Tuesday, February 28, 2006

I Got Nothing...

I'm happy. There are no other thoughts in my head except that, and I'm afraid if I continue to write about it, you'll all want to vomit. So, sorry, no post tonight, kids.

Have a great day! Regular programming will resume tomorrow.

Get Off My Blog!

I love the internet. Really, I do. I'm so glad Al Gore invented it (ok, it's a bad joke, but I couldn't pass it up). Nearly everything one needs or wants can be found with the click of their mouse. For me, though, the most wonderful thing about the net is the ability to connect with people from all over the world. I've met some pretty damn amazing people over the past few months, and I owe it all to this blog, and therefore, ultimately, the internet.

I've always been curious as to how everyone found me. Of course, some of you came to me through comments I'd left after one of your posts, and yet others of you by kindly links from fellow bloggers. I make it a point to check my sitemeter referral page once or twice a day, though, to see where the rest of my readers come from.

My favorite kind of referral is the random search that brings someone here when they were actually looking for something else. I've kept track for some time now of the engine searches that have come my way. Most of them are usually harmless and funny, and I can usually tell why the search engine (Google, MSN, etc.) pointed them in my direction.

For example:

Downtown Handjobs: This one was obvious enough. It came from the famous blowjob post.

What does popping the cherry mean?: Another obvious one. It's from the post where I discussed losing my virginity.

Things to say when she asks "Do I look fat in this?": This, of course, came from my guide to Woman-Speak.

Like I said before, these are all harmless and funny. The other day, though, I got the shock of my life. I think we all forget sometimes that the internet can also be a useful tool for the sick and depraved members of society. While clicking on a Google search referral the other day, I saw something that made me want to vomit. In the search field were these four words:

Father Daughter Touching Thighs

I kid you not. The words were there, plain as day, and underneath it, amongst a bunch of other sicko shit, was a link to my blog. I was in shock. I knew I'd written the words "thighs slapping" in the post about losing my virginity. I'd also written a post regarding my father and his battle with MS. But NEVER, EVER did those posts cross paths, and there is no way they could ever be misconstrued as being related.

So, I've got something to say to the person who came to Bated Breath via that search. GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG, YOU SICK BASTARD. And remember this...if you EVER come back this way again, you twisted fuck, I'll track you down through your IP Address and make sure you never see the light of day again.

The rest of you, however, are all still very welcome.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Twin Souls ~ A Letter From a Reader

I've received a lot of email in the past few days regarding my recent "Dream" posts. I was actually shocked at how many of you have said you've experienced something similar, mostly because in truth, I though I was crazy for having dreams like that. Apparently, and thankfully, I'm not the only one.

One of the nicest letters I received was from Shell over at TwinFlame :

Hi Trix,

I read your blog and just wanted to ask you about your dream. Do you believe in Twin Souls (Twinflames)? Have you ever heard of the them? Your dream struck me as your twin communicating with you. I believe that our dreams are a part of our existence, not merely unconscious thoughts.

Yes, I have met and connected spiritually with my twin and through my personal experiences, it often takes a third party to point out the connection. The twin relationship is a spiritual one, but your twin (if incarnated at the same time you are) is your "one true love" on earth. Your twin is the perfect other half of you whether incarnated or not.

Best of life to you!


As I explained to Shell in my reply, I honestly don't know how much I believe in the realm of the spiritual. However, the thought that there is someone out there for each and every one of us brings a smile to my face. How wonderful would it be for all of us to experience love in it's purest and deepest form?

So thank you Shell, for giving me something to ponder, and for making me smile.

Wishing all of you happy dreams,


Wednesday, February 22, 2006

The Dream of Him ~ Conclusion...and Happy HNT

I know...the glasses are filthy. So sue me.

As we lay there, bodies still tangled up together, my questions for him had all but faded away. I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and there was nothing that could be said between us that would make me want to leave him.

