TastyTrixie.com

Archive for the ‘voyeurism’ Category

On my walk to the bank I found a pair of dirty panties laying on the street by the elementary school in the crosswalk.

They weren’t dirty in a way that indicated a struggle took place while someone was wearing them, just dirty in a way that any discarded fabric would be if it spent time laying in the road. They were pink Hanes Her Way, definitely grown-up panties. A twig was ensnared in them and they were bunched up.

I walked past them quickly in a kind of shock, knowing I wouldn’t want anyone to catch me looking at them, but wanting to just the same. I left them behind, wishing I’d had my camera. I left them behind, but couldn’t stop considering picking them up and putting them in my backpack. I could use the twig to pick them up without touching them, or at least I could say that’s what I did so people wouldn’t know that it doesn’t really freak me out to pick up dead panties out of the street with my bare hands. I could bring them home and justify my strange behavior because I’m a pornographer and some people would like to see these panties I found. Because some of the people who read me online are exactly the people who WOULD have found a way to snatch those panties off the street, or would be jealous of my wild and crazy ability to defy convention and do so.

I’m always fascinated by the private things that are abandoned in public places. Grocery lists, for example. But it’s especially strange and fascinatingly intimate when underwear is discarded. Socks in parking lots. Panties used as toilet paper and dropped in conspicuous store locations. Shoes thrown over telephone wires. Panties on the street. I’m drawn to these things and wonder how they got there, just like I wonder why half the bad boys and girls on COPS are driving and wandering around the streets barefoot (not wearing shoes on the street is a much more significant sign to me that these people’s lives are totally fucked up than the drugs in their cars or their desire to run from the police). Are they leaving their clothes behind to mark their territory? Is it like movable pheromone-filled graffiti? Are they trying to fuck with me/people like me? Or are they just getting rid of things they don’t want anymore?

*****

On the way back home I thought about the place where I left the panties behind and whether or not they’d still be there. They were, and this time I actually stopped and peered down at them. There was blood on them. Not crime scene blood, but natural period-type spots. Did she buy new clean panties? Did she just decide to go without? Did she wonder what people would think when they saw them right there in the crosswalk? Was she laughing when she threw them? Was she alone? Did she get rid of them because she was proud to show them off rather than wash them after they’d already served their purpose? Or did she get rid of them because they disgusted her and she just wanted to leave them behind?

Or maybe someone’s son or younger brother stole them out of the laundry and brought them to the playground to show to all of his friends and they all laughed and threw them around after passing them to each other with grubby fingers wondering what it all meant. Or maybe someone sat in his car by the school late at night and jacked off into them, then threw them out. If he would have been caught he could have to register as a sex offender for committing that act within so many feet of a school. Even though it’s summer and school’s not in session. What was he thinking, throwing them out right there? What is anybody thinking?

Maybe they were just on the top of someone’s laundry basket in the car with the windows down and just flew out on accident.

*****

The panties will be gone the next time I go by there, and I’ll wonder who took them. A concerned mother picking them up with a plastic bag between her hand and the cotton like she’s picking up dog poop? The guy I’ve seen at the playground with a metal detector, scavenging for treasure? The same person who put them there? A lonely teenager in a trench coat taking a midnight stroll? I wish I could watch them do it without anyone seeing me.

*****

There’s a mystery just north of us of severed feet washing up on shore (see story: Retracing the Steps of the Severed Feet). I don’t know why, but I just happened to think of it.

One of them turned out to be a hoax.

*****

Here are a few more blog entries I posted recently:

What Failure Looks Like: Exhibit A

What Failure Looks Like: Exhibit B (in lieu of pics of the street panties)

Two alternative ways of purchasing membership to my site:
microphone = six month membership
laptop = lifetime membership

Rather than go another day without blogging, I’ll share something SUPER COOL that I ran across today: the World Sunlight Map.

It’s so incredibly beautiful to me, this refreshable ilustration of Earth with her cloud cover and shadow over the places where it’s dark. It’s deeply appealing to the voyeur in me, gazing at places where I know we have friends and fans, imagining myself hovering so far away and somehow imagining I can zoom down and know something close about them because I can see whether they are in light or night. I think it’s the shadowy parts that make it feel like there’s some entity out there, even if that entity is just space, potential and a different perspective, and that I’m part of it. It turns the whole concept of “He’s Got the Whole World (in His Hands)” inside out so I feel like we’re offered a vantage point of holding the whole thing in our OWN hands, tiny and precious. So vulnerable to and dependent on light and dark. We’re all in there; it’s wacky and thrilling.

