Wednesday, May 31, 2006

From Now On, I'm Leaving It to the Pros

This is a public service announcement for my female readers. If you get queasy easily, you may want to skip this post.

* * *

With the BF's arrival only a week away, I've been busy shopping and cleaning in an attempt to make his stay here more comfortable. Hell, I've even planted flowers on my balcony. Obviously, I also have to do a few girly things and clean myself up as well. I have to look nice for the boy, right?

Last night, I decided to "prune" my own personal "garden" if you know what I mean. Now, normally, I'd leave the waxing task to my favorite Eastern European esthetician, Sophia. But while walking through the store the other day, I found this:



"What the hell," I thought. "I'll try this myself." Why spend sixty-five smackaroos when I can do it on my own? The packaging promised that the process would be easy and relatively pain free, and the instructions, upon opening the box, seemed easy enough to follow. I've had this done enough, and I've paid attention. There's no reason why I couldn't do this.

So, I plopped the little jar of wax in to the microwave (step one), set the timer for one minute, and dropped trow. When it was done cooking, I stirred the wax until it was smooth and creamy (step two). When I was satisfied that it was the right consistency, I touched it with the tip of my finger to test the temperature (step three). HOLY JESUS! That's hot. I decided to wait a minute and let it cool.

When the temp was bearable, I slathered on the pre-wax oil (step four) and then began the application of the wax (step five) with the small wooden spatula they supplied. Here's a few of the thoughts that went through my head at that moment:

"Christ, this is messy. It's going to suck cleaning this up."

"Shit, it's stuck to my fingernail. Crap, it actually removed the nail polish!"

"OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH!"

I was still feeling relatively confident about it, even though it seemed a bit more difficult than the instructions. So, I waited for the wax to cool (step six) and then flicked up the corner of one of the edges (step seven). I pulled my skin taut in the opposite direction of the hair growth (step eight), counted to three (step nine - I added this step on my own) and pulled (step ten).

"HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD!!!"

What came next was the most excruciating pain I've ever felt in my life. Along with the hair, came part of my skin, and yes, even blood. Worse, the wax didn't stay together in an even strip. So to remove all of it, I had to pull, a piece at a time until all of it was gone, and take more skin along with it.

So this is my plea to you, ladies. DO NOT, under ANY circumstances, buy this product. The packaging LIES, I tell you. It is pure evil, and must be destroyed.

For any men who have been brave enough to read thus far, I hope you realize what pain we put ourselves through to look good for you. As for me and my brutalized skin, I'm going to let myself heal for a couple of days. Oh, and I have an appointment with Sophia on Friday. After this episode, I'll never trust my "garden" to anyone but a professional again. Take that however you'd like.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Stealing a Page

Seeing as how I'm utterly unable to form a cohesive thought today, I thought I'd steal a page from my friend Pat (this is NOT an insult to his writing ability) and jot down some random shit that's floating around in my head.

  • I'm convinced that absolutely NOTHING good can come from wandering the streets drunk at 4 o'clock on a Sunday morning. Driving home from work the other day, I witnessed two fights, one near pedestrian death by a Cadillac and a Jeep smashed in to a light pole.
  • If you're married to someone who works in a bar, it would be wise to NOT get wasted and abuse her co-workers. If you do behave reprehensibly, however, it would be advisable to at least apologize.
  • I haven't had Dr. Pepper in years, and now I remember why. Holy crap, it makes me burp like crazy. What do they put in that stuff?
  • I'm pretty certain Father & Sons Restaurant tried to kill me last night. A word of advice, DO NOT order the Italian Beef. You'll be hugging porcelain all night.
  • I tried out a new grocery store today. I've decided that I prefer my local one better. I'll take dealing with screaming Mexican children over playing bumper-carts with self-important Lincoln Park bitches any day.
  • Still on the subject of groceries, does anyone REALLY cook anymore? Going up and down every aisle, I saw microwavable rice bags (which I must admit, I love), complete meals in a box, pre-cut fruit & veggies, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Meat products, in a box? That can't possibly be good for you.
  • Pure Beech sheets rock. Seriously, it's like sleeping on a cloud. Huge props to Bed, Bath and Beyond.
And finally...
  • What's with these idiots on their cell phones in the bar at 3:00A.M.? Who the hell are they calling, anyways? I've said it before and I'll sat it again...someone better be maimed or dead if you're calling me at that God-awful hour.
Have a lovely Tuesday, everyone.

