TastyTrixie.com

Archive for October, 2006

My First Videoblog!

Quality: not so great.
Potential for abuse: thrilling

FOGGY FLOATING
Instead of getting caught up on emails last night, Tucker and I wound up in bed after our fantastic Yahtzee game and a couple of drinks. As most of my fans know, I’m not too big on drinking BUT every so often booze is just what the doctor ordered. Along with a nice healthy fuck.

With one candle lit and the humidifier’s droning motor and static-mist-sound I committed that ultimate female sexual sin: I JUST LAID THERE. I enjoyed the feeling of being massaged by Tucker’s cock inside me. I did some deep breathing. I totally relaxed. I may have looked like the bored housewife merely tolerating her husband’s “needs”, but inside I felt like a pampered queen being ministered to by her energetic most-favored-slave-boy. Just as he came, I realized I wanted to climax too. He stayed hard and kept feeding his cock to my pussy until we rolled over and I got on top. Thank you baby Jesus for blessing some men with a refractory period of zero seconds, because I love to come after he does and the best way for me to come is when I’m on top of him rubbing my clit against his body and his cock against my g-spot.

The strangest thing happened as or after I came: the smell of him and us together hit me like the most precious, sacred aroma in the universe and I actually thought to myself, “I never want to smell another person like this — I never want to smell myself mixed up with anybody but him.”

Vehemently monogamous and romantic thoughts like that RARELY cross my mind. I mean . . . basically never. While I’m intellectually loathe to commit to thoughts like that, I can’t deny that I derived intense emotional pleasure from that sudden celebratory jealousness last night of wanting to preserve our soggy exclusivity FOREVER.

Laying in bed together afterwards I felt like our little world had peacefully broken off of the rest of the world . . . our little room broken off from the rest of the house. We could have been floating last night, loose, in the box-pod of our bedroom
with a candle, just drifting away in a Halloween fog smelling gently of sex.

IMPROVED
We are now drinking and playing Yahtzee so I feel a little bit better. I, of course, would prefer to be playing Magic: The Gathering, but alas . . . Tucker’s desire for MTG is not so strong.

After Tucker passes out tonight I’m going to try to catch up on some email.

BLERCH
Members (especially those who like to spy on us):

The powers that be where our spycams are hosted decided to switch to a new flash-based software for the camfeeds. What this means in terms of quality and speed and overall pleasure for you as viewers, I’m not yet sure (and I do know there are a couple of issues to work out that they’re already aware of). If you notice anything, good or bad (or better/worse than the old version), about them PLEASE post your feedback in the BBS Forum’s General Discussion area so the site owner and operator can read them.

As far as I go, I’m a little grumpy about the switch; the new software sucks up shitloads of resources on our computers, putting a major dent in our productivity. I couldn’t tell you what they look like from a viewer’s perspective because all I get is “video waiting . . . ” whenever I try to view a cam. Not. Happy. Me. No. I’m trying to keep an open mind, but this is one of the last and only elements of my business that I have very little control of which makes me distressed and uncomfortable in and of itself, so any little change or reminder of that sends my brain and adrenal glands spinning.

The two main problems: the quality of the feeds were SO GOOD (better than any camsite I’ve ever seen) before this switch, that from my perspective there is nothing to gain from changing. The other problem is that this reminds me that even with five fucking computers running around the clock, we still don’t have enough. The last computer I bought that was going to be my new work computer instead became devoted to streaming cams, so now with this new added resource-hog just to continue broadcasting the same number of cams, I’m at even more of a deficit and very frustrated by it.

God, I hate bitching about shit like this especially when most people probably wouldn’t even notice or remark upon a change. I don’t like setting people up to dislike something that will probably be perfectly acceptable but this looks to me like paying more (in terms of computer resources and efficiency) for less.

Fick.

Part of why I’m grouchy is that this morning I woke up feeling like I could do whatever I wanted to do today, but instead wound up HAVING to install this software today (on five different machines, remember) and send out a bunch of emails about the switch, blah blah blah. The interruption darkened my mood, I’ll tell you. In general I’ve been feeling annoyed by how much administrative bullshit I have to do and (as I’ve whined about before) how very impossible it is for me to find long stretches of time to really FIND WHAT I WANT TO DO MOST and actually have time to DO IT. Black, foul, and bitchy. That’s how I feel right now.

Q ‘n A
Snagged from Doc Holly’s LJ:

1. Who was your first prom date?
I never went to a prom. My friend Jan (pronounced “Yawn”) and I decided to boycott it together. I still remember him saying he would rather sit at home and watch his cat make kitty roca than go to prom.

2. Who was your first roommate?
Junior year of college, her name was Skay. It really interfered with my masturbation schedule. I’m not into roommates.

