Monday, May 04, 2009
May the Fourth Be With You!
told me today's Star Wars Day so I thought I better post something. About how my own life force has been idling; maybe my new estrogen-heavy birth control pill is making it so it takes ten hours to wake up and all I want to do is gobble up food. MAYBE. Or maybe I'm just a Very Sleepy Lard Ass.
Anyway, everything is sort of on hold here while we wait for my sister to go into labor. Due to our far-flung location on the Olympic Peninsula and our usual route to Seattle being severed by a major bridge being closed for six weeks, I've been really anxious about how we'll manage to get to Seattle in time to see our second nephew being born. I'm finally calming down about it now, but I did go on a late-night rampage through our town channeling my mother as I stood on the dock screaming, "ALL I WANT IS A FUCKING FERRY SCHEDULE!! GODDAMN IT I HATE THIS FUCKING TOWN!!"
Okay, I didn't really do that, but I totally WANTED to, which made me start laughing hysterically in the same exact way my mom does after she's loudly expressed her feelings in a public place, much to the shock and awe of all spectators. Sometimes people in this town are helpful in every single annoying way they possibly can be without being at all capable of delivering the one thing you do want. Yes, I fucking KNOW the ferry schedule is online. Actually we CAN get to Bremerton with the bridge being closed, it will just take longer (you may be older than I am, lady, but have you ever looked at a fucking MAP?). No, I do NOT want your six-month-old schedule nor do I want to call the Department of Transportation for the schedule. I want the fucking fold-out piece of paper that does not require speaking to anybody or having an internet connection.
Ferry schedules are one of those types of items that are always littering your cars and house when you don't need them but are impossible to locate when you do. And the people in this town are lovely, they just really drive me batshit sometimes. I don't feel the need to reach a group consensus with strangers on the best way to get to Seattle. I can still see the tortured looks on three people's faces as they begged me to stay at the quickie-mart so they could offer their useless advice on guiding me to the right ferry even as I told them they couldn't possibly help me unless they know the exact time my sister is going into labor. Because there are at least five different routes we could take that are all dependent on what day of the week and time of day we leave and whether or not the wind is blowing hard enough to knock out the closest ferry.
Okay. I promise to stop ranting about this to every/anyone who will listen (unless someone has the audacity to try to make a travel suggestion to me in the comments; if that happens, I will recommence ranting). I've procured the schedule (which totally conflicts with the information online) and the only thing we can do now is wait. Or leave early and be stuck there for days since watched pots never boil.
I have a sneaking suspicion my gigantic hunger, lethargy, and the mild cramps I've had all week will go away as soon as my sister delivers. Until then I've been spending more time off cam than I usually do, hiding in our "secret" rooms, getting some private time before we have sleepless hours of family time that includes watching my little sister go through immense physical trauma and then experiencing the amazingly beautiful emotional wreckage that goes along with welcoming a new member of the family into the world.
Or maybe I just need to readjust my sleep and work schedule and give in to my night-owl tendencies. Sometimes I'm able to behave normally, sometimes not. Could be a seasonal thing. Or allergies. Or that I'm just insane in the membrane. Or all of the above.
As usual, I've got more interesting (to you) posts to make and pictures to share, but I wanted to spit out the quick and dirty daily details before going to bed. More of them here on DailyTrixie
Labels: family, food, mundane, Pacific Northwest, rants, Seattle
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Unlucky Valentine (PICS)
A few samples from my Friday the 13th / Valentine's Day gallery:
Am I superstitious about black cats and Friday the 13th and all of that? No. If I am, it's in the opposite way -- my rational mind rejects those superstitions and my personality seems to overcompensate by becoming GIDDY over the prospect of walking under ladders and attaching positive meaning to supposedly unlucky days/events/portents of doom. So yeah . . . I'm irrationally attached to those things that superstitious people consider unlucky.
I'm happy to be home again after being gone for four. We didn't get much shooting done, but the trip and time we took was worth it not just for the pictures, but the time to ourselves, off cam. We haven't spent a night away from work (aka home) together since . . . well, since well before September. I don't think this trip totally counted as a vacation, but it was a reminder that we should try taking one every so often (I know, it seems like I'm always saying that and never fully committing to doing it).
We also spent a few hours on Friday visiting my mom including eating at Ken's Truck Town (yes, we like eating at truck stops; why did they take the Monte Cristo off the menu?) and visiting the new casino
. I was surprised she wanted to check it out since my stepdad had a serious gambling problem and my mom was initially vehemently opposed to that casino opening (not because she's still with him -- she's not -- but having lived with someone with a gambling addiction she's not into casinos at all). We all stood around like we were in a foreign country trying to decide what to do with the $3.75 I'd split between the three of us to put in the slot machines. I'd have blown more money there (I consider it a donation/reparations . . . AND mindless fun) but neither my mom nor Delia
were interested once we lost the $21 we won.
We don't have any special plans for tonight. Tomorrow and Monday (President's Day) we've got webcam shows and chat scheduled so I think we'll just do a little work and relax this evening. Delia picked up a chile-flavored dark chocolate bar for us to share.
Labels: addiction, food, legwarmers, mundane, natural boobs, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, Seattle, work
Thursday, January 29, 2009
HungryHotties.com Already Taken (PICS)
One of the reasons I love reading Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer
books is the food porn. Big boned babes and greasy spoons abound. Example from The Big Kill
. . . .I went down the corridor to where a bunch of typewriters were banging out a madhouse symphony and asked one of the stenos where I could find Ellen Scobie. She told me that she had gone out to lunch at noon . . . . It took me about ten minutes to make the four blocks and there was Ellen in the back looking more luscious than the oversize T-bone steak she was gnawing on.
I've always wanted to shoot gluttonously sensual softcore porn, but never want to compromise my enjoyment of a good guilt-laden meal to do it. Pictures like these do inspire me, though (click images for sources):
Labels: books, fetishes, food, goals, PHOTOS, TURN ONS
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Art, Numbers & Mediocrity (PICS)
I started taking piano lessons when I was about nine years old. My teacher, Joan, didn't believe in using metronomes and always had long, fancy nails even though pianists aren't supposed to. At some point during the first year of lessons, she told me that music is really all about MATH.
