truth. mine.

To My Three Beautiful Babies: If you have a dream, don't let ANYONE or ANYTHING stop you from making it come true. People are threatened by excellence and will attempt to thwart you on your journey, by whatever small or petty means possible -- by trying to undermine you or even by laying claim to you and all that you've done. Just toss them a DAZZLING smile, throw your head back, and BELLY LAUGH in their motherfucking faces -- and push onward toward your destiny.

aubergine bagina

Wait a minute. YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS. Are you seriously telling me that [insert famous film and television actress' name here] HAS A PORT WINE STAIN ON HER VAGINA?

God, I love my indiscreet friends.

w/bff

Despite the fact that he was hideous, reprehensible, and shamelessly malfeasant during his two terms as president, of the following I have very little doubt: That it would be a goddamned blast to hang with George W. Bush for a lost weekend. I'd seriously like to party with THAT cowboy. I think he's a shitkicker, a BELLY LAUGHER, and just plain doesn't give a shit. I honestly think he and I would be the best of friends.

Once a Jackal...ALWAYS a Jackal.

truth. mine -- and my friends'.

To all those judgmental bastards who are contemptuous and disdainful of my friends, i.e., the queers, queens, artists, painters, cartoonists, writers, singers, musicians, film makers, actors, dancers, fashion designers, game designers, producers, publishers, hookers, et al...I say this:

Disapprove all you want, motherfuckers, because my degenerate ilk HAS always and WILL always have the last laugh. Tell me...just who do you think creates all the culture that your children hungrily consume? And who, consequently, do you think ponies up the simolians to pay for it?

Yeah. FUCK OFF, LADY...and thanks for the money.

"i'm sorry i didn't build you a better boat, young jackie..."

My awesome friend, Drag Superstar Miss Jackie Beat, is currently performing on a gay cruise somewhere in the Pacific...and when she left, I posted the following on her Facebook wall:

"Honey, when that fucking garbage scow starts to go under and Captain Stubing announces that they are loading the lifeboats -- starting with WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST -- bitch...just straighten that wig, check that lipstick, tuck it back, and WERK!"

truth. gilda's.

"I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive." -- Gilda Radner

join me, won't you?

Muffy Bolding is takin' a SLOW BOAT TO CAYUCOS.

truth. roseanne's. and now mine, too.

If I were ever asked to come up with a single-line manifesto for how it is that I choose to live my life...this would be it. This brilliant, ballsy, extraordinary, self-created broad is an absolute inspiration to me, and I hope to be lucky enough to someday work with her:

"The thing women have yet to learn is nobody gives you power. You just take it." -- Roseanne Barr

truth. emo's.

As I sit here in my favorite Target schmata, guzzling a cup of TRULY amazing coffee on this gloriously wet and gloomy Sunday morning -- Gregory and the beloved pups still asleep on the bed beside me -- I am reminded of a quote from the BRILLIANT Emo Phillips that makes me belly laugh every goddamned time:

"A Mormon told me that they don't drink coffee. I said, 'A cup of coffee every day gives you wonderful benefits.' He said, 'Like what?' I said, 'Well, it keeps you from being Mormon...'"

truth. artie's.

"I called to the executioners that I might gnaw their rifle-butts while dying." -- Arthur Rimbaud

muffy and mikie sittin' in a tree

I'm madly in love with Michael Gross. There, I said it, motherfuckers. Oh...and I also said "motherfuckers" -- which, apparently, he finds endlessly amusing...which further means that I shall sashay about shouting it from the rooftops of the world until the end of time just to make him laugh.

Oh, wait...I do that NOW. Nevermind.

He is a Mensch, a King Raconteur, a darling man, and now, a precious friend.

My luck is without end.

papa DOUCHE

FUCK Ernest Hemingway. I hate him SO goddamned much for how he treated Scott Fitzgerald. He was such a smug, cruel, sadistic, histrionic, LATENT fucking meathook, that to this day, I can't read his work without becoming highly hostile. Yeah...I know that this is bidness, but I don't give a shit about propriety. For me, this is PERSONAL.

