed he preyed on women only to stuff them and make them into puppets..

At that moment it occurred to me why the club owner hated the fact I was drinking the way I was and why he had given me the advice he did. This was going to be a good story, so good that I was probably going to die at the end. All I could picture was May Wilson lying face down in the corn field with her stuffing cut out of her in the center of a crop circle. As for me, well in Ed Gein style the man might have been nice enough to make me into a chair or cushion. I am a practical woman that way. The entire time, I could hear my mother telling the world on national television about how her beautiful daughter was destined to do great things until Sling Blade murdered her. In between May without her stuffing, me as a chair, and the echo of my mother’s tears from the future I made some stupid excuse about having to go and bolted.

While he had come down kind of hard on me, at that moment I knew that club owner was a friend. While he was with his family that night, I was glad he was in my corner watching out for me. In my youthful stupidity I had underestimated how sick and twisted people could be. This man was a predator, preying on my obvious lack of life experience and lack of sobriety at the moment. Still, I was out two hundred dollars and was broke. Had I done the right thing?

Just then I heard May Wilson saying from her case, “Two hundred dollars. As in one hundred for me and one hundred for you? I don’t work cheap. Make it five hundred for me. I am not only a classy lady but did you think I might need dry cleaned after the experience. You are cheap and selfish. Didn’t you ever think about my needs?”

That is when I definitely knew I did the right thing. Recently, on a limb, May Wilson and I have been telling the story onstage and it has been killing. Hey, we are killing because we didn’t get killed. We definitely did the right thing.

Did I mention we are still broke?

Love, April

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

877-Buy-Book

www.buybooksontheweb.com

Another Photo Essay

TV STARZ

Yes it is all your fault. You stood me up now I am telling the world!

There was a fan and no nudity involved in the taking of this shot

We are going to Broadway and Hollywood baby!

"Soon, the grave cave ate will be/at home on me." Sylvia Plath

"And I said , heyyyy what's goin on?" Four Non Blondes

"I dwell in possibility/a fairer house than prose/more numerous of windows-superior-for doors...." Emily Dickinson

Two girls against the world

Hassan is better than a boyfriend. He buys me steak and doesn;t make me sleep with him

April's Weekly Countdown

WINNER OF THE WEEK

In honor of Father’s Day, the winner of the week title belongs to my Daddoo. Or my dad as I call him. Not only is he now sporting the Yankees hat I sent him, but he has some of the best quotes of all time. My all time favorite pertains to a guy I once dated, “April, when someone says that they are misunderstood, it means they are an asshole and everyone knows it.” William G. Brucker you rock! Happy Father’s Day after the day dad!

L to R: Me, Mrs. Janet Hill (Mama to Grant Hill), my sister Brenna and my Dad at the 2008 Heisman Trophy Awards

LOSER OF THE WEEK

The loser of the week goes to Anthony Weiner. He has a hot young wife who is expecting a baby, a position of power, and goes flashing his hot dog to porn stars. Dude, you are a dousche. So glad you stepped down. I hope your wife leaves you. That way you and Palmela will be making great friends. In the words of Pink it will be you and your hand tonite.

Hey Mr. Weiner, you made a real dick mess.

GUILTY PLEASURE OF THE WEEK

I have to say Teen Pregnancy is my guilty pleasure of the week. My new favorite Lifetime eat my iced cream film is Fifteen and Pregnant with Kirsten Dunst before she was what Perez Hilton terms the Drunkst. Basically it is about a girl who gets knocked up by a slick guy with a fast car and ruins her life and how the heartache draws her family together. Laced with the feminist agenda on how religion makes women stupid when it comes to birth control and how you should probably have the abortion because sometimes life is a pain in the ass choice, it makes me all the more grateful for this white trash inspired cinema. Hey, who else can start high school as a mommy.

Young girls, if you live in a trailor stay away from a guy with a fast car and lots of gel in his hair. It will not end well.

My other guilty pleasure is 16 and Pregnant on MTV. These girls are all naïve with their heads in the clouds and therefore it is no wonder they spread their legs. The teen fathers don’t want to get their shit together and instead would like to spend all the live long day playing video games. These children have no chance. If I were their mothers I would inject those girls with birth control. Or I would encourage them to raise the children alone and say that their father died in the war. Better yet, go to the clinic and get that shit scraped out. Or if it was too late to GIVE THE CHILD UP FOR ADOPTION. Yes adoption is an alternative. I have six cousins who are adopted and all well cared for. Possibly the product of situations like this. But wow, some of these girls are total trainwrecks. A boyfriend who races motor cross will not support you or an infant. However, as you go into labor on your quad Maci, it is entertaining as hell to see you wreck your life. I am keeping my eyes glued.

Oh yes, who needs a condom with you have MTV? I want to see some of these girls on Maury in a few years

STUD MUFFIN OF THE WEEK

Raheem Self Paid Lee or Mr. Good Bar. Yes, Mr. Good Bar made an appearance in my music video “Shuttlecock.” It is a dirty song that is about something else not so dirty. If you know sports with racquets use your brain. Nonetheless, I have to admit, Mr. Good Bar was nice to look at. And even nicer when he appeared in Playgirl. Made me wonder why I gave up candy cause my gosh I want to take a bite. Yum yum.

Take a bite of that yum yum chocolate!

SONG OF THE WEEK

FRIDAY BY KATY PERRY

Okay Katy, I no longer hate you. I love your new track. I think if we met we would be friends. You hate Jesus Freaks and so do I.

Get me one of those lollipops and Russel Brand while you are at it.

CRAZY BITCH OF THE WEEK

I stopped into Lush and one of the women working there told me she was still in love with her ex who was recently married. She named the date too and even told me that now that he was married and she truly loved him she had to accept that he was gone forever. Then she also told me she went through six months of grief counseling to deal with this as she was soaping up my hands. Wow, no wonder he left your ass. After telling me she was still stalking him she said, “Now lets talk about Lush.” OKAY!

You and your pet bunny will never be safe from the clutches of this mad woman again!

EVENT OF THE WEEK

Ghetto Chronicles with DWIT. Mark your calenders for this Saturday at the Joria Theatre. I will be opening two shows with them. One at 4, one at 8. The address is 260 West 36^th st. It’s a great show and I am making my grand return with them. The bonus is, this time I wont be going to the show with a regrettable looking date. However, I do want a hottie on my arm. Perhaps one that I have been talking to. Hmmmm

You so ghetto. Damn straight I am!

HAIR STYLE OF THE WEEK

The hair style of the week goes to May Wilson who recently got a new do. Not only is she rocking and rolling with her new locks but she told me she no longer needs me. I put the bitch on TV, I get her street cred, and she tells me I would be nothing without her. What a diva! Nonetheless she is rocking it out with that new hair. Gotta love a girl who is stuffed and unstrung.

May Wilson, passed out after a long night of drinking and drugging. However, her hair still looks fierce

Despite all the sex her hair is not bed messed.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK

“I am not a ho. I have only slept with men out of love and lust.” Nathaniel Mitchell

Love you much brown sugar xxoooxoxo

FRIEND OF THE WEEK

Marcus Yi for writing me funny songs and making me look beautiful and sexy on video. Love you my Asian boy toy. xoxoxo

Love me my Marcus xooxo

This is my weekly countdown. Enjoy! xoxoxoxoxoxo