Monday, May 29, 2006

Happy Memorial Day! Get Wasted!

Memorial Day. A holiday in honor of our veterans' contributions to their country and the American way of life. How do we celebrate it? By gorging ourselves with smoked & BBQ'ed meats and getting drunk on cheap beer. Says a lot, doesn't it?

And yes, I'm cranky today.

Friday, May 26, 2006

A Milestone of Sorts

While checking my sitemeter this morning, I found out that there have been over 50,000 visits to my little piece of cyberspace. I realize, in the grand scheme of things, that it really isn't that much compared to other bloggers out there. But it made me smile nonetheless.

Thank you to everyone who has spent a bit of time with me during their busy days over the past 7 months. I've enjoyed your thoughts, comments and e-mails immensely. I've made some good friends along the way as well, and I'm extremely grateful for what this blog has brought in to my life. I'll try my best to keep on entertaining you, or, at the very least, put up numerous boob and ass shots on Thursdays.

Love, Trixie
XOXOX

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Mathematical HNT

THIS:


PLUS THIS:


PLUS THIS:

EQUALS DRUNKEN SHOTS LIKE THIS:


AND A LATE-NITE RUN FOR THIS:



WHICH IS WHY I FEEL LIKE TOTAL ASS TODAY.
HAPPY HNT.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

I Win the Employee of the Year Award

We had a little snafu with a major client from across the pond last week. Well, actually, we had a HUGE snafu, and when your business is defined by deadlines like mine is, it doesn't pay to fuck up. I spent a good portion of my Monday cleaning up someone else's mess, and the client seemed quite satisfied. Due to the time difference, though, I offered my mobile number in case there were any issues. As unpredictable as technology can be sometimes, I figured it was best to play it safe.

At 7:45 this morning, I heard my phone ring. Realizing that the call had to be from our client (because everyone else in my life knows that somebody had better be dead if they're calling me that early), I leapt out of the shower and ran across the kitchen to grab my phone. Dripping wet. Naked. Without my contacts in my eyes.

For the next twenty minutes I stood in my kitchen, freezing cold, blind, soaking wet and naked, being verbally assaulted by some smarmy British doctor in that tone of voice that only smarmy British doctors seem to have. Do they teach that "I'm totally superior to you, because I'm a smarmy British doctor." tone of voice in med school in the UK? And yes, I'm well aware that I've said "smarmy British doctor" three (not including this one) times now.

Before we hung up our respective phones, I promised said smarmy British doctor that I would take care of the problem immediately, as the program was set to air in less than 3 hours in the UK. I called my boss (who, if I were playing the blame game, would be the person who fucked this all up originally) and told him about the situation. His response? "What do you want me to do about it?"

Motherfucker.

My response was, "I want you to fix this." To which, he replied, "Well, it sounds more like their problem than ours."

Double motherfucker.

"Ok, then, what do you expect me to tell this man, since we've royally fucked this up?" I asked. "I don't know," he said. "Tell him to call me, I guess."

Triple motherfucker.

"So let me get this straight. I've just stood here, naked, wet and blind, getting my ass chewed for the last 20 minutes by someone who, although a smarmy British doctor, has every right to be pissed off at us, and your response is, 'Tell him to call me.' ??? No, here's what you're going to do. Here's his number. You're going to call him and fix this. I'm going to dry off, get dressed, put some make-up on and go to Starbuck's. I'll be a little late this morning. It's in your hands now." And, with that, I hung up.

Oddly enough, I still have a job.




Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Holy Hell! What's That Smell?

It's been an even busier day than usual around here (you know, the REAL job), what with taping season close to beginning and cleaning up other people's messes. I've got too much shit to do tonight, and it's all being pushed back because I'm stuck here at the office until God-Knows-When, so I only have a tiny window of opportunity to write this post.

So, just a quick question for my local readers...Can someone please tell me what the hell that horrific stink was in the West Loop today? I nearly puked up my frappucino while driving to the bank this afternoon. It smelled like a combo of rotten eggs and beer farts. What on EARTH could procure that kind of noxious odor, literally coating the entire neighborhood in stench?