It’s like doing a God role play with omniscience being the ultimate form of voyeurism. As such, I added the World Sunlight Map to a new page for our spycam fans that also includes webcam shots of roads, bridges and ferries that we travel and links to our town’s webcams. I’m guessing a few people will enjoy them even if none of these features are explicitly pornographic. They’re all things *I* enjoy VERY much that give me a strangely different vantage point on my own life and position. My perception of NOW is different looking at that dark wave blanketing my country. It makes me appreciate how temporary the night is, and how I should make full use of it and the daylight because they pass so quickly. You can see each one as it approaches. It’s a slowly moving picture of the passage of time and each of us invisibly under it.

NEW PLAN. For one week a month I’ll be in HYPERCHAT mode. Coming up the first week of June I have multiple sessions of the old favorite News FLASH! scheduled and various chats at different times of day throughout the week. My goal is to spend about fifteen to twenty hours ten to fifteen hours in members-only chat and/or being generally more “entertaining” on the cams. I won’t be scheduling all of those hours, some will be impromptu, but the point is to have a block of five to seven days each month when members will have a good chance to interact with me no matter what timezone they are in.

Current members CLICK HERE for spycams, chat & schedule.
Non-members JOIN HERE for access.

Note: chat sessions are NOT “shows”, they are for CHAT ONLY. I do not take requests or suggestions unless I say so (in News FLASH!, for example) or I am logged in for PRIVATE shows with a viewer paying me by the minute.

*****

I’m really looking forward to this new plan and think it will allow me the freedom I need during the rest of the month to work uninterrupted (without distractions or guilt) on projects that require my concentration for hours at a stretch with the freedom for me to drop everything else when inspiration strikes BUT will still allow me enough focused time to make hanging out with our members a priority.

Balancing different kinds of work is always a challenge for me, and often a fun challenge; it’s always exhilarating to make new plans, tighten up routines, and approach what I’ve been doing for years in a slightly different way. I like letting the spycams be SPYcams, but I also miss spending time getting to know our members and feeling like I’m being at least a little entertaining and accessible. I think allowing myself a hyperchat week each month will be a nice change of pace without ruining other aspects of my work productivity. And of course I think members will like it, too.

Yesterday during one of my chat & masturbation webcam shows, a viewer asked me if I prefer a large or a small audience. I tried to be diplomatic about it, partly because I myself am uncomfortable with the true answer, so I said that there are pros and cons of each (which *is* true, but is not the answer).

The truth is that I prefer big audiences over small ones for group camshows. I either want to do a private show for just ONE person who pays me by the minute OR I want to do a group show for as many people as possible. Even though smaller crowds are almost always more polite, there is still a bigger thrill associated with having lots and lots and lots of people watching me at once.

I know this answer probably sounds contradictory given some of the complaints I have made about doing shows for big groups along with the enjoyment I’ve told you I experience doing shows for smaller crowds; I’m not invalidating anything I’ve said before — those complaints and acknowledgments still stand. But I’ve *also* told you how I love the feeling of immortality provided by having my life/living enlarged by being watched:

Through my porn sites I have attained a degree of immortality. It sounds crazy, but it’s true and it fascinates me. So much of the work I do amplifies and extends my living; I do feel like I’m more alive because so many people KNOW that I’m living, WATCH me living, READ me living, etc. It’s heady, powerful stuff that overfeeds my most basic, primitive survival instincts. Maybe my own instincts have gone off the rails or I’m unwittingly describing the hallmarks of some kind of pathology, but whatever. Some people cheat death through extreme sports to feel more alive, some people have kids, some people perform acts of heroism . . . but I feel more alive simply because a few bloggy book people (along with thousands of men who’ve become erect and spilled seed over my web-graven images) know who I am.

I know it sounds more like cancer of the ego than immortality, but regardless of whether its source is mental illness or the actual attainment of mythological proportions, I *feel* superhuman because of all the people watching me going about life in my bubble.

