Take Me To Camp KiKiWaka


Has anyone ever watched the Disney show, Bunk’d?
It’s a  spin off from Debby Ryan’s family friendly, comedy, classic Jessie.

I am just now tuning in via Netflix and, woah.

This is a teen to young adult comedy on  the DISNEY CHANNEL.

There are a ton of sexual innuendos

subliminal messages



One of the more talented actresses stars as a  rounder, smiley-er , silly-er, dopier country counselor filled to the brim with good wisdom, a pure heart and lots of comic awkwardness. She refers to her co-stars Peyton List and Kevin Quinn as “pretty people” a few times on the show. For myself this is  insinuating that her character, who we see,   is not a pretty person; she is not one of the slimmer actresses on set and her character is not made for beauty. But Pretty is List and Quinn, what there characters look like. Typical, some sort of blond hair, physically fit white people. Which makes me wonder…what do children find attractive? How do they learn to associate what they see with what the feel is attractive, and is that something the brain does , is it by sight , by influence, hormones, what? What gives us our ideas of what is what.
Within Season One there is also a  budding relationship between these two co-stars. Quinn is an attractive counselor. List plays a younger counselor in training. In the middle of the woods for the summer, cute boy, no parents, he is a counselor and you are a trainee. I mean that’s hot, right? Or am I a pervert, (Keep in mind I GREW UP ON EVERYTHING DISNEY. TV, MoVIES, MUSIC, TOYS).  But should my kid’s t.v show have ‘hot’ drama in it? (By the way I do not have a kid, this is how much I love watching most things Disney). With any well casted group of characters; “everyone is well represented”; you have your cute but sassy little black girl, a little Asian girl whom plays a  character  always spending time trying to run away from the stress of her  *** her mother, Many of her cleverly written lines are banter for : ‘my mother only cares about my performance in academics and competitions’ .
And let us not forget the saddest part of it all, literally; the desperate, lower middle class, hack of a job female character that runs the camp. In one episode she is sen drinking from a flask like object. Is she an alcoholic,? hahaha, but really.
And she spawns a psychotic bleach blonde niece. Her niece runs around in a pixie hair cut with pig tails, suspenders and shorts. She is obsessed with thus said “Older Counselor guy” and essentially sexually harasses him in a multitude of comical ways.
I almost forgot Ravi. He actually is a good actor , but I hate that because his character is the smart but odd foreign character they cast him as un-athletic  and not “cool” . Everyone is dramatically characterized.
It’s a fucking soap opera , “novela” for children.
There is literally only one adult present in the whole show

I am constructing this rant specifically because I just watched an  episode where ‘Zander’ (the male lead – older counselor hot guy dating counselor in training) says:  “  helping kids is the best part about being a counselor, well that and watching and  cutesy i.t’s jump up on the water trampoline” Bunk’dThere’s No Place Like Camp S1 E11

And I am a huge advocate for Disney in several ways. I like DISNEY as an enterprise, but now that I am older and able to view things from a different perspective I have some mixed feelings.

I think Children should be introduced to sexual feelings, stereotyping, and reality hardships  at a younger age because they have them sooner than we think…but is that from some brainwashing from media and t.v. or should we allow T.V. to discuss these topics for our children? The messages I receive from this show, as an adult are not very “Kosher”.

But then there are it’s redeeming moments , like when Zuri ( Skai Jackson) says:
“Why can’t you hear a pteradactil going to the bathroom…because the “p” is silent” Bunk’d”Live From Camp KiKiWaka.” S1 Ep.20
Comic Gold
And educational

things that make you go hmmmm…..


That one time I caught myself on fire while performing.


The older, very attractive man I was dating solicited my fire dancing services one weekend. Naturally I was anxious but this anxiety came with something else….lack of training. The last gig I performed in San Diego was over 2 months ago. I was not consistently practicing and progressing my moves, and I hadn’t burned aka danced with fire since the first week in Feb, it was now mid  April.

We arrived at the venue….. in Mexico; I forgot to mention during this time I was living in Mexico. I pulled on my knitted tights and dipped my poi for the entrance. I spun the excess gas off my props, neglecting to dab myself down with a wet tolla after. I began to prance in, one quick whip of the wrist to criss cross and within a few seconds my left tight was burning. The gas, as expected, burned off fast and within a few moments my left thigh was exposed but no longer burning.
I just kept dancing and smiling.

