Big Clits and Big Voices

I went on a google adventure and discovered a guy who loves enormous clits and uses the word “hermaphrodite” to describe women endowed with them. That’s his definition of hermaphrodite: women with prominent clits. It was all worth being exposed to his weird-ass opinion, though, because I got to see a photo of Linda Might, “The Queen of Clits”, who I’d never heard of before.

Jesus, I’d love to have myself a three-inch clitoris.

Anyway, I can’t stop thinking about all of this hermaphrodite bullshit and wishing I could grasp EXACTLY what is so fucked up about these rumours (and people’s responses to them) and articulate that fucked-upedness accurately.

I can’t stop thinking about being in our local candle store and hearing three people engaged in a discussion about Ann Coulter in which one person “informed” the other two that Coulter was “born a man”. Yeah, she’s a tranny! The two women gasped, one declared she’d always SUSPECTED as much, the other asked if he was SURE . . . and he WAS. He was SO FUCKING SURE. He insisted it was true. He backed it up with things he’d heard on Air America.

I wanted to interrupt and tell them they were wrong, but went home to check JUST IN CASE. Because there also seems to be something wrong with just ASSUMING those tales are false. Is it a growing acceptance/awareness (or heightened fear/paranoia/continued ignorance) of transgender that fuels these bullshit stories? Is it just a contemporary expression of misogyny / new way to express or justify hatred and disgust of genetic women people find contemptible or disturbingly sexy (ex. Jamie Lee Curtis)? Maybe, but there’s a weird ambiguity about the way a lot of people talk about these urban legends, like teenagers who WANT to believe in ghosts. One part wishful thinking, one part pure bullshit, and another part pure fear.

Standing in the store I mostly just listened even though they said some stupid shit that made me want to say, “HEY — my girlfriend is transsexual; maybe you should watch what kind of moronic crap you let stream out of your mouth in front of strangers.” Instead I called the store after I got home and verified that the Ann Coulter as Tranny story IS INDEED a myth, told them WRONG. But that seemed to miss the point, too. Even if she HAD been born with a dick, that doesn’t explain her away or make sense of her. That knowledge, if it were true and we could attain it, wouldn’t somehow put her in her place the way people seem to want it to.

Oh well. I’m sure more brilliant minds than mine have got this sorted out and published somewhere with a lot of fancy words and complicated double-talk that will never do anything to help make the average American get it. Someday maybe it will all get straightened out, but in the meantime women-who-confuse-us are the new Richard Geres and Rod Stewarts, with bellies full of cow semen and hamsters up the ass. The tabloids have proof that Obama’s birth certificate is a fake, and we think if only someone would publish that photo of an infant Ann Coulter sporting a pre-op malignant penis, we could win this argument!.

Tree Time (PIC) & Technical Difficulties

The good news: yesterday we got out into the woods to shoot a set of pictures (eventually I took this dress off):

milf-y Trixie in the woods

Today I have a set of pictures to post for members of me wearing cowboy boots, which I’m looking forward to sharing.

We also have webcam shows scheduled tonight and tomorrow, as well as a members-only chat.

Now for some of the annoying news:

*One of the webcam networks disconnected our access, but don’t worry, you can still get in a couple of different ways to see Delia‘s show tonight. I will alter the page to tell members how. There are, however, a number of good reasons why my approach to dealing with that problem further are complicated. Not for you to worry about, even though blogging about it would make an interesting read — I’ll have to continue to bite my tongue for a few months or years longer.

*Ever since Twitter got attacked early yesterday, I haven’t been able to tweet as TastyTrixie or SpyOnUs. Not via text/my phone, not on our main cable connection, and not on our DSL connection. For some reason, Delia’s twitter account is working just fine, though. I *am* able to post tweets through, though. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but it’s driving me insane. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve to try to get it working, but honestly – there’s a limit to how much time I can spend dealing with one fucking tribulation at a time.

*When I added more spycams, it broke some of them. The microphone on the NightVision cam (formerly known as “ballroom”) is no longer reliably working, and my alternate method of connection to that cam using a different microphone also mysteriously died even after I tried reinstalling the software and other things. I guess the only solution at this point is to buy another microphone. In the meantime, you can still hear bedroom audio (though probably not as well) on the “MoreBed” and “BedroomDesk” cam. When they’re not crapped out. Which they tend to be at inopportune times.


