Flashing: A Gender Stratified and Male Dominated Artform/Crime



I was reminded of my childhood today when my little brother put on my dad's creepy khaki trench coat. Interestingly, Flasher was the first thing to come to mind. When I was in Jr High at Alice Deal JHS, we were fortunate enough to have suffered a hilarious phenomena. There was a flasher lurking in the bushes nearby waiting till school's end each day to expose himself to unexpecting passersby (the flasher was also caught eating berries from the trees planted in front of the school, and I once saw him at a pta meeting). I recieved several serious pamphlets and brochures to take home to my parents concerning the flasher that was haunting the school pathway, and what to do if your child had been exposed to his genetalia. I thought this was funny when I was the 7th grade. And I think it's funny now..in the 16th grade. the humor is undeniable...Flasher- exhibitionist: someone with a compulsive desire to expose the genitals...My issues are not with the flashing itself (I think its great). My gripe with flashing lies in that it is a male dominated occupation. I wonder why there are so few females with the compulsive desire to expose the genitals. Is it because people wouldn't really be that offended? If i flashed my breasts to unsuspecting 7th graders, I'm sure they would be startled initially (especially if I screamed "how do you like THIS?!" mid-flash)... but I don't think it would be soo terrible that the parents and school would have sent home brochures and alerted the counselors. Flashing a vag isn't all that terrifying or fantastic either (unless the public hair were cornrowed or died green..that'd at least be creative). Penises are just so amazingly external and dangly. They're spooky and mysterious. Like a cloaked gargoyle.

ALSO, people see breasts on TV all the time. There's no mystery or wonder! There is soft porn on almost every channel after 2am, and if not on the actual program, then the very tasteful EXTENDZ penis enlarging commercial (woman: ever since he started using extendz *giggles*, I decided not to stop sexing his brother so often. thanks extendz *smiles*). I think this is a fucking crime. Lady goods are so overexposed that we can't even flash anyone and get a real scream! People are desensitized to the female form, which can sometimes be quite frightening. And rightfully so. But noooo penises are always a shocker. Mystifying scary penises. UNFAIR.

I also think its unfair that the only women that would get screams for flashing would be overweight. If Barbara Dean (from the Food Channel) or Star Jones (then and now) woke up one day with a pressing urge to expose their genetalia, their cascading mammories might get screams. But people would be more upset later than traumatized. (I do recall a homeless woman on Georgia Ave. lifting her loin flap to be and being very bothered by it.) But it just isnt fair. In a perfect world, I could walk to the nearest train station (with my trench coat of course), saunter up to an unsuspecting couple, and open my jacket to them. In a perfect world they would yell and run. But in this stupid unfair world, no one would care. They would just yawn, check the time and have me chased by the metro police. I'm pretty fast in my reboks though, so the chase might be really good.

I encourage everyone to take a really good look at this injustice. Thinking about flashing has me ready to lace up my reboks, grab the trench and head to a museum (I know its sick but somehow I think that when kids are flashed its funnier).

sugar and spice and e.v.o.o.

I feel like the legs of an elderly paraplegic man. Lame...and squishy. And its not like I don't have shit to do (I have an entire thesis to write)...Its just that nothing really really excites me anymore. Nothing gives me that thrill in my pants. (And things used to really excite me...**watches butterfly float away like egg from zoloft commercial, then wobbles away**)

I think getting bad news is like ramming a sledgehammer into your excitement bone. My excitement bone is broken and i have a cast on...its humiliating wearing a cast when your excitement bone gets broken, because the excitement bone is so close to your pubic bone, it looks like your wearing a paper mache diaper. And no one will date you when you have a diaper cast on because people will think you're an asshole..in a diaper cast.