This feeling isn’t something I experience on a conscious level, it’s primal (which is funny since it happens because of technology). I’m pretty sure it’s the same feeling that drove Evil Men throughout History to invade and conquer neighboring and distant nations and peoples: to have legions of men lined up and standing erect before you, assimilated and saluting you, compelled to stand mutely before you and powerless to leave unless you expel them. It is heady stuff, and you feel it most when you have either *one* person ensnared OR impressively large numbers of them.

This morning when we fucked we were being watched by people on three different spycam networks. I like that. I cannot tell exactly how many people were watching and I wasn’t interacting with any of those people, but I *did* like logging into one of those networks afterwards to find that 84 people were still watching there even after we had been done for ten minutes. I liked seeing that we had more viewers than any other houses. The numbers are small compared to the glory days back when I started exhibiting spycams, but still . . . fucking is even better somehow when there is a number attached to it of anonymous people who witnessed it. The bigger the number, the better it is (as long as those people had to pay an entrance fee of some sort to see it, otherwise it loses its charm).

The same is true of the group shows that do have interaction; I confess it excites me more to see 500-1500 people watching than it does 50. It’s nothing personal; on the contrary — it’s something very IMpersonal. There’s safety in numbers, even though there are always more assholes in big audiences and they have said some terrifyingly offensive shit to me; I feel less of an obligation to each individual person because I think of them more as a *mass* of people. I don’t feel as awkward or self-conscious because there’s a lot of static washing over me in the chatroom. There are also more people to play off of and time passes quickly; even though I find much of what is said is repetitive and obnoxious, it’s just more entertaining than having a few people being really nice to me. And? There’s a massive thrill in NOT doing what A LOT of people WANT me to do. Most of those people come to shows not to chat or to see a striptease, but for immediate graphic sexual stimulation. I spend about 40 minutes chatting and not being sexually graphic. And then when I am masturbating? It’s, ummm, actually pretty boring to watch, I think. I do it virtually the same way in the same position every show without variation except in toys and occasionally asshole versus pussy. I’m not saying my shows are BAD — I think they’re relaxing, funny, genuine, and sexy — but there are other women putting on much more wank-worthy shows: the kinds most people are *expecting* to see. When I don’t give them that and it angers them, I feel flooded with power. I love telling them that if they want to tell me how to masturbate they’ll have to get a private show where they pay me by the minute. If they are good guys, they’ll ask how they can make that happen (and then I thrill at the opportunity to deny them, since I rarely ever do private shows anymore). THE MORE PEOPLE I DENY (or whose expectations I defy), THE MORE I’M THRILLED.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t love it when people love my shows and express their appreciation or that I don’t love civilized conversation — I *do*, it’s just that there is a special thrill that comes with making hundreds of men horny and mad and unable to make me do what they want; I think this might be the only almost-safe platform for deliberately sexually provoking men/”leading them on” where saying no won’t lead to a physical assault or gang rape, and it is BECAUSE I know that what some of those guys are feeling and saying is precisely what many men (maybe even some of the same ones) have said and felt that led them to hurt women in real life that I feel thrilled; maybe a part of me feels that I’m standing at a unique point in history on a unique technological platform that allows me to magically elude the violent attacks I would suffer were I to say the things I say (and do the things I do) in any other place and time; it’s probably the closest I can come to defying death. Oh, and of course there’s also a thrill that comes with hearing a lot of guys tell me they’ve jerked themselves into a creamy frenzy during my shows. It’s the idea of hundreds (preferably thousands) of CRAZED MEN going apeshit bonkers that gets me so psychologically worked up.

Oh, I know those of you who attend my shows are remembering all the times I’ve dismissed the question I’m asked every show of, “how does it make you feel that 457 (or however many people are present in the chatroom) men are jerking off to you?” but the only reason I act disinterested is because it’s technically inaccurate since I know that not *everyone* watching is male and not everyone is watching the show with one hand on their genitals. My problem with the question is mostly the way that it’s worded along with the hope they have that I’ll say something about how WET it makes me; it’s not that I do not get aroused by these thoughts, however I don’t have time or enough stimulation during my shows (especially at the beginning of them, which is usually when someone asks that question) to really fantasize about that. No, the natural excitement I feel regarding those numbers is POWER.

