BLONDE LOGIC

You know what your problem is?

   
 

A guy at the bar where I work asked me recently, “You know what your problem is?”

 

The phrasing of the above question intimates that there was some previous admission that I, in fact, actually have a problem. “Hi, I’m Kendra, and I have an unidentified problem. If you have problem identification skills, please do step in, by all means.”

 

The best is that it sounds like a rhetorical question.

 

Unlikable Person:“You know what your problem is?  You got a bad attitude.  That’s your problem. It’s an attitude problem is what it is.”

ME (likable person): “You know what your problem is?  You ask questions and don’t let people answer them. That’s your problem. It’s poor conversational skills is what it is.”

 

But the guy at the bar waited for my answer. I gotta give him that. He didn’t seem to listen to it, but he did allow me to respond.

 

Guy at Bar: “You know what your problem is?”

Me (girl behind the bar): “Which one? Commitment? Control? Dependency?”

Guy at Bar (ignoring my answer): “Your problem is …………”

(This is the part of bartending I hate, when you gotta pretend that someone’s barstool analysis is worthy of a listen.)

 

I know I have issues. I don’t know what they are,  but I have them. All these affirmation and self-help books always suggest you go back to your childhood memories to start a thorough introspection.

 

My biggest memories are of school. I was a fat kid – but not blubbery fat, which I always thought looked like it would be fun to sleep in – my fat was hard. I look perpetually uncomfortable in my childhood pictures. Not only that, but I loved learning about obscure things.  The teacher would say, “OK, everybody,  pick an interesting person in history, and write a three page paper. Be prepared to share with the class next Friday.”

 

My papers were always way too long and sometimes I would write two, in case I decided at the last minute I didn’t like the first one.

 

Friday

Teacher: “Kathy why don’t you read your paper to the class?”

Kathy: “Chocolate Chip cookies were first invented in 1937 by Ruth Graves Wakefield…………. And I brought chocolate chip cookies for everybody!”

(the crowd goes wild)

Billy: “The first recorded baseball contest was in 1846…………………………….. and I have baseball cards for everyone!”

(the chocolate chip cookie sugar high gets higher)

Kendra: “Adolf Hitler was a victim of severe physical abuse throughout his entire childhood. Some historians claim he was also mildly retarded……….”

(I lose the crowd)

Kendra: “…wait – can I switch?  ‘Spontaneous combustion’ is death by incineration, with no identifiable source of ignition. So basically you could die at any moment, for no scientific reason – like right now –”

(I speed through the rest of the 9 page paper skipping sections)

“…um… I don’t have anything to hand out, so I guess that’s it. OH, but I have pictures if anyone wants to see dead people and skulls and stuff. Are there any cookies left?  I suddenly don’t feel fat enough.”

 

I blame my parents. Who lets a little fat girl write papers on death and torture and then read them aloud to her peers.

 

I asked my mother why, and she said, “Oh stop! You were adorable. Half those kids would have never heard of spontaneous combustion if it wasn’t for you.”

 

Kendra Cunningham. Bringing fright and apprehension to a grammar school near you!

 

 

 

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

Simon Says

 

In January I joked with my sister I was gonna get married this year.  It is now June,  and I have not been on ONE date all year.  The last time I went on a date was December 2009 and I had to go to Boston for it.  He bought me two Stoli and sodas and a cheeseburger.  I don’t ask for much, although I did get some fancy bacon on my cheeseburger which was an additional charge of $1. 50.  He didn’t seem to mind.  

 

 

My friend tried to start that whole “Well, what are you looking for in a guy?” conversation.  It’s a double-edged sword when you are single too long, because on the one hand you think to yourself , “I’ve held out this long, I really want to get a good one,” and on the other hand, you’re lonely and  want an immediate fix.  That’s the hand I’m playing right now.  I just want to be attracted to them.  That’s all.  The guy could have a dagger tattoo on his neck, a ‘misogyny rules’ t-shirt, and be flipping through his rapsheet at the bus stop and I would be like, “Great eyes on this guy, don’t ya think?”.

