muffy bolding

Here in my hometown of Rochester, New York…interviewing kin, taking copious HILARIOUS notes, and drinking coffee out of the same HEAVY restaurant cup that my immigrant great-grandfather, Augustino Cipro, used to use as a shaving mug in the early part of the last century. I am LITERALLY drinking him in…as I am drinking him in.

Goddamn…time and life are just BRILLIANT. This journey is SO MUCH more than I could have possibly hoped for or imagined:

My fearless and intrepid ancestors and all their hopes and dreams and failures and successes and tragedies and triumphs…unfurling themselves at my feet like an alluring mist from the past, swirling up and all around me, their voices whispering in my ears, “Tell our story, Daughter.”

The Voyagers, The Vulgarians, The Dreamers, The Degenerates, The Intellectuals, The Grape Stompers, The Matriarchs, The Mafiosos, The Pagliaccis, The Pimps, The Pastry Masters, The Gangster’s Molls, The Gardeners, The Grifters, The Shitkickers, The Thieves…The FEARLESS Raiders of The New World:

My Kin.

‪#‎godblessuseveryone‬

My LOVING, MAGNIFICENT, MAGICAL Great-Grandmother — Maria Torromeo Cipro — a fierce, proud immigrant from Italy who helped supplement her little family’s income by serving as wet-nurse to several neighborhood children whose own mothers were unable to nurse them for whatever reason.

She is pictured here with her youngest son — my Great-Uncle Louis Cipro — who, according to family lore, was still enjoying the fruits of his lactating mother’s labor at the grand old age of four.

Rochester, New York: November 2014.

Liddle Kiddle brooch straight outta my childhood jewelry box. Whenever I wear it, FULLY elegant and dignified women of A Certain Age come unhinged at the mere sight of it…and then LITERALLY threaten to knock my fatass down and snatch it off my gottdamned chest.

Nothing ever changes.

We are always six.

All of us.

Forever.

100 Lifetimes Ago…in Fresno, California.

Muffy Bolding: Teenage Bride.

With the most loving, wonderful Baby Daddy in the world.

When asked to describe my marriage, I always used to say…it was like Divine married Richie Cunningham.

Even young and dumb…I was STILL a Lucky Slut.

This is my sister, Mo, age 5 — in a red shirt, red knee socks, white cotton chonies, and hand-me-down brown suede saddle shoes with replaced white laces — showing what a BIG GIRL she is by hanging from just one tiny arm and one tiny leg off this AWESOME, GROOVY, orange and lime-green 12 foot jungle-jim, play-structure tower in our backyard in Fresno, California in 1973. Such a gorgeous girl!

But, as adorable as Mo is…that is NOT the best part of this 41 year old family photograph, oh, no. Not by a LONG SHOT, baby. No, the BEST part of this small moment in my family’s visual history is just above Mo’s right shoulder.

You see those dimpled, ashy, Kewpie knees?

That, Mein Poppets, is my other sister, Jennifer.

Standing all by herself on a single, curved, lime-green, metal bar.

Standing all by herself on a single, curved, line-green, metal bar…that is 11 FEET IN THE AIR.

Standing all by herself on a single, curved, lime-green, metal bar that is 11 feet in the air…NAKED.

Standing all by herself on a single, curved, lime-green, metal bar that is 11 feet in the air…naked — and TWO MOTHERFUCKING YEARS OLD.

Standing all by herself on a single, curved, lime-green, metal bar that is 11 feet in the air…naked — and two motherfucking years old…HOLDING ON WITH JUST A SINGLE, CURVED, ORANGE METAL BAR IN ONE FAT ARMENIAN MEATHOOK.

Standing all by herself on a single, curved, lime-green, metal bar that is 11 feet in the air…naked — and two motherfucking years old…holding on with just a single, curved, orange metal bar in one fat Armenian meathook. And a FULL-ON, SLIPPERY, GREASY, HALF-EATEN, PILFERED STICK OF DANISH CREAMERY BUTTER IN THE OTHER.

A FULL-ON stick of Danish Creamery butter that she would lift from the fridge on a daily basis, peel down the wrapper, and EAT LIKE A GODDAMNED BANANA.

You wanna know where I come from, muthafuckas?

THIS IS WHERE I COME FROM.

Inane Muff Fact #517: I live in random, exquisite, obsessed, perpetual, inordinate, inexplicable terror of misspelling “misspelling.” In fact, I just double-checked the correct spelling of “misspelling”…and am now going to hit “post” — but not before I check the correct spelling of “misspelling” one last time, just to be safe. Okay, confirmed. Going to hit “post” now. Hitting. Okay, checking. Okay, hitting this time for real. Wait, is that two S’s and one L…or is it two L’s and one S? Or is it two and two? Fuck. YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS. Checking. Again. Okay, posting. Finally. Christ.

Jessuss don’t want me for a sunbeam.

“Muffy and Mimi, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

HOLY SHIT, I LOVE Mimi Pond!

First it was me and Miss Mimi at a FULL NAKIE Korean Spa in Downtown L.A. along with my brilliant muse, Helena G. Harvilicz — and now our next GIRL CRUSH DATE shall be us naked and encased in SENSORY DEPRIVATION FLOTATION TANKS.

LET’S DO THIS THING, MADGE!