PAPA CAN SUCK MY DICK.

frau harshman

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l'chaim

Sometimes when I am watching a movie -- I not only hear the dialogue as it being spoken...but I also see the dialogue as it is written on the page, complete with direction. Occupational hazard, I suppose -- but trust me, WELL WORTH THE GOTTDAMNED MERRIMENT AND ADVENTURE I AM FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO EXPERIENCE EVERY MOTHERLOVING DAY OF MY LIFE.

truth. mine.

Muff Fact #72: I NEVER, EVER write better...than while I am knitting.

15 in 15 (frogged from facebook)

The Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen authors (poets included) who've influenced you and that will always stick with you. List the first fifteen you can recall in no more than fifteen minutes. Tag at least fifteen friends, including me, because I'm interested in seeing what authors my friends choose. (To do this, go to your Notes tab on your profile page, paste rules in a new note, cast your fifteen picks, and tag people in the note.)

1. David Foster Wallace

2. Dorothy Parker

3. Anne Sexton

4. Fran Lebowitz

5. Ted Hughes

6. Hunter Thompson

7. Doug Kenney

8. Scott Fitzgerald

9. Alexander Woollcott

10. George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart

11. Truman Capote

12. W.S. Merwin

13. Mark Twain

14. Pablo Neruda

15. Judy Blume

I ain't taggin' a GOTTdamned thing. Do it if you want to -- and if not...FUCK OFF, LADY.

viva chile!

Goddamn, I am saying fervent prayers of hope and gratitude for those 33 Chilean miners and their families -- as well as thanks that it's not ME down there as, a) I'm claustrophobic like a motherfucker, b) I would never last that long without a babywipe on my bunghole, and c) I'M FAR TOO FAT TO FIT IN THAT AWESOME, RETRO, MID-CENTURY MODERN, TOMORROWLAND RESCUE CAPSULE.

Viva Chile!

...'cuz you're playin' with fire

I LOVE IT when skinny little cookie-cutter hipster kids sneer "Breeder" at me under their breath when they find themselves in line behind me and my perilously overflowing cart at Trader Joe's...with their lone tub of tahini and bottle of Two Buck Chuck. After I check out and load up all the yummy grub that will feed my fab, rambling brood, I like to turn, flash them a DEVASTATING smile, blow them a kiss, grab my vagina, and exclaim, "SUCK MY DICK, SKINNY LITTLE COOKIE-CUTTER HIPSTER KIDS!"


Think I don't?

say it ain't so, mo

I feel like I've been eaten by a wolf and shit off a cliff.

Where is your god now, Moses?

the axe

I was recently asked, "What is the #1 reason you would defriend someone on Facebook?"

My answer:

Goddamnit, I verily LIVE to hear about all my friends' latest interesting projects, shindigs, happenings, adventures, incarnations, love affairs, and skullduggery -- it is what makes Facebook such a glorious, reciprocal, creative place to hang out and fuck around. It is the ULTIMATE worldwide water cooler!

HOWEVER...with that said, I suspect that most people will agree with me when I say that wearing out one's welcome with constant, annoying, repetitive, relentless, thrice-hourly promotions of your band, your book, your zine, your show, your miracle multi-level-marketing Andalusian Goat Load elixir, your organic Asshole Bleaching bidness, your "1001 Placenta Polenta Recipes" cooking blog, your Squat-Hop-in-the-Asparagus-Patch Vaginal Jazzercise modern dance classes, or your feminist "Menstrual Blood Warpaint Workshop" -- with SCARCELY ANYTHING ELSE of interest posted from you -- will get your fatass "hidden" on my wall feed quicker than the shameless dropping of my granny panties in the presence of one starkers Clive Owen -- and you'll never even know that I feel nothing but contempt and disdain for you. It'll just be my little secret.

