“Every blade of grass has a mother goddess that bends over it and whispers, “grow…grow…grow…”

Happy Mother’s Day to all of those extraordinary mothers whom I am proud and privileged to call my friends. You are consistently an inspiration to me as I mother my own babies. Thank you most of all for that.

In your honor, I broke into the precious cache containing my most favorite mother quotes of all time:

“At work, you think of the children you have left at home. At home, you think of the work you’ve left unfinished. Such a struggle is unleashed within yourself. Your heart is rent.”
— Golda Meir

“If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant’s life, she will choose to save the infant’s life without even considering if there are men on base.”
— Dave Barry

“If you bungle raising your children, I don’t think whatever else you do well matters very much.”
— Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

“I am convinced that the only reason women decide to have additional babies is to get a break, if even for just a few days, from the babies they already have.”
— Shirley Jackson

“Becoming a mother makes you the mother of all children. From now on each wounded, abandoned, frightened child is yours. You live in the suffering mothers of every race and creed and weep with them. You long to comfort all who are desolate.”
— Charlotte Gray

“It seems to me that my mother was the most splendid woman I ever knew….I have met a lot of people knocking around the world since, but I have never met a more thoroughly refined woman than my mother. If I have amounted to anything, it will be due to her.”
— Charles Chaplin

“The mother is the most precious possessions of the nation, so precious that society advances its highest well-being when it protects the functions of the mother.”
— Ellen Key

“There is so much to teach, and the time goes so fast.”
— Erma Bombeck

“You never realize how much your mother loves you till you explore the attic – and find every letter you ever sent her, every finger painting, clay pot, bead necklace, Easter chicken, cardboard Santa Claus, paperlace Mother’s Day card and school report since day one.”
— Pam Brown

“My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her.”
— George Washington

“There never was a woman like her. She was gentle as a dove and brave as a lioness… The memory of my mother and her teachings were, after all, the only capital I had to start life with, and on that capital I have made my way.”
— Andrew Jackson

“A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care much for pie.”
–Tenneva Jordan

“Everybody knows that a good mother gives her children a feeling of trust and stability. She is their earth. She is the one they can count on for the things that matter most of all. She is their food and their bed and the extra blanket when it grows cold in the night; she is their warmth and their health and their shelter; she is the one they want to be near when they cry. She is the only person in the whole world in a whole lifetime who can be these things to her children. There is no substitute for her. Somehow even her clothes feel different to her children’s hands from anybody else’s clothes. Only to touch her skirt or her sleeve makes a troubled child feel better.”
— Katharine Butler Hathaway

“It will be gone before you know it. The fingerprints on the wall appear higher and higher. Then suddenly, they disappear.”
— Dorothy Evslin

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update

Work Thing:

Ongoing Disney Channel stuff and the research for a screenplay that will be so gottdamned brilliant it’s killing my fatass just to think about it. Also helping write and put together a “Furnace” presentation (actually, a “sizzle”) for the Fangoria convention in June, where the cast and crew shall be making an appearance. It’s clobberin’ time, motherfuckers.

Mind/Body/Health Thing:

I haven’t mentioned it here yet, but last week I had fairly extensive surgery on my left hand for a particularly nasty case of carpal tunnel, as well as a few other odd fine tunings. I had the right hand done 14 years ago, when my daughter, Anne, was still a toddler. Try changing a really ambitious diaper with only one hand sometime. Yeah. Needless to say, it was a proper bitch, but now that everyone who has emerged from my cooter can deposit their own von dookenstein into the appropriate receptacle all by themselves and clean the remaining residue from their undercarriages, as well, it has turned out to be a relatively feces-free recovery.

