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A Blog About (Hot) Dudeskis

Sunday, March 30th, 2014
It is kinda starting to get warmer outside. So that means I am doing some guy watching. There are these guys who play basketball in the court across the street from me. They are all ages. Sometimes they are teenagers but look kind of old. Other times they obvious grown men. And sometimes it's an all ages game.

The hot boys are coming out and they are on the court. I mean, these boys is fine yo. The other day, it was the first warm day in like forever. So these guys wanting to strut their machoness and manhood were playing shirtless. They were yum like Betty Crocker. The youngest was like nineteen and the oldest was I don't know how old. But they all looked fantastic. The entire time I watched by the side of the court like a weird stalker. What can I say, it had been a long winter and they were making me sweat along with them.

However, when I say the entire time I meant five minutes. I felt creepy and pathetic, like I was throwing my feminist ideals out the window. I thought if I made eye contact one would wave. But I didn't. Instead, the angry feminist returned and she yelled at me in my head. There was a world to conquer and these men had a basketball game to win. They can win their game, and I can conquer the world and make them my concubines.


Anyway, my Mema Ralph aka my dad's mom always said that I needed a nice Catholic boy.She said not just to ask God for a husband, but for the right one. So there was this hottie in church the other Sunday. He was coming in as I was coming out. I was in my cute little dress and tried to flash him a smile. No such luck. I tried again. Then I saw he was with his grandmother and what looked to be a brother. He was so not into me. God had not answered my prayers on that Johnny Angel.

Then this Sunday I went back to see if I could snag me the same hottie but he did not materialize. Instead another one who gave me the diss. One that I was not into was totally into me. Then I heard God say, "My house is not a pick up joint."

And I said, "God, you are no fun."

So  I left church, ran down the stairs, and fell on my ass.

God had the last laugh.


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

Come see my DVD taping
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd @ 7pm
34 W. 22nd Street

Falling in Love (Miami Sound Machine)

Sunday, March 16th, 2014
Spring is trying to happen. Winter is like that girl at a party that won't leave. You drop all the hints the party is over. You are taking the table cloth off. You are throwing away the empty plates. Hell, you are even turning on the TV and putting on your PJs and there she is. It's sunny outside but there is this wind. Yes, there she is. Winter, party guest that just doesn't get the hint.

I have been thinking an awful lot about love and relationships for some reason. It has been forever and a day since I had a man. The weather reminds of the last time I had a lover. Actually, he was like Tony Manero from Saturday Night Fever. A Brooklyn asshole and perpetual ladies man, he basically lied to me to get whatever he wanted and needed. Yet I found him funny and enjoyed his company. He catted around with anything that had a vagina and a pulse. Yet when I would mention another dude he would flip. I was out and about the other night when his name came up. Someone said they thought he was the best at what he did and admired his body of work. The whole notion made me want to vomit. Do they know he uses women to further his career? Do they know he hasn't been someone since 2007? Do they know I seriously did enjoy his company as I said before he transformed into his asshole self?

The weird thing is, I liked him a lot even still. Tony Manero has been crossing my mind an awful lot. Word on the street was he liked me a lot. But alas, he was a Brooklyn asshole. I did like him and thought maybe he could eventually turn into a boyfriend but that faded pretty quickly.

I also find myself evoking feelings for a friend of mine. Things got crazy between us for a minute. It was the type of thing where he could always read my mind. Kind of crazy kind of sort. I know this sounds like the diary of a high school girl. Anyway, he a major workaholic and is always on thin ice with his woman. Once I heard them talking on the phone and she was screaming at him. I mean yelling. It's not like he was sneaking around. No, he was working. And he was nothing like Tony Manero. Actually just the opposite. He was sweet, very sweet. Outwardly he is different than me. While he is quiet, he is far from shy. Anyway, we had been friends for a number of years and when he tells a story he is fantastically funny. Well a year ago it became apparent he was into me and I was into him. Needless to say, I don't think he was into me because he was into me. It was because he was on thin ice at home, I am more like one of the guys, and I was a woman with a pulse he could speak to.

Anyway, he had another friend who was kind of into me. I was kind of into his friend too who was a bit of a bad boy. Needless to say my buddy got a tad jealous and the two kind of got into it over me. I am not talking all out street fight but they were just doing that testosterone loaded bitchy snipping. Apparently his pal had a lady too. But it didn't stop his pal from catting around. These dudes, sigh.........

I heard from this buddy two weeks ago and he wants to hang out at some point. Maybe he is single. God I almost hope so. It's not that I dislike his lady, I actually kind of like her. I just feel like they are wrong for each other. Even if I didn't have a thing for him somewhat I would still feel that. She's really girly and really demanding. Who knows? Maybe my pal likes getting his ass kicked. I should have asked if he was single. Apparently they are having a party in a week or two. I will find out then. The whole thing was kind of strange when it happened because I didn't think this pal would have ever been into me. He is the type who really has his pick of the ladies when he is single. Plus he's had years to make a move. Who knows? Men are straaaannnnnnnnngggggggeeeee creatures.

The impending warm weather finds me wanting to have a romantic partner just to have nice dinner's with. That's what I miss about the last official Mr. April Brucker. He was a liar and had other downfalls but he knew a good place to eat. I just want someone to take me out to eat and to dress up for. Hell the weather reminds me of the first time I met him. I also find myself replaying the tape of that relationship and how I was just a horrendous girlfriend. Granted, we were also a terrible match. His current lady hates me. However, he was the first man I ever shared my dreams with. I want to drop him a line and tell him about all the exciting things I am doing with myself. About how I am doing all the things we always talked about me doing. Then again, his current fat whats her face has said some terrible things about me so that's not happening.