No math = no music. A huge revelation for me as a kid. It's a big truth that's never left me. At first my feelings about it were a little conflicted; it was sort of stressful ("I'm so bad at fractions!"), but realizing that math is the foundation of music (or at least one doorway into building and understanding it) never sucked the romance or beauty out of it. It never made it dry to me. It can be invisible enough that you don't actually NEED to know it or think about it for it to be in there. That lesson primed me to notice as years went by that math and science are built into nature and art and our insides. That the basics of them are intuitive, like rhythm, but the more you know about the math and science of something, the better your music or art or appreciation of those things can be.
Knowing that art is really science has been a solace to me -- art isn't reserved only for a few people who are divinely inspired. It can be orderly: accessed and created systematically. With simple formulas. With a wide variety of tools mixed with individual perspective, personality and tastes to make it seem unique and magical, disguising the numbers in the craft of it.
I shot a set of pictures of Delia
wearing some hot Hello Kitty shorts on Friday night and the photos are all jacked up. I'm a long way from understanding the science of photography; I *like* numbers, but they don't stick in my head very well so even though I've read about how cameras work and how OUR camera works I still don't have it committed to memory or know how to manipulate light and settings quickly to achieve what I want. I have to just walk around and fiddle with things until I mostly-accidentally happen onto something lovely. Most of the good pictures I take are the product of luck and shooting A LOT without fully comprehending what I'm doing. I recognize what looks good and beautiful and erotic to me (or at least halfway decent) and what looks bad to me and have a few basic practices for making the former (especially in the "halfway decent" category) and avoiding the latter, but my technical skills are pretty basic.
All of the pics looked dark to me so I bumped the ISO up to 1000 or 2500, I forget now (hence the graininess) and the speed down to 25 or 30 -- they still looked dark for some reason; I was letting the camera auto-focus (selecting the area to focus on myself with these little movable box thingies; I forget what Nikon calls that function but it didn't seem to be working well on this particular night) and adjust the aperture itself until I decided to do a closeup and switched everything to manual (because it balks when we ask it to autofocus macros); suddenly everything was WAY TOO BRIGHT and I had to change the shutter speed. The only thing I can think of is that the camera wasn't doing a good job of automatically adjusting the aperture and when I switched to manual and adjusted it myself then everything changed. It sucked because we wanted these pics to be bright.
The older I get, the more I see that MOST working artists -- writers, photographers, graphic designers, sculptors, painters, musicians, etc. -- are just people who've chosen
to do that kind of work. That the only thing that sets them apart from the rest of us is the amount of time they put into their art and confidence they have in devoting themselves to it without worrying whether or not a jury of peers think they deserve to make money on it. Very few artists are people who actually possess something innate that the rest of us don't have; most of it is taking the time to learn and apply information that's available to everyone (or anyone with the resources to do a little research) and then investing money in the right tools and lots of time in practicing
. Sometimes I think the most successful artists are the ones who are actually LESS gifted and too stupid/overconfident to recognize that there are other people (usually making zero dollars on their art) who are WAY more talented. Maybe the only way to be a successful "artist" is to NOT be great -- to not complicate shit with too much vision, originality, or diverse techniques and just work from simple formulas to make things that are easily recognizable and accessible to the masses. See also Adaptation.
If your work brings other people pleasure does it really NEED to be super duper excellent?
The older I get, the happier I am with shooting for mediocrity. Even mediocrity requires a lot of hard work (for me, at least). Mediocrity is attainable without being a given; you can stand out and make a decent living in a field simply by being one of the relative few to 1) choose that field, 2) commit to it for a number of years, and 3) make yourself known. All the better if you're willing to take emotional and financial risks and make sacrifices for your work/"art". The happier you are with mediocrity the wider your success. I've slowly shifted my focus of "pride" away from "talent" and pinned it on "work"; you can't be proud of having good taste or being born with certain attributes making you better suited than most to doing one job or another. Those are only things you can be THANKFUL for. The things you can actually be PROUD of are hard work, dedication and defying convention to choose happiness. To call yourself an artist as soon as you choose to be one -- to make it your job -- rather than waiting until you imagine other people think you are good enough to deserve that label. Those are the people I admire more and more, the ones who are brave & devoted enough to create some form of art (even if it's just fair to middlin') and are savvy enough to make it a business.
I used to think having to work hard at something or take a lot of time to make something acceptable was something to be ashamed and embarrassed of. If it wasn't easy it meant I wasn't good at it. Now I realize that's total bullshit (even if I still FEEL that way sometimes). The strategic choices and commitments you make to invest work in things that make you happy, better, more skilled, or even just capable of seeing you should make a different choice (I've always believed that quitting is something to be proud of; that whole "quitters never win" line is such a crock of shit). The time you spend allowing yourself to suck ass -- IMMERSING yourself in sucking ass and slowly filling in the void of your ignorance with knowledge -- just so you can become mediocre at something you love and then keep working to try to improve upon that. Beyond mediocrity there are so few people who are actually able to recognize the difference between mediocrity and greatness, there's no reason to beat yourself up if you're not capable of becoming that elite.
Being a "jack of all trades, master of none" ROCKS. It's fun, it's challenging, and I don't love any one thing enough to give up all the other stuff. So I really have to be satisfied with mediocrity, slow progress, and making balanced choices to devoting little bits of time here and there to different things I love. Like making flash cards to learn photography stuff. You're never too old for flash cards. I'm not, anyway.
I am mediocre at so many things, and have managed to balance (with great mediocrity) such a gigantic shitload of different kinds of work that I deserve to be quite proud of myself and my extraordinary mediocrity. I feel so blessed to be in a position to dabble so widely. Lucky lucky lucky, and proud of myself for creating a notable percentage that luck by my choices. For recognizing my luck and exploiting it to the best of my limited ability.
