A Dick Pic Is Worth A Thousand Words

Good Morning Friends! Nothing like waking up to a dick [pic] in your [mail] box, am I right? Regardless of your gender, there’s a chance that you’ve seen a dick pic. In some cases, you may have received one by accident. In other cases, you may have received one with purpose (more on that purpose later). When the subject comes up, the question that I hear from women is “why?”. “Why do [strangers] send me dick pics via Tinder, OKCupid, etc.?” Usually the story goes something like… “We exchanged a few messages and everything seemed cool. Then, out of nowhere, he sent me a dick pic! I didn’t ask for that! I didn’t want to see that! I’m certainly not going to reciprocate! Why did he send that?” Well, ladies, let me start by saying that it’s not your fault.

Generalization Disclaimer: As you read this post, you may find yourself thinking/proclaiming aloud “I don’t do that. My friends don’t do that.” Good for you. Let’s review the word, generalization. “A general statement or concept obtained by inference from specific cases.” This means that if what I’m saying doesn’t apply to you, then I ain’t talking to you. Don’t make this about you.

Have you ever listened to men try to talk to women? It’s like a train wreck. Female friends have (jokingly) asked me about some of my favorite pickup lines to use in a bar setting. I always disappoint them when I reveal that I have none. I’ve never done that whole “go to a bar to pick up women thing”. I have no go-to one-liners. Because of that, I find it both hilarious and depressing when I sit at a bar and over hear the lame attempts of men trying to talk at (not to) women. In general, they just sound like idiot hunters hoping to notch their belts with no concept of social cues. Gentlemen, if she keeps checking her phone, she doesn’t want to talk. If she keeps turning her back to you, she doesn’t want to talk. If she’s eating, let her eat and leave her alone. “Jet! How am I supposed to meet all these pretty womens if I don’t spit game at the club?” Don’t spit. Games are for children. No one can hear you at a goddamned club, stop shouting.

It’s worth mentioning… This post isn’t meant to coach men on how to approach women. This post isn’t meant to coach men on how to snap better dick pics. This post isn’t meant to defend dick pics. This post is meant to answer the question why. This is why women (and men) continue to receive so many dick pics from strangers. This post isn’t intended to pick on men and their poor communication skills. The truth of the matter is that communication is a lost art and everyone is horrible at the shit. Men are poor listeners and have a tendency to Mansplain things. Women are poor listeners and have a tendency to Womansplain* things.

*Womansplain: When a woman answers a question with feelings in lieu of facts. (e.g. “Do we need to make a left or a right up ahead.” Response: I feel like we should go right. ~or~ “Does that cost more than $100?” Response: I feel like it shouldn’t cost that much.) Womansplaining is also in effect when a woman answers the question she feels you are asking instead of just answering the question that was actually asked. (e.g. “What time is it?” Response: The movie doesn’t start until 7:30! [That’s not what I asked you!] ~or~ “Has he been drinking?” Response: We’re taking a cab! [That’s not what I asked you!]) Much like Mansplaining, Womansplaining comes from any gender.

It’s worth mentioning… When I wrote a post of 1,172 words about Mansplaining, it received likes/laughs/in-person kudos/forwards/etc. Before any woman gets butt hurt about what I call womansplaining and decides to write some angry comment about me being sexist and patriarchal blah blah blah, keep in mind that there’s this thing called humor and women are not beyond reproach. If what I wrote about womansplaining upset you, there’s a chance you may be guilty of it and causing challenges to communication with other people. If you’re able to laugh at others, take a moment to laugh at yourself.

With all of the poor communication going on today, technology has only made it worse. When was the last time that you used the phone app and actually spoke words from your mouth to someone else’s ears? Have you ever been texting back/forth with someone and tried to call them only to have them not answer? You know the phone is in their goddamned hands! Have you ever been in an argument/debate on an email chain or comment thread that lasted hours/days instead of talking it out for 10 minutes? These are all examples of communication breakdowns. I once forwarded a GF the power bill and in the email I wrote, “could you please help me to keep the bill lower by lowering the thermostat by one degree”. She told me that my email was rude. Rude? One sentence, with the word please, was rude? Well, the majority of all written communication is misinterpreted because we don’t have the luxury of body language and vocal tone (which are both key elements to delivering and receiving the intended message). Because of that, whatever she was feeling when she read the email also played a part in her perception of my tone. I meant it to be a polite request. But, she felt I was being rude. How could I have avoided that? I could have just said the words with a smile and a kiss in person to avoid any confusion of my tone. Wouldn’t it be great if we could all just talk to each other, face-to-face? Yeah, but to quote Ms. Sweet Brown…

