It's been a crazy week here in Mintown. I'm just happy that it's Friday and that I have a seat at the pub with my name on it.

But before we kick off the weekend, I would just like to make a quick soliloquy, a la Peter Griffin:

What Grinds My Gears

You know what grinds my gears? Being referred to while in the office as part of "the girls". Did I step away to the powder room and re-enter the office through a time-portal that whisked us back to 1950? I went to college. I did my little stint as an administrative assistant. I'm just as competent as you, despite the fact that I don't have a pecker. So the next time you decide to tell one of our clients what adorable little thing "the girls" put together for an upcoming business trip, try using names and/or titles when referring to your female co-worker(s).

Ask anyone, and they'll tell you, I'm the last person you would call a feminist. But Jesus H. Christ, I worked hard to be where I am; I will not be clumped together with the fucking receptionist. Say one more thing, sir, and I'll subserviently hand your little stubby to you on a platter.

The Hiltonator

Ski goggles. On the beach. It's hot.

Don't Pity Jennifer

Hi. I'm Jennifer Aniston; I recently told some magazine (which one I have forgotten and Min is waaaaay too lazy to actually look it up) not to pity me. See, here? I'm happy. See how happy? I'm really happy. I could care less that I have to make love to a gigantic, hairy bear, or that he kinda always smells. He's funny. And loyal. And who the Hell cares that Brad knocked up the hottest woman on the face of the planet and is all happy and shit because he's having a baby with someone who lets him fly a plane to all these countries to adopt babies and I mean someone who does something like that seriously has to have a void in their life but not me I'm totally happy. With my big, hairy bear.

Nicole Richie Might Be Dead

Recently photographed on the beach with ex-fiance, and apparently current boyfriend, DJ A.M., Nicole Richie plays dead. She even gets a belly rub for being a good little bitch. Now...roll over! Roll over! Who's at the door!? Is someone at the door, girl?! Go get 'em!

Cletus Is On Fire

Mc K-Fed has decided to name his upcoming debut album, set to be released in August of this year, Playing With Fire. You see, people, not only is Cletus just the hottest piece of white trash ass on the face of this planet, he also uses cliches to display his creative intelligence. This is the point where I break down and cry because he probably spent the day buying a $700 penny just for fun while I tool around onli...I mean...work.

And so I take my vengeance by putting old high school photos of ugly pseudo-celebrities on the web...

I Give You: Bobby Trendy

I get it. You're Asian. And gay. Puffins will be so disappointed in his fellow gaysian.

Busted Tees

I can't figure out which one to buy; they're all just too precious. For our friend Wombat from Kiss & Blog, I choose this one. But do I want this one? Or this one? Or maybe this one? We'll have a poll. And if I don't like what you pick, I'll just get one that I like anyway.

Even Hollywood Gods Make Mistakes

Brad Pitt used to date Juliet Lewis. She's the person shown here. All I can think is that either Brad was crazy, or Juliet was really good in bed, which means I still have a shot either way.

Cynic's Fashion Edition

Dear Ms. Parker:

Why you are continually added to Hollywood's "Best Dressed" lists is beyond me. For the three years you greedily hung on to the 1950's housedress style, worn by the likes of Beaver's mom, I refused to watch Sex & the City (although that had more to do with me not having cable because it's an unnecessary expense when you are young and have a weekend alcohol dependency to nourish). Therefore I say with all seriousness, that if you plan on bringing back sequins or even think of inventing a "Vegas Show Girl" style, I won't go see your new-ish movie with Matthew McConaughey (even though I hadn't planned on it anyway because to be honest I'm sick of the romantic comedies and after seeing something as kick-ass as V for Vendetta I feel like all movies should have substance and be related to overthrowing oppressive governments whilst wielding knives).

Sincerely,
Never Been a Fan

The Nutcracker Sweet Jesus What Are You Wearing?!

Though this certainly isn't the worst thing Bai Ling has ever been photographed wearing, she should be killed for donning it just the same. Someone has to be made an example of.

Sharon Stone Is Crazy

Continuing her futile attempt to persuade Jews and Arabs alike that Americans aren't self-absorbed, scary white people, Sharon Stone toured Tel Aviv this past week in an outfit that can only be described as "1970's factory-assembly-line-chic meets African-Dashiki-Hollywood-glam". Only, you know...without the glam. But those shades are rockin'. And by rockin' I mean she stole them from Bono while he was providing real help to starving orphans with cleft palates.