 

I ran into my ex-boyfriend’s friend yesterday.  My ex is engaged to the girl he started going out with after me.  They have been engaged for three years.  I don’t get that.   I don’t even believe in engagements.  I think the guy should set up the whole ceremony like a surprise party.  He pops the question, the girl says yes, and they jump into a vintage car, off to the altar.  That would make getting married so much more fun and exciting .  Lets face it, girls like when guys do things for them – especially things they know the guy doesn’t  want to do, like plan a wedding.  What is the point of getting engaged and then not actually getting married for YEARS?? That’s like saying, “Hey, we made a major decision, but we aren’t gonna act on it for, oh I don’t know, half a decade.” I hate stagnating.  

 

Three years ago I was involved with a cop who carried a gun at all times and went boar hunting.  If you don’t know anything about boar hunting, it’s really friggin’ scary stuff.  Dogs are trained to lockjaw on the boar’s FACE, and then someone (the guy I was involved with) runs up and stabs it numerous times, while the boar is wildly trying to shake the dog from its noggin.  Boars are really fucking ugly.  You gotta be pretty ugly to have grown men running around the swamps of Florida trying to stab you –  but only if a live dog will cover that ugly mug.  There are no attractive boars.  A boar’s dream is to nail a pig.  That would be an upgrade for a boar.   He sent a picture of the  boar stabbing to my phone.  I continued to see him.  My point is: three years ago, I was the type of person who got involved with boar hunters; how do you go from that to nothing?  I think that “alone” means I’m willing to entertain any and all offers. 

 

 

 My next relationship is gonna be one big game of Simon Says. 

And I’m Simon. 

“Simon sayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyysss rub my feet!”

“Simon sayyyyyyyyyyyyssss pour me a glass of wine.”

“Go out with your friends, uh uh uhhhh ! Simon didn’t say! Silly!”

 

 

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

Habitual Affirmations

 


I’ve been doing affirmations lately. I have index cards written up and I just shuffle through the whole stack of them,  reading out loud things like “ I am at ease with all my emotions” “ I am open and receptive for all life has to offer” “ I have loving relationships” “my creativity is always in demand”  That’s only four. I have a whole stack of thirty seven index cards.  You are supposed to do them long enough that it becomes habitual. It’s a form of brainwashing but I feel like it works. Until I have to be around  other people.  It’s always other people who fuck up a perfectly good day.

Pet peeve of the week:

 I can’t stand when other customers rush me at the check out counter.

 Last week I was at CVS, keeping to myself, in sync with the universe, and all that jazz, just as the cashier handed me my change, I’m getting dry humped from behind by some super anxious shopper who just had to get her items onto the counter immediately or her whole reason for living would come under question. She was reaching around my person nearly grazing a nipple,  putting stuff down in front of me, stupid things like scotch tape and no name orange juice and cotton balls. Nothing anybody should be wound like a top to get home to  get at it. I stood outside CVS waiting for her to come out  so I could follow her for a block or two, walking way too close for comfort, and muttering things like “ it was nice to stand so close to you.” “ scotch tape – no name orange juice- cotton balls sounds like you’re in for a fun day” .  Space invasion payback. But I didn’t have the balls. I rationalized as  “ being at ease with all my emotions” and called someone to bitch about it instead of actually dealing with it in real time.

This morning, yes this very morning, someone pulled the same shit on me at Starbucks. No sooner had I reached for my change, I have this guy spooning me to get his coffee order in pronto. This time I purposely took forever to get my change into my gold sequined wallet all the while trying to figure out how I could fling my bag over my shoulder and hit him in the balls with it along the way. I got him  in the chest and  innocently said “oh! Sorry!”.  But I think he knew what I really meant. When I got far enough away to look at him without being confrontational I realized he wasn’t bad looking , which could have made me accept his spooning as advances but he was  one of these people who orders a coffee with seventeen instructions. “ tall extra hot – no fat- soy green tea – steamed milk – no foam – two pump – latte –grande in a  venti cup – three pump hazel – one pump vanilla- ice on the side………….” I could never date someone like that. I get embarrassed for them. Never mind the fact if they are that specific about their coffee, they must be cuckoo in bed, requiring numerous factors to be in place in order to be the best they can be. Forget it.   I accessed an affirmation “ I only attract healthy and loving men into my life” . 

 Sometimes I panic that I am going to start spewing out  self affirming one liners in conversation.

Acquaintance: “ hey Kendra hows it going?”

