Inane Asshole Muff COMPLETELY True Fact #694: I actually had to clutch my pearls, close my eyes, take a deep breath, wipe my tears, light candles, and pray to St. Judy and St. Liza for strength and guidance — so that I might be able to just get the fuck over myself and my profound disappointment when it became irrefutably evident that my only gottdamned son is STRAIGHT.
Life can be SO CRUEL.
Inane Muff Fact #719:
When I was little, I used to watch The Waltons every Thursday night without fail. I was OBSESSED. But, regardless of what dire, Depression-era tragedy happened to be unfolding on Walton’s Mountain on any given week, I still could NOT take my fucking eyes off John Boy’s mole. I was transfixed by it. It controlled my every thought and move. It altered me on a cellular level. It changed my view of the Universe itself and my minuscule place in it. That mole was EVERYTHING to me.
NOTHING ELSE MATTERED.
Inane HORRIFYING Muff Realization #272:
On this day, October 20th, 2014…I am FUCKING OLDER than motherloving ALL-TALENT old lady Jean Stapleton was as Edith Bunker on, “All In The Family.”
Holy shit.
YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS.
See, here’s the deal. The harder this fucking society attempts to civilize and bowdlerize my fatass…the HARDER and FIERCER I will push back. Trust me, Mein Haters…there is SO MUCH MORE COMING.
Count on it.
“Santa Ana winds blowin’ hot from the north…and we was born to ride.”
Despite it being MOTHERLOVING NOVEMBER and just a few weeks away from THANKSGIVING — a time when it should be COLD, BLUSTERY, and LOVELY — due to this unseasonable, unreasonable heat, the current suffering of myself, my children, my husband, my friends, my colleagues, and very nearly ALL of my fellow Angelenos is nothing short of EPIC.
Way back when I lived in Fresno, I used to think the whole notoriousmythology surrounding The MIGHTY Santa Ana Winds of Los Angeles was STRICTLY HORSESHIT. I thought it was overblown nonsense, that is…UNTIL MY FATASS ACTUALLY MOVED HERE. To experience this weather phenomenon is UNBELIEVABLE.
I am talking HOT, DRY, RUTHLESS WINDS OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS.
The constant threat of fires wild in the earthy hills and mounts that watch over us all like fierce, silent, timeless mothers.
Skin SO parched I look and feel like a TUBBY, DUSTY MUMMY.
The full moon crooning lunatic tunes above our parched bones, a dry siren song beckoning us to the very edge of reason and ruin. She is difficult to resist.
The sparking ions savage, thrashing, and alive in which we currently swim — an atmospheric moshpit making A City of Angels CRAZY…..ER.
The air billowing against your skin so warm, soft, alluring, and menacing — like a beautiful lover above you, with one hand stroking your cheek and the other reaching under your pillow…for a knife with which to cut your throat.
The MIGHTY Winds de la Santa Ana are not coming.
THEY’RE HERE.
“There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands’ necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.” — Raymond Chandler
Sitting here in the place of my birth, on the couch next to my brilliant, beautiful father, Tom — listening to him regale me with both sad and delightful memories of his life and his childhood while I take copious notes for the book…both of us BELLY LAUGHING and BELLY CRYING every five…and then looking out the window and seeing this serene, gorgeous sight.
Peace. Contentment. Love.
My ebullience is complete.
Even when it’s difficult, even when it’s treacherous and terrifying, but especially when it is this amazing and transcendent…I love my goddamned life SO VERY, VERY MUCH.
#youCANgohome #tomisagod #iamtheluckiestslut
I just cracked open a delicious bottle of my new favorite beverage sensation and gave my 76 year old father his very first taste of Kombucha. His straight-faced, DEAD-serious response?
“Kombucha tastes like OLD COOCHA.”
#SCREAMINGWITHBELLYLAUGHTER #myfatherrules
My beautiful, awesome Beatnik father in the late 1950s.
God, I am SO in love with him.
#LITERALLYahipdaddio #tomisagod #snapdontclap #beretlust#chesterfieldlust #justcallmeelectra #luckiestslutever
muffy bolding 