Saturday, March 31, 2012

April's Impressive List of Loser Men

I have dated some doozies. But here are some men who deserve spots in the top ten. I love them all.

10. Hipster Boy-A failed actor, a wannabe writer and a musician who made music no one understood. I asked him if he had ever been with a man. He said no, but he had given a professor of his a blow job once and it was "surreal and enlightening."

9. Sell Me Bob- A vacuum cleaner salesman and a Republican, he told me he had slept with over 100 women and asked me a set of questions about being trapped on a desert island. Were these 100 women imaginary.

8. Romeo Rob- A would be rockstar and guitar hero, he told me that if I slept with him I could say we did the McNasty one day when he was famous. He currently works for Verizon and messaged me for a date when he saw me on TV.

7. Millionaire Mack- He had millions of dollars he confessed to making after he admitted he got it swindling his brother. He also said I would never make it as a ventriloquist. Then he was the first to message me when I was on TV, LOSER!

6. Lawyer/Liar- He claimed he played with the Violent Femmes, had mafia ties, and even claimed he almost went to the Olympics for boxing. Well he wore boxer shorts. Does that count.

5. Darryl- Yes, he is an ex con. After 11.5 years in prison he got out of his cage and found his way to me. Unfortunately he just can't keep out of trouble with the law. Occasionally he calls me in between cocaine and heroin binges leaving the following message, "Hey Toots, when are we gonna get that hotel room where we can do the nasty?" I know. What a gentlemen.

4. Ross- An automechanic who was Guido to the T, he wore designer clothing but never paid a dime of child support. He denied having kids, then he had them, then he paid support he claimed, and then it turned out he was a DEAD BEAT WOMAN RUINER. But he made me feel like a princess during our brief courtship and didn't force sex upon me. I just thought it was because he was a gentlemen, meanwhile he probably just didn't want to create more children. 

3. Holden Caulfied- He is twenty seven, has been married twice, and is 65k in the hole in child support. He has a drug problem, alcohol problem, three warrants for his arrest, and a loan shark that wants to break his legs. Currently working as a bi-sexual rent boy, he claims he still loves me. I do believe him, even if he says it when he's drunk.

2. The Prison Escapee-He managed to escape from a minimum security work program by getting a job in the weight room where he could just walk out. Don't worry, they captured him. Still, nothing says love like a heroin addict showing up to your door to ask for money. And even though he robbed houses, he never touched mine. I love you Keith.

1. Sean the Psychotic Ex Fiance- Lets see, when we were together he made me support him and was sleeping with a stripper he once dated who gave him a grand every week. Not to mention tried to kill himself in front of me twice! He even offered to kill his mother to get the insurance money to be with me. One separate mailing address later I can still say that I had the once in a lifetime experience of true love.

Surrounded by my hottie bodyguards in case my exes return. I think John Hinckley Jr. shall be writing me a love letter shortly.

Dwelling in Possibility

This past week I have found myself going back to my roots. I am back to reading Emily Dickinson, a poet I enjoyed in my teen and college years. I even almost was a Mount Holyoke woman, the place that spawned this great literary voice and US Postage Stamp Poster Gal. Okay, she didn't view herself as a great beauty but oh well. She was a shut in. Can't blame her after her minister husband up and left without telling her.

Lately I have felt like being a shut in. The world often just seems too much. It seems like I bang my head against people I know who are wrong but in my heart I know I am right. I fight tooth and nail against hate, unfairness. I am a Libra. Am I supposed to be balanaced? Yes, but I also fight for fairness and justice.

Yesterday I found myself fighting on a feminist message board on the essence of what femininity was. One aged lesbian feminist kept calling lesbian transwomen he which I thought was downright hateful. She claimed that they were men appropriating the feminine identity. I said gender was no concrete but rather fluid. It was an online bloodbath. I called her a bitch. I think they blocked me from the group. I just couldn't deal with the hate. When I stick up for women it's not just those who are biologically female but those who identify under that pronoun, that umbrella, as well.

I find myself the poster girl, a sort of Esther Greenwood anti-hero, in a campaign called Panic Girl. We had the photo shoot this week which was fun. I want to serve as an example to young women. I want to tell them use your voice, don't fear the hederosexual male agenda that wants to see you swinging from a pole. Then again, girls swinging from a pole are making more than me. So who am I to talk? Still Panic Girl is a role model for the broken toys, the damaged women. I am that role model. So ladies, fight back against the man who oppresses you. Fight back against the society that has a supermodel on one billboard and a big mac on the next. Fight back against the world that preaches that bulimics are the perfect citizens.......

On the other hand did I mention I am trying to date again?

Yes it has been a disaster. It ended badly with me and Kindred Spirit last week. I gave him a half assed apology which he took in stride. But I am never hearing from him again. What I did was so crazy it should have won an award. He is telling everyone how crazy I am. I can feel it. Nevermind, I wasn't worth that much to him and it's okay. Still, old behavior was creeping up. I was cruel because I could be. I figured, I might as well get it over with. I might as well reject him before he throws me away. I don't know if he was going to throw me away but still. He was like the guys back in the day who used to ask me out and then say, "Just kidding." I felt like the same old punchline. I want the poor guy to pay and he has done nothing but be nice to me. Nevermind, men don't have feelings. And besides, I know I didn't bruise him that much. He gets around. There are ten more bitches in the wings waiting to take my place. (Bitch being the thought in the male mind when it comes to cheap encounters of the third kind).

Still, I feel awful for being so cruel for the sake of being mean spirited. If I see him again I will run in the opposite direction. End of story.

On the other hand, I heard from someone from my past this week. I crushed mad on this guy in high school. He was older and all the girls wanted him. He liked them easy and sleazy, just like most guys. One girl who was especially mean to be was the apple of his eye. I remember going out of my way with my thunder thighs and my braces in order to get his attention. I was bold despite my acne. Anyway, he told my brother, "Man, I wouldn't touch your sister with a ten foot pole. She looks so much like you it's disgusting." Knife to heart, bleeding on the ground, broken woman, hurt, pain, despair, REJECTION. Yes, that word and I were best friends in those days when it came to men. They stil are on some occasions. I cried when that happened. But these days I don't cry. No man is worth my tears or energy I tell myself.

Well the other day he wrote me to tell me he enjoys my videos. Wowsa. It was like the butterflies were right back in my stomach. I was thirteen again, sheepishly saying hi. I want to say hi again, but then I still remember his words to my brother, "Man, she looks so much like you it's disgusting."

Of course the cherry on top of the cake was saying goodbye to Holden Caulfield. Yes we all know the story. He is on the run. He is in trouble. The whole thing only has the capacity to end in a high speed chase. Yet you canot help who you love. And it's different when you are friends before you are lovers. It means there is a bond which makes things special. It's not a lie and some more cheap lines like it is most of the time when it comes to guys. He was proud of me for my career, he was proud I was writing, he was proud of me for being smart. And when he said he loved me I know he meant it. He wasn't a reader but I got Holden into books. I know had he stayed I would have been doomed to become LM Montgomery, a brilliant writer with a simpleton for a husband who couldn't understand her brilliance or drive. But Holden loved me anyway.

I know he is not bad but sick. People tell me to get over it, buy a new heart. It is so easy to say and not so easy to do. Still, the fact people use mental illness and active addictions as punchlines makes me sick. Holden was beautiful, more beautiful than I usually ever get. For as much as I want him to walk through my door and to hold me, I also know what else he brings with him. Then suddenly he doesn't look so pretty. Rather, he looks repulsive. But I tell myself these things are not Holden but rather his sickness.

Still I run. I ran when he said he loved me. I would have run even if he were perfect. People tell me that my choice in men is a disaster. Okay it is.

But when you have been engaged to someone who hates everything you do and wants to control you, when you get someone who loves you for who you are you will always remember that. Then again, only a broken toy could understand those feelings.