Any who...I have been pondering what would make me excited again so that my life will stop feeling like a hairy useless leg. Again, I will suspend my imagination because mortal human earthy life is so restricting...like kanye's i'm so gay (but i'll never tellllllll) pants.

example...







anyway, Here goes:

Things that would spice up my bland bland white people food life

1. Chasing after the mailman while barking with toothpaste frothing from the edges of my mouth
2. Knocking door to door dancing for small donations to save the "last village of black gypsies"..dressed in a Walmart Jasmine (from Aladin) costume and my '99 new balances.
3. Setting off on a voyage to the underworld to collect my baby teeth back from the tooth fairy. (Yes, the toothfairy lives in the underworld because she is a lying sneaky thief. And its sick that she steals baby teeth..and makes jewelry out of it. How far is that from the Chainsaw Massacre mutant stealing peoples' faces and wearing them around? Not far, I say..not far enough)
4. Forging a ring of power from the smoldering lava of Mordor
5. Watching a toothless man gum someone angrily and with all his might
6. Smacking Rachel Ray in the face with a hot greasy herb-crusted chicken breast. (She's so fucking smiley all the got damn time with her unnecessarily gay acronyms (Add some E.V.OO!! vomit)).
7. Having a hot steamy awkward affair with Cedric Yarbrough.

I have to stop the list right now to properly express how much I love Cedric Yarbrough. For those that are lame, Cedric Yarbrough is the fine black guy from Reno 911. I know I sound creepy and weird but I don't care. I hear Alecia Keys "You don't know my name" in my head every time I watch Reno...Sometimes at night I pretend that we're on the phone saying sweet things to each other. (totally kidding.....) His humor makes my panties shimmy with glee.



DAMN DAMN DAMNIT ALL TO HADES!! I just found out he has a woman and she looks to be of caucasian persuasion. what the fuck (we will definitely have this talk later)

I want to erase what I wrote about loving him, but I'll keep it up cause I'm the bigger person.

Also: I am a big fan of the sexy affair..(would you like to make sexy time with me?)...but I have also seen it go horribly horribly awry. Good sex is wonderful...Great sex can land you in worlds of trouble. That shit will have you twitchin' and feindin like a fuckn basehead before you can say methlab. Your family will have to hide the electronics from you and feed you through the slit under the door to your room...and no matter who you are..it is not a good look. Beware.

I know Im supposed to be continuing my list, but I need to block normal programming in order to offer you the conversation I had with my older brother today...

Problem at hand: Black Women being "too independent for normal relationships" ?

Are some Black women too independent to maintain healthy relationships? I approached this question very carefully because as a black woman, I am painfully aware that there are many many types of black women (short, thick, sweet, psychotic (lets be honest)). After much thought, I answered the question, yes. There are some. I think that black women are socialized in different ways, some of us are socialized to rely almost entirely on a man and that man's wealth and status. There are mothers who tell their little brown girls to go out and find a rich man that will take care of you...love is a perk. On the contrary, some of us to taught never to rely on a man becaue he will always neglect us. Life has taught too many black women that the only one they can rely on is themselves. Our men are many times unable to love us properly (due to a range of other things i'll talk about later) and/or unavailable to our needs (also because of a lot of historical damage). Being left and neglected (or watching your mother be left and neglected) is enough to make a pact to do for self. The problem arises when a man that wants to do for that woman comes along. It is extremely difficult to break down barriers that you have spent a lifetime building brick by brick, tear by tear, restraining order by restraining order. When my heart is broken, I tend to turn inward and work on myself because thats the only thing positive I can think to do (stalking, slitting tires, and leaving consecutive messages are not really my thing)...I develop my independence. That's how we cope sometimes. Because what we learn while dating is-relying on him will probably get you hurt. I think that if we don't know how to take down the walls some for a good man though, we will be crushed under a pile of Zane novels, running through a maze of self fulfilling prophecies or soaking in a sad green-with-algae pool of loneliness. All of the above suck ass.

I know that no-one can "asshole-proof" their love lives...but if I could, I would. I would spackle, shrink wrap, cement, shelaq, plaster, nail, and jettison all the assholes out of my life for ever and ever amen..But unfortunately I can't. And I guess that's fine with me..because loving the way I have has built me (awesome brick by awesome brick) into the woman I am now.

Now all I need is a little spice and some e.v.o.o...

I hate rachel ray (whose name doesn't deserve to be in caps)

psst.....

Does Anyone Else think this is funny?

