Masochist By Choice

I gave up beer for lent. I’m not a practicing Catholic but I am a masochist. I rarely go to church or confession but hey if there’s something that I can participate in for 40 days that’ll fuck up my life and reduce my odds of participating in premarital sex, fuck yeah, I’m a Catholic. Name of the Father, Son, Holy Spirit Amen.  Stoli and soda please.

Two years ago I gave up alcohol altogether and spent 40 lonely days wondering if I had an alcohol dependency issue. Last year I tried and failed. I went to Mexico in March and fell off the wagon pretty hard.  I rationalized it as “God doesn’t  really pay attention to Mexico anyway”  but I waited until I was back in the United States safe and sound before I said it out loud. Those Mexicans will slit your throat. If they can catch ya. Odds are I could’ve outrun the whole staff of The Tides in Zihautanejo but I don’t function well in the heat. If I lived in a consistently hot climate, I wouldn’t move or speak much.  I’d be a woman of few words, mostly commenting  on the weather:  

 “ How hot IS it? ”

“ It’s 63 in Boston”

 “ No humidity? Bullshit” .  

A few years ago I went to Jazz Fest in New Orleans with my sister, Kristen  and two friends ,Monica and Tracie. I went to the University of Miami with Monica and my sister so we had a history of hot weather partying together but we were always near the beach. New Orleans is not near the beach.  I remember asking the locals “ do you know what WIND is?”.  I never appreciated wind so much in my life. I would have settled for a breeze. Last night my sister reminded me what a shitshow I was for the whole trip. I spent at least a hundred dollars on bottled water in the fairground. I would buy three bottles at a time and immediately pour two over my head. I’m not a goodlooking wet haired girl, unless I’m in a bikini then the attention is not really on my almost perfectly round face. I went there thinking I would meet cute guys who were into music and I ended up with a perpetually flushed face, walking around drenched in expensive water, convinced I was seconds away from heat stroke. Nobody else was bothered by the heat.

I was dead weight and I knew it.

 I saw Bonnie Raitt sing two songs and went and sat in a tent by myself, angry and pouting waiting for sundown.  I never went back to the fairgrounds.  The nightlife wasn’t much better. All the bars were super crowded and all the guys were wasted out of their minds. The girls were making plans without  me and just telling me where we were going next instead of including me in the decision making process.

“Hey Kendra,  we are gonna finish these drinks and go to  Pat O’Briens 

 Ok. Can I come?” 

Rio is in the middle of a heat wave. It has not been less than one hundred degrees for the past ten days. I’m fucked. High humidity makes me lethargic and void of personality.  I have visions of the director saying things like “ Kendra, your coming off a little flat on screen. And off for that matter. You want to move around a little bit? “ “ I smell vodka. Have you been drinking? ”  “ you don’t have to say Water after every line of dialogue. We have water right here”

I’m gonna walk around with a parasol and hand fan. If things really get bad, I’ll find some cabana boys to carry me around RIO in a palanquin. *

That’s one of my life long dreams to be carried around in one of those things.

· A palanquin is a covered, human powered wheelless vehicle carried on poles on the shoulders of four or more bearers. For the full visual, I have provided a picture below.


Thanks for listening




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.


This is a palanquin: 


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