BLONDE LOGIC

Diagnosis, please

I may be the only hypochondriac that hates going to the doctor.  They ask so many questions. I feel like there are so withholding with their diagnosis. And I can never describe the pain I’m in. I just know I feel like shit. I think “my stomach hurts” should be enough to go on. The patient shouldn’t be responsible for knowing if it’s the upper or lower abdomen, if it’s only when I eat certain foods, or if  the pain intensifies before 7 am or  after 7 pm. Doctor’s always ask specific but yet obscure questions  “ well what kind of pain is it? Stabbing? Burning? Shooting?”  

I haven’t been stabbed, burned, or shot recently so I  really can’t say plus, if I had a history of  being stabbed, burned, and shot I’d probably have a pretty high threshold for pain and wouldn’t be running to the doctor for a bellyache. There might not be anything seriously wrong with me. Shit, maybe I just need to be burped - I don’t know. You’re the doctor figure it out.

What if I was mute? What if I had no means for communicating? What would you do then? I bet you wouldn’t be attempting to interrogate me  if I came in flailing my arms around, clutching my stomach, with  “I’m in horrible pain” facial expressions, all the  while making inaudible attempts to communicate. You would automatically believe that person but because I can talk I get the third degree about my ailment.

That’s bullshit.

I think everytime you go to the doctor they should act hyper concerned, even express some empathy. They should say “ I’m sorry you don’t feel good. I know how horrible it is to not feel 100%  but I deal with sick people all the time so don’t worry, your in good hands. Now let’s run every test ever invented and find something wrong with you! How does that sound?”

That’s all I really want.

 Someone who is as committed to finding something wrong with me as I am.

That’s all.

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

 

Self Imposed Sickness

My mother never believes I’m sick. If I don’t feel good it’s somehow my fault.

Recent phone call

“Hi Mom”

“What are you doing? You sound tired. Are you lying down?”

“I am tired. I don’t feel good.”

“why not? Did you sleep? You don’t let yourself get enough sleep. That’ll make you feel sick.”

“Mum, I slept. It’s not lack of sleep. Why is it so impossible for me to have the flu?”

“well, do you have the runs?”

You can’t answer that question to my mother because she’ll do one of two things. If you say yes, she’s like Paul Revere making sure everybody knows what is happening or she’s convinced you’ll be dead in 6 weeks. “didn’t you hear about that guy? younger than you! had the runs in April -dead by June. You better go to the Doctor. What do you mean by the runs anyway?’   

If you say no, you’re simply a hypochondriac.

Which I fully admit I am.

Last year I was convinced I had stomach cancer or a tumor or something. I was always bloated and tired. I went for a physical and the doctor, with what I thought to be a bit of a smirk,told me I was perfectly healthy but, by textbook standards, twenty pounds overweight. She said “ the good news is you don’t have stomach cancer, the bad news is your overweight. It’s a double standard because if you were a man at your height and weight, you would be healthy but since you’re a woman, your overweight. You should really lose twenty pounds”

“ I think the sex change might be easier”

She wasn’t smirking. She just looked like that.  

She said “ If you cut out carbs and alcohol for a month you’ll lose ten pounds and have so much more energy.”

Why do you always have to have more energy? Is there anything I can do to lose weight and remain as lethargic as possible? I’d  like to be skinny but apathetic if that’s an option.

I like my energy level. I get enough done. The other day I had ten hours sleep, I was up by 8, I had eaten three times by one o’clock.  Who needs that much energy? When I meet people who are super high energy I get tired. I want to exit the situation. It’s too much . It’s childlike too. I mean c’mon your still that enthusiastic about life? Yeah I like life too but I’m not a 24/7 cheerleader.  I have never been a cheerleader in my life and I’m proud of it. Or a sorority girl. Although I was a lil sister or something to a frat but I didn’t really have to do anything except go to their parties which I would have done anyway so I really wasn’t conforming. At least that’s how I rationalized it. Yeah so I avoid high energy people when I can. Just like hooking up with someone a lot younger than you. I hooked up with a guy in his early twenties last year or maybe the year before ,   I felt like I was head of damage control with an untrained puppy. He was all excited sniffing around and licking everything.