My Girl's got a Boyfriend

Sometimes my life reminds me of the zoloft anti-depression medication commercials starring the "sad egg". [There has been extensive debate concerning the nature and species of this "egg". It most reminds me of an egg. But some people are dumb enough to think that it is a ball of dough or something gay like that. Do balls of dough have feelings? Probably not. Eggs, however, are technically babies and can have feelings..and could even be depressed. Maybe it is a lone testical...that could be believable. Because two testicles= awesome...one testicle=sad and or funny] Commercial::"Are you sad?" * Egg nods yes with frown* "Things that used to make you happy just don't matter anymore?" *Egg nods yes.. gazes lovingly at a butterfly (that used to make it happy)...then sighs and wobbles away*:: Every time I see that commercial, I feel so bad about that egg. What is wrong with it? Does it have a broken heart? Does it owe loan shark eggs? Does it have aids? Did it get aids from a slut egg that broke its heart? What could possibly be making this egg so sad??

I am not as sad as the egg. I think the word for this feeling is... discouraged. DIS-COURAGE-D. My courage has been dissed (that was lame i know). Slapped in the face with the big cock of life. Mollywhopped if you will (look it up). Date-raped by Jack Nicholson....(What does a date-rapist look like? Jack Nicholson.)


Aside::: One of my best friend's new boyfriend and I are trying to be friendly..after all we are sharing the same girl. (I love my best friend. She humps my leg violently for fun and loves to sing popular songs in Old English vernacular: i.e. "Wilst Thou Allow me to Beat Beat Beat..?" She is the absolute greatest.) I don't know her new boyfriend yet, but they seem to be falling in love (or some degree of it) and I am trying to get to know him. To be quite honest, Im not always good with fostering hearty relationships with my friends' boy/girlfriends for a few reasons..
1. I don't like when my friends are lame and want to tack me on to the relationship because i'm single. Third wheels are the gayest of all the wheels.
2. I dont like being forced into liking someone. I'd rather chill..meet them when I meet them and like them if i like them. The pressure makes me awkward.
3. When boyfriends and girlfriends call me for advice about my friends i get put in the middle of a relationship of which I am not a part. I feel like being the one pickle on a chick fil-a sandwich..(why do they even bother putting those lonely pickles on the sandwiches..they should stop.)

So..anyway...my best friend's new boyfriend and I have been talking some. (I think my friend really cares what I think about him because theyre getting serious. Plus I am like her tumor (not cancerous of course..but complete with hair and teeth and a personality). I think that he is a very nice young man...but i fear our humors are on different ends of the spectrum. He is perky and optimistic..but in a way that forces me to be sarcastic and pseudo-mean in my jokes. Of course it is completely not personal..if any random person ended a conversation with me with "Hakuna Matata" it is my visceral reaction to laugh and call them gay. Problem: I want us to be cool. But I don't want to hide who I am. I'll find a happy medium. Today, he messaged me, and we had a very interesting convo. The thread goes as follows:

Dude: Ah Ha! Anoa has a bf. Strange pic
(referring to my facebook picture)

Me: thats not my boyfriend, hes one of my friends gay friends. i like the pic. how r u Mr. ______?

Dude: Ahh, I'm well. Anoa, do you have baby teeth?

Me: ...If you're asking whether i still have the teeth i had when i was a kid. no. are you serious?

Dude: an expression did your teeth develop a bit smaller than normal. noticed and asked.

Me: who starts a conversation like that? "do you have small teeth?" are you serious?

Me: my teeth are small. thank you for noticing them.

I love my friend and I trust her choices....I would like to show, however, what my responses would have been if I didn't care what him or my friend wanted or thought..

Dude: Ah Ha! Anoa has a bf. Strange pic
(referring to my facebook picture)

Me: No the guy in the pic is my friend's ex-gay. how r u?

Dude: Ahh, I'm well. Anoa, do you have baby teeth?

Me: I lost my baby teeth like every other human since the dawn of man..Do you have a baby penis?

Dude: an expression did your teeth develop a bit smaller than normal. noticed and asked.

Me: hmm thats funny. I noticed you look gay in your pic. Have you told your parents yet? I hear thats the hardest part.