Mischa Barton Is Trendy

Can someone please tell me why this vision of skinny prepubescence is considered a sex symbol to anyone other than a pedophile? I think I wore that exact same outfit in 4th grade, minus the suspenders because suspenders were NEVER cool. And...are those elastic jean shorts? The words "jean shorts" are hard enough to type without going apoplectic, but elastic?! Are you f-ing kidding me?!

Disco Inferno

What up, bitches?! It's the C to the H to the L to the O to the E. I'm so totally stoked about my upcoming gig in which I play a love interest to a polygamist played by...are you ready? Are you sure you're ready? Bill Paxton! I know, you're like, so totally jealous and shit. A real actor! I mean, Twister? Apollo 13? He's so accomplished! Not like that serial-killer look alike Vincent. I was so jazzed about being one of his three wives in the show, that I made sure to wear a dress that has absolutely no support for my supple sistahs, if you know what I'm sayin'! And just check out these kicks, man! Totally Gloria Gaynor circa 1978. Yeah...I'm totally happy with the way my life is turning out. All you naysayers can suck it! Peace!

J-Lo Is Happy

Jesus, Jenny From the Block. I know you're married to a zombie, but it's the F-ing Oscars. It wouldn't kill you to smile. But your husband might. I wouldn't turn my back on him is all I'm saying.

Lesbians Heart Angelina

According to a recent poll in Diva magazine (no, I didn't know there was such a thing either), lesbians fantasize the most about having some girl on girl action with Angelina Jolie. Shocking, I know.

The top ten are:

1) Angelina Jolie
2) Portia De Rossi
3) Gina Gershon
4) Sharon Stone
5) Jodie Foster - Really?
6) Queen Latifah
7) Halle Berry
8) Charlize Theron
9) Salma Hayek
10) Drew Barrymore

Since Portia De Rossi is the only actual lesbian on this list (currently dating Ellen Degeneres), I can see how she made it. Angelina is a given, as I'm sure Jesus Christ Himself spanks his one-eyed wonder monkey to her pictures (I already know I'm going to Hell, no hate mail needed). Even Salma Hayek is pretty hot. But where is my Scarlett? And my new obsession, Lucy Lu? Lucy's hot. She speaks Mandarin. She could break your freaking neck with a karate chop. C'mon, guys! Are you with me? But Sharon Stone is number 4 on the list, reminding me why I am not, in fact, a lesbian. Or a man.

What are you so happy about Haylie Duff? The fact that your career - if you want to call a brief stint as a pregnant, unwed college kid on 7th Heaven, a role in Napoleon Dynamite and a very unsexy spread in Maxim (in which sales historically plunged to negative 10 because subscribers demanded their money back after having paid up front for a whole year's worth of what is essentially soft core porn) a career - is hanging precariously on what little popularity your little sister has left with the tween population? Or is it because you're totally rocking a silk scarf straight from the sweat houses of India to the opening of a new Hollywood gym? And secondly, I didn't think horses were allowed indoors anymore. Because of code violations or something.

Christmas In March

I couldn't wait until December. I tried, and only lasted four seconds after downloading the picture. It's because I love you.

McCletus Will Strip For Money

Apparently annoyed at the recent reports that his wife put sperm donor, Kevin Federline, on a budget, he says when his upcoming debut album (that has been "upcoming" for like a year now, just get it the Hell out so I have a diplomatic reason for assassinating you) bombs, he'll:

"be at your local strip club, but I'll be the one dancing."

I don't know about you, but just thinking about seeing that swollen bag of a man naked gets my mojo flowing. I'm a sucker for moobs (man-boobs, for all you plebeians).

Oklahoma!

I don't normally go for the muscular guys. I, like my gasian pimp counterpart, typically fall in love with intelligent, geek-chic. However, as I watched Pitch Black (shut up, someone made me watch it) I couldn't help but stare at Vin Diesel and his very sexy bald head and biceps. He was kinda hot. But then we watched a "behind the scenes" special feature which involved Mr. Diesel showing the viewer around the set. He had a lisp and said the word "fabulous". More than once. My fantasies quickly dissolved.

As to anyone who truly and honestly questions the sexual preference of Vin Diesel, I give you a recent quote from Elle:

"The burly, bald-pated star reveals that he's nicknamed his swollen biceps "the kryptonics," although he insists he'd never break out the big guns in order to score a prospective date's digits.

