Carving My Own Path

My name is April Brucker. I will admit I idolize Mae West. We are kind of built alike and have the same look, although I could only dream of being as awesome. I still remember the first time I saw her on my screen. I was ten years old and my family didn't have cable. Instead we had three channels and PBS. To live on Foxtail Lane you were a thinker. We were not television watchers by any means. Instead, we read. I was in fourth grade and had a high school reading level. It's not that I was smart. I was simply anti-social.

However, we were decorating our Easter Bonnets on the rare occasion we were allowed television. Sometimes my home could be like a POW camp. TV was a reward for a week's work. You could lose your reward through bad grades, bad behavior, and even worse, a run in with the guard aka my parents. Gluing the flowers on my bonnet, I remember a beautiful woman graced my screen. Talking through the side of her mouth she said, "Come up and see me sometime, any old time."

My dad explained that was Mae West. He said she was a comedian and actress well known in her day. The film was in black and white. This was different than the noisy, color television and cartoons we were sentenced to as modern beings. I was sucked in. My dad asked if we knew how old she was. We guessed her 20s. My Pops said she was in her 40s. Wowsa she was hot.

My favorite Mae West pic of all time

Fast forward to high school. I still remember having pictures of my idols, specifically Mae West, plastered all over my mirrors and walls. Sometimes they were even on my ceiling. I read about her, and did lots of reports whenever I could on her. What I liked is that the world was closed to people like us. People like her because she didn't look like a flapper at a time it called for that. People like me for the same reason. I knew that if I were to go anywhere, it would be my own way. I had puppets and I had dreams. Call me crazy but hey, it worked for Jeff Dunham.

Years later, fast forward, I moved to New York City. Things seemed to come together and fall apart all at once. It was shortly before I turned 26. Chacho and I had a falling out, and shortly thereafter he died a brutal drug related death. My roommate Nikki had a nervous breakdown over a man and moved back in with her mother. And I was set to do a show in Woodside, Queens at Neirs Tavern. It was a stormy night, and a tornado had come through that borough. Going to and from the gig was going to be quite difficult. However, my life sucked. I had to go. Getting onstage always made everything better.

When I got there I remember being the only comedian who showed up. May Wilson and I did a set. They asked me if May was named for Mae West and they said no. Then I was informed once upon a time before she became who she was, Mae West had performed there. My mouth dropped open. When I was 17 the cards were down and I was cast as the Witch in The Wizard of Oz, a musical containing a twister. My hero had been Mae West. Could this be another turning point?

Two weeks later I got a call. My puppet children and I had been chosen to be on TLC.

From there we did a press tour, I worked at an online television station, and I wrote my book. I also covered a song that was number one on internet radio.

Now I am at another turning point. I have dreamed of playing theatres since forever. A year and a half ago, shortly before the release of my book, I was ready to quit standup forever. I could do music and would make my videos. I could write. Then another comedian suggested that I do theatres, and told me that's where I belonged. Immediately I remembered dreaming about that since forever too. But how would that happen?

Pic inspired by the one above

Recently, it has been happening. I filmed a DVD and am doing my first big theatre gig on Long Island this weekend. The idea of being under the lights and having adoring fans is every performer's dream. But what if they hated my guts? This is a real fear in my line of work. Walking down the street, I had a panic attack and lost my ability to speak. Tears began to fall down my cheeks. I felt like the awkorkable ugly duckling from Foxtail Lane again.

Then I remember what we fear most never happens. Another dream I had since my brother Wendell played high school football was working in sports broadcasting. This was cemented in my mind when I attended the Heisman's with my sister Skipper. Recently, this door has opened through Ranter. I feared the male talking heads would regard me as an inferior. That hasn't happened yet. Every once in a while I make a joke and mix things up in my mind cause I think fast. But I haven't been dropped yet, and am starting to fit in quite well.

When I got home I looked at my bathroom door and saw a familiar figure, gleaming smile and black hat. She was giving me her blessing to take the next step. Yeah, I have always been a big mouthed woman in a man's world. I have always been the only one like me, which sometimes works to my favor but sometimes has been a detriment because people don't know how to peg me. Yeah, I have always been an oddball. Yeah, I have had some rough shit happen in my life, too. However, I lived through all of it and came out still slugging. I was always a fighter, and will always be.

I didn't let fear of failure stop me from moving to New York and chasing my star.