The times I’ve gotten aroused by viewers in group shows have been when guys say something kinky about themselves like the unusual way they’re masturbating (Oh Trixie, I’m just about to cum in my roommate’s shoe watching you!) or confessing something like my best friend
Brad and I have been jack-off buddies since we were 12; I’m imagining he’s here now & we’re watching you together, beating off! or just a number of simple status report like Oh, Trixie! I had to stop stroking my pole and pinch it because I almost came at the sight of your hairy butthole! or even just good old, Unnhhhhhhhjuscameonmykeyboard!. Unfortunately I get way too few of these kinds of remarks during my shows to really rely on viewer input for arousal and the other stuff I *do* hear regularly is often funny, but rarely a turn-on: Do you want my cum? Tell me you want my cum!! Doesn’t work from a random stranger in a crowded room; in a private show or phone sex? That has potential. Will you marry me? I’ll get you pregnant! The ultimate turn-off. Shuttup Bitch! I didn’t come here to listen to you talk philosophy! While I enjoy this for the element of power, it doesn’t arouse me sexually. I know this sounds sick, but it’s an incredible feeling, knowing there are men SEETHING with hatred and contempt for me but they CAN’T make me shut up. Part of me enjoys hearing all of the predictable ugly insults (fat, ugly, old, stupid, etc.), because I know it is a very VERY special thing to sit here and be safe even when faced with confirmation that women are still loathed and victimized in very scary, gender-specific ways.

If asked what size audience DOES sexually arouse me most, I’d refer you back to private shows: ONE viewer arouses me most, one that I’m interacting with who is paying me by the minute to talk to me, tell me what to do and/or to expose himself to me. Private shows and phone sex are extremely sexually exciting to me (because they’re hot, not because I feel like I’m flirting with danger). You want to know a big reason why I don’t do them much anymore? Because they aren’t as private as they used to be when I started camming and doing phone sex. It used to be just me and one other person: the viewer. Now my circumstances and the camsites have changed so much that I have way too many audiences to really get off on it the way I used to; there are people watching me on our spycams, the cam networks have sneak peeks running and archives being captured, I feel self-conscious with Delia in the house, etc. It’s too much exposure for something that used to be hot because it was SO private. That’s actually a subject for another blog entry I’ve been meaning to write for a long time, but I bring it up to illustrate how many different factors there are and yardsticks for measuring what kinds of shows I like doing best and how many people I like watching them (which is why the diplomatic answer IS TRUE; there are pluses and minuses to all of the different kinds of camming I do).

A few people who’ve had phone sex with me or chatted with me extensively are probably aware how much the numbers mean to me on many different levels; it *is* a big turn on to contemplate the numbers and the gallons, the spurts and the jerks of a large population. But the most instant reaction I have to the numbers DURING my shows is a surge of omnipotence more than arousal. The more people watching, the more power I have (and the more I feel I’m cheating death, I suppose).

Last night we had sex almost purely for the fun and pleasure of it (rather than as an obligatory conception attempt). I rubbed some Skin Trip lotion all over my face and neck, then all over Delia’s face and neck. It smelled like a hundred hot, tangled-up memories from the past eight years. We lit candles so the light had the same quality as the light in a million indistinguishable, pleasant past-times. I put on music from albums I’ve had since I was a teenager. I would say that it made me feel young again, but that’s not quite accurate; I think it made me remember that I used to be younger than I am now. It was like visiting myselves from years past. It was sweet.

I was really excited about having my boobs touched through my t-shirt, excited about looking down at them stretching out the thin fabric, watching them being groped and jostled and making the material covering them crease, tighten, tense, release. Excited about having them pressed upwards and jiggled around. I was adamant about having them fondled up to and throughout my orgasm. In the moments before and during, I was thinking about touching this girl’s nipples, imagining both having them as her and touching them as a him. I got off on it, guiltily, because that’s the hottest way for me in my head.

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.

Though the storms interfered with my ability to do shows today, we re-channeled that energy into doing a photo/video shoot involving me in sheer panties sitting astride Delia and giving her (and the camera) a good rear view:

We shot this in our bedroom (nothing fancy) so I decided to turn off the audio on the one bedroom spycam that has it (actually, I didn’t realize it wasn’t even logged in at the time, but the two without audio were still up so that’s good). Some camgirls like to let voyeurs spy on their shoots, but I often have reservations about it. For one thing, I sometimes worry it will spoil the “surprise” of the content when I post it. For another, I think it interferes with the fantasy; when you see all of the awkwardness that goes into a photo/video shoot and/or hear all of the technical components of it I think it’s a mood-killer. There are a lot of interruptions to pause for the camera’s focus, to adjust the angles, to check on the progress to see if it looks halfway like what you want it to look like, to make bossy demands of each other, etc. And that’s just for a very amateur mid-quality shoot.

