muffy bolding

Just in case there was ever any doubt, DOUBT NO MORE:

I AM THE RHODA.

I just happened upon this awesome finger tattoo, designed to be a built-in measuring tool for knitters. When figuring out gauge for a new project, no more scrambling for a ruler or measuring tape — it’s right there on your meathook! As a devoted, obsessive knitter, I think this measuring tool would be delightfully helpful and convenient.

Of course, alternatively speaking as an Old Hooker/Size Queen…trust me — this motherfucker would be PRICELESS.

Goddamnit, this old broad is THE VERY ESSENCE OF ON TRACK.

“Get at least eight hours of beauty sleep. Nine if you’re ugly.” — Betty White

TELL IT, LITTLE SISTER!

“People always ask me, You have so much confidence. Where did that come from? It came from me. One day I decided that I was beautiful, and so I carried out my life as if I was a beautiful girl . It doesn’t have anything to do with how the world perceives you. What matters is what you see.” — Gabourey Sidibe

The very best part of this, aside, of course, from this fabulous old broad speaking her truth? She’s NEVER, EVER looked better.

“You know, my hair is very upsetting to people, but it’s upsetting on purpose. It is important to look old so that the young will not be afraid of dying. People don’t like old women. We don’t honor age in our society, and we certainly don’t honor it in Hollywood.” — Miss Tyne Daly

I do my very best thinking when I am floating in my daily hot bath. There amongst the steam and suds, my notorious imagination is free to wander where it may. Today, it wandered here — a place where it seems to be landing quite frequently as of late. It’s true…I’ve got broads on the brain:

Some women are afraid to tell their truths, admit their regrets, or cop to their mistakes, because they fear that it will somehow make them appear weak — but, as I have learned in my own life, it is, in fact, exactly the opposite. When women tell their truths, not only do THEY become more powerful — they, in turn, empower the younger women around them…to not be afraid to make mistakes, to have regrets, to tell their own truths.

We MUST tell our truths. It is the only way back.

And more importantly, it is the only way FORWARD.

This is what I think about in the bathtub.

I post this picture today with a huge smile on my face and great affection and gratitude in my heart for all those marvelous employers in my past who, when it was at all possible, allowed me to show up for work with one or more of my children in tow. As a result of their forward-thinking and open-minded largesse, I have, among other things, answered phones, served food, sold Feminist books and zines, written newspaper articles, organized women’s rights demonstrations, edited newsletters, and cleaned other people’s houses — all with a sweet, suckling, slumbering monkey strapped to my chest or slung onto my back. And believe me, it wasn’t just a political or revolutionary act for me to have done so — though, looking back now, I very clearly realize that it certainly was that, as well. No, for a young, working-class family just starting out, like we were, it frequently meant the difference between groceries or no groceries.

The gift that was given to me by these employers was two-fold: 1.) Because I could bring my baby with me, I didn’t have to pay a babysitter — and thus my entire desperately-needed paycheck was mine to keep. And 2.) Because I had my child with me, my mind and heart were there with me, as well — and that contributed always to focus and excellence in my work. I was helped personally, financially, professionally, and creatively. It made me a better employee and it made me a better mother — which is, of course, the most important job in the world: creating and shaping extraordinary human beings.

So, to all employers, managers, business owners, professional organizations, multi-national corporations, and governmental bodies who both encourage and support women and mothers on their journeys toward becoming the most fulfilled, prosperous, empowered, amazing beings they can be…

a most grateful and heartfelt THANK YOU.

“European Member of Parliament, Licia Ronzulli (an MEP from Italy), took her seven-week old daughter, Victoria, to work at the European Parliament in Strasbourg. [It was not a ‘Take-Your-Child-to-Work’ event.] She kept her baby carefully cradled against her in a wrap and occasionally leant to kiss her on the forehead. This photo was taken as she voted on proposals to improve women’s employment rights and was broadcast and published in newspapers around the world.”

Just a friendly little Public Service Announcement for all you asshole parents out there who are raising a sensitive, awesome, intelligent, artistic, creative, highly observant child…that you ruthlessly fuck with, torment, abuse, neglect, and/or exploit:

Smile, Motherfuckers. YOU’RE GONNA BE FAMOUS.

Public restroom self-portrait — i.e., a shithouse life study — of a fancy, feral, feisty, felonious, fearless, Fat Girl from Fresno.

The Echo, Los Angeles, July 2012.

Though she has no children of her own, she refers to herself as “The Grandmother of Performance Art”. She is bold, provocative, in-your-fucking-face, unswerving, unafraid to gaze directly into the abyss, to plumb its depths, to drag her nails along its black, sludgy bottom. She is a complete original. Her fearlessness makes me gasp and weep and cheer. She is the goddamned Honey Badger of the art world: “SHE DOESN’T GIVE A SHIT.”

In other words…I wanna be Marina Abramović when I grow up.