3. What alcoholic beverage did you first drink?
Sips of my granda’s beer and sometimes his whiskey and ginger ale. I was very young (maybe four, possibly even three) and once he left this concoction unattended too long and I swilled down a whole bunch of it and must have been quite drunk.

4. What was your first job?
Besides babysitting? Fifteen or sixteen, worked for the school district doing data entry.

5. What was your first car?
Silver Nissan Sentra

6. When did you go to your first funeral?
I think the first was my uncle, my Grandpa’s brother. I was in my twenties.

7. What was your first broken bone?
I’ve never broken a bone.

8.Who was your first grade teacher?
Mrs. Bowers or Bauers or something like that. If they would have known about ADD back then maybe she wouldn’t have said on my report card, “Trixie asks a lot of questions even though she knows the answers.” She also wouldn’t let me use a study carrel(sp) when I asked for one. Apparently she thought I was just a little attention whore instead of someone who couldn’t concentrate and didn’t understand directions and had to constantly guess and rely upon intuition to try to do assignments.

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
In eighth or ninth grade when our band went to Disneyland.

10. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was it with?
I never snuck out of the house.

11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with them?
My best friend was Marie, the one who wound up in a bible-based cult. When her pastor forbade her to spend time with me and the demons possessing me, that sort of interfered in the continuation of our friendship. I’ve only talked to her a handful of times since she escaped from the cult.

12. Where was your first sleepover?
The first one I remember that had more than a couple people was at Kim’s in junior high. I snuck porn to it and was the only person who admitted to masturbating. This was shocking back in the 80’s to junior high girls.

13. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day?
I don’t call people when I’ve had a bad day.

14. Who’s wedding were you in the first time?
One of my cousin’s elaborate and huge wedding. I and another girl were “junior bridesmaids” and my sister was the flowergirl (or again, maybe one of two — can’t remember). It was an awe-inspiring event for me as a fifth grader.

15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
Pee, check the spycams and check email.

16. What was the first concert you ever went to?
Randy Travis and Alan Jackson at the Puyallup Fair.

17. First tattoo or piercing?
No tats, ears were pierced probably in sixth or seventh grade.

18. First celebrity crush?
Elvis

19. Age of first real kiss?
Sixteen. No joke.

20. First crush?
When I was about four: a neighbor, Scott, who lived down the street.

21. First TRUE love?
What a retarded question. Tucker is my only true love.

Sometimes the shit I hear and see in the porn world just makes me want to vomit. Case in point, going into the chatroom for one of my live shows last night and seeing someone who nicknamed himself “RapeBuildsCharacter”. Naturally I banned his ass immediately, but knowing you have an hour to act all “sexy” for an audience of people that include him (because banning only removes him from the chatroom, it doesn’t stop him from viewing the show) can be a challenge OR give you the feeling that you’re involved in something totally sociopathic, and that you must be sick yourself to be able to ignore the presence of such stupid malevolence.

Half an hour later, just as I was still chatting but preparing to masturbate, someone pecked out in the chatroom, “I’d like to punch her right in the mouth”. And then everyone wants to know how “wet” I get in these shows. With that kind of bullshit (and usually a lot less evil, but more persistent and annoying comments) the only kind of lubrication I produce during group shows is synthetic, and is squirted on me and my toys from a bottle. It’s actually a small miracle I’m able to orgasm during these performances at all (and that miracle is delivered by a god named Hitachi).

Speaking of lube, last night I watched part of the E! True Hollywood Story of Jenna Jameson. While I found her slightly more interesting and eloquent than a few other media darlings (that mouth breather Scarlett Johansson, for example) I turned the show off in disgust when they started remarking on all she’s done to educate people on female sexuality. I almost ripped my ears off at that point to stop the auditory assault but before I could do that, there she was, proudly providing an example of her brilliant porn star lovemaking secrets, “I tell ladies not to use lube; use SPIT instead!”

Wow. Thanks for all you’ve done to benefit the “ladies” of the world. We’re all deeply indebted to you. Next time I take my boyfriend’s pole up my ass I’ll make sure he haucks a big phlegm-filled loogie on my butthole to ease his entry lest I make the amateurish mistake of utilizing a pleasant task-specific product like synthetic lubrication. This is really going to improve my sex life: USE SPIT. Maybe I should also make sure to get a set of long dagger-like bacteria-harboring acrylic nails before the next time I fingerbang a girl or myself? Yeah! Smart!! And I’ll make sure that whoever is spitting on me wears garishly-overdone lipstick so I can more thoroughly enjoy the grotesque spitting-clown performance. Oooh, my female sexual intelligence is skyrocketing thanks to these brilliant suggestions and inspiring images! It was all too mind-blowing for me, so I had to turn the television off before my horizons expanded too far for my puny eyes to fathom.