I know it sounds funny to hear me worrying about destroying “the fantasy” of porn since I make a habit of purposely doing exactly that on our sites by burping, farting, and explicitly reminding people of the boundaries between reality and fantasy (and demonstrating that most of the stuff on our spycams is ugly and/or boring and/or hilarious reality). On the other hand, when we shoot video — ESPECIALLY video I know will be jerk-worthy — I want people to be able to enjoy its hotness without thinking about how we argued over the lighting or how I had to stop for a minute and howl because I got a cramp in my leg or how we struggled for five minutes to engineer our body positions so that the camcorder would have a good view. I do think that stuff is interesting so I don’t always censor these things, but sometimes I just want people to be able to focus on the end result and don’t want to hotness of the product to be compromised by memories of the shoot itself.

In order for the sex video to feel as real and genuine as possible, you sometimes need to censor out the artifice of how it came to be recorded. Sex on tape by definition can never be a completely natural depiction of the real thing; instead you have to decide which very-real, very-hot elements of reality you want to capture and go through a process that eliminates as much of the artificial distractions as possible. We do have funny behind the scenes stuff and a lot of honest portrayals of our work and our selves that expose the artifice instead of pretending it doesn’t exist, but sometimes I just want to wind up with something pure. Something that focuses on things I think are really fucking hot: my ass, sheer panties, cock in my pussy and cum on my butt.

JOIN HERE to access our spycams & complete photo & video archives.

A screen capture from WebWhoreHQ cam (this is what I look like right now):

Don’t my boobs look . . . flat, elongated and shapeless? Don’t I look like a someone with no sense of style who does love the color red and is trying unsuccessfully to have a presentable “look”? Don’t I look like the kind of person who would enjoy contentedly explaining that she doesn’t personally relate to the notion of gender as identity-shaping?

Do I look like I’m living a glamorous life? Do I look like a pornographer/camgirl/webwhore? Do I look like I even have a sexual life?

This would be a perfect moment to blog about a bunch of things I like to mull over and have been thinking about (and experiencing) a lot lately: aspiring to ugliness, aging, shapeshifting, the sexuality of pregnancy, my plans for my future as a working, evolving webwhore, etc. But I’m just going to continue on my contented way back into bed wearing my dorky flannel and fleece, living the good old American life.

I think we’re going to fuck tonight, see.

And I think there’s nothing more provocative or challenging than a woman who appears unsexy or sexless having really fantastic sex, or even enjoying just mediocre, regular sex. And having people pay to watch and listen to her do it. It’s almost revolutionary, I think.

This is what I look like (right now). This is part of who I am. This is more “me” than Trixie in stockings, Trixie in corset, or Trixie in . . . wait a second, Trixie in red dress with white polka dots is as much me as fleece and flannel me is. Dual Trixie.

Haven’t had sex all week except with my hitachi magic wand. Not complaining about that. But am looking forward to a nice roll in the hay tonight. Had wonderful kissing session with trans girlfriend today. I’m very happy.

I wonder how many beautiful women can say the same. I wonder how many of them would envy me versus how many would pity me my life/style.

Just wondering, not guessing. Very capable of amusing myself without reaching any conclusion. I am (and think that I look like) a woman who can amuse herself. Easily. It’s called imagination, bralessness, and a forgiving elastic waistband in my pajama bottoms that allows my mind to wander free from the distraction of discomfort.

STAGE NAMES & TIDBITS

Yesterday I accidentally spoke my legal name (first AND last) aloud over our spycams when I forgot to turn the audio off before making a phone call. Fittingly, the phone call was to our cable company in hopes of fattening our internet pipe so that we can broadcast MORE spycams, faster (so people can overhear even more of the goings-on in our house).

FYI: though I’m not super-uptight about a few voyeurs knowing my legal names, it’s not an invitation for people who know me as Trixie to address me as anything other than Trixie (or “Trix” OR even “stupid ugly cunthole” – even that would be preferable to people puncturing my webwhore bubble by assuming a level of familiarity I’ve not expressly solicited). There are actually quite a few members, past and present, who know my “real” name, and they’ve done a great job of earning my trust by respecting that Trixie is my chosen name for my webwhore-related interactions.