My first prop burned out and I exited the make shift stage.
The percusionistas tapped rhythm into beats , Mini entered with her LED Hoop , then Jenny wowed the crowd with her poi moving. Jenny is very good with the poi and that fucks with the egotistical Leo in me, which drives the intent to begin training again.

I dipped my hula hoop in anticipation for the finale. We all danced onto the stage, Jenny touched my wicks with her balls of fire to light me.
But the hoop wasn’t lighting.
I had danced in the rain with it at least an hour ago.
The wicks were too damp for the gas to burn.
So here we were, at the finale ; Mini dazzling with her lights, Jenny tossing the poi effortlessly around her body and then me….dropping a wet fire hoop that wasn’t even on fire.

It was pretty embarrassing.

And not only did I have the worst performance of my life, it was my lover’s company who hired me.

Double whammy.
But these are  type of things that happen to Ashley.

Or maybe it was a kick in the ass from the universe saying “hey slut, stop dicking around and get back to training or you’re just another rookie” .

I like to think it is the latter; just makes me feel better about the entire evening.


Long Live The Pregnancy Trick


For many years there has been a long-standing tradition which many women have participated. Every April 1st men across the country are surprised with accusations of positive pregnancy, Facebook posts will be made declaring a new member into families, calls will be made to friends with shocking news of fertility. But the hoax only last a few hours and soon we all remember it is April Fool’s day and none of friends, lovers, or family are actually having a baby.

It’s all in good fun, like several other April Fool’s tricks. So why is it we are now encountering messages bashing the timeless ruse?

As I scroll my news feed today and see articles shaming women  who play the “pregnancy trick” I must admit I heavily disagree. These articles claim that it is offensive and hurtful to women who have trouble conceiving or may have lost a child during birth, it further explains how distasteful and inhumane the pregnancy trick can be…..are you fucking kidding me?

I’m sorry, when did April Fool’s become such a diplomatic event  that required rules and boundaries? Furthermore, what does your situation have to do with me? Correct me if I am wrong, but I do not think anyone woman is intentionally mocking another woman’s infertility today. I have not seen any “I can get pregnant and you can’t” posts or memes. It is not my fault that you can not conceive or that you may have conceived and lost your baby.That is between you and your body. Just as the joke is between my lover and me. If seeing pregnancy jokes illicit a depressing moment for you, that is something you need to deal with and I strongly suggest post traumatic therapy.

Too many times society has told us it is everyone else’s fault for our feelings, while it is the exact opposite I believe. Imagine it this way; you are a mother having trouble conceiving, you see your friend makes a status announcing “BABY BOY ON THE WAY” , and even though you know it’s a joke you break down and cry in regards to your own troubling situation, and while you are crying you become enraged with your friend “how dare she joke about getting pregnant when I am actually struggling”……well how dare you become infuriated with someone else’s joke because of YOUR infertility? Any one else notice how selfish hatred can actually be?

If no one is intentionally being malicious towards you directly in regards to your infertility then why do you feel the right to be offended? Should cancer victims be offended when girls shave all their hair off voluntarily? Or should men be offended by lesbians who wear dildos while lovemaking?

Now, I am not saying fuck being sensitive to struggling mothers to be but I am asking for them to think about why they feel offended and outraged at a simple joke that has nothing to do with them.

I say long live the pregnancy trick on April Fool’s day! And if it offends you, don’t get on your social sites today.

Now please, let the ridicule of my insensitivity begin.



