muffy bolding

“One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”
— Bertrand Russell

Last Summer, I went to a costume party in L.A. dressed, along with my best friend and writing partner, Billy, like a couple of fab diesel dyke twins named Connie and Sandy Culpepper — complete with plaid Pendleton shirts, Billie Jean King eyeglasses, and deliciously wicked mullets (purchased from Hollywood Wigs.) The best part was, I TOTALLY fucking committed to the character for the duration of the shindig — and kicked ass on everyone and anyone who got in my way. It was an utter blast, and that I got loads of belly laughs in the process was truly the best part of the experience.

Or so I thought.

It seems that there were two television producers at said party, who apparently remembered me and my oh, so creamy feigned butchness. They called me last week to ask if I would reprise the role of Sandy on the pilot for a series they are developing for Here! — the nation’s first gay and lesbian premium television network (http://www.heretv.com). A rather minor part, to be sure (the stage manager for a hilarious talk show featuring a chubby Latina drag queen named Chi-Chi as the hostess) — but one that sounds like it would be just about right for me schedule-wise.

We shoot it on Friday.

Wish me luck, motherfuckers — or I’ll snap on my knee brace, jump into my Subaru, crank up some Etheridge, and drive over and beat yer fuckin’ asses into next week.

I got priceless cards and flowers from the babies and a bunch of Burt’s Bees stuff and a box of COOL kitschy postcards and an Edith Piaf and a Richard Wagner CD from the cute piglet. But the best part? Gregory is making me an entire dinner…consisting of BBQed steaks, sauteed shrooms, red potatoes, and green beans. I have the best husband in the world, methinks.

For later: a Divine/John Waters documentary…and perhaps my getting lucky.

I am in mama heaven. I hope you are, too.

Happy Mother’s Day.

I have decided to bump my comfort zone and do this one (and also because I’m GENUINELY curious as to what people will ask me…if anything!):

The Secret Question Meme

Ask me any question. Your comment will be screened (i.e. no one else will know your super secret question!). In between folding copious amounts of laundry, I’ll answer said queries until we both get bored, turn on the beloved TIVO and/or kick-start our jackhammer-like vibrators.

So, no matter how hideous or personal…ask away. Remember, I got no shame.

First Teen: “Hey, look at this! It says ‘Train for jobs in beeyotch.’ ”

Second Teen: “Fool! That word is biotech. Why you gotta be ignorant all your life?”

Overheard on the subway in New York City, 27 April, 2005.

Umm…I would just like to ask why none of youse broads — who are always raving on and on about how fab it is — never, ever, ever mentioned that Rescue Remedy is NOTHING MORE than fucking JACK DANIELS served up in an eye dropper?

I bought a bottle, expecting gentle drops of some mild, lovely, floral-like taste under my tongue…and got a mouthful of PURE GODDAMNED SOURMASH WHISKEY. This is unfuckingbelievable. No wonder anxiety-ridden hippies everywhere are suddenly smiling to themselves beatifically — they’re fucking hammered. I’m surprised they don’t sell this stuff in a flask.

I have not belly laughed this hard in weeks. You hippies and your goddamned alternative medicine. This rocks.

You are the same age now as I was when I first started dating your father. You have no idea how unbelievable this is to me.

You now drive me around the island and throw your arm out in front of me when you have to brake suddenly. Small gesture; huge symbolism.

You are taller than I am by three inches. This isn’t saying much — but I’m just saying.

You always have to remind me that you are old enough and capable enough to fill out official documents and medical paperwork all by yourself — that I don’t need to do it for you. Old habits die hard, I am afraid.

You have a chest like a Playboy bunny — under which beats a heart like no other I have ever known.

Even though I am about as progressive as a mother comes, it still breaks my own heart just a little to think of you inking up that creamy, perfect skin I created…but I shall learn to live with it, I suppose (as long as I have final approval over the design!)

Wherever you go, whatever you do…you are always the best and the brightest — you wouldn’t have it any other way, Aries. You are a leader amongst your peers — and yet you always have time to help anyone who might need it.

You are in such a rush to be a grown-up lady — you always have been — but don’t be in such a rush that you miss out on being present at every miraculous moment of your time here. It goes by so fast, honey.

But you still call me “Mommy”…and at the end of the day, you crawl into bed with me and cuddle close to my chest..and I rub your bottom to soothe you, just like I used to do when you were in my belly, all those years ago. Eighteen or not, you are still my baby — and always will be.

It has been an honor and a privilege to have escorted you to this gate. I love you with all my heart.

Oh, and world?

LOOK OUT.

First Robert Creeley, and now Saul Bellow. I imagine they’ll be coming for my beloved WS Merwin soon, and I can scarcely imagine life after that. My heart is breaking. Whatever will we do when they’re all gone?

When the death bell tolls for Merwin, I’m done for; he’s the last prince.