We talked freely now, like two people who have been together forever...people that truly know the deepest parts of one another. There was more discussion of the future, of love and of life. We kissed in between words...deep and passionate kisses that left his taste on my lips long after they were removed from his.

He smiled at me, and it was at once sweet and devilish. I knew what he wanted before he asked.

"I want you on top of me."

He put his hands on my hips and lifted me up, and in one swift movement, he slid beneath me. I moved each of my legs to either side of him and rested on my knees. I kissed his ears, his shoulders, his chest. I rose up on my knees to let him find me, and then eagerly took him inside me. I took my time with him at first. Slowly moving up and down, I teased the head of his penis. Then deeper, taking all of him in me, until we couldn't tell where my body ended and his began. We came quickly together, and I collapsed against his chest.

When I had finally caught my breath, I sat up, and looked at him. His handsome face was revealed to me whole, no longer hidden by shadows. I bent down to kiss him...to tell him how happy I was to be with him. I curled in to him, satisfied and exhausted, and we lay there for what seemed like hours.

Sunlight began to peek through the shades, and he stirred. He kissed my forehead, gently pulled away from me and stood.

"Where are you going? I asked.

"It's time for me to leave you now."

"But why? I just found you. Why do you have to leave?"

"Baby, you didn't find me. I've been here all along. You just couldn't see me."

"I don't understand."

"Don't you see? I'm the idea of everything you've ever wanted and needed."

"I know you are...so why do you have to go?"

"Because you have to wake up now. I've shown you what you can have, and now it's up to you to find me."

With those words and a kiss, he was gone. I laid there in my bed for a long time. Sadness and confusion consumed me. Hours passed. My sobbing turned to whimpers, and before I knew it, I had cried myself to sleep.


I woke up early, just as the sun was beginning to rise. I was tired, but also restless. It was as though I'd tossed and turned all night, but I wasn't exhausted.

Flashes of images came to me in waves. In my mind, I could see a man's face. He was beautiful and perfect, and he was smiling at me. Even through my morning fog, it was completely clear. Thoughts of hope and happiness filled me.

I walked to the bathroom, started the shower and undressed. I turned and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was smiling, and all I wanted at that moment was to hurry up and start my day. He was out there somewhere, waiting for me to find him, and I didn't want to waste another second.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

The Dream of Him ~ Part Two

I had a million questions for him, each bouncing around in my mind, and the pounding in my head was nearly deafening. I wanted to respond to him, to tell him everything I was feeling. But before I could ask him anything, he had rolled me over on to my side, so that I was facing away from him.

Feather-like fingertips stroked my back, from neck to hips and back again. Soft lips followed, retracing the path of his hands. I felt chills run throughout my entire body. I wanted so badly to kiss him, to taste the lips that gave me such pleasure. I tried to turn over, but he held me tight.

"Please, let me kiss you."

"Not yet. We have plenty of time for that."

I was helpless in his arms...at his mercy, to do with as he pleased. He kissed my neck again, pressing his body ever closer in to mine. He ran his fingers between my legs, touching and teasing along the way. With his hand, he gently lifted my leg, and in an instant, he was inside of me.

There was a grace and easiness to his lovemaking. It was fluid and rhythmic, as if he knew everything I needed and desired, without ever having to ask. He filled me so completely, and I knew without a doubt that someone had made him just for me.

I gasped at the power and strength in which he then took me, at this unexpected and wonderful sensation I was now feeling. Happiness. That was the only thought that came to mind, and it repeated over and over again, even long after we had finished.

Later, as we lay there wrapped in each other, all my questions came flowing back to me. But something in me had changed. There was no sense of urgency anymore. I was confident he'd tell me everything when the time was right.

We began talking again, this time about our passions, our dreams, our hopes and fears for the future. As we lay there in the dark, I couldn't help but think, "So this is what it's like...to be so completely in tune with another person. To be able to share my deepest thoughts without fear."

