Cynic For Hire

Fashion Week

2009-09-19T01:36:00.003-04:00

It's always Fashion Week at Cynic.

Yaaaay POPTUB.

Ho Hum

2009-09-19T01:04:00.007-04:00

Listen Audrina Patridge, I don't know who you are, and I don't care. Whatever reality TV cesspool you climbed out of, you can jump right back in. Your bleached teeth, mystic tan, fake boobs and dead eyes bore me. And the fact that your pinky toes stick out of your strappy sandals like some vestigial tentacles scares me.

Look Lively

2009-09-19T01:00:00.002-04:00

Ha! You see what I did there? With the title? Look lively, get it! Because she looks like a corpse.

Maaaaan, you must have really pissed off People for them to publish that one.

Confession a la Cynic

2009-09-19T00:49:00.004-04:00

Mary-Kate Olsen has always bothered me a little. I never knew why until I looked at this photo. It's not her apparent lack of hygiene, nor is it the fact that she looks like she's in her late 30's when in fact she's just pushing 22. I dislike her because she always looks constipated.

There. I said it. I hate constipated people.

To wit: Look here. And here. Here. Here. Should I go on?

You Look Like You Smell Like Mothballs

2009-09-19T00:22:00.005-04:00

Cate Blanchett is an amazing and very handsome actress with perfect looking skin. Now that we're finished with pleasantries...WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT, KATE? It looks like you raided my Nana's linen chest and slipped on the first afghan that struck your clearly insane fancy. You look like the love child of The Brady Bunch and this creepy dude.

There is literally no redeeming quality about your outfit, as I'm not even particularly in love with the shoes.

Don't disappoint me again.

Oh, Honey...No

2009-09-19T00:10:00.004-04:00

Jennifer, I never watched American Idol, but I seem to recall you winning a particular season of it. I also know that you were in Dream Girls, but to be honest, I never cared to watch that either. You may or may not have won an award for said role in said movie; I'm too lazy to fact check.

According to People you recently gave birth; congratulations...I had no idea that you were pregnant.

But it comes down to this, sweetie: although you are amazingly beautiful and have a ginormous, kick-ass rack, your choice of intergalactic threads is a mistake at best. And pairing the space suit with those boots is absolutely unforgivable.

Seriously, though...your boobs are FABULOUS! I'm not even a lesbian and I just want to plant my face in your cleavage. Good on you.

Engrish in Japan

2009-09-18T20:46:00.003-04:00

I lived in Nagoya, Japan for two years. It was an amazing experience and I really feel lucky to have been able to do something like that.

Of course, as you might imagine, sometimes things were lost in translation (great movie, go watch it). I've updated with a few of my favorite photos that encapsulate daily life as an ex-pat. They're nothing special, but they stopped me in my tracks each time.

Without further ado...

Engrish Very Funny

2009-09-18T20:44:00.002-04:00

One of my favorite signs was found at a monkey park in Inuyama, Japan.

Do not touch monkeys. EVER.

Thank you for your manner. You are so welcome.

Ride 'Im Cowboy

2009-09-18T20:40:00.003-04:00

Random statue on the streets of Takayama, Japan. Lightly-endowed Asian riding a carp. Naturally.

Japanese Fertility Festival. As Fun As You Might Think It Would Be.

2009-09-18T20:37:00.002-04:00

Is that a penis around your neck or are you just ha...oh. Oh, it is a penis. Well, then. Carry on.

Nice Melons

2009-09-18T20:31:00.004-04:00

You've all heard of the ridiculously priced melons in Japan...here's the proof. A $40 melon. These are "elite" fruit, used as gifts.

All I'm saying is this better be one tasty piece of fruit. Like, Garden Of Eden, Sins of Man, calibre.

The writing says: Masuku Meron, or Mask Melon. Or Musk Melon. Neither of the titles makes much sense to me...but that's what it says.

What Are You Looking At?

2009-09-18T20:28:00.001-04:00

Psssst. Hey. Hey you! Yeah, you. C'mere...

