TastyTrixie.com

Archive for April, 2006

SPY ON US IN OUR HOTEL!
Oooh . . . we *do* have internet access at our hotel, albeit slow and perhaps unreliable, so you can still spy on us in spite of my previous entry. We don’t have a microphone here now, but we’ll go pick one up next time we let the dog out at home.

Full Gallery appearing in my Members-Only area with today’s update.
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We’re leaving this afternoon for a two night shooting spree in a local hotel. Sadly, it’s not wired for internet access, so you won’t be seeing much excitement on our cams for the next couple of days. Maybe you’ll catch the dog doing something interesting or spot us checking on her or our email during frequent trips home to let her go pee, etc.

I hope to write more pithy blog entries upon our return now that I am completely saturated with television. I had a nasty dream about Flava Flav last night involving his teeth which were actually three elaborate sets of dentures. Everyone was playing basketball at some rapper’s house when Flav decided to show me his teeth since I accidentally pitched a ball at his face, potentially harming his “teeth”.

The first row was an intimidating row of predatorial metal jaws which he was able to lift out to reveal a startling inch-thick set of thick white falsies (sort of like game tiles or white dominos). Upon removal of the white ones there was a hideous rotten brown forest of brown stumps and decay like wet cardboard.

Watching MTV (and most specifically MTV Cribs) brought this sordid nightmare upon me and I think I need to pull myself away from the tube if I’m to avoid my brain being invaded by these grotesque visions. So. More good blogging, less tv-watching.

TWO INTERESTING POSTS
FuzzyBunny blogged about a couple of noteworthy and provocative items deserving of more commentary, so check them out:

Woman Researches the Used Panty Industry
Woman Puts the Smack Down on Subway Wanker

I know I’m not too responsive to comments in my blog, but Fuzzy always seems to respond to hers and these news items seem designed to provoke thoughts and comments so check them out.

IDIOT BOX
Eating, fucking and watching tv. That’s almost all we’ve done the past couple of days. We had a lovely champagne brunch in bed to celebrate Easter, and later Tucker made the YUMMIEST pizza with feta, pesto, onions, etc. The only thing that could have made today better? Another BOTTLE or two of asti.

I intended to watch high-minded learning channel type stuff via our new satellite dish, but instead I recorded about two hundred episodes of MTV Cribs. There have only been about three “cribs” I actually envied: Missy Elliot’s, Bam Margera’s, and that rich guy’s Virgin island. It’s inspiring to see all of these white trash and ghetto folk that have gotten rich but have absolutely no taste or imagination. Growing up poor and female does, I think, lead you to believe that you’ll never be rich because you don’t DESERVE to be rich. Watching MTV Cribs shatters that myth. People get rich all the time, apparently, who do not deserve it and have very few ideas for what they can do with their wealth.

I find the refrigerator contents shocking in these people’s homes. I guess MTV probably stocks some of it just so something is in there, or maybe to get advertising dollars, but seriously — does nobody believe in organic food? Fruits and vegetables? Steering clear of processed crap? Why would you NOT buy organic milk if you were rich? Why would you have frozen pizza? I’m not sure why I find all of this so shocking and appalling. I guess I always fantasize about having good food, having people to shop for me, being able to buy nice produce all of the time and have someone chop it up and serve it to me on a silver platter. And not being constrained by a budget to shop at a chain store full of processed foods.

It’s late . . . I must stop wasting time judging the refrigerator contents of people on MTV Cribs, and go watch another episode before sleep.

DREAMY D
I dreamt I was selected to have sex with George W. in a swank hotel. I was very horny, and I couldn’t WAIT to fuck George W. It seemed so dirty and nasty, I came over and over. I also dreamt (unrelated) we got a check in the mail for $7.93.

The directv guy is here right now, mounting our dish (which is why some of our cams and audio are down). He looks like a young Eugene Levy, dark, greasy and bespectacled, but without the huge hair. He does have a cowlick and Dumb & Dumber bangs. I’m really hot for him and his obscenely cute chin. No, that is NOT sarcasm, it’s the God’s Honest TRUTH. He’s kneeling in our bedroom right now; I got a sweet glimpse of the soles of his feet in white socks with a hole in the left heel. Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet. Again, this is not sarcasm. I just like feeeeeeeeeeeeeet.

Our house is unnervingly, abnormaly tidy after having a handyman visit yesterday and the cableguy here today. Straaaaaaaaaaaaaaange.

When I took a nap this morning (we woke up way too early in order to clean up for the directv installer guy, and when we finished I needed to snooze) I could smell pussy on our blankets. I nodded off, sniffing and sighing contentedly.

VOTE MY FRIEND INTO PLAYBOY

My friend Kris Madison is in the running to be in a “Girls of MySpace” spread in Playboy. You should vote for her HERE.

Good luck, Kris!!

Here is her blog entry about it.

Go, go Kris!! Tens all the way!! You will knock the competition out of the water!

GRANDMA, IDOL & STUFF

Listen if you’d like to hear how our visit with Grandma went along with some rambling about American Idol and plans for tomorrow:

MOONLIGHT & FROGGIES
Our backyard is magnificent due to the fantastic placement of our house. Without mapquesting it via description, let me just say it reigns supreme at night in the moonlight.