The other day a hottie from Turkey helped me carry my groceries to my door. That was nice of him, and he was a total young jack. I could have had a spring fling with him. Another guy I met on the street offered me a role in a porno. I wanted to know if the job had health benefits because one can get STDs doing that kind of work. He still didn't return my text.

There is a basketball court across the street from me. The other day a bunch of young dudes with spring fever were taking off their shirts and playing a spirited game. The yelling and cheering was so loud and had so much bro kick to it I could hear it in my apartment. Like a spooky person peering from her window I watched. Hell, I was a spooky person peering from her window.

I figured maybe I could meet my next dream man there. It's better than scouting the methadone clinic like I usually do for rainbow meat. Then I remember I am a broken toy with lots of baggage that has been dropped a gazillion times. I also think maybe I give people too much credit for being normal and don't give myself enough. Then I see the basketball game and realize they are all fifteen and just look really adult for their ages.

Screw the methadone clinic. I am going to the court house to look for defendants. They will appreciate my hot little outfits. Hey, they might not see a woman for the next 20 years and spring is coming up. And when that ends, maybe I can date their lawyer and live happily ever after. Until then, it's too cold for such nonsense. The dream of the fake lover boy will have to wait.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Come see me
Metropolitan Room
April 22nd at 7pm

Beat of Love (Regina)

Tuesday, March 11th, 2014
It is the first warm day in forever. Man do I have such cabin fever. First thing is first, I have been itching like a bitch to come out of my house. I usually don't book many live shows in the winter. It's not because I am lazy. It's because the likelihood of them getting cancelled is quite good. Between the cold, snow, and other natural elements cramping my style I more or less write and make videos. Plus if they do happen, attendance is sparse.

I am wearing a cute little outfit that is a gift from a friend. I figure, why not? I just need to have some warm spring adventures. Yes, this means finding love. It has been forever since I had a real boyfriend. When I was younger I had the fiance which was a disaster. Then I had a boyfriend. Actually, I am having some of the same things happen to me when this last real boyfriend entered my life. I am getting some good career news, and again am kind of spear heading a project I was only tapping then. I still have the same dreams, and again they are unfolding before my eyes.  But yet I feel lonely as freaking hell.

I almost miss talking to that ex because we have so much in common. I mean, he did some things well. He was a food and wine snob. He had a nice condo. Granted, he bored me otherwise and his mom was cat shit crazy. Oh and his female bestie tortured me whenever she could because she wanted him, and always knew much too much about our relationship....boundaries much. Still, it was the first time in my life someone I dated hadn't been to jail. As a criminal lawyer, he was not far away from being a convict. It rocked my freaking sense of trust when I found out he was a pathological liar. His current whatever the fuck she is occasionally harasses me. She has been quiet for sometime. Maybe they adjusted her meds or maybe she found a new drug to make her fat ass nod off. So no, we ain't getting back together, thank Jesus.

It's weird, it has been forever and a day since I walked down the street holding someone's hand. Or I had a picnic in the park with someone. I forget how much fun that can be. Better yet, then there is the dinner with a dude. Yeah, I have dinner with male friends who are gay but it's not the same. I don't know. It's just.....something you want when it is warm.

Yeah, I had Holden. You read all about him. He got wrapped up in drugs and all my friends scolded me when I cried codependent tears for him. Now he's sobered up, found God, and let me just say he is more annoying than ever. Have you ever found yourself missing someone who did drugs and slept with men for money? I did once he started quoting The Big Book of AA and Scriptures. I never thought I found myself missing someone who was such a mess. Actually, he is just a different mess. Either way, he is now working at Sears and is with a woman just as crazy as he is. Good, they deserve each other. Still, it was one of the few times in my life that I said I love you and meant it.

Then of course there are the other satellites that I miss. There is Dead Beat Daddy, whom was just bad news in so many different ways. The last time I saw him he gave me this hug like he did nothing wrong and none of what happened between us was his fault whatsoever. But I find myself missing the initial connection we had at the beginning. Cancer guys, always the perfect dudes in the beginning but always have a deep dark secret and then they turn into their asshole selves. In there I also miss some other dudes I clicked with. Yes, I mean Richie who didn't exactly have his life together and neither did I but he was sweet. I also missed the celebrity I dated briefly, but he is on to someone new. Then a fling I had once upon a time is getting married which is strange.

The one entering my mind that is kind of weird is a crush I had last year. He was working on this project with me. It was all kind of crazy. Holden was in and out of my life, more out. Still, I was kind of hung over from the experience. Anyway, I developed a crush on this dude. It was hard to say whether or not he liked me back. Sometimes I thought he did. Sometimes it was that I didn't even exist. Actually, he was kind of shy and studious and all that shit I am not normally attracted to. It's not that he was being rude, he was just, I dunno. I mean, he knew my name and all but he was always surrounded by beautiful women. I didnt have a prayer. In the end we just ended up as friends. It was for the best. My life would have killed him. Still, he was adorable. I don't think he knew I was crushing on him which was for the best but still. I don't think he was smart enough to catch on. I also think I was way overworked, way lonely, and he was just way there.