On Top Of Mt. Fuji

2009-09-18T20:16:00.004-04:00

It was freezing. Below zero and the sun wasn't even above the horizon. I hadn't slept, and it took nearly 8 hours to get to the top. I was grumpy, to say the least. When the shops opened at 4 a.m. (oh, yeah, there are souvenir shops and food stalls on the sacred Fuji-san), I bolted inside for a chance to warm up on a tiny bowl of $10 udon noodles. It was a small price to pay for the opportunity to get feeling in my fingers again.

As the sun peaked above the clouds I looked over to my right where other climbers were milling about, excited that we were all partaking in a once-in-a-lifetime zen moment. And then I saw it. A vending machine lit up like a Las Vegas Christmas tree. Five bucks for a cold green tea. Sacred, my ass.

To be fair, being on top of the mountain to see the sun come up was one of the highlights of my life thus far. The pictures don't even do it justice.

Yeah, sure. Why not.

2009-09-18T20:12:00.003-04:00

Stumbling home one evening from a drunken stint at a local karaoke joint, I looked up to see Gee!Store. WonderGoo.

And I couldn't help but wonder...what do they sell? Unfortunately, I couldn't find the store again once I was sober.

Everyone Hates Jessica Simpson

2009-09-14T23:52:00.004-04:00

Further proving that God has a personal vendetta against JSimp, People reports the aging, crappy-pop-singer-turned-overeater's-anonymous-country-"star" was witness to her Ewok maltipoo, Daisy, getting munched on by a coyote.

Simpson declared on her Twitter page, "my heart is broken because a coyote took my precious Daisy right in front of our eyes. HORROR! We are searching. Hoping."

So, to recap, not content just to see Jessica's career wiped off the face of the Earth, God has now upped the ante.

Imaginary Bitches

2009-09-10T19:16:00.003-04:00

I audibly snorted during a laugh while watching this.

I Got Friends In Cool Places

2009-09-09T12:54:00.006-04:00

Many thanks to my best continental friend, Callie, for sending me yummy German candies.

Like Haribo Primavera: Fruchtig, softig, beerig gut! Yes. Yes they are.

Open Letter

2009-09-08T20:51:00.002-04:00

Dear Job Market:

You suck.

Best wishes on a speedy recovery,

Min

P.S. - You're not invited to my birthday party.

State Fair of Texas Serves Up Food To Die For...Literally, Your Heart Will Stop If You Eat This Shit

2009-09-07T16:31:00.004-04:00

The State Fair of Texas is a mere 17 days away for the Lonestar State. You can bet I'll be there to gaze on the herds of grotesquely overweight people as they gorge themselves on...well, just about anything dipped in batter and served swimming in oil.

The Big Tex Choice Awards contest evaluates new concession stand entrants and their artery-clogging wares, sampling each of the foods before finally coming to a decision on two categories: Best Taste and Most Creative. The past few years winners, along with this year's lucky gourmands include the following:

2005 Most Creative Viva Las Vegas FRIED Ice Cream

2005 Best Taste FRIED PB, Jelly and Banana Sandwich

2006 Most Creative FRIED Coke

2006 Best Taste FRIED Praline Perfection

2007 Most Creative Deep FRIED Latte

2007 Best Taste Texas FRIED Cookie Dough

2008 Most Creative FRIED Banana Split

2008 Best Taste Chicken FRIED Bacon

2009 Most Creative Deep FRIED BUTTER (Editor's note: Are you fucking serious?!)

2009 Best Taste Fernie's Deep FRIED Peaches & Cream

You fat bastards.

*That's a picture of the chicken fried bacon.

Lookin' Good

2009-09-04T22:55:00.003-04:00

Oh my God, you guys. I don't want you to be alarmed, but I think Kevin Federline ate one of his children. I always thought it would be Britney, but even Cynic can be wrong once in a lifetime.

Oh well...he still has like, 8 left. No one's going to miss one.

Bride of Frankenstein

2009-09-04T22:40:00.007-04:00

Jessica Simpson, a woman whom I imagine can barely walk and think at the same time, took time out of her busy schedule of eating fried chicken and mashed potatoes with extra gravy to roll down the catwalk at the Ozlem Suer show in Paris. They say black is very slimming. But there's just so much a ruffled, black satin wreath hung round one's Elvira-like coif can do to suck attention away from armpit rolls.

Texas Moral Superiority Stings

2009-09-04T22:15:00.006-04:00

I've been back in the States a mere two months now, and already I am moving apartments. As celebration, two new friends and I decided to grab some cocktails at the bar and grill a mere stone's throw away from my future front steps.