Someone once asked me the impossible question of how to end misogyny. In my lengthy answer, I mentioned the importance of genders learning how to talk to each other. Imagine a seminar for men, lead by women, on the subject of how to have conversations with them. Think about how many times men seek the counsel of other men to learn how to pickup women. Think about how many times men feel like they just don’t know how to talk to women and they retreat to their “man cave” to access an online chat room (with other men that have the same claim) to lament on the issue. In order for us to get closer to gender equality, men need to be taught how to communicate with (not just talk at) all genders. In a perfect world, gender sensitivity training would be a part of the curriculum from Pre-K on. We need more than a Sadie Hawkins dance to shake up societal gender roles. But, this isn’t a perfect world and genders aren’t getting any better at communicating with one another.

In a society where we are overwhelmed with sexual imagery, most of us are convinced that our worth is defined by our looks. What do you get when you combine the cocktail of poor verbal communication skills, worse written communication skills (texting shorthand lingo + autocorrect = bad spelling/grammar), and the assumption that the stranger on the other end wants to know our appearance-based worth? You guessed it, you get dick pics. A picture is worth a thousand words, right? Look at my dick.

What’s the purpose of the dick pic? My first bit of sexual advice came from my older cousin. He was sort of like a big brother to my big brother and myself. When I was a teenager he told me the simplest way to get a girl to have sex with me. “Man, if you ever want to have sex with a girl, just show her your dick!” He gave no further explanation, nor did I ask. What more was there to say, it seemed simple enough? When I was a teenager, it worked like a charm! Eventually, I became better at communication and no longer had to rely on that gimmick. But, I was constantly chasing the experience of sex with someone new. In that chase, many men consider themselves hunters of sorts. They use their dick pics as bait hoping for a (figurative) bite.

Do I send dick pics? I only send dick pics to two types of people. 1.) Someone with whom I’ve already made sweet love and we’re just flirting. 2.) My (often Lesbian) friends with whom I’ve never had sex because they’ve sent me some pic of their lady parts or we’re just being silly. [Hey! If you can’t send a dick pic to your BFF, why do you even have a timer on your camera phone?]

In conclusion…
~Be prepared to receive more and more dick pics as your online dating life continues.
~Consider removing yourself from the online dating world and re-establish old fashioned communication. Go to a house party and get somebody’s phone number after you make out in the back room.
~Stop sending dick pics to strangers. Only send them to your friends that have asked for the Glamour Shot of your Gonads and the Gangly Member.
~If you must send them, class up your dick pics and send them in the postal mail. That’s right, print it out, use a stamp, and send your dick pics the proper way. Show her that you care enough to send the very best. [And for fuck’s sake, manscape my brothers, MANSCAPE those pubes!]

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Patience And Compassion (A Revelation)

Last week’s post has been on my mind every day since the ink began to set in my skin.

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I’ve found myself in a quagmire of anxiety with every asshole I’ve encountered. I keep asking the same question. Why does this person deserve compassion? Why does James Eagan Holmes* deserve my compassion? Does Andreas Lubitz* deserve my compassion? The answer isn’t important, I’ve been asking the wrong question. To question who is deserving (of anything-not to mention the compassion from some dude in Oakland) is arrogant folly. I learned this lesson when I almost lost my temper behind the wheel. Oakland/San Francisco must be in a two-way tie for jay walking capital of the U.S., if anyone were keeping track of that sort of thing. I’ve ranted about the subject before. One of the regular habits of these jackasses is to run out in the middle of the street and slow to a walk while still in front of your car. Good times, so fun! Well, a couple did this to me on Friday morning. While the young lady kept running, the dude behind her strolled the entire width of the busy street. Even as several cars screeched to a halt, he never picked up the pace even after I slammed on my brakes and lost a bit of rubber to keep from ending his life. As I called him all sorts of muthafuckas from behind the wheel, he just looked at me. He didn’t flip me off (that’s common for jaywalkers in the Bay Area), he didn’t say a word, and he didn’t raise an eyebrow. He just looked in my eyes as he kept his stroll going and it was clear that he gave not a fuck. That left me with two choices. 1.) Shift to 1st, cook some rubber, and mow him down in the middle of the street at 10:30 in the morning. (“All the years if I pull this trigger!”) 2. ) Breathe deeply, stay cool, recognize he wasn’t worth my anger, and just keep it moving. I chose door number 2. I kept thinking about that look on his face. He was truly indifferent about the fact that he was endangering his life and the lives of drivers that could have ended up colliding because of him. I took a lesson from that experience. While I’m sitting round wondering how to have patience and compassion for all, many people are not expecting nor craving my patience or compassion. The jaywalking, Mr. DGAF‘s look implied that he was unconcerned with my level of patience or compassion for him. He didn’t desire/need either from me. That’s the lesson I took from that experience.