I get all sorts of fan mail from dudes who have seen me on TV. Some want to date me which is cool. I dunno, it is cool. Most of my fans are dudes. I don't even know what I am trying to say at this point. I feel like a fat, pathetic, thirteen year old girl. I guess what I am trying to say is, for as much male attention as my career has gotten me, I am still shy to the point of being pathetic. I don't know how to approach a dude. As for being a girlfriend I am a complete disaster. Between my laser career focus, my too much baggage, and lack of kitchen skill no man wants me. At least no dude with his shit together. I wouldn't know how to treat a nice dude if I had one.

You know what? The warm weather is damaging my fucking brain. I am just going crazy cause I have worked like a slave at the galley all winter. Because of it I am in a favorable position. I will be busy again. I am just having some insanity. Thank God it will be cold tomorrow. That way I can't make too many bad decisions this week

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

This Charming Man (The Smiths)

Thursday, January 16th, 2014
I love the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. When I watch it I turn into a woman. It is a transformation that I dread. Actually beyond dread. It is a part of me that is hard to share with the world, sentimental woman. As an ardent feminist, a word that scares any man, I think the idea of getting married oppresses women. It makes them throw in the towel on their hopes and dreams. It forces their enslavement to a man. Yet I am a junkie for happily ever after. God I hate that.

This past summer I did a show at a Greek Church. I got the gig through a long time supporter and fan of mine. Truth, Greeks are really into being Greek. This was the Greek Festival. I am not Greek or even Eastern European in the least. My family is from Germany, Austria, and Ireland. I might have some Dutch, French and other things in me. I dunno. Anyway, the festival turned out to be a lot of fun. The kids were great. I ended up feeling at home because even though they were Orthodox, I grew up in the Catholic Church which is like their cousin. Not to mention my first priest was Croatian and very old school. This church reminded me a lot of the one I grew up in. I ended up doing a great show and ended up eating some delicious food. Oh and someone recognized me from TV.

Anyway, in the Greek Church priests can marry. This is where they split with their Roman counterparts. The priest had a cute son who was in charge of the youth group. I mean dark hair, dark eyes, dreamy kind of. I remember thinking as he told me that they wanted me back I thought, "I will come back. That is, if I can hang out with you afterwards." But then I found out he had a girlfriend. Maybe they broke up. Still, drats. But apparently I wasn't the only one after him. There were actually a lot of nice dudes there that day. Made me want a husband....almost.

Yesterday I did a show at Morgan Stanley Children's. The show ended up being a lot of fun. We only had a handfull of patients attend because some aren't cleared to leave their rooms. These kids are sick, cancer and the whole nine yards. It's actually quite sad. However, the ones who were in attendance were boys. One thing about little boys is they don't do lame fairy stories. They do adventure stories. So thank goodness I had a sled riding adventure story. Thank God it had a monster. There is something about young guys. They like that stuff. That is why sometimes I actually like performing for little boys more. They like action, they like adventure, they like to slay the dragon. Even young, they don't want to talk about feelings. They want you to get to the point. That involves more imagination.

I didn't want to make the story too scary. I didn't know how young these kids would be. Still, next time there might be an alien or something. I don't know. More at stake. I wanted to write the story so there would be no references to death or dying, because some of these kids might not survive. It's the brutal, sad truth. Actually, in a way I feel guilty for kvetching as much as I do in blog land. I also was told I couldn't reference food. So an adventure story was the way to go.

My career lately has been about a lot of maybe. I just sent some paperwork for a project that is now a super maybe. It's exciting because I worked for this super maybe. Either way, I have a lot of male fans. I am bringing them up because their letters are usually funny. Something about dudes, they always find the humor in everything. Anyway, two wrote me to ask me for autographed pictures. This past weekend I sent them out. I feel like if they saw me in my sweats running errands like I usually am they would pass on ever asking me for my picture. It would be like I was thirteen again. "Will you go out with me.....Just kidding." I did look good yesterday. I will say that.

Lately I have been thinking about dating and the whole nine yards. It has been years since there has been a Mr. April Brucker. Although I would like to pretend it doesn't, the specter of my former fiance still haunts me. I know he was sick and damaged and I still give his presence way too much room in my life, but once you see a red light it is hard to close your eyes when it turns yellow. Translated, I don't trust potential partners too much. I know how fast they can turn to blood enemies. I know in my heart men will think the career is cute until they see the fan mail I get or until it takes me away from them. That is when it is back to the kitchen to cook and make babies.

And then there is the Mr. April Brucker I had a few years ago who's current wife or girlfriend or whatever she calls herself feels the need to harass me from time to time. She has been quiet lately, probably gaining weight or popping pills as usual. Still, it makes dating interesting. Sure you aren't harassing me but will your current girlfriend stop please? It's like she wants to sleep with me, seriously. Maybe she does. It's the closest she will ever get to my career. While the phone calls are a little much maybe she could send me flowers next time.

And Holden, I had to let him go. I loved him more than anyone. Maybe we could have made a home. Two alley cats who spoke the same language and knew what it was like to drink out of the rotten milk bowl. Sometimes I still wish he would come back to Manhattan so we could play house. Everyone tells me I did the right thing. He didn't want to get sober or take his psych meds. But it didn't feel like the right thing. Sigh....

Last night I found myself confessing to a long time friend that I was dreaming of a married former flame. He was a Jewish fellow who was kind of cheesy. I will admit sometimes Jewish dudes make me weak in the knees. It is because they always know how to make me laugh. Anyway, I had a dream about him two nights ago and we were dating again. It was crazy. The last few times I saw him he was acting oddly. Although it didn't work out and he married someone else, I think he still cares for me. He made that clear the last time we saw each other. Other people have even told me as much. Still, he is married to someone else. Granted his wife is kind of spoiled but he picked her. Not my problem. Maybe I am just lonely.