Some of us are able to do our work just because we're lucky enough to have the resources to buy tools, to live in an environment filled with inspiration and/or to be close to people who make beautiful subjects and do most of the art/work for you.
I love arranging forkfuls of food. Ones where I have the perfect ratio of one thing to the other(s). Mashed potatoes to gravy to meat. Raisins to flakes. Heavens to Betsy. It doesn't have to be fancy, the formula just has to be right. Everything pleasingly arranged in relation to each other. I will never be a good cook because I don't want to practice how to be; that's Delia's thing. It's my job just to love eating, every day, tasting and swallowing over and over and saying thank you, honey.
. And to figure out how to arrange camera settings like food on a fork, adjusting hole-sizes, timing mechanisms, and digitally tweaking things in perfect relation to the kind of light shining on my girlfriend.
Labels: art, beauty standards, food, memories, music, my trans partner, photography, PHOTOS, sex work, values, webwhore insights
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Late last night we fucked while I fondled my new toys: Delia's growing boobs
. I dare you to not be jealous of me for getting to play with emerging, swollen boobies while getting fucked by your girlfriend's she-cock. Some people might call it convenient. I call it "barely legal". And myself? I call myself "lucky" because right now she's making us a Christmas meatloaf. Food and fucking -- what more could you ask for on Christmas? Simultaneous orgasms? Well we had those, too.
I love taking pictures of this bird feeder in our backyard at different times of day/year (no, we don't put bird food in it; it's a relic left behind by past owners):
Happy holidays to everybody -- here's to celebrating in as many safe, happy, and (mostly) healthy ways as possible with big loads of hot gravy on top!
Labels: arousal, boobs, food, my trans partner, nature, orgasm, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, plants, SEX, snow, thanksgiving
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Self-Soothing with Webmastering
After having family stay with us for a few days, I usually feel like I need a day off to myself to recover from the energy kicked up from so many people around me. During this visit, however, I kept retreating to WebWhore Headquarters (that's what I call my home office) for a couple hours here and there, allowing myself to WORK to relax.
Instead of picking work that I really *need* to do that's high priority for making money, I allowed myself to work on low-priority stuff that's fun and not complex or stressful (except for feeling guilty for not doing more important things) and requires no interaction with other people. Stuff that's compact, like blogging and posting one-pagers on domains I've had for a long time that have been sitting, completely BLANK. My thought is that anything I accomplish is a bonus since I should be taking time off from work while family is here for our late-Thanksgiving so I should do something totally relaxing instead of tangling with bigger projects.
Here are some of the one-pagers I've made over the past week or two:Worse Than PornTrixieDollBorg PornDeliaTSGive Me Sugar
It's soothing to play with fonts and colors and inspiring to remind myself of concepts and ideas that interest me. Only a couple of those were frivolous, actually, with no immediate application, but I still feel conflicted all the time and defensive about the choices I make with my time. Like if I enjoy it and other people might not understand where it fits in the puzzle, then I should feel badly about it. There are a lot of things I'm choosing to NOT do, and I constantly imagine a crowd of people criticizing my choices, saying "what, she's not doing X so she can do Y and Z?? THAT is stupid! She hasn't earned the right to waste time doing that -- I want X! I want X! Y and Z are useless! She would be so much better off doing X; a bigger commitment to doing X would solve all of her problems, can't she see that?"
One of my goals is to stop worrying so much
about the critics, both external critics and my own internal asshole voices who can ALWAYS find some way to make me feel like I'm not doing good enough. I need to focus on what I'm doing right (and right NOW), not what I'm doing wrong (or not doing at the moment). Unfortunately I'm often painfully aware that every choice I make to do one thing means not doing ten billion others. It's depressing and I have to knock that shit off. Being on Ritalin does help a lot because I can sit down and focus on something without intrusive thoughts and ideas continually popping into my head of all the other things I can/should be doing which then make me totally anxious, overwhelmed, afraid to proceed with the task at hand, and hopeless because of my limitations and lack of giant progress.
I know a lot of people struggle with similar feelings, so I share this for a couple reasons: because I know other people can relate and it always feels good to know you're not the only one with these kinds of challenges, and because it helps ME to type out my fears and remind myself I don't want to carry them around. I want to be happy with what I *can* do and what I *want* to do right now at this moment. I want to look at what I've done and feel a sense of accomplishment and pride, not guilt and maudlin hyper-criticism.
Anyway, the family is gone now, our spycams are back up, and Delia's warming up some of her delicious turkey & stuffing leftovers. Life is good.
Labels: accomplishments, anxiety, attention deficit disorder, escapism, family, fears, food, goals, inspiration, links, mundane, thanksgiving, therapy, webwhore insights, work
Friday, September 26, 2008
I can't even describe how much joy a couple pots of pansies have given me. We rarely spend money on yard-stuff since we rent, but damn . . . just having a reason to go outside and water a couple bowls of flowers and inspect their tiny, perfect faces makes me so fucking happy. It did suck when we were gone last week and came home to find the deer had eaten half of them in our absence, but since pansies are so cheap it didn't feel like a major loss:
We took most of the day off on Wednesday, AND IT WAS GOOD. We took the dog for a walk on the beach when we got up, then we came home for breakfast: eggs scrambled up with onions and softened apples (that Delia
picked from the tree in our yard). It's pretty rare that I cook any of the food we eat together (Delia takes care of all the housewifey things here), so it made me feel good to contribute in that way for once.
We also spent time outside pruning the Camellia, meaning Delia pruned while I stood there and watched, enjoying the rain that started to fall while I picked up the branches. Or maybe that was yesterday, I don't know. I also got a headache on our day off, but since we didn't have anything planned it felt SO GOOD to not worry about what I wasn't going to get done and just nap instead. I'm redoubling my efforts to avoid migraine triggers, for real! I just had a minor lapse Tuesday night when I had some processed meat. Bad, Trixie!