Mae West didn't let hederosexism and the myth of youthful supremacy stop her. Hell, she didn't even let jail get in her way. And we both like to cause trouble on a national scale. Watch my Rachael Ray clip.

As she smiled my way, I knew I was going to be alright. I knew I wasn't being taken this far in order to be dropped. I am going to the next level baby!

Now for the love of God, God don't drop me!!

Love 

April

www.aprilbrucker.com

Come see me at the Soluna Theatre, May 30-31 Happague, Long Island

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

Check out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon

The Passing Storm

This past week has been hellacious to say the least. Between money troubles, career uncertainty, shitty people harassing me and other shit I have to deal with, it has been a struggle. I would jump out the window but I might live. I would jump in front of a train but the thing might be local. I would stick my head in an oven but my oven is electric. You get the picture. In the words of Dorothy Parker, "You might as well live."

The cherry on top of the cake was a career disappointment. I wanted and needed this opportunity very badly. Fame has not alluded me. Money however has. This would have given me both. Despite my status as a reality star, I am broke. When my show was sold, I didn't get a dime. Actually, my show was sold many times. I am grateful for the exposure, the fans, and the people I have met. I am grateful fans know me on the street. I am grateful when someone tells me how they love my puppets. 

I am hardly being greedy. Someone who bought my show owns an island, I don't own a bed and cannot afford a TV to watch myself. This opportunity would have brought me to the next level and would have given me some financial security. What infuriates me is that I came so close. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride. 

There is nothing worse than having someone tell you how funny you were on television, and then having your rent check bounce. Or reading your fan mail and then wondering how to feed yourself. Or seeing a booker or show producer who fired you because they were jealous that they were never going to get your level of exposure using your picture to promote their shit. Let's not forget it being hard to find a more lucrative day job because employers have either seen you on TV or know you are going to leave, or customers recognize you and you become a distraction. And then it's, "Sorry, you're fired."

There was no tab for broke and famous. Granted, I know the money will come. I hate to sound like Scrooge, but it really sucks when you get paid shit and the man who owns the network drives away in a Beamer. 

However, I have some other doors opening for me which are nice. A booker I work with has some children's puppet shows he wants to book me on. I want to do these, because I want to work with children. Also, I have a teaching artist job I just landed bringing puppetry to drug addicts and others in prisons and mental health facilities. Additionally, I just landed a job as a talking head on an internet sports startup. Oh, and I have a photo shoot for a Billboard. So things are starting to turn around.

Also, I have another opportunity in the works that is quite amazing with my puppets. No news there yet, but hoping to get some. So yeah, it is getting better. Just not as fast as I would like it to be. But yeah, the weather is getting warmer. Maybe my luck will continue to get brighter too. 

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


Come see me April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W, 22nd st. 

Can't Always Win the Trophy

This whole week has been insane. Everyone has been pulling me different ways. Sometimes they both yank my scalp at the same time. Sometimes they yank my arms. I guess this is what happens when you have a career. People expect you to do things. There have been some things that have been hard. Namingly people. Some are overdemanding. Some are children who happen to have adult bodies and want what they want and they want it NOW. Of course there are those who just want me to be two places at once. Or then there are those who value their personal lives more than their careers therefore expecting me to pick up the slack because they choose to get laid. Yes, I will say it. When you choose ass you are an ass.

Some of it is being a perfectionist. I was always a good student. I was always driven. Some of it is being a woman. I am raised to be a people pleaser because of my gender. We all are. Of course being a woman who takes a leadership position I have to be "nice" because then I am labeled a "bitch."

Yesterday I was forced to choose between two engagements. Both were good. One I had booked weeks in advance and the other was a last minute thing. I could have done both but the second moved to CT. I tried. Then the first one was cancelled. I had to see if I could get the second but a coworker of mine had already booked it. It's fine. It wasn't in the cards. Fuck me for trying to make everyone happy. Then I booked another gig, but had to cancel that because they decided the first one was back on. At the end of the day I wanted to fuck everyone with a big, black dildo. Not just any big black dildo, a monster dong. And it was going anal baby!

On top of that I went into my other folder and saw fifty unanswered fan letters. The thing about having fans is that you always want to make them happy because they love you without knowing you which is magic. I love to get to know them and insist on answering every letter personally. I am always so afraid of disappointing my fans too in a way. Everyone is when they first get a following. I always want to put out things that speak to them. And then I wonder, will my fans think I am tall enough? Stupid stuff. That made me feel like a failure.

