muffy bolding

And speakin’ about my mother’s cooter…I want Charlie Sheen and that crack-het he’s married to to have yet another baby they can’t take care of and to call it RAINBOW SHEEN.

You know how sometimes when you buy pastrami, if you look at it in just the right light it has that RAINBOW SHEEN on it? Yeah. That rainbow sheen is why I don’t eat pastrami. Well, that and the fact that it looks exactly like my Filipino mother’s vagina.

The way I see it, The Beatles were present at both the birth and death of the idea that was the 60’s. If that single, resounding, earthshattering, opening chord of the film Hard Day’s Night represented its jubilant beginnings…then the words “Helter Skelter” ruthlessly scrawled in blood across the wall of a hilltop home in Los Angeles most certainly signaled its end.

I have always taught my children that you can find god anywhere — sometimes in the most unexpected places.

Wait. Strike that.

ESPECIALLY IN THE MOST UNEXPECTED PLACES.

For example, when I hear Dave Grohl unleash his thunderous, machine gun drumming in the first 20 seconds of Nirvana’s “Breed”, I know, without a shadow of a fucking doubt, that I am in the presence of THE DIVINE. It is breathtaking.

THIS, Mein Poppets, is GOD.

YOU BETTER TURN THIS MUTHAFUCKA UP.

Facebook is just SO fucking wrong on so many different levels. I ask you: would you EVER throw a cocktail party and invite your mother, your boss, your ex-husband’s new wife, your drug dealer, the cousin you made out with when you were 14, your son’s geology teacher, the minister who baptized your daughter, and the guy you drunkenly banged on the hood of his Pantera in 1985 as if you were Tawny Fucking Kitaen in a goddamned Whitesnake video? FUCK NO. And yet, there they all are.

Mamaphonic book tour.

Writers Lli Wilburn, Maia Rossini, Bee Lavender, and Muffy Bolding…at the MIGHTY Atomic Books, Baltimore, 2004.

From the Muffy Bolding “Just Fucking Say What You Really Mean” Files:

In old movies, when a man and woman go back to her place after dinner and she coyly tells him to help himself to a drink while she goes and “freshens up” — what she really means is “You start gettin’ liquored up, motherfucker, while I go squat in the bathtub with some really hot water and a bar of Lux soap so’s I can wash my possibilities.”

In December, Gregory and I spent a grand and glorious evening at Bluestockings Books in New York City, listening to Ayun Halliday and Victoria Law (and others) read and discuss zines, feminism, and girl culture. SUCH complete awesomeness was made even more awesome by the fact that it was snowing outside for the duration. There ain’t nothin’ like snow in NYC. So lovely.

After eating a yummy Chinese food dinner with her afterward, Gregory is — just like the rest of us — smitten with the fabulous writer, zinester, and all around FAB GAL, Ms. Halliday…whom he called, “An interesting combination of goofy and sexy.” And how! Order her books! Read her zines! Follow her exploits! And discover for yourself the Hilarious Hoosier Heinie deliciousness that is Ayun.

The FABULOUS Ayun

From the Inexplicable Life Files of Muffy P. Bolding: Whilst at the MIGHTY Bust Craftacular in NYC in December, NO LESS THAN FOUR separate crafty girls approached me to tell me I look exactly like Exene Cervenka. Other than the red lipstick, the thick waist, and the ever-present cardigan, I find this comparison absolutely baffling.

To all our Knittas out there: If you are on Ravelry — and have a knitting obsession, a foul mouth, and a scandalous soul — please join the group founded there by myself, CJ Arabia, and Kimberly Scott — The Vulgarian Yarn Mafia! We carry sharp, pointy sticks and are planning a hilarious, hostile takeover of the planet. Join us in our revolution, won’t you?

Vulgarian Yarn Mafia