muffy bolding

Yeah. This is how we do it in Bucharest, baby:

MonkeyFace Totem-Pole…Romanian style.

Because he always plays the serious-as-a-heart-attack heavy, nobody has any idea how hugely hilarious he is. The Jackals and I have been routinely doing the MonkeyFace for twenty years, so it is nothing if not second nature to me. My darling comrade and colleague was new to the concept, but he gave it his all, and for that, I adore him eternally.

The first time I met him was at the table read. He came into the room, smiled right at me and proceeded to sit in the chair right next to mine; because we are both huge belly laughers, we were peas and carrots right from the start. During the read, the most amazing thing happened — something that I’ve never experienced before or since: that famous voice of his is so incredibly sonorous, that whenever he read his lines aloud, even sitting two or three feet away from him, I could feel his words reverberate in my chest. So odd!

At any rate, one night during the shoot, we were all privileged enough to have been taken to eat at the finest restaurant in Bucharest. The fucking BELLY SCREAMING stories he told over dinner were legendary — even in hell. And when, after all the plates were cleared and the hooch was flowing liberally, that glorious son-of-a-bitch leaned across the table at me, held a single wizened finger in the air and, regarding a famously beautiful and toothy actress from the 70s, slurred in that infamous voice of his, “That bitch loses one tooth and she’s out of the business!”, we belly laughed so long and so hard…I swear to christ, I saw god.

He’s so goddamned ALL, you can’t even believe it, and I cannot wait to work with him again someday. He’s the real deal. He’s true blue.

He’s bonafide.

Me and Fancy Lancie get stacked on the set of Madhouse in Bucharest, Romania.

It was announced today that one of my favorite living poets, Charles Simic, was named the 15th poet laureate of the United States by the Librarian of Congress. Speaking as a writer and a poetry fanatic, I find this news both delightful and heartening, as Mr. Simic penned what I consider to be the seven greatest lines in all of literature.

An excerpt from his poem, Breasts:

I insist that a girl
Stripped to the waist
Is the first and last miracle,

That the old janitor on his deathbed
Who demands to see the breasts of his wife
For the one last time
Is the greatest poet who ever lived.

It doesn’t get any better than that, kids; that poem is not about an old red barn, amber waves of grain, or the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill. That poem is about what it fucking means to be alive.

Congratulations, Charlie. Trust me, right now, more than ever before, the world of American letters needs an O.G. pimp like you to show us the way.

Well done.

Every once in awhile you stumble across something that reminds you just how awesome it is to be a member of the human race. For me, this is one of those times. Stuff like this proves that EVERY single person on this planet is brilliant in their own way, imbued with the desire to create and express beauty.

I haven’t screamed with belly laughter this hard nor had my breath taken away like this in a long time. This is SO completely ALL.

My friends, I bring you…the 1,500 plus CPDRC inmates of the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center, Cebu, Philippines:

Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the following. They have to be real places, names, things…nothing made up! Try to use different answers if the person you ganked this from had the same first initial. You CAN’T use your name for the boy/girl name question.

—————
Famous Artist/Band/Musician:
Mary Blair
—————
4 letter word:
Minx
—————
Vehicle:
Mini-Cooper
—————
TV Show:
Muppet Show
—————
City:
Marrakech
—————
Boy Name:
Malcolm
—————
Girl Name:
Mary
—————
Alcoholic Drink:
Martini
—————
Occupation:
Muckraker
—————
Something you wear:
Muff
—————
Celebrity:
Mirren, Helen
—————
Food:
Meatloaf
—————
Something found in a kitchen:
Maraschino cherries
—————
Reason for being late:
Menstruation
—————
Cartoon Character:
Marvin the Martian
—————
Film Title:
Mermaids
—————
Book:
Mists of Avalon
—————
Song:
My Maria
—————
Animal:
Magpie
—————
Character in a movie:
Mary Poppins!

And one more…because I just cannot bear not to.

If you don’t think this song is about as ALL-talent as it gets…then go fuck yourself, my friend — you got no bidness around these parts.

“If you’re after getting the honey,
Then you don’t go killing all the bees…”

Marry me, Joe.

Christ, I miss Joe Strummer.

Well, Happy Birthday, yesterday! I was too busy having fun hanging out with you to post your birthday wishes in a timely fashion, so I am doing it now. In our world, fun always comes before duty!

Happy Birthday to the bestest friend and travel partner a girl could ever hope for. It is a privilege to share all my groovy adventures and wild dreams with a boy as extraordinary as yourself.

In honor of your grand entrance into this world all those years ago…a re-creation of the big event, courtesy of your very own crouching, adorable self on the mall in Washington, DC…ready to leap into the world. Spring, cute pig, spring! The babies and I are waiting for you!:

If I could ask the Universe one question — one genuinely sincere question from the bottom of my heart — it would be this:

Why can’t it be global cooling, goddamnit?

No, seriously. Why can’t it be?

My god, how I loathe the sweltering heat and the blistering sun. Once again, here I am, right on schedule, making my annual “I Loathe Summer” post. And once again, just like I do every year, I am putting my sweaty head down, cranking on the AC to sub-zero temperatures, and trying my hardest to be positive and productive, despite the fact that seasonal mood disorder is kickin’ my wicked ass.

Traditionally, I consider the day after Memorial Day to be the official kick-off to my infernal suffering, which, in the climes of Southern California, generally lasts until about mid-October. And as blistering as it can get around these parts, I cannot even imagine living in the true South. Last year when I did that Disney shoot in Florida, my agony was epic — even in Hell. It was so humid and I was so hot and so uncomfortable that as I drug myself around in the thick, clotted, muggy air, I actually began to get enraged at the locals, thinking to myself, “How in the fuck do you people live here? And further, why in the fuck do you people live here?”

You see, although I pride myself on being an extraordinarily cordial and stoic person — even in the face of great discord and adversity — I’m afraid I can be frightfully surly when overheated. When the sudden realization hits me that my granny panties are dripping wet from the humidity…well, let’s just say I’ve been known to unleash The Kraken.

It certainly doesn’t help matters that due to the dread presence of a chronic disease that leaves me with a 100-degree-plus body temperature on a good day, along with profound photosensitivity that forces me to trail about town perpetually sheltered under my beloved umbrella, I couldn’t enjoy the season even if I felt uncharacteristically inclined to do so — which I do not.

So, my charming message today to all of you misguided sunbunnies out there who celebrate the good ol’ summertime?

Fuck off, lady.

October, you sweet, clement son-of-a-bitch, you can’t get here fast enough.