As I was bemoaning my problems on the sidewalk, a nice construction worker type saw me. I was literally crying there like a mature adult. This construction worker dude saw me and asked me what was wrong. I wanted to tell him to get fucked. I was in no mood to talk to men. That is when he picked up my laundry bag and carried it to the laundromat. The annoying feminist in me shut up and thanked him. I admitted I was overwhelmed at work. That is when he told me he managed fifty one buildings in Manhattan and wished he had a zipper in the center of him because he too, was being pulled every which way.

I felt better for a bit and then melted down like a mature adult to my mother on the phone. My mom put it in perspective. That if I wasnt in NYC I wouldn't have either opportunity. I told my mother how overwhelmed I felt and she said that sometimes when good things happen they can smother us. My mother however, was quick to point out one must always have perspective. That keeps you grateful and keeps you from losing your mind. I have always insisted God speaks through my mother. While she drives me nuts-calling me as early as 6 AM sometimes because she is organizing one of my book signings-she is the woman who gave birth to me so she's allowed.

While I lost the high profile star studded gig I got some great news from LA on a project I am doing. It actually made up for the fact I lost the star studded gig.

The day ended with me crying to a friend of mine over a slice of pizza in the village again. Note, there was a lot of crying yesterday. My friend reminded me that our best is all we can do. She also reminded me about how I always wanted this career and should be grateful I am WORKING. I told my friend I was still Naomi Campbell cellphone throwing pissed. That is when my friend stated, "April, you can't always win the trophy."

My friend was right. I couldn't always win for as much as I wanted to. She also stated that these days, while I was concerned about letting my fans down, I had fans and I needed to concentrate on that. While I am still getting used to the idea of an assistant, I have one of those too.

I have the dreams and the career I have always wanted. Some of it is getting used to the demands of my new life. I know I will be fine. I am a workaholic. I also think deep down it's that fear that I don't deserve anything good. A fear that I won't get what I want while at the same time fearing I will get what I want. And then on top of that excited that things are falling into place after years of planning, paying my dues, poverty, and hard work. And then there is a part of me that wonders if this is real. But it is...

I just think for as crazy as everyone is making me, I have to remember to keep things in perspective, have an attitude of gratitude.

But also that I can't always win the trophy.

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

Kiss My Ass-Another Fan Encounter

I was walking down the street in my Hell's Kitchen neighborhood when this woman walks by in her leather boots. She was fierce I tell you, Sasha Fierce, Fiercy McFierston. Anyway I complimented her on her boots and she had a male companion with her. He turns around and says, "You're that puppet chick from TLC!?!? I just saw you on TV." WOWSA. JUST SAW ME ON TV?!?!? Sure my puppet kiddies and I have been on the tele quite a few times in America as well as the rest of the planet but I still get warm and fuzzy when I hear it.

"Yes, that would be me." I said sheepishly.

I got Sonny out, the man who lives rent free in my purse. The man who is always trying to pick up women but is never successful. The man who is and always will be a bachelor. The puppet destined to be the 40 year old virgin of our generation. So the girl who is mad fierce begins talking to Sonny. She asks if Sonny thinks that she is cute and Sonny says yes. She asks if Sonny can send her flowers and Sonny says he doesn't pay for women anymore, that they must take him out to dinner. So the girl says this is unacceptable and the only way Sonny can win favor with her is to kiss her butt. Now I don't know what is crazier. The fact that this woman is talking to Sonny as if he were a real man, the fact that I don't know what to do, or the fact her gay friend is getting this whole thing on camera!

"Kiss my ass puppet. You know you want to." She says and points to her derriere. So I know what to do, the camera is on. Sonny kisses her butt.

"Buy me flowers by two o'clock." She commanded and Sonny promised he would. The two walked off into the sunset and I found myself smiling. The whole thing is still cracking me up.

But Sonny is the typical man. Getting physical action and then making promises that he never intends to keep.

Sigh.....

I told them to follow me on twitter. Perhaps they will buy my book.

Either way, I am (almost) a superstar. Better ride that cloud. I have a sink that needs Drano and when I get home tomorrow my mother is going to make me cook, clean, and vacuum.

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