Me: “Good good. I have the strength and determination to get me to the place I desire to be”

Acquaintance:” uh, that’s cool. Hows your sister? You guys still on Wyckoff?”

Me:” Yup. Still there. My family considers my feelings and respects my privacy”

Acquaintance:” Okkkkkkkk.That’s a good thing. You still doing stand up?”

Me:”yeah yeah. I succeed in making my dreams a physical reality. I am vehement in pursuing my goals and losing body fat is effortless and easy for me.”

 I hope it doesn't surface during pillow talk.

My favorite

( Insert name) is deeply and passionately in love with me, as I am with him.

I stick a bunch of different names in that one. Sometimes I leave off the “ as I am with him” it just feels better.

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Bait and Switch

 

Wikipedia states: a bait and switch is a form of fraud in which the party putting forth the fraud lures in customers by advertising a product or service at an unprofitably low price, then reveals to potential customers that the advertised good is not available but that a substitute is.

I got a voicemail from my friend in Boston “ Call me as soon as you can. I pulled the old bait and switch. Your gonna love this one”  

I am  a big fan of anything involving an attempt at swindling someone because more often than not, the swindle turns into a befuddling string of events that leaves everyone confused and no better off than  they were at the  starting point, which is exactly what happened on one summerish Sunday night in Boston.

Her:    “ So you remember that guy I met at the Sevens? The cute one? We were texting and we hooked up? Remember? “

Me: “Yeah yeah yeah. He works in finance and your friend likes his friend”

Her:    “Yeah. Get this. He stops responding to my texts. Just stops. For no reason. So I text him a few times.”

Me: “ How many?”

Her:    “ A few. I don’t know”

Me: “ More than ten?”

Her:    “No. I don’t think so. No, not more than ten. Maybe five.”

Me: “Five texts with no response is a lot”

Her:    “ Well, some were in the same sitting”

Me: “Ok well still..so is he the bait and switch story?”

Her:    “Yeah so Sunday I go to brunch with a bunch of boring people, I have a couple of drinks and I’m thinking about him. Ya know? I’m like what the hell happened there. So I figure I give it one more shot”

Me: “ Erase his number from your phone right now”

Her:    “ Will you just listen!  I figure I gotta use some strategy here. Some mind games. Maybe the old bait and switch so I text him “ you up for a threesome?” I figure that will spark his attention. Don’t ya know the son of a bitch responds IMMEDIATELY  that he is in. ( laugh laugh laugh) So  I text him to be at my apartment at eight. He shows up early. This is the same person who couldn’t muster up a text response. “

Me: “Shocking”

Her:    “I pretend to get a text from my threesome friend that she can’t make it and he gets a text that he has to do something for work and leaves. I think he made that up. ”

Me: “I hate to tell you but that is not a bait and switch. It is an attempt. I can see where it was going but yeah it didn’t work”

Her: “ Anyway I’m so done with him.”

 

It is hard times when you have to upsell casual sex with the allure of other woman. That’s like saying “hey I’ll get my friend to have sex with you but you have to have sex with me too. C’mon please?”

I do admire her creativity. I brought a guy I think is cute to the bar the other night and the most I could think of to do to show him that I liked him was lean on his chair and get him his beers for free.

Plying a man with alcohol is just a low brow version of her trying- to – get- some –loving scam.

The truth is, it is fun to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 

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

 

 

 

Blatant Harassment

 My mother left me a voicemail on Tuesday and asked, in a very perplexed bordering on suspicious voice, “ Do you know someone by the name of ( dramatic pause) Ginnie Mayhew? This lady is nuts- harassing me on the email. Call me back”

My mother is one of these people that will act tough as nails and maybe even instigate some ill will and then spend hours paralyzed with fear worrying  about the retribution so if she tells you about a fight or how someone “ is nuts” you gotta ask a lot of questions to get the real story.

She’ll say “ That cashier at the corner store  is a real nut. Ya know, the other day she told me I’m not funny.”

Me: “Well, what did you say to her?”

Her: “Nothing!”

