muffy bolding

Even now, at age 27, it STILL shocks me that I am not married to Woody from The Bay City Rollers.

Nothing makes me happier than a chihuahua in a sling…hanging betwixt my BOSS HOOTERS.

NOTHING.

It’s so odd. When you are auditioning actors in Los Angeles, you see lots and lots of really beautiful, talented people — they’re comin’ in the goddamned window, for chrissake. But I gotta tell you, it’s only every so often that an actor or actress walks through that door who just FILLS THE ENTIRE ROOM WITH THEIR FUCKING PRESENCE. When that happens, it’s a breathtaking thing to experience, I assure you.

It’s so odd. When you are auditioning film actors in Los Angeles, you see lots and lots of really beautiful, talented people — they’re comin’ in the goddamned window, for chrissake. But I gotta tell you, it’s only every so often that an actor or actress walks through that door who just FILLS THE ENTIRE ROOM WITH THEIR FUCKING PRESENCE. When that happens, it’s a breathtaking thing to experience, I assure you.

My friend and colleague, the writer Maia Rossini, with whom I worked on the anthology, “Mamaphonic; Balancing Motherhood and Other Creative Acts”, is one of those women you meet only every once in awhile who, so naturally and without any effort at all, inspire you to live your life more fully. On top of being a really fine writer (READ HER BLOG — it’ll BOWL YOU OVER), she is also a magnificent hostess (I stayed at her home — an absolutely stupefying old ruined and restored farmhouse in Upstate New York — when we were on the book tour for Mamaphonic), a glorious gardner (check out the breathtaking photos on her blog), and she is DROP DEAD GORGEOUS, to boot (ah, the injustice of it all!)

But when you know her, it is very apparent that where she is truly extraordinary is as a mother. Her son, Spike, who I think is 10 now, is one of those little boys you could just sit and talk to all day — so sweet and funny and kind and smart. And two years ago, Maia and her husband, Ryan, decided to add to their family by adopting a BEAUTIFUL baby girl from China. As Maia recounts, they journeyed to that ancient land to meet their daughter, found the other half of the sky — and their lives were changed FOREVER.

(On a selfish note, I do hope Maia plans on writing a book about this journey they are all taking together, as I am first in line to buy it.)

Anyway, that little baby is now a most lovely and LUMINOUS preschooler…and she is known by her Chinese name, Fang Fang (which, if I am not mistaken, is pronounced “Fong Fong”…though I must say I do LOVE the idea of a little girl running around with the name Fang Fang, pronounced the good ol’ fashioned American way. HA!) FF is like a little blossom, burgeoning with life and love and beauty — all with a little help, of course, from her amazing Mama, Daddy, and brother.

I originally saw this remarkable video a few weeks ago — taken during the family’s first few hours together there in China — and almost not a day has gone by since that I have not pulled it up just to silently watch and listen. It is honestly one of my most favorite moments that I’ve ever had the privilege to witness. Be forewarned: it will take your breath away with its profound, quiet beauty. Thanks for sharing it with us all, Miss Maia.

In Maia’s own words:

“Two years ago today we met FF for the first time in an office in Nanjing, Jiangsu.

Except, for this miraculous moment, when I started singing to her – a Chinese lullaby called “Ibiyaya”. The minute I started singing, her head snapped up, she grabbed my hand, looked me in the eyes, and started rocking in time. It was an incredible moment of connection. The first of so many we’d have.”

Beautiful Girl.

So, recently I showed up at Mather Zickel‘s 40th birthday party at the historic and infamous Sportsmen’s Lodge…wearing a black dress, black bob, black shoes, black sunglasses, and red lipstick — and, immediately upon my arrival, the birthday boy sauntered over with a glass of fine scotch to tell me that, standing there in the bright sunshine, I looked like I had just stepped out of a Fellini film.

Goddamnit, I love me some Mather Zickel.

“[I am really good in bed] because I was never pretty. Pretty girls just lie there. Us girls who grew up a little more homely have to try a lot harder. That’s why pretty girls never threaten me — it’s like, yeah, you want to take me on? Take me on. Go for it.” — Courtney Love, explaining why she is such a TREMENDOUS WORLD CLASS FUCKMACHINE

Listen to what I am saying to you now. Put down the Xanax, the crucifix, the straight razor, the bullwhip, the Botox, the Don Julio, the Crisco, the tit-clamps, the Jumbo’s Clown Room frequent flyer card, and the latest issue of Trannie Hands Weekly…and take just five minutes out of your busy schedule of whining and sniveling about your miserable goddamned existence and READ THIS STORY. This may just be one of the greatest things I have ever read IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

THIS IS HOW YOU FUCKING DO IT, my friends.

Okay, and now that I have paid proper respect to the recent story of the tragic stabbing at the Target in West Hollywood…now it’s time for me to keep it real and admit my FIRST ACTUAL THOUGHT after I got the news that everyone involved was going to be alright.

All I could envision was this crazy, Liv Tyler-lookin’ bitch running through housewares and small appliances, stabbing complete strangers with a cheap, store-brand paring knife…and with each slash, screaming, “CLEAN-UP ON AISLE 7!”…”CLEAN-UP ON AISLE 22!”…”CLEAN-UP ON AISLE 12!”

Yes, yes, I know. I’m going to Hell. God, I hope they have Taco Bell there.

Two days ago, a dangerously imbalanced woman lost her fucking mind and began stabbing people with a cheap kitchen knife at the West Hollywood Target store. She managed to slash a total of four random strangers before being subdued by an off-duty LA police officer with a gun in his holster, a soft pretzel in his hand, and a jumbo pack of Huggies tucked under his arm.

Everybody survived, thank the Blessed Virgin…but I just saw this picture of the suspect, Layla Trawick…and I’ll be goddamned if, with a little Coast soap, a bush-trim, and a blow-out…this couldn’t be Liv Tyler.

Let me tell you something, my friends…only in LA do even the most psychotic homicidal maniacs look remarkably like Tolkien Elven nobility…with pillowy lips and the sexiest goddamned overbite you ever saw in your life.

God, I love this city.