BLONDE LOGIC

Perfect Diction

 

Tuesday morning I had a gynecologist appointment and spent the whole subway ride thinking about how happy I am that I am not a gynecologist, imagining what their life would be like day in and day out. Boring. More boring than mine. This line of thinking led me to a whole internal dialogue about how hard it is to fund adventure seeking behavior. I did the Coney Island Polar Bear plunge yesterday, that’s one  solution to a poor man’s debilitating boredom.

The receptionist at the Dr.’s office was fanatical about her customer service prowess. Suspiciously fanatical.

I announced myself.

“ Oh Kendra Cunningham right- yes- here you are. Now Kendra, I left you a voicemail. Dr Takamaya had to go to Hawaii for a ( pause) family emergency. Dr. Howard will see you, how do you feel about that? “

I wanted to say “ Bored. I feel bored about that.”  But instead I said “That’s fine” and sat.

The pause in her delivery made me think Dr. Takamaya frequently had obligations that took her to colorful locations. Last month a lecture in Bora Bora, the month before that a research project in the British Virgin Islands, now an emergency in Molokai. Dr. Takamaya – The Bond Girl of Gynos.

Dr. Howard was ready for me. She introduced me to Christine. “ This is Christine. She is a student at Columbia. She’ll be sitting in.”

This was a first for me. “ So she’s training?”

“I guess you could say that”  Dr. Howard said dismissively.

I immediately wondered if they chose me on purpose and, if so, why? Was I a perfect specimen or were they like “ Holy Shit, Kendra Cunningham has an appointment on Tuesday, you gotta come for this one. If you want to see a patient lie about everything- drug and alcohol consumption, smoking, number of sex partners, - everything.  Lies, lies, lies. SHE’LL let you stay in the room. She’ll think it means she’s special or something, can you make it?”

They were right. I didn’t ask any questions. I never even asked for credentials.

Half way through I stumped the trainee. I asked how they give breast exams to people with breast implants. The trainee turned to Dr. Howard who assured us both its possible to get an accurate read on a patient with breast “ augmentation” . She must have said “augmentation” with perfect diction, seven times. It’s amazing how something as simple as perfect diction can sound patronizing and ostentatious.

Then she said “ I hope you’re not thinking about  augmentation. You have great, natural breasts”

Suddenly it sounded savvy and authoritative. The diction thing. “Great” sounds so powerful when you really pronounce that T.

“Thanks” I smiled playing with my paper robe.

Dr. Takamaya never says things like that to me.

A Takamaya Emergency:

 

 

 

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

www.blondelogicblog.com

On The Wagon

 

 

I have to get on the wagon. I’m aiming for a week from today for two weeks. The thing is I’m such a visual person,  it would help if there was an actual physical act I could do to SEE that I am on the wagon instead of just saying it.  Somebody should start an On the Wagon Depot where you go and  climb on a big rickety old wooden  wagon and  then amble around New York on that. Even better, someone  could pull you around on it. Then you could meet other people trying to not drink for a while! It would be more official I think. Everybody could see who was  on the wagon.  And if I was getting around via embarrassing modes of transportation, most likely, my invitations to drinking situations would diminish greatly and quite frankly, I don’t think I’d want to go out too much if I had to always be with the group.   I’ve been talking about not drinking for a few weeks now.  I  started to write a Top Ten Reasons to Go On The Wagon list to convince myself to take action but you don’t really need ten reasons,  I had three off the bat that could have stood on their own as A Really Good Reason to Go On The Wagon.

 

You are unrecognizable in pictures.

1. You see pictures the day after and say “ who the hell is this girl? She looks like she’s crying. Holy shit those are my new boots. That’s me? Was I crying? I look like I have false teeth. False teeth with what? Spinach in them? Was I eating spinach? That’s good, I guess. Holy crap. I gotta go on the wagon”

Flashing moons in public.

1. I haven’t publicly flashed a moon sober since I was ten, maybe twelve. There is a girl I know who flashes her boobs when she gets drunk. I’m always saying “ she’s outta her mind” Last week I saw someone I haven’t seen in about  a year and he said “ remember the night we were dropping you off and you flashed  a moon at your front door?”  In his world I am the girl who gets drunk and drops her pants. Sweet. I gotta go on the wagon.

Busting a move is replaced with interpretational dancing

1. Interpretational dancing is a huge tell. Running around acting out songs while your Stoli and soda is slopping all over your carefully selected party get up, will always draw a few laughs but can also end up in stumbles and head whacks and all sorts of unpartylike behaviors. I went through a phase of acting out “I Try “ by Macy alternating with “ Come to My Window” by Melissa Etheridge.  “ I Try” was much more physical and always left me out of breath and red in the face, panting “ I gotta go on the wagon”

The truth is I should have quit drinking in my twenties when I was in the habit of driving drunk on blown out tires, sometimes with the roof down.

Stay off the sidewalks people!

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

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

www.blondelogicblog.com

 

Memory Lane : Closed to Thru Traffic

 

 My mother in twenty years

My mother likes to do drive bys and reminisce. When she first moved back to Boston a few years ago, every time my sister and I went to visit she’d have a new memory laden location she wanted to cruise to. She liked to drive by the house we grew up in “ Oh look they knocked the garage down- remember you two and the Walwoods put on that play in there? That was great” and the church that we went to “ Girls, look at St. Elizabeths. Alot of memories there- first communions, confirmations, CCD. Confessions~ you girls had a lot to confess to. I’m kidding! The church does look nice though doesn’t it?’

Now that she has been back in Boston for a few years, she has run out of good memories to rehash. Now she likes to try to trigger flashbacks of disgraceful behavior. A few months ago she drove us by one of the parks in Milton where we played softball as kids “ Kendra, do you remember when you struck that girl out that made fun of you for being fat? What did she call you? It was really mean. Whaaaaaat? What? It’s a good memory-- you struck her out! You were the PITCHER. Jeez I can’t say anything”

I contemplate jumping out of a moving vehicle.

The memories get more wretched and shoddy as time goes on.

She took me to a vintage clothing store in Quincy. She raved about this store. “Great designer names, vintage furs, funky stuff- cheap! I don’t think the lady knows what she could get for this stuff but Christ, I’m keeping my mouth shut. You know what this used to be don’t you? Club California. That under 21 dance club you went to when you were 14 and you came home with a hickey? 14 years old with a hickey! I cried. Do you remember I cried? That was here. This sweater looks like you.  ”

Now it’s to the point where we don’t want to get in the car with her. When we do,  she pretends she remembers stories spontaneously as we “happen” to drive by. The unintended drive by. Thursday we drove through Southie on our way to Marshalls, my mother pretended like she couldn’t remember how to get there “ Now, is this the left ?’ 

“No, Mom, that’s the parking lot to the carpet cleaners store - keep going straight” my sister shouts out.

“Oh my, is that a carpet cleaners now? This used to be a D’angelos . Kristen, you know this is where you and Alison got really drunk on St Paddy’s Day when you were 12, remember? You told me you were going to her family’s house. You lied, remember? You lied to me and then  I think you puked on yourself didn’t you? That was here I think. What?? What??  You kids need to learn how to talk about the past. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I haven’t had D’angelos in a dogs age.”

She’s really good at delivering painful information in a whimsical storytelling style. She should start a crime tour company so she could show people the exact location of murders, abductions and betrayals. “ They found his torso right here BUT they didn’t find his head for another mile up the road, right by that gorgeous hibiscus. Wow what a tree. Hibiscus tea- very good for you. So that’s where his head was. Anybody need a bathroom break? I do ’

Happy Birthday Mum!

 

 

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

www.blondelogicblog.com