I hope this doesn’t make me sound as evil and whore-hating as those people in my chatroom last night, because honestly I’m happy for her success and . . . whatever (even though the show informed me that she’s NOT a whore . . . she’s a BUSINESS-WOMAN; color me confused, because I thought whoring IS a business). But I had to laugh when I logged into her webmaster program to get the link code for her site (because no way am I sending people to her site without the possibility of scoring some dough for myself) and I read that SHE SOLD OUT TO PLAYBOY. Yes, after all that bullshit jive talk about how she owns her own brand and about how she’s such a savvy in-control businesswoman, I read that she sold the internet empire (her husband) built to Playboy. Whatever. I’m sure she’s to be congratulated for this sale, but it doesn’t mesh with the hype and image she tried to project, at least on the show I watched last night. I don’t follow all of the hoopla surrounding her, but I suppose this probably has to do with her whole “Jenna Loves Babies” campaign for motherhood or whatever. Way to stay in control, girl! What an inspiration!

Warning . . . I won’t be publishing any comments of the “you’re just jealous, Trixie and it’s so ugly on you!” variety.

Oh, and I should mention that I’ve nothing against using spit as lube in a pinch or when just a wee dab of moisture is desired, the problem I have is with someone advising AGAINST using lube as though spit is a superior form of lubrication when it IS NOT.

SUDOKU SECRETS
Here are a few things you may not know about me — little habits and compulsions I’ve recently developed:

*I like playing Sudoku while I’m sitting on the toilet, before, during and after a poop (this gives my poophole time to close back up after the gruesome stretching).

*Sometimes I write reminder numbers out of the cube at the end of a row or column to indicate which numbers I have left to use in said row or column. After completing each row or column I *have* to erase the reminder numbers completely and immediately. I like to keep it clean-looking with no distractions.

*After I finish a Sudoku puzzle, I check my answers. If I filled in every square correctly, I mark it with my initials, a star, and the date (all very neat and tidy over to the side). If I filled in squares with the wrong numbers, I circle the bad squares, and claim it with my initials and a frowny face. It embarrasses me that I want to (and almost *have* to) do this, but fuck it. It makes me feel happy and complete, safe in the knowledge that my Sudoku winnings are permanently recorded and date-stamped.

“TALENT NEEDED”
An example of the kinds of emails young barely-employed models get in the mail:

TALENT NEEDED – 8 WEEK VIDEO GAME PROMOTION – SEATTLE, WA
We have a huge program coming up, and need several brand ambassadors to work a 2 month, ongoing promotional event for a YET TO BE RELEASED video game. You will be the first to play and introduce the new game system to the public for the holiday season.

You will not be considered as an applicant without ALL of the following:

1. Full name and phone number
2. Resume or work and promotional bio
3. 2-3 CURRENT photos. Client is looking for a CLEAN CUT appearance, so take that into consideration when submitting photos – friendly smiling faces – no facial hair or piercings.

Having my “model” profile up on sites designed to match models (aka “talent”) with jobs (and doing porn and “modeling” in general) has provided me with insights I don’t think average-looking people are supposed to be privy to.

If not for being recruited as a “model”, I probably would never have realized that the people who stand in the streets and aisles passing out samples of Starbucks’ latest foamy drink concoctions are MODELS. Hired for their LOOKS. All kinds of promotional gigs involving people wearing matching t-shirts like those people handing out free stuff at concerts . . . those people are MODELS. Their “talent” is smiling, looking tan and fit and healthy . . . looking enviably attractive and offering you the opportunity to do or buy or drink something that might make YOU fit into the enviably attractive crowd.

It’s funny that this might never have dawned on me organically without a behind-the-scenes look at it. After all, we’ve all heard of Bud Girls yet I never would have thought similar marketing techniques would be applied to video games, coffee, and cell phones. They don’t want just ANYBODY selling their wares, they want GOOD-LOOKING young people doing it. They don’t look conspicuously perfect or glamorous, but as a group they are younger, fitter, and more attractive than the rest of us marks.

It’s funny that I have never looked at these people doing their street-level marketing and asked myself, “why are all of these people better looking than I?” Or maybe I just assumed those were the kinds of horrid jobs young people without “talent” got. Which is the kind of thing average-looking nerdy girls think about good-looking people; that attractive people are stupid, unskilled and without “talent” (little did I know that “talent” is the industry term given to models and porn whores). I hate to own up to nasty stereotyping or ignorance, but . . . well . . . there it is. BUT I KNOW BETTER NOW!

Of course, we don’t need media literacy or consumer education classes in our public schools, what we need are laws against pornography. Yeah. Good one, America! “Brand Ambassadors” my ass!

Okay — now that I’ve gotten my morning dose of sarcasm out of the way, I have shitloads of work to do.