Spastic.  

I was like you better calm down, or  right back in your cage, mistah!

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

Rained Out

Rained out

Everything should have the option of being “rained out”.

I had a meeting in the city today with the cast of this Brazilian film thing which still seems like a farce to me.  It was pouring and really windy and it made me irritable. I hate meeting people for the first time when I’m in a bad mood and it’s raining and my hair is frizzy,   because then I feel like when they meet me again and I’m in a good mood and my hair looks normal, they’ll be like” oh she gets her hair blown out and now she’s all like “hiiiiiiiii” hugs and kisses. Well we know she’s  really a miserable, snappy bitch with frizzy hair. “

But I’m not.

My demeanor is pretty consistent so when I’m in a mood its clear.

Today I snubbed the neighborhood dogs. I have a few cute dogs in my neighborhood. When I see them I pat them and call them by their name. When the weather turned today, a couple of them were walking  down my street with a dogwalker. There was nobody else on the block except for  me and the dog walker and the few dogs he was walking. What does he do? He walks directly behind me. So close that I could have smacked the blackberry out of his texting hands. So now I’m on a barren block with a pack of dogs at my heels for no reason. Suddenly I’m the Pied Piper of pets with affluent owners. I don’t want to be.  I let it get to me. I step aside and let them pass. I don’t say hi to any of the dogs I know. I start walking again, right behind the dog walker. He doesn’t care. He’s probably stoned out of his mind. I was just about to be like”excuse me” and bustle by him and his dogs with an attitude, when one of the dogs stops to go to the bathroom. 

Witnessing him handling animal feces makes me feel better.  I’m not gonna hold a grudge about the forced Pied Piper thing. This guy picks up dog crap with his hands and then carries it around with him. In public.

Still, its rude to be flat tiring me on the sidewalk.

I was in a mood today. I blame it on the rain. I think that everybody should have carte blanche on raindays. It’s raining, everything is hypothetically cancelled. Even more so than snow. And if someone wants to hold you to a scheduled meeting, you have the right to say “OK fine but you gotta come to my house” . I think I’m gonna start using that disclaimer when I make plans ‘ OK but if its raining I get first call on location” . Someday I’ll be in a position to have all my plans take place at my bungalow. 

Or not have any plans at all.

Whichever comes first.

 

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

 

Familiar Stranger

Familiar Stranger

I think I know everybody.  I always end up insulting strangers. I’m like

“hey! I know you! you work at the butcher shop, right? “

“ ah no I’m a Professor at Columbia - economics.”

“Oh  how do I know you then?”

“ I don’t think you do”

“I see. Well ah you look like the guy at the butcher shop”

“ yeah you said that.”

“its not an insult”

“ bye now”

“bye. Nice meeting you”

The thing is I don’t go anywhere really interesting so I always think I know people from lame places and then they don’t want to discuss it any further. It’s hard to make good conversation about  resembling the butcher shop  guy .  The next time I think I recognize somebody I’m gonna make up something a little more interesting like

“Excuse me, didn’t we meet on a hiking expedition in Alaska in 2006?”

“Ah no. I’ve never  been hiking in Alaska”

“But you’re a hiker right? I mean you’re in great shape”   eyelash flutter

Belly in. Chest out. Gloss on.

 

That would never happen. I don’t have it in me.  My days of actively pursuing guys are over .Nowadays,  I can sit on a silent crush for years ,blame him for not picking up on my cryptic signals, and  avoid getting  involved with someone else because “this thing just  isn’t over yet”.

 Since I am in crush mode right now,  I reluctantly gave my number to a man/boy  the other night  who opted to use it for a text message. I was like a raving lunatic. Enough with the texting, guys. Seriously. It’s a pussy move. Sending a text is like passing a note in class.  It’s an easy way to avoid the anxiety of  possible  rejection. I get it. It’s easy. It’s safe. But it’s obvious. Don’t you want to hide your small balls? If I was a guy I would. 