As for the surgery itself, the need for it came as absolutely no surprise at all. All the women who share my immediate gene pool eventually turn up with The Carp; it’s practically a family tradition. However, just to keep everybody happy, I still submitted to their extensive pre-op nerve tests. The results were beyond even my own dismal expectations. When my surgeon called a few weeks ago to let me know how my tests had turned out, I chuckled and joked with him before asking, “So, how bad is it, Doc? Shall I schedule a fitting for my platinum, Tiffany, jewel-encrusted pirate meathook?” Even I was a little flummoxed when my doctor (who is the head of hand surgery at one of the most prestigious medical institutions in the country, by the way) answered, “It’s as bad as I’ve seen, kiddo.”

Oh. Okay.

He then went on to tell me how relieved he was that we were taking care of this now, as unfortunately, I have already suffered irreversible nerve damage to my hand. Fucking priceless. Luckily, those much-sought-after handjobs for which I am so famous are delivered up with my right-hand. Oh, and don’t act so shocked; besides, I was acquitted of all those ridiculous charges against me.

At any rate, I get the stitches out in like two weeks — which shan’t be a moment too soon as far as I’m concerned. This maimed invalid horseshit is driving me berserk. It just doesn’t suit me. I’m a shitkicker and a thief. Well, not really a thief — but I do still rob houses.

Oh, and now that I am in LA, I am seeing a new Rheumatologist — who is the total fucking China White of the rheumy world. He has, I think, finally finally finally unearthed me a diagnosis. I’m a little nervous, but also relieved. Christ, just give me a goddamned name for this beast, already, wouldja — so’s I can kick its lousy ass. A few more tests and mine enemy shall have a face. I say fucking bring it.

Love Thing:

Head over heels. Still.

Family Life Thing:

Cute babies abound. I wish to bite their buttcheeks — and believe me, I shall.

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eddie and the cruisers goes ape

Michael Pare’ expertly and graciously doing the Monkeyface for me on the set of “Furnace”, Old Nashville State Prison, February, 2006:

So fucking ALL.

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memememe…

YOU CAN ONLY TYPE ONE WORD. NO EXPLANATIONS.

1. Yourself: Bellylaugher
2. Your Lover: Brilliant
3. Your Hair: Feeney
4. Your Mother: Diva
5. Your Father: Beatnik
6. Your Favorite Item: Babywipes
7. Your Dream Last Night: Chihuahua
8. Your Favorite Drink: Coffee
9. Your Dream Home: Malibu
10. The Room You Are In: Cozy
11. Your Pet: Pending
12. Who You Are Now: Writer/Mother
13. Who You Want to be in Ten years: Writer/Mother
15. What You Don’t Wanna Be: Uninteresting
16. Your Best Friend: Gregory
17. One of Your Wish list Items: Celluloid
18. Your Gender: Cooter
19. The Last Thing You Did: Sipped
20. What You Are Wearing: Schmata
21. Your Favorite Weather: Blustery
22. Your Favorite Book: Capote
23. The Last Thing You Ate: Broccoli
24. Your Life: Interesting
25. Your Mood: Bemused
26. Your favorite store: Target
27. Your favorite sport: Baseball
28. Favorite memory: Planetarium
29. Who do you miss right now: Daddy
30: Who did you get this survey from: Everyone

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mmmm….

This entry brought to you by… and the letter “M”

Miniatures: I am obsessed with all things small — and always have been. The vast majority of my dreams and daydreams before the age of about 13 involved something to do with me being 2 inches tall. You cannot drag me out of a dollhouse shop to save my life (just ask Gregory) and at flea markets and thrift stores, I can go through bins of little plastic dudes for hours. For hours.

Mommy: As in me…not mine. It’s what I do.

Mel Brooks: Along with Buck Henry, he is one of my greatest professional influences. Another is…

Madeline Kahn: Two words: Eunice Burns. That is all.

Mary Magdalene: This is the broad I pray to when I pray. A mother AND a whore. My kinda dame.

Mammaries: After a lifetime of suffering under their insidious weight, as of last summer, they are gone, baby, gone. And I don’t miss them one little bit. Goodbye, Beavertails.

Mirth: It’s what else I do.

Mafia: “The Godfather” — My obsession. My joy. My inspiration. My family.