I also found myself dreaming of someone I connected with a few months ago. He was a music producer I met at a party who was clearly hot for me. Unlike the rest of the men interested in me, he was quiet and shy kind of. I knew it took every nerve he had to say hi to me. He actually tried to ask me out kinda but was totally retarded about it. Anyway my friend suggested I contact his studio saying I have a project and blah blah blah just to talk to him. First off he will know that is a lie and I will feel stupid doing it. Second, it will be a complete bust. Third, from the looks of his photos online he is sleeping with something that wears less clothing than Pamela Anderson. Or maybe that is a cop out. Either way she calls herself an "artist." Maybe she is. I hope they are happy. I would never humiliate myself to get close to someone not man enough to talk to me.

Apparently I frighten men. I don't get it. If I scare you at my petite size you deserve to be scared. You deserve to have your man card pulled. End of story. Still, it is weird when my mom tries to fix me up in an elevator or gives my phone number to strangers. She tried to a few weeks ago. It was awkward. I wanted to shoot myself. Especially since afterward she said I didnt even try. Well mom, you were making it awkward.

There is a part of me that is comfortable being alone. I have my ways and don't want anyone to interfere with their outside influence. Especially a man. Yes, creature who wants me to slave in the kitchen and then perform magic tricks in the bedroom who will eventually cheat anyway. Creature who I have gotten along just fine without. Creature who will put a spoke in the bicycle I ride called ambition. Creatures who make me justify every achievement I have in comedy and writing. Creatures who make me apologize for speaking out on behalf of women. Creatures who label me a man hater for my points of view. Creatures who attempt without success to make me feel guilty for being strong. A boyfriend would just get in the way.

Then there is a part of me that wants someone. Someone to tell me it is going to be okay. Someone to laugh with. Someone to be cheesy with, holding hands on the street. Someone to fight with. A handsome prince who loves puppets. Granted, he will probably disappoint me but not as long as he lives in my mind. Did I mention I am a woman? Did I mention that it sucks when that part of me comes out?

Still I have been on my own so long I wouldn't know what to do with a dude. I wouldn't know how to make one happy. Adventure stories with puppets work for young ones but not old ones. What would I wear? Where would be go? Either way, I think I will stick to being incredibly insecure and awkward, carrying my puppet children and books in a case. They need their mother, my creations. They don't need a father. So far this single parent home has worked perfectly.

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

What Is Love (Howard Jones)

Sunday, November 24th, 2013
I had a deep conversation with a fellow comedian online last night. This dude has had a hell of a year. I would tell you but it means putting his personal business out for the world to see and he is not in a place where that would be good let alone helpful for him. Anyway, we were discussing relationships and such via facebook chat where all good things happen. And then the subject of love came up.
I don’t believe in love. I don’t think it is possible. I think that humans should just be polyamorous creatures. It’s hard to be loyal so why should we do it? Love always fades in the end. People always disappoint us. Sex cheapens everything. Just have open relationships and then the cheating factor is out the window.
The dude surprised me by saying he felt like he needed to watch a Disney Movie after hanging out with me. He said that if it weren’t for love life wouldn’t be worth it. Either this was a line to totally bait me, or he is that much of a sucker. I teased him and told him to stop acting like such a damn woman. I couldn’t tell what he was going for, Emo or Shakespeare. Either way, it made me think. Maybe I am too cynical.
I thought of the two men I almost married. The psychotic fiancé and I were so intense I thought it was love. It was really two self-centered children who got high off of drama, conflict, and loved the attention it brought them. When the ex stalked me when it ended it was about control, not the fact he still loved me. I also spoke about it Friday when I was interviewed on camera for a documentary. I thought if I gave up my ventriloquism for someone who was emotionally and physically abusive he would change. Instead it was a testament to my low self-worth, and that is what scares me the most to look at. That I played a role.
The second time he had pretty outsides like a nice job and he could have given me a nice life. I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to live happily ever after. I was happy he didn’t call me a bitch, hit me, and thrilled he had a job. He said he loved me but I never believed him. Maybe it’s because I knew I wasn’t being honest. He spent lots of money on me. I treated him like crap though. Then I found out he had a lying problem. It served me right. I was so fixated on the externals I didn’t focus on what really mattered.
For the most part these days I am happily single. I don’t even think of love. My friends in relationships all seemingly want to jump into traffic. And when they don’t whine about the fact their lover snores or whatever, they are forced to give up their dreams to be baby making machines from hell. And are they happy? I don’t know. They say they are but then they tell me how they wish they had my life. I am broke a lot of the time. I do my own home repairs. I sleep alone. As a result I follow my dreams and am starting to have an inkling of a career. That is why it pisses me off when my coupled friends and rels try to fix me up, as if I am some sad, bizarre charity case.
On the other hand, sometimes I see couples walking hand and hand. Sometimes I just want someone to hold me, tell me it is alright just like the womanizing friend in Wedding Crashers. As I get older too I wonder if I will die alone. It’s weird. Sometimes I just want someone. I want to believe love exits.