I am not good at talking about my feelings. Whenever I have to express them I just want to write a blog or make a video. I actually enjoy those two things more than standup as of late. Standup is male dominated, and oft I feel I pay because I don't play the game the way the boys club wants me to. I don't whine like many a woman comic about her period. I can't. On the other hand, I feel there is only so much I could do there.

On the flipside, I love the videos because I have more freedom to be creative. I can do songs, do puppets, rant. No one tells me how. Standup it's a construct, a box. It has to be a certain way or the doors slam and you are not welcome. I have not been as passionate about it for sometime. Rather, I do it when booked but don't chase after it like I did when I was a kid. There is no money in it and little chance to be discovered. With my videos I reach people on a larger scale.

The weird thing is, a year ago when I was getting burned out and I was on network tv a bunch no one was knocking on my door. I felt bitter, I felt jaded. But I also wrote a book, became a talking head, got fans from around the world, and did I mention am now doing music? It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn't let the construct limit me or the structure confine and label me. Rather, I moved freely in a forum with no rules where I could be as experimental as I wanted to be and still am.

As for my videos, some are fun. Then others are serious. Some tickle, others offend. It's not because I am crass or crude but rather honest, brutally honest and shoot from the hip. This is a trait seldom instilled in women. My mother calls me Road Warrior, telling me there are kinder, gentler ways to get what I want. But I am me, a voice that will not be silenced or squelched.

Those who have tried to silence me have always met with opposition. They don't forget me because I fight. I don't just fight you, but I fight you through my art. I fight you through jokes, poems, essays, puppets, and videos. I do not take my hits lying on the mattress like a scared school girl trying to seduce. Rather, I take my hits standing like a man in a bar room brawl.

If only I could tell the guys I liked how I felt through an essay, a poem, a blog, a joke, a puppet, a video.......

But they would shoot me down and be back to some easy, sleazy girl with no brain who could just nod and say whatever. They would think the poem was a waste of paper. They wouldn't think the joke was funny. They would tell me how I sucked as a ventriloquist. They would deplore the video. It would all be an epic fail. And then I would write an essay about how they screwed me over. I would write a joke about what a dick they were. I would make a puppet lampooning their masculine, overinflated ego. And then I would make a video screaming about how men suck.

Emily Dickinson, you feel me woman. You know what I mean.


Another Photo Essay


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

Friday, March 30, 2012

Not A Pretty Girl (Ani DiFranco)

Lately I have been steamed up about women's issues. When I was in college I wasn't apathetic per se, but rather I could have taken them or left them but still cared. There was a women's collective, where they seemed to want to eat brownies and whine which scared me. Conversely, there were the Women's Studies Classes that I enjoyed. My teachers were inspirational women who were proud of my courage not just to express my voice as an artist but also as a woman. On the flip side, I was awfully giggly about boys and all I wanted was a man and never could find one. Yet at the same time, my mom was a Title IX Crusader and did a sit in with her teammates in college so that she and the rest of the women swimmers could have letter jackets like the guys. But at the same time, I did and still do giggle about the guys I date with my mom.

However, a few years ago after the end to a disasterous and abusive engagement my opinion changed. I had been so eager to get a boyfriend that I snagged the first guy who would talk to me. My ex cheated on me, occasionally hit me, was verbally abusive and made me choose between him and the puppets. When we broke up, I put everything that had happened to me in the act. I talked about how he threatened to kidnap me, how he had justified his post-breakup whoring while I was not allowed to see other men, and not to mention how he had attempted suicide to get my attention. I got two reactions from male comedians:
1. Wow, that is funny shit Brucker! I had a chick that was just as crazy.
2. Why are you so bitter? Maybe if you weren't so bitter he wouldn't have treated you the way he did.

Needless to say, those bozos are the same ones who use domestic violence as a regular punchline, no pun intended. So I never took it too personally. I know it scared off a booker or two. But then again, it was worth it in some way. Anytime you have to censor who you are for anyone it not only takes the life out of you, but the life out of your art.

This past year, with the advent of my TLC appearance I have been talking more about everything that I have been through. I got letters from lots of young women telling me how the men they were with made them choose between them or a career or passion. It was as if it was 1950s to some of these guys and these women should have been chained at the stove making them vittles and popping out babies. Other women wrote to me telling me about how they escaped an abusive relationship with an utter whacko and how they were glad to see someone like myself visable. Around this time, I was thinking of disguarding the routine about the ex. Then I changed my mind. There are young people who need to hear me.

Then when I was a talking head on YouNow I spoke about it more, making dating violence one of my many platforms. I spoke about it not just as a women's issue but as an everyone issue. I said that when the relationship reached a boiling point it was everyone's responsibility to end it. The kids liked hearing me and talking to me. I encouraged young people, especially young women to respect themselves and their bodies. Not to treat themselves as sex objects trained to swing off a pole, but rather as people who were smart and informed. I know that sounds so bizarre and weird but so many young women are eager to shed the clothes, jump into bed, and please a boy throwing away everything for him. And by the way he's never worth it. I told them to have pride in themselves, their opinions, women's issues and politics.

On young Scotswoman even called me an ardent example of feminism.

A lot of the young girls liked having me around. I was sort of a watch dog when some young male trolls encouraged them to shed their clothing, or used sexist language. Many of these young women also wrote to me pouring their hearts about love problems, both men and women. I told these young people not to get too caught up and to focus on their futures and careers. These young people began to look up to me, and it became clear why I was being given the platforms I was.

When I left YouNow, I found myself doing less activism. Actually, I sort of took a rest. I got tired of yelling. However, I made a music video for my single "Stay." In the video, the way I portray myself is as a Calypso, the cave witch who seduced and kept Odysseus as her captive in the Odyssey. Yes, she kept him prisoner, using her sexuality and making him essentially her slave. If that is not a feminist icon in classic literature I do not know what is.

Recently though, I have found myself back in the saddle as far as the activism is concerned. A few weeks back there was a post online where a "comedian" said something terrible about women letting it be known he thought it was okay to wantonly abuse them. I spent almost four hours arguing why such language was okay. He told me Sinatra referred to women as broads. But we also referred to black people as the n word way back when on the regular. Needless to say, a very angry, undereducated woman jumped on to defend her master and dispensed the c word and the b word too easily. I told them language like this led to attitudes of indifference towards womens issues, prompting law changes detrimental to women's rights. Not to mention encouraging attitudes of domestic violence. I also said if women allow themselves to be treated as second class citizens casually, the law will see it that way too. I was so angry I even made a youtube video.

A few days later I was called back into action when a "producer" called me for a meeting, crossing understood business boundaries. When I raised by voice letting this nobody know he had no business in my life, there were people who treated me as if I was the bad guy. If this were years ago, I would have taken his crap and cried. But instead I used my voice. He didn't like it but then again, by the way he treats women and speaks about women who sleep with other women as if they were put on this Earth to please him, his only gal pal is his right hand.

Since the making of my youtube video called "There's Something Wrong-Reasons I Hate Men Who Objetify Women" I have gotten letters from young women telling me how much they like the video, how much they agree with me, and how it helps to know that there is someone like myself to back them up. It helps to know that I am helping young women realize their full potential in this world riddled with men who see them as nothing more than a potential for a hot night. The tragic thing is, some young women only think that they are only good enough for that purpose and that purpose alone.

I guess me being independent is the reason I am alone but I don't mind it. I had a fling I wrote about and this past Saturday he called me giving me some excuse about where he was. It's not because he was anywhere. Probably his much sluttier Saturday option had fallen through. Rather it was because I wasn't by the phone waiting for his beckon call like a slave should be. Either way it's over. But the thing is, he was way too chauvanistic anyway. Our world's would have collided, and eventually I would have had no choice but to verbally castrate him.

In many ways I am an Amazon Feminist, someone who is forced to take on a male gender role because of a lack of men in my surroundings. I live alone therefore I do my own home repairs, kill my own mice, and even installed my own air conditioner. All and all, I am stronger for having done it.

