muffy bolding

I work in such a glamorous business.

You wanna know what it can get like on a movie set? Watch this — but do it quickly, because from what I am hearing, David O. Russell is coming down like a Son of Hades to get these pulled from public view and is trying to track down whatever crew member leaked them in the first place.

I’ve been on sets just like this, my friends — unfortunately it’s not as rare as you might think.

Enjoy!

ETA: My sources were dead on. YouTube was “compelled” to remove them. They are gone.

ETA: Some nice gossipy boy on one of my trashy lj communities ripped ’em before YouTube yanked ’em down. Hooray for gossipy boys!

The one in the car where Lily Tomlin is losing her motherfucking mind:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/49sef3

The one in the office where both Lily Tomlin and David O. Russell are losing their minds:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/uzwgjl

This was written and on-deck before I got the news about my sister — so I figure I may as well post it. Julia was a belly laugher deluxe — as is my entire family — so I am just going to be who I am and go with it…with zero fucking apologies. If you got a problem with it…well, you know the drill: Fuck off, lady.

Question #1

I was born in:

Fresno, California
San Francisco, California
Rochester, New York
Boston, Massachusetts

The answer is Rochester, New York. I was born in Rochester, but raised in Fresno — which I think threw a few of you. My true love, Gregory, was born in Boston. Yes, I like candy when it’s wrapped in a sweater. As for San Francisco, neither of us hails from there, nor have we ever resided there — but I did give him a handjob once in the Castro. Surely that must be worth something to you people.

Question #2

My darling first husband is a:

television producer
city councilman
organic farmer
welder

I think I may not have been as clear on this one as I could’ve been…in that my question is asking what my ex-husband — my first husband — does for a living. He is a welder extraordinaire and owns his own welding shop — as well as being a race car team co-owner. He is a total rock star — and he can fuck.

Question #3

My favorite male poet is:

Robert Lowell
Ted Hughes
TS Eliot
Pablo Neruda

Although this group — plus WS Merwin — comprises all of my most favey fave male poets…it is Edward James Hughes who holds my heart in his brute, brute hands. Every girl likes a boot in the face, after all.

Question #4

If I could live anywhere in the world, it would be:

Paris, France
New York, New York
London, England
Rome, Italy

I am besotted with Paris — completely obsessed — and plan to dash right back the very next chance I get…but it is London that stole my heart when I was but three years old, and has never, ever given it back. I am an anglophile of the highest order and spend much of my free time reading about English history, literature, travel, geography, and culture. If I had the chance, I would move there in a flash and spend the rest of my days amongst the most splendid city that I do love so.

Question #5

My mother’s name is:

Josephine
Katherine
Alexandria
Anastasia

My imperious maternal great-great-grandmother from Northern Spain was Josephine…but my mother is Alexandria.

Question #6

The noise that will send me fleeing from a room is:

fingernails on chalkboard
wailing newborn
styrofoam against styrofoam
someone vomiting

Fingernails on chalkboard does disturb me somewhat — a wailing newborn, however, does not. And you can literally vomit ALL OVER me and I could give a rat’s ass. But if I hear styrofoam rubbing against styrofoam, it bothers me so much that I am aurally disturbed for days. I just can’t shake it. Christmas morning around here is a real goddamned scream.

Question #7

My major in college was:

English Lit
Theatre
Anthropology
Sociology

Actually, as my husband pointed out, anyone who answered English Lit should give themselves an extra score because although I was a rabid and ribald Theatre major the first time out, I later went back as an English Lit/Creative Writing major. Oh, and I wanted to nail my poetry professor so badly I could taste it…he was so choice — but for god’s sake, don’t tell anyone.

Question #8

If I wasn’t a writer and an actor, I would be:

an opera singer
a professor of European History
a union organizer
a politician

Although I am currently sporting just the right body to really take a serious bite outta “Tosca”, I have never had a hankering to sing opera. ‘Tis true that I am very interested in unions and their politics and history, and even though Miss seems to think I would make an exemplary politician…it is a professor of European History that I would wish to be. Sigh. Perhaps next time, my liege.