If you live or work in the area, and know where that came from, please, drop me a line. I want to send a thank-you note to the perpetrator(s) for making me want to hurl all afternoon.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Further Proof That Alcohol+People=Idiocy

I love tending bar sometimes. Sure, the fast cash is great, but better still is the huge amount of entertainment I derive from watching people make complete and utter fools of themselves when they're drunk. This Saturday night proved to be one of the most amusing nights to date. So, I'd like to say a personal little thank you to the cast of characters who made me laugh my ass off. You make what I do worthwhile.

To "The Man of Steel":

Hey, listen buddy. I'm really sorry we has to toss you out of the bar, but for some reason, the rest of our clientele doesn't appreciate the beauty that is the "Raging Alcoholic." Personally, I have no problem with someone speaking in tongues and foaming at the mouth. But let's be honest. You really were stinking up the joint, and that is something we simply can't have.

What I don't understand, however, is why you felt the need to run in to the middle of the street to voice your protest against the injustice of your ejection. There really are better ways of solving a problem than getting yourself hit by a cab. I mean, come on! You could have gotten yourself killed, and I know you practically gave Habeeb a heart attack.

I'm glad you're ok, though. I was very worried about you for a moment there. But, you know, I think the limp gives you a little character. It makes you seem, oh, just that much more pathetic. Maybe you can work it in to your panhandling act. A guy like you needs all the help you can get.

To "Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumber":

I know that neither of you are attractive, intelligent or charming, and therefore have no luck with the ladies. I also know that's got to be a crappy way to go through life. But seriously, guys. Do you really think cock-blocking one another all night long over a weepy divorcee on her fifth martini is a good idea? She's wasted, and wants to throw the balls of every man she sees in a vise at the moment. Do the words "lost cause" mean anything to you? But thanks for the giggles nonetheless. It was so much fun to watch.

To "The Coke Whore":

Call me crazy, but I personally think there's nothing attractive about a woman who is so coked and hooched up that you can't stand up straight. That said, it was fun watching you slur your words and hit on men that wouldn't touch you even if they were wearing a Teflon condom. I have a question for you, though. Why do you bother getting all dressed up if you're going to behave like a dime store hooker?

And finally...

To "The Pussy":
Man, I knew you were going to be fun the moment you walked through the door in your RL button down, Dockers and Top-Siders. I nearly peed when I saw you, trailing five feet behind your girlfriend while she chatted on her cell phone, carrying her Banana Republic and Gap bags in your hands. I definitely laughed my ass off when you ran to the bar, asked what kind of chardonnay we have, and then ran back to tell her. But my favorite part was when you tried to pay with your Amex, and I told you we only accept cash. You actually had to run to your prissy bitch to grab what is probably your own cash to begin with. Let me ask you something. Were you born without balls, or did they shrivel back up inside you the day you met her?

I wish you all had been there with me to witness all of this. I swear, every word is true. I'm not talented enough to make this shit up. It almost makes the cash inconsequential. Almost.

Friday, May 19, 2006

For Him


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Thursday, May 18, 2006

Oh, the Hell With It HNT


I've posted pictures of everything from my boobs to my butt here on HNT. Not showing a real picture of me seems pretty much pointless at this stage in my blog. Adios anonymity. So, this is a picture of me (I'm the one in the black) and my dearest friend Mona at the fabulous Johnny O'Hagan's, with her permission, of course.


And once again, with her permission, Mona's ass makes it's first HNT appearance.

Quick, leave a comment before I sober up, realize what a terribly bad idea this is, and tear this post down.

* * *

Lastly, Happy 1st HNT Anniversary. Here's my very first, in honor of the occasion.




Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Yuck

I've had a shitty day. I'll be back tomorrow.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Fill In the Blank

Well, it was another long and boring weekend at the bar. The Cubs got their asses kicked once again, which meant that the pickings were slim as far as good customers go. I had to throw a regular customer out, which wasn't fun, but other than that, both nights were pretty uneventful.

So, as it usually goes on quiet nights, the topic of conversation amongst the few of us there turned to sex. Here's just a random sample:


Talking with two Asian-American regulars and their buddy Ross (the whitest man on the planet), I discovered that both Mark and Kevin have "Reverse Yellow Fever," meaning they're only attracted to white girls. Ross, on the other hand, loves hot Asian chicks. Interesting.


Also, when Ross was leaving, I asked him where he was heading off to. He said, "I'm going home to have sex with Miss Michigan." I've supplied a picture of the State of Michigan. Look closely and you'll understand what he meant. Poor bastard.