A comedian friend of mine said a few weeks ago that there was no good feminist icon of this era. I want to be that feminist icon, filling that void and serving as a power of example to young women. When I think of other examples of powerful women I think of my mom of course, my sister and sister in law who are both a doc to be and a doctor, my aunts and cousins in pharmacy and denistry etc. So I am in good company.

What can I say, "I am not a pretty girl/I'm no damsel in distress/so put me down punk, I am not a maiden faire."


Thursday, March 29, 2012

Pictures of You (The Cure)

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Mae West
The men of the world have made me as bitter and angry as I am. Now to make a self-indulgent youtube video
It's Norma Jean to you
Move over Lana Turner, the Postman just struck again
Yes I am your Hershey Kiss, here to give you a kiss. Smooch, smooch!
Two girls against the world
My name is Cake Boss
My puppet children and their Mama, exhausted after a loooonnnnggggg day!
Broadway here I come!
Trying to get a suntan under the hot lights and heat in my apartment. 
Playboy style. Or am I a Play Boi.....xoxoxo
My mom calls me a road warrior. I call myself a cow girl. Or should we make that cow boi. It depends on how I feel on that day at that hour. 
Getting ready for a show. Making gaffaws and breaking hearts at the same time. 
Sometimes I just need to lay down and try to seduce the invisible man, cause he is the only man who never let Mama Foxxx down. 
Me in the park. It's one of my favorite photos of me

Ron Barba, May Wilson and Mick DiFlo after filming of King of the List. They stopped men from groping me and May. May Wilson was no happy about them chaperoning.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Finding Holden Caulfield

Lately I have felt a little heartbroken. Actually a lot. To make a long story short someone who I cared for called me not once but twice this week. When I met him we were two people who had a lot in common. We both were two broken toys who had somehow found each other in this vast world. He had been kicked out of places, married, had kids, and through all sorts of things. I had almost been married to a nightmare. That breakup almost killed me. Nothing says broken heart like getting a different mailing address so the man who was once your one and only can't find you.

Enter Holden Caulfield. He fits his name to a T. He was my confidant when I was dating Dimsdale, an aged icon. Okay Dimsdale is not the aged icon's real name and Holden is not my former lover's real name either. Both work and both apply though. Holden was there when my ex fiance made an amends to me before Thanksgiving. He saw how upset I was, he was there the night I melted down. Holden and I became especially close during the two day time span when my house was robbed. He never left my side. Things got complicated. Many of my male friends accused him of having other motives. I know he didn't. I know Holden would have never hurt me.

Unfortunately, he made some mistakes and was forced to leave NYC. He wanted to give me the world and told me he loved me. I believed him and still do. He says he misses his kids. Neither of which are in his life because he is an alcoholic, a drug addict, and has bi-polar disorder and is non-compliant with his medication. That is the reason he is several grand in the hole when it comes to child support and is in some other trouble I will not go into.

The last time we spoke he was very sick, far detached from reality. I don't know what is worse. Is it the fact some people believe his behavior is funny? No, he is destroying his life, makes his family worry, and misses his kids who by the way he is not allowed to see because of his active addiction. Is it the fact that he is so flippant about the fact he is destroying his life? Yes, there were photos of him on his facebook page, him drinking in each and every one. It wouldn't be so bad if he weren't an alcoholic. Maybe it's the fact I have seen him sober and know how sad he is about all of this. Perhaps it is because I got to know him, and know that under all that was a good person with a good heart who would never hurt anyone.

There are people around me who call him names like fuck up. Maybe he is. But on the other hand, they don't understand how very sick he is. Part of me wants to go help him, save him. Then I remember our phone call where he informed me, "I am having so much fun that not even a whole fellowship of people could save me."

When people use words like fuck up that makes me wince. Truth be told, I have buried friends because of drugs. There was Roger who died as a result of long term drug use, a kindred spirit who I quote all too frequently. There was Joe, who would smack me in the head when I was going wrong but ultimately couldn't save himself, who got me writing again. Lest we not forget John and Julissa who were murdered. Of course then there was Jorge, who's laugh I still hear sometimes. Those funerals are hard. That is why a week ago I made the decision to block Holden on facebook. It's not because I don't care. It's because I too care. Seeing someone who you love and care about destroy and kill themselves is like having your heart ripped out and kicked across the floor.

I also know it's not because he won't get it. It's because he can't get it. It's not that he doesn't love or want to take care of his kids, it's that he can't love or take care of himself. I know he really loves me and would give me the world if he could. I know what he said was real. I know he wasn't like a lot of those other guys who just wanted to use whatever lines they could in order to use me for their satisfaction. I had not experienced that in forever. While in part it made me want to run, the other part of me was blown away by something so pure and real.

Then again, wasn't Salinger's character pure, real, and innocent. Didn't Holden Caulfied want to stand by the cliffs to catch the children before they fell, losing their innocence and descending into the dark abyss of the adult world? Didnt he want to go out West and live as a deaf mute? So far my man is fitting the T.

That is why it is so hard not to pick up the phone when he calls. That is why it is hard to just turn a blind eye. Because I know his heart. Some of it was the fact that he had pictures of himself with random women, drinking and kissing them. Part of me felt jealous. On the other hand, even when he was with one woman who he was using for a place to stay, he still used her computer to message me on several occasions when she wasn't looking. Even though there are many a woman in those photos, he still put me on speaker phone calling me one of his "famous friends" from NYC and talking about all the TV shows I had been on. I suppose they are Sally Hayes.

He on the other hand, is my Holden Caulfield. I know he is true. Unfortunately, mental illness and addiction are ugly. People call it a "need for an attitude adjustment" or a "character flaw." I know it isn't. I know he is lonely, lost, unhappy, and above all things sick. I know that if he could fix himself he would.

Even though she dated Stratlatter, and even though she was out with the Joe Yales she probably smiled when his name crossed her lips. She probably knew that if the world were simple she could be with the man who loved her. But the world isn't that simple. I know he will drag me down before I ever fix him. I know that unless he decides to get help and change he is headed nowhere good. I suppose I just have to ask God to watch him, guide him, and protect him from other people but most of all himself.

Now I know how Jane Gallagher felt.

Love April

Tuesday, March 27, 2012


Last night I went to a party where I dressed in drag. Yes, I was a man. My gay friends were dressed as women of course. It was playful banter for the most part. One of my gay friends, who is six four in stocking feet, took the name Rita Rigatoni. We had an exchange that was as follows:
Me: Get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich. And while you are at it, make me a baby bitch.
Rita: Another one?
Me: Yea, and go swing off a pole and make me some money while you are at it. That way I can sit at home shirtless, play my Nintendo, and drink beer in our trailer.
Rita: And don't forget you can also fuck my mother who is also my sister.

The crazy thing about dressing andro/in drag is that it does make you feel different. While I am not a man in lipstick and a dress with stilettos, something that could get your teeth knocked out in some areas of Queens or Brooklyn, I did feel different. I didnt feel the stares most people who are M to F (male to female) feel but rather just different. Some straight guys did look at me, hair under my hat, no makeup, and butch clothes with an attitude of contempt. I could feel them rolling their eyes. One guy even said to his friends, "Is she a dyke?"

A few hours before, a regular on my facebook page, read my post about dressing in drag. He usually jokingly responds to my posts where I rant about men by telling me to get in the kitchen to make him a sandwich. He said, "I knew it, lesbian." While it was in just the remark disgusted me. I mean, what does it matter?

It is insane how closed minded straight men can be when it comes to gay culture, especially gay women. A lot of my straight male friends assume lesbians are two hot chicks just doing it. Okay, that's not the end of the world. They are guys, let them dream. Don't tell them about the flannels, the u-haul, the Ani DiFranco and Emily Dickinson.