Ok..i know I look like an asshole right now. But imagine meeting someone and the first thing they ask you is whether you have baby teeth. I will admit. I laughed first, and thought..this is either really lame or comic GENIUS. (I seriously doubt the latter...but i could be wrong. I hope i'm wrong.) Just to spite my friend, I am going to coerce my next boyfriend to say something strange and obscure when he meets her.

My friend: Hey! How are you! I'm ______!

My boyfriend: Your neck smells like celery seed.

So I will be actively trying to be a better person. Because I want to know who my friend is boning. End of Aside::::

Alright, so I had another PostSecret revelation the other day.. I happened upon this little ditty....



Alright guys. I stopped at this post secret because I feel like this situation happened to me. (I know i said i hate post secret but we're trying to make it work through the rough spots and crazy stupid weird secrets that sometimes come up) What logic goes behind this? So..basically, Castro, you're telling me that you like me too much to like me. That makes tons of sense. I understand that some people aren't ready to be with good people...But why not try and work through your problems with someone that loves you? Idk. Maybe i'm crazy, but when something good comes along, I don't pass it up cause i can't get over myself. I know that it might not be a bitch up...even though it looks, tastes and smells like one. Its also absolutely possible that this didn't happen to me though. Maybe someone better came along. And if so, I hope they get the herps.

I think that some people convince themselves that they are bad people and crazies so that they don't hold any responsibility to themselves or anyone else. Have you ever tried to rely on someone that you knew was truly crazy? No. (And if you did, it probably turned out really bad and made you not do it again) Its like..

You: hey, I needed ________ to help me and she promised, but never showed up.
Friend: eh..she's crazy
You: true.

end of conversation.

If i told people i was crazy, I could do anything I wanted to do. Its freedom. I wouldn't have to answer to anyone. And I wouldn't have to be anywhere I didn't wanna be....because i've convinced myself I'm crazy, and therefore do not have to act rationally. And if everyone thinks im crazy too, then they won't ask me for shit. Sweet. This, however, would probably make me a very sad, lonely person because at the end of the day, our relationships are all we have, and to build healthy relationships we need to get the fuck over ourselves and try.

I've gargled enough words for the day. time to rinse.

The word Gay As I see it

I want people to not be offended by my use of the word "gay" within this blog. It is purely for comedic and literary purpose. It is in no way, shape or form meant to degrade homosexuals or homosexuality itself. Don't be sensitive, gays. its all love.

-Anoa

Personal Rain Clouds and Asshole Talking Dogs

I wish people made "how to" books for shit you actually need. Like "How to tell your parents that you're changing your sex" or "How to tell your child his dad isn't his dad"..you know..practical stuff. Instead they try and unlock the secret mysteries of life...which is great and all, but i need help with the smaller things before i can tackle the hidden mysteries of life. I would like to buy a book on "how to deal with disappointment" and have it all in laymen simple language. It would piss me off the buy this book, then open it to find that it tells me to "ohm" myself happy, or envision success or some gay crap like that.

I consider myself a pretty positive person. I enjoy cupcakes and flowers. I give people rides. Love. Money when i'm not too poor. But everything i have attempted to do recently has fallen through and I have no idea why. It is extremely frustrating and horrendously gay that this is happening. I don't want to make it just about me...but this shit does not happen to everyone. I wish i had a small guru in my pocket to tell me that everything would be ok..and know it was true..because he sees the future. When my family or friends tell me everything will be ok...its nice and all, but i know they don't know that. Are they really credible sources? A guru i could actually believe.

But of course, where would I get my hands on a travel-sized holyman? The black market? (Where is the black market? People say they sell stuff like organs on the black market. I wish the black market was a place. Seems like it should be. Ive been hearing so much hype about it.) Maybe I could make that happen. Until I have a guru though, I am forced to swallow absolute uncertainty..which is nasty and a murky shade of green. And tastes like wheat germ and hobbit feet. Unfortunately I haven't gotten into any of my graduate schools, which sucks balls because I have worked extremely hard in undergrad.