However, if you truly wish to make the leap from merely annoying me to PISSING MY FATASS OFF, here's how you do it: being consistently rude, discourteous, insulting, and aggressive towards my other Facebook friends in my comments -- I am talking people that you don't know, nor have any affection or loyalty towards -- when they have done nothing to warrant such treatment from you. This unacceptable, inexcusable behavior will initially get you a couple of friendly warnings from me about the rules in my clubhouse. If you continue, you will be unfriended YESTERDAY. No discussion, no explanation, no nothing. After that, no matter how much you may beg, plead, or attempt to explain yourself and your bad form and poor manners, you will simply cease to exist for me. The way I look at it is, YOU GOT WHAT YOU APPARENTLY WANTED AND WORKED SO FUCKING HARD TO GET. You earned it. Congratulations...and goodbye.

Discourse, passion, joviality, debate? ALL GOOD, and I encourage it wholeheartedly -- just don't cross the fucking line. You wanna swagger, strut, spar, and show everyone how big your comedy dick is? YOU DO IT WITH ME, bitches, not my komrades.

In other words, I am the nicest, warmest, most welcoming person in the world...but do NOT fuck with my friends -- friends who, for the most part, have the vicious, biting wit and devastating verbal acumen to destroy you in two sentences or less all on their own...but that's beside the point. Just do me a fat fucking favor and don't come over to my Tupperware party, squat, and take a big, steaming dump in the middle of my shag rug all because mommy didn't hug you enough and daddy hugged you TOO MUCH. Do that at your own place, motherfucker...lest I be forced to UNLEASH THE KRAKEN.

Ultimately, if I learned one thing growing up in a family of scoundrels, criminals, shitkickers, and thieves, it is this: Discord is a bitch -- and it isn't even any fun...and let's face it, that's all I really care about on Facebook: Having fun. If you disagree, then I'm sorry...but, FUCK OFF, LADY.

So, you see, it really is SO simple, kids. JUST PLAY NICE over there and Mama will be happy -- and when Mama's happy, EVERYBODY'S happy...and we'll all be the best of friends. Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning!

That is all.

fever

This raging, relentless fever is making me feel wistful for places I've never been and people I've never met.

Tell me true: Is this longing? Or regret?

oh, dhani boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling...

After George Harrison's death on 29 November 2001, his son, Dhani Harrison, in collaboration with Jeff Lynne, completed George's final album, Brainwashed, which was released in 2002. He participated in the Concert for George on the first anniversary of his father's death. The concert was organized by Eric Clapton and featured some of George's friends and collaborators, including Eric Clapton, Billy Preston, Ravi Shankar, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty, Ringo Starr, and Paul McCartney. Dhani Harrison played backup acoustic guitar for most of the concert.

So uncanny is his resemblance to his dead father, that, during the show, a stunned McCartney turned to Dhani and told him, "You look more like George Harrison than George Harrison looked like George Harrison."

Then later, just before the finale, McCartney relayed to the audience, "Olivia [George's widow] said that with Dhani up on stage, it looks like George stayed young...and we all got old."

Dhani Harrison:

funny...you don't LOOK flu-ish

A few potentially psychotic and disdain-inducing health-related questions for my clever, clever friends:

1) Alright...so tell me true: Is the flu utter and complete horseshit -- or does it truly exist?

2) What the fuck IS the flu? What are its symptoms and have you ever had it? How bad was it? How bad can it actually be?

3) How do you get the flu, prevent the flu, and are there, in fact, different strains and strengths of the flu -- as in, "Oh, maybe you've just got a little flu virus?" Is it even possible to have a "LITTLE flu virus"?

4) When all these people say they have the flu -- do they really and truly have the flu or are they just confused and/or misinformed and/or overreacting and/or full of shit and/or just trying to get out of work so they can stay home in their jammies, eat Pop Tarts, watch The Banana Splits, play World of Warcraft, and jerk off?

5) Did all those goddamned people really and truly die in 1918 from something that I scarcely believe even exists? Is it really that fucking bad? And further, with all the advancements in medicine and technology, and all the hygiene standards and practices we have in place today, could a flu epidemic of that magnitude still really happen in 2010?