Having said that, there *have* been a couple of times where people used my birth name online to put me in an uncomfortable place trying to show me that they knew something they weren’t supposed to. It was like they wanted me to know I couldn’t get away with “fooling” them. Also, there have been people who are hell-bent on knowing my “real” name, repeatedly trying to drag it out of me; anyone who seems to think he NEEDS to know my birth name is someone I don’t want to have that information. For one thing, “Trixie” is just as real a name to me as the one my parents gave me because I gave mySELF this name. I really detest anyone who acts like the name I gave myself is inherently fake or phony. Plus, someone who doggedly refuses to acknowledge the importance of having a stage name just for privacy’s sake in this industry is someone I don’t want to deal with — they are the people who give whores good reason to protect their identities and keep them separate from their family lives.

Someone trying to convince me to tell him my real name once tried to appeal to my sense of fairness by saying, “but if I join your site, then you’ll know *MY* name and personal information so I should know yours, too!” Wow — and by his logic, when he joins my site and gets to see and hear inside MY HOME, it would only be fair for me to see and hear inside HIS home. Using his rationale I would apparently be justified in using the name and address associated with his credit card to go to his house and spy on him and his family and maybe google his name to find out where he works since, after all, he gets to spy on ME while I am working, right?

Of course not. That way of thinking is ALL WRONG. Anyway, the product I sell isn’t “fairness” — it’s FANTASY. Sure, I pride myself on offering a more authentic and less fictionalized version of the porn fantasy, but I don’t enter into a reciprocal relationship with my customers. It’s not like, “you show me your credit card, I’ll show you mine.” No, it’s an exchange and I set the terms. If private information like my birth name were to be for sale, I would SELL it as such. For like, five million dollars since it would pretty much be a one-time deal because anyone who thinks that information is too juicy for me to deserve to keep it under wraps would probably post it all over the internet anyway and I wouldn’t be able to sell that information again. And because I would want to make the point that YES, I DO think my private information is worth more than yours, and if you’re hell bent on stalking me to get more out of me than I offer professionally, you owe me the kind of money that will afford bodyguards, a nice home security system and a really lovely arsenal.

It’s not that I don’t understand being curious and it’s not that I think that kind of curiosity is pathologically dangerous — it’s not the curiosity that bothers me, it’s the disrespect shown in trying to SATISFY that curiosity. In the example of the guy who thought that since I could look up his real name in my system that he should get to know mine, it’s like he was trying to take me down a peg by getting me to say something like, “gosh, you’re right! What, do I think I’m *better* than you? No, I’m just an untrustworthy whore trying to exploit you with my fake identity and shouldn’t be trusted with your personal information without handing over an even more literal pound of flesh than the ones on display in my members-area. Who do I think I am, using my fraudulent porn persona to extract your personal information? Before you waste twenty dollars to see my life’s work since 2002 I need to make sure we’re even-Steven and I’ve been properly subjugated by your superior will.” These guys with their sense of entitlement scare me, but not enough that I won’t confirm their worst nightmare: YES, I NOT ONLY *THINK* I AM BETTER THAN YOU, I *KNOW* THAT I AM BETTER THAN YOU. How do I know? By your horribly ill-mannered invasiveness, that’s how I know. Oh, and I ALSO KNOW THAT THE VAST MAJORITY OF MY CUSTOMERS ARE BETTER THAN YOU, TOO, BECAUSE THEY DON’T PESTER ME IN THIS SOCIALLY RETARDED MANNER AND EVEN IF THEY DO KNOW SOME OF MY “SECRETS” THEY DON’T TRY TO RUB MY NOSE IN IT.

T I D B I T S

*Good news: Nico (our dog) doesn’t have a tumor; she had weed seeds that burrowed into her skin and became infected and swollen. Apparently this is a fairly common thing that happens to outside-dogs in the summer. The vet extracted the little buggers and prescribed some antibiotics, so all is well!

*Good news: I recently lost a few pounds. Bad news: I think I lost them off of my boobs. I guess that’s what happens when you go off the pill.

*We bought a new printer last week and I still haven’t had a chance to figure out where to put it or even just unpack it and smell it’s new-machine smell. It’s a photo printer, so maybe now we’ll be able to sell 8×10’s (there seems to be a niche demand for autographed 8×10’s of webwhores, fyi).