Author Archives: muffybolding

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About muffybolding

Muffy Bolding is a mother/writer/actor/knitter/feminist/withered debutante who likes the smell of asparagus pee, and remains obsessed with the bathroom hygiene of her three children -- despite the fact that they are 23, 19, and 16. She is blissfully married to a cute Jewish boy who looks like Willie Wonka, but remains tragically in love with the dead poet, Ted Hughes. She has the mouth of a Teamster, and her patron saint is Rocco (pestilence relief.) Ms. Bolding lives in Southern California, where she enjoys typing words, making movies, and plucking the rings from the fingers of the dead. She was the co-creator and Editor-in-Chief of the award winning satire zine, Fresno Lampoon, and in between writing screenplays, carnival barking, and savagely threatening her trio of darling larvae with a wooden spoon, she currently publishes the zine, "Withered Debutante." More of her work can also be found in the anthology, "Mamaphonic: Balancing Motherhood and Other Creative Acts", the compilation zine, "Mamaphiles III: Coming Home", as well as in The Cortland Review and hipmama.com. She is currently writing and producing for film and television, and working on a book of essays entitled, "Inside A Chinese Dragon." She has slept around, but not nearly as much as she would have liked.

tie me down and pigeonhole me HARD, baby!

Posted on November 20, 2003 by muffybolding

I am feeling particularly politically incorrect today — and would therefore, in the spirit of all that is irreverent and unholy, like to pose a query along those lines. Ms. and I have lately been discussing those character traits that … Continue reading →

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remember my name

Posted on November 20, 2003 by muffybolding

“Fuck you, Leroy — this was MY audition!” — Shirley Mulholland, Fame (the movie), 1981 R.I.P Gene Anthony Ray

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the mighty have fallen…

Posted on November 18, 2003 by muffybolding

R.I.P., lovely Trees and, many thanks for all you have given. Two Trees “Two trees were born in a hillside grove. One protested, grew strong, her trunk smooth and tall, tucked away from the elements. The other stood unprotected, where … Continue reading →

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carney, garfunkel, linkletter, miller, ashe, godfrey, shaw, c. clarke, the king…

Posted on November 17, 2003 by muffybolding

As of last night, our 12-year-old cheerleader daughter — Anne Katherine — has officially requested that, hereafter…she is to be addressed as “Artie”.

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the stench of redemption

Posted on November 17, 2003 by muffybolding

Upon entering into our bedroom, where my sweet husband is lying and reading The New Yorker: Me: “Jesus Christ, Baby — what is that smell? It smells like shit in here.” He (without looking up from his book): “It must … Continue reading →

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the good news is:

Posted on November 17, 2003 by muffybolding

After discovering this product, my 2003 Christmas shopping worries are OVER, baby. Using my unerring, finely-honed kitsch sensors — which have NEVER failed me — I predict that this little gadget is gonna be the runaway hit of the season…and … Continue reading →

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where have you gone, michael o’donoghue?

Posted on November 15, 2003 by muffybolding

A nation turns its lonely eyes to you. “Living well — and ripping your enemy’s still-beating heart out with your bare hands — is the best revenge.” — Michael O’Donoghue, 1942-1994…writer, wit, and ascerbic, blistering cunt

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the horsemuff of the apocalypse

Posted on November 15, 2003 by muffybolding

My sweet husband is currently lying in bed — all cozied down under our FAB comforter with a heating pad on his belly — reading a biography of Alexander the Great (his most recent historical passion.) I just leaned over … Continue reading →

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garment love

Posted on November 14, 2003 by muffybolding

This poem is so gorgeous. I first read it many years ago — and its message of simple, humble devotion has never left me. It is one very eloquent man’s love poem — to his favorite suit. I dedicate it … Continue reading →

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off with her head

Posted on November 14, 2003 by muffybolding

Someone asked me to post a few of my favorite poems — those that move me, curl my toes, quicken my pulse, bring about a wry smile…allow me to see god. This poem, for example, simply takes the top of … Continue reading →

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