Tuesday, March 30, 2010


I am now going to invoke two little words that, when spoken together, will mean absolutely nothing to the boys out there -- but will strike ABSOLUTE TERROR into the heart of anyone in possession of a cooter. Two words: TWO TAMPONS.

That is all.

Monday, March 29, 2010

gen x or boomer

For those trifling over the parameters of Generation X (a term that was popularized in modern usage by one Douglas Coupland, who was born in 1961), I have come up with a fool-proof method. Even though researchers generally agree that it stretches from 1961-1981, if you identify with the film The Breakfast Club, you are Gen X; if you identify with The Big Chill, you are a Boomer. By jove, I have solved the quandary!


Gosh, it just now hit me; how bizarre is it that in my over 25 years as a Women's Rights activist, the ONLY person I have ever known who actually used abortion as a form of birth control...was a Conservative Christian Republican?

blaque power

I've been stomping around with my granny panties in a wad, asking this same question for months: Where in the FUCK were all these tea-bagging patriots when we were getting ASS RAPED WITH NO LUBE by the Bush administration for nearly a decade?

And now, here it is being axed again by my awesome friend, the political blogger Jonathon Blaque -- only he does it a lot more cogently, intelligently, and with no profanity. Okay, maybe just one little F-bomb near the end...but really, who can blame him? However, it's when he boldly casts the "C" word that we REALLY get down to brass tacks here. Don't be fooled -- this ain't about patriotism OR policy, people -- it's about RACE. If these people genuinely cared -- or even fucking UNDERSTOOD, for that matter -- that which they are protesting, they would have been out there in droves when Bush and Cheney were dry-parking their meatbus in our caca lockers for nearly ten years...over and over and over again.

The biggest irony of all? These ignorant, inbred, illiterate fucks are precisely the people who will most benefit from the sweeping civil rights changes so boldly put forth by this administration. They bitch and moan and proudly protest with their Swastika signs (oh, the further irony!) and misspelled placards now, but you mark my goddamned words -- inside a year, it'll be these same misguided cocksuckers not only expecting but DEMANDING customer satisfaction from the medical care with which they have been so generously provided by all us unAmerican Socialists. And you can take THAT to the goddamned bank, my friends.

So...meet Jonathon Blaque...who flat BREAKS IT DOWN FOR A MOTHERFUCKER.

Blaque's Blog of Horrors

Friday, March 26, 2010


And speaking of online debauchery...there was the SENSIBLE TAUPE PUMP GUY -- and then there was the I AM OBSESSED WITH YOUR THIGH MUSCLES GUY. Whereas STPG just wanted me to pretend I was stuck in the mud and frantically pumping the gas pedal while he watched...IAOWYTMG wanted me to pretend that I was lying on my back in a rail-yard, wearing light blue Dolphin shorts, a tube-top, and tube socks, putting my feet up against the sides of massive boxcars, and PUSHING THEM OVER WITH SUPERHUMAN FORCE...all while I sang, "Rockytop" at the top of my lungs. Over and over and over again.

This is a true story.

sellouts and sicilians

You know, I feel genuine compassion for the fact that he is now an old man suffering and dying of prostate cancer...but I just gotta say: FUCK DENNIS HOPPER. How in the LOVING FUCK do you go from EASY RIDER to HARDCORE RIGHT-WING REPUBLICAN ASSMASTER in one goddamned lifetime? Talk about your pathetic, textbook, Boomer sellouts. Even the fact that he is one half of one of the most chilling, most riveting, most brilliant, most hilarious scenes in cinematic history doesn't get him off the hook, nor does it save his confused, deluded ass from the shitheap of POLITICAL MEATHOOKDOM.


Mather Zickel...THIS ONE'S FOR YOU:



A friend just reminded me of that most amusing night last year when I was surprised and delighted to discover -- via legions of belly laughing teenagers with cameras ringing my doorbell at all hours -- that "a picture of you kissing the fabulous Muffy" was, in fact, required procurement on a citywide high school scavenger hunt. I, of course, accommodated every last darling one of them.

Goddamn, my life is ONE HUGE BELLY LAUGH.

shoes, betch

Way back in the Internet Stone Age (mid-90s), my friends and I used to troll through AOL Chat Rooms looking for scandal and belly laughs -- oh, and trust me, WE FOUND 'EM. One guy from like Ohio wanted to have Cyber-Sex with me (remember that??), so, just for shits and giggles, I accommodated him. Being new to all that horseshit, I was absolutely STUNNED when he revealed his kink: He wanted me to pretend that I was driving a midsize sedan that was stuck in the mud...and that no matter how many times I frantically pressed down on the gas pedal -- WEARING A PAIR OF TAUPE PUMPS WITH A SENSIBLE HEEL -- I just couldn't get myself unstuck. I remember thinking, "YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS, PAL."

