RIP Twinkie

This is my eulogy to the Twinkie, my forbidden friend and lover. I come today not to praise Twinkie but to bury him. He has lived a good long life. It has been quite a love affair. There were other women, there were other men. It sounds so salacious but it really is love plain and simple. Everyone loved Twinkie. Actually, his full name is Twinkie Hostess. He had a lesser known but equally as loved sister Little Debbie who has passed on too, but she is not significant enough to have a eulogy.

I first met Twinkie when I was but a lass. Growing up outside of Pittsburgh we were forbidden to eat you. My mother was a gym teacher/exercise nut and she said you were bad. But you know how I tend to like men who are bad for me, men who have issues. Maybe you started this craze. When I was seven I tasted you for the first time, every creamy layer. I liked you. You gave me comfort. You said you were never going to put fat on my thighs. Like all men you lie, but I liked the lies you told. I was hooked on you Twinkie.

My father made fun of you after my piano teacher- a mentally unstable woman-stayed in bed after a break up and cancelled our lesson. He joked that she ate an entire box of you. I know I would have. Twinkie, you understood our feelings. You were the comforter, friend, and destroyer of all heart broken women. You were there to listen, there to relieve, and there to pack on the extra pounds so we would never have a man again. It didn't matter though, we had you as well as your sister Lifetime.

There were good times. There was sixth grade when someone brought in a box for their birthday. You helped us celebrate the special day and made it so much brighter. There was seventh grade when I split one of you at a forensics match and made a new friend. You were always helping me to make new friends. You were a bit of a man whore because you didnt care that women shared you. But Twinkie, you were unselfish that way and that's why we loved you.

There were also the times you saved my life. Yes, it was true. At seventeen I was working at a supermarket and feeling lightheaded. You were the first thing I grabbed and gave me a nice energy boost. Then at nineteen I got really drunk with my college friends and was falling over. I didn't know alcohol could act that fast. I needed to eat something to sober me up so I had three of you. I know it sounds shameful but it's true. You were delicious and perhaps it should have been on some Triple X super lovers sight, but who couldn't love a man who came in a whole box the way I loved you?


As I got older and more of you equaled more trips to the gym, I stopped buying boxes. I just got the two pack. You made me laugh again after a bad night of standup. You were the man to rescue me and ruin my waistline after a breakup. You were the only man in the world who could sit there and watch Lifetime Movies and let me eat him and let me tell you it sounds so dirty but there are so many women in my same damn boat.

I sit in my cold, damp apartment. I am writing this blog late into the night naked. I am watching reruns of Soul Food seasons 1-5. I cleaned my house and ate real food, food that fits on the Food Pyramid in health class under categories that are not other. Life is not the same as you can see. I am a wreck without you.

Some called you a simple carbohydrate, meaning you gave a spike in energy and then it faded. But your charm was eternal. Professionals who made their lives making people physically fit like my mother condemned you outright as a bad food, but you were a bad food with a good heart. Then there were men like my brother who ate boxes of you and wouldn't share, selfishly hogging your goodness because they needed to put the weight on to play football. And people like my sister, a runner and academic who viewed you as a snack, a slam to what you really were. Of course there were those who OD'ed on your lovin and had to go to OA and count days off of your sweetness. But all of this and more don't even begin to explain what you were to me and so many others. Twinkie, you were a man of many layers.

I am distraught without you, distraught.

In the background I play the old R and B song, "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?"

I am a shell of a woman. Hostess murdered you! TWINKIE I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU!

But then I remember all Twinkies go to heaven and you will always be my special star. The man who was misunderstood. The one who got me through breakups, makeups, drunken nights, made me friends, and was the best to watch Lifetime with.

RIP Twinkie. It has been a good run

Check out my book
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com

Available on Amazon

Triple Negative

The past two days have been negative man days. I don't know what it is but it's like they know where to find me now that my life is somewhat on track. It's weird, the whole negative man thing. Then again, negative men are like cancer, they always spread their disease and attack when you are most vulnerable.

Emotional cancer.