I moved to roll over, wanting to kiss him, and this time, he didn't stop me. As I turned to him, I realized I could now see more of his face, only partly obscured now by shadows which light couldn't yet dissipate. His eyes. All I could see were his eyes. Dark, yet kind. Little lines and creases shown in the corners, telling me there was sadness there once, but also smiles and joy.

I raised my mouth to him and kissed his eyelids, his soft lashes fluttering against my lips. I kissed his mouth as he held me tightly to his chest. I asked him why he had finally allowed me to kiss him. He bent down and gently kissed my forehead.

"Why? Because you are beginning to understand me."

Monday, February 20, 2006

The Dream of Him ~ Part One

I dreamt last night that a faceless man came to me as I lay in my bed. I wasn't afraid of him. Somehow I knew him, though there was nothing about him that was physically recognizable. He climbed under the sheets and lay beside me. He never spoke.

With a gentle hand, he cupped my breast and ran his thumb over my nipple. Softly, he moved his fingertips down, tracing a line to my navel. At once, he was on top of me, kissing my breasts, my shoulders, my stomach. My hands were in his hair, and my body was responding to him in tremors at his every touch.

I begged him to let me see his face, to let me kiss him, but he simply moved further down my body, silently kissing the deepest parts of me. A bolt of electricity shot through me, and when I had stopped trembling, he came back up and lay beside me.

I could see part of his face now, a hint of handsome features shadowed by the darkness. I wondered how I knew him, this man who had just made me feel like no other man ever could, and I asked him to tell me who he was.

"The details of my life are unimportant. All you need to know is that I'm here for you now."

"But you must tell me something about you. Anything. Tell me whatever you'd like."

So he began...He told me about where he was born, and how he grew up. He spoke of women he'd loved and lost, and of his desire to find his one true love, and he told me tales of far off places.

When he was finished speaking, I asked him why he had come to me.

"Because I knew you would understand me."

Sunday, February 19, 2006

And the Winner Is...

First of all, thank you to everyone for your well wishes. You'll be happy to hear my mouth has gone back to almost normal, and I've discontinued my thoughts of murdering my dentist. It's amazing what a little rest and some solid food can do to improve one's spirits. So, on to the business at hand....

Last week, I posted about a spam e-mail I'd received, and asked for your help in translating it. I received many responses - some thoughtful, some hilarious, and some, well, just plain dirty. All of them were wonderful, but there can only be one winner.

So. without further ado, the winner is....FALTENIN. He obviously put a lot of thought in to his translation, and impressed me with his ability to turn something vulgar in to something beautiful.

Here's the original:


Susie Debby
to me
More options
Feb 7 (2 days ago)

fascinate light motor. happened wife servants.respect rich is we window. bad few whom.shining very end benefit. embarrass motor steps steps latter not?make wanted nothing principle. side corner bought yours? embarrass bad slow love least allow.drew shining similar?

And here's what he created from that:

It's a love letter. Disguised with a cunning title - your boyfriend would never think to check that one. The text is a poem, inspired by Joyce. You have to write it the correct way:

Fascinate light motor.
Happened wife servants.
Respect-rich is we-window.
Bad few whom
Shining very-end benefit.
Embarrass motor steps
Steps latter not?
Make wanted nothing-principle.
Side-corner bought yours?
Embarrass bad slow
Love least allow.
Drew shining similar?

And he continues...

Which translates more or less as:

Fascinated by fast cars,
Collecting women like a harem,
I displayed my wealth for all to see
At the end, how many
Find the final glittering prize?
I can drive as fast as I like,
How closer will I get to happiness?
I leave behind worldly possessions
Embracing your view of the world
Shameful, I have been lost for so long
Love is today the only wealth I desire
Can we wish upon the same star?
Thank you Faltenin, for not only writing so beautifully, but for taking the time to put so much thought in to it. You have my e-mail address...
Come and get your prize!

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Kill Me, Please.

