Friday, July 28, 2006

News Flash

THE CHICAGO CUBS SUCK A BAG OF DICKS

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

A Snot-Nosed HNT


Yep, that's me, blowing my nose. I've got a wicked flu. Still managed to get some cleavage in there for you, though. Do you see how much I care about you?

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Putting My Mouth Where the Money Is

A) YES, I meant to say it that way.

and

B) Get your minds out of the gutter! I know what you're all thinking, but no, I haven't become a hooker.

I did my first professional voice-over today. For five minutes worth of "work" (read: speaking), I got paid two hundred and fifty smackeroos. I didn't even have to take my clothes off! Can you say "HOLY SHIT?"

I could get used to this.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Excuse Me, Did You Say 38???

I suppose you could say I'm not a "normal" girl when it comes to the size and shape of my body. I'm not skinny by any means, but I really never worry about my weight. Of course, like every woman, there's a few places here and there that I wouldn't mind toning up, but I've never been one to stand in front of a mirror for hours, fretting over the size of my ass. I don't own a scale, I can rarely be bothered to work out, and while I eat relatively well, I don't deny myself a treat because I'm worried about the extra calories.

In other words, I like me just the way I am. That said, I got a serious shock this past weekend. My apathy turned around and gave me a swift kick in the posterior.

On Saturday afternoon I went to a seamstress to be fitted for a dress. Part of the process required stripping down to my skivvies and having all my "regions" measured. Now, other than buying a bra, I don't ever need to know my measurements. The last time I had them taken I was in my twenties, trying on a bridesmaid's dress with the girls, and we were all drunk. I didn't ask the old Polish lady at David's for them, and she never offered them up.

So on Saturday, Mrs. Malec was doing her thing with her tape measure around my boobs, and all of I sudden, I hear her say, "38."

"Excuse me, did you say 38?", I asked.

"Yep. 38."

"How's that possible? I wear a 34 bra. Maybe a 36."

"That's under the breast, honey. This is across the nipple."

All I could think was, "Oh my God, I'm HUGE."

So, she keeps on working. Waist 28 inches, shoulder-to-nip (yes, this is necessary) 9 inches, hips 38 INCHES??? You've got to be kidding me. Now, when I think about it logically, that's hourglass, baby. When combined with my height (5'7") and weight (130 pounds), those measurements don't seem so large, and I still like me just the way I am. But CHRIST! I guess I just didn't expect to hear those numbers. When I hear 38, I think of Mansfield or Monroe and their fabulous figures, not mine.

I guess my Grandmother was right after all. I do have "good, strong, Italian child-bearing" hips. Too bad they'll go to waste on the likes of me.



Monday, July 24, 2006

Will Be???


I really don't know WHAT to say about this one.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

An HNT In Verse

Brassiere, brassiere
So glad you're not here
The binding, the aching I no longer fear

You see, you bitch
I've found a new friend
The shelf tank has given my misery end.

I bounce, I breathe
I wander and play
Now that your underwire has gone away

If there's anything I'll miss
It's your shape and your lift
But the freedom I feel is a much better gift

So ciao, goodbye
Adios and adieu
There's no way in hell I'll ever miss you.






Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Pure Fucking Brilliance

I'm half-tempted not to post this, because I'm afraid you'll all leave me for her, but it's too goddamned genius NOT to share. Check out this post from Angie over at Blogdiggidy. An e-mail exchange between world super-powers? How in the world does one come up with an idea like this? Nothing I write will ever be this fucking funny, and I'm jealous as hell. Clever girl.

Enjoy!


Love, Trixie

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

It's My Blog, and I'll Break Up If I Want To

I had no plans of addressing this topic for several reasons. First, because it's really no one else's business, and second, because I have a great deal of respect for the feelings of the now ex-BF. Unfortunately, I feel as though my hand has been forced a bit. After some rather nasty comments from someone (Yes, I'm referring to you, Chris from Sydney, at IP address 202.86.116.147, you disgusting fuck. Here's a hint, you coward. Look for a sitemeter symbol BEFORE spewing your venom. I know EXACTLY who you are.) who neither knows me, the ex-BF or our situation, I've chosen to reconsider my position and spill it.

The truth of the matter is this...I fell in love. But falling in love long distance is NOT the same as falling in love up close and personal. All you have are the words shared between you, and those words, when mixed with the desire to be loved, are a potent drug.