It’s scary the amount of times I have heard myself say “ if I was a guy” lately. Right now ,at this point in my life I think I would be an unlikable man. I think I would be the guy trying to get my nice friends to go to Vegas for hookers despite any familial commitments they had. I’m in a bad place. There was a time I would see a cute guy on the subway and I would think “ I wonder what he does with himself? He’s looks smart and funny. An entrepreneur? Snowboarder? He looks like he’d be a good boyfriend” now I see a cute guy on the subway and I’m like “ he looks like he’d be good in bed. I wonder if he’s sleeping with anyone. Because if he’s not sleeping with anyone and I’m not sleeping with anyone well it only makes sense for us to be sleeping together. “

I didn’t respond  to man/boy’s  text.

 My crush would never do that. He would have called.  

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

Welterweight

Welterweight

I need a haircut. I hate getting haircuts because  changing your appearance is such an obvious thing, you gotta be ready for people to talk about it. Yesterday I was thinking about scheduling a haircut and I started envisioning the whole “Hey did you get a haircut? Looks good”  Thanks! Thanks for approving of my appearance. Appreciate that.

 It’s none of anybody’s business if I got a haircut anyway. Sometimes I don’t want to admit it. I’m like” no I didn’t get a haircut and I don’t appreciate the insinuation. I got a big face ok. My face got bigger what do you think about that? You wanna say “ hey did your face get bigger? Makes you look like you got a haircut! Looks good” then go ahead and say that but don’t say I got a haircut.  “

I was in a silly mood yesterday.

Last night I was eating buffalo chicken fingers at the bar and a cute guy started talking to me. He was very good looking . Did I already say he was attractive? He was. Probably the best looking guy I have seen in a while. I think most people would say he was attractive.  I think I made my point – hot guy strikes up conversation with buffalo chicken finger eating Kendra.  I had just gotten off of work and definitely  wasn’t looking as good as him which is probably why he started talking to me. Easy prey. Anyway he was skinny. And all I kept thinking about was the fact that he was skinny as I dipped my fries in blue cheese dressing. He looked  like a vegetarian or something.  I was in the process of bloating right in front of his very eyes. He was carrying on a conversation with me, looking me right in the eye which scores big points with me,  and I was already breaking up with him. Meanwhile he was probably sitting there thinking “look at this chick tear into those chicken fingers. Take a breath for Christ’s sake. I can’t go out with a chubscout who doesn’t even try to hide her enthusiasm for eating with her hands” .  

He never asked me for my number which is cool with me. If we were boxers, we’d be in two different divisions, lightweight and middleweight. That s my new litmus test for guys. Would we be in the same weight class for boxing?  Honestly, he would probably be more of a welterweight but  that is my favorite  category name and I  want to save it for when its applicable to me. Another ten pounds or so.  

So yeah, that’s dead in the water.

Although he did tell me where he works…………………….

 

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

On To the Next One

 

Last night someone was surprised to find I had Jay Z’s “On to the Next One”  on my IPod. ” I didn’t know you liked Jay Z” he said.

“ I like him but I don’t get him. I mean I get he’s the boss and he uses his cajones.  There was never a doubt in my mind that he keeps it fresh when he’s sexing. But “ someone bring me back some money please” ?  I don’t believe Jay Z is that polite.  And is he really that selfish?  Leave a couple of bucks circulating in the economy for Christ’s sake. I mean c’mon. You gotta have all the money? ”

 “ Ok I guess you don’t really like him ” he said. 

“I wouldn’t hook up with him if that’s what you mean”.

That won’t  stop me from singing along with the chorus “On to the Next One” 32 times- 8 times in each chorus, all within four minutes and 16 seconds.  I always wonder how they come up with the number. If I was recording a song and someone was like ok now say “ On to the next one “ 8 times , I think I would be like “ um do you think I need to repeat the same thing so many times. I mean  I can see repeating it twice but eight times? In a row? Isn’t that kinda annoying? “

 But it isn’t.