Then when I get a boyfriend I want to strangle him for being human. I want to yell at him for not being perfect. I berate him for not saying the right thing or getting my script in the mail. And then I get bored when I realize he has needs and can’t always be about me. Oh and I will end up hating his friends. And then if he snores I hate him more. Then I want to smother him with the pillow. As I look around my room and see my costumes and puppets I think I am better off with them.

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

Stranger Things

Thursday, August 8th, 2013
Today is my parents 38th wedding anniversary. My folks found love in the weirdest way. It was my Aunt Darlene's wedding. She and my Uncle Rob had been high school sweethearts and had been an item since they were kids. Long story short, my grandfather had died when my dad was nineteen so he was kind of the man of the house. The second of seven, oldest boy, his job was to give my aunt away. So they were all at the church for the big day.

When my grandfather died-my dad's dad-my grandmother was left with four kids still at home for the most part. My Aunt Margaret (RIP) was married. Aunt Darlene was getting married. While my dad still lived at home he was gainfully employed now that he was finished with college. But my grandmother still had four mouths to feed. Anyway, my Mema had some money from my grandfather's pension from the mill, but not enough. So my Nunni (RIP), my mom's mom, stepped in. Basically, what happened was my Nunni-a one time nurse-was able to help my Mema get a job as an LPN. Thus she got invited to her daughter's wedding as a thank you.

Well mom really didnt want to go. She had kinda sorta been dating my dad's cousin and blew the dude off. Apparently he was trying to be a pilot and according to my mother was "unstable." Anyway, my dad told his heartbroken cousin, "Forget that broad." Allegedly my dad had said hello to my mother while flying a kite on Flagstaff Hill at University of Pittsburgh but my mom blew him off. My mom alleges that my dad was tending bar at her cousin's party and was with some crazy red head and totally gave her the diss.My mom had no clue my dad was going to be there. She was just a young teacher, overworked, and wanted to be left alone. But my Nunni told her that she needed to go where the single guys were and that was a wedding.

Then the drama began. The bartender had a heart attack. So my Nunni and Mom stepped in to help serve drinks. One thing about my Nunni was that for as crazy as she could be, she was big into the spiritual part of Catholicism. On a good note, that meant helping out when things were crazy. On a not so good note, that meant rescuing riff raff she met at McDonald's and bringing them to family functions when they were either just out of jail or living at some half way house. Needless to say my dad was thankful.

This is how the exchange went from there.

Fire hall. Open scene.

Dad: Mrs. Wallisch, thank you so much. Let me know if there is anything I can do to repay you for helping make my sister's day special.

Nunni: Yes. Go over there and dance with my single daughter.

Nunni walks over to my mom

Nunni: See that young man right there. You are going to dance with him.

Mom: But Mom-

Nunni: Hush up. He is King of the Paper Boys. Now look distracted and bored.

(Note: My dad had gotten his MBA and was working for Price Water House. His MBA days were long over).

My Dad walks over

Dad: Want to dance

My mom doing a bad bored and distracted

Mom: Sure

Needless to say the rest is history. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad

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

Seriously Dudeskis

Sunday, August 4th, 2013
Okay, I don’t get the male gender sometimes. Granted, my own people are catty and take pot shots at each other, but dudeskis are just plain obsessed with sex sometimes. What I don’t get is when a guy will tell me how good he is in bed. I mean, why you be telling me how good you are in bed. Telling me how good you are in bed is like telling me that there is a Santa Claus. The more you tell me the less I believe.
The other night I was talking to a dudeski. I actually kind of like this one. Anyway, the dudeski and I were walking home and we were really hitting it off. To make a long story short he is going through some shitz right now so I am not pushing this. Anyway, he told me that when he services a girl he likes to do most of the work and is big on foreplay. Hmmmski. Most guys talk a good game.
Talk being the key word.
Then one guy told me how big his penis was. Then one dudeski told me he was superior at oral.
The only reply I have to these dudeskis is in your mind you might be superior, but if you have to tell me about this, you are mentally and physically inferior.
Machismo shot down. Game over McChicos!


Yes, No, Maybe

Sunday, July 28th, 2013
I have a crush. Yes, a crush. The first one I have had in months. It is an extremely long story. I can't get into it and well, it's just crazy. But yeah, have a crush. It's kind of crazy. Crushes are irresponsible. Crushes are one of those things that are imaginary. Men that I crush on are like Mr. Potato Head. You start from the ground up and build them step by step.

This dude is totally not my type in a lot of ways either. I mean he's good hearted and all. I just have a feeling that it totally wouldn't work out. But I don't care. I am entitled to my crush, right?

I was telling my new assistant Masimo about this. Masimo saw his photo, thought it he was hot -Masimo is gay by the way, and we giggled. Yes my crush is hot. Yes he is that kind of white boy I am not typically into. But I can dig it. In my mind he is Mr. Perfect, but I know otherwise. In my mind he can do no wrong and say nothing stupid, although his facebook page proves otherwise.

This week I did a show for some kids at the Phoenix House in Long Island. They age ranged from 15-20. According to them the 15 year olds were the worst coming in, doing the most drugs and drinking the hardest. When I looked at these kids I realized that they were at the yes, no and maybe age. I wanted to tell them now that I was no longer drinking my social skills with men had improved. That now I could look a dude in the eye without my puppets and tell him I thought he was hot.But that is a flat out lie. I can't. Most of the time when I have a crush I admire from afar. Usually I say something stupid and it's all over. Or I am just myself and they run in the other direction. However I think these dudes picked up on the fact I was awkward when it came to the guys, lol.