Seeing as how my head is about to explode, brought on by the over-zealous dentist who today decided I needed a big gaping fucking hole in my mouth, I really don't have the capacity to write my name let alone a full blog post. Add to that the fact that I'm fucking starving, because my lips are still numb and I'm unable to get anything solid inside my stomach, thus dropping my blood sugar levels to a near-record low, and you'll understand why you've got one hell of a pissed off Trixie on your hands.

So, I was going to announce the winner of the SPAMALOT contest tonight, but it's just going to have to wait until Monday. I'm sure you're all very disappointed. Read: Neil. Have a lovely weekend everyone, and pray for my speedy recovery - and for the soul of the bastard who made me this way.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Well Smack My Ass & Color Me Happy!

And Happy HNT

I'm in a great mood today, and I don't know why. Not that I'm usually in a bad mood, mind you, but today I'm REALLY happy. Whatever. I'm not going to question it...I'm just going to go with the flow. In honor of my giddy mood (and because I honestly have nothing else stored in my brain at the moment), I've decided to write a list of all the things that make me happy. So, without further ado (and in no particular order) I'd like to present...

A List Trixie's Favorite Things
1. Peanut butter on celery.
2. Clean sheets, fresh from the dryer.
3. The sound of my niece's giggle.
4. Black high-heeled boots. Really, can a girl have too many? I don't think so.
5. Super-sized snowflakes that melt as soon as they hit the ground.
6. A brand new toothbrush.
7. Shaving my legs (I know, it's weird, but it's my list, so fuck off).
8. My fat, happy animals.
9. Missy's blog.
10. Mona. Ok, she's not a thing. She's a person. But you know what I mean.
11. Q-Tips & squeaky-clean ears.
12. A Maker's Mark Manhattan - on the rocks, of course.
13. Orchids.
14. Getting orchids from a great guy.
15. New socks.
16. My car. I love her.
17. Opening Day at Wrigley Field.
18. Listening to Music. LIVE.
19. My family. I said these were in no particular order, so don't give me any lip!
20. A cigarette and an espresso after dinner.
21. Yoga pants.
22. Bulmer's Cider, even though they no longer sell it in The States.
23. My leather-bound journal.
24. Reading This blog and this blog.
25. Brand new make-up.
26. My soft wool blanket.
27. Having someone read to me.
28. Girlie soaps and lotions.
29. Red nail polish.
30. Writing this silly little blog.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Trixie's Guide to Woman-Speak

Let's face it. For men, understanding the inner-workings of the female mind is nearly impossible. At times, we can be incredibly vague, often leaving men searching for the appropriate answer so as not to find their nuts in a vise. On other occasions, we pepper our statements or questions with innuendo, leaving everything open to the males' interpretation.

Male friends of mine are constantly asking me things like, "I don't get it. What did I say that was so wrong?" or "Help me here, Trix. What did she mean by that?" So, in yet another attempt at creating harmony between the sexes, I've come up with this list of common questions women ask and statements we make, and then I've included what they actually MEAN. Ready? Pay attention. You're going to need this one day...

She Says: I don't care. It's your decision.
She Really Means: I want you to do what I want you to do, and if you don't, no blowjob tonight.

She Asks: What are you doing this weekend?
She Really Means: You had better be planning on spending a ton of time with me.

She Asks: Do you think that girl is better looking than me?
She Really Means: If you don't stop looking down the front of her shirt, I'm going to fucking kill you.

She Says: No
She Really Means: No

She Says: Maybe
She Really Means: No

She Says: Yes
She Really Means: If you do everything I ask you to do, then maybe I'll say "yes." Read: NO

She Says: I like sports.
She Really Means: I hate sports, but there's no way I'm going to let you watch the game at a bar with your retarded, disgusting friends unless I'm sitting right next to you.

She Says: Really, I'm not angry.
She Really Means: You had better get me some flowers - fast - before I throw your ass out.

She Says: Don't worry, baby. It's perfectly normal. Really, it was great.
She Really Means: I'm only hanging out with you until someone better comes along.