"'No! What do you take me for? I'm much more romantic than that," he tells of his cautious use of "the kryptonics." "I'm more likely to sing Broadway show tunes to a girl.'"

So there. He's totally into chicks. You know, because he sings show tunes. That's fierce.

And Work It, Two, Three, Four

Last night at the gym I looked over to a young woman entering the cardio room; she had on tight black capri-sweats and a tight pink wife beater over a bright red sports bra. I probably wouldn't have minded half as much if she wasn't 300 lbs.

Ladies, I laud you for going to the gym to shape up. It adds years to your life expectancy, it makes you more confident - you just feel better. I do it for the same reasons. Well, that and so I don't feel guilty for indulging in the occasional crunchy taco.

However, you have not yet earned the privilege that is tight clothing. And you, specifically, Ms. Red Sports Bra and non-matching pink wife beater that does nothing to hide your rolls of fat nor pink, blotted skin - should be thrown in the hottest pits of Hell for hypnotizing me into watching your knees hit your drooping stomach while peddling on the stationary bike. I almost feel bad for you, as you clearly aren't pretty, and in the event of losing all that weight, still won't be. You should go to the doctor about your acne, because if you can afford a gym membership, you can afford Proactiv. The only hope for you is that you are intelligent and a good conversationalist, but judging by the Redbook you've been glancing at, that doesn't seem so likely.

Jake Gyl...Gill...The Guy From Brokeback...His Sister

Besides Donnie Darko (in which she played an emotionally vacant and rebellious teen and I only remember that because her brother played the leading role and I thought to myself...huh...that's funny that they cast both of them for brother/sister roles because they're actually, like, brother and sister), I've never seen her in a movie. She looks like she smells of stale cigarettes, whisky and a fat man who paid her to have sex with him. But she looks regretful about it.

For the Cynical Bitch in All of Us

I couldn't have said it better myself. On sale now HERE until March 31st.

Madonna Shuns Kabbalah, Channels Xenu

You. Terrify. Me.

Tranny Hilton

Now, when your nose naturally resembles a beak, I'm not quite sure a peacock inspired, albeit glamorously bead-azzled...sure, we'll call it a dress...is the best thing to be wearing in public.

Hot Mama

Michelle Williams recently had a baby. I'm not sure how long ago, but I'll say within the past year. All I'm saying is it's possible, Britney. Just something you might want to think about. Also, Heath Ledger looks like Mr. Tumnus from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.

Life With Stapp

On acceptance:

"He said he previously told his new wife about having a wild year and that she
accepts the tape as part of his past."

On marriage:

"A day after his wedding, Stapp was arrested for investigation of being drunk at Los Angeles International Airport. He is set for arraignment on March 8."

On being a loser:

"You don't want to say it's laughable, but it's just like, my God, there's so much stuff," he said. "Somebody does not like you and somebody wants you to fail."

Yes, Mr. Stapp...and that Somebody is God. He hates you. It has nothing to do with you being a self-absorbed, panty-wearing alcoholic with a horrendous underbite. It's just your lot in life.

How Was Your Weekend?

I spent it in Hell, thanks for asking. Specifically, the 8th level of Hell, New Jersey. I took the Mister to see one of his favorite bands, whose closest show to us was...you got it...New Jersey. It's the Whitesnake of states, eternally preserved in Aquanet, acid wash jeans and *shudder* spandex.

The show consisted of four bands: Halestorm, Fly...something...Fly...paper? Flystrip? Flyleaf! That's it...Flyleaf. Shinedown (the band we went to see) and Seether (whom we didn't stay to see). Halestorm was great; the lead singer was a rockin' chick that reminded me of Janis Joplin, only pretty, and not visibly strung out. Powerful voice. Flypoop consisted of a female lead singer who looked more like a 10 year old boy with long hair and sounded like a barking seal. The lead guitarist reminded me of a muppet on speed. They are the sole reason my ears have been ringing for three days straight. That and maybe the pot I inadvertently inhaled from the 14 year old next to me taking hits off a small pipe.

On the way home from New Jersey we took a detour to find a bathroom before I wet myself. We wound up in Chinatown. Really. I ran into a McDonald's bathroom with one toilet and no door lock. I didn't care.

The only redeeming quality of the entire trip was that we found gas in New Jersey for $1.97. There was much rejoicing.