Two days ago I got a text from Holden Caulfield. I hadn't heard from him since he called me high on some substance where he was clearly up for days. Apparently he had been living with some older woman and being her kept man-his dream. Anyway, despite life on the lamb (yes the lamb) Holden would still keep in touch. Part of me does still love him. He is a troubled soul with a good heart. Addiction and bi-polar are a killer combo. Well Holden texts me, his Jane Gallagher, under his Hawaii number to tell me that he has six months clean. There is a part of me that still loves him. Holden was able to just put up with my crap in a way most men were not. Plus there was a part of me that had a heart of ice after a failed engagement. Holden was able to melt that ice. But I had to ask myself if I was ready to deal with the baggage of his six months of sobriety. The continual psych appointments? The getting him on the right meds? His legal troubles which still havent been sorted out and not to mention over 60k in back child support.

I had to ask myself and love was not enough. The answer was no.

Then as I went to get things sorted out with my land lord over my Sandy emergency with my bank I was exiting the office and saw another old male acquaintance. I had known him from that twenty-two year old interesting phase in my life. He had befriended me when things were going crazy in my life. Anyway, I said hi and he started talking and babbling on about how he was working as a waiter. Not to mention he already wanted to take me out for New Years Eve. Where Mr. Waiter, somewhere that we either eat for free or that I foot the bill? It had been a long time since I had seen him and there was something wrong. He smelled funny and looked weird. Then I figured it out. He was drunk! It wasn't even ten in the morning yet! Damn! Wait until you at least hit noon. Sure I felt like I needed my old friend Jack Daniels after the horrible financial errand but I was going to be okay. And I wasn't going to meet my friend. Point is, we all have our moments but the key is not to hit the damn bottle before ten in the damn morning.

I made an excuse and made a bolt for it. I didnt like what I was feeling.

Yesterday morning I woke up and got an email from guess who? My ex fiance. In my grief over the anni of my buddy Chacho's passing I made the decision to unblock my whole blocked list. It was grief and stress that had mutated. Not to mention being shut in my damn apartment. I glanced at the pages of everyone on my unblocked list, ex included. Sure enough he and some angry woman were talking and he was saying I had problems. Nevermind the fact he was emotionally abusive, physically abusive, and verbally abusive. Just edit the story if you will to edit out the fact I have a different mailing address. Well the ex writes me to say that as long as I keep unblocking him he is going to keep writing to apologize to me. Part of me is glad he's sorry but I know it's insincere. Plus it's funny this comes after my many TV appearances, release of book, and other good fortune. But alas, he will never be a safe contact. So I reblocked him and he is blocked forever. My ex is sick. When we broke up I tried to be his friend, and when I began seeing other men he began stalking and harassing me.

Plus Chacho would have never wanted me to grieve. Mascara, unless water proof, is not meant to be worn during crying. And in the words of Chacho, "One of the big reasons you have a boyfriend is because they are supposed to get you presents."

Either way, my triple negative is out of the way and I told them all no. They say God tests you, but a woman who is like a spiritual adviser to me says the devil is the one who does the testing. Well the devil tested me three times and I passed. Perhaps he can go bother a different woman, one who apparently loves jerks as much as I do.

I do deserve someone nice. Someone with no drug problems, no criminal record/current troubles with the law, no one that has any mental health issues and a part time job would be fantastic.

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

Pictures From Book Signing Event

Great night last night. Thanks to everyone who came out and made it a success. To many more. Big A. you are the best. You touched May Wilson and well, she is still talking about it. You are the most awesome man on the radio. Opie and Anthony should be happy to have you. I know you are the bestest friend ever. Thanks for reading my blogs man. LOVE YOU!!!!!

Other dates include:

Bethel Park Public Library December 27th @ 7 PM

New York City TBA

Bethpage Public Library Long Island TBA

Brown University TBA

New York University TBA

Cokehead Talent Management

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Walking With Faith

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Much like Billy Hipkins I will walk with faith.

Love

April

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

877-Buy-Book

www.buybooksontheweb.com

 

Come to my signing tomorrow

Hoboken

Symposia Books

510 Washington St

7pm xoxoxo

Come Eat Some Cookies and Buy My Book This Thusday

Come eat some cookies and buy my book this Thursday

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

Symposia Bookstore

Hoboken

510 Washington St.

Come eat some cookies and ask some questions

There will be puppets

7PM see you there xoxox <3

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

 

Princess Dropped Down to Earth

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

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

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

AWWWWWW!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

MCAWESOME!

So awesome I chirped on the phone to my Mama.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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