Later in the evening, we ended up playing a game called "In My Pants." The object is to start the sentence with an actual movie title, and end it with "in my pants," so that it makes sense. Here was my choice:

"Who's That Girl (bad Madonna movie) in my pants."

John, the doorman's choice:

"Anaconda in my pants."

Got it? Good. Because I want to hear what all of you can come up with. C'mon! I know how creative you guys are. Let's hear it. In lieu of good stories to tell you, I've decided I need you to entertain me. I'll post your responses on Wednesday.



Sunday, May 14, 2006

May 14th, 1971

Her

They all thought she was crazy, but she'd been through this once already. The first time, she did it their way. This time it was on her own terms. It was what she wanted, and no one was going to stop her.

She made it herself. White and sleeveless on top, a pale yellow mini below. The yellow satin sash around her waist was held together with a corsage of daisies, her favorite flower.

She looked beautiful, and she was happy.

Him

He always loved a good suit. Tall men look good in them, and he was no exception. The last time he wore a tux, but this was so much better. He felt more like himself.

It was brown, with yellow shirt to match her dress. The pants even had a bit of a bell at the bottom. His narrow tie matched his jacket. His boutonniere was made of daisies, her favorite flower.

He looked handsome, and he was happy.

They

He watched her walk down the aisle of the small church, her long, dancer legs carrying her confidently towards him. She smiled a smile that he knew was only for him.

They said their vows, surround by a small gathering of loved ones. It was perfect, and exactly as it should be. When the pastor pronounced them man and wife, he smiled and bent down to kiss her. They looked wonderful, and they were happy.

* * *

They were married exactly 35 years ago today. They built a life together, and created a loving home. They have shown everyone that knows them what real and lasting love can be, and they set the perfect example of what a marriage is supposed to be.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. I love you.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Maybe, Maybe Not


I got this in my fortune cookie today. Apparently, I'm about to get what I want because I'm charming and have a great personality. So, if what I've been lead to believe is true, I won't be posting for a while. I'll be:

Sitting on a white, sandy beach at an expensive resort that I now own because I won the lottery, with a pina colada in one hand, a Marlboro menthol in the other, and the boyfriend is sitting next to me, admiring me in my string bikini because my ass is perfect and my cellulite has disappeared, all while eating a pepperoni pizza and a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream because I never gain any weight.

But if this doesn't happen, and I find out this fortune is really bullshit, I'll be working at the bar all weekend, making no money because the other bartender is out of town, it's supposed to be freezing and rainy AND the Cubs suck ass. And then, of course, I'll be posting on Monday.

Either way, have a happy weekend everyone.

Love, Trixie

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Blame It On Mother Nature HNT


Yeah, I know you were expecting shots of me in my underwear, but that's just not going to happen this week. If you read my last post, you know why that is. Happy fat & bloated HNT, y'all.


p.s. I'm fiddling around with putting some music on the blog. Check out the mp3 player on the sidebar. First up...Ryan Adams, Desire.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

My Ovaries, My Enemy

Author's Note: If you're a man, I suggest skipping this one.

I've never been one of THOSE girls. You know the type I'm talking about. The girls with the miserable PMS who bitch and moan are basically rendered incapacitated for an entire week each month because they got their period. I've been, well, at least up until recently, blessed with relatively easy visits from Auntie Flo.

As with everything else, though, getting older changes things a bit. Gone are the good old days. I've spent the better part of last night and today doubled-over with painful cramps, I feel fat and bloated, and I've nearly bitten the head off of every human being who has come within five feet of me. I even chastised the BF last night during an IM conversation for - are you ready for this - responding to something I'd written with a smiley-face emoticon.

I can't handle this much longer. Every month is worse than the one before. I swear to God, if it wasn't for the fact that I want children some day, I'd run to the nearest OB/GYN and have them rip out my ovaries today. Sure, I'd probably grow a mustache and become a baritone, but goddamnit, it would be worth it. You'd still love me with chest hair, wouldn't you honey?

Why can't modern scientists come up with something better than Premsyn PMS or Pamprin to combat this nasty bitch? They've got medications to combat everything from male pattern baldness to irritable bowel syndrome. Why not the menstrual cycle?

I blame it on female scientists. They know that if they create a drug that controls the ugly mood swings, the cramps and the bloating, women everywhere will never again be able to use the "I've got my period" defense. Girls will be expected to jump in the pool in gym class, women will have to be more productive at work, and never again will it be used as an excuse for getting out of having sex. The world would be in chaos!