What I am more or less talking about is the other attitude. The one that any woman who is a lesbian must need a good man in his life. Twenty four hours before I dragged I was having my coffee and bagel at the local deli. We are a friendly bunch and the topic of Tim Tebow came up. I mentioned I had met Timmy and his clan once upon a time and they left a good shine. I said they never mentioned anything anti-gay, and I said this because a lot of people are fired up about his coming to NYC because of his affiliation with Focus on Family. This construction worker replies, "Well I am pro-life as well as anti-gay. Being gay isn't natural to me." I didn't feel like fighting. The week prior I had to set an idiot straight who felt the need to inform me most butches just wanted a "good dick." I just would let this slide. This man, who kept going with his unsolicited hate said, "Well, I think it's disgusting when guys do it. Women who go that way are lost and it's because some guy hurt them."

I just want to dial reality and let him know to build a bridge and get over his own male ego. On the other hand, the encounter made me want to purchase a hard hat and tool belt of my own as a part of my costume.

When I was dressed as a boi, which is a lesbian slang term meaning either butch who doesn't want to commit (playa) or a young transman, I almost felt a sense of confidence. While I felt naked in the world, without my makeup or pretty dresses, I was not lost. If anything I was confident. When people looked at me they didn't see someone who had done some modelling. When people looked at me, they didn't automatically assume I was dumb because I was blonde. When guys looked at me, they didn't try to hit on me or say something rude. If anything, they moved out of my way because they were scared I would come with the tool belt or hard hat I so secretly coveted as a part of my get up.

My opinion of myself changed. I didn't feel dumb. I felt like someone who used her brain to get around. I felt like I sort of knew my way around a box of power tools. When I walked down the street I walked with a sort of swagger of a cowboy, or rather cowboi.

Then I realized there are a lot of things that are very masculine about me. Most of my friends, gay and straight, are male, because we tend to think alike. We all see the bigger picture and know the secret to life is a positive attitude. Women fixate on smaller details and are petty, I was never that way. I also have shot a gun and would do it again if there were a firing range around. I like to climb mountains. I love boxing, football, and other contact sports. Not to mention I have used the line, "It's not you, it's me......" And I have been told I freeze up and don't know how to get in touch with my feelings. A crying woman scares me. More than anything, I do comedy which is notoriously male dominated. Oh, and then there is ventriloquism. There aren't many chicks there either. Did I mention my sister is going to be a doctor and science always has a shortage of women?

I had never given a thought to these things until recently. Maybe it's my mom who was captain of her college swim team and did sit ins in the seventies so she and her teammates could have letter jackets like the guys. Or perhaps it was my Great Grandma Young who ran and played tennis when women didn't do these things. Who knows?

While part of me thinks it's easy to be a guy, and was always envious of the freedoms my brother was awarded going up, I know it's not true. Guys feel this need to be macho because John Wayne tells them they have to be in those Westerns. You never see John Wayne cry. Guys also feel the need to get the babe, and then always are pressured to make the first move. And then when the babe shuts them down it sucks. Plus girls play games. And girls are cruel for the sake of being cruel. Does any gender have a free lunch? No.

But football, cars, Shark Week........easy to please. Give me a poker night over a Women's Coffee Club anyday.

As I ready myself for my latest photo shoot, beautifying to the hederosexual norm of what a woman should be, I feel the experience has changed me. It has made me realize gender is not concrete, but rather fluid. I read this in college and my father pointed out it also dictated which restroom one could use. This is true. At the same time, gender stereotypes box people in. I got to shatter the mold which felt good.

I want to dress in drag again. Not just to prove a point. Not just to feel smart instead of pretty or sexy. But rather for fun. I wouldn't mind even doing a drag kind show.

I know. I am such a pretty boi

Monday, March 26, 2012

It's My Life (Talk Talk)

This past weekend has been friends, friends, friends. Friday it was Krissy time, Saturday it was Genevieve time and Sunday it was Fernando time. So when Monday came it was work time. I was to deliver a singing chicken telegram in Branchville, CT. Anyway Lynn was originally supposed to do it, another lady I work with who always sings big band up the street from me and who is totally awesome, couldn't do it because of a scheduling conflict. You see, the gig was originally on Sunday but it had to be moved.

Anyway, I got on the train and I knew I had to be there by noon, because the woman was set to leave at 12. So I got on the train and was chugging along like everything was fabulous, and then I even got on the connector train. It was going famously and then there was a natural disaster. A tree fell in the middle of the track and the train was stalled. A crew of four men with a chainsaw went to the track and began to cut the tree up so that our train could move. In all my years of riding the Metro North nothing like this has ever happened. The only thing I kept thinking was, "Shit! I am going to be late."

So I called the school I was to deliver to and informed them of the disaster. The secretary informed me she would try to detain her as long as possible. I was like cool. But I was hoping they would move a little faster with that chainsaw. I just didnt want the delivery to be a disaster. So then I called my boss and informed him it was a natural disaster and that I might be late. He told me to call the client. The client didnt pick up so I texted the client. Jon left the client a message. Jon just told me to sit tight, do my best, and to see what happens.

The conductor makes an announcement. He says then they are doing the trunk of the tree. WHAT!  They had been working for almost twenty minutes. How freaking big could this tree be!

Well anyway, ten minutes later we were on our way. The client and I finally talked. He said the school was up the hill. WHAT! Did they have streets in this town? Finally I get off the train and asked a girl with a nose ring in the coffee shop where the school was. She gave me excellent directions and off I went.

Over the river and through the woods, I crossed the bridge. I walked up the hill and to the front doors. There were screaming children, a sight that makes me smile and makes me worry about my choice in men. Anyway, I go to the front door of the school and it's locked. I am like, "Oh shit!" Then I remember it's the law. While I am a weird lady in a chicken costume. They don't know if I am a weird lady in a chicken costume who is in a registry somewhere. While I am not, it is better to be safe than sorry.

I call the contact. She lets me in and I change. The lady I am singing to walks in the office and she is amazing. The whole experience is amazing. The people who work at this office are amazing. THEY LOVE IT! Somehow, despite the fact that I smell like train stink, I pull it off.

Then that is not the end of the tale but only the beginning. Enter the principal. He is cute, sort of shy, and very sweet. He loves the fact I am a chicken and takes many photos of me. We get to chit chattin about life and it turns out that he has backpacked across the US. He likes Colorado. He also stayed in Times Square. He is from the Australian Outback. We are chit chatting, losing track of time. Of course he has lots of things to do but I feel a connect. I check his finger, no wedding ring. But he has two kids. Maybe he left the ring at home, or maybe not.


Anyway, we are chatting and I don't want to stay too long because these people have work to do. On the other hand, I do want to talk to him some more. Yes, Prinicpal Pal. So I leave him my info cause he asks for it and then I am off.

As I am down the hill I see the school on my caller ID. The principal called to see if I needed a ride! AWESOME! Hmmmm........Well I was already at the train. He mentioned me mailed the photo we took of me at his desk. I was like cool, talk to you later. Hot for teacher. Scratch that, hot for prinicpal. Lucky I didnt go to that school cause I would always be in trouble.

Anyway, I call my boss to let him know the delivery was a success and we have a laugh about the events of the day. Did I mention my boss is the man? My boss teased me about the way I say "natural disaster." He also mentioned he will be in NYC in April. My month. Can you say breakfast/brunch date? And he said that I looked so beautiful the last time he saw me. I would have gotten carried away except my boss is gay.

But this is just one of my many adventures. Last week I was part of a fundraiser for the Tom Findland Foundation (a gay organization to preserve erotic art and educate about HIV/AIDS), then there was the big letter I wrote asking for sponsorship, and in between that I made an angry youtube video or two. By the way, my mom says no more angry youtube videos :(. Apparently she doesnt like those.