The day: Wednesday. The time: two-thirtyish.

We were seated at a booth surrounded by Texas housewives out for a late lunch. I marveled at their big diamond rings, bigger bottle blonde hair, and biggerer plastic knockers. I quickly perused the menu our waitress had handed me, and noting there was no alcohol listed, asked for a cocktail menu. She furrowed her brow as we all looked pleadingly at her. It had been a long week so far, and we still had two more days to go. She returned with the wine list and a ho-hum cocktail selection, and left us to decide.

"I'll take a Manhattan," I said, handing her back the menu.

"I'll take the same," Brie* the Transplanted Architect decided.

"I'll have a Bailey's and Mint Chocolate Martini," Yuki* the Transplanted Japanese Housewife chimed gleefully.

The waitress wrote down our orders and snapped up the menus. "Are you going to order any food, or are you planning on just drinking your lunch?" If she had said it with a hint of sassy humor, I would have adored her. But she said it deadpan, no smile, and all I really wanted was for her to trip over my now-extended leg and slightly maim herself.

They say everything's bigger in Texas. I guess that goes for dourness, too.

*Names changed because if I was their mother, that's what I would have named them.

Whole Foods Has a Live Band Tonight. They Played a Jammin' Rendition of the Flintstones Melody. Not Even Joking.

2009-09-04T21:56:00.004-04:00

Jazz is like the obnoxious drunk philosophy major at a frat house party. Only his stoner friends can really claim to understand his rant on transcendentalism in postmodern neofascism. And the rest of his friends just nod their heads to the rhythm of his voice, lest they be considered totally unhip.

I Moved

2007-07-13T23:23:00.002-04:00

So I'm officially set up in Nagoya, Japan now. I don't think I'll post much here, but please feel free to check out my new blog: Cynic For Yen.

***UPDATE***

I'm baaaaaaaaack.

Wait...I Don't Get It

2007-05-25T15:43:00.000-04:00

This is Kid Rock. He's in Cannes for the film festival. That's his model-girlfriend. Those are what appear to be tights. And shorts fashioned out of gang-related headgear. And...and this weird Elton John Sunglasses/Panama hat thing going on.

I mean...does he really have that much money? The syphilis he caught from Pamela Anderson is one thing, but I wouldn't be caught dead with a man wearing those shoes.

This Person's Existance Bothers Me

2007-05-24T11:15:00.000-04:00

I would like to introduce you to my new arch nemesis: Brian Hugh Warner. You may know him as Marilyn Manson.

"Why do you dislike him so much, Min?" you must be asking yourself. I'll tell you. His entire premise of creativity is based on being "shocking". Oh my, he wears black lipstick and contacts that make his eyes appear completely white. How. Fucking. Shocking.

His entire popularity (and I use the term loosely) stems from his ability to exploit high school outcasts like himself. Boo hoo, you were born ugly, so you write songs explaining how hateful pretty people are. The Beautiful People are obviously intellectually and artistically inferior to you because they don't walk around in androgynous Lycra bodysuits on MTV or design album covers that display gratuitous piles of blood and/or random body parts. You are so scandalous, Brian.

Moreover, I think his music is absolutely terrible. Structurally, poetically, and any other -ally.

Also, it's nearly 80 degrees in London and he's wearing that.

Tres Sheikh

2007-05-11T15:38:00.000-04:00

This chick is totally nutters. She looks like she's off to a Muslim Roller Derby, not a date with the Stairmaster.

Tranny Simpson

2007-05-11T11:14:00.000-04:00

This was taken at the recent MET Costume Gala, where everyone aparently arrives with ill fitting or just plain ugly clothing.

I've seen pre-op transsexuals more feminine than this lady (?).

Let's Talk Embarassment

2007-05-11T10:30:00.000-04:00

On any trip involving an airplane ride's distance, I have inevitably met the gods of embarrassment (further proof that there is indeed such a thing as Karma, and I have a very small amount of the "good" kind).

