TastyTrixie.com

Archive for the ‘dog’ Category

We lost power at our house for a couple of seconds today because of the wind; it almost seems freakier when the sun’s out and it’s blowing than if the skies were dark and ominous. Blue skies + windstorms = the pink goth of weather.

Though we live northwest of/near Seattle, the weather is totally different here with a lot less rain. We’re lucky to have big windows facing south so in January and February we can sunbathe naked. Inside, unless you have fur:

I took these pictures in our backyard after going to the store where the power was out. According to the locals I heard talking, part of town was out of electricity because a transformer blew, a tree fell/knocked down lines, AND someone crashed a car into a pole. Our wind is a force to be reckoned with!

Next month we’re planning to spend some time shooting closer to my hometown, in the area where (some of) Twin Peaks was filmed. I really wanted to commission someone to sew a waitress costume to mimic the ones they wore at the diner in the series, but I messed up the specs on the auction I created and didn’t want to pay for something four months in advance of a time that would be too late for the look/time of year I wanted. Maybe next year. For now we’ll try to capture a little of the vibe/local color without being crazily ambitious. Someday I would love to have the resources to get a bunch of our friends and fellow-Peaks-fans together for a couple of weeks to shoot some tribute porn. Someday.

I’ve never been a big fan of snow, but now that I work at home it’s growing on me since I don’t have to drive in it. Living in the Seattle area we don’t get a lot of snow so it’s always cause for excitement around here. It doesn’t usually last long, either, so I’m really happy we had a chance to go out and shoot in it.

The window of opportunity for snowy, seasonal pics is actually still open; it’s been snowing most of today. Here’s a shot of our dog from one of our spycams a few hours ago:

Anyway, the rest of the photos are up for my members and we’ve got two outdoor spycams running today; we’re going to walk downtown through the snow now to run some errands.

Guess what gets the most play on our satellite? It’s the XM channel called Audio Visions playing new age music. We have it on almost all of the time; our dog LOVES it, curls up right next to the speakers and trances out. During the day they sometimes play annoying cheesy crap, but at night they start up with “Night Visions” and this creepy woman with a vampire accent practically whispers interjections like, “in the TOETull dahknessss of nighyyt you sseeeee nahthing but ah beeelliyawn starssss . . . NAHthing but peeeeeeeeace, sweeet peeeeeeeeeissssssse. This is oddyo veezhuns, and you haf nighyyt veezhuns.”

So yeah, we totally love it and daily mimic her pronunciation of Audio Visions, like when we see the longing look in the dog’s eyes and ask, “awwww, do you want your awwjoveezhuns?”

Audio Visions rocks at night when they play spookier, spacier new age music, including delicious programs from Hearts of Space (note: only new age nerds would be oblivious enough to the world to waste an excellent three-letter domain like hos.com on music that once had such a limited audience it could only find space on public radio, but I digress). I’ve bought a lot of new age mp3’s based on play they’ve gotten on Audio Visions that I never would have heard otherwise.

Because Audio Visions, Night Visions and Hearts of Space have been cheap auditory therapy for our household I’m pretty fucking attached to the channel which is why I’m freaking out today upon seeing the channel name has changed to read, “Spa (replaces Audio Visions)”. Does this mean no more Hearts of Space? No more vampires reading poetry accompanied by the sounds of trickling streams, heartbeats and twittering birds?

Of course, it’s possible that it won’t change, or that if it DOES change it will be for the better, though I doubt it if their recent broadcast of a muzak-styled saccharine rendition of a sickly sweet piano tinkling the precious Beatles’ melody “In My Life” layered over ocean waves is any indication of what’s to come. Apparently there’s some kind of Sirius / XM merger going on which I haven’t taken the time to read about but is fucking up almost all of the music we’ve been enjoying via Directv.

Note added Aug. 8th 2010: I just found this interesting post on the Hearts of Space website with more information about XM, Sirius (who recently dropped HOS), Audio Visions and Spa.

