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.
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.