I overheard some doe-eyed girl talking to her friend about the spring weather "This is the type of weather that makes me want to lie in the park and read."
I thought, "This is the type of weather that makes me want to get behind the wheel with a pack of smokes and drive to a tattoo parlor in Rhode Island."
I'm just not a lay in the park type of girl.
I've tried to be. I've packed a little bag with a book and a blanket and snacks, plenty of snacks, but it never turns out to be the Doris Day extravaganza I envisioned. I get there and I remember I don't like lying on grass. And honestly, laying down is in my top five "things I always like to do not matter what," so for me to abandon an opportunity to do one of my top five favorite things, I'm suffering. Nobody should have to suffer through lying down. I mean it's one of the best positions to be in. That just goes to show you why "laying on things that have grass underneath them' is number one on my list of "things I forget I hate doing".
Anyway, if it's not the grass, I smell shit. I get my whole set up going and I take out my book and I try to find a soft spot in the Earth, and walla! I smell shit. Whether I'm actually sitting on the shit, I don't know but it's close enough for me to smell. The smell of shit is enough to make me leave anyplace no matter how much time I just spent setting up.
The worst is when you sit next to people who clearly love going to the friggin'park. It's not even the weather that brought them there, this is what they do. And they do it well. Always having a better time than the guy on the next blanket with the perfect choice in clothing for the weather, a deliberate combination of food that you would have never thought of, and usually, in love. Or even worse, lust. You want to put on a show about how great your little beach blanket bingo is? Well you just lost yourself an audience member. I'll pack up my shit and leave if I choose a spot next to well put together but, ultimately, uninteresting people.
For the love of God, if I'm forced to overhear your conversation, make it something puzzling.
"Where's the spicy sopressata?"
"Next to the olive oil that I mixed with spices most people haven't heard of"
I won't even finish my snacks before I leave an eavesdropping session that makes me want to interject a joke or two.
Sometimes it's the people who make me not like the park.
But it's usually just the grass.
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.
The Irish Whisper Show