Anyway, little problems like that drive me batshit. I hate to admit how easily frustrated I get with those little unanticipated pinches of obstacality(?), but I do, especially when I’m in the middle of feeling bogged down and incompetent with larger projects (namely redesigning, like, all of our sites and most importantly helping get off the ground; I feel like it should be easy but all these design projects are just sucking out my life force). But of course as soon as I get through them, maybe we’ll be a few steps closer to being able to HIRE people to do the parts of design we can’t/don’t want to do. At least, I pray to motherfucking god that will be the case.

I plan on enjoying a lovely and orgasmic show tonight, though, and I hope to make a new sexy show music mix to inspire me. See you there?

A Slice of Americana Porno Pie (PICS)

I went on a little field trip by myself today, and happened across this fucktastic hillbilly head shop:

hillbilly firewood and porn store

You can get almost anything there: firewood, dildos, giant bongs, blow-up sex dolls, gay wanker mags (I bought one as a thanks for letting me take these pics . . . and because I really enjoy gay wanker mags), swords, patriotic novelties, and old issues of Playboy that should be in protective sleeves, but instead are gathering dust in layers of MEASURABLE thickness (I *so* wanted to rescue the one with Dolly Parton on the cover).

Even though the place stank of mildew and old carpeting stained with Sheltie poop and pee, I seriously fucking loved it there especially when I heard, then spotted, the fucking police scanner:

police scanner porn

I just have a thing for police scanners. Don’t know why I don’t have one. Anyway, there’s also a stuffed parrot of porn watching out for things along with a dude who worked there (he was kind of cute but I thought it would be asking a bit much to take his picture and post it here):

parrot of porn

There was also a thin, grizzled hang-around guy there who got a little boisterous when I popped in. A couple good-looking, fresh-smelling locals also popped in to get some porn so the place is obviously doing business since I wasn’t there very long. After I left, the hang-around guy wearing the straw cowboy hat followed me back out to my car to say, “boy! You SURE are cute!” then captioned himself by mumbling with concentration, “little hat trick for ya . . .” as he tossed it into the air and juggled it around with a flourish as a special little show for me. Much appreciated, hang-around dude.

Here I am on the security camera, standing basically two inches from the counter. Obviously surveillance is a fetish at this place, which I *totally* understand (and is only one of 100 reasons why I didn’t visit the restroom there):

Trixie at the trailer porn store

All the way home I scripted a movie in my head to shoot there and wished we had money to pay to shoot it (including paying not only to rent the place, but to have it professionally cleaned inside without losing ALL of the personality/flavor). Actually, whenever we make the trip to this particular loggerific town I always wind up using the time on the road to script porno movies. The last one was so funny I kept laughing out loud and confirming for Delia that her girlfriend is a crazy person. She didn’t go with me today, though, so I got to be crazy all by myself and go places she would rather avoid like the hillbilly head/sex shop and this geeky place.

Here are a couple more shots of the joint to give you a better idea of the scope of their patriotism and firewood-selling enterprise:

combo head sex shop

Instead of having the wood bundles stacked in one area, they’ve created a car maze & parking-lot border out of individual bundles arranged in lines, with each bundle labeled with a price and the name of the tree it came from (not name like “Tom” or “Cindy”, but Red Cedar, Douglas Fir, etc.):

patriotic sex shop . . . and firewood

I just enjoy seeing people making a modest and dirty living combining everything they love. Like, FUCK you! I’m going to let my dog come to work with me and rub it’s dirty ass all over the carpet while I get high in the back room and show off my ninja sword to my buddies!! Are you sure you don’t need a cord of wood to go with that? LET’S SPRAY PAINT THE SINGLE-WIDE RED, WHITE AND BLUE!!! GodDAMN I love this country!!