It’s worth mentioning… I hate it when people tell a story about a look someone gave them that involves projection of their personal issues when the person could have just had a booger rubbing against their nostril. This isn’t that. I’m not leaping to an assumption of what Mr. DGAF thought based on his look. Based on his actions (did I mention that the actual crosswalk was about 100 feet away) and a look that said nothing, he didn’t give a fuck. That can be verified by anyone that saw the incident. I’m not just telling you how his look made me feel.

What does that mean for my pledge to have patience and compassion for all? The most memorable lesson that I learned from Sesame Street was to tackle one task at a time. My last few weekends have been good ones because I’ve been able to balance productivity (chores) with creativity (dance) and social networking (you know the real kind, in people’s faces). There was an episode wherein some furry creature (Elmo?) was frustrated by the enormous stack of homework in front of him. Some human (Gordon?) came along and pushed all of the books off screen and placed one of the books in front of the furry dude. The lesson was to focus on one element of a huge undertaking before allowing yourself to be overwhelmed by the weight of the total endeavor. Well, with the help of Mr. DGAF’s lesson I’ve decided to focus on one element of my pledge before doing it all. It’s impossible to hug the entire world at once. I’ve decided to start with the people within arm’s length. There are plenty of people that have and will come to me in need of my patience and compassion. I will do my best to give it to them. Over time, I’ll be able to give patience and compassion to those that haven’t requested it, to the DGAFs of the world. But, that’s further on up the road on a very long journey.

*Feel free to perform your own searches on the people mentioned above. I won’t add to their notoriety by adding a link to this post.

The Pledge + I Am A Burlesque Performer

“I pledge allegiance to this journey that leads to a higher state of consciousness and to this life, for which it stands, with patience and compassion for all.”

Those were the words that I wrote/agreed to during a journal entry at the Naked Camp in March. They resonated with me so strongly that I asked Micah Riot to tattoo them on my chest, shoulder, and back. [Sorry, WordPress is giving me an error when I try to upload pictures this week.] I’ve always believed in challenging myself to be a better person and I don’t take words tattooed on my body flippantly. This has been my most challenging tattoo to date. When I read it aloud to a colleague, she immediately repeated the last two words to me, “for all“? She asked. Aware of her drift, I immediately conceded that some people are easier than others when it comes to having patience and compassion. It’s not headline news that some people are unkind (read: assholes). This pledge challenges me to answer the questions how and why, daily. How can I be patient for the person that walks down (not across) the middle of the street and flips me off when I choose not to change my speed? Why does the person that beats a child deserve patience or compassion? That muthafucka deserves a boot to the face, right? That would be the easy answer and it would certainly make me feel good. But, there’s an important rule that must be highlighted in our daily dealings with assholes.

The Asshole Rule The anus has one job. Because of that job, the anus smells like shit all day. Even if you spend 15 minutes detailing it in the shower, soon after it will go back to smelling like an anus. The unfortunate truth about an asshole personality is that they have one job. Because of that job, the asshole human does shitty things all day. Even if you spend 15 minutes beating the shit out of the asshole human, soon after they will go back to being an asshole. Think about that for a minute. I’m sure you’ve noticed that our society tends to overlook provocation. Someone can spit in your face and kick your dog. When you beat them and put them into the hospital, you’re the one facing charges. Weird! No wonder we always shouted, “THEY STARTED IT!”, when we were kids. No one considers the provocation. Assholes provoke in hopes of getting high off of their drug which is our response/reaction. I won’t feed their ego. I won’t be their pusher. Instead, I choose patience.

It’s worth mentioning… I’m not suggesting that anyone turn the other cheek. I don’t believe in that. I’m suggesting that the right balance of patience and compassion won’t place me in a situation for the first cheek to get slapped. You dig?