UnUnfortunately, the guy I'd liked for a while...just doesnt. ("Doesn't what?" you may ask..and to that i say..He just...doesn't.) In the midst of this, my best friends are becoming wonderfully successful and are falling in love (This is great and I am so happy for them..timing however..is horribly ironic lol). So what would this book tell me? Would it tell me to stay positive? To persevere in the face of adversity? Probably. but that kinda blows me cause honestly, i'm mad. And I would want the book to be mad with me. example

Title: For AWESOME People Who Have Been Unfortunate Enough to Have Been Disappointed by Lame Gay People, Places and/or Things

Chapter 1: If schools wanna be gay and reject you
Chapter 2: If the lame jobs that you thought you wanted didn't call you back
Chapter 3: If that douchebag you liked was an asshole to you

you see where im going with this im sure.


I guess the problem is that when you're disappointed, the only thing that will make you un-disappointed is for the shit that disappointed you to change its mind. and stop being such a douche. For that school to call you apologetically and groveling..saying that they sent the rejection letter to the wrong address. Or for that guy/girl to text "im sorry. i love you". Or for that job to send a helicopter to your house in the morning, telling you that they are in dire need of your expertise for a special position...But when does that happen? Never. In movies maybe. Its about as improbable as a rich banker falling in love with and proposing to the whore he hired for the week he was in town on business..

When shit disappoints me, I feel like I was farted on by a large mammal. Or like charlie Brown must have felt when the rain cloud hovered above his head and rained on him as his friends played kickball in the sun. Or that my freshly piled ice cream cone has fallen face first into dirty zoo asphalt..only to be quickly eaten by a talking dog who after eating your icecream, licks his lips and describes how delicious it was.

I want that dog to die.

Ode to the Imaginary Friend

While parousing postsecrets yesterday….

If this entry were a movie, inserted right now would be a hazy flashback montage:

Postsecrets and I have a whirlwind love/hate relationship. [cuts of anoa scrolling through the website..getting angry and throwing the keyboard off the table in frustration] I abandon postsecrets every couple months tired and confused..when I just can’t take it anymore. I cannot silence the thought that postsecret is merely a group of 3 bored people writing THE most insane shit they can think up at any given moment, and pasting them to ironically relevant (or incredibly random), themed postcards. This crazy shit is submitted and posted and published in coffee table books (whose house would have a post secrets coffee table book? Jack Nicholson’s. There are so many deep interesting things to display on your coffee table for guests that you don’t know. But some choose crazy shit on post cards in oversized hardcover books..im not here to judge) and it makes me kinda angry because some of the shit is stupid, and some of it is just way too extra for me to ever believe it to be an honest confession. I mean..how many times will I see themes such as “I’m pregnant and my boyfriend doesn’t know”, “I am currently being molested..as I write this postcard” or “I am having an odd sexual affair with an elderly clergyman”… Can we please have some more uniquely themed cards? Do you guys recycle them, taking advantage of the fact that you know fans will ultimately get frustrated or weirded out, and leave? Get it together postsecrets.

-End of montage-

(I know that was an extremely insensitive montage. I’m sorry postsecrets. I will soon get over myself. Bear with me. )


I came across a post secret that I enjoyed, however, and it spurred a conversation with myself that I felt was noteworthy.

Here is the Postsecret- (Take it in…)



While reading it, I thought..this is truthy (possessing adequate amounts of truth). Adults have much more need for imaginary friends. We have much more complicated lives. We generally think further than whether tomorrow’s breakfast will be pancakes or nasty nasty oatmeal. (I say generally, because I cannot claim with honesty that I always think past tomorrow’s breakfast choice. Oatmeal is such a disappointment. It can ruin an entire day.) We have bills, credit scores, car notes, mortgages, relationships, bad relationships, worse relationships, bosses, professors and many many other sucktastic aspects of adult life that I don’t care to share.

Imaginary friends make life much better. We must face this fact before we can move on.