Well, fast forward to 2010 -- and, surprise, surprise -- come to find out that it is now a THING. When it comes to debauchery, it seems my fatass is ALWAYS ahead of the curve. You shoulda known that I always know where to find the boys AND the booze!

Pedal Pumpin' Motherfuckers

Thursday, March 25, 2010


Is it just me or is Shannen Doherty's face all screw-jiggy? Bitch has got one eye way higher than the other. She looks like a really lovely, really pissy, REALLY BUTCH Picasso painting with a shitty attitude.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

subterfuge girl

Someone recently asked me what was the first concert I attended. I was 12 and my parents took me to see The Beach Boys at Selland Arena in Fresno. I brought my vinyl copy of Pet Sounds with me in hopes of getting it autographed -- oh, and trust me, I did -- by all five of them...but only because my HOT, felonious, Filipina mother conned her way backstage by telling their manager her daughter was dying of cancer. Brian Wilson even wrote, "Get Well Soon!" before signing his name.

It is from this shameless, grifter's mindset which I sprang.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

rip, michael bryan

"Marie Osmond: My Mormon Faith Got Me Through Son's Death"

Sort of an ironic statement, don't you think...seeing that your intolerant, harsh, racist, sexist, homophobic, judgemental religion is most likely what caused him to take his young life in the first place.

As a mother, my heart breaks into a million pieces for you, Marie, and I openly wept when I heard the first news reports about what had happened. But with one gay son dead by his own hand and an openly lesbian daughter still here, you need to pull your Mormon head outta your Mormon ass and open your eyes to the goddamned truth: I have no doubt that your son was loved...but was he ACCEPTED -- fully and completely -- for exactly who and what he was? You know what -- strike "accepted." FUCK "ACCEPTED." Was he CELEBRATED?

You wanna honor your dead son, Marie? You want to ensure that both his life and his death had meaning? Then break ranks with your church and its horseshit dogma and archaic stance on homosexuality and become a bold, passionate voice for all those young, gay Mormons still here, still struggling with the rage and condemnation of their families and their church communities. Statistics show that gay teens are FOUR TIMES MORE LIKELY to attempt suicide than their heterosexual counterparts -- and one can only imagine how much higher those rates must skew amongst teens raised in religiously fundamentalist families. You have the power to change lives and to SAVE lives, Marie. Open your mind and open your heart -- and by your loving example, teach others in your church to do so, as well.

Do it for your beloved son, Michael, whom you called "your angel."

Do it for your openly lesbian daughter, Jessica, as she makes her way in a world that is still largely hostile towards anyone or anything considered "different" -- and, in its ignorance and hatred, frequently seeks to destroy or extinguish it.

Do it for ALL gay teens, suffering and struggling not just for the acceptance of themselves, but the acceptance of those they love.

Do it so that not one more "angel" has to tragically fall to earth not knowing just exactly how beautifully, exquisitely, divinely perfect they already were.

Requiescat in pace, Michael Bryan.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

chewbacca buffet

I'm telling you, people, I'm a goddamned clairvoyant. I called this one six months ago when I proudly announced to the world that my new stripper name was Chewbacca Buffet. So, ladies and gentlemen, without any further ado -- HERE I AM...IN ALL MY HOT, HIRSUTE, DIRTY, MATTED-FUN-FUR GLORY! Crawling across the stage...and CRAWLING WITH LICE.


Sunday, March 14, 2010

stay gold, motherfucker

I honestly believe that life basically comes down to a neverending battle between the Greasers and the Socs.

I am a Greaser.

dirty hippies

To all my tie-dyed, big-bushed, hairy-armpitted, patchouli-reeking comrades out there -- and god knows there are many: I love you and admire your commitment to protecting the earth, but GOOD GODDAMN...all your hippie household cleaning products don't work FOR SHI-OT, and for god's sake let's not pretend they do.

Tea Tree oil can kiss my fatass -- I need some ol' school Clorox bleach up in this motherfucker.

the claw

And while we're truth-telling about stuff you LOATHE that everyone else worships -- and man, oh, man, is my fatass gonna get reamed for THIS: THE SIMPSONS IS NO. It's always been NO, it'll always be NO, and Homer Simpson NEEDS TO TAKE BEANO. That fucking show is OFF-TRACK -- the animation color and style hurts my eyes and offends my tender aesthetic sensibilities, and goddamnit, the whole thing has just STAYED TOO LONG AT THE FAIR.