Either way it is potluck time tonight. It is cross dress theme. I will be the most handsome boi there. Oh I so hope I see/hear from that Principal again.
Love, April

At the principal's office. My punishment for too much clucking.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Just Blogging

Okay, things have been fun as of Friday. I was sitting at home in my PJs debating what to do with my day and waiting for the sing-o-gram line to ring a ding ding when Krissy Donato calls and is in town for a job interview. She lives in NJ and is one of my comedian gal pals. Anyway, we got brunch at the Galaxy and talked smack on boys and the industry. Krissy is doing a cool webshow and asked me to be a part of it. YIPEE!!!!! Anyway, it was fun just to brunch with a gal pal. The thing is, I am friends with gay men. And while they invented brunch every once in a while it is fun to gossip with someone who is of the same gender. Anyway, we did that and we are working together.

Did I mention I am so excited!!!!!!!

Anyway, Saturday I had to buy a jump rope for a sing--o-gram this week. But before that I found myself brunching with Genevieve Joy. Yesterday was her birthday party and we just talked smack about guys we dated. She told me all about Boat Man, a guy who she is in love with that lives on a boat. Boat Man, being someone despite his constant motion has little direction, forgot her birthday. I urged her to find a man with an address.

Then again, I had boy woes of my own. This week I had to block Holden Caulfield online. A few months ago he got a piece of my heart and I have never gotten it back. He called me this past week, apparently he and his hos had seen me on TV. I thought we could be friends again, start from a more honest place. That's when he called me to tell me he still loved me. Holden is not doing well. He is drinking all the time and admits to being a gigolo of sorts. The convo on a whole upset me. While part of me does want him back in my life, I know he is very sick. Part of me just wants to get on a plane and rescue him. The other part of me knows to let him go. A lot of people don't know how sick he is, that he is bi-polar and refuses to take his psych meds, self-medicating through drugs and alcohol. But the day after the convo picture after picture of him kissing skanky drunken chick goes up. I cry, I get jealous, I even post about seeing Kindred Spirit so he will see it.

And then I figure fuck this sick drug addict shit. He wants me to message him and rescue him. That's when I blocked Holden. I know deep down, aside from "using my cock to get around" as he says, I know he has a good heart. I know because I have seen it. I know he could have been a good boyfriend if he had taken care of himself, because I remember what a good friend he was. But it's a different sort of heart break. One where people call him loser, dead beat, drunk, when really the words are addict and sick. Anyway, but I had to let him go which was like getting my heart ripped out. To make matters worse he called Saturday. But no more about him. It's just making me sad.

Oh and I had not heard from Kindred Spirit. While I had liked him, he was starting to get too close, know too much. Plus in a way he had been a rebound from Holden Caulfield, the one who really stole a piece of my heart. The one who called me all the time with the greeting, "Hey Beautiful." The one who had gotten to me and despite my resistance melted a heart that is a perpetual ice box.

Genevieve and I both talked Kindred Spirit and we agreed it was best to just let it fade out. The whole thing was sort of happening out of the blue, and it worked out perfectly because it got me to stop crying over Holden. Meanwhile, we just have to get her over Boat Man.

So Genevieve and I talked boys, her party, and other things. I went to get my jump rope. She went to get a mani/pedi for her party. It was going to be a good night I figured.

Anyho, I went to purchase a jump rope and walked past a bunch of dogwood trees. It reminded me of going to Kew Gardens to visit my ex the lawyer. Yes, I dated a lawyer and it ended badly. Then again, all my relationships from my engagement on down end badly. But with the lawyer, for as much as he did tend to lie, I also treated him badly. I called him names and put him down when he was even remotely nice to me. But that spring felt so hopeful I remember. That whole relationship felt so memorable. It was picnics in the park, fancy dinners, a guy who hadn't done an extended bid in lock up. As I walked I could feel him saying, "My current girlfriend, nice girl. April on the other hand, crazy bitch."

Did I mention I am not easy to be with? As the rain clouds moved in I felt the mood dampen.

I ducked into Shakespeare and Co and delved into Patti LuPone's autobio. I never knew much about her but I like the woman. She is a lot like me: cute, fun and always in trouble. There is something about us that bonds us. It gave me hope that I would reach my goals.

Well I get to Genevieve's party and they double booked the room with some horrid acoustic show. The bar is packed with hipster type guys. Poor Genevieve is near tears. Because of the stupidity of the booker it looks as if my friends party is ruined. To top it off, the bouncer puts his hands on me to get me to move which does not make me happy. I think this was his excuse as a black man to touch an unsuspecting white woman. While it sounds racist and probably is to some extent I have had it happen to me before. With my friend melting down on the sidewalk I was in no mood. So I turned around and started yelling at the bully who denied his behavior. More than anything in the world it is an excuse to push a woman around and I don't stand for that. If I wanted a guy to hit me I would call my ex fiance. With my career taking off I am sure he would be happy return.

Anyway, after having it out with this asshole the manager of the place strikes a deal. They have a sister bar they send us to. We get there and there I am in my Wide Open Cap, the one I earned as a result of hosting for Ion TV. Yes, that was the day Jenny Kropp, gold medalist for the women's beach volleyball team, took a fan photo with May Wilson and myself. I don't know which was more flattering, to be recognized from being on TV or to have someone so amazing as a fan. Needless to say, Jenny is amazing and I was extremely humbled. And I always think of that experience when I wear that cap.

Well anyway, bouncer number 2 is no better. He is thirty five and this is it for him. I must have "Easy Woman Target" tattooed on my forehead. He starts bullying me and another guy in the party about our hats. Genevieve points out that management for the other bar screwed up so therefore we should be able to wear our hats. I say that either way I am spending money in the place so what does it matter if I wear a hat or not. I fight with a minute or two with the bouncer before I realize I am not going to win. I almost want to put the hat on in a protest of Civil Disobedience. But I realize it's Genevieve's party, not April's night, and I dont want to selfishly ruin this for my friend. So I take my hat off.

We get inside. They give us free booze as promised. Immediately the guests start to arrive. Suddenly the whole night is turning around for Genevieve which makes me happy. I am talking to her friends, having a good time, and just getting to know these people. Plus some other comedians arrive. One of Genevieve's friend's D remembers I have a puppet and has me get out my puppet. So Sunny comes out and makes his debut and we sort of start performing for people. Genevieve's Mom's boyfriend takes a liking to Sunny. He is taking Sunny and myself around, introducing us to people. Now the night is much different. It is rocking.I even end up performing for Sam Jones, award winning solo performer and director of Genevieve's show, and her friends. The night is becoming McAwesome.

I chit chat with one of Gen's friends and it is revealed we both know my old, crazy roommate from college. Gen's friend had done study abroad in Paris with this insane lass who told everyone she went to an eating disorder hospital more as a vacation and less because she actually needed treatment. We exchanged stories on this special one of God's creatures and sort of bonded over the fact that we knew the same cat shit crazy woman. I figured from here the night could only go up.

And it did. It was MCAWESOME!

Then as the night wears on the dancing begins. I end up dancing with Alan who tells me he knows Genevieve since she has been little and that he has a lot of money. A lot of money, that is like music to my ears. Holden Caulfield, because he was not taking his meds, claimed he made a lot of money when really he couldn't pay his phone bill. Alan isn't sexy but the "cha-ching" of the cash machine and his name on my mac card is. I pry him for info on his finances but then he changes his tune asking why it matters. I just want to tell him it's not cause he has looks. Finally the truth comes out. Alan does not have any money and has just crashed Genevieve's party. Then when I am talking to Gen's Mom he comes over and I tell him to talk to the hand.

After that I end up dancing with Nico from a group of Bensonhurst boys who are wearing gold chains, look good, but for the most part are pretty stupid. Nico tells me I am beautiful and gives me a kiss. He is sooooo cutteeeee and so young, only twenty one. But it's not the end of the world. At least he isn't on the run from the law, and besides we are just dancing. Nico then runs to the bathroom and I end up dancing with some dude who is just wanting to touch me in the no no regions. I move away from him and chit chat with Gen about the party. She's happy which makes me happy.

Then I dance with Dan Naturman for a spell. In between that I am getting the eye from some good looking number who is there with his girlfriend. The good looking number is eyeing me up while his girlfriend looks like she wants to throw a martini in my face. Out of respect for the her, I didnt ask him to dance. Plus I have a feeling the stud muffin has a wandering eye.