She Asks: What are you thinking right now?
She Really Means: You had better be thinking of ten different ways to tell me how much you love me.

She Asks: What do you do for a living?
She Really Means: Do you make enough cash to keep me in Jimmy Choo's?

She Asks: Does this make my ass look fat?
She Really Means: Tell me I look beautiful, or no sex tonight.

She Says: Before you, I've only had sex with two other men.
She Really Means: If you don't count giving head.

So there you have it. The truth. Guys, I truly hope it helps you understand women a bit better. But please, if I've missed something here, feel free to ask...

...though I can't guarantee I'll tell you what I really mean.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Dear Mona,

When I started this post, I had intended it to be an angry letter to Doc. But after several re-writes and upon further reflection, I decided that it wasn't the best idea I've ever had. It seems to me that writing "Dear selfish insensitive miserable asshole bastard, How dare you make my best friend cry?" only serves to make me feel better, and it really doesn't change a thing about the situation in which you now find yourself.

I wish with all my heart there was some magical way for me to take away all the pain and confusion you're feeling at the moment. I know, though, that there's nothing I can do except to be there when you need me, and I promise you, I will. Time is the only thing that will heal you, and you can take all you need for that to happen. Lean on me, cry to me...whatever it takes to set you to right again.

I want you to know one thing, though. Your grace, beauty, intelligence and strength have touched the lives of so many people that there will never be a shortage of love in your life. Please remember this in the days ahead, and don't ever be afraid to ask us for our support. Like me, your friends and loved ones will be there for you in a heartbeat.

I'm truly sorry this has happened. I wish nothing for you but a life full of love and happiness. That may seem so far away from you right now, but I know one thing for certain. It's only a matter of time until you find that person who truly deserves you, and who will appreciate all the beautiful things about you that have made me, and everyone who knows you, love you so dearly.

All my love, Trix

SPAMALOT...Translation Needed

I recently received this e-mail in my gmail spam folder:


Susie Debby
to me
More options
Feb 7 (2 days ago)

fascinate light motor. happened wife servants.respect rich is we window. bad few whom.shining very end benefit. embarrass motor steps steps latter not?make wanted nothing principle. side corner bought yours? embarrass bad slow love least allow.drew shining similar?

After getting up off the floor from falling over with laughter at the title, I read the rest of it. Well, at least I TRIED to read the rest of it. What the fuck, exactly, is Susie Debbie trying to tell me? Did she read my post about the man to whom I lost my virginity and feel sorry for him?

So I've decided to ask you, dear readers, to translate for me. I'll post the best response right here on my blog, and I've got a special prize for the winner...

Thursday, February 09, 2006

You Think You Know...But You Have No Idea

I hate O'Hare...why couldn't he have flown in to Midway? I could have parked and been inside already, waiting for the second he walked around the corner from the terminal to greet him properly. I miss the old days, before the fall of 2001, when you could still walk through the terminal and meet someone at the gate. So many smiles and hugs and kisses all around you. It made you feel good just by being there.

But now I'm driving around the airport in circles, a metaphor for what's going on in my head, waiting for him to walk out on to the curb. Will he still want me? Will I still want him? Will all of the buildup prove worth it? And then I saw him...

There's no way I could have missed him. Tall and handsome, no doubt about it. I pulled over, popped the trunk and got out. Deep breath, here goes nothing...and then I saw his eyes and his smile, bright and warm, and in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay. I reached to hug him, and I felt as if I'd melted in to his chest. It couldn't have lasted more than I few seconds, but it felt like forever...like home. The security guard yelled towards us. "No stopping, folks. You have to move the car." If the real world hadn't creeped back in, who knows how long we would have stood there?

The next few hours were kind of a blur. We were at the bar, talking like two people who spent all their days and nights together, but I can't for the life of me tell you what was actually said. My mind kept jumping ahead to later. Those thoughts are still clear in my mind. I wanted to take him out of there, to have him all to myself...to rest my head on his body while he told me the things he'd wanted to say that the distance between us wouldn't allow...to kiss him and tell him everything I'd been holding inside of me.