Well, I call bullshit on that, my friends. I, for one, would gladly give up the right to use the "I've got my period" excuse if it meant I could get in to my skinny jeans every day of the month. Who's with me on this one, ladies? I'll be laying here on the couch in my fat pants, with a heating pad on my belly, awaiting your response.


Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Kamikaze Commenting

I realize that at times I write some pretty out-there shit. Yes, I talk about blowjobs, g-spots and the like. I've even described some pretty erotic dreams. But seriously, folks, at it's most sexual, my blog is more like Cinemax After Dark than the Spice Channel. Sure, you get some full-frontal, but you'll never see the "money shot" here.

Why am I saying all this? Well, I'm still a bit perplexed as to why someone whose never commented before would ask me about my,er, preferences as to where my partner ejaculates. If it had been anyone on my blogroll, I probably would have just laughed and took it as being completely tongue-in-cheek. By now, I know most of their personalities enough to understand the spirit in which their remarks were
made. But then I received an e-mail about it today from Os, the KING of subtlety. He said that even HE wouldn't leave a comment like that on someone's blog.

So, help me here people. I want to understand what would lead someone to believe that asking something like that is appropriate? It was like this person came out of the clouds and just dropped a bomb on this sweet little fairy's head. I mean, c'mon! It's not like I went to his blog first and asked him if he shaves his balls or likes to be anally probed. Is there something about me or what I write that would make anyone think that this is acceptable?

Monday, May 08, 2006

Answers, Answers & More Answers

Holy hell. I had no idea what I'd be getting myself in to when I decided to open up my blog to your questions. Let me tell you, folks, you certainly stuck it to me with some of them! I am a bit surprised at how deeply some of you probed in to my relationship, but then, I suppose I shouldn't be. I have been quite vague when it comes to the details, so I guess it's only natural curiosity on your part. Mind you, none of the questions about him were difficult to answer, and in the end, I'm quite glad you asked. It really only confirmed what I already knew to be true. I'm a happy, lucky, and 100% in-love woman.

As for the rest of your questions, they were funny and thoughtful, and I’m grateful that you all took the time to ask. In the end, I’m glad I did this. I had just as much fun answering your questions as I did reading them. So, without further ado, your answers…

Todd asks:
In a way that won't reveal his identity, tell us how you met the man you are going to move 9,000 miles to be with.
On the internet. And no, not on one of those match.com thingies. That’s as much as I’m giving up. But it is a great story, and some day, I’ll tell it.

What is the one thing in the bedroom that turns you on the most?
That’s easy. My boyfriend. Specifically? The way he kisses me.

pherring asks:
When did you wake up and say "I think I'll bartend for a while?"
It wasn’t a “wake up and realize” kind of moment. I wanted a job where I’d make tons of cash while home from college. I didn’t want to be a stripper, so I chose bartending.

What’s your most favorite drink to make? Least favorite?
If I had my choice, everyone would drink straight booze & beer. BUT, if I have to choose, I’d say my Mai Tai. Gives Bob Chinn’s recipe a run for its money. My least favorite? Fucking Grasshoppers.

Missy asks:
What did you want to be/do when you were a kid?
That changed all the time. Let’s see if I can remember them all. Professional figure skater, actress, doctor, lawyer, teacher…oh, and after seeing Top Gun, I wanted to be a Naval Aviator. But my vision sucks, so my hopes were dashed.

Joe asks:
If you were a tree what kind of tree would you be?
Weeping Willow

If you were a fruit, what neighborhood would you live in?
Boy’s Town, of course! (Unless you live in Chicago, this will make absolutely no sense to you.)

Have you ever been naked with someone from the Circus?
Hey, those records were sealed!

Where did all the Orange Roughy go?
In my belly.

Were there ever any WMD’s?
According to Dick Cheney, yes. And you know he’s always right.

Do you believe that the comparison that a cup of coffee costs 6 bucks at Starfucks makes it ok that a gallon of gas costs $3?
Starfucks. That’s funny. Sorry, what was the question?

Have you ever dropped a man for having bad toenails?
No, but I dropped a man for painting his toenails.

Does your current lover have a goatee?
Actually, yes.

Why did mommy not want me?
Honey, I’m a bartender, not a real therapist. Have a shot and a beer and shut the fuck up.