I needed another break and saw Kindred Spirit had texted me. He apologized saying that he had been busy and travelling and didnt have a moment to himself. I figured this was lying man speak for he had gotten a better offer that had fallen through. So I texted him back and told him our meetup was just fun, to stop stressing and to stop flattering himself because it's not like I was by the phone waiting. And I really wasn't. I didnt care. I knew this was also the male ego bruised that I was not chasing after his masculine sexiness willing to be his love slave and therefore he had to make an excuse for the fact I, April Brucker, liberated woman, have a life. So he gave some excuse about how he likes talking to me blah blah blah. I give him the whatever and sarcastically he says nice talking to you too. I am like WHATEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's when I go talk to the nicer, cuter bouncer and start flirting with him. Gosh he is so hot and his name is Marco the Hottie. Okay, that is just what I am calling him. Anyway, we are just macking it and giggling. I tell him about the face off I had earlier that night with the bouncer downstairs and he tells me that the no hat rule is a rule and that he and the bouncer downstairs are friends and the bouncer downstairs is a good dude. I was like okay. I mack on him some more before he has to step away and actually do his job.

I go and dance some more with this group of black girls. I am having a great time at this party? Did I mention that? Anyway, it is getting late and as someone who is not a drinker it is best I turn into a pumpkin at a certain point.

So I walk home in the rain where everyone and their mother wants a cab. I finally get one. During my walk home I find myself thinking about life and if I will get where I want to go. Oh I hope so. I also feel guilty. What if there was the margin of error that Kindred Spirit was being half honest? Not that I cared. I just told him off. But then I realized I told him off because I was afraid of getting hurt and just wanted the sadistic satisfaction of rejecting him first.Then I felt guilty. But then I was like, "Oh well. He's another one who's going to be bad mouthing me."

But at this point I am used to men, traitorous beings, bad mouthing me after it is all said and done. Men are sore losers when they don't get their way, especially with women.

Well this morning I felt bad, because I had gone on Kindred Spirit's fb page last night and saw he was telling the truth. I mean, straight man plus truth can be a rare combo but here was the exception. So I sent him a text telling him I could be a mega bitch and apologized. He accepted and told me he looked forward to talking/seeing me again.If it happens great. If not there are always the Nico's, Marco's and perhaps even Alan if he truly has money.

Anyway, talked to the rent this morning and then church. Now time to shower and meet Rena for coffee. Love, April

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Running in Circles

I have been so tired lately. I feel like all I do is work. Climbing a mountain to the top, I feel like there is no top. Who knows? Maybe there is. I just feel like I am a guest in this man's world sometimes. And then I am an alien creature in the feminine realm.

When it comes to being a girl I am not a girly girl who always expected daddy to do everything and makes a man suffer when he doesn't live up to the standards. I have never looked perfect. On the other hand I deplore granola and baggy sweaters. While I love angry chick lit, when it gets bad it is absolutely rotten. On the other hand I have never missed an episode of Snapped.

I operate more like a guy on so many levels. On the other hand, the small part of me wants the castle. But I know Prince Charming comes with a nagging mother or a parole officer. That fantasy that Disney crafted to ruin women was corrupted long ago.

I feel like as a woman who speaks her mind, honest, I am an outsider. They say be yourself but I am. As a result I am punished either by doors closing or silent scorn. They say be sweet. I just can't. I am not a doormat. I snap back and fight back all the time. I just have myself in this world. Men come and they go. They say nice things but they always have another bitch waiting in the wings. They all lie, it's a fact. The sooner women get used to it the better. I have been told I should shave my head and move to Northampton. I don't like a winter with too much snow and I am worried I would run out of tossle caps.

Sometimes, I just want to take my puppets and move my the river. I would be like the Unabomber, living off the land. I would just have my puppets. No friends, no one to remind me that I lived in a tent and was therefore technically homeless. We would perform by the river for change. We would live off soft pretzels and hot dogs. Ooops I do that already, nevermind.

A few nights ago I told off a real prick. He lured me somewhere with promises of talking business but really wanted to get into my pants. The dialogue went like this.

Assfuck: Give me a kiss.
Me: No.
Assfuck: Just a kiss on the lips.
Me: No, I never mix business with pleasure.
Assfuck: Last time I checked this was my venue and you aren't getting paid.
Me: Invade my personal space again and I will throw this soda on your face.
Assfuck: Do you know what the definition of a professional is?
Me: Enlighten me
Assfuck: Someone who shakes hands no matter what.
Me: I am not shaking your hand. I do not know where it has been.

In between insert several homophobic comments about my friends and several slights to me for my knowlege of gay culture. He crashes a convo I am having with a girl who needs schooled on gay cuture for a show. This was another memorable exchange.
Assfuck: I feel useless here. I think I am going to leave.
Me: Please do Archie Bunker.
Assfuck returns a second later
Assfuck: If I knew you were this gay I wouldn't have asked you here.
Me: I get gayer by the minute sir.
Assfuck: If it's one thing I know it's lesbians. And what every butch girl wants is a good dick.
Me: No, no they don't. That's why they are dating women. Perceptions like yours contibute to homophobia and hate.
Assfuck: I am not homophobic.
Me:Yes you are.
Assfuck: Well every butch woman wants a big cock like mine.
Me: They probably had your cock and that's why they turned gay. You scarred them.

Then as the evening goes on he finds out I have been on TV several times and wants to suck up some. Oh, and he finds out I have some friends who are well connected. At this time we are discussing business. Therefore I am not just expressing my distain for this dickhead but am a complete and utter shark.
Me: If we are going to pack this venue I need the following things, facebook page and posters. Word of mouth will not cut it. We don't just need music but other ideas.
Assfuck: Could you not speak to me so disrespectfully?
Me: Youhave disrespectfully touched me all night. You have acted disrespectfully. I am talking business like an adult. If you don't like it we don't have to include you.
Assfuck: I sell real estate and sell spaces to people for $4000 that should be $2000
Me: You are a liar too. Sorry, but I believe in giving a customer a fair product. Your ethics are unnerving. And people respond in kind when they have been lied or cheated in any way.

Finally the evening ends. I am tired. Perhaps we can still do a show at this wonderful venue. However, Assfuck ruins it.
Assfuck: April is the kind of girl I could sit and talk to for hours.
Me: No I am not.
Assfuck gets up and throws a silent scornful tantrum.
Assfuck: Well thank you for coming.
Me: I can't work with you. You cannot seperate business and pleasure.
Assfuck: Yes I can.
Me: No you can't. You gave me proof all night.

I got to leave.
Assfuck: Thank you for coming.
Me: No problem.
Assfuck: Would Statue of David like to perform? They made your song sound fabulous!
Me: No. They have better things to do.
Assfuck: You need someone like me to guide you.
Me: And you need to grow up.

What I am trying to say fans is that my spring fling is over. While the man was good on my nerves and made me smile, a smiling woman is a soft woman. And I am hard as nails. Plus being angry and pissed off at men is how I create my best art. I am mad at the world. Watch my youtube channel. Plus Kindred Spirit has probably moved on to a new ho anyway. That was more his speed. I on the other hand, am top speed fast pitch.

Look out bitches here I come.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012


Okay, as of Monday I think I have started to have a spring fling. To make a long story short St. Patrick's Day Weekend I had been sick. St. Pat drove the snakes out of Ireland, and maybe he had driven them into my stomach. They say that St. Pat was sober, but my great grandmother who's mother was from Cork was not. If anything she loved her whiskey and cigarettes and much as God himself. That's probably why I love hearing about her. Anyway, I was not part of the fun. St. Pat's Day has never ended well for me. Two years ago I got into a fight with a midget in a leprechaun costume. That's how you know your life sucks. Just saying.