This is even more upsetting to me than when Court TV changed their channel name to the criminally deceptive “TruTV” and amped up their programming with even more super-dramatized crime and disaster “documentaries” with titles like, “Most Shocking” cops and robbers high speed chases with fake sound effects dubbed in. I pray for media literacy to be taught in this country, but I don’t hold my breath. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching all of that shit, but it pisses me off when mainstream media gets away with passing skewed misrepresentations of real events as “truth” without disclosing how they’ve distorted it with artifice, bias, and added “production value”.

“TRU” my ass! Maybe they think the stupid spelling is enough to act as a disclaimer: TRU! Not true in any boring conventional sense of the word. TRU! Because you don’t have time to squeeze in all of those letters, much less all the pesky facts! TRU! As much truth as we can squeeze in between ads from our sponsors! TRU! For people who don’t believe in accuracy of reporting OR spelling! I know, I shouldn’t take the misuse of words like “reality” so seriously. I guess I’m just old-fashioned that way, especially when I suffer from the double standards that allow television giants to distort and shit all over essential words in our vocabulary while I am threatened with federal obscenity prosecution and having my payment processing taken away if I dare to tell the TRUTH about my body (that blood comes out of my pussy and that’s totally healthy and I can and should be able to have sex with myself and others while that’s happening). Instead I am forced to misrepresent myself, women’s bodies and sexuality by hiding my period on my porn sites.

Seriously, is my bloody cunt more dangerous than using words like “truth” so loosely?
How irresponsible is it to degrade the meaning of words that are supposed to be the cornerstones of civilized ethics? I do not trust that all people will intuitively recognize the difference between “TRU” and “true”, “reality show” and “reality”, or porn pussy and real pussy.

How did this post arrive here? This is why most of my blog entries wallow in draft mode. I’m going to have to start advertising myself as The Naked Non Sequitur. Except it’s not really true that I’m naked right now or even most of the time just because I’m a webwhore, but I guess it’s TRU enough.

We’re home from our three night beach trek and had a lovely time, even if we didn’t get to see the meteor shower because we had almost continuous grey skies.

I’m not complaining about the greyness — it was super relaxing with the white noise of the ocean paired with the visual fog.

Here’s what we did: drove, ate mostly junk food, WALKED AND WALKED AND WALKED (to the point where our poor old dog was even tired out), shot a few sets of nudey pics, shot photos recreationally, “swam” (more like played in the water like kids letting the waves crash into us) and had a blast last night at the campground roasting hot dogs and marshmallows.

Here’s what I did not do: sleep well.

All in all it was splendid.

*****

Now? I’m pretty tired, but excited to be blogging in bed with MY NEW LAPTOP! I’m going to have to get Zone Alarm (or some other security software: recs anyone?) before I take it places away from home, but I’m super happy to finally have a machine I can blog and write on that’s not a dinosaur or hooked up to cams (though it does have the built-in cam I still need to add/subtract a lot of software and stuff to this machine before I log it in anywhere). Anyway, it’s romantic to finally have a laptop that I can use the way other people use theirs. I doubt you’ll see me haunting coffee shops on a regular basis, but I like knowing I *could* quickly pack up and do some work or even hold chat sessions elsewhere for a change of pace.

I love the smell of new electronic gadgetry. Mmmmmm . . .

We’re heading out to Seattle in a bit to visit my family AND to hook up with some of Delia’s family: a couple of cousins her age and her aunt and uncle visiting from the Midwest. It’s going to be awkward: no one in her family is aware yet that she doesn’t identify as male and is transitioning. She’s going to be in drab, pretending to be a boy.

Awkward.

I would be more than happy to skip it except that I *really* love this particular aunt of hers (I actually really like her whole family; I haven’t met these cousins yet, but I would honestly hang out with this aunt just for fun because I feel comfortable with her).