Question #9

My favorite ride at Disneyland is:

The Haunted Mansion
Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride
Space Mountain
Storybook Canal Boats

Love, love, love them all – but in the end, the Storybook Canal Boats are what float my…storybook canal boat. So enchanting! Miniatures take my breath away! I have often said that if I ever get to participate in one of those “Dream Job For a Day” doo-dads, I am requesting to work as a tour girl on this ride — complete with pea coat, prim liederhosen jumper, white knee socks, and pilgrim shoes with big ass brass buckles. And you have known since DNA that my fatass would take a flying leap off that boat and over that murky water just so I could drape my body prostrate at the base of Cinderella’s castle or over the many gabled roof of noble Toad Hall, keening and weeping all the while.

Question #10

I frequently introduce myself as:

Anita Cocktail
Eunice Burns
Slim Bolding
Mrs. Parker

Slim Bolding. When I earnestly introduce myself as such and then watch the person slowly associate the name with the altogether-not-so-slim hooker standing before them, I gotta tell you…the befuddled look on their face is absolutely priceless. I am nothing if not living, breathing, strutting performance art, goddamnit.

The end.

I would like to offer my most heartfelt thanks to all those friends who phoned, sent cards, flowers, letters, and emails, and left me prayers, condolences, and wishes here for strength and healing after the tragic and unexpected death of my little sister, Julia, last week. Your words brought me more comfort and peace than you will ever know.

Reading what you wrote has touched me beyond belief and I love and cherish each and every one of you.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

My younger sister, Julia, is one of the most kind-hearted people I know. She is the sort of person who will give you anything she has, without a moment’s hesitation — even when she has nothing. Her heart is strong and true.

Although she was married once (to guitarist George Lynch) she has never had any children — instead choosing to lavish all her abundant love and affection onto her four cats. These kitties are so well loved that when their mother is away from home for any amount of time over just a few hours, she lets them know they’re adored via a method that always make me belly laugh out loud whenever I think of it: She leaves the volume on her home answering machine turned all the way on blast and she calls and talks to them…calls them over by name to tell them hello and that mama is coming home soon. This practice amuses me no end, as I always imagine those fucking cats hauling fat ass to the kitchen counter and mewing and rubbing up against the answering machine when they hear her sweet, dulcet voice echoing throughout the house.

As my regular readers know, I have several sisters (6 0r 7, I always answer when asked. I never can remember exactly) all lovely — but none so lovely as Julia. Not a week goes by that someone doesn’t comment that she looks like either Phoebe Cates or Talisa Soto. She also has big, gorgeous jugs and an exquisite body — all covered with smooth bronze skin. She is as beautiful outside as she is inside.

Along with those looks, she has also been blessed with a voice like an angel; in fact, in her late 20’s, she spent several years singing in various nightclubs in Tokyo. She used to send me funny letters and postcards documenting her journey — and was always accommodating when I would make ridiculous requests of her, asking to see pictures of the all-talent pink plastic Japanese appliances in which she washed her clothes and dishes, as well as the interesting assortment of wacky foodstuff peppering the shelves of her local grocer.

Lest you think that Julia has a life of ease and perfection, I need to tell you that along with her many virtues and gifts, she was also cursed with a very perilous, incurable condition: Bi-polar Disorder (Type I). This means that along with all of the joy and love in her life come many trials and difficulties. In her quest for respite from the relentless onslaught of her mental illness, she has spent the past few years self-medicating with alcohol. This has led to episodes of depression so deafening that, in the past, she has attempted suicide on five separate occasions.

But, last year, after her doctor told her that although she is only 34, the alcohol was starting to take its toll on her body, she went to an AA meeting and hasn’t looked back. She has been sober for over eight months, gotten on the necessary medication to control her condition, and has been successfully working hard to get her life back on track. We are all so proud of her.

My sweet little sister’s body was found this morning. She is dead.

I am dead.

Ah, after a week of plagues and locusts, some rather well-earned Friday self-indulgence!

Please leave a one-word comment that you think best describes me — good, bad, indifferent, horrified, besotted, disgusted, vulgar, affectionate, filled with loathing, filled with lust, ALL, NO, or even fancy with raisins.

It can only be one word, though.

No more.

Then copy & paste this in your journal so that I may leave a word about you — or don’t. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy, darling motherfucker o’ mine.