muffy bolding

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!

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.

A journalist for a literary magazine once interviewed Jean Cocteau, whose house was filled with several books, paintings, and drawings by famous artists. Cocteau had a deep affection for each and every object and thus kept everything he cherished. Seeing this, the journalist asked Cocteau: “If this house were to catch fire right now and you could only rescue one thing, what would you choose?”

Cocteau responded, “I would take the fire.”

Our very own cherished Cocteau that hangs above our very own fire:

Her profound message of passionate, righteous, maternal anger aside, my favorite part of her speech was when, about halfway through, she completely loses her train of thought and has absolutely no idea what she’s saying and struggles and stutters until her brain engages once again. I belly laughed with great affection — and familiarity — and thought to myself, “Yep. She’s a mother.”

“Surely this award belongs to all the mothers of the world. May they be seen, may their work be valued and raised, especially the mothers who stand with an open heart and wait…wait for their children to come home…from danger, from harm’s way, and from war. I am proud to be one of those women. And let’s face it…if mothers ruled the world, there would be no goddamned wars in the first place. Thank you.”

— Actor Sally Field during her acceptance speech, Emmy Awards, September 16th, 2007

Ah, this response is entirely satisfying as this is one of my most favoritest books of all time for a myriad of reasons, all profoundly meaningful and personal. In fact, I say it all the time: My darling and eccentric son is Owen Meany.

You’re A Prayer for Owen Meany!
by John Irving
Despite humble and perhaps literally small beginnings, you inspire
faith in almost everyone you know. You are an agent of higher powers, and you manifest
this fact in mysterious and loud ways. A sense of destiny pervades your every waking
moment, and you prepare with great detail for destiny fulfilled. When you speak, IT
SOUNDS LIKE THIS!

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Man, did these kids nail me, or what?

DEAD-ON.

I gotta say, the only appropriate occupations they missed are “Carny Trash” and “Trollop.”

1. Go to Career Cruising, http://www.careercruising.com
2. Put in Username: nycareers and Password: landmark.
3. Take their “Career Matchmaker” questions.
4. Post the top twenty results
5. Put the careers you have seriously considered in italics, and the careers in which you have worked/do work in bold.

1. Historian (ah, in my next life, a Medievalist I shall be!)

2. Actor (theatre, television, and film)

3. Director of Photography

4. Comedian (written and stand-up)

5. Critic (print and television)

6. Writer (god help me)

7. Print Journalist (newspaper reporter)

8. Composer

9. Translator

10. Musician

11. Anthropologist

12. Special Effects Technician

13. Activist (women’s rights, human rights)

14. Costume Designer (theatre)

15. Set Designer (theatre)

16. Desktop Publisher (zines!)

17. Animator

18. Cartoonist/Comic Illustrator

19. Graphic Designer

20. Artist

21. Sport Psychology Consultant

22. Medical Illustrator

23. Computer Animator

24. GIS Specialist

25. Psychologist

26. Casting Director (assisted the two greatest casting directors in town!)

27. Communications Specialist

28. Political Aide (even wrote political speeches!)

29. Public Policy Analyst

30. Market Research Analyst

31. Criminologist

32. Fashion Designer

33. Genetic Counselor

34. Website Designer

35. Director (theatre…and if I have my way, I will absolutely direct film someday, as well.)

36. Makeup Artist

37. Rehabilitation Counselor

38. Mediator

39. Air Traffic Controller

40. Craftsperson

For those mighty kittens who have heretofore requested it:

Muffy Bolding
PO Box 1068
La Canada, CA
91012

Reason #17 that it really won’t be so bad having all my girlie bits removed: My impossibly adorable grandbaby, Coco Chanel, a Netherland Dwarf bunny, is having her girlie bits removed this month, too, all so her granny won’t feel so alone in her hysterical hysterectomosis. (Oh, alright, and because she has recently turned into a sullen, shrewish, PMSing teenage biatch, as well, but of that, we shall speak no more.) Look at that fuzzy gottdamned cottontail! And those plucky rabbit foots! Isn’t she just the livin’ end? I could die a million deaths just gazing at that face!

She’s a baby and that makes her a real-live, official, licensed, ordained, state-appointed, federally-accredited, card-carrying baby! <—(said in silly, ridiculous, high-pitched, sing-song, wanna-be granny voice normally reserved for the arrival of one's first human grandchild.)

Oh, and god help us all when, a decade or two from now, that day truly arrives. Trust me, that day will be epic — even in hell.

Fashionable ear-ponytail and bow provided by The House of Baby Goat:

Hey, Charlie?

WORD, you silly motherfucker.

“There was a time in this great country of ours when bein’ crazy really meant somethin’. But, now? It don’t mean nothin’…because everybody’s crazy.”

— Charles Manson

Reason #1 (#2 is just out of frame) to entrust your formerly saggy, hideous, ponderous, beavertail mammaries to the skilled hand of a Southern California plastic surgeon:

My new Boss Hooters