happy place

Inane Muff Fact #633: When I am feeling despondent, bewildered, frightened, or in pain and need to close my eyes and go to “My Happy Place”…one of the places I go to is the living room of Guy and Rosemary Woodhouse’s apartment at The Bramford, circa 1966.

Where do YOU go?

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Let me say, as I verily quiver with righteous anger, that I have fucking HAD IT with the cavalier attitude regarding violence against women in this goddamned country. Make no mistake — violence against women is the most commonly perpetrated act of civil terrorism committed here and all over the world and we need to treat it as such. Retribution needs to be SWIFT and HARSH. Men need to be taught from an early age that it is ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE to EVER lay a hand on a woman with the aim to bully, punish, control, or harm — and this is NON-FUCKING-NEGOTIABLE. I’m gettin’ REAL SICK of hearing new stories every day about women being threatened, attacked, beaten, raped, and murdered…because some WORTHLESS, SOULLESS, PIECE-OF-SHIT, WASTE-OF-SPACE WITH A MINISCULE DICK couldn’t control his own rage and twisted compulsions.

I should not be afraid to walk ANYWHERE at ANYTIME for fear of being assaulted.

My two daughters should not be afraid.

My sisters, friends, and colleagues should not be afraid.

A 16 year old girl in Steubenville, Ohio should not have been afraid.

Mia Zapata should not have been afraid.

Jyoti Singh, Daughter of India, should not have been afraid.

And, now, those six young sorority women at UC Santa Barbara should not have been afraid.

All the nameless, faceless, young women of color — who are apparently without value or worth in their own goddamned country — who disappear or are murdered every single day and whose names we never hear on the evening news because their tragic, anonymous deaths don’t matter to a fucking racist, classist, misogynist culture that certainly didn’t value them in their lives. They should not have been afraid.




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ms. spell

Inane Muff Fact #517: I live in random, exquisite, obsessed, perpetual, inordinate, inexplicable terror of misspelling “misspelling.” In fact, I just double-checked the correct spelling of “misspelling”…and am now going to hit “post” — but not before I check the correct spelling of “misspelling” one last time, just to be safe. Okay, confirmed. Going to hit “post” now. Hitting. Okay, checking. Okay, hitting this time for real. Wait, is that two S’s and one L…or is it two L’s and one S? Or is it two and two? Fuck. YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS. Checking. Again. Okay, posting. Finally. Christ.

Jessuss don’t want me for a sunbeam.

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i love mimi pond!

“Muffy and Mimi, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”


First it was me and Miss Mimi at a FULL NAKIE Korean Spa in Downtown L.A. along with my brilliant muse, Helena G. Harvilicz — and now our next GIRL CRUSH DATE shall be us naked and encased in SENSORY DEPRIVATION FLOTATION TANKS.


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“over easy”!

Which LUCKY Old Hooker has the greatest, sparkliest, most brilliant, most talented gottdamned friends? That’s right, MUTHAFUCKAS:


Here be said Lucky Old Hooker inhaling the latest book from her beloved friend and naked spa comrade — the INIMITABLE writer, artist, cartoonist, illustrator, humorist, and FAB BROAD, Miss Mimi Pond

“Over Easy” is a mostly-true, FULLY-astonishing graphic novel based on her time as a waitress at a…shall we say, COLORFUL and ECCENTRIC diner in Oakland, California named “Mama’s Royal Cafe” during the SINFUL, DELICIOUS 1970s. Can you say BRILLIANT? Can you say EPIC? Can you say, as of two days ago, AT THE TOP OF THE NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER LIST?


Trust me, Mein Poppets — YOU NEED TO READ THIS BOOK. 

Congratulations on your amazing success, Miss Mimi! “Over Easy” is EVEN BETTER and both more hilarious and profound than I could have possibly imagined. I love you, Madge!



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happy birthday, fly girl

You were here.

We remember you.

WE WILL ALL FLARE OUR NOSTRILS and BELLY LAUGH TOGETHER ONCE AGAIN SOMEDAY — and, as always, YOUR ridiculous, delightful, contagious belly laugh will still be the best one of us all.

Love you, Jules. Miss you with all my wicked, wicked heart. All the rest of us will get old and saggy and decrepit — and YOU WILL ALWAYS REMAIN YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL, inside AND out.

In EVERY situation, no matter how tragic, there’s ALWAYS a gift — and that’s yours. Nobody can ever take that away from you now. GET IT, GIRL


Happy 42nd Motherfucking Birthday. I love you forever.

From The Archives:



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bring the spice!

I am just sitting here thinking about the delightful time Gregory and I went to a
parents night thingie at our teenage daughter, Anne’s, AWESOME high school Youth and Government program (with which she is STILL involved, by the way, though now as a big, fancy ADVISOR!)…where the evening’s rules were that each group of kids had to choose one parent to go up and spontaneously perform a song in front of the entire assemblage.

Guess who got chosen and guess whose fatass SHAMELESSLY strutted up in front of several hundred people, threw her hands in the air, tossed a well-placed peace sign, and shouted, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen — I’M SAGGY
SPICE! GIRL POWER!”…and then proceeded to belt the following song a
capella, a performance for which I was fortunate enough to receive not only a standing ovation, but first place for the evening’s festivities.

That was five years ago, and to this very day, I still have young people breathlessly rush up to me in line at Ralph’s to say, “SAGGY SPICE! WE LOVE YOU!”


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I gotta tell you, Mein Poppets…I am just about done with EVERYBODY being offended ABOUT EVERY FUCKING THING, ALL THE FUCKING TIME.


I have a post on deck that I’ve been working on for a couple of weeks addressing not only this, but every other DICK MOVE issue on the motherloving planet…a little post which I affectionately refer to as, “THE ARMAGEDDON POST”, i.e., if/when I post it, HUMANKIND AS WE KNOW IT CEASES TO FUCKING EXIST.

Well, not really…but I guarantee you that a whole lot of the rotting, festering fruit that is hanging on the hanging tree that is my Facebook page will be VAPOR, baby — and that house will be CLEAN.

Can you tell that today all the GOTTDAMNED DOUCHE-LORDS of the world are JAMMIN’ MY FAT FREQUENCIES?

People just need to pull the uptight-Saturday-night tree trunk outta their ass, shut the fuck up with the CONSTANT HIGH DUDGEON, and just BELLY LAUGH LIKE A JACKAL. Quit taking every blithering thing so seriously and just let some shit slide, bitches.

In the words of the brilliant, inimitable Oddball:

“Why don’t you knock it off with them negative waves? Why don’t you dig how beautiful it is out here? Why don’t you say something righteous and hopeful for a change?”

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Inane Muff Fact #626: As definitive testament to my treacherous upbringing and scandalous past, when I am out and about sashaying the town and someone recognizes me and asks, “Excuse me? Are you Muffy Bolding?”, my very first impulse, every single time, is to wonder if they are a) going to arrest me, b) serve me with court papers, or c) SHOOT ME IN THE FUCKING FACE.

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