Mary Poppins: My most favoritest Disney movie of all.

Mandarins: As in oranges. My favorite scent.

Monocle: I want to wear one, strut about, and act a pretentious prick.

Monkeyface: Billy and I have been doing the Monkeyface since the very beginning — with several variations on it emerging as time has passed (i.e., “Monkey looks to heaven and sees god.”) Whenever I am on location, I make every single person I work with take a Monkeyface picture for me. I show them the face and then make them do it — I don’t give a shit how big a fucking movie star they are. As a matter of fact, the bigger the star, the more I am determined to get my shot. Lance Henriksen’s is especially funny — he and I even took a stacked Monkeyface totem pole pic together in Romania that completely rules. Maybe someday I shall publish a Monkeyface coffeetable book.

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a gut like a quonset hut

Please forgive, and indulge me in yet another quick query on my continuing quest for an escape from this quaking quagmire of flesh in which I currently dwell.

Weight Watchers.

What say you?

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unfuckingreal

Okay, you know you have officially become an Angeleno when, after seeing a Del Shores play at The Zephyr, you duck over into Canter’s Deli…and eat a late supper of a Reuben and matzoh soup whilst sitting five feet away from Rodney Bingenheimer.

I think I may be home, motherfuckers.

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progress

The one great thing about my hair is that it grows unbelievably fast. Therefore, it is with much pride and satisfaction that I now announce that I have officially graduated from a fat Paul McCartney:

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to a fat Shirley Feeney:

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Thanks be to god.

We’re getting there.

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the drag queen and miss emmy

This evening, one of my oldest and dearest friends, Peter Garcia, won an Emmy Award for his writing on the PBS-Kids series, Jakers! The Adventures of Piggley Winks.

Peter and I, along with Billy, have been mates since we were all starstruck theatre-geek teenagers back in Fresno. And those who follow my journal will remember that it was on Petey’s television pilot, “Chit Chat With Chi-Chi”, that I played the fabulous, be-mulleted, BUTCH diesel dyke stage manager, Sandy Culpepper:

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So, my most proud and affectionate congratulations go out to my old friend Peter…on this most magical and life-changing of nights.

I love you, Miss Chi-Chi; well done.

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query

Has anybody out there had any experience — either positive or negative — with OA?

I am not altogether sure that it would be right for me as, though I certainly adore and enjoy good food (and fucking how!), I am not a binge eater or even an overeater, necessarily — nor do I think I really eat for emotional or comfort reasons, though who really fucking knows. In the interest of full-disclosure I have, however, struggled with a fairly profound eating disorder in the past (the-not-eating-for-frighteningly-long-periods-of-time-kind.) My current weight situation stems from medical issues (both condition and medication; the former will unfortunately both be with me for the duration, the latter has been swapped out, thank christ), as well as an intense loathing of physical over-exertion. That’s right, my friends — aside from long, rambling walks in the English countryside, I cannot stand exercise. I would rather light my own hair on fire than play a fucking game of raquetball, or do a single goddamned sit-up. And yes, I am also very aware that I need to find a happy medium in this arena if I wish to get back into shape and regain my health. Truth be told, I no longer give a FUCK about numbers; I just want to feel comfortable and fit into all my cute clothes and not be in chronic pain and physical distress. I just want to feel like me again.

However, that being said, I must admit that the notion of community, accountability, structure, and support sounds mighty fine. For those of you in the OA know, what has been your experience with the organization and do you think it might be helpful to me?

Also, I am not trying to start a debate on Fat Positive Issues with this post. I understand that this entire subject is just that: subjective. And highly personal. And highly volatile. I am genuinely not looking to be offensive, or provocative, or to start a battle royale about whether or not being fat is unhealthy. For me, it has unfortunately turned out to be so — for you, it might be different…in which case, I consider you most fortunate, and hope that that good health continues for the rest of your life. I also hope that you would wish me the same.

Thanks!

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