We’re also boarding our dog which is something we’ve not done the whole time we’ve been together. For awhile we had an excellent dog/housesitter but she moved to California and we’ve not found anyone we trust since. We just had to find someplace for her to stay on this overnighter because it’s summer and we can’t leave her in the car nor can we always foist her on my sister and brother-in-law with their own menagerie including two-year-old more than enough for their small house. Anyway, I hope the “pet resort” is fun for her and not stressful; we’re paying extra for her to have a half-hour of supervised playtime with other dogs which could be a good thing or a bad thing. She deserves some fun, though.

Time to get a move on . . . Delia has donned baseball cap, camo pants, and a Harley t-shirt to disguise her gender identity. It’s kind of funny. KIND of.

We’d *planned* to take a real day off tomorrow, the 4th of July, but instead of that we have to take a buttcrack of dawn trip to Seattle to try to inseminate me. I hate to be an asshole, but I feel like crying because the LAST FUCKING THING I WANT TO DO on the Fourth of July is be on the road. IN THE MORNING. The tension I feel now seems really counterproductive to trying to conceive so I guess I need to try to do some deep breathing or something. I would feel better if I could take a run right now and blow off some steam, but I hurt my foot the other day walking in heels outside for a shoot. Well, actually I was just trying on outfits for a shoot and had to run outside to see what our dog was hell bent on wolfing down: a grenade sized piece of dehydrated poop or something, and my ankles buckled three times in the grass as I ran in my mules to discover that. Since then it’s hurt to put weight on my left foot.

Fucking hell.

This is NOT the blog entry I would like to post for you, it’s just what it is. If I do not get pregnant this time, somebody just take me out and shoot me.

Are you going to tell me to go read _The Secret_ now?

Anyway, I had to cancel my shows on Saturday the 5th because we *might* wind up stuck in Seattle and I can’t put on a good show anyway after this procedure. So maybe we’ll make Saturday our day off. Sort of like normal people have weekends and holidays, only ours will be just one day. Of course, normal people don’t get to schedule massages on the fly the way I did today just after lunchtime, so it’s not like I’m saying I want to be normal or anything. Just bitching, that’s all.

I’m in a funk right now, mostly owing to PMS. The weather has been a bit gloomy; even when it’s sunny out there’s a shadow of oppressive darkness hanging around. See how it’s crushing our dog? Tiny purple weed flowers growing close to the ground. You don’t even feel like stretching.

*****

Here’s the latest on not being pregnant and what we’re doing about it.

*****

How about some movie-talk? We saw Iron Man. We went into it prepared for the bad aspects; it was a ridiculous blockbuster MOVIE-movie, and we needed that for the mindless entertainment factor. I loved the metal King Kong and the flying-against-the-fighter-jets scenes. It was nowhere near a V for Vendetta type of flick, but it’s still special to see a big movie in the theater with a lefty storyline. One annoying detail sticks out in my mind above all others: armpits. Was it my imagination, or were his armpits shaved after supposed months in captivity? If so, gross. That’s the epitome of a fucked-up dose of contemporary unreality.

I definitely think we should all thank our lucky stars Robert Downey Jr. got the title role instead of Cage or Cruise. He’s been wank material for me since I was a teen watching Less Than Zero when James Spader made him get on his knees and suck some cock to pay for drugs. I so wish that scene was hardcore or even just a minute longer (since it wasn’t I relied heavily upon the straight scenes for “inspiration”). I loved Secretary and all, but I’d really rather have seen a long redux of that interrupted BJ scene. Maybe this time it could have been Jake instead of Maggie joining RDJ to perform sweaty, tear-stained head on some large coked-up stallion. Robert, you STILL have the most lickable, greasy eyelids in film. And I will never forget the way you told us you were getting “chubby” in Shortcuts.

If you want a sense of what my days have been like lately, check here.