Anonymous # 1 asks:
You have lovely breasts...are they real?
Yes, and they’re fabulous.

Is the man from Clublife as big an arse as he seems? Not asking you to reveal his identity, I just find it hard to understand how the two of you can be friends.
The truth is, while he can be a pain in the arse, he’s one of the nicest people I know. Remember, what you read on a blog is only a PART of who a person really is. There’s a whole other side to him, just like there’s a whole other side to me. So be nice.

Lovely Lucy asks:
Because, like you, I'm a little PMS-y at the moment - what's your favourite insult?
Calling a sleazy whore a “Cum receptacle.”

Also what are things you would accept a few years ago from boys that you no longer tolerate today? (This is a blatant advice grab)

I really hate to disappoint you here, but I’ve pretty much always been the same as far as what I’ll accept from men. Too much BS and I’m out the door.

Oh and your favourite moment/memory that always makes you smile? (not involving the boy :))
Easy. Watching my grandmother’s reaction to finding her father and mother’s homes in Italy. I’ve never seen someone so happy and grateful.

Oh and how'd you get so cool?
Genetics?

Vegas Vixen asks:
What is your biggest concern in regards to your upcoming move?
Up until very recently, my biggest concern was that I’d get there, and the boyfriend would realize he didn’t really love me after all. Now, I think my biggest concern is dealing with the heat! ;)

Scorpy asks:
Do you work in a sports Bar and serve only wankers that vomit after the local team loses?
The funny thing is, Scorpy, I DON’T work in a sports bar. It’s the least sports-bar like place I know. But yes, lately, all I’ve served are wankers that vomit.

Gus asks:
What generally is a good rule of thumb for tips without seeming like you're trying to schmooze the bartender or flash cash?
Glad you asked, Gus. I subscribe to the “buck-a-beer” policy. That’s completely fair. Now, if you’re buying multiple beers and drinks, 15% of the total is appropriate. If you ask me to make ten fruity-ass martinis in the middle of post-game rush hour, be prepared to either tip big or face my wrath.

Anonymous # 2 asks, and asks and asks some more:
Do you trust the new BF to have told you everything you need to know about his past?
I haven’t asked about his past in specifics, because it doesn’t matter to me. Who he is today is all that matters.

Have you ever been only reliant on a man for money/shelter/company (other than your father) before?
Never. I’ve always taken care of myself. Hell, I stopped leeching of my parents when I was 18.

Will you get married to him just to secure a visa or wait until you have actually spent some real time together?
We’ve discussed this at great length. We want to wait and do it the right way.

Have you ever lived anywhere other than the U.S.?
No, but I’ve traveled a good deal.

How long have you actually known your new boyfriend?
Not very long in some people’s eyes…but long enough to know that this is right.

Without asking him - what do you think he sees in you, other than your physical assets?
I don’t have to ask him. He tells me all the time. Sense of humor, intelligence, passion, common interests, etc. But I’m pretty certain his favorite thing about me is my ass.

What is the longest time you've gone between relationships? The shortest? Have you ever had overlapping relationships?
As for your first two questions, I’ve never kept track. As for your final question, no. At least, not committed relationships. I have casually dated more than one man at a time.

Do you and the new BF have the same ideas about having children, and how they are raised?
Yes, and we were raised very similarly, so that’s another bonus.

Is there anything your BF has asked you to change about yourself, and is there anything you wouldn’t change?
Question one: No. Question two: My boobs?

Where do you stand on divorce?
Never have been, never will be.

Have you ever drastically changed your hair color?
Holy crap! My hair has been nearly every color of the rainbow…including an unintentional and nasty shade of green.

Why doesn't he move in with you? Is his career more important to him than yours or even more important than being with you?
Simple. He has a contract, and I don’t. He’s thought of quitting and coming here to the US, but it’s just better this way for now. He’s also said that if I’m unhappy living there when his contract expires, we’ll move anywhere we want.

How tall are you?
5’7”

How would you feel if you found out he was sleeping with someone else, while you are together in theory but apart in distance? Would it make a difference if it was a casual fling or with someone he actually has feelings for?
Never thought about it, really, because I know he wouldn’t cheat.

Do you have any bad habits that you want to stop/change?
Smoking.

Do you ever wonder if you/he are so fickle that you will fall out of love just as quickly as you have fallen in?
No, I don’t.