Labels: food, health, my trans partner, nature, Pacific Northwest, rain, relationships, things I treasure
Thursday, May 15, 2008
We're getting ready to head out this afternoon/evening and not come home until Sunday; we'll be at a local transgender conference where we're slotted to be on a panel tomorrow talking about issues couples have. Other than that, we just plan to have fun. I'm looking forward to spending time away from home/work, socializing, and eating out. We haven't eaten out in a whole entire month so it will be a treat.Members/voyeurs:
some or all of our cams could go down while we're gone but if our laptop cooperates we will have a cam up in our hotel room (though I don't expect we'll be spending much time in there unless my period starts and I'm in cramp-riddled agony). At this moment I'm trying to finish uploading some video for you; if all goes well I'll get it posted before we leave. It's not hardcore, but it's entertaining (if you are entertained by the same oddball things I am).
Labels: announcements, food, mundane, my trans partner, Pacific Northwest
Monday, May 05, 2008
I detest most social networking sites (MySpace, Facebook, etc.) so it's rare that I'll excitedly ask for friends to join one of them, but I *love* GoodReads
. It's focused, list-oriented, and all about books. I want to see what my friends and fans are reading, so definitely friend me there and/or post a link in comments to your Good Reads profile.
Annoying ad I just saw in sidebar: BELLY FAT IS NASTY.
Do you know how often we buy a groceries at the store to put in the food bank donation bin and forget to do so
? Too often (and yet not often enough). That's why we have twice as many cans of Hunt's Spaghetti Sauce with sausage (flavoring) at home than we actually need. And no, we don't just try to buy the poor people crap, THAT IS JUST REALLY GOOD SPAGHETTI SAUCE! If you don't think so, you're just a snob living too high on the hog. It's both cheap AND delicious! You're missing out if you don't know what I'm talking about. I cannot walk by sale cans of that shit without snatching up a basketload.
Labels: body image, books, class, food, links, money, web culture
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Better than Finding a Four Leaf Clover
On my birthday (Saint Patrick's Day) we went for a walk in the woods with our dog. We've gotten more rain in the past week than we normally do in our Western Washington "banana belt" location, so the moss and everything seemed a brighter green edging the path.
One of my favorite things about being in the woods with Delia
is the way she will point out pretty things, first using their common names and then (if I'm lucky) their Latin names. Was it a flowering quince she pointed out? I can't remember what it was, only that it had pink buds and the water was behind Delia when she said it. I can hear the sound of the comma between the English and the Latin, even if I can't remember the words.
As we wandered off the beaten path, Delia notified me that she found a morel
For the rest of our walk she kept her eyes peeled for more while I just grinned feeling that fortune had smiled upon us. On me, especially.
Today she fried it up in butter and soy sauce and we shared that one small, delicious mushroom. It was better than a birthday cake. The kiss afterwards was salty and slick with grease.
Labels: food, mushrooms, nature, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, plants, rain, relationships, thanksgiving, things I treasure
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Heads up if you want to keep an eye on our spycams tonight: we've got fucking on the agenda
! I've been going crazy, having vivid sex dreams and masturbating, etc. Yesterday during one of my webcam shows I thought I was going to orgasm just from SEEING my clit.
I'm working on promo galleries for Delia's site
right now, it's been snowing a little bit, and my sister is cooking boca burgers with lots of extra mushrooms, etc. We've had to veil and take down some of our cams while they're visiting because of my nephew being here. It's worth it (for us), though.
Labels: announcements, family, food, SEX, spycams, TURN ONS, voyeurism, webcam shows
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Fast Food Porn Nation
FAST FOOD PORN NATIONWhy I haven't finished reading the book, my childhood experiences with fast food and eating out, and my current fast food addiction:
I didn't grow up eating fast food. For one thing, it didn't exist in our town; neither did stoplights. On very special occasions we might stop at a McDonalds out of town, but between Dairy Queen, Burger King and McDonalds, I probably ate fast food less than twenty times before the age of twenty. Oh wait, we did go to Skippers and Kentucky Fried Chicken more often (my grandpa even brought home KFC a couple of times) so I could probably add another twenty or more onto that number. I think we ate at Skippers quite a bit; my mom loves fish & chips. Skippers now seems to be the grossest, dirtiest fast food restaurant around -- a shame. We also did eat burgers out, but generally at actual non-formula drive-ins that did old fashioned grilling or were local destinations with a sense of regional history, like Dick's. Also, my mom hated soft-serve ice cream and didn't want to spend money on milkshakes or cones unless they were made with hard ice cream.
When our family would really "go out" to eat, my stepdad would take us to obnoxious pizza places. Shakeys in Redmond was one, and Showbiz Pizza was another. My stepdad LOVED the animatronic band way more than we kids could possibly relate to. Showbiz was always pathetically underpopulated, so I picture my stepdad's chortling head hovering in an empty room, the garish red stage lights reflecting off his glasses while he stared, mesmerized by the inhuman display and echoing music.
We did go out to eat a lot with my dad when he had visitation on the weekends, but he took us to diners and family restaurants. In the seventies and early eighties, Guadalajara #3 in Crossroads (Bellevue/Redmond area) was an early favorite; my dad would always order a side of corn tortillas which they presented hot wrapped in a royal blue cloth napkin. He would butter them for us. I always got a cheese enchilada. Eventually that restaurant closed and I moved on to ordering chicken enchiladas instead.
We also ate at VIPs in Issaquah where my sister enjoyed coloring their wacky bunny heads and I learned to copy my dad by ordering my eggs sunny side up. After VIPS died, we went to Shari's where my dad usually ordered steak and eggs. To this day, that's still one of my favorite breakfast meals.
Our dad was also partial to Chinese food so we went to Andy's in Issaquah a lot. We were such regulars that once my sister and I even went to Andy's house and on an outing with his daughter and some other kids to Chinatown where we went to Oujimaya (why can't I fucking find anything in google for oujimaya to find out if I'm spelling it right?) and ate out. He scolded us for using too much soy sauce on our noodles. Last thing I heard he was embroiled in an immigration scandal where he was accused of bringing a bunch of illegals over and had them working in near-slavery and living in inhumane conditions.