Here’s one of my favorite pictures that we shot over the past two days:

We rented a room in town for a couple of nights to shoot in, but wound up coming home to sleep both nights. We like being in our own bed at home with our dog, plus we are addicted to stupid shows like American Idol and America’s Next Top Model. I feel a little anxious about getting rooms in town for shoots because people are naturally curious why we would get a room when we LIVE here. It makes me even more nervous when we aren’t actually there all night; I’m afraid we’ll arouse suspicion and wind up on some kind of small-town blacklist. Not that we’re doing anything BAD by hauling lights into their rooms and taking nudey pics of each other, but you never know what people will think (they *have* to wonder why we have so many giant pieces of luggage; it probably looks like we’re going to cut up a body or something).

This morning we actually had to set the alarm in order to wake up early enough to have sex, since I may have ovulated last night and we still had to go pick up our luggage from the hotel this morning and take the dog to the vet. I actually got to stay in bed and stew in the sex juice while Delia took care of all of that. Now? I’m editing a gallery of pictures (represented by the above picture) for members and listening to PJ Harvey.

When I woke up in the middle of the night to pee, I looked for our dog, Nico, before I stepped out of bed; she likes to sleep sprawled out RIGHT NEXT TO ME on the floor so between her and my nightstand, I have to perform circus tricks to get out of bed without stepping on her.

All that was on the floor in Nico’s usual spot was a pillow and a blanket that had fallen off me. Then, because I’m a dipshit, I felt I needed to go looking for her in her dog bed; she wasn’t there either. I found her at the foot of the bed, lying very still (the way most living creatures do in the middle of the night).

I don’t know when it started, but I’ve developed an irrational need to make sure people and dogs are still breathing in the middle of the night. I think I started doing it when Delia was still drinking and then it got worse when my nephew was born. Or maybe it was all those years of my dad being sick and watching him die; seeing how easy it could be to just stop breathing without anyone noticing. Also, Nico is getting old; I think she’s fourteen now. Anyway, I feel compelled to pop out my earplugs and hover to see if the object of my concern is still breathing, getting close to look for a rising and falling chest or the soft sound of exhalations. My loved ones are apt to wake up to my face in theirs, inquiring once I’ve woken them up, “are you alive?” Duh. Are you crazy?

It was hard to see last night, so I put my hand on Nico’s chest. She didn’t flinch or move even a tiny bit. Her thick fur felt cool under my hand. I couldn’t feel ANY movement and feared she wasn’t breathing so I rubbed her a little. NO RESPONSE. It was like she’d been dead for an hour or two! Then her hind legs relaxed a little bit, but I thought it was just because she wasn’t stiff yet and I’d moved her.

I woke Delia up by shrieking, “honey I think Nico’s dead!”

Delia woke up and crawled to the end of the bed as I told her I couldn’t feel her breathing and she wasn’t moving. She gently put her hand on Nico’s chest and belly, too and couldn’t feel anything so she sharply said, “NICO!” and snapped her fingers.

Nico came back to life, then. It was like magic. She lifted her head and shifted her body to a “should I get up now?” position. Delia flopped back to sleep, I went pee, and when I got back from the bathroom I still couldn’t believe Nico hadn’t been dead. I felt like she came back to life just because we love her. She was standing at the foot of the bed looking at me; instead of going back to sleep right away, I held out my hand to her so she would come to me and I stayed awake petting her until she settled down to sleep by me. Her body is so little under all of that fur.

*****

You would think I could stop myself from doing these breath-tests by reminding myself I’m being crazy. No one is going to just die in their sleep, at least not anyone who was perfectly healthy the night before. But I don’t really believe that so the only way I can stop myself is to tell myself if they’re dead, what can you do about it? Just go to sleep and take care of it in the morning. I’m not kidding. That’s the only line of reasoning that sometimes works on my three am head. But mostly I figure there’s no harm in checking so I do. But there IS harm, when I imagine someone’s dead even when they’re alive and make my heart start pounding and wake up other people to verify. It’s embarrassing and weird.

I cannot sleep in the same room as our nephew anymore because I just stay awake listening to him breathing. If I manage to fall asleep, I still keep waking up with compulsions to listen and check. He’s not a tiny baby anymore so the crib death thing isn’t really an issue, I’m just painfully aware of his mortality. His and mine and everyone’s, I guess.