The past couple of nights have been not-cold. You know, you can stand outside in a coat and not think to yourself, “jesus it’s cold out here”. You might GET cold, but it doesn’t feel cold. It’s springtime, the frogs are noisy, and I can’t tell you how good it feels just to stand out there, take a big whiff of treetop hilltop cool night air, and tilt my face up to the sky. It is good medicine.

I’m working on finishing today’s update for members, a video with a familiar theme (twenties and white panties) that never ceases to moisten me with hot silly glee.

ANOTHER DAY . . .
It’s been three months since we did any laundry (our “new” house doesn’t have a washer or dryer), so we took eight loads to the laundromat today. I feel like I have been busy nonstop today and yesterday, but don’t have anything “special” to show for it.

But on Friday we will have DirecTV. Through the phone company. It is the end of an era for us . . . we are submitting to 155 stations on the idiot box. I am most looking forward to Comedy Central, CourtTV, and recording old movies and A&E biographies, while Tucker is most looking forward to CSPAN (or so he says).

One of the major factors in deciding to go ahead with this life-altering change is that since we started watching two channels via antenna I feel like we’ve wasted so much time watching commercials and shows we don’t even want to see. More specifically, I have become extremely sensitive to fast food advertisements; the sight of burgers and greasy chicken at night TORMENTS ME WITH FEVERISH TICKLINGS TO MY APPETITE. I fucking can’t handle it and am sick of crying myself to sleep each night aching for cheeseburgers. My prayer is that the tivo-like DVR . . . thing . . . will allow us to circumvent the ads and things we don’t want to see, and get straight to what we DO want to see WHEN we want to see it.

In order to help afford the luxury of television, I downgraded our Netflix account from five to two movies at a time and am cancelling our subscription to a netflix-like porn thing. Our utility bills are going down now with the weather warming up so that will help a bit too. AND someone offered to donate to the cause for TV and it just wouldn’t be right for me to pass that up, would it?

Tomorrow we are going to see my Grandma. I have a lot of apprehension lately concerning my grandma and communicating with her / seeing her. I’m not one who appreciates guilt trips but I seem to wind up on that ride with her whenever we talk. She told my mom she thinks I’m depressed, but the truth is that SHE DEPRESSES ME. It’s not just an “old people depress me” thing, it’s the guilt trips and passive agressive stuff and choices she makes (actually choices she REFUSES to make) that depress me. It’s the suspicion that women who wind up in abusive relationships might actually LIKE being in them and choose/attract them. I feel mean and angry when I’m around her or talk to her. But now that I’ve gotten a little of that off my chest, I need to decide to have a good visit with her tomorrow, to be kind, to be patient and to not take her guilt-poisoned claims of “understanding” personally.

I guess it’s really just sad, and I would feel guilty regardless for not visiting more and bringing more happiness to her. Or maybe fearing that visiting more couldn’t possibly make her any happier, but would only give her someone to bounce her unhappiness off of (not that she acts “unhappy” — she acts pretty jolly, actually, as she repeatedly lists all of her symptoms and illnesses and drugs and doctor visits and avoids virtually any topic that doesn’t revolve around her and her physical situation). Or maybe I’m just sad that I really don’t know what’s going on with her, nor do I want to. Part of it is that I totally don’t relate to her. Sure, there are parts of her in me (very visible to Tucker, it seems), but overall our personalities are very different.

I actually think I would like living in an old folks community. No, it wouldn’t be my first choice of places to be, but as long as I have earplugs, books, and my own room I can’t imagine being very unhappy. I can certainly understand being unhappy with constant pain, though, and my grandma does have more than her fair share of that. Which I will hear all about tomorrow.

More than anything trivial I’ve bitched about here, I seem to still have a lot of dramatic emotion surrounding my dad’s death. It’s been almost four years now and I still cry about it. Probably not about him being dead so much as that part of me feels like I MADE him die because I was ready for it and somehow communicated that to him. I was the one who was with him when he died – if my sister or his sister or my mom had been there instead of me oh whatever. Eventually they’d have left and it would have been just us again, just him and his daughter aka the usher to death. Maybe I’m afraid that I will make my grandma die too just by being my mean, tired, impatient self.

It’s not that I want my dad to be alive and suffering. That’s just the thing . . . I clearly DIDN’T want him to be alive and I imagine that he knew that, that he FELT it. That my death-invoking energy killed him and tainted his last moments.

I don’t want my grandma to be dead, but I do want her to be happy, and find it annoying that she can’t just DECIDE to be happy and amuse herself. I guess if I have this insane fear that my “bad energy” can kill vulnerable people, I should focus on working up some good energy in hopes that it will be equally as powerful. Even if that energy stuff is all bullshit, at least it will make me a more pleasant person to put my focus on sending out good energy instead of Trixie death rays.

Note: I’m locking out comments on this entry because I doubt I’ll feel like responding to what will certainly be well-intentioned and caring remarks, but could accidentally poison and muddy my already toxic energy supply. This is one of those diary entries that is written for a blogger’s own personal therapy. I seriously don’t have the time or desire to provide all of the background information and context required for anybody to respond in a meaningful way that wouldn’t involve writing a book to clarify things that almost certainly will be misapprehended, I just want to explore my feelings, share them a bit with the people who might enjoy reading reflective entries, and move along to a nice snack before bed.