Benefits of Imaginary Friends:

1. When you are upset, they make you play with them. The next time your girlfriend blows your life, your imaginary friend will say…Hey! Lets go to the park?!....and You shall go and play and life will seem better. Life is always better in a park…unless you are homeless. Then it’s still sad.
2. They are always for YOU! 100% hater-proof, imaginary friends aren’t selfish fucking bastards or backstabbing Judases like human “friends” can be. They aren’t real so they don’t have shiesty motives. You can see through them.
3. You can talk to them about anything. And they won’t tell. If they do tell, they’re only telling other imaginary people. Who don’t matter.
4. You never feel alone. Because they’re always there. Unless you’re about to have sex and you ask them to leave…or not…Again, I’m not here to judge.

I know there are more, and I will add them as I see fit. Additional benefits are welcomed.

Bottom Line: Life is hard right now. The economy has slit it’s wrists, and is bleeding out in a bathtub of its own foreclosures and unemployment rates. Earth is on its last legs…Antarctica melted today. And elephants have taken to raping rhinoceruses (rhinoceri?). We cannot change most of the macro problems we face today. Imaginary friends are necessary.

It is extremely unfair that children can get away with this and we, as adults, cannot. I am admitting my already obvious jealousy and resentment. I would like to have and maintain an imaginary friend beginning today, but I cannot without becoming a social leper. Regardless of this unfortunate fact, I encourage anyone who wants to, to create an imaginary friend and cling to for dear life. Life is hard out here on these streets…and imaginary friends force you to realize that it’s awesome to be alive.

Warning: Ages of imaginary friend’s age…could get sticky. I would suggest your imaginary friend be of a similar age group…grown men playing with little boy imaginary friends…a little Ancient Roman Gay for my liking.

-Anoa

Velociraptors and Salt Piles

I admit it..I think that most bloggers are assholes (much like people that wear shades indoors, and people that drink beer from straws). Why is this you ask? Because one, "blog" is a stupid word. And two, why post your diary online so that the entire sick sad world has access to your feelings (no matter how shallow or stupid they are)? What does a blogger look like? I assume...Jack Nicholson. Jack Nicholson is my answer for most "look like" questions though. e.g. What does a rapist look like? What does a pedophile look like? What does a pedophilic rapist look like? what does a car salesman look like? I feel that in blogging, one assumes, also, that people will read your thoughts. And enjoy them. A bit smug, que no? What if you aren't interesting? Should you blog? If the answer is no (I was really leaning toward no) is Blogging therefore, elitist? Made only for the awesome? The world may never know. Well here i go, anyone reading can rate my level of asshole-ness accordingly.


Seeing Ex's Randomly:

I think that this is one of those things no one can prepare you for. What do you do? What do you say? Do you die? Do you fake die? Do you grow wolverine-inspired knuckle blades and attack? After having seen a few of my ex's randomly and in public, I have been trying to flesh out many of the ways one can react, especially after a horrific breakup. To explore all possibilities of this situation, I like to imagine that life is a cartoon. This way, you can do virtually anything (be thrown off a skyscraper, ingest poison, have your head eaten off, have your chest pound literally out of your chest) and not die. Please do not imagine anime because it is real-"ish" enough to be porn for japanese boys that have locked themselves in their rooms, and make love to everything in their rooms to pass the time between video gaming binges.

-Ways to react to seeing an ex...if/when life is like a cartoon-

1. Fake die...complete with X's on the eyes. And just lay there.. until they walk away awkwardly
2. Animorph into a wildcat an rip them into spaghetti. Then give them to a homeless person in a to go box.
3. Become a huge penis and smack them across the face. then turn back into yourself and walk away to shaft music.
4. Turn into the herps and jump into their pants
5. Melt them into liquid and pour them into a clogged nightclub toilet
6. just stare at them....until they feel weird and leave
7. Tell them you didn't recognize them. because theyre fat now. Or ask when they're due (even if theyre skinny and/or male)
8. Tell them that they remind you of candycorn...the worst candy ever invented.
9. Turn into Hagrid from Harry Potter, and teabag them while they cry..to the Harry Potter theme music of course.
10. Give them Willy Wonka gum that makes neon colored midgets violently attracted to them.

I have more, but this is just a start.

When I saw my ex last summer, I wanted to turn into a hundred little velociraptors and eat him alive. Or cry until I turned into a pile of salt.

Am i an asshole yet?

-Anoa