April Winchell

As some of you have noticed, I haven’t blogged in a while. I also haven’t been on the radio since January 12, when I was on with Mr. KABC and Tom Kenny.

Speaking of which, I have uploaded the show from January 12th with Tom Kenny in the archives.

You may know that when I do Mr. KABC’s show, he sometimes will bring in a mystery guest and we’ll play What’s My Line?. This means I put on a blindfold, and try to guess the guest’s identity by asking a series of yes or no questions.It’s fun, but I have to admit that I don’t particularly care for the blindfold. I always feel like I’m a hostage, and it’s unnerving. And it doesn’t help that Mr. KABC and the mystery guest are giggling the whole time. It makes me wonder what’s going on that I can’t see.
Anyway, Tom was a great guest, and we all talked about many stupid things. He is really just genuinely funny, and I love the way his mind works. This show is also notable for the appearance of Mr. KABC’s 9 year old son, who completely geeked out at meeting the voice of Spongebob Squarepants.In any event, yes, you’re right, I have been pretty quiet lately. I haven’t done an update in weeks. Things have been kind of up and down, and I haven’t really known how much I wanted to say.I might as well start with the big one. After all the meetings, after all the waiting, after shooting the pilot and Fox News actually picking up the damn thing . . . I’m not doing the Half Hour News Hour after all.

Yeah, I’m not gonna lie. That one hurt. I won’t go into the details because I just managed to stop the bleeding. Let’s just say that I didn’t want to do what they wanted me to do. So I didn’t.

Well, what are you going to do, you know? This kind of shit happens all the time, and you have to be adult about it or you’ll never survive.

So I’m going to take the high road, and just say that I hope it’s a giant pile of shit that would have ruined my career and gotten me blacklisted.

No, actually I really like the people who created this show, and I sincerely wish them all the best.

Of course, God never closes a door without locking the windows and setting the house on fire, so I’m waiting patiently for the HBO project to fall apart. And seeing as I’ve now taped 5 separate tests for them and I’m being referred to as “the front runner”, that little gig should implode any day. I’ll keep you posted as disappointments ripen.

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On the positive side, I’m working.

You may recall that I was fired by my last advertising client a while ago. I had been writing and producing an extremely successful radio campaign for them for many years, so naturally they wanted a change.

In a wonderful twist of fate, their new big-time agency did such horrible radio for them that they couldn’t air it, and I was called in to create new spots. Is that fantastic or what? It’s the kind of professional schadenfraude usually reserved for people who make much more than I do.

I’ve already done five spots, and I think they’re really good. And I am rarely excited about the work I do, because like most people, I tend to be my own harshest critic.

But hot damn, these spots are funny. And I’m not just saying that because I’m in them.

Here are a few that are running now.

I also got a part on cartoon series for Nickelodeon called Tak and the Power of Juju, starring Hal Sparks. That’s going to be a very funny show (I play Donna; a butch sheep). And Mickey Mouse Clubhouse got picked up for another season, which means more Clarabelle Cow, and I want to apologize in advance for that.

Anyway, it’s very nice to be working again.

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I’m getting ready to move.

So is James Blunt, which is why I put his picture here. He’s moving to Switzerland, which is perfect because they’re neutral and he’s boring.

John and I are heading to a new place in about ten days and I am incredibly excited about it. It’s big and sunny and it’s in a great part of town, and I’m thrilled at the prospect of getting out of Santa Monica.

It’s true. After almost two years here, I can’t get out fast enough. I hate to sound like someone they’d crucify on the Huffington Post, but there are just too many bums pissing on themselves out here. Should you really have to step over human turds to get to the post office? I think not.

And I’ll tell you something else I’ve had enough of: people carrying yoga mats. Fuck you.

And I have really had it with Wild Oats. I’ve actually gotten attitude from checkers who don’t think I need a bag. Listen to me, you smelly ass hippie motherfucker with the Buck Fush bumper sticker, you will double bag my bag in a bag if I want you to. You don’t like it, buy some shoes and go back to school.

The people who work there are annoying enough, but the people who shop there are horrible. I’m looking at yogurt the other day, and this woman comes up behind me and stares until I look at her.

“Anti-oxidants,” she says.

I say, “What?”

And she says, “Anti-oxidants, that’s the most important thing“. And then she skulked back to her kale.

And I realized that people like that actually have to preach the gospel. They can’t just buy their unfiltered apple juice and keep quiet, they have to “save” you from your white flour and your free radicals. And I hate that, and I hate them, and I hate Wild Oats.

John and I have a game we play at Christmas time where we try to envision the Wild Oats Christmas party, but this blog has gone on too long already.