Me:” You walked into the store, didn’t say a WORD? And she blurted out “ You’re not funny””

Her: “ Well, I mean, she was ringing me up and I said something about the fact that she didn’t return my “hello” when I approached the counter and she didn’t laugh and I said “it’s a joke “  and she said it wasn’t funny”

Me: “So you gave the fourteen year old Mom -who is most likely clinically depressed - shit for not enjoying her job and she  didn’t  see the humor in it ? Wow - she is a nut. Stay outta there Ma. Shop somewhere else”

Growing up with my mother has made me a great interrogator, much to the chagrin of any  manboy I have ever dated, been curious about, or just plain been  one- sided in love with. I can question things to death.

“Ginnie Mayhew” forwarded my mother an email that she had received from OfficeTeam telling her what to bring to her appointment with them. The items she needed to bring were as follows:

® A hard copy of your resume. 

® The names, titles and phone numbers of a minimum of three professional references. 

® Proper identification

This seemed excessive to Ginnie and she forwarded the email to my mother with a note saying

“This is what is needed to get an interview for a part time or temp job.  I may not go.  Why in God’s name”

Which actually sounds like an email a friend of my mother’s would write.

My mother just sent the email back without writing anything.

Why? She felt “pushed” by this unsolicited email and she “pushed back”.

Ginnie immediately writes back “ What?”

To which my mother responds “ I don’t know you”

And Ginnie comes back with “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

And that’s when I got called in.

This is when the situation became fearful, when Ginnie stopped making sense and ceased using real words. When the defendant, Ms. Mayhew,made ghost noises over email. That – right there-  crosses the line from some weird email from a stranger that is just  annoying enough to cause a 50 something year old woman  to send an  inexplicable response, to blatant harassment. Which is what my mother called it.

“Did you see what she wrote? That is blatant harassment. Who is this woman? She’s a nut. How did she get my email? Why would she forward me that? “

I don’t know Ginnie Mayhew but I have a sneaking suspicion my mother does but she can’t remember how.

I would wager Ginnie Mayhew is telling her friends and family what a nut Carol Cunningham is. “ Can you believe this woman? Saying “ I don’t know you”? Is she out of her mind? “

Ginnie got the last “ OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” but my mother is still imagining some crazed vengeful scenario and sharing it with me.

That’s where I get my catastrophic thinking.

The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.  

 

 

 

 

 
LA, Ready for Game 1? We ahhhhhhhhhhhh Go CELTICS!   

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

Home Surveillance

 

 

1 a.m. – recently   

I called in an order of nachos to go. When I hung up, my friend told me that getting nachos to go is hardcore.  It didn’t bother me. It did bother me that the guy who answered the phone at the diner recognized my voice and asked “ no chicken cutlet today?”

I usually get a chicken cutlet sub but I forget they don’t call it sub and I say” on long bread “ which has become my nickname at the diner. “chicken cutlet long bread lady” I have heard them say.  I am a big fan of nicknames and have always wanted one but not one that involves my food preferences and especially not one with the word “long” in it.

When I went to pick up my nachos, some of the wait staff came over to look at me with jeans and heels on.  Eyeing my nachos sitting on the kitchen window pick up counter, I lied “ I have someone  waiting for me in the car” .

There was no someone and there was no car so when I walked out of the diner I had to pretend to look around for a car that wasn’t there and then make a fake phone call to see where the nonexistent someone had gone and confirm that I should just meet them at home.  All this to trick the innocent diner people into thinking I don’t lie to get my food faster.

When I got home,  I didn’t even sit down to eat. I stood at my kitchen counter and shoveled nachos  into my mouth by hand . I cut my gums on a chip and kept eating. I sucked sour cream off my fingers after every bite. It took me less than ten minutes to down a tin of meat laden nachos.  

The next morning I stepped on a nacho chip on my way to the coffee machine and later, almost slipped on a hunk of sour cream covered ground beef.  

I want to install a home surveillance system  in my apartment. Not to catch intruders, but to observe myself. I think viewing my eating habits on the big screen would  shame me to change.  I looked into home surveillance systems.  I can get a four camera system for less than $300 dollars. I really only need one,  I do most of my eating in bed.  I woke up this morning annoyed I had to get out of bed to get my coffee.

 I laid in bed thinking “if I ever get married, one thing they are going to have to do for me is bring me breakfast in bed.”

I have a whole list of things like that.

I’m gonna bring it on my next date.

It’s been over six months since a man bought me a cheeseburger and two stoli sodas.

 I think I’m due.

 

  

Even Marilyn liked breakfast in bed!

Edible beds .. coming soon 

 

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