As we got older, we wound up eating at Red Robin a lot with our dad. I also remember a restaurant called Casa Lupita. I can't remember many of the other places, but they were your regular suburban dining spots. He never took us to Denny's, but we did go to The International House of Pancakes where he would order the Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruitie. Lately I have been wondering a lot about my dad's real gender identity and sexual preference.
I was not an IHOP fan, probably because they didn't have good booths at the locations we went to; there was something disturbing to me about sitting in the IHOP with those high ceilings and the fish bowl plethora of windows with no good partitions inside so every single person in the joint was highly visible. I think good puffy booths with high backs and a table layout that affords some privacy are appealing to children for their fort-like atmosphere and sense of glamour. I haven't outgrown my love of booths and I hope I never do; I'm guessing that our early exposure to restaurants, as modest as they might have been, instilled a preference for being waited on over grabbing fast food. I also suspect that my dad's (undiagnosed except by me) ADD made him fear ordering fast food; I understand this fear -- the menus are overwhelming, everyone's clamoring for their turn, the rules and rituals seem so regimented and difficult to decode. Everyone around you seems to know exactly what they want while you stand there alone adrift in a sea of confusion, beeping machines, and teenagers incoherently mumbling their customer service lines. It's much less stressful to have time alone with a menu at your own table with your own waitress who will answer questions or just go away if you need more time.
The only fast food our dad ever took us to was Wendy's; he loved their chili. Wendy's never did it for me, and fast food in general didn't do it for my dad. He seemed to be opposed to it. I learned to be a responsible and proud tipper from my dad and I think my sister and I are healthier people today because our weekday family was too poor to go out to eat much but did have STANDARDS when it came to burgers, burger joints and ice cream, and because Daddy took us to actual restaurants instead of grabbing us happy meals.
I started reading Fast Food Nation
, but it was so good I couldn't get past the preface; my head got busy making parallels to porn. How most porn is made and presented like fast food. How people would never say that all food is intrinsically bad because FAST food is bad, but they will irrationally say all pornography is bad because some sucks ass, or has a few ass-suckingly unhealthy characteristics. Not that all forms of ass-sucking are bad or unhealthy . . . it's just a figure of speech.
How people feed their children extremely unhealthy, addictive, and eventually life-threatening fast food and call it good without a moment of critical thought going into the decision, but think that PORN is somehow a gigantically dangerous threat to their children's lives.
That's why I don't read nonfiction as much as I'd like to. MY HEAD STARTS SPINNING AND I CAN'T KEEP READING FOR THINKING TOO MUCH.
At twenty years old I finally moved to a place with fast food restaurants ALMOST within walking distance. I became addicted to Taco Bell, and it was good. I ate a great many chicken soft tacos without ever feeling too badly about it.
Lately I've become addicted to McDonald's, though. Our town has restrictions on formula stores, so McDonald's and Subway are the only fast food places that are grandfathered in. McD's is the only place I can go late at night to get a hot and tasty treat; once I started taking advantage of this I started doing it more and more. It's only become a frequent (once or twice a week) thing in the past four or five months.
Just the other day I got suckered into playing their little Monopoly advertising game and went TWICE IN ONE DAY. We strategically planned our menu choices to get the most "game stamps". I am even online right now entering codes from my game stamps on their site. On top of that, I'm considering doing research online to find out which stamps are the hardest to get, and starting new "collector" boards to fully maximize our chances of winning a big prize; I mean, I wouldn't want to throw away a large-prize-winning property to turn in a board for a $50 prize!
I feel like a sucker.
I wish we had a Taco Bell in town -- if we did, none of this would ever have happened.
Labels: attention deficit disorder, books, eastside, family, food, memories, Pacific Northwest, Seattle, values, worse than porn
Friday, August 17, 2007
What Girls Like to Eat!
What Girls Like to Eat
Don't hate me because I'm a webwhore, hate me because I'm an asshole:Download File
I know I'll feel guilty in the morning about snickering over this.
What I really want to know now is what does "Daddy" like to eat?
Labels: food, PORNOGRAPHY, the porn industry, TURN-OFFS
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Ingredients for a Perfect Night
INGREDIENTS FOR A PERFECT NIGHT
*One full moon, visible and shining high-beam onto your bed.
*An attempt at reading a favorite book, The Mists of Avalon, again. You fail to dive in deeply but only because you feel deliciously sleepy.
*A realization that even though you're deliciously sleepy, you're not SO deliciously sleepy you can't feel the lure of the eroscillator (a clit-stimulating sex toy). In the full moonlight, you masturbate yourself to two super-fantastic orgasms.
*After being asleep for fifteen minutes, your transgendered girlfriend calls you up from a local bar to get her ride home so you put on pj pants, pick her up, and go to the store and buy some junk food. The store employees say bizarre things to one another over the intercom. Everything inside and outside the store and on the drive there and back home is surreal and wide open.
*When you get home and into bed with your junk food, your girlfriend wants to fuck. You're sleepy and only into junk food at the moment, but say that she's welcome to fuck you as long as you can just lay there and not do anything. She agrees to your proposal, you grab some lube, and not six strokes into the endeavor you realize it feels way too good to just lay there and not do anything. So you do things. A lot of things. You are on top, your girlfriend has a huge orgasm and the excitement of watching and hearing her orgasm plus the feeling of her cum sloshing around in your pussy makes YOU climax too. You remark that apparently you were in the mood after all, and a good thing too because those early orgasms with the eroscillator? They didn't do jack for your g-spot, but this fuck session totally hit the spot and rounded out the evening. To be topped only by the following:
*Your girlfriend falls asleep as you press play on a recorded episode of your favorite television show, COPS. You have the fritos, bean dip, little schoolboys (cookies!), and diet Coke all to yourself. And COPS. Plus a full moon and spooge-filled cooch. You are positively gleeful.
The ingredients for a perfect night don't necessarily carry over well into the morning. Since I didn't go to sleep until four, I didn't get enough sleep since I had to wake up early for a show. We also had some (fun) shopping to do first for some plants for a photo shoot and the yard. By the time my show was over and we started eating lunch, I had the warning signs of a migraine with major visual disturbances, so I blocked out as much light from the room and swilled down a couple of pills and more caffeine to try to ward it off. I took a nap for two hours but the left side of my head is not too happy.