I always thought she was really cute.
Slender, hip-y, tall with pale curves.
Her eyes were softly blue and her lips plumply pink. She reminded me of “Nips”; a major love interest in the original UK version of Skins.
She was so sexy, so confident yet so hopeless; seemingly weak.
I always wanted to kiss her I think.
Even before I really KNEW I wanted to.
And once I did that’s all I wanted to do.
She turned me on, kept me fascinated, in her presence I was always horny…
And we were both younger then.
Katy Perry’s song always played in the back of my head-“I Kissed a girl and I liked it”
But these stirrings weren’t simply cordial. Not just another intoxicated girls evening.
I wanted her.
To be with her.
For the two of us, together, to mean something.
I had the lingering to be with her The way I wanted to be with men.
She was so pretty, and complicated and confusing but so pretty and delicate and sweet but I didn’t know, at that time, being bi sexual was an authentic part of me.
I still regret not using the opportunity to pursue anything with her.
Anna W. ,to this day, is the only past one I would go back and try it again with.
And we never actually “tried” anything.
We slept together twice, three times maybe.
Went on one Valentines date. Nothing comparable to the facade I recollect to to people informing that her and I were “dating”.
I wish then I knew more about me.
About my sexuality.
I wish I had pursued her more.
Because as a person she glowed in beauty.
Her eyes,
Her lips,
Her mind
Her hobbies
Her flaws
Her body
Down to her inspiringly naughty
tattoos tracing her curvy lining.
Secretly, at the time, I wanted her to want more of me, but somewhere we plato-ed and the increasingly steamy altercations became less interesting.
One night I leaned in to kiss her and she abruptly disregarded me.
And, as I thought only a male lover could, it slightly pained me.
I didn’t know until Anna W. that I truly also desired girls.
Until her it was just a few drunk inklings induced with cohesive exploration.
But her I wanted.
I wanted to make her smile.
I wanted to make her laugh
I wanted to get her off and explore the inside of her tummy
I wanted her body
I wanted her approval
Her loyalty
As a lover, not just a friend.
But I didn’t know who I was now when I was who I was then.
I didn’t know what it meant to be bi sexual and truly lust and have intimate affections for another woman.
I was just so unsure and unaware and Anna W.may have very well been uninterested.
She was hard to read, mostly responsive sexually but even then she could be stoic enough to confuse me.
I think the day she skipped away to Hagerstown I started identifying with bisexuality ;displaying my acknowledgment for female affection more.
But Anna W. will always be the first for me. Not the first girl I have ever been physical with but the first girl I have ever encountered genuine feelings for. Mostly because she was so beautiful and mostly because she still is highly covetable to me. Even if it was just another experience while we were young, Anna W. will always be my reason for defying my bi sexuality.

Dear Diary


Today the universe bent down and kissed me. Figuratively speaking. The day was filled with good vibes and occurrences for me. I finally, after a tiresome and doubt filled search, found an affordable room to rent that is not in a foreign owned boarding house labeled as “comfy home with room to rent!”.
One of my more discreet club crushes and I while speaking today realized we were both Leo’s!!!! And even though he has a significant other, I don’t see the harm in sharing expression-able conversations with him. Plus I love his razor straight pearly teeth that show when he is smiling. Surprisingly and yet re assuredly, I have the funds I need and I am not worried about the funds that I don’t. Almost a week after my “cab- incident” (notice the use of incident as opposed to accident) My tailbone has finally agreed to cooperate with the rest of my body. This is awesome considering I have not done any handstand inversions lately. There is no lack of security in my employment. I am blessed with a place to practice a few of my flow arts and the ambitious motivation to commence a performing art career. Life does not appear to be at a stand still for me; I’m progressing. I am creditably trying to regrowth my independence and responsibility while creating myself not only as an individual but a spiritual being. Today I was happy. simple excitements filled the day and the appreciation for them only made the day that much sweeter; as if the universe and my life had conspired together and were happy for each other.

Cabbies and Cop Cars


The Reflection: blog post

I can’t believe how frantic I was this morning, how much I cried incredulously. The proper thing would have been to keep the meter running. Even if it would have been very costly. That would easily have avoided the occurrence of what happened sequentially. I reacted too rash, hard, sensitive, with out control of my decision making.
I assumed out of good faith the cabbie would have reluctantly acquiesced relinquishing me.
Jumping out of a moving cab was surely all too daring.
My skinned left elbow is going to leave quite a scar along the skin, in addition to an immobilizing pang in my tail bone.
If it didn’t end horribly, if it didn’t end shamefully, I would have had an amusing defeat as the scar would not be in vain.
But it is another scrape, another ache, but my pride has also been scraped.
Enduring a potential landlord witness your debacle with the local federals….and then come to the rescue by paying the fare herself!!!
It killed the lioness in me.
A delinquent act on display, I felt cornered, threatened, I was defeated due to my own lack of responsibility.
And in that moment I was weak, compulsively I begun crying, searching my contacts for someone to calm me. It was a series of unfortunate events. I probably will have to continue to search for a new room to call home. Not to mention how embarrassing it all was for me.
My forgetfulness will never get the best of me again.
I understand the effects from lack of memory.
For in that moment I am weak.
And weak is something I don’t want to be.

