Sorry Seems to Be The Hardest Word (to stop saying)

We open mid-life, mid-rain, mid-chaos — and fully on brand. Queenie's kicking things off fresh off a family reunion that somehow pulled together around 60 people under a pavilion while the weather did its worst. The rain, she reports, was actually a blessing — it corralled everyone together and made for a genuinely lovely day. Her mom, the family matriarch, had someone at her side every minute. Seven hours on poured concrete. Sixty people. Special-edition 250th anniversary rubber ducks wearing Uncle Sam hats and Mardi Gras beads. Trivia questions. Revolutionary War research that Queenie will readily admit her procrastination kept from being as thorough as intended. The ducks, she assures everyone, will be collector's items. Future generations will hold them up and say, "Look at this relic from when the Republic still stood." The physical toll of the reunion caught up with Queenie overnight — leg cramps, dehydration, chanting through the pain — which leads, naturally, into a colonoscopy update. Because of course it does. The prep, she confirms, is indeed a blast. Moving on. TT, meanwhile, is already feeling the effects of the big-ass bag of gummies — yes, that big-ass bag, the one they apparently weren't sure would still have any potency. It does. Potency plus. Queenie's working her way through a Hepworth Citrus Slurp — a teeny-weeny 0.35g pre-rolled dog walker, sun grown, naturally terpene rich, and delivering a clean sativa energy. The fly in the room, apparently, got the memo and departed when the fly swatter appeared, which sends them into a genuinely delightful detour about whether ants retrieve their dead, mourn their dead, or potentially require DNA evidence before accepting that a fallen comrade is really gone. Alexa is consulted. Designated undertaker workers, she reports, sense a death pheromone and remove corpses from the colony. They're just being tidy. The ants. Just being tidy. From ant funerals, Queenie pivots to a rant about the total myth of the paperless digital revolution, which she has been living in real time while navigating bureaucratic systems with assignees. Motor vehicles. Government agencies. Bank accounts. Not one transaction in twenty goes smoothly. You always need a paper backup for the digital. You always need to wait. You get called, miss your number, get called again out of sequence, haven't had a chance to fill out a single form yet because you were pulled to get your photo taken first. The receipt multiplies. The paperwork multiplies. The fax machines are still running somewhere in a government building. It is, Queenie concludes, organized crime. You do not exist until they tell you you exist, and they decide the terms. A little raw around the edges, she admits. A concentrated few weeks. Then it's time for Wait, What — and this week's entry is genuinely warm. Queenie shares the story of a British author who, on the occasion of turning 60, invited sixty people — strangers, acquaintances, old friends, her own children — to sit down and share a cup of tea with her. Part curiosity project, part antidote to the creeping shyness that snuck up on her in her later years. She kept a blog. She opened each conversation with a few consistent questions. She found that intentional listening — actually just listening, not advising — meant her kids opened up to her in ways they hadn't before. Intimate moments. Real connection. New friendships. New ideas. Queenie loves it. TT loves it. They wonder if they could do it. TT suspects she'd enjoy it enormously but is fuzzy on the mechanics of execution. They agree the format is flexible — tea, cookies, a brownie, a gummy, whatever. The key, Queenie says, is making it intentional. The conversation wanders into the current political moment, which is everywhere and unavoidable, and Queenie reflects that at the family reunion, even with all the patriotic ducks and anniversary fanfare, the prevailing mood around current events was more forlorn than defensive. Nobody was flying any flags for the other team. She notes they grew up watching their parents' generation of siblings never conflict — and they're just modeling that behavior. You hold onto the shared history. Cousin Sharon gets a moment: the only family member to have served in an active war zone. The men were never that closely involved in any conflict. That lands quietly. TT's Choice serves up number 49: would you rather have a podcast guest who is absolutely fascinating but hates you, or who loves you but has nothing interesting to say? Both hosts go immediately for fascinating-and-hostile. The reasoning: it's better for the audience. And honestly, better for them. TT admits she can make small talk for about a minute before the panic sets in. A minute, she clarifies, is a genuinely long time when you're flapping in the wind. They'd try charm and wit to win the hostile guest over. They'd feign a dropped connection if things got dire. They'd exit gracefully. They debate whether actively seeking someone who hates you is ethically sound podcasting practice or just fishing for drama. TT starts to say something, stops herself, and refuses to share it on air. This has apparently never happened before. Queenie is mildly unsettled. The Fuck It List this week: Queenie is retiring her compulsive apologies on the pickleball court. Her class was cancelled due to Canadian wildfire smoke — the air quality has been in the red-to-dangerous range, and there are days the sky goes visibly yellow. She and TT go deep on the state of the planet: El Niño, prescribed burns, the pine bush outside Albany that has to burn to bloom, the Karner blue butterfly, fires mapped across the entire globe on Weather Underground looking like the world is literally ablaze. Japan. China. Sandstorms from the desert traveling across continents. Canada. Pittsburgh. It's a lot. Back to the fuck it: TT has been apologizing reflexively on the pickleball court every time she misses a shot — and so has her partner. They both caught themselves doing it and looked at each other. They agreed: stop. Nobody's playing for money. Nobody's walking off a cliff. TT reflects that she's not used to team sports, doesn't love the pressure, feels responsible for the group, and carries the anxiety of visible positions — goalies, pitchers, catchers, all the people in the hot spots. Queenie points out that women apologize constantly for things outside their control. Bumping into someone. Missing a shot. Existing. The episode closes on that note — and on a song: a full musical number about the reflexive female apology. Apologizing to chairs. To waiters who brought the wrong plate. To the doctor for making you wait. To the stranger who stepped on your shoe. Every woman in the room nodded. They've been sorry since the age of eight. Queenie and TT sign off warmly. Then, in true CDQ fashion, the mics keep rolling while they attempt to figure out live streaming, test whether Queenie's black t-shirt creates a floating-head effect on camera (it kind of does), reference The Wizard of Oz, and confirm that they are, in fact, quite possibly one of a kind.

Welcome to the Closet Disco Queen Pot-Cast, a #1 ranked Women in Cannabis (Feedspot, Million Pods; 2025) comedy podcast with music and pop culture references that keeps you laughing and engaged. Join our hosts, Queenie & TT as they share humorous anecdotes about daily life, offering women's perspectives on lifestyle and wellness. We dive into funny cannabis conversations and stories, creating an entertaining space where nothing is off-limits. Each episode features entertaining discussions on pop culture trends, as we discuss music, culture, and cannabis in a light-hearted and inclusive manner. Tune in for a delightful blend of humor, insight, and relatable stories that celebrate life's quirks and pleasures.
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