BLONDE LOGIC

Smokin da Weed

I smoke marijuana on occasion. Infrequently. So infrequently that I often call it marijuana. My sister makes fun of me, throwing on an English accent while mocking me “Oh did you smoke the marijuana? Well now that you’ve indulged in your mind altering substance perhaps you’ll join me for some scones and jam?”.

The other night a friend convinced me if I smoked pot before bed I wouldn’t have any issues with insomnia. So I tried it. I ended up spending just under two hours talking to the mirror. It started with an impromptu scenario involving telling someone off. And by someone I mean any guy I was ever involved with who turned out to be an imbecile. Take your pick.

It’s never done on one take. I always end up reconsidering my approach to expressing my anger. I typically start off full throttle with an attitude laden “ Oh really? Please! Don’t waste my &^%$%^& time” complete with a hair toss. The next take is the subtle approach. I have to apply lipstick for this one. It requires less spoken word and more body language. I even smoke a cigarette. The goal is to mislead them into thinking you’re not mad anymore by participating in calm conversation and then hitting them with a one liner that confuses and frightens them. It can take a while to get a really good one liner to end it but it’s totally worth it.

I went on to act out a scenario where I was wrongfully accused of a crime. I put my hair up for that and added some jewelry and a cardigan to my get up.  I was ultimately cleared of all charges and my lawyer wished all his clients were so smart, likable, and articulate.  I had a flirtatious exchange with him before I ended that scenario.

A little over an hour had passed and I found myself looking in the mirror with a full face of poorly applied dramatic make up, a sequin wrap tossed around my shoulders, and half a joint on my nightstand. I had just been given an undefined award that made me feel good about myself and required an acceptance speech. I thanked a handful of people and in closing, held up my imaginary award in my right hand and shook it victoriously and said:

“to every guy who ever blew me off or stopped returning my calls or blatantly refused my advances , I just want to say………………. Call me! I’m still available. We can make it work. I’m an award winner now. I’m different. Come over. Let’s talk it out. Tonight!” then Benecio Del Toro dragged me off stage.

I put a towel over the mirror to call it a night.

My friend was right. Smoking weed before bed does cure insomnia. By the time I completed by emotional storylines, washed the make up off my face, I fell fast asleep half way through my bowl of pasta.

 

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

wwww.blondelogicblog.com

Next time, sex shop!

 

"Delivery for Kendra"

 

I recently performed in the Montreal Comedy Festival. There are a lot of sex shops in Montreal. I had no idea it was such a horny city. I wish I had. I certainly would have packed differently.

My mother drove up with a friend to watch my  shows. When she was leaving to head back to Boston she said “Next time I come to Montreal I want to check out those sex shops”

I said “Why didn’t you go while you were here?”

“I didn’t have enough time” she said.

How much time do you need in a sex shop, really? I’ve never been in a sex shop for more than 15 minutes. I don’t feel comfortable being around sex toys and strangers at the same time. Especially a room full of puzzling erotic wontons and overzealous porno buffs.  15 minutes or as soon as someone speaks. Whichever comes first. Once I hear “ Now where would I find……..”   exit stage left.  I’m out.

My mother says “ See ! You would have been rushing me!”

I guess the last thing you want to hear in a sex shop is “C’mon Maaa. Let’s go. I’m hungry. You have  one like that at home. Mum, c’mon, it’s hot in here”.

I never saw a sex toy in real life until I received  a half a dozen of them for my 30^th birthday as gag gifts. I was like “ Ha funny. Now how do I use this thing?” Then I disappeared for two weeks.

There’s no replacement for sex. Unfortunately. I’ve been gorging myself for over a month now and I blame it on sexual frustration.  Unintented celibacy makes me ravenous. I have consumed over 5 pounds of cold cuts this month. Ask my butcher. The last time I was there, I walked through the door and he said “ I don’t have any bologna or mortadella today”.  The guys got deli meat profiling skills.                         

 I said  “Ok no problem. I’ll find something else, I’m sure ”  

 Underlying message:    I’m not leaving yet  Mr.- I’d –rather- sell -a –rump- roast- than –slice- two- pounds- of –a- bologna –variation- for- anybody –even-if you -do -wear -cleavage -shirts.

“Mm what’s this hot capicola all about?”

 “It’s a lot like the spicy salami you got last week”

Ahh. So the cleavage shirts do work. You remember my week old order. I sucked in my belly as it occurred to me that being a butcher is a pretty good job. One where I could spontaneously stop by to check on my man if I felt the need.

“We did get an imported Goose Liverwurst  in”

“Perfect. I haven’t had liverwurst in a while”

We both knew that was a lie.

Scarfing down home made spreads can make you feel something physically but it does nothing for lack of companionship. The other day I was preparing my first sandwich of the day, listening to old school funk. As I deliberated “ Should I add spicy salami to my liverwurst sandwich or roll it up with cheese as a side dish?” a sexy black guy voice comes through the speakers and croons “ Are you lonely?”

And I responded. It doesn’t matter what I said because the fact that I responded says it all.

Hipnotic went on to ask me over 25 times if I was lonely. He also asked if I needed someone to hold on to and if I wanted his mind, body and soul. He claimed he had been scoping me from a distance. Kinda cool.  

I said things like “C’mon stop it! Let me finish my sandwich first” And “Hipnotic! You don’t mean that”.  After a while it was clear he wasn’t listening to anything I said.  Typical dude.

It was my biggest laugh of the day. Forcing a flirtatious exchange on my iPod with a mouthful of perfectly sliced imported Liverwurst. That butcher really is talented.

It’s no surprise Hipnotic hails from Canada. See what those sex shops will do to ya?

Are You Lonely? was released in 1983. It’s still a sexual taunt 28 years later.

Check it out

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEbE9SpTog0

 

This guy owns my butcher shop - Los Paisanos on Smith Street in Brooklyn

Tony Calbretta - one of the funniest guys around

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