This might all sound completely insane, so I am imploring you to please remember that it is coming from a place of delirious illness, ignorance, impatience, idiocy, intolerance, ire, AND frustration, mein poppets. I am one of those people who just simply does NOT get sick -- or to be more specific, who does not get sick with the flu or common cold. It just doesn't happen -- and yet, here I sit, mired in my very own fever, chills, malaise, and tummy trauma. OFF TRACK.

You see, when I get sick, it tends to be a major, chronic, rare, incurable, debilitating, life-altering piece-of-shit sort of disease that involves daily needles, high profile medical specialists, and Vocal Reverberation Under Spinal Pressure (you know, V.R.U.S.P?) It is simply incomprehensible to me that I might be felled by something as ordinary as the fucking flu; I am used to much fiercer, more formidable opponents than this, goddamnit.

So, yes, this little tantrum I'm throwing could very well be yet another manifestation of my self-delusional and perpetually Magical Thinking, but I find myself just utterly gobsmacked to be taken down by something as...common...as a common cold or flu -- because although I feel like complete feces at the moment, the gods usually kick my fatass FAR harder and WAY farther across the Universe than this.

Whatever.

BRING IT.

requiescat in pace, nana miller

"My, my, my...isn't THIS a festive table?" -- RIP Nancy Miller, a long-time director at the dinner theatre back home where we all got our start, all those many years ago in Fresno. The wry, talented, and quite formidable Miss Miller forced us all to BUTCH IT THE FUCK UP, just to survive that felonious city -- and for that, I thank her from the bottom of my wicked heart.

Long may your Carlton cig and cabbie hat wave, Nana Miller!

happy 120th birthday, groucho!

"You know, I don't believe in religion, or the hereafter. Not at all. I discussed the subject with Chico and Harpo a couple of years before they died. They said they'd get in touch with me if there were a hereafter. But you know what? I never heard a word. Not a goddamn word."-- Julius Henry "Groucho" Marx

october

Judging by the legions of friends posting of their undying affection for the tenth month in their Facebook status updates today, apparently I am not alone in my rapture and exaltation at the arrival of October, the most magnificent month of them all.

With October comes the beginning of the cold, the grey, the wind, the mysteries, the spirits, the shadows, the spectres...the dark. This is the time of year when we latch the shutters and light the fires. It is the time when we turn inward, dig deep, re-evaluate our lives, and celebrate the lives of those who have preceded us into history.

For me, it is a month to honor my feminine ancestors and to acknowledge all that has been passed to me and through me. A lot of ballsy broads had to risk an AWFUL LOT all so that I might live deliberately, fully, and with no fear...in complete control of my own destiny and free from the subjugation of ANY MAN. This is the time of year when I light candles to those women, thank them with all my heart, and promise them that I, too, will be mindful and vigilant of the young women and girls who will come after me. This time of year I like to rededicate myself to the feminine moon who is always there to light my way through the dark, should I ever call upon her to do so.

But, come every October, most importantly of all (well, according to an adorable, scratchy-voiced three year old Baby Goat, anyway), "I LIKE TO KEEP IT REAL SPOOKY."

So, kill the lights, bitches -- and BRING ON THE DARKNESS.

demolition derby, 2010, l.a. county fair

Yep. The "Sweet Spot" at the intersection of T.S. Eliot, Sophie Tucker, and Junior Samples.

That'd be me.

"oh, sammy!"

Someone wrote and asked me for my top ten favorite television characters of all time -- and you know me, goddamnit...I aim to please, live to knit, and love to schtupp -- though, what that has to do with beloved tv characters in ANY WAY is beyond me. Better push on.

At any rate, here they are...in no particular order:


Titus Pullo from HBO's Rome

Andy Botwin from Weeds

Gomez Addams from The Addams Family

Beavis from Beavis and Butthead

Uncle Arthur from Bewitched

Jane Tennison from Prime Suspect

Neil Pye from The Young Ones

Atia of The Julii from HBO's Rome

Maggie Jacobs from Extras

Eric Cartman from South Park