Anger is so much easier. It’s so easy to just flip out, be impatient, and start cussing people out. But, then I become the asshole. No one considers the provocation. Everyone just sees me cussing people out. No thanks, I’d like to be invited back to this house party. I’m not going to amp on that dude committing party fouls. I’m going to stay cool. The tattoo is still a work in progress. Micah will be adding some custom artwork over two more sessions and some of that work will cover my first tattoo. When I was 18, I walked into a shop in Atlanta, chose a Chinese symbol that translated into “cool”, and had the dude put it on my left shoulder. It was my first tattoo challenge. I was going through Anger Management at the time and I would reach up and touch the tattoo whenever I need to cool down. Over the years, I’ve reached for it less and less. People often compliment me on how calmly I handle certain situations. I hold those compliments in high regard. I no longer need the cool tattoo challenge and also, I don’t speak/read Chinese. A Chinese woman once confirmed (while laughing at me) that the translation was correct. “Ha ha ha, you think you’re cool! Ha ha ha!”

Why challenge myself in this way? If my pledge didn’t challenge me, what would be the point? As a young dude, I stared at the flag and said the pledge of allegiance but, I was never challenged to conduct myself as a patient and compassionate human being because of it. The pledge of allegiance was a rote morning routine in grade school that involved more lip moving than recitation. I don’t want to turn this into a political post, but out of curiosity… Does anyone else find it interesting that this indivisible one nation still has states in the South that celebrate the Civil War (e.g., confederate flags, confederate soldier monuments, and confederate parks) and their former desire to secede from the union? Anyone calling America one nation hasn’t lived in many parts of it.

It’s worth mentioning… Before any overly patriotic mouth breather begins typing a rebel yell of a reply, understand that everyone has had a very different experience in this country. If our demographics don’t match, keep your opinion in your back pocket.

Do I regret getting these words tattooed on my body? Not at all. I may never accomplish the goal/pledge of having compassion for all. But, as long as I’m challenging myself to be patient and compassionate as a first response, I see this as a righteous path. Will I ever write a new challenge and use that tattoo to cover this ink in 18 years? W(ho)TF knows? Ask me in 18 years.

Please note: I did not write this blog to suggest that any reader do anything remotely similar. Write your own pledges and create your own challenges. I am asking you to be a better person. But, how you define better and how you manage your societal interactions is entirely up to you. Enjoy your journey and honor the gift of life by living it.

I Am A Burlesque Performer

A Bay Area news group recently, did a piece on burlesque in the bay. Here’s the link to that story! You may recognize the picture of me from my Black Dynamite act. Sometimes I get the question, why, in regards to performing burlesque. Why have I chosen burlesque as a creative outlet? Much like any creative outlet, burlesque found me it wasn’t the other way round. While burlesque by definition is not a gender-specific word, some people make up words like “boylesque” or even worse “brolesque”. I am a burlesque performer. I concede that this is and always has been a female-dominant environment, so I understand the desire some may have to distinguish between crotches. But, I am a burlesque performer. I try my best to bring drama, absurdity, and tease to every strip I choreograph. My costumes have included handcuffs, suspenders, multiple bowties, monocles, wigs, nunchucks, and straight jackets. I’ve dressed up as Gumby, Venom, Black Dynamite, Steve Urkel, the American Flag, and a shadow of pain. I’ve danced to Chemical Brothers, Marilyn Manson, Goapele, Van Hunt, Prince, Deftones, Portishead, and many others. I’m sure that people classify me as neo-burlesque or some other such label. I am a burlesque performer. I’ve never identified with the label of “classic”. In the golden age of burlesque, there were no black male performers. If there were, I doubt they wore a mohawk or covered there body in pledge/reminder tattoos a la Memento. Why do I wear pasties when I perform? As I mentioned, burlesque is a female-dominant environment. In many venues (at least in California) it’s illegal for a woman to expose her nipples in an environment that serves alcohol. I believe it to be a stupid, sexist, and archaic law. So, as long as women have to legally wear pasties, I’ll wear them in solidarity. I’m a burlesque performer and I hope to continue bringing memorable performances to the stage until the day it feels like work.

Come see me perform a new number in our Post-Apocalyptic themed show!
Friday, August 14 – Hubba Hubba Revue @ DNA Lounge in San Francisco

Taste The Soup | Taste The Tease

Taste The Soup!

One of the meals that I eat is a mason jar of soup that has a tan color and smooth texture.

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Because of the appearance, this exchange often happens…
Them: “Is that peanut butter?”
Me: “Why would that make sense? Why would I be walking around, in public, eating an entire jar of peanut butter?”
Them: “I LOVE peanut butter!”
Me: “So do I! But, that doesn’t mean that I would just walk around like a fucking 5 year-old, eating an entire jar of peanut butter with a spoon. It’s soup, it just happens to be brown.”