When we walked out the door, he stopped. He wrapped one arm around my waist, and placed his hand on my cheek, pulling my face to his. An inch away, then a hair's breath, then nothing but his soft, sweet lips on mine. No security guard yelling at us this time, though. It was me, pulling him to the car...

...to take him home.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Half Nekkid Thursday

The New Shoes

Sorry, everyone. I've no time to write tonight. I have to go break these in...

Love, Trixie

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

My Hero

I love kids. Really I do. I'm even considering popping a few out one day. But for the moment, I prefer to spoil them, hop 'em up on sugar and caffeine...and then hand them back to their rightful owners.

There are two rugrats in my life that are my particular favorites: my sister's monsters, Jake and Ashley. Nothing in the world can possibly compare to seeing their smiling faces, playing with them and getting tons of hugs and sloppy kisses...well, except for the strong Manhattan and the cigarette I need after spending a few hours with them. Those are nice, too.

While I love them both equally, I must admit that little boys just crush me...Jake especially. I'm constantly in awe of him. I marvel at his intelligence, and I swear I can almost see the wheels turning in his eight year-old head as he's thinking of his next invention or plotting his next attack. He's far and away the coolest guy I know, so you can imagine how much he stole my heart when he decided he needed to defend my honor...at the age of four.

Jake is 100% boy. He loves masks,capes, swords, toy soldiers, and video games. If there's poop or farting involved, you can be certain he'll giggle at it. Hell, he even sits for hours on end on the toilet reading his comic books. If it's loud, obnoxious or messy, he's in to it, to be sure. Like I said...ALL BOY. With all of that in mind, the whole family even chipped in and got him one of those kid-sized, battery-powered Harley Davidson motorcycles.

That July, my sister and her husband threw their annual Independence Day bash. On average, about 50 guests show up, and that year, my sister asked me to take a child-wrangling shift while she was greeting all her guests. Don't feel bad for me, though. It meant I got to jump in the "Moonwalk" thing she'd rented. Rock on!

So, I'm there, jumping away with my niece and nephew and fifteen other sticky, filthy midgets when I heard, "Trix! Get out of there give me a hug!" Mmm. Dave, my brother-in-law's hottest friend, was beckoning to me. Who was I to refuse his request?

I jumped out & hugged him, and we started talking. Well, actually, he was talking. I was staring at his face. And quite possibly drooling. Unfortunately, the moment ended when my sister walked up to us.

"Trix, have you seen Jake?"

"Yeah. He's in the Moonwalk."

"No he's not. I was just over there. Have you lost my kid already?"

"Well, he can't have gotten far. I've only been out of there for a few minutes."

"Will you go look for him? Grandma L is here an wants to say hi to him."

All of a sudden, I heard a high-pitched whine. It couldn't be...It was! The Harley. And there he was, my darling nephew, coming around the corner of the house, riding his chariot, garbed in his finest super-hero attire. Around his neck, he wore his Batman cape. His swimming goggles covered his eyes. And on his hands, the almighty Power Ranger gloves. With one fail swoop, he jumped off his Hog, wielding his finest plastic sword, and whacked Dave right in the back of his knees.

"Jacob! What in the world do you think you're doing?!?"

He stood there for a moment, his fists clenched and his sword at his side, unyielding in his defiance toward his arch-nemesis of the day. And then my hero spoke.

"Auntie Trix," he said in a voice well beyond his four years. "What do you THINK I'm doing? I'm SAVING you from this guy. I'm saving the WHOLE PLANET! DUH!!!"

No matter how old he gets, I'll always think of him exactly as he was that day. My sweet nephew, protecting me from his evil foe...and the absolute light of my life.

But don't worry...I took plenty of photographs of him. The threat of embarassment can be a very powerful tool. Why pay to have my car washed when I can bribe him in to doing it for free?