Knowing the acceptable repetitive number is a talent in itself.  I bet I said “On to the Next One “ three or four hundred times last week and I’m still not sick of it.

 

A couple of years ago I wrote what I called songs. My boyfriend at the time was a kick ass electric guitar player. He bugged me until I reluctantly shared the folder of lyrics I had come up with. Music was his thing not mine, I was intimidated. But he bought me a Fender Telecaster so I guess he wanted me in it. His only response after reading what I viewed to be my very personal lyrics : “ Why are you so attached to the ABAB  and AABB style?”

I should have kicked him in the twat right then and there.

I pretended I knew exactly what he was talking about and that the fact that his response did not include a supportive compliment did not bother me the least bit.

 “ I’m not so attached to it. I just like it.”

“ Well not everything has to rhyme” he said.

Apparently ABAB/AABB is rhyme structure.

That was the only thing he took away from my folder of vulnerability. That I liked things to rhyme.  I spent a good two weeks trying to come up with a smartass rhyme about him but he had already broken my spirit.  I made out with a bartender I had a crush on though.  So there.

 

I’m not much of a cheater. I went out with the electric guitar player for three years I think.  Maybe less. Definitely more than two.  I made out with the bartender guy twice. In the off chance my ex is still pining for me and following me online, I’m sorry I made out with someone else twice but I still think you cheated on me the time you said you fell asleep on the subway and stayed at your brother’s.  

Tell me I’m right. I know I am.

I don’t think kissing should constitute cheating anyways.  It’s just kissing.  It’s not often that I meet someone I want to kiss. Last year I made out with four different guys. Only one of them I hope to make out with again.  Some of them I did more than make out with.  I’m not bragging.

Well, maybe just a little.

 

 

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

 

 

 

 

 

Family Dreams

Family dreams

My mother recently told me she has always wanted to be a clown. It has always been a dream of hers. I never knew. I wish she hadn’t told me. She found an online clown school. At least her life long secret will come to fruition in the confines of her own home. Now everytime I talk to her on the phone I gotta wonder if she has oversized shoes on.

Clown school conversation  

Mum: “ Do you know how many balloons I’ve blown up this week. I’m exhausted. I don’t want to be a balloon clown. “

Me :“What kind of clown do you want to be?”    I know for a fact this is the first time in my life I have asked that question.

Mum: “You know the type of clown that makes people laugh. Like you”

Me: “Ok I gotta go”

Mum: “ Oh stop! I don’t mean you’re a clown.  I just mean, well, it doesn’t matter. I just need to figure out what kind of clown I want to be. Maybe a magic clown.”

Me: “why don’t you just be a magician?”  again, never said this to anyone before

Mum: “Naaa. I already got the outfit for the clown thing. I definitely want to be some sort of clown”

Me: “ok well I don’t know that much about the clown business but a magic clown seems good”

Mum: “ whats that? Are you watching tv?”

My mother loves to guess what I’m doing when I am on the phone with her. I’ll put down a coffee cup  and she’s like “ is that a bottle of wine? I heard a “cling” it sounded like you put down a bottle of wine”  Now I try to find things that make obscure noises and make her guess what it is. She never gets it right.

Once she did but I didn’t tell her.

My sister’s dream is different. My sister is the only person in the world I know who is dying to be on America’s Funniest Videos.  You can’t even talk to her when that show is on. She’ll curse you out. People send in their home videos and the” best “ home video wins $10,000. The winning video always includes either someone falling down the stairs, someone getting hit in the face, or somebody being humped by an animal. If you have one of those three things you’re basically a shoo- in.   My sister is sitting around thinking” if only I could get someone to slip on some stairs  landing so that  a shovel whacks them in the face – then a bull mastiff gets off on their broken fibula… ahhhhhhhhh that would be the trifecta”.

 I won’t even go down a set of stairs if she is arm’s length away.

