BLONDE LOGIC

Sexting

My friend shared a sexting exchange she had with a new flame. She was good. She came up with quick suggestive, sometimes even blatantly dirty, messages. I freeze up when someone sends me a raunchy text message. My responses always come off neutral, like I just received a bit of information I was waiting for. I can receive a garish text and respond something like:

“Right on”

“Sounds good”

“Okey Dokey Smokey”

 I’m worse in person. I don’t even respond verbally. Last night a guy started talking suggestive, not even filthy, just suggestive to me at the bar and I felt like an MLB pitcher  interacting with the catcher- a lot of quick head movements to indicate agreement, leaning in to get a good handle on the situation,  occasionally looking around to see what else is happening, snapping my gum, all the while with no interpretable expression on my face.

Even in bed, I’ve never been much for talking. When I do I always regret it and spend days rehashing the whole stupid “I’m gonna step out of my comfort zone” experience. Plus, I kind of whisper, making it inaudible so a whole clarification conversation ensues, complete with a  guessing component.

Guy: “ What?”

Me:” Nothing”

Guy:” Kendra, c’mon what did you say?”

Me:” No it’s stupid. Let’s just, you know, carry on here”

Guy:”did you say  &%$**%@!?”

Me:”God no! ”

Guy:” you said $#@*&*%, didn’t you?”

Me:” I’m leaving”

Guy:”Ok just let me  &^%$##&**^%” 

Me:” Sounds good”

 

I'm gonna hang a "Quiet"  sign on my bedroom door.

 

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

Gift Altar

My birthday is this week. Every year I panic about all the things I didn’t do and try to get them done before my birthday. I start with the simple things like returning clothes that didn’t  fit me. I put this off a lot. I like to wait until I have a few things to return, then it’s like getting a big pay check.  My bartending paychecks are embarrassingly small.

Last year I was in an improv class and there was a boxer in the class. Yes, a real live boxer, way too sexy to be in an improv class. At least with me. The class was an educational and monetary loss for me. I couldn’t relax with him in the room. Then  on the second to last  night  of class, my paycheck fell out of my notebook and landed at his feet. “Whats this?” he said as he picked it up. ” Oh give it. That’s my paycheck” I said panicking that I almost lost thirty four dollars and seventy eight cents.

“ $34.78? That’s your paycheck? ” he laughed. He looked REALLY good when he laughed. I, on the other hand, looked like I had just completed a 50 yard dash. Red, sweating, labored breathing with a  “ I really need 35 dollars” look  on my face. He gave me the check back and then proceeded to repetitively ask me if I needed money for a metro card. He offered me 12 cents to make it an even 35 bucks. Things like that. He knew I wouldn’t fight back.  Meanie!

I did return two items this week. I never try anything on before I buy which is a problem. Sometimes I buy things that are clearly marked a size or two too small, just hoping they will fit. Who cares right? The cashier, that’s who. You have no idea how many times they stick their nose in my business. I hand them a fun beaded top, size 6…

Daffy’s Employee: “ This is so cute! Who is this for?’

Me:“Me”

Daffy’s Employee: “ You know it’s a size six, right?”

Me: “You know you’re a cash register operator, right?”

My clothes delusion is far more pleasing than her job reality will ever be.

 

My mother keeps bugging me “ Soooo what do you want for your birthday? Will you send me a list?”

I finally sat down and made a list.

It was more like a wedding registry than a birthday list.

Item number one: Gift Altar. That's a necessity.

 

Honestly, if I could only get one gift, I would ask for a reasonable exit strategy from the business of stand up comedy. I feel like I woke up in the middle of a three year relationship gone sour and I don’t know how to disentangle myself.  I wanna fake my own death to get out. Reinvent myself as a brunette.

People would be like : “ That woman who moved in down the hall, she seems skittish and uncomfortable with her hair. You think she is in witness protection or something?"

"No way. Not with a gift altar like that"

 

 

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

Trash Pickin'

I’m reading yet another self help book.  I wasn't trash picking but...I found it next to my neighbor’s trash barrel.   I say  “neighbor”  when in fact the person simply lives on my street. I wouldn’t know them unless they struck up a conversation about how they watched me hesitantly checking out their “we consider this trash but you might not” sidewalk book display and then decisively snatching the only self help book offered.  No reading for fun!  Must be working towards something at all times!

  

I get that from my father. He was one of those fathers who thought children should always be doing something productive and achievement oriented.  No playtime. He was more like a crazed coach than a Dad. When I was a kid and I had to spend a Saturday with him, he would have me up at 6 am doing military sprints, wrapped in trash bags because he didn’t want to spend money on the trendy Everlast Sauna Suits made to make you sweat more, swilling raw eggs. I’d go home and hide in my room wondering if I was secretly being punished. The minute I thought I was safe, he’d be screaming for me.

“Kendra, get down here and read the dictionary”

“Right after I finish making these license plates, Dad!”

 

All the self help books say girls end up marrying guys like their father, that is exactly why I never got married. That …and nobody ever asked, but mostly that.

 

Maybe I should marry a guy like my father. Our relationship would consist of two phone calls a year, my birthday and Christmas.  I could write my own book. I’d be the Zsa Zsa Gabor of self help books.  

 “ Kendra, how do you make a marriage work on two phone calls a year?”

“ It’s simple, dahhhhhhling…. I don’t RETURN the calls”

 
 “How many husbands have I had?  You mean apart from my own? “

Zsa Zsa Gabor

 

 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