If only I had May Wilson's confidence than I would be getting boyfriends at my door all the time. Then again, when May offers sexual favors she doesn't get a stalker that followers her home.

Like an idiot I have been all over my crush's facebook page looking at the women he is posing with. And I have been taking the very female but very mentally unstable action of hating them all. In my mind this dude has gone from my boyfriend, to being the hottest lover ever, and we are breaking up as we speak and we have only talked a few times. And for the record I did the dumping. I know, sexified, right?

I cannot do this whole guy thing. It's just too hard.

Maybe I will stick to puppets. They do and say what I want.

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

On My Own

Tuesday, April 30th, 2013
I am currently single, singular. Yes, I am a singular noun. Woman.

What is annoying is when I have to constantly defend that against the world. People assume that just because I am single, therefore I am miserable. Just because I am single I am looking for a man. Just because I am single I must want you to fix me up with the miscreant that you met at McDonalds. Or even worse, just because I am single I want you to give me your input on why I am single, and therefore the knight in shining armor will come riding up.

Then there are the annoying single people who make it out like the status is a death sentence. No, you don't have terminal AIDS with complications coupled with ebola, you are just single. That is all. The ones that are especially stupid are the women. They act like it is the end of the world if they dont have a guy to buy them the flowers, give them the house, and then have a cush job so that they can sit on their asses. I have news for those women. Men will ultimately fail you. It's not because they are men. They are human. People will fail you. At the end of the day every man has the same piece of equipment and can do the same set of tricks. Essentially each is an annoying sperm donor. If you can't stand on your own two feet and need the help of a man, you have my permission to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. No one will miss your whining, annoying ass as you talk once again about how all you want is the partner. Yes, you were the dumb girl everyone wanted to ditch at the mall.

The cherry on top of the annoying cake in this equation is the men who assume that all I need to be happy is their penis. Yes, their penis will solve all my problems. It's like their penis is magic. Their penis won't make me what they term as bitter. Here is the Catch 22. If I were a man my bitterness would be called honesty. However because I am a woman my honesty is called bitterness. I am used to fighting this losing battle. I am used to guys puzzled that as a woman I know about football, loved mixed martial arts, and adore The Three Stooges. They want to know, "Why don't you have a man?" Answer, I don't want one. A man is like a puppy. You always need to take care of him, feed him, rub his belly. I don't feel like it. My life is too busy. Men also need to be needed. I don't need anyone to take care of me. I have my own job, my own apartment, and my own career. I don't need a white knight to come in and order me around and make me his maid. End of story.

I have dated extensively. When I was younger I had the shit show engagement. Then I dated the professionals who all needed professional help. Of course there were the bad boys, fun but ultimately a disaster. Lest we not forget the rappers who were also fun but had children everywhere. Same with the Spanish gangsters. And the angry white boys gave me a headache. Translated, I think I have dated enough to know that every guy is a sex starved, overgrown man child in need of a mommy therapist and I don't feel like putting up with it.

I am fine being on my own. Really. As a matter of fact I have a lot of fun. I come when I want. I go when I want. If I want to go alone I do that, and I leave alone without the nagging of a man date. If I want to go with friends, I do that too, and I don't have to worry about some dude saying something offensive about those I care for. I don't have to worry about whether or not he will like my parents. Not to mention on Friday night if I am not working I can kick it with my puppet kiddies and watch Lifetime Movies. Or I can take a kickboxing class. I don't have to worry about a dude and his bros on poker night where everyone is scratching their junk going on about the sex that they don't get from their girlfriends. Not to mention that I get some crazy fan mail, and if a boyfriend read that he would hit the roof. He would demand I be in the kitchen cooking for him at all times and I am one who burns food by the way. Oh and a guy would never do well at a book talk. And the way I travel for my career, a man would never understand that. He would want me to retire and pop out real children, not just puppets. Or he would want to show me off as some stupid trophy to his idiot friends as the girlfriend who writes books and gets on TV in order to control me. Fuck that. I don't need all this drama. No penis is worth that. Even if the penis is a magic penis with powers to seduce any woman on Earth.

When I see couples on the street I am not the least bit envious. I know behind every smile is some pain. Actually most of them are probably together because they are terrified of being alone to tell you the truth. I don't want that for myself. I would rather be happily alone with my own life than pretend to be happy with someone else because that is what the world tells me I should want. As someone who has half a brain, I always feel I have to fortify myself against people who don't understand.

That's okay because it is not their life. I am doing just fine flying on my own. I don't need any man and the penis he believes is magic. I don't need any man and the macho bullshit that comes with him strutting his testosterone. I don't need any man and his stupid ass friends running their stupid ass mouths about the women they claim to get that are probably less authentic than my puppets. I don't need any man in general. I have myself. If things get desperate there is always a vibrator store. And even then why bother when you can have career and ambition?

To all the young women reading my blog, and young guys too, you don't need anyone. Enjoy your youth and enjoy your life. A marriage and a child tether you. Even if you divorce the person you are still tethered to them. Do you want that drama when you can fly free? Because you were born free. And while we are at it, guess what, you enter this world alone. Even though you might be surrounded by loved ones you leave this world alone. So you leave single. Why bellyache about some man or woman? Why lose sleep over some piece of ass that can be easily replaced by striking up a conversation with a stranger at the corner deli? Why even stress when you can just have a good time?