 

I want to be the Doug Llewelyn of stand up comedy. Doug Llewelyn is the guy from People’s Court who talked to the plaintiff and defendant outside the courtroom after Judge Wapner made the final decision. He always sort of stuck it to the loser and seemd to be in cahoots with the winner. Most of his statements ended with “ how do you feel about that?”  or “ did you ever think this might happen?” or something that insinuates he has a very definite feeling or opinion about what has happened.

I think it would be fun to do that with comics. Grab them after they get off stage “ Now the comic thought talking about their recent nightmare about a talking monkey would rock the house. The audience didn’t agree. Here he comes now. Let’s see what he has to say.  Over here.  So you came here tonight with a plan. It didn’t work. Nobody knew what the hell you were talking about up there. What do you have to say about this? What’s your reaction? “

Comic tries to reframe experience.

“ The audience was pretty clear. They didn’t like you. I’m sure your confidence is rattled but I hope you’ve learned something from this. Good luck. “

Next comic.

“ You had some momentum up there tonight. You seemed a little drunk but the audience really connected with you. You got some big laughs. Are you satisified?  Did you expect more? Whats going on in that crazy head of yours?  “

 

No. I wouldn’t want that job.

But it would be funny to watch.

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

 

 

Great Traps

Great Traps

I spent a good portion of the day thinking about the skinny people I know. People who are naturally skinny. They eat and drink and do absolutely nothing athletic but the opposite sex always finds them entrancing. It’s infuriating. I mentioned this to a friend and she said “yeah but if you were one of those skinny chicks you wouldn’t have your personality”    Now I’m the chick with the good personality. Kiss of death.

I go to the gym regularly, mostly to prevent obesity. I don’t go to the gym thinking I am going to get skinny. I go to maintain chubby. I just don’t want to cross the line to fat. I know guys who are into fat chicks. They’re weird.  I like the chubscouts myself. My sister claims I don’t have a firm grasp on the difference between chubby and fat. She thinks a guy I dated last year should be classified as fat. Whatever. Guys get bloated too.

I went to the gym today for one half of an hour. Whoopee ding dong . I have a friend who can run on the treadmill for a half an hour and her ass pops  half way up her back. It’s genetics. I know another girl who does twenty sit ups in January and she’s walking around in half shirts until St Paddy’s Day. I got none of that. I got nice traps. Traps are the muscles at the back of the neck attached to the shoulder. They are the muscles that made the Incredible Hulk hulky. That’s the naturally toned muscle I got. I pick up a tuna sandwich and they pop. My shirt tears and people scatter.

I know people at the gym. I never wanted to be that person. I’m not in the clique though. They all peacock around with their protein drinks, fresh juice and fake tans. I’m swallowing my last bite of a cinnamon bun adlibbing about what work out I’m gonna do. I never have a plan. I think they know that. In fact I sometimes wonder what they say about me. I’m sure they’re like :

“Why do you think she even comes here? I mean obviously she’s not serious about getting in shape.”

“ Yeah.  She’s been coming here for years and she still looks pretty much the same.”

“ Nobody ever hooks up with her  so it’s not that.”

“She’s so pale. “

“I heard she’s into fat guys!”

 

 It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be them.  I don’t want to change my diet. I don’t want to count calories and worry about food groups. Today I ate an apple. That is the first piece of purely nutritional food I have had in a week. I shit you not. I have had a lot of food in the past week: buffalo chicken fingers, a muffalletta, eggplant parmesan sub, pizza, red curry thai, a bacon egg and cheese, but I have not had one salad. Not one. I don’t want to eat like them.  I do want to eat better. Just not perfectly.

And I do miss tanning.

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

Kids Stuff

 

 

I saw a married friend of mine the other day who told me she loves being married but it takes a lot of work.”Dump him” I said, “  I thought I was being funny. “Kendra, all marriages take work.”

 I couldn’t be less interested in working on a marriage.  I would rather dig ditches.