Let me begin by saying this, and let it NEVER be misunderstood. He was, and is, a wonderful man. I have not one ill word to say about him, and never will. He is genuine and kind, and capable of giving a great deal of himself. When this began, I knew I was lucky to have him in my life. But as I'm certain most of you know, WANTING to spend the rest of your life with someone, and actually being ABLE to do it are two different things.

You see, because of the distance, we skipped one very important step. We weren't really friends. We were passionate about each other from a short time spent together, but passion and romance does not a friendship make. We didn't really KNOW each other in the all-important, day-to-day kind of way that's necessary for any successful relationship.

Once he was here, it became abundantly clear to me that we are, simply put, different. I realized quickly that I am incapable of giving him what he needs...what he wants. The details aren't important, but the ways in which we express ourselves in person are so wholly opposite from one another, and while I wish I were able to change (trust me, I've tried) for him, the truth of the matter is that I can't. Or won't. Or both. I am who I am, and anything else would be a lie.

I felt that it was important to be honest with him as soon as I was sure of my feelings. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt him. He traveled a long way, and put a great deal of trust in "us." But had I been the one to make the journey, the feelings would have been the same. When something is not meant to be, it's best to speak up and allow the healing to begin. I want it known that I did not come to this decision without a great deal of though, and that I think anyone who insinuates that it wasn't as gut-wrenching for me as it was for him is a complete moron. In the end, this WAS a mutual decision between the two of us.

The beauty of this, though, is that through being honest with one another, that missing friendship has begun to form. We're learning more about one another every day. I enjoy his company, and I value him as a person. And while there's always a part of me that thinks this break-up is a shame, and will probably wonder "What if?" from time to time, I'm certain that I've made the right decision. In the end, isn't that the most important thing one can say?



Monday, July 17, 2006

Fat Kids Piss Me Off

Picture this:

You're walking up a set of stairs. Ahead of you is an extremely obese person, moving slowly, huffing and puffing and holding on to the hand rail for dear life. Every second step he stops, wheezing heavily, taking in as deep a breath as his overworked lungs will allow. His face is red. You know his heart is about to pound out of his chest.

Sad, right? Pathetic, even. Maybe you feel sorry for them. Maybe you don't. Maybe you think that they need to drop the Twinkie. Maybe you think that their pituitary gland isn't working properly. But you DO think about it, and that's my point. EVERYONE takes notice of someone THAT large.

Now consider this:

The person was no more than ten years old, and he was already double my size.

Who is responsible for this? Who do you blame for allowing a child to be that unhealthy? Of course it's possible that this child has an illness that prevents him from being active, or worse, that causes his weight to be so completely out of control. But explain to me, then, why, as I walked around a theme park the other day, I saw such a vast amount of severely obese children? I blame the parents. YES, you read that correctly. THE FAT, LAZY BREEDERS who popped these kids out.

We live in an age of children being raised by the television, the computer and the X-Box. Gone are the days of playing in the back yard with your kid. Why take the time to plan activities for your family when plopping them in front of the old boob-tube will keep them quiet and out of your hair for a few hours? Why not throw in some blue-colored, processed snack and some saccharine-filled soft drink to shut them up while you're at it? For me, it's child-neglect, plain and simple...not to mention cruel.

Now I already know what some of you will say. I've heard all the excuses, and most of them are bullshit.

"I have to work long hours to support them and don't have enough time to play with them every day."

"It's easier to take them out to dinner because I don't have the time to cook."


"My kid is a picky eater."


"My kid would rather stay in and play video games than go outside and play."


"It's too dangerous now to let my kids ride their bike around the neighborhood."


My response to all of these is exactly the same. YOU'RE the PARENT, so ACT like one.

So you work long hours, so what? If you love your child as you should, you MAKE time for activities with them. You don't have enough time to prepare a decent, healthy meal? How long does it take to cook a chicken breast and make a salad? Fifteen, twenty minutes? Your kid only likes to eat sugary, fatty foods? Stop buying the crap and stock up on some fruits and veggies. If their hungry, they'll eventually eat it. Your kid wants to play video games? Limit their time to thirty minutes a day. Think the world is too dangerous for them to go out alone? Get your fat ass on a bike and go on a ride with them!

Some of you may agree with me, some of you don't, and frankly, I don't give a shit. I'm not a parent, and I possibly never will be. But for all the parents of chubby children everywhere, the way I see it is this...what could POSSIBLY be more important than the health and well-being of your child?