Anyway, rewind a month prior to everything. I was doing a show where it was a night of April being April. Basically, it had been a rough day and I didnt want to do anything but found myself in the back of a comedy club. Part of me wanted to go home, get under my blankets, and watch Beverly Hills 90210 reruns on my youtube. But I was there and not at home. The show was overbooked and running late but nonetheless fun. I didnt care that I wasn't going on. I just wanted to chill and be still.

Well enter Kindred Spirit, he's higher on the food chain and he sort of bumped me which was the best news ever cause I really just didnt want to move. I ended up talking to him and he asked me when I was going up and I sarcastically said, "In a million years." Did I mention I was having an uber-rotten day and just didn't want to move? Needless to say, I went up and it was cool. For as much as I didnt want to do it for whatever reason I just did it. Actually it was a nice way to end the night and everyone told me they loved the fact that I was as risky as I was.


So then Kindred Spirit invited me to a diner. We chillaxed and shot the breeze. It was the nice end I needed to a day that had been so crazy brutal. Sometimes, April being April drives even April Brucker crazy. I felt bad for going to the diner with him. I even apologized because perhaps he had other plans he was blowing off. My ex-fiance always informed me that people hung out with me because they felt sorry for me, and most people didnt want to be my friend.

Kindred Spirit said, with a twinkle in his eye, "No need to apologize. I sought out the experience." I was like Wowsa! I also felt awkward for my lack of self-esteem courtesy of my abusive, psychotic, controlling ex-fiance. No need to go to the Dollar Store when there are discounted, damaged goods right here.

Continuing the be the picture of well grounded self-esteem, when the check came I asked, "How are we splitting this?" I mean, it was a fair question. Plus since the days of the ex-fiance I never expect a guy to pay for me.

"I got it. I invited you." Kindred Spirit informed me. He just had this twinkle in his eye that just made me melt. A big, fake, awkward smile crossed my face. I was suddenly nineteen years old and new to NYC all over again. It was like I didn't know anything about guys, just starting the whole dating thing. Gosh I was retarded. He asked if I was going to the subway. I wanted to tell Kindred Spirit my short bus was outside instead and that was taking me home. I mean, it was obvious by my lack of social skills I needed to be there.

Well I didnt say that which was probably better. Instead we walked to the train and he gave me a kiss goodnight. I thought I was going to melt right there. I didnt expect to see or hear from Kindred Spirit again. He messaged me a few times online but that was it. Like me, he is a child of the night and a creature of the wind. No one owns us so don't even dare. Plus I just don't chase after men. Never have, never will. Some girls follow them towards the end of the Earth and will even go off a cliff to oblivion. I, on the other hand, don't think anyone is worth that much time and energy.

Not to mention I am a busy woman. I have a lot to do and no time to babysit a man. It just worked out that way. So let's just say I just sort of forgot about him for a little bit. Meanwhile, other drama ensued because April can't keep her politics to herself let alone stop talking in third person. Oh and it's spring, my puppets need new clothes. I am about to publish a book, I am pitching a project, my song is on two radio stations, I might be working with a company I did some stuff for as far as spokesperson goes, and I am a poster girl for a new campaign. Kindred Spirit and his masculine agenda were the last thing on my mind.

Fast forward to this past weekend. I got sick, got into a political internet conflagration with some dumb bitch who wants to set women back a few amendments, and just was fed up with the world. Guess who messages me online Sunday night? Kindred Spirit. Turned out he thought he had a show that night but got the week wrong. We ended up chatting on facebook and then he calls me on the phone and we chit chat for an hour and a half into the night! At first I was like, okay, maybe we are talking way long but time just seemed to fly like it was nothing. Weird I know.

Then Monday comes. I get some distressing news about my Pop Pop who is ninety-three years old. He had  a health scare. I talked to my mom on the phone. Kindred Spirit called me but I was thus otherwise occupied with my mom. When I hung up I saw that he called and called him back.He told me he was going to be in the city and invited me to chill.I was like coolio.

We ended up getting coffee, chilled in the city, and chilled a little in Brooklyn. I must say he is a great kisser! Anyway, we had a fun night. It was one of those things were I realized how truly awkward I am around dudes. I just kept babbling about dumb shit and more dumb shit. I actually said nothing the whole night. I even spoke about Al Bundy as if he were a 20th Century thinker. Kindred Spirit told me to start quoting Neitzsche instead. I was like, "Okay, duh, duh, duh."

Oh and then at another point in the evening Kindred Spirit, seeing that I am totally awkward said, "I was leaning in to kiss you, you know." I just gave him a thumbs up and kissed him. At moments like that I wished I could just be Mae West; smooth, sexy, yet sarcastic and ready to go. No such luck.

I figured he was probably telling everyone how crazy I am. Lord only know how many dudes do that after dealing with me. Some have even gone to the internet and have done so. Needless to say, I was ready.

However, Kindred Spirit sent me a text telling me he liked chillin with me. I sent him a text with a smiley face. Then last night he dropped me a text asking if I was a night owl. Who knows?

I am not looking for a boyfriend because I am just a disaster area in relationships. I dont think he's looking for a girlfriend. I am just having a spring fling. Okay, I didnt think I was still this shy when it came to dudes. Then again, I havent dated in a while. I forgot how shy and anxious I get. But it is fun. Did I mention I am a mess? Now I want to see him again sort of but if it happens oh well, if not, whatever. Giggle, giggle.

On the other hand, to alleviate my anxiety, I might send one of my puppets on the date next time instead. It won't be April exactly, but it will be a very close representative. For certain, if I am not there they will not speak as much and they will not wear their hair wrong. I, on the other hand, will be at home making an angry youtube video. I will be reading my Sylvia Plath because we still have a few cold snaps left. Following her will be Emily Dickinson. Okay, maybe not. But you get my point.

Lastly, Kindred Spirit told me he would not be reading my blog. Well, unlike many a man I have dated, he can actually read which is a nice change of pace. That is, not that we are dating because I hate putting labels on things but you get my drift. I think he is lying. I think he will be at this blog in no time.

Either way my spring fling has started. *GULP*



Sunday, March 18, 2012


About a week and a half I did a show where I met someone, well we already knew each other, but our paths crossed again. I respect this person a lot. It was one of those nights where I was April being April. As usual, my plate was full. Whether I was delivering telegrams, talking to networks, on my way to publishing a book and having various radio stations usurping my song there I was. And there this person was. I didn’t care that I was bumped. I had one of my historic April Being April, not eating enough and overworked woman, anxiety attacks. Needless to say this person made me laugh. I still managed to finish my set, go to the diner with them, and shoot the shit.

I don’t know what it was, but I needed a good laugh that night. Sometimes I stress myself out so much that it’s not even funny. There is a part of me that is so wicked, so devil may care. On the other hand I am the anal retentive stick in the mud who will correct your grammar. I will let you know how you failed at syntax, therefore I will make you believe you have failed at life. You don’t know this part of me exists until you make the egregious error of meeting her. Then we can no longer be friends.

We went to a diner that night after the show and shot the shit. He is like me, this person. Shoot from the hip. Most of the people I loved in this world have shot from the hip. I always say my friend Roger and I had that same weakness. We told the truth, that is to the point where it got us in quicksand. It pissed those around us off, but on some visceral level we got each other. That’s why I was always the one he called at two in the morning, always the one he called when he was in the hospital. Aside from the fact I wouldn’t kill him like most people, we understood each other. Too much of the truth was better than a lie, and because of him chocolate syrup is ruined on my pancakes forever. Damn you Roger.

Anyway, we just talked about things and he walked to me the train where he kissed me afterwards. I didn’t take it personally. I didn’t invest much affection into it. He is a guy who has been around and that’s fine. We are honest about what it is, and the craziness that is our life. If anything it made me smile a little bit with the moonlight and the moon beams around it.

Then fast forward to today. I have been sick for the past few days. Friday night/Saturday morning I was puking and shitting to the point where I felt like I could die. I have been working too hard as usual. One step closer to publishing the book. Everything is coming together. Then blamo! As if missing my friend Scott’s party wasn’t bad enough, I felt like every step I took hurt and I cried my eyes out at the local supermarket when I was buying Ginger Ale. A gay guy and his partner saw me and gave me a hug because they felt so bad for me.