That being said, I am not closing the door on a relationship either. If one comes along at one point when I feel so inclined, why not? There is nothing wrong with being in a relationship as long as you are happy and boundaries are healthy. I know people who are happily monogamous and happily married with kids. But the key is, when they took that step they were ready for it.

I am not ready for that crap. I like my freedom. I like my independence. Maybe one day I might want to live and love for someone else. But as of now, hell no. I am single and proud everyone. Holla!

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

Ebony and Ivory (Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson)

Sunday, April 14th, 2013

When I was a kid my cousin Martin told us all about his girlfriend Gia from college. From what my aunt told us Gia was smart, motivated, and got my cousin to apply for an internship at an auction house in New York. She chirped away at how wonderful this young woman was and what a difference she was making in Martin’s life. My Aunt mentioned speaking to Gia once on the phone and that she was “very sweet with a good sense of humor.” So we were all looking forward to meeting her at my grandparent’s anniversary gala that year. Like my cousin, Gia was a studio art major at Carnegie Mellon University. Apparently her mother also worked for President Clinton. However there was one detail my cousin left out.
Gia was guess who’s coming to dinner. She was ebony while my cousin was ivory. Translated, Gia was black. Yes my cousin was dating a black girl. You just didn’t do that in Western, PA. While the bathrooms and malls as well as theatres had been multi-racial since my parents were teenagers interracial dating was another matter. It was awkward meeting her at first. Not that I had an issue with it. Gia was very sweet and I liked talking to her. But what were my grandparents going to say? While they are good people they were from a different time. My Pop Pop shrugged it off. As long as Martin was happy. Nunni said what we were all thinking. “We all thought Martin was gay. He threw us off by being a vegetarian. Guess he surprised us all.”
Instantly Gia was accepted and we grew to like her a lot. During their courtship my brother Wendell nicknamed our cousin Brother Martin because he was a skinny, dorky, white dude who was a vegetarian and no one suspected he had such pimp power. Their relationship lasted about a year and we were upset when it ended. Why did Martin have to go screw it up with a woman who was so perfect? A woman who got him to focus on his goals? A woman who was so sweet? While my cousin has dated nice women since we all like Gia. But my mom’s family was the exception.
Around the time Gia dated Martin, I had adults around me with differing opinions. Some were family members that were distant on both sides. Others were parents of my friends. One such relation pulled me aside at a gathering because according to them I was dating age and we needed to have this convo. They informed me that while Martin was being daring “taking a bite of the dark meat,” I was not to do the same thing. In their words, only “trashy white women” did such a thing. Oh and once they did no white man would ever want them afterward. They would be tainted.
A friend’s dad was less than diplomatic. They lived a few streets over from a neighborhood that was sort of wrong side of the trackish. The black families and white trash kind of resided in the houses that looked like they were built out of cardboard. To them their neighbors were “pure filth” who made a lot of noise and “never worked.” I remember my friend’s dad caught wind of this and he said to me, “April, feel free to date who you want. But if you were my daughter dating a jigaboo I would probably beat you and you wouldn’t be welcome in my house. Oh, and once you start dating said jigaboo, he will treat you like property and beat you. And then when you have his kids he will leave you stranded.”
While looking back, these sentiments are terrible, I didn’t have any ready plans to date outside my race. There really weren’t blacks at my school. Actually there were six and they were all related. Any others that matriculated in were related as well. Occasionally we would get a group home kid or two, but they never lasted really usually cause they punched a teacher or something. It had nothing to do with them being black. We had white group home kids that did the same thing. Sometimes people done need to be schooled, even teachers.
However an experience in high school would scare me away from dating outside my race for sometime. About a year and a half later I made friends with a girl by the name of Annette. She had come to us from the Christian Academy and was a big Jesus nut. Freshmen year she began dating Jamal, a group home kid who was cousins with the six black kids in our school. (I didn’t want to assume all black people are related but in this case they are). Right away the white guys didn’t want anything to do with her. Whenever someone would pass her in the hall they would say, “There goes that piece of trash.” Then they would giggle and take bets on how long it would take for him to start using her as a punching bag.
Once in a study hall a tobacco chewing idiot heard us talking about her plans with Jamal. Apparently they were going out Friday night but couldn’t go out too late because Jamal had a probation curfew in his group home. Regardless of color, Jamal was a lousy boyfriend who never had any money and always made her pay. So this mongoloid turns around to offer his two cents. He turned around and said, “God made whites white and blacks black so that they wouldn’t mix. If you keep fucking that n***er your beige babies will have kinky hair.” Sure it was none of his business. But this mouth breather spoke for everyone in our area. From that day onward no white guy wanted her. Then again, she was also an extreme Jesus freak who tried to convert anyone who breathed. That pisses off anyone of any color.
That wasn’t even the worst of it. Annette got her ass beaten on the regular by Jamal’s sisters and cousins every time she went to visit him on the wrong side of the tracks. Just for kicks some of the white trash girls would jump in. I remember Annette coming to school with fat lips and black eyes. During this phase we hung out a lot and looked a like from the back. I was walking down the hall and heard, “Bitch, I want to beat your ass.” I turned around and it was Jamal’s sisters and their friends. I was dumbfounded and there was this moment of awkwardness. Jamal’s sister Keisha then said, “We are sorry April. We thought you were Annette. Tell Annette when we see her we will beat her fucking ass.” I lied and said I would deliver the message. My friend got pregnant with Jamal’s kid. Soon afterwards she dropped out of high school. He refused to work and started beating her up. Then she had another one of his kids and went to jail a few times before bolting. As I saw my friend in misery I wondered if some of my relatives and friend’s parents were correct. It was horrible to believe but maybe it was true. Then again, the truth isn’t always nice now is it?
When I moved to NYC I saw plenty of checkered couples as they were called, or salt n peppa. While in Western PA it would get you cat called and beaten up, in New York it seemed to be no big deal. They walked arm and arm peacefully, and seemed to have no problem showing off their mixed children. The whole thing was a huge culture shock for me. A lot of me wondered how the women didn’t do this without being stoned onsite. However I didn’t judge. One girl who I was fond of freshmen year had a black boyfriend and they always came to support me whenever I performed. It worked for them. But I was too afraid after Annette to touch that with a ten foot pole.