I'm not sure what to blame for it (the beginning of the moon's waning phase?), but the processed salty foods, sugar and diet coke seem likely culprits. We've never been big on drinking pop, but lately have been heeding the siren song of diet Coke and now I understand why that shit is so addictive. It's truly bubbly evil in a can.
Fortunately I don't feel the urge to vomit, so things are not too bad.
While napping, I dreamt I was student teaching and also holding another straight job, but was getting all of my porn email at the school/work. I was scared because everyone was on the verge of finding out my dirty secret. My co-workers and students seemed uncomfortable around me and the principal eyed me as though a big talk was coming.
Later I was living in a cold city. My wardrobe was not appropriate for the weather, and the icy puddles were treacherous to try to cross wearing my tractionless ballet slippers. Still, I had fun sliding around on the ice in the park. I wondered to myself why I'd never been to Cleveland, and then I realized that this cold city I was in was Cincinnati, and it would be very simple for me to visit Cleveland from there. The trees were bare and the sky a thick, unmitigated grey.
Labels: books, dreams, food, SEX, television
Saturday, June 16, 2007
I have the most beautiful flavors swirling around in my mouth this morning: maple and brown sugar oatmeal, BLUEBERRIES (one of my favorites), and sweetened English Breakfast.
I woke up a tiny bit earlier than Delia
which gave us the chance to flirt with each other in bed and decide on some morning sex. I'm not a morning person the way, say, Seska is
, but I do love starting the day out with a nice fuck and a healthy orgasm to get my blood circulating.
Members/voyeurs: I'm going to do *something* chatty today, but I don't know what or when so keep your eye on the spycam schedule for late additions.
We're off to the gym now . . .
Labels: food, SEX
Monday, May 07, 2007
Do I Like Younger Men?
Trixie answers pressing questions from her audience, including whether or not she likes younger men, black men, etc. She also talks about her most recent TOY purchases and the annoying obligation to be nice during her webcam shows.Download FileNote: I WAS ONLY TALKING ABOUT *COOKIES*, OKAY?
Labels: confessions, customer relations, food, VIDEO, webcam shows, webwhore insights
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
HEAD CLEANERAfter waiting half an hour yesterday for our internet connection to return in time for our shows
, it was time to shit or get off the pot; we decided to cancel and put our time to better use than repeatedly dialing the cable company.
We left our downed-connection at home and drove over forty miles (over 80 round) to the nearest Best Buy so we could get a MiniDV camcorder head cleaner; our videos have been coming out with some bizarre chirps and bleeps and wacky messy visual disturbances and it took me a few months to realize it's probably because the heads are dirty. I'm not so smart about those things. Too bad I just spent hours downloading six videos the other day and will have to redo at least some of them to reap the benefits of the newly cleaned heads.
Anyway, I hope the cleaned-up video for members will make up a bit for the lost show. I also scheduled a make-up show for Friday evening
Speaking of head cleaner, my return to Ritalin has been treating me well. I do feel like I need to post a status report for voyeurs so they'll know when I'm medicated and when I'm not (because my behavior IS noticeably different) since I don't have enough of a stash right now to take it consistently and have no idea when I'll get an appointment with a doctor (I left a voicemail with my psychiatrist yesterday but then I pushed the wrong button and have no idea if I actually saved/sent the message) PLUS I have no intention of taking all three doses every single day. For one thing, a girl has got to eat; most of the time food is not very appealing when you're on stimulants. Just as an example, since yesterday was a special day (May Day, five year anniversary of my site, etc.) I wanted to fully enjoy good food and not have any of my natural tendencies repressed or subdued so I didn't take any pills.
The ability to take medication vacations is one of the things that I like about stimulants; they don't stay in your system very long (four hours for what I take), they don't take weeks or months to start working, you can take them as needed or not, and you're not going to have a total meltdown if you decide to go without them (though of course you will have all your ADD or ADHD symptoms come back, sometimes rebounding in an exaggerated way like a kid with a mild case of Tourettes who has managed to control most of her tics all day at school and then comes home and unloads a volley of pent-up energy; it's not the same thing, but is the only thing I can imagine that might feel similar except without the holding-it-in part since the meds take care of that without any conscious, painful effort).My apologies to those of you making it through this entire entry but aren't really interested in this stuff. I would try to keep some of this to myself but it seems like there's a significant number of readers and members who find ADD and stimulant talk useful/interesting, and it definitely helps me to blog about it.
Bubblegum lovers: since dry mouth is a side effect of stimulant use I am counteracting that by chewing and blowing more than normal on my spycams.
Labels: announcements, attention deficit disorder, bubblegum, drugs, food, health, mundane, ritalin, shopping
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Two favorites enjoyed today: hot sex and Lu's "little schoolboy" extra dark chocolate cookies. FUCK YES.
Today during my show someone asked if my boobs are getting bigger; the answer is "yes". They're getting bigger because I'm gaining weight. Even though I joined the gym and have been exercising more the past month, I've also been going hog wild with junk food, and I put all of that weight on my torso (boobs and belly) and face. Honestly I've been anxious and tense a lot and not dealing with it very well; my quick stress fix is salty carbs -- chips, buttery white pasta, buttered and salted tortillas, etc. It's not that I have any major stressors in my life right now, I'm just not coping well with the small things. I am working on it, though.
I know that there is nothing except myself preventing me from improving circumstances that dissatisfy me (debt load, mediocre quality of work, living hours from family, etc.). I do have it pretty fucking good, but my "job"/jobs constantly morph and evolve so that I always have to rebalance and recalibrate. For example, right now my job involves more shopping and costume/shoot planning and location-hunting than I ever imagined in my life. I know it sounds like fun, and sometimes it is, but it's also extremely time-consuming, detail-oriented, and stressful because our budget is limited. I'm not the kind of girl who just LOVES shopping (unless it's shopping for books or music) so it's really just pretty fucking weird and exhausting for me.