Well today wasn’t much better. After church I felt a little better, took a jaunt, and then when I felt worn out went back home. To which online I discovered a thread where a male pig posted something degrading to women. When I see that errant nonsense, the activist in me comes out. Yes, I was in a relationship with a psycho who occasionally hit me and even went so far as to stalk me afterwards. As a result I am aware, painfully aware, of what the power of words can do. I said my piece and the guy messaged me saying Sinatra used the same language. I also pointed out that we used to refer to Asians as Chinaman and Native Americans as redman. Neither were appropriate any longer.

Well I got into a fight with his idiot followers, many fat women with no sense of self, for almost two hours. Looking back, I feel stupider. But my point was jokes like these and words like those contribute to attitudes of hate and indifference towards women’s issues and therefore the belief that it’s okay to “smack a bitch.” The one woman who kept jumping down my throat used the c-word and b-word easily when it came to other women which concerned me. Of course who am I to judge, especially when she tells me she has three kids who are probably running with scissors. Either way, I don’t know what made me angrier: The fact that this prick’s errant hate towards women has followers, and the fact I don’t think it’s a joke? Or the fact that classless women who benefit from many social programs and various reforms that are struck down because of these attitudes defend this chauvinism on a large scale?

So I took a walk and guess who messages me? My coffee shop friend. Originally he had something to do but got the date wrong. Anyway, he ended up calling me on the phone and we talked for sometime. Again, he was the laugh and smile I needed. Okay, it was an hour and a half but like me he shoots from the hip. He told me that if he stole me flowers from the cemetery, he would make sure the mother sign was torn off. Already a step ahead of many of my suitors. He also told me that he would never steal me presents from the Lost and Found, that was gauche. Already a step ahead of the man I almost married. Plus he used the word gauche correctly in a sentence. Not to mention if a pigmie tried to abduct me, he would fight the pigmie to the death.

He described himself as half gentlemen, half savage. He told me he would hold the door for me and smack my ass when I walked through. I like an honest man. I like a man damnit.

I won’t say that’s love because that is just scary. I won’t say it’s like cause why ruin a good thing. I will just say I’m smitten. I’m not looking for love or lust. I can’t handle that. Instead I just want to smile and remember someone fondly when they go, not as a clingy little bitch who just wanted a mommy. When things get real I will probably make like a man and run.

Until that day comes, I am simply smitten with a kindred spirit. *Giggle*



Friday, March 16, 2012

Lent and What It Means to Me

When I was a kid my folks weren’t super religious. We went to church every Sunday, did the holy days, and then of course the no meat on Friday during Lent. My mom wasn’t as big on us giving things up as she was us doing a nice thing, like volunteering at a nursing home. It was anything to take the focus off of ourselves and perhaps to find God. Well then again, Catholics as a rule as never fervently religious, but more or less stubbornly adherent to tradition. Heck, the last time I checked our clergy still couldn't marry.
Alter boys anyone.....Okay, I had to make the joke. 
Like all Fridays during Lent, we didn’t do meat. When we were younger and were in that phase, we did fish sticks. My mom threw them in the tray, threw them in the oven, and put dipping sauce on the table. We were so little that we figured they were like chicken nuggets, except they were fish. Sometimes, we even went to Long John Silvers up the road. Usually, the folks that worked at Long John Silvers where I lived had been rejected from McDonald’s and were on welfare much faster than their fry and Big Mac slinging counterparts. Nonetheless, it was a nice way to mix up Friday.
As we got older and grew out of the fish sticks, my mom mixed it up. We had tuna  noodle casserole. I know I am one of the few people in the world who likes the dish but oh well. My mom does cook the best. During that phase in my life my dad’s mother, Ralph, had a host of health problems and needed visitors on the regular. My folks usually took Fridays, and we brought fish from places like Freddy’s II, a delicious restaurant in my hometown. Or we went to Pasta Too, but the problem was the wait time to order was eternal, and everyone and their mother knew about the yummy fish sandwiches.
One time my mom had to go out of town during Lent. I was left to cook and my father, like many men, doesn’t like my cooking. While my dad likes my lasagna, my burgers, my breaded chicken he does not like my fish. The night before, my eleven year old brain failed to properly read the instructions. My sister’s eight year old brain then backed up my stupidity and we burnt one dish and left the middle of another frozen. My brother, being the typical male, failed to help us in the kitchen as he slaughtered opponents on his Sega Genesis. So when Friday came, my dad decided to make it a take out and movie night. Being a woman, not having to cook no matter how old you are is awesome. So needless to say, my dad became the most awesome man in the world at that moment. 
We went to the American Legion and had the greasiest, yet most delectable fish sandwiches ever. There was so much grease on that bun I could feel my eleven year old arties clog, but I didn’t care. It was good, damn good. After that, we watched some shoot ‘em up movie. While my dad often masqueraded as the bad cop when we were growing up, it was an occupational hazard. My mom was the good cop and someone had to balance out in this dragnet. While he was less than happy he had to sign my homework card for an assignment forgotten, on the other hand he told me it happened. My dad also informed me that while one might make mistakes, the goal was to never make them again and just to turn my homework in on time from that day forward. I was surprised. My mother, on the other hand, would have lost her mind, reamed me out. She would have been okay with the failed math test as long as I told the truth. But being a teacher, she didnt tolerate not doing homework or worse yet, losing it.
And being a gym teacher, she would have had a heart attack if she saw the grease entering the veins of our bodies. She would have reminded my father that high blood pressure and heart disease ran in his family, and that we were to eat healthy things like vegetables. To which my brother would reply, "Easy on dad mom. French fries are made from potatoes and that's a vegetable."
 Then there was Good Friday. When I was younger, we were told there was to be no television, radio, or any other things that killed the brain and made noise from twelve to three. When I was about six or seven, I wanted to watch cartoons with my sister. We were home from school. My mother said, “You can’t do that. Jesus is on the cross.” I told him it didn’t look like Jesus was anywhere to be found and both my sister and I proceeded to turn on the TV. My dad, who had come home early, found us, snatched the clicker from my hand, yelled at us, and then sent us to our rooms. Needless to say my sister and I never challenged that rule again.
When I got to college, however, I learned to use Good Friday to my advantage. Many of the Catholic students claimed it was a religious holiday. My first year of school, when I was active in what was the Catholic Center at NYU, I went to church and there was some sort of mass. My second year I used the “holy day” as an excuse to get not one but two term papers done. Sure I wasn’t praying, but I was using God’s time wisely. Third year of college I spent all day doing homework, and then jumped on the train to spend Easter weekend with my ex-fiance and his friends in NJ.
These days, while I am not a theocrat, I do observe Lent in my own way. It is part of my upbringing that I just never quite shook. I eat fish when Friday comes whether it is a tuna melt, macaroni and cheese, or shrimp and rice from the local food cart. Sometimes, if a diner has it, I go for the lobster bisque.
I also try to do more service during Lent. Whether it is volunteering for causes related to HIV/AIDS education, domestic violence prevention, or any anti-bullying charity. I also have found myself not going on facebook after twelve noon on Fridays. It’s not because facebook is bad, but because it is something outside of myself that takes the focus off of me. When I get that noise out of my head, that gossip, that drama out of my head I remember what’s important. I remember my purpose in life is to do service.
While I do not consider myself terribly religious, I am more spiritual than anything. This is my opportunity that I take once a year to cleanse my mind, soul, and spirit. We live in a world polluted by so much hate, filth, distrust, and prejudice. So I take abstaining from meat and giving up facebook on Friday afternoon/evenings as a chance to get back to basics. To me, God isn’t about a man in the sky, a wrathful being, it’s about peace of mind. We don’t have enough of that in this world.
PS. Feel free to tell me if and how you honor your spirituality. Or if you don't and why not.