(Cont. below photo)


Incident- an avoidable occurrence
The incident
Text to T-dog from a few hours earlier

Sent: Sat, Nov 9 2013, 11:16am
Msg: (1/6) I had an appointment with a lady renting out her whole house this AM, on the bus there I go too far to the metro which makes me late, I come to the concl(2/6) usion I’ll take a cab to double back. While I am getting out of the cab I realize my debit card is not in my possesion and I cease to carry cash as not t(3/6) o deplete my funds with frivolous spending. Cabby don’t like that and even though I protested earnestly with supplying him a check or another method of m(4/6) oney transfer and he decides he is going to drive me back. I’m already late and the spot in the house is a great deal, so I just continue to exit the cab(5/6) as the driver attempts to stop me by speeding off. That didn’t end well for me, my elbows, my butt or my back. Still, after I scrape myself off the side street I wait by the cab as he calls the police. A few mn pass, no police yet, no one is answering my calls and now I’m even later so I just continue to

Sent: Sat, Nov 9 2013, 11:20am
Msg: (1/5) Down the street to meet the lady. So at this point i am late and bruised and frantic from the prior situation. I meet the lady and all seems good. As i le(2/5) ave to go back down towards the cab i see a cop, he was just about to pass me when i stop him to look at him and wonder if he is looking for me. I kinda (3/5) approach the cop car, stupid i know, and he questions if im the one from the cab….three cop cars in front of this lady’s house later,my potential land(4/5) lord comes out and pays my cab fare, I am so mortified I begged her not to and suggested moments later that
while i go to the bank for a new card i can b(5/5) ring her back the cash…she asks me: are you sure you can afford rent 😦 FUCK

Let’s Scream Sexy!!!….not


Miranda, that one red headed, kinda hot kinda not, secondary character from SEX AND THE CITY had it wrong when she said she wanted to “scream sex” after a potential hook up wandered toward the sight of a slightly under dressed younger more attractive looking girl.
Miranda later in the episode complains that she is sexy but men don’t notice that. She named it the ability to scream sex and that she wanted to, with her physical appearance, scream sex also.
A real woman doesn’t aim to SCREAM sex.
More so she strives to display it.
Properly, tastefully,modernly with personality.
Every feline creatures posses the attribute to appear sexy. But you never want to outwardly scream sex or demand to be found provocatively sexy. You want to learn to display yourself as the feline woman you are and in your own skin you are sexy.
Reasonably true, more often than not attraction is driven somewhat by physical lust, thus being the reason we want people to find us “sexy”.
What I think the character of Miranda didn’t apprehend is; you don’t TRY to SCREAM sex with your physical appearance.
Knit tight red lipstick whores scream sex.
Caked face divorcee cougars scream sex.
Under age, tiny shirted adolescent girls scream sex.
A bachelorette displays it.
A woman displays it.
For instance; sexy could be displayed in her neckline, where she has chosen to wear no necklace at all, in place of where your fingers might caress her soft skin.
But no woman should want to SCREAM sex.
Scream that someone should dominate then be rid of her.
That is all too desperate.
Too easy.
But you DO want to display that you are sexy.
As a feminine creature it is your right to be.
Think of it like this: Who wants to buy a purse if it don’t look pretty.
Display that you are a sexy womanly creature, whatever to you that may mean to be.
I think that is what Miranda,the character, meant when she referred to her envy of women who possess the ability to “scream sex”.
I believe Miranda meant: the ability some woman posses to tastefully, modernly, properly, with their own personality, display that they are sexy.
And that is the type of sexy attribute to be envious of.