I know, it sounds like such a prissy shithead thing to bitch about: Oh god!! All of this SHOPPING is making me so WEARY! I'm just working my FINGERS to the BONE!!
And actually, I'm sure a lot of our members would be happier if we just shot basic amateur-looking hardcore at our house and didn't worry about finding cute little cottages to rent and fancy nylon stockings to wear. When I acknowledge that, then I feel discouraged and confused about what I'm doing and why I'm doing it and how I'm doing it and I don't bother to take the time to remind myself that what we do makes sense and is good (example: Delia's
hose and hosiery "look" sets her apart from other sites in her niche).
Anyway, I regret bitching about this stuff and should start setting money aside to talk to a professional because I think I just need to vent and spend more time getting to the heart of whatever it is I want most. It's not that I don't like what I do, it's that I get frustrated when doing one thing means that I'm not doing another. I want to do more (and do ALL of it BETTER), but at the same time I feel exhausted, hypercritical, depressed, anxious and overwhelmed.
Oh well, I need to finish my members-only update right now and pack for a shoot we're doing at my mom's house Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. I had to wait for the video to upload anyway so this entry wasn't a *total* waste of time.
Treating myself to a massage this morning and time to read has definitely calmed me down a bit. My period starts tomorrow so wish us luck at being productive during a time that I usually set aside for pure laziness.Thank you, members (past and current) who tolerate my mood swings and support what I do.
Labels: body parts, food, mundane, shopping, webwhore insights, work
Monday, March 05, 2007
Our house smells faintly of Lapsang Souchong
. Mmmm. . . . if you're a fan of that smokey tea, I'm in love with the Russian Caravan we can get at our local hippy store (not sure if this
is the same brand we've gotten, but it's worth checking out if you're into tea).
I'm a little hyperaware of the scent of our house right now because Kris Madison
is coming over to stay with us for a few days; I'm afraid the dominant notes in our domestic bouquet won't be smokey tea leaves, but instead will be damp, sweaty, unwashed laundry, wet dog, and heated vomit from our vaccuum cleaner which our brother-in-law used to clean up after our Nico puked while we were gone when she ate a chicken carcass.
Speaking of aromas, we ate a lot of refried beans last night; I'm on the verge of becoming the first human hovercraft. I wonder how many people cancel their memberships to my site after hearing me moan, fart and giggle over the spycam audio one too many times? Or is that part of my distinctive charm?
Labels: bodily functions, customer relations, food, friends, mundane, porn consumers, spycams
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
FRENCH TOASTNote: Bob Evans does not provide a competitive French Toast. It *looks* promising, but doesn't deliver the density required of a hearty FT nor does it offer the fluffy springiness of a light toast. It's instead a soggy sponge of a toast. We will have to go to a *real* hometown cookery to get something good.
Labels: audio, food, travel
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Two Things You Didn't Know About Trixie
TWO THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT TRIXIE
A couple of things you might not know about me:
1. I don't like those blue m&m's. I liked the old seventies colors. Red looked so pretty with the two colors of brown. Blue is ALL WRONG.
2. I believe that space colonization will save humankind -- that ONLY space colonization CAN save us. It's not something I think about often so it's not like I'm revealing some bizarre secret of mine. Or wait, maybe I am. This is something I've believed for a long time, maybe because the space station was such a big deal when I was a kid. Still, it wasn't something I had any detailed exposure to -- it just slid into my belief system.
Why does this nugget of belief appeal to me? I don't know -- probably because science barely-fiction captured my imagination somehow from an early age. I'm not very literate in the sci-fi genre in general, but my dad bought enough graphic sci-fi stuff (a huge Buck Rogers collection in giant-book form which I never read, but leafed through every so often, a couple of captivating books with spaceship blueprints, and a subscription to Omni) that it wiggled into my consciousness as something real. Star Wars was the first movie I remember seeing, and that in a drive-in theater with my dad after a fight with my mom so it made a big impression on me. I didn't study or immerse myself in science, science fiction, or technology but I saw and read enough that was so beautiful, believable, provocative and richly detailed that it planted seeds in my brain.
Maybe that's why I didn't like Star Trek: not very beautiful, believable, or richly detailed. My first exposure to Star Trek was the original series during reruns and I was too little to understand its provocative content, only to recognize its visual inferiority to Star Wars and the other pictures I saw. The only thing I liked about the original series were the short dresses on the hot chicks. Of course, in the past couple of years I've become a Next Gen fan but it didn't contribute to the formation of my belief system, only reinforced it.
I think space colonization is part of my faith; I have faith that a few smart, persistent, creative people will save us and we will endure thanks to scientists and technology. When I say "we" I don't mean "I" since I believe this will happen after I'm dead and gone, but not by much. The idea of space colonization comforts me even though it's completely irrelevant to my life and even though it will be fraught with tragedies and scary things.
I suppose I like knowing that the struggle will go on and that there are new frontiers to explore. Or maybe it comforts me to imagine that people in general won't become too much more advanced than I had a chance to be any time soon. I can't believe Firefly
only lasted one motherfucking season because that show perfectly captured what I think a lot of us imagine as the not-so-distant future of humankind.
Honestly, I don't spend a lot of time specifically thinking about space colonization as a cornerstone of my belief system. I have, however, spent quite a bit of time over the past few years reflecting on science fiction in general as the best contemporary vehicle for exploring spiritual, moral, and ethical issues. Science fiction is one of the most authentic ways I feel like I can "get religion". It's not fixed or as dogmatic as science itself so there is still room for faith (and when I say "faith" I mean faith in something -- ANYTHING -- wiggly and uncertain, not faith in any of the gods of religions we're so familiar with today), and it's not completely insane or irrational (again, like so many of the religions we're familiar with today). There's room for soaring idealism in science fiction, and for bitter cynical social commentary. I love it.