It’s worth mentioning… I could have just said that last sentence and kept it movin’. But, I choose to challenge people to think about their (interrogative) statements. I’m sure you’ve heard the argument that there are no stupid questions. While I do believe that people should ask instead of assume I also think they should think before they ask. A better example is the tattoo question. Them: “Did that [tattoo] hurt?”
Me: “Did a needle puncturing my skin, 50 to 3,000 times per minute, hurt? No. It felt like the tongue of a baby Unicorn.”
Them: “Well, you know what I mean!”
Me: “No, I don’t.”
There are no stupid questions, there are just people that don’t think before speaking.

Alright, enough of me being a dick, here’s the peanut butter soup recipe that you’ve been waiting for since reading the title of this post. [Also, please note that if you read the smoothie recipe from a few weeks back I’ve edited it to remove two ingredients.]

Here Are The Tools You’ll Need
A high-powered blender (e.g. Ninja or Vitamix)
Scale that measures in ounces
Six Wide-Mouth (16 Ounce) Mason Jars

Here Are The Ingredients You’ll Need For The
Arrogant Farmer’s Stew
Boneless Skinless Chicken Thighs, 12 Ounces
Lean Beef, 12 Ounces
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Mirepoix, 1 Container
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Arrogant Bastard Ale, 2.5 Cups
Farmer’s Broth, 1.5 Cups
(This is a mixture of different animal – beef, goat, chicken, pork, et al. – broths. If you haven’t slow cooked enough meats at home and saved the broth from each to make Farmer’s broth, just mix a few store bought broths.)
Water, 1.5 Cups
Raw Cashews, 1 Cup
Skinned/Chopped Sweet Potatoes, 1 Cup
Peeled Beets, 6 Ounces
Drained/Rinsed Garbanzo Beans, 6 Ounces
Garlic, 7 Cloves
Chopped Fresh Sage, 2 Teaspoons
Sea Salt, 3 Teaspoons
Cayenne, 1 Teaspoon

Here’s how to do eet!
Combine all of the ingredients in a 5 quart slow cooker. (A 4 quart slow cooker should also work. I suggest using one with an auto shut off timer if you’re often away from home.) Set it for Low/8 Hours and cover (there’s no need to stir). It should look like this when it’s done and your kitchen will smell great!
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Next, ladle it all into a Ninja Blender (or Vitamix as long as it’s high-powered). If you have an immersion blender, you can skip this step and just blend it right in the slow cooker. Keep in mind that you’re blending meat and an immersion blender may not stand up to that.
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When you start the blender, start slowly and gradually increase the speed/power until you reach the max setting. Let it run until it looks like this…
IMG_4283…and then blend it some more. Pour it into 6, wide-mouth, mason jars and enjoy within 7-10 days. (It may keep longer, but, I wouldn’t push the envelope on that sort of thing.)

It’s worth mentioning (again)… The recipe disclaimer: Barring any allergies (foods that cause an allergic reaction are NOT the same as foods that you dislike) don’t make any substitutions until you’ve tried it this way first. Remember, if you go to a restaurant and special order something that’s not on the menu, you lose the right to complain about how the flavors came together in the dish that you made up. There’s a reason that the chef didn’t put your nasty concoction on the menu. If you decide to make shit up, you should eat it without complaint and let every disgusting bite be a lesson to you.

Want to see me talk shit and challenge you to exercise at the same time? Join me for a fitness class in San Francisco. Find me on the schedule at Studiomix.

Mondays
Studio Road Ride @ 5:45PM
Tuesdays
TRX Bodyweight Burn @ 7:15PM
Wednesdays
Studio Road Ride @ 7:00AM
Tabata Cross @ 5:45PM
Cross Mix @ 8:00PM
Fridays
Studio Road Ride @ 6:15AM
Tabata Cross @ 8:30AM


 

Taste The Tease
“If you can talk you can sing, if you can walk you can dance.” -African Proverb

I’ve always been of the opinion that dancing is just the physical manifestation of our emotional connection to music. So, before you tell someone you can’t dance, just remember that you may not have found the right song. Keep listening. Come out, dance, shout, and show some love for burlesque this week!

Tomorrow night, come see me perform a new act in a burlesque show performed to covers of classic songs. Which song will I use for my performance? I guess you’ll have to come out and see! Here’s the link:
Monday, July 6 – Hubba Hubba Revue @ DNA Lounge in San Francisco

Friday night, come see me perform as the American Flag in a State Fair-themed burlesque show! Here’s the link:
Friday, July 10 – Hubba Hubba Revue @ DNA Lounge in San Francisco
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Friday, August 14 – Hubba Hubba Revue @ DNA Lounge in San Francisco