Has anyone in your real life tried to talk you out of moving?
Nope. All of my family and my closest friends are totally supportive of it.

Are there any of these questions that you have asked yourself?
Why would I have to? You’ve already asked all of them for me.

DeepItalianEyes asks:
Do you prefer to be come on or in?
If so where?
Well, I can’t think of an appropriate answer for such an inappropriate question, but all I can tell you is that I’ve never been a fan of cleaning up other people’s messes. I hope that answers your question.

Anonymous # 3 asks:
Do you want to have kids? If not now, when/under what conditions?
I’ve always said I’d be happy whether or not I had kids. I’ve never been one of those women who thought I’d feel incomplete without them. That said, now that I’ve found the right person, I can’t imagine not sharing that experience with him. As for when, we’d ideally like to wait a few years. As for under what conditions, well, the truth is, no matter how prepared a person thinks they are, they’re never FULLY prepared for children. So, we’ll take it as it comes, and do the very best we can.

So, there you go. Just a little bit of the woman behind the fairy.

Friday, May 05, 2006

The Woman Behind the Fairy

Auntie Flow is coming to town, and along with her comes the multiple personality disorder more commonly referred to as PMS. Over the past week, you've probably noticed a bit more of the feisty fairy in me than the sweet and lovable person I try to be. I've seen it in my personal correspondence as well. I'm spitting out more vitriol, and less magic dust.

This got me to thinking about my two day-to-day personas, and the differences between them. What you read here on the blog are the feelings and ideas I'm not able to express in my real life. Trixie can call people assholes, and bitch and moan to her heart's content. She can discuss her desires, both physical and emotional, without fear of being looked at as a freak by her peers. She doesn't need to be professional, thoughtful or kind if she doesn't want to be. In other words, she's free to do and say whatever she damned well pleases.

In getting to know her though, you really only know that part of me. Of course you can infer a bit of the real Trix from some of the things I've written, but it's no more than what I've allowed you to see thus far. I get e-mails and comments all the time asking for more details, more information about who I really am. I think it's time I give you those answers. Answers from me...not Trixie.

So, I'm opening this blog up for some serious Q&A. If there's something you want to know about the woman behind the fairy, I'm all ears, and I'll answer as openly and honestly as I can...as long as the questions don't ask me to expose the identities of those I care for and love. Here's your chance, guys. Fire away...this may be your only shot.

NOTE: I'll answer all your questions in a post on Monday.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Lazy as Hell HNT


If you think you've seen something similar to this, it's because you have. Last week, to be exact. This is the second photo in the series of hoochie boots and undies shots. I'm just too damn lazy today to take some new pictures today. Enjoy.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

You're Sorry? You Bet Your Ass You Are.

Sorry folks, but today's post is going to be nothing more than my own personal bitch-fest. If you're offended easily, or work for any of the companies listed below, you can just fuck off...because I don't want you here anyways.

When did customer service become nothing more than empty "I'm sorries?" When did it become ok for people to apologize profusely, yet not get off their fat, lazy asses to solve the problem? When did companies start hiring customer service personnel without any interpersonal skills? When did a customer's rights fly the hell out the window? Have I been asleep while all of this changed? How did I miss it?

Over the past few weeks, I've been forced do deal with countless acts of incompetence, inaction and generally rude behavior from several companies and their employees. I've been flat-out lied to, called a liar, bounced around from person to person and pretty much given the big old middle finger while trying to resolve serious errors on the part of some of my vendors. All I've received are a bunch of empty promises and meaningless apologies. So, I feel the need to send them some apologies of my own.

First, to Dell:
- I'm sorry that your billing department is a bunch of dipshits and can't get your accounting straight, so that I have to talk to no less than two of you fuckers per week to explain your job to you.
- I'm sorry that you have misapplied payments on ALL FOUR of my company's accounts, even though I write you FOUR separate checks, and put the account numbers on them. Silly me for thinking that would help.
- I'm sorry you send our invoices to an address that we haven't occupied for over five years. I've given you our current one at least fifty times. Really, I'd LOVE to give it to you once more.
- I'm sorry for expecting that the large amounts of money we pay you isn't enough to get someone with the slightest amount of common sense to help me. What was I thinking???
- I'm sorry that once our accounts are completely paid off, I'll never buy another Dell again. I'm also sorry that I'm going to tell anyone whose considering buying a Dell about how terrible of a time I've had dealing with you.
- Oh! I almost forgot! I'm sorry that the guy in the "Dude, I got a Dell" commercial was the SMARTEST employee you've ever had.