Anyway, even though I don't give daily deep thought to space colonization, I guess I do feel pretty anxious about this planet and sad about what we're doing to it. The amount of destruction I've seen in my short life, and the carelessness people have towards the "environment" leads me to believe (another part of my faith) that we aren't going to be able to live here naturally much longer without lots of artificial intervention. Much of what is most beautiful will be utterly fucking destroyed -- any of it that's saved will be via small-scale Jurassic Park type measures.
I didn't grow up in a city. Many days I actually got to wade in creeks, see big trees, smell clean air, enjoy darkness at night, have complete privacy/solitude . . . things like that. I've spent all of my thirty three years loving ferns and moss and the smell of rotting wood.
I didn't grow up in a city, but I grew up close enough to the city of Seattle to see major MAJOR changes in western Washington every single year for the past thirty-three. It's nothing against cities, because I love those too, but we are mowing good things down and paving over it so fast and furiously and on such grand scale that you have to have your head stuffed straight up your cornucopian ass to not recognize that we're shitting all over the planet; it cannot sustain these levels of "growth" and resource-rape. I wasn't raised to be an "environmentalist"; my grandpa was a logger and most people I knew were pretty conservative and hostile towards "tree-huggers". Really, my sentiments are fueled only by the gift of sight -- you have to be fucking blind to not see the destruction and life out of balance.
So. I guess I comfort myself with the fact that science will create new wonders, preserve and transplant some old ones, and life will go on. It really breaks my heart, though, imagining the world introduced to my nephew (or my own children if I ever have any) and trying to show them as many things as possible before they're bulldozed down. If my own lifetime has been marred by observable decimation of natural resources and beauty I can only imagine how depressingly ugly and destructive the world will become over the next three generations. And hey, it's not all about "nature" -- privacy and solitude are becoming relics of the past (or at least luxuries only the very richest of the rich can afford). If I ever have grandchildren I'm pretty certain their notion of these concepts (privacy and solitude) will be reduced to tiny fragments of what they should be.
It makes me fucking shudder, but I thank my lucky fucking stars to be alive in this time and place rather than somewhere else, or sometime long ago, or sometime in the near future. That brings me back to faith; who or what should I "thank"? Science fiction hasn't answered that question for me yet so sometimes I fall back on the old-fashioned stuff because really, I do need to give thanks even if it's primitive, superstitious and nonsensical.
Labels: fears, food, memories, nature, Pacific Northwest, privacy, religion, spiritual issues, Star Trek, television, things I treasure
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
The Sweetness of Fatigue
I feel incredibly exhausted. My period is due today and I feel deliciously magnetized to the ground. I tried eating a banana, but it didn't improve my energy. I tried taking a walk, but that didn't energize me either. I want to just FLOP into bed and lay there, heavy and bloblike.
I don't feel bad-tired, I feel good-tired. Like this is what chill weather, a waxing moon, and hot chocolate are made for; for me to wrap myself in flannel and dream about an isolated glacial mountain retreat town, nearly deserted, and my mom and I climbing up and down a rickety frightening staircase built into steep shifty slopes of ice. This is the second or third weird and vivid fraught-with-danger ice-mountain travel-dream I've had in as many months. Frozen mountain ranges are a very new setting for my dreams; unless there is some wild symbolic meaning, the only inspiration I can find for this setting is Lord of the Rings, particularly one of the video games where I had to spend a lot of time trying to get past the early snowy mountain-range scene. But that was a year ago! It could also have been inspired by reading His Dark Materials
and all of the brilliant arctic-feeling scenes. Mmmm!! Heaven would be a week snowed into a cozy cabin with those three splendid books. Anyway, I've never dreamt much of mountains before this, either, at least not that I recall right now. I *have* been plagued by stressful dreams involving staircases for a very long time (since I was a child, and our house didn't even have stairs in it).
"Glacier" is not in my dream encyclopedia, but snow and ice are predictably described as symbols of blocked emotions. Whatever. Mountains and stairs have similarly silly symbolic meaning attached to them. I'm too lazy to delve into this with more depth, and would prefer not to receive any interpretations from others.
Labels: books, dreams, food, hormones, weather
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
HOT! HORNY! HAHAHA!
HOT! HORNY! HAHAHA*HA*!
I feel *so* good. The more sex we have, the more sex I want . . . the more sex I get.
I smell *so* good. A black velour boa made spicy with the smell of Tucker
's sweat from hanging on a hook next to his worn clothes. The small of my back enriched by his cum; I slept with it squished between my skin and our flannel sheets. My own hot, demanding cunt smell on my fingers and steaming under my open skirt . . . from in between my black opaque ass-highs that sometimes roll down unevenly on my thighs when I'm walking.
We fucked on the couch yesterday, then I stayed up late blogging and he was already restlessly asleep when I came to bed, trying not to wake him. Even though it was dark and my eyes were closed, I could see my own soft white thighs and ass melting into the spoon of his thighs, groin, and belly when I tucked myself into him. I could see our soft hot whiteness coming together in the dark because we felt so fleshy against each other. I smiled and tried to go to sleep, because I thought he just wanted to sleep. When I felt his flesh inflating against my ass I marvelled at its tirelessness . . . its pattern of waking and sleeping so independent of his. I tried to be still instead of immediately responding to it, but I may have wiggled against it just a bit, just to test it. I swear he strained towards me at the same exact moment I wiggled against him, and through my earplugs I could hear him gasp, sounding almost like he was protesting against a fever or audibly aching for a glass of water.
More wiggling and straining.
Throughout the whole thing I kept seeing our bodies as white hot, but bluish and ghostly in the cold dark room . . . like warm slabs of fat and muscle softly patting against and penetrating each other, swallowing and slapping. Everything felt so silky, soft, white and creamy. Like butter without that fake yellow coloring -- firm, white and vulnerable.
Tonight we went out and had DRINKS! Both of us had drinks!! I hardly ever imbibe, but tonight was perfect . . . rainy and slate blue, early enough in the bar that it was quiet enough to hear rain falling on the window next to us. Or maybe I just imagined that sound, like I imagined the whiteness of my hips in Tucker's jacknife under the blankets last night.
Labels: body parts, food, Pacific Northwest, SEX, thanksgiving