In Costa Rica, we boarded a puddle-jumper to get to our resort (eco-friendly, thanks). Puddle-jumpers don't have bathrooms I noticed, a little too late. So I held shut the flood gates for 45 minutes through choppy air, finally descending upon a dirt airstrip. Airstrips, it seems, also do not have bathrooms. I did what any person doing the pee-pee dance would: I high-tailed it into the rain forest and dropped trou. No big deal, you might think, but Cynic has always had difficulty with the squatting method: urine will always find a way to trickle down my leg. Not wanting to get any on my pretty new capris, I decided to just take them off completely. So, to recap, the story finds Cynic naked from the waste down in a rain forest, watching her bodily fluids puddle in the dirt at her feet. Besides pondering what do to if I came face to face with a large snake while I was relieving myself, I found myself eyeing the large leaves growing everywhere, wondering if Costa Rica had an exotic relative of poison sumac, and just how bad it would be to have it growing out of my crotch. Luckily, there was a swift westerly wind so I just took the air-drying option.

We had checked into our hotel in Mexico, and since our room was not yet ready, we decided to grab a drink on the patio overlooking the beautiful aqua water. As most of you know, I am about a half-shade darker than an Albino; I forgot to apply sunscreen. For two days, my forehead was swollen from sunburn and locals took to calling me "cabeza gorda", or "fat head".

Descending the rather steep steps at Skellig Michael in Ireland I failed to grasp the concept that rain/drizzle + moss on rock stairs = long way to bottom. Though, in retrospect, I got down a lot more quickly than the people behind me.

My point is, besides the many social faux pas I am sure to make while in Japan, I find myself wondering what the gods have in store for me this time. Perhaps something along the lines of finding a pair of pants that actually fit my American body and then ripping said pants while bending down for something. Or the one time I'm drunk enough on sake to actually do karaoke I'll fall flat on my face after trying to attempt an acrobatic kick while singing "Everyone Was Kung Fu Fighting".

In Three, Two, One...

2007-05-10T16:21:00.000-04:00

Our departure date of June 3rd is fast approaching. This weekend is a "Sayonara Sale" to try to get rid of the stuff we can't bring to Nagoya - own your own little piece of Min! - next weekend is our going-away party, the following weekend finds us in Rhode Island for a wedding, and the next Sunday we're gone.

I vacillate between feeling prepared and thinking "Yes, it's terrific I know how to ask 'do you understand English' in Japanese".

I've also been doing virtually nothing at work and feel strangely justified in doing it. It works to counter-act the stress pimples that keep surfacing.

But I think a dream I had last night sums up how I really feel about the move: I'm walking down a street in Nagoya, arm-in-arm with my bodyguard, when I point up to my left and say 'look at that' and giggle. That's all I remember about the dream. It's rather simple, and nonchalant, and...natural.

Cloe Sevigny: The Ugly Barbie

2007-04-20T15:51:00.000-04:00

Brace yourselves...I'm about to compliment Chloe Sevigny, the woman whom I was certain was sent to Earth to become my mortal sartorial enemy.

She still looks like shit, to be sure...but look at those legs! If you just don't look at her from about the waist up, she looks tolerable.

Go Nagoya!

2007-04-11T11:43:00.000-04:00

Most of my readers already know, but for those of you who fell through the cracks of my e-mail address book - this post is for you.

I'm leaving on a jetplane.
I don't know when I'll be back again.
Those are the only words to the song I know.
So I guess now I'll make up my own.
I'm moving to Nagoya, Japan.
On June 3rd.
To teach English.
To cute little Japanese children.

There you have it. Once I get there, I might continue this blog. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll start a new one about actually living in Japan. Who knows?

For now, all I'm focused on is selling my crap, getting rid of my apartment and spending as much time with friends and family as possible.

Dear People Magazine:

2007-04-05T15:48:00.000-04:00

If you continue to write articles titled "Get The Look! Courtney's Beachwear" while showing actual pictures of Courtney Love in bathingsuits, I am going to have to do something drastic. Like cut myself. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?

A Pox On Chloe Sevigny

2007-04-05T15:43:00.000-04:00

Why? Why, Chloe? Why do you insist on showing up in public places looking like a Korean mail order bride, circa 1983?

In fact, why do you insist on showing up in public places at all?

Britney On The Loose

2007-04-05T15:34:00.000-04:00

Glad to see that stint in rehab helped you compose yourself, baldy. What the Hell did you dribble over your right boob? It looks like chucky, slightly opaque, liquid cocaine.