Monday, February 06, 2006

The Good Stuff

To Viagra, or not to Viagra ~ that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous impotence or take meds against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.

My family has always relied on honesty and humor to get us through our collective troubles. Nothing is sacred, and no topic has ever been too taboo for us to discuss. We're very open with our affection toward one another, and none more so than my mother and father. Those two really love the hell out of eachother. I think, perhaps, that is why I have no problem writing the things I do. Nothing much embarrasses me, and it's all due to the way my parents raised me.

I know I've written some sad, nay, depressing posts about my father's failing health, but this certainly won't be one of them. For all his problems, he's always been able to maintain his twisted & perverse sense of humor, inevitably making his rapid decline just that much easier on us.

My father takes a lot of medication...A TON, to be more precise. Now, I'm no doctor, so I'm not quite certain what all his pills are for, but it seems like a vicious cycle to me. One medication helps control the numbness, but the side effect is that he has to pee all the time. So he takes another pill to control his bladder, which in turn makes him sick to his stomach. That, of course, means he must take another pill to help with the nausea...and so on and so forth. Like I said, it's a vicious cycle. One horrible effect, though, is worse than the others. For a man, it's nearly akin to a death sentence.

Let me go back a step...

About five years ago, my father met me at my office and took me to lunch. My co-worker and close friend Maria joined us. She was somewhat aware of how open my family and I are with one another, but on that particular day, well, let's just say she got a crash course in the Trixie family business.

My father was describing his latest batch of medications, and the various afflictions they were supposed to cure. Out of nowhere, he said, "You know what the worst part of all this is? I can't get it up for your mother anymore." After performing the Heimlich maneuver on Maria to dislodge the tortellini she was choking on, I asked my father if he had talked to the doctor about Viagra.

"I've got an appointment with him this week."

"Do you think it'll be ok to take it with all the other meds you're on?"

"I don't know, but screw it. If it doesn't, I'm going to stop taking all that other crap. I want to be a good husband to your mother."

Let's all say it together, folks...awwwwww.

About a month later, pops came back & took me to lunch again. I asked Maria if she'd like to join us, and surprisingly enough, she said yes. Actually, I think what she said was, "Are you kidding? There's no freaking way I'd miss out on this!"

There we are, enjoying our salads, and Maria starts elbowing me, whispering, "Aren't you going to ask him? I'm dying to know what happened. Please! Ask him!"

"So, dad...what did the doctor say about the whole 'Viagra' thing?"

"Oh! Yeah!" he said. "I'm on it now. If your mother was pissed before because I wasn't able to get it up, then she really must hate me now. I'm chasing her around the house like a goddamn seventeen year-old!"

And that, my friends, is the GOOD STUFF.

Funny Shit

Since I still feel like ass, I need to rip off other people's ideas. My lovely Mona e-mailed this story to me today, and it cracked me the hell up. I thought I'd share it with all of you. I have no idea where it came from, or if it's all made up, but who cares? Enjoy.

The following is allegedly an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (provides its own heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the
number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it? If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that---since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."


-- An optimist thinks this is the best possible world. A pessimist fears this is true

Sunday, February 05, 2006


I feel like hell. Scratch that. I feel like death warmed-over. If I don't actually die, I'll post more tomorrow.

Love, Trixie

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Showing a Little Support

This is for you, Wizard. Just wanted you to know that I'll be rooting for your guys...mostly because I don't want you to throw up. GO STEELERS!!!

Have a great weekend everyone! See you Monday!

XOXO, Trixie

Popping the Cherry...and Happy HNT

I was seventeen when I lost my virginity. Of course, that's relatively old by today's standards, but I had wanted to wait until I knew it was right. I wanted passion. Moonlight and roses...the stuff of fairy tales that I'd read in the Harlequin Romances I had stolen from my mother's collection. I thought it had to be with someone I loved. That someone was Scotty.