Second, to Belkin:

- I'm so fucking sorry that I ever bought your piece of shit wireless router in the first place.
- I'm sorry that your technical support center is in FUCKING Bangladesh or some other South Asian country, and that your techs have the thickest goddamned accents I've ever tried to understand. (Sorry, Habeeb, you were trying to be helpful. I just couldn't understand you. You're the only one in that company I don't want to fuck off.)
- I'm sorry that I have to restart my wireless system every damn time I turn my computer on.
- I'm sorry I've called you over ten times in the first two weeks of owning this stupid router in an attempt to make it work.
- This next apology goes to the asshole at Best Buy who sold it to me: I'm sorry I let you talk me in to this piece of junk instead of just buying a longer cable. Screw you, buddy.

Finally, to McCloud USA and SBC (combined):

- I'm sorry that you (SBC) decided to give over control of our phone lines to McCloud without notifying us OR getting our permission.
- I'm sorry that I've been trying to get you to fix line four for a goddamned month now, and you keep passing the buck between each other.
- I'm sorry that you had to send out a technician that was 400 pounds and that he couldn't climb his fat ass up the ladder to reach our phone box.
- I'm sorry that I paid $135 to the outside vendor you told me to get, because you couldn't help me, just to be told that there was nothing he could do until you fixed things on your end.
- I'm sorry that I feel like a freaking ping-pong ball being bounced around between two companies who obviously don't give a rat's ass if their customers are dissatisfied.
- I'm VERY sorry that you're the only real telephone service providers in the area, or I'd switch companies in a heartbeat.

You're all a bunch of asshole, rip-off artists, and you should be ashamed of yourselves. People come to you as customers, spending their money in good faith. The least you could do is make an ATTEMPT to fix the problems you've created. Sometimes, "I'm sorry" just isn't good enough.

I'm going to have a beer or ten now, smoke a pack of cigarettes, and attempt to relax. Have a wonderful fucking day.


Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Not So Proud Today

Unless you live under a rock here in the good old US of A, you're probably aware of the immigration protests held all over the country today. For most of the day, all I could hear was the sound of news helicopters overhead, and traffic, usually a pain in the ass to begin with, was practically ground to a halt city-wide. For what, I ask you?

Now, I don't profess to understand all there is to know about the social and economic effects illegal immigration has on our country, and I'm certain I'll probably catch some flack in my comments section about understanding the facts before I open my mouth. But for me, this issue is pretty simple.

This is a country of immigrants. Each and every one of us, save the Native Americans, has someone in our family that wanted a better life for themselves and their loved ones. Someone who knew that this better life would be found here in America. Is there anyone who doesn't recall the words of The New Colossus?

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
with conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
a mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

When, I ask you did these words become meaningless to us? I refuse to believe that when Emma Lazarus wrote them, she was only referring to those peoples that we, as a nation, deem worthy of becoming Americans. Why is it ok for these people to plant our fields, diaper our children and cook our food, but not ok for them to ask for better working conditions, better pay and the right to do what all of our families came here to do so very long ago?

And, please, for God's sake, can somebody please tell me what is so wrong with opening our arms and borders to those whose only wish is to work hard and be affored the same opportunities that we, as Americans, take for granted. Call me naive if you want, but I still choose to believe that doing the right thing for our fellow man is possible.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Well, That Sucked

Thanks to a well-timed rain shower and The Cubs getting their asses handed to them on a platter, Saturday night totally blew. Outside of one Brewer's fan's pizza-and-beer-filled projectile vomiting, nothing much happened. It was twelve hours of boredom, sore feet and less cash than I make in a normal 9 hour shift. I did get to tell one obnoxious customer to fuck off, though, so the night wasn't a total loss.

So sorry, no fabulous tales of alcoholism run amok, and no annoying customers to make fun of today. I'm tired and cranky, and without the inspiration to write something entertaining enough for myself, let alone any of you.

I did stand in front of the runner up in the Rockstar INXS contest while waiting in line at the grocery store on Sunday. You know, the guy who wrote the song about sitting in a tree with his girlfriend? So there's that. Yeah, I was thrilled too.

Happy Monday, all. Hope your weekend was a hell of a lot more interesting than mine!

Love, Trixie