muffy bolding

A. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
B. Tag seven people to do the same.
C. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag “whoever wants to do it.

1. I absolutely love grocery shopping. I also love doing dishes and washing and folding laundry –- although I loathe actually putting said laundry away. Mopping a floor is my least favorite household chore. And my main, all-purpose cleaning product? Baby wipes.

2. My favorite car when I was little was a Nash Metropolitan. I was completely obsessed with them, and used to have recurring dreams that I was driving one through the air high over the English countryside. My Grandma Marge had a little aqua and white one that I used to sit and play in for hours when she came to visit. She later sold it to an Ethiopian foreign exchange student for $60. I have never forgiven her for it.

3. I have never been lonely for one second of my life; I don’t even understand the concept.

4. I have never been shy for one second of my life; I don’t even understand the concept.

5. I am positively obsessed with left-handed men; if you are male and left-handed, you’ve definitely got my attention. If you’re male, left-handed, and hung like a Clydesdale…please tell the concierge to have you shaved down and brought to my room.

6. Whenever I go to the post office to pick up my mail, I always always always look for the Jack Chick religious tract booklets that some local fundie dolt occasionally leaves on the counter, apparently hoping to miraculously convert demonic bastards such as myself in a postal setting. I am genuinely disappointed when I don’t find one.

7. You know how sometimes a friend shows you a picture of themselves when they were little…and it looks nothing at all like them? Well, I am one of those people who look exactly like I did when I was five.

And yeah, yeah, yeah, I read the goddamned memery rules and I still say…do it if you want — and if not (wait for it…)

Fuck off, lady.

“Do not fear me, gypsy…all I want from you is your tears.”

Words I absolutely live by: “I try to always come from a place of love. But sometimes you just got to break it down for a motherfucker.” — RuPaul

Just a quick note to officially announce that I am entirely over this haircut, ladies:

Yes, yes, I know, it’s real modern and real kicky and all that…but for me, it’s gettin’ real tired. I understand that just like any other trend in our culture, it started out in the realm of “alternative”. I remember going to a Frank Black show about five years ago and standing behind some skinny, tattooed alterna-girl who had bright red dyed hair that was choppy on the back and sides and gelled straight out. I remember smirking to myself at the time because the back of her head looked the the goddamned Heat Miser.

But now, so deeply mainstream has it become, that you can’t turn on the television and see a single commercial for eyeglass frames or feminine hygiene spray where the broad in question is not sporting this ‘do. And further, if you watch any type of makeover show, you can bet your sweet ass that right after they deck the mark out in a fitted leather jacket, dark bell-bottom jeans, and pointy-toed shoes, they are sure as hell going to march her right down to some chi-chi salon where the betch will undoubtedly emerge with make-up like Amy Winehouse and this fucking side-spiky coiffure.

It’s time to move along, ladies. This ‘do…is done.

And if you don’t believe me…here’s proof. Even hateful, stupid, right-wing, Republican shill dummies are sportin’ it.

Done, I say. Be gone!

I recently saw The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus and it was in the TOP FIVE WORST FILMS I HAVE EVER SEEN — and trust me, I have seem some bad movies. Aside from the production design — which, like all Gilliam films, was positively exquisite — watching this film was like gazing at an extraordinarily beautiful…, yet boring, and completely insane woman…who hurls her turds at you. I am still not recovered.

KEGGER AT LOST LAKE, BITCHES!

After the recent loss of Bea Arthur — which just about fucking leveled me, I gotta tell you — in reading this post, it has only now fully sunk in that we are losing extraordinary cultural treasures every day. Along with Bea, Phyllis Diller, Carol Burnett, Cloris Leachman, and Joan Rivers, these are broads who helped me become who and what I am.

Where is my god now, Moses?

From October 1st, 2007:

Other than the far-too-early deaths of two of my most influential heroes and inspirations, Gilda Radner and Madeleine Kahn (both, ironically, from ovarian cancer), I can’t remember when the world of funny women has taken such a monumental hit as this past month.

First Brett Somers, a delightfully bawdy dame I used to hurry home to watch every day after school on Match Game. She made me not only want to grow up and make my living making people laugh, but also showed me that hanging out with fabulous and outrageous gay men was definitely what I wanted to do with my life. The banter between she and Charles Nelson Reilly used to make me scream with belly laughter — even though I was just a little kid. In retrospect, I know now that my future aspirations were fully coalesced even then: Professionally, I wanted to be a comedy writer and actor, and personally, I wanted to be a fag hag. I am pleased to say that I have made good on both dreams, and interestingly enough both of my daughters seem to have followed my footsteps both into the arts and into the gay clubs. My youngest tootsie is even accompanying a darling gay boy to the Homecoming Dance next month — and trust me, the talk of MAC eye pencil and Christian Louboutin shoes is epic, even in hell. Hurray for being surrounded at all times by fabulous and loving gay men!