We need to dig up Paul Lynde, roll his ol' bones out, and bring back WACKY RACES. Now THAT'S ANIMATED ENTERTAINMENT AT ITS VERY FINEST, people!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010


I am trying to write and am feeling all baggied-out and sketchy. I need another cup of coffee like Paris Hilton needs her pussy stretched

Monday, March 8, 2010


It's International Women's Day, my friends -- celebrating, honoring, supporting, protecting, empowering, uniting, and championing every woman on the planet. But to reach every woman...we have to start with JUST ONE GIRL.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

so sick of goodbyes

a happy man

For the past month, Gregory and I have been on an absolute Sparklehorse jag -- listening to practically nothing else. Yesterday, we even had a long conversation about Mark Linkous and the genius that he brings to his art. We googled him and found out about his past and the struggles he has endured and survived. So, it is with stunned horror that I find he took his own life yesterday. The loss to music is incalculable.

I am just numb. Mark Linkous has provided so much of the most important, profound, and inspiring background music of my current life. Such a fucking loss to us all.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

a proud heritage

Little-known Muff Fact #698: I am one quarter Filipina. That's right, mein lieblings -- my grandfather, Gaudencio Viloria, was born in Manila and kept a severed goat's head on a platter in his gottdamned refrigerator at all times. His own father, my great-grandfather, hacked my great-grandmother to death with a machete in a jealous rage late one fateful night, and then finished himself off with it, as well. You think your family’s fucked-up? TOP THAT, MOTHERFUCKER.

Friday, March 5, 2010


"It's rare in Hollywood to get the chance to work on something that you actually care about. The tragedy of the place is all these talented people trying to get excited about stuff they themselves would only view at gunpoint." -- writer/director Stephen Gaghan

into the great wide open

Muffy waited 'til she finished high school. She went to Hollywood, got a tattoo. She met a boy out there with a tattoo, too. The future was wide open.


"If we were in the 17th century, you don't think he'd be a pirate? All the guys in Motorhead are pirates. He's Captain Hook." -- Alice Cooper, waxing poetic about Lemmy Kilmister of Motorhead.

When this movie is FINALLY fucking released sometime this year, I cannot get my fatass to that theatre fast enough -- and, in fact, have an entire EVENT planned around the evening with my almost 16 year old son and all his dudes.


Thursday, March 4, 2010

coot-scootin' boogie

Sorry about the lag-time in my regularly scheduled barrage of profanity, mundanity, and insanity. I've been dealing with some hideous and insistent plumbing problems -- both the house's and MY OWN. Yessiree...going to the Doktor de la Vagine later this afternoon, which, as most ladies are well aware, requires a three hour prep-period -- well, those ladies with dignity and a Mediterranean heritage, anyway. At any rate, my undercarriage will now be boiled, chiseled, shaved, and blessed by a priest in anticipation of the big event. Wish me luck!

write, quite write...ya bloody well write

I am absolutely THRILLED to hear that I've provided the inspiration for a BALLBUSTIN' DAME character in a brilliant writer friend's novel-in-progress. Can't wait to read the finished story. God, I hope she's a whore.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010


Let me say, as I verily quiver with righteous anger, that I have fucking HAD IT with the cavalier attitude regarding violence against women in this goddamned country. Make no mistake -- violence against women is the most commonly perpetrated act of civil terrorism committed here and all over the world and we need to treat it as such. Retribution needs to be SWIFT and HARSH. Men need to be taught from an early age that it is ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE to EVER lay a hand on a woman with the aim to bully, punish, control, or harm -- and this is NON-FUCKING-NEGOTIABLE. I'm gettin' REAL SICK of hearing new stories every day about women being threatened, attacked, beaten, raped, and murdered...because some PIECE-OF-SHIT COCKSUCKER WITH A MINISCULE DICK couldn't control his own rage and twisted compulsions.

I should not be afraid to walk ANYWHERE at ANYTIME for fear of being attacked.

My two daughters should not be afraid.

My sisters, friends, and colleagues should not be afraid.

Lily Burk, Annie Le, and now Chelsea King -- whose 17 year old body has just been found in a shallow grave near San Diego and identified by her parents -- should not have been afraid.

All the nameless, faceless, young women of color -- who are apparently without value or worth in their own goddamned country -- who disappear or are murdered every single day and whose names we never hear on the evening news because their tragic, anonymous deaths don't matter to a fucking racist, classist, misogynist culture that certainly didn't valued them in their lives. They should not have been afraid.



