They do it for guilt free attention.
I love zydeco music. Any time Terrance Simien is within easy driving distance we go see him. He throws beads during his show, even using his feet to toss while playing.
Hijack… Buckwheat Zydeco is playing 5 minutes from my house next week, but I can’t make it. Going to see Kermit Ruffins play two shows next weekend though!
Our friend who lives in New Orleans (and who is not inclined to flash her boobs) finds it amusing that one can go to certain stores and get a bagful of beads for a few bucks…or one can go to where the crowds are and get a handful of them for exposing oneself.
No. And it’s not complicated. Mardi Gras flashing is frivolous fun, an acceptable environment to do so, and relatively safe due to the permissive atmosphere, police, and expectations of the crowd. I can wear a bikini on the beach but not at work because Larry from cubical 25 leers over my shoulder if I wear a V-neck sweater. I can wear shorts to a summer concert but I can’t wear them to the grocery store in February unless I want some scary loner to follow me to my car. I can’t and won’t flash my tits at church, but have been known to do so at HH runs and during particularly competitive games of horse. Had I gone to Mardi Gras prior to being married, I’d have whipped them out and earned my souvenirs alongside my frivolous and fun sisters without giving it any thought whatsoever.
Other than environments conducive to rowdy fun, I have zero desire to show my breasts or display anything usually clothed to anyone other than a lover. I’m not secretly hoping to get away with a nip slip. I don’t like it when guys lurk around hoping for a peek in my blouse or up my skirt. It’s not flattering. Even the up-down is a constant nuisance. Women are not all exhibitionists, and we’re not all squirming at our desks just hoping that the IT guy will come by and peek at our goodies. Mardi Gras is fun, that’s all. Not some mecca for all women who are secretly show-offs. We see tits every day, every day we bind them up in bras, every day we feed babies, every day we try to minimize the jiggle and only a rare few of us use them to make a buck. But by and large tits are no big deal. They just aren’t as important to us as they are some of you. They’re just tits, guys. Half the population sports 'em. Not that big of a deal unless or until you make them a big deal.
Wasn’t meant to be taken seriously Troppus.
I’ve been on Bourbon Street when it’s not Mardi Gras season, in town on business, and there were women flashing tits and men whipping it out for beads. One of the guys I was with did so, no alcohol involved, to get some beads to take home. He got some lighthearted mocking (“where is it?”), but he got beads too.
It’s been over a decade since I was down there during Mardi Gras season, but penis was ensuing even back then. With crowd approval. Pretty sure alcohol was involved, though.
My theory is: that’s what women do with the beads they get. It’s like a closed loop: tits-for-beads -> dick-for-beads -> more tits-for beads -> etc.
It’s not just BEADS.
There’s Cups, too. And Dubloons
More than you could shake a tit at.
<looks at the stack of doubloons he has next to the computer monitor>
Yeah…about those…I found them? Honest. No exposure involved. Really, honey. What? Pictures? Are you going to believe me or your lying eyes?
But Kimmy: Mr Bodoni??!!
I’m shocked. SHOCKED.
Well, there are good, expensive beads, and then there are cheap, crappy beads. Tit-flashing is typically for the good ones.
I used to date someone who had gone down to Mardi Gras before I met her, and came back with a box full of really expensive beads. She most certainly earned them, and wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by it. She had very impressive (natural) breasts, and was quite proud of them.
Hey! I see those have hotlinks to ads for “Mardi Gras Booty”. When I went to Mardi Gras, all we saw were tits and penes, not booty! I’m gonna need to go back, I guess.
Considering recent events in the Zimmerman trial, I think that’s a good decision.
Well, not all of them. You keep enough to take home that at least one person will ask “What did you do?”
But yeah, it’s great the things you can get guys to do for beads–and the more and better beads you have on, the more stuff you can get them to do for worse beads. They become even more obliging when you tell them that no, those particular beads they want aren’t available for trade because you had to sleep with a guy to get those.* At that point, some of them will start making their own suggestions for their exploitation and your amusement in an effort to get those beads away from you.
My theory is: the better beads you have, the more guys assume you did to get them so the more they assume you’ll do for/with them if properly motivated.
*It’s not necessary to mention that the guy in question is your boyfriend and you’re meeting him back at the hotel in a couple of hours.
Troppus was not serious either as indicated by the words “..large tits are no big deal”
Maybe that’s a little out of context.
Well at least not until Saturday night!
I figured some posters were hoping that women would counter with some suggestions for other things one could do with proffered tits during Mardi Gras:
“She showed me her bewbs! OMG I should totally ask her out!”
“She showed 'em to you. Totally wants you, brah.”
“Maybe she’s lonely and wants my phone number!”
“She’s really hard up for it and hoping I’ll chase her down the street.”
“Maybe she wants an escort to her car!”
“She likes me! She really likes me!”
Alas, the flash is for beads only. No dates, no motor boats, no gropies, and no soft place to rest one’s hangover. Just beads; maybe some shits n giggles. Worth the exact same value as the currency they garner.
It’s probably not the meaningless value of the beads, but the glorious memories they represent, rather like a secular rosary.
In the long future these will be the treasures, her dainties, wrapped in lavender, aged ladies will take out to amuse the grandchildren relating the acquiral of each precious chain, and granny’s — possibly wonky — memories of flashing nights and gallant gentlemen.
I think it’s just people having fun. There isn’t a need for a more complex explanation.
Oh, dear. Last year I gave my 4yo niece about a bushel of old Mardi Gras beads along with other dress-up costume jewelry and a jewlrybox. They were immediately deemed BEST PRESENT EVAR, and all other b-day stuff was summarily ignored in favor of her bedecking herself and anyone nearby in Mardi Gras gewgaws.
… in retrospect, I may have conveyed the wrong lesson there.