I was kind of on the shy side too. Black and Spanish guys were so straight forward it made my hair stand on end. The culture shock was too much as it was. I wasn’t a big dater anyway. Plus the opportunity didn’t come up to date outside of my race really. Sophomore year was different. I had the opportunity to date a black dude. Unlike Jamal, Jermaine was educated. He was ex-military and was doing work in the School of Continuing Ed. We had coffee once and while I didn’t get beaten, I remembered my friend Annette and how terrible her life was. Sure it was terrible to make Jamal the spokesmen for all black men, but it was hard not to. It was hard after everything my rels and friend’s parents had said came true. We were both busy and the connection fizzled. I could have pursued it but let it die. Looking back, I let someone of quality go because I was such an idiot and am ashamed to say it now. But still, it was scary.
During college and afterward, I dated mostly white boys when I did date. Many proved to have a lot of issues of their own and caused me grief in various ways which again is for another blog. While I was uptight about dating men of color, my gay friends were not. They embraced love outside of their color lines and bragged about dark meat and how well endowed it was. Sure there are better reasons to date someone than dick size but hey, we all have our needs I suppose. While they never left out a detail which made me chuckle, whatever made them happy, right?
Still I just wasn’t there in my life yet. I also didn’t have the opportunity. I worked a lot and plus I just wasn’t looking.
The universe had other plans though. I was at a show one night when a black dude asked me out. We clicked and I saw him a few times. This time around I found the fact he was so straight forward refreshing instead of frightening. I found that I laughed a lot with him and felt good. For the record, he never once hit me and he was a good tipper. Oh, and we didn’t dine and dash either. It didn’t last because it just fizzled out but it was fun. I sort of went through a small Jungle Fever phase and dated several black guys in a row. While I am hardly Kim Kardashian, I can safely say I can understand why she likes them. They were more romantic than white guys in my experience and just had more soul.  Not to mention they understood why I was so close to my mother and why I would kill anyone who spoke badly about her and do the time in jail with pleasure. White guys don’t always. They say things like, “Your mother is a grown woman. She can handle it.”When I dated them I didn’t see a color or a stigma but a personal connection. Sure it didn’t last but sometimes things just don’t. It doesn’t mean they were bad people.
After that I went through a Spanish Fly type of phase.  For the record that was not planned, it just happened. The opportunity presented itself and it just happened. Sure they were high drama sometimes, but white guys can be too. They just don’t get the street cred when it comes to being mucho dramatico. Spanish dudes also respected the familial connection I had, especially the one with Mi Madre and again, they understood why I am extremely protective of her. They also were good cooks. I had white guys cook for me, but they always had the same three recipes or they burned the Ramen Noodles. Spanish guys were great in the kitchen. They have a rep for being jealous and possessive, but white guys can be too as can black dudes and dues of any color. Most of the Spanish dudes I dated were pretty chill when it came to that with one exception. But I have dated crazy insecure white dudes so hey, maybe it’s a guy thing in general. I dunno. I dated several and again was not beaten or sold. Again it fizzled out not because we did anything bad but life simply just happens. But they were good people.
Since that time I have dated Arabs, Pacific Islanders, an Eskimo, and some guy who was a Gypsy. Don’t ask. Oh and then I dated Jewish guys too. In there I have mixed some WASPY guys. After that there were the white boys and skater boys. Some were nice, some were crazy. Some were bums regardless of their skin color. Others were cool and it just never worked out cause that is just life. Translated, I like what is on the inside not the outside.
The thing to be aware of when dating outside your race is that it isn’t just color that is different but the culture. Your ideas and their ideas might be very different when it comes to certain things. Have an open mind and be ready. Also, just remember at the end of the day regardless of who they are on the outside it counts again about the person on the inside. Don’t date outside of your race to piss off a redneck relative, because that person of a different color is still a person. Also, there will be people who will give you shit. But it doesn’t matter what they think. This is your life, therefore it is your happiness that matters regardless of what color your soul mate is. And for the record, kinky haired, mixed children like Halle Barry are beautiful and pimp it out on the golf course like Tiger Woods. Oh and our wonderful president Mr. Barack Obama is of mixed race and he too is black white and half white. The world is changing for the better and is you ask me it is a good thing, end of story. 
Since that time I found out I have cousins that are mixed. Some of my cousins are part black and others are part Indian. That is a beautiful thing and makes my family that much cooler, and both are stories for a different blog. My cousin is also currently dating a very nice Korean man, so my family is becoming even more mixed which is exciting.
In the end a guy is a guy is a guy. Regardless of what race, color, religion or creed they are one thing is for certain. They are all  sex starved, adult man children looking for a mommy who will give you a job or an errand to run for them without a second thought.  What I am trying to say is, we are all more alike than we know.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

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