Table 12

Episode 4 of Cannabis Culture Meets Southampton

“They forgot to massage my kale!”Marjorie Shulman frowned as she pushed the contents of her plate from side to side with her fork.

“I can’t eat this.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath , pressed her index finger to her thumb; a coping mechanism one of her life coaches had given her for when things got tough…like kale.

The situation was dire. Marjorie gained two and a half pounds over the weekend and her second facelift was scheduled in a week. She preferred to be a good ten pounds under weight to maximize her result.

To counter this unprecedented weight gain, Marjorie did what any exercise bulimic would do, and signed up for three back to back fitness classes a day for the next seven days. After attending Barry’s Bootcamp followed by Soul Cycle, and a hot Tracy Anderson, Marjorie was as hungry as a Haitian immigrant in Springfield Ohio.

“Yoohoo, waitress!” She raised her hand, signaling the server across the room.

“How can I help you dear?” Didi had been waiting tables at Shippy’s Pumpernickel for roughly a half a century.

“The chef forgot to massage my kale.” She pushed her salad toward the center of the table with a pout.

“Can I bring you something else? We have a delicious chef salad.” Didi offered patiently.

“Chef salad? What is this, the 70’s?” Marjorie sniffed.

“People love the Cobb salad.” Didi persevered.

“Cheese, eggs. bacon…death by salad. Can you just take the salad back and ask the chef to massage the kale for me? Here, take it.” She whined.

“She wants what?” The chef looked up from the grill. Giant beads of sweat clinging to his forehead.

“The lady at table twelve wants her kale massaged.”

“Gimme that plate!” He snatched the plate from Didi’s hand. “I’m gonna massage her friggin’ kale between my ass cheeks. How do ya like dem apples?”

“She didn’t

say anything about adding apples.” Didi said casually before exiting the kitchen through the swinging double doors and walking toward the offending table.

“Your Kale should be ready shortly. The chef is massaging it personally. Didi informed Marjorie on her way to take an order from a nearby table.

“I think I changed my mind.I’ll have the Cobb salad, minus the bacon, minus the egg, and minus the bleu cheese. Tell the chef that I only want the chicken if it’s organic. None of those food service chicken breasts that have brown grill marks pained on. Hold the dressing. Just red wine vinegar on the side.”

“Sure thing.One order of lettuce and vinegar coming up.” Didi stuffed the stubby golf pencil behind her ear and walked toward the kitchen.

“On second thought,” Marjorie called after Didi. “Vinegar has sulfites.”

“Got it. So just the lettuce.” Didi walked away.

“Can you just relax?” Barbara Moukatel had been quietly observing her friend’s interaction with a dropped jaw. She threw her head back and drained the last of her Chardonnay. “You were almost in tears because they forgot to massage your fucking kale!”

“Was not!”

“Were too!” Barbara had seen this behavior before.

“I’m just so stressed lately. Marty and I haven’t had sex in ages. It’s been so long that I’m thinking about making a funeral for my vagina.”

“Fabulous! Maybe you’ll meet a nice STRAIGHT guy at the shiva.” Barbara needed more wine.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this but between his Mapplethorpe collection and his Martha Stewart cookbooks.”

“So.”

“So what’s with the quartz obelisks all over the place?”

“Nothing. He likes the shape.”

“Aaaand that shape is…?”

“At least my husband doesn’t look like Porky Pig.I honestly don’t know how you stand it. Is it me, or is he sweating all the time?”

“It’s called hyperhidrosis. He can’t help it. But I’m not the one complaining about not having sex.”

“Wait, you guys actually have sex? How? It looks like the only way Izzy could find a clit is if it was on top of a chicken parmigiana.”

Barbara held her empty glass up in the air so Didi could see that she was ready for another.

“You know what I think you need?” Barbara’s eyes widened as her idea struck.

“Do tell.” Marjorie’s face soured.

“You need a good session with Longhorn. You’ll feel so good afterward that you won’t know what hit you.”

“Is the Longhorn quieter than the Gonkulator? Cause my Gonkulator sounds like it could power a bouncy house. Who can fantasize with all that racket?”

“Silly girl. Longhorn isn’t a vibrator, he’s a personal trainer. He’s a great guy. Lives on the reservation.”

“I have no problem exercising. I just need a good stretch.”

“Trust me, Longhorn’ll stretch you like a buffalo hide.” Barbara winked as she took a gulp of her second glass of wine.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Hey, what are you doing after lunch?A bunch of us girls are going in on a present for Samantha.”

“Just get her a gift certificate for a couple of mani -pedis. She wears those Birkenstocks with those yellow toenails of hers.This is Southampton… Not Vermont for goodness’ sake.” Marjorie snipped.

“You’re mean.” Barbara’s eyes narrowed.

“I guess that makes two of us.”

“Besides, when was the last time you stepped foot in the state of Vermont?”

“Like thirty years ago. Hated it.I bought the cheddar bath bomb from one of those ridiculous general stores they have all over the place. It made the water orange and it smelled like cheese. The only thing I liked about Vermont was that it was super green.”

“Speaking of green, I need to get over to the dispensary. Check this out…I asked my genius husband to bring me home some gummies the other day. I specifically stated that I wanted any flavor except watermelon, or sour apple. What do you think he brought me?” Barbara reached into her handbag and pulled out the two bags of candy.

“It’s not a department store. It’s a dispensary. I don’t think they take returns or exchanges.”

“It won’t be an issue. Izzy is a VIP. Wait’ll you get a load of this place.It’s like the Barneys of dispensaries! Izzy is helping them out with their merchandising. He designed a new logo for their t-shirts; M.A.O.A.”

“What does M.A.O.A. stand for?” Marjorie asked. Her mouth full of lettuce.

“Make. America. Ours. Again. Catchy right?”

“I guess so. I’m not handing over my beach house anytime soon though.”

“He’s also working on branding for a new restaurant for them.”

“What kind of food?”

“Not too sure about the food yet, but he came up with a catchy name.”

“What’s that?

“Reservations Only” Barbara announced, very pleased with herself. By the way, great call on the mani-pedis . She has so much money… you’d think she’d fix those “Frodo” feet of hers. I’ll get on online. I’m not knocking myself out looking for a present. I don’t even like her.”

“Speak of the devil. Look who just walked in!” Marjorie said under her breath.

“And she’s wearing her BIRK-EN-STOCKS!”

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