Easter: Not As Cool As Christmas

2007-04-05T15:08:00.000-04:00

I can respect the ancient tradition of a Spring festival, chock full of fertility rites and sexual innuendo. But then the Christians embraced the holiday and made it into some ridiculous ghost story about the Son of God coming back to life. How can parents possibly reassure little Johnny that zombies aren't real, while telling him that their savior rose from the dead? They should make it more believable by saying to Johnny that unless he's good during the year, Jesus will come back and feed on his flesh while he's sleeping.

So terrific; I get boiled eggs handed to me in a basket with fake, shiny, plastic, green grass that is almost as bad as tinsel: you find a strand of it three months later while you're sweeping. And why the Hell does Easter have to be on a Sunday? I always have Sundays off. The only difference with this Sunday is that I'm obligated to have dinner with my family.

Easter sucks.

Paris Mantis Struts Her Tranny Stuff

2007-03-21T11:49:00.000-04:00

What up, bitches?! It's me, your favorite wookie-eyed tranny! In ski goggles! And yellow pants that actually have the ability to make my malnourished, Red Bull fueled corpse look fat and show off a raging case of camel toe!

But seriously you guys, I'm here for the message. 2 B Free wants its fans to know that they have the freedom to wear clothing. And not just any clothing, because some clothing isn't as hot as other clothing. And then sometimes when I'm hot I don't like wearing any clothing, but not "hot" as in "oh my God, Nicole, those ski goggles look hot on you", but more like, "oh my God, Nicole, it's so hot outside that if I wear clothing I'm going to start sweating and it will majorly start streaking my Mystic Tan".

Umm...what was I saying?

I wonder if Baby Luv will think my hair is trying to attack him and he'll bite me again...

Bag-Lady Olsen

2007-03-21T11:42:00.000-04:00

What is up with this chick? Why does she think the "street-walking crack-whore" look is in?

Ohhh, but you are a sneeky one, aren't you? Grocery shopping, MK? You nearly had me believe you were planning on eating food. Well played. Well played, indeed.

Mardi Gras Is Everyday

2007-03-06T11:21:00.000-05:00

I returned from New Orleans on Sunday after a three day conference in the drunken city. Seriously, it's one gigantic bar. People wake up, go to Cafe du Monde to get a few beignets, then head to a bar for a bloody mary. And once it's 11:30 am, they switch to beer. This continues until about the time they pass out in Jackson Square, only to be roused by the gypsies or any of the busking musicians.

I stayed at the W Hotel on Poydras, which was probably very nice when it first opened. However, by now its walls are scuffed, its air stale, and not even the mini bar (complete with "Intimacy Kit For 2") or our neighbor who blasted the porn channel at 3 a.m. could make me smile. The W Hotel claims the tagline "Whatever, Whenever". I would like to change that to "Whatever, Whenever...we get around to it".

Apart from the slowness of the city, the people are generally friendly and mostly toothless. The creole people - the real ones - are some of the most gorgeous people I've ever seen in my life. It must be that Haitian and French DNA meld perfectly together.

Being a relatively small city with a surprising amount of stuff to do, I've compiled a list of to do's for the wary traveler heading to New Orleans:

Do go to Canal Street and find the mall because you forget to pack hosiery for your morning meeting.
Do NOT ask the Saks Fifth Avenue saleswoman where the hosiery is located; it's pantyhose.
Do expect to find meat in all food prepared in or near New Orleans.
Do let the waiter know you are a vegetarian and would like the meat left out of the entree.
Do expect the meat-free entree you requested to come back with shrimp.
Do NOT expect the waiter to care that your request for no meat was disregarded.
Do NOT expect a discounted meal after seeing a cockroach skitter across your table, nor after your entree was sent back to the kitchen only to wait over a half hour before it finally gets to you, sans meat (Rotolo's Ristorante on Decature).
Do go on the Haunted City Tour (and request Ernie as your guide).
Do get your palm read by Lola in Jackson Square. She's scarily accurate.
Do buy a can of coffee with chickory from Cafe du Monde to bring back to your co-workers so they think you care about them.
Do check that said coffee is Regular, and not Decaf before you land at LaGuardia.