Scotty was nineteen, a hockey player and the older brother of a girl with whom I had trained. He was handsome. Tall and muscular with bright blue eyes and dark messy hair. He had a smile that made me want to take my panties off and hand them to him the very second he graced me with it. And of all the girls at the ice rink, he wanted me.

We dated for months, seeing one another on weekends and holidays when he came home from Purdue. The distance between us only added to the intensity of the situation. Young and foolish, we'd spend countless hours professing our undying love to one another as I hid under my comforter in an attempt to hide the fact that I was on the phone from my mother.

The kisses and the touching were all new to me. I was petrified and exhilarated all at once, and we pushed it a little further every time we were together. First, his hand under my shirt, then later, under my bra. Next a gentle rub over my pants, then suddenly his hands were in them, touching me in a way I'd never been touched before.

He was gentle with me...he moved slowly but with the confidence of a man twice his age. When he finally slipped his fingers inside of me, I felt light-headed. It wasn't until later that I realized I'd had my first orgasm. He never let me touch him, and though I was curious as to why, I was grateful that he took so much time trying to please me. I never questioned it. I just knew I was happy, and that was all that mattered.

That summer, his parents and his sister left on vacation for two weeks. Scotty stayed home because we had decided it was time for us to take the final physical step in our relationship. I remember it was a Saturday, and I had told my parents I was sleeping over at my friend Darcy's house.

When I arrived at Scotty's house, I was blown away. Everything was as I had imagined it should be...soft lighting, candles, flowers and music. He knew it was my first time, and he had worked so hard to make it perfect for me. For me, there was no fear of what was about to happen. His thoughtfulness comforted me and put my mind at ease.

After dinner, he grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom. More candles and music...it was lovely. He undressed me, piece by piece, button by button. I pulled his shirt over his head, and then removed his belt. He gently lifted me and laid me down, my head resting at the foot of the bed. He took off his jeans while I watched, and I can remember thinking how great he looked in his boxer shorts.

He laid down next to me and we began kissing. After I while, I grew restless. I tugged at his boxers, moving them down just far enough so I could push them down the rest of the way with my toes. When they were almost all the way down, he rolled away from me and reached for a condom. I was a bit disappointed at how quickly he'd moved. Other than in pictures, I'd never seen a completely naked man, and I really wanted to take all of him in.

When he came back, he quickly moved on top of me and kissed me again. I moved my legs apart, and he laid between them. I was excited, and happy, and I couldn't wait to finally have him inside of me. And then it happened...

I felt his fingers, and then something else, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. Suddenly he started moving up and down, his thighs slapping against mine. What the hell? What's going on? I said, "Scotty, I want you inside of me. Please don't make me wait any longer."

He said, "I am in you, baby," and just kept going...up & down, up & down, thighs slapping against mine. What the fuck?

And then it hit me. He's small. Very, very small. Like, "I can't feel a goddamn thing" small. That's why he never let me touch him, and why he rolled away from me so quickly. Jesus Christ! Say it ain't so!

So I laid there, head tilted back, watching a muted re-run of Fantasy Island upside-down, listening to Depeche Mode's "Somebody" in the background, until Scotty and his little penis finally finished jack-hammering away at my thighs. To this day, I still have no idea how he came. I sure as hell couldn't feel anything, so how could he?

When he'd finished, he rolled over, kissed me deeply and said, "I love you, baby. That was incredible." I didn't have the heart to tell him what I really felt, so I lied. "Yeah, Scotty. That was great."

I won't bore you with the rest of the details, but needless to say, Scotty and I didn't last much longer. Wonderful as he was as a person, my immature mind couldn't get past the disappointment of that night. I know I hurt him when I broke it off, but even at seventeen, I knew that sex would be an important part of my life. I knew I needed more than what he was capable of giving me.

It was a while before I had sex again. As a matter of fact, I waited until I got to college...and I want to say thank you to John Hess, with his big, beautiful penis for finally showing me what good sex is really all about.