My mother has always said that "parenting is a privilege, NOT a right," and I believe that now more than ever.

Monday, July 10, 2006

A Self-Imposed Time Out

Dearest Boys and Girls,

I'm taking some much needed, much desired time off. I'm a bit burnt out on words at the moment. Take care of yourselves. See you in a few weeks. I'll miss you.

XOXOXO,

Trixie


Thursday, July 06, 2006

A Happy Birthday HNT

No, it's not my birthday. But it is an important birthday.
Sixty years ago this week, the bikini started showing up on beaches everywhere.
So in honor of that, here's my bikini HNT.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Brazilian Bitch-Slaps, Transvestites and the 72nd Airborne

Well, I still have my liver after this past weekend. Not because I necessarily want it, but because I got so sick last night that I couldn't drink. Liver 1, Stomach 0. As for the rest of it, I'll re-cap in bullets. (Damn, Pat. I'm ripping you off again.)

- After work on Thursday, we went to Grant Park for the Taste of Chicago. I had the following, in order: Eli's Cheesecake (with strawberries), Sweet Baby Ray's Ribs, fried dough with powdered sugar, saganaki, and corn on the cob. I love the Taste, but man, I'm glad it only comes around once a year. I'd be as big as a house.

Side note: I heard plenty of conversations there that sounded like English, but not quite. At the risk of sounding racist (I swear to GOD I'm not), though, I have to say that I just don't get the point of Ebonics. If it's supposedly THAT close to English, than why not just SPEAK English. We say motherfucker in the Queen's tongue as well.

- Friday night was pretty uneventful. A little scrabble, a few beers and three episodes of the funniest freaking TV show I've ever seen, Lucky Louie. Best line so far? While telling his wife why they shouldn't have another baby, a very broke Louie says, "Your pussy is the gateway to financial ruin." If you haven't seen it yet, get your ass in front of your TV set and turn on HBO right now. I highly recommend it.

- On Saturday morning, we went to the zoo. A couple of interesting points to make here. First: No matter how much work you have done to become a woman, you can never hide the Adams Apple, and if you're pre-op, please do a good tuck-job before wearing a pair of coochie-cutter shorts. Nothing is nastier than seeing someone's nuts squeezed in to a pair of too-tight shorts. That said, her boyfriend didn't seem to mind as much as I did. Second: I don't think I want kids. After being surrounded by strollers and screaming and spontaneous peeing all day, I'm quite certain I've made up my mind. I don't have it in me to be a breeder.

- We had a good time at the bar on Saturday night, even though I worked. My friend from DC was in town, from this point further dubbed the Super Secret Agent, and he brought a solid group of drinkers in to see me. Greatest line of the night goes to SSA while messing with a particularly drunk woman (and Trixie wanna-be) who believed he really was a secret agent. "Yeah, I was in the military. 72nd Airborne." If you don't get that, look it up. I nearly fell over.

After the SSA and company left, the bar died down. Just a few regulars scattered around, playing darts or pool. Hayden, one of my favorite regulars was shooting pool with a friend, when out of the blue, his Brazilian girlfriend stormed in, screamed her bloody head off at him, cracked him, open handed, square across the jaw and then stormed off. The whole bar went dead-silent. When I asked him what had happened, he said that he blew off watching the Brazil soccer match with her and her friends to play pool with his buddy. Later, while talking with some of the regulars, I asked them if they'd also thought her reaction was just a little extreme, one of them said, "Well you know those South Americans. They really love their soccer." The award goes to Tony for the second funniest line of the night.

- Sunday was spent relaxing and having a few drinks with the SSA and company. No crazy shit there, unless you consider a bunch of grown men nearly brawling in the middle of Clark St. crazy.

- Went to work on Monday (yes, I'm employed by Communists) for a half-day, and then the bosses took us all to lunch at the greatest deli in the Midwest, Eleven City Diner. If you live in Chicago, don't walk, RUN there as fast as you can. This place makes me wish I'd grown up Jewish.

I was supposed to meet the SSA & Co. out that night, but the bug I've had over the past few days finally caught up to me. I spent the rest of my evening hugging porcelain.

So that's my weekend, in a nutshell. Tonight is going to be spent protecting my ears from the fireworks my ghetto-ass neighbors have been blowing up since ten this morning. Pray for me people.

Hugs and Kisses,

Trixie

Saturday, July 01, 2006

tink