Tuesday, March 2, 2010

cute little bunnies and chickies

This one goes out to all you muthafuckas who think they ain't seen nothin' GOOD today.

oh, sherry!

"My great Aunt Jennifer ate a whole box of candy every day of her life. She lived to be 102, and when she had been dead three days, she looked better than you do now." -- Sheridan Whiteside, The Man Who Came To Dinner

part woof

Have you ever noticed that convicts, outlaws, bikers, and old stoners ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS claim to be "part Cherokee on my mother's side"? What the fuck is that all about? And that no matter what kind of dog they have, it's always "part wolf."

ass in chair, hands on keys, shut the fuck up.

To be a writer, first and foremost...one must WRITE -- ass in chair, hands on keys. Quit talkin' about it and JUST FUCKING DO IT.

As Stephen King says, "It is, after all, the dab of grit that seeps into an oyster’s shell that makes the pearl...not pearl-making seminars with other oysters."

he's a monstoo

While watching CNN this morning, my very cerebral 15 year old son made me BELLY LAUGH OUT LOUD when, completely out of the blue, he turned to me and said in all seriousness, "Barack Obama is the first human president I can remember."

Such a clever, clever boy.

take your medicine

Painfully True Admission #714: When I was little, I HONESTLY believed that licking the backs of Easter Seals helped immunize you against crippling childhood muscular diseases.

I am not lying about this.

breasts and thighs

Painfully True Muff Admission #427: When I was a little girl, I also really and truly thought that Foster Farms was a home for unwanted chickens. I would always PLEAD with my mother to buy the Foster Farms brand chicken because I genuinely believed that they had already been rejected by their own mothers and forced to live in a chicken foster home...so the VERY least we could do was bring them home with us.

You can't make this shit up.

boil that dust-speck!

I am watching "Woodstock", the documentary -- and try as I might, I am just not getting anything either stardust OR golden up in this motherfucker. All I can see are lots of undulating white people with greasy hair, filthy iceholes, and ZERO FUCKING RHYTHM -- although ol' spastic Joe Cocker is definitely rocking the living shit out of With A Little Help From My Friends. This movie just makes me want to go baby wipe my bunghole.

"oh, sweet mystery of life, at last i've found you!"

"Each must bear his cross, and THAT...is his." -- Proskovia Rasputin, when she walked in on her infamously well-endowed husband, Grigori, and another woman.

tell it, little sister!

"'Dear Doug, I received your message that you weren't coming to my graduation. Doug, this is not the kind of thing that occurs between adults. Maybe you've found someone new, someone more mature. But if you ask me, Doug, you're the one being childish. Anyhow, if you think I'm gonna sit around and wait for you, forget it. Sincerely, Linda.' What do you think? I have another version where I call him an asshole."


Muff Rule #1612: Anyone who dares refer to Pink Floyd as "The Floyd" in my presence, gets my fucking black Dansko clog inserted directly into their icehole.


Muff Fact #216: When my now teenaged son, Otis, was a baby, I took him grocery shopping with me one day and was busy unloading my grub for the cashier when I noticed her looking over at him sort of oddly. When I glanced over, I noticed him happily chewing away on something he had dug out of my purse: A STRAND OF WHITE ANAL-BEADS THAT A FRIEND HAD GIVEN ME AS A JOKE THE DAY BEFORE. With a bored Ethel Mertz ducklip face, I just shrugged my shoulders and kept loading my stuff onto the conveyor belt.

my fatass? kisseth

Oh, and by the way...all you right wing pricks whining that Obama hasn't fixed us up all nice yet: FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU. It took your boy, Bush, 8 years of ass-raping us with no lube to get us where we are in the first place. Give this poor bastard a chance -- he's only cleaning up Republican feces, after all. Where were all you goddamned tea-baggin' patriots when W&Co. was parking their meat bus in your ca-ca locker for nearly a decade? FUCK OFF.

bang, bang

I don't know about you, but I think it's completely awesome that Roger Ebert and Oprah used to bang around back in the day. It's proof positive that you're NEVER TOO FAT TO FUCK -- and trust me, I OUGHTA KNOW.

they call me mella hella

HA! This made me belly laugh out loud and therefore, I shall sign their goddamned petition post-haste. The funniest part to me is not so much the actual street slang provenance of the term "hella" -- the funniest part to me is THAT HELLA AS A MATHEMATICAL PREFIX ALREADY SOUNDS COMPLETELY LEGIT TO MY EAR. I mean "hellaton"? THAT'S BONAFIDE, baby. Let's do this thing.

Hella-sign this bitch already.