Drop us a line or two . . . We open mid-chaos — Queenie's looking out the window at incoming weather and clocking the Belmont Stakes clock ticking down, while TT is recovering from twenty-one (count 'em, twenty-one) unsolicited phone calls from a porch enclosure company after the crime of simply browsing their website. One innocent look at three-season room options, and suddenly her phone is a hostage situation. Queenie sympathizes — she knows the company, they did her mother's enclosure — and confirms: yes, those people are hungry. TT vows never to do that again. From there it's a brief dispatch on Queenie's brother Brian, who's been hospitalized with a nosebleed that became genuinely life-threatening because he's on blood thinners. The dilemma, as Queenie frames it with zero sugarcoating: do you want to die of a heart attack or bleed out? Pick one. His wife's emergency field fix involved a tampon, which bought some time before getting saturated. He's going home with explicit instructions to never blow his nose again. He also looks like Shrek. He has not slept. Everybody is just fine. This slides naturally into the broader theme of everybody around them crumbling simultaneously — friends at doctors multiple times a week for different things, the body not cooperating the way it did at forty, children turning forty themselves (which: how), and the general indignity of midlife maintenance. TT notes to Honey earlier that day that "we all have something going on" and you just have to accept it. Queenie does not love this but cannot argue with it. There's a brief musical interlude celebrating cardiac stents and replacement shoulders, which honestly feels earned. The conversation turns to self-work and therapy — TT wonders aloud whether there are people who just... move on from childhood without any excavation, and Queenie's verdict is swift: those people are freaking crazy. You can usually tell when someone has done the work, she says, often by their vocabulary. This loops into narcissists, which both of them have in their lives, and the grim reality that there's no cure. Options are limited: go dark (no contact) or go grey (cordial, minimal, zero extra effort). The segue to the current political moment is smooth and immediate. Queenie describes the commander in chief as having "normalized" narcissism and brings up the AI-generated Trump-in-cheerleader-short-shorts image circulating online. It's Pride Month, she notes. He may finally be coming out. They laugh. TT reminds them they're laughing all the way to hell. Also: screwworms are back, ocean monitoring equipment is being removed, and there's no oversight of anything anymore. If you see things moving in your food, just ignore it. On the cannabis check-in: TT has had a full ten-milligram Floracal Farms Live Rosin Pink Lemonade sativa gummy (complete gummy, very deliberate), and Queenie has been smoking Banana Punch, a pre-ground indica with very small print on the packaging. Banana as a flavor descriptor is noted to be uncommon. This is deemed worth mentioning. The show's real comedic peak arrives courtesy of Conan O'Brien's podcast. Queenie went down a YouTube rabbit hole after Conan interviewed an intimacy coordinator, which led her to a segment featuring a young man whose company makes thirty-two custom condom sizes and offers a hotline where you can speak to said gentleman if you're unsure which size to order. He claims to be able to tell if callers are being truthful. TT has already seen this. The bit about guidance counselors not recommending "talking about dicks all day" as a career path lands. Queenie's advice: measure twice, not once. You only want to make that mistake one time. They are crying laughing. The news segment covers TSA's updated guidance technically allowing medical marijuana in carry-on and checked bags, with a TSA officer retaining final discretion. Queenie and TT are skeptical — it sounds great until you realize there's no guidance on how much, in what form, or what documentation actually counts as proof. Also: dogs in airports are primarily sniffing for explosives, not drugs, Queenie notes, so don't panic. Bottom line: it's loosey goosey, probably a step in the right direction, and you're still taking a risk. Bring your documentation. Keep original packaging. Maybe don't. TT's Choice (number sixty-six): Would you rather live your life as a reality show or a documentary? TT picks documentary, then has to be walked through what a documentary actually is when she's alive, then sticks with her answer on the grounds that reality shows feel predatory and she wouldn't want to be the subject of one. Queenie's contribution is to narrate TT's life in nature documentary voice — "here we have TT in her natural habitat... notice how she eats a gummy prior to coitus." This evolves into a discussion of rhino mating, specifically the part where the male must remain motionless inside the female for seven minutes without moving or the clock resets. Queenie has recently found this very erotic. She is going to tell Honey. TT's stomach hurts. Queenie names her reality show *Call T*. Done. The F**k It List this week is a serious one: a friend of Queenie's, a woman their age with significant cardiac history, had her blood pressure medication changed and spent weeks feeling terrible, voicing concern at her hospital stay, being dismissed, and only getting the medication switched back when her primary care physician called the cardiologist directly. Within a day, she felt better. The f**k it goes to not giving up, to trusting your own body, and to having your problems minimized by a medical system that still, somewhere in its bones, operates like doctors are gods you stand up for when they enter the room. Queenie's message: advocate for yourself, and if you can't, find someone who can. The healthcare system is fragmented, it will trample you, and you are the only one who lives in your body. They close out with upcoming weeks — TT's visiting her son's art thing, Queenie has a quiet week plus a golf date before an absolutely packed following week including a tour for a potential new employer. Father's Day is next week. Wishes will be extended then. Bye bye. The outro is a song. TT wrote a lament about a zinnia eaten by a rabbit before it could grow. The final lines are: *those little f*****s. Those little f*****s. This was the zinnia of my dreams.* Truly, no notes. 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. Our Closet Disco Queen Pot-Cast deals with legal adult cannabis use and is intended for entertainment purposes only for those 21 and olderVisit our Closet Disco Queen Pot-Cast merch store! 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