 I’ve had guys talk to me about getting married. That’s the other thing. I don’t want to sit around and talk about getting married. That’s the guy’s thing. Guys have very few things they are responsible for in the relationship growth. Popping the question is one of them. Don’t talk about it. Do it. Show up with a ring and do your thing.  Take a risk. Then sell me on the idea because I over analyze everything. I could never just be like “yes yes I’ll marry you” and hug and kiss and call people and celebrate.  It would probably be more like

Ballsy Dude: Kendra will you marry me?  ( with ring in hand)

Kendra: Why do you want to marry me?

Ballsy Dude: Because I love you

Kendra : but why?

The “but why” line of questioning is infinite.

 I saw a guy friend of mine the other day who said I looked “great”.  I said “thank you” and we ordered a drink. Five minutes later I had to ask “ so what looks so great about me?”. He had already forgotten he said it. Not me.  I take my compliments very seriously. I can recall a good compliment from three years ago.

He tried to recover from the fact that he forgot he said I looked great. He said I looked skinny and my hair was long but it all sounded hollow. “How long was my hair last time I saw you?” I asked.  Now I was just torturing myself. I knew at this point he didn’t have the complex, detailed analysis of my appearance that I was led to believe he possessed by his use of the word “great”.  Simpleton.  

My married friend thinks I should be looking to get married. “what do you want Kendra?” she always asks me earnestly. “ I want a funny guy with sex appeal who doesn’t want me to mother him.  You know, a friend that I want to have sex with. Good sex. Not obligatory sex.”

 “ That’s like a whatchamayacallit situation. Friends with benefits.”   She’s exasperated.

I don’t understand why she cares. “Yeah. Exactly. Friends with benefits. But monogamous “

“You realize there are 15 year olds having this conversation right now?” she gathers her things.

“ Are you saying I can’t compete with 15 year olds?”

I know she’s done with me but I didn’t want any help to begin with.  Everybody wants different things from relationships. She wants to feel like she works hard and he owes her.  She wants to be able to bitch about “her husband” and have public recognition that she is in a relationship.  She wants to be considered an adult in society.

I don’t care about all that cultural identification with adulthood. I don’t want to guilt anybody into sticking by my side. I like to think it’s fun to be around me. Not like adult fun.  Kids stuff.

 

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fry Larceny

Fry Larceny

It  bugs me when people say can I steal a fry?  Order your own fattening shit. They order a salad so they get public recognition for eating well but then they’re stealing my fries. It’s like the girl who won’t sleep with her boyfriend for 3 months but she’ll go down on a stranger on a random Tuesday.

It’s not fair. Just because there are more fries people think they can just take one and it’s not a big deal but it’s the principle of the thing. They just reach over and take one while they are saying “ can I steal a frie?”. They know you’re not gonna say “ no don’t touch my fuckin fries. They’re mine!” because then you look like a freak. It’s a no win situation. If you order fries, you’re fucked. You’re obliged to share.

It just sucks that something as simple as ordering French fries puts you in a position to be taken advantage of. Indulging in fries should be a fun, stress free experience. How many fries do you get? I don’t know. Let’s say 27. Who is to say I wasn’t looking forward to 27 fries today. Maybe I’m actually disappointed with 27 and I want another order of fries. I’m gonna start counting my fries when they arrive at the table. That way my companion will get a sense there is something about me and my fries. It’s not the normal human to fry relationship. We’ll see how that works. I’ve noticed, a lot of people don’t pick up on my subliminal messages.

It’s like the cold shoulder. Nothing is more maddening than someone who can’t pick up on the fact I am giving them the cold shoulder. I’m being short and despondent and their still like “ what are you doing Thursday? There is this great band playing”  No clue that we are fighting. “yeah I’ll go” Now I’m bound and determined to have them pick up on the fact that I am mad. I’ll ruin the concert. That’s what I’ll do. Treat others as you would like to be treated. I would rather have someone torture me with indifference for 5 days than sit down and talk at length about my character defects. I get defensive and bring up stupid stuff. Like eating my fries.

 

 

Thanks for listening!

Kisses-

Kendra

Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.

www.kendracunningham.com