Delayed another Day (PICS)

I wanted to post this update tonight, but I got carried away doing extras so here’s a little preview for members (and non-members) to get an idea of the kind of video I’m posting (just for members) tomorrow:

a hard cock makes Trixie happy

It starts out with some tugging and dick-sucking, then progresses to reverse cowgirl with a cumshot in panties (after some closeups of it going INSIDE me) which is one of my (and my fans’) favorites:

Trixie performs tugjob with knockers hanging

Trixie fucks in panties

I kept manipulating my panties with the cock against my ass even after the cumshot. This little animation doesn’t quite do it justice, but since it’s more than enough for some people to get off looking at, I’ll leave it in simple mode and you have to join to download the actual video (and others like it):

panty cum job


You’ve probably already heard how hot it’s been here in the Pacific Northwest this week; I am on a pretty good roll with exercising semi-regularly, but it’s so hot that I have to make sure to do it early or later after it cools down. Tonight it wound up being later (after an unexpected and annoying troubleshooting session with our most important spycam with nightvision & audio aimed at our bed) which means by the time I did that and showered it was really too late for me to put on makeup and record a vlog for members. Lately I’ve been trying to at least LOOK semi-sexy in the video blogs, so I’ll save that for tomorrow when I hope the makeup efforts will do double-duty for some shoots. Then again, my period will probably come and I might have cramps so who knows . . . valiant efforts will be made, but they might be swatted down by the heavy hand of high humidity.

Alliteration is funny with the letter “h”.

Trixie likes to fuck

Over and Out

Some of you’ve been wondering how our family get-together with my brother went after my agonizing in this post; fortunately, it went fine but I’m still so glad it’s OVER so I can stop stressing out over it.

We made the trek out to my mom’s yesterday and had a fairly nice visit. Sometimes I worry that Delia‘s just receding into the background and that some of that’s my fault, but then it always seems that one person in a couple is the quiet hanger-back. Like my brother’s wife who mostly hung out in the kitchen. Some people are so quiet and pleasant those of us who are more obnoxious just naturally steamroll them.

Anyway, there was no mean-spirited or overt bullshit to be had towards us, though I did wonder when thank you’s for the presents we brought came from the kids and I got all the hugs and thanks why that was . . . because I’m the one who’s actually related to them (though haven’t seen them in eight years, since one was newborn)? Because Delia’s trans? Because I didn’t do a good job of introducing Auntie Delia? Or just because I was the one standing there with open arms, like “HUG YOUR AUNTIE, DAMMIT!” while Delia was behind me on the couch and less accessible/approachable/talkative? And then that firm handshake my brother gave Delia after hugging me goodbye seemed to have an awkward masculine edge to it, but whatever.


On our way home from our family visit we got together briefly with AmberLily and her husband (Tiny aka BigD) who is too witty and well-read for me to get his jokes which mostly seem to consist of teasing us for being Democrats. They go right over my head and I wind up staring at him, completely bewildered, wishing I could keep up. Fortunately he’s nice enough to try to meet in the middle, patiently reminding me, for example, of my Third Amendment rights (so I could understand the joke he was making) even when I obtusely ignored his explanation. Maybe if we got to spend more time hanging out then AmberLily wouldn’t have to try to translate for us, “and now BigD is joking; that was a reference to the obscure blank and blankety blank.” Anyway, I hope I haven’t gotten them banned from their local McDonald’s because I kept saying the “F” word and loudly talking about wet WET pussy, something I’m far more familiar with than our Constitution.

My point is, I love them and BigD should be an internet celebrity.


Normally when we go back to the area east of Seattle where I grew up I’m thankful we don’t live there, but yesterday the summer air was too seductive and familiar for me to not want to have more of it. It smelled heavily of home, especially driving through shady places along rivers. My mom’s yard felt so lush and green and bushy and the porch was so . . . porchy? With the screen door? Our dog looked like she was going to melt right into the cool grass, unlike here where all the grass is dry, short, and totally dead. It smells like saltwater and high wind and dry things where we live, but where I grew up it smells like a humid valley in the summer where every dog bark is magnified – sounds don’t blow away where I grew up. I hate that, but it’s still home.


Little cell phone pic on our way home.


Delia’s putting the finishing touches on the letter she’s writing to her parents who still don’t know she’s trans.

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