And as if the departure of Miss Brett to regions beyond was not hideous enough, we also lost Alice Ghostley last month, also a hugely important figure in the development of who and what I am. My friend, Billy, is making a film about the life of Paul Lynde, and I learned while editing the script that it was widely acknowledged in the business that Lynde had shrewdly appropriated Ghostley’s voice, her delivery, and her schtick and made it his own. But what is not so widely known is that she, in turn, had stolen it from the wickedly sardonic Eve Arden — the only difference being that Ghostley readily admitted her theft. There is nothing wrong with standing on the shoulders of giants — as artists, we all do it. The difference is, only true genius will own it. Alice Ghostley was a true genius.

Miss Brett and Miss Alice…thanks for all the belly laughs and for all the dreams. You will be missed.

I am currently at Trader Joe’s standing in line behind Michael Gross, the dad from Family Ties, who is a neighbor of mine.

I love LA.

Yet another self-indulgent list of odd/interesting facts about myself while I fret and sweat with ruinous perfectionism regarding my this-close-to-being-finished book proposal:

1.) From a very early age, I have slept with books in my bed…literally stowed in my pillowcases, tucked under the mattress, wrapped in the sheets, and stashed between the comforters — within arms distance and surrounding me at all times. This is, of course, so that I can wake and have instant access to my most valued and cherished material possessions. I just recently read somewhere that Chairman Mao practiced this same habit throughout his entire life –- which I find only mildly disturbing.

2.) My mother regularly douches with Scope mouthwash. She says it gives her cooter a blast of icy-fresh rejuvenation. If she is out of Scope, she has also been known to use Listerine in a pinch. Give us a kiss.

3.) My husband’s uncle was a writer on The Brady Bunch, All in the Family, Here’s Lucy, The Red Skelton Show, Mr. Ed, and Sanford and Son, among many other classic television shows. Also, his aunt was Morticia’s cousin, Melancholia, on The Addams Family as well as the voice of Henrietta Hippo on The New Zoo Revue and the “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing…” lady on the famous Alka Seltzer commercials of the 1970s (She would answer, “Believe it, Henry…”) And speaking about cousins, when you ride the Tower of Terror ride at Disneyland, that is Gregory’s first cousin, Bob, you see portraying Rod Serling. Brilliance clearly runs in his family.

4.) Because I apparently have the world’s tiniest ears, no earbuds known to man will fit me. When I wish to listen to my ipod, I am forced to do so via regular old-school earphones or car speakers, which is a colossal pain-in-the-icehole, I assure you. When we were in London a few years ago, I was the only person on the double-decker tour bus (small children included, mind you) who had to actually physically hold the tour’s earbuds in my ears because they would pop out within 3 seconds of my frustrating attempts at wedging them in there. Think Shaquille O’Neal trying to fuck Tinkerbelle…and well, you get the idea.

5.) I have always said that when it comes to rubbish — fuck girl power! Along with changing tires and killing spiders, garbage is the domain of men! I refuse to handle refuse!

6.) One of the sounds I love the most is the clackity-clackity sound of a huge brace of fresh clams or periwinkles being dumped all over each other into a metal cooking pot.

7.) No matter where I happen to find myself in the world, I always leave my watch set to the time where my children are.

8.) I never snoop in my children’s things –- not their drawers, not their purses, not their Facebooks, not their MySpaces. Never, ever.

9.) I keep a bottle of Visine in the refrigerator at all times –- because nothing in this world feels better when my eyes are itchy from allergies or tired from reading or writing. It’s sort of a blast of icy-fresh rejuvenation, you might say.

10) I come from a long line of carnival people –- including those who sold corndogs, those who worked the midway, those who performed in sideshows, and — though I’m sure you’ll find it terribly difficult to believe seeing that I am such a fine fuckin’ lady — those who were quite infamous for doing this:

“You can uh…you can uh…you can uh…uh…uh — that’s how Burlesque was born. So I uh…and I uh…and I uh…uh…uh…but I do it with a horn! Once I was a schleppa, now I’m Miss Mazzeppa, with my revolution in dance. You gotta have a gimmick, If you wanna have a chance! If you wanna stump it, bump it with a trum…pet! Get yourself a gimmick and you, too, can be a star!”