On Creepy Fans
Dave: Since quitting, have you had any creepy fan experiences?
Texas: Not creepy. People will come up and say "Texas!" or "do I know you from movies?"..."did you do movies once"..."your pussy's as pink as a pair of ballet shoes." Wait... that is kind of creepy.
Dave: I get that all the time, too.
Texas: It's funny how many times I actually had that happen before I even did movies.
Dave: Is the thought that some obese nerd is likely seeing you naked right now as we speak creepy to you, or gratifying? Or both?
Texas: I absolutely love it. The one thing that never creeps me out is knowing someone is getting off thinking I'm fantastic. And by fantastic, I mean fuckable.
Dave: Even if that person is like 400 pounds and has to prop up the massive flap of flesh over his pubis with popsicle sticks and use a special claw-on-a-pole apparatus to stimulate himself because he can't reach around his own circumference? While watching you?
Texas: I think that if he puts that much goddamn effort into just jerking off, he deserves to get one off every now and again, and if I do it for him ...then sheeeyit, he must have good mofuggen taste.
Dave: OK, how about this one: a guy has just murdered his family in cold blood and decides to see porn one more time before the cops arrive and haul him off to the slammer. So he pops in one of your tapes and does his business, and the SWAT team busts in his door right as he's about to finish, and he wheels around toward the door in surprise and his arcing load lands squarely on the gaping shotgun hole in his dead wife. Still OK?
Texas:That. Would. Be. FUCKING. AWESOME! I'd write him letters in prison. And send him dirty pics, hoping he'd go on some spree in the prison... I'd be forever famous as the porn star that causes murder. Kind of like that news lady whose voice was giving people epileptic seizures. But considering I don't even remember her name now, I guess the novelty would wear off after a while and I'd just have some creepy serial killer waxing his monkey thinking about me. Hmm… no, still cool.
Dave: Out of the following options, try to "draw the line" where enjoyment of your work gets creepy:
A) A fan at home enjoying your work as God intended.
B) A fan enjoying you from the bushes outside your house.
C) A fan waiting for you to leave your house, then sneaking in and jerking off in your shampoo.
D) A fan casually walking up to you on the street and ejaculating in your hair.
Texas: You know, from just these questions I'm gathering that you may, by chance, think a lot about ejaculating into my hair, or possibly someone else's hair... or even your own. Anyway, I'd find them all to be exceedingly funny. I've got a good sense of humor. I'd react as anyone would to someone ejaculating in my hair without invitation: hysterical laughter, which turns to explosive rage and possible murder.
Dave: Do you ever get nostalgic for the porn years?
Texas: Occasionally. I miss fucking some of those people. I mean, when it was good... IT WAS GOOD. I think I remember a lot of the people like I'd remember any good booty call in which I made a ton of money.
Dave: So the nostalgia is more of a sex thing than a money thing.
Texas: Yeah, however... now that I'm thinking about it... I do miss the money. Shit... maybe I shouldn't be shit talking, I might need to get back into it. I have my eye on a fancy purse. HA!
Dave: And what do you miss least about porn?
Texas: Tiffany Taylor's Vagina. And the potential that the next vagina would rival hers.
Dave: So, when Something Awful inevitably starts its porn wing, would you be willing to work pro-bono with Kevin "Fragmaster" Bowen, as a personal favor to me?
Texas: I'd fuck him for you, Dave. I'd do bad things with his nose.
Dave: His vagina can't smell any worse than Tiffany Taylor's, right?
Texas: Amen, brother.
That concludes our interview, but that's not all! Texas, a Something Awful fan herself, said that she'd gladly answer questions from readers. If you have a question for Ms. Presley, send it to [email protected] and I'll pass it along to her and perhaps publish it in the near future.
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
Can't tell a drinking fountain from a urinal? We've got you covered. Brush up on your drinking fountain enthusiast -- or sipper -- vocabulary and learn to talk and swap sips with the best of them.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.