I did have an overall great time in the city, but I think it's a once-in-a-lifetime trek. I am too used to the pace of New York to be completely comfortable with the South.

Happy V Day

2007-02-14T09:29:00.000-05:00

V as in Vagina. Let's face it, this is a "holiday" created for people either with one, or pretty much looking for one (male mo's excluded from wanting one, while some still might as well have one).

So fellas (female mo's excluded from the designation of 'fella', while some still might as well be one), keep that V happy, and remember: the only true path to what you're looking for is diamonds. Because, in the immortal words of Family Guy, she'll pretty much have to.

Anna Nicole Smith Dead At 39

2007-02-09T08:44:00.000-05:00

Former Playmate of the year, Anna Nicole Smith, was allegedly rushed to the hospital suffering from a heart attack and never regained consciousness; an autopsy is scheduled. Her son Daniel died with multiple drugs in his system in September. Anna Nicole is survived by her infant daughter, Daniellyn Hope, who's paternity is still in question.

The shock of this situation reminds me of when Steve Irwin died. You know playing with poisonous snakes or snorting cocaine after breastfeeding your baby is a little dangerous, but for some reason their deaths come as complete surprises.

Update: Witnesses are claiming Anna Nicole choked on her own vomit, after she passed out in the lobby of the hotel she was staying at. There are supposedly photos, but I'm not posting them. Look them up yourselves if you're into that kind of thing. But then I'll tell everyone you're a necrophiliac. Sicko.

MK Olsen Eats The Living

2007-02-09T08:41:00.000-05:00

Of course I'm only joking. I doubt she eats anything at all, but if she did...total flesh eating zombie. Are you with me?!

This Just In

2007-02-07T11:44:00.000-05:00

Terri Hatcher of Desperate Housewives infamy (a show I have not once sat down to watch) claims she doesn't use Botox.

That's like saying I'm not an international spy/supermodel and a tiger in bed. Because I totally am. Rowwrrr, baby!

NYC Fashion Week

2007-02-07T11:32:00.000-05:00

Puffins got to go; I didn't. Chloe Sevigny also got to attend, although I'm not quite sure why. Because, as I may have mentioned before, she obviously can't dress herself, and she has no real acting credits to her name. Yet there she is, oily hair and smug smile thinking, "my coat is so bitchin'. I'm so glad I stopped through Connecticut and happened to come across that barn. The horse doesn't need this blanket; it has like...fur. And besides, it totally looks better on me."

Jessica Simpson Is A Mouth Breather

2007-02-07T11:08:00.000-05:00

Going out the other night, Jessica Simpson was snapped by photographers at least 100 times, and each time, she looked like the picture to the left. She looks like she should be cheuffered around in a minivan with pillows taped to the passenger window so when she beats her head against it her helmet doesn't cause any damage, but instead she's banging John Mayer in the back of his tourbus. Wait...that's pretty much the same thing.

All Nighter

2007-02-05T22:15:00.000-05:00

It's 10:30 p.m. and I'm still at work, working on a presentation due tomorrow morning for a billion dollar project. No pressure.

My left eye is twitching.

I think my temporal lobes are starting to melt.

Forgive me if I just nod...aaaaaaaaadkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkajjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj;;;dsacjsajiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

...off.

F U, Phil

2007-02-02T11:05:00.000-05:00

We live in a magical world in which a meteorologist can base their predictions of weather patterns on a rodent (that, on one day each year, is wrestled out of a cage in front of junior reporters at dawn and expected to divine whether or not six more weeks of winter is in store) and still receive a paycheck.

Punxsutawney Phil didn't see his shadow this morning, heralding an early Spring. Well guess what? It was fucking cloudy today. Phil didn't see his shadow? Well it must be because Spring is on it's way, because no way does the fact that the sun wasn't out have any bearing on the mind-blowing capabilities of a buck-tooth, ground-dwelling rat to let our civilized culture in on the confusing and undocumented secrets that are cold fronts and barometric pressure.

In an ideal world, the local weatherman would leave work in a 1987 Nissan Stanza to go to the Motel 6 he calls home, eat a couple of ham & cheese Hot Pockets, then drown himself in a bottle of cheap whiskey, listening old Willie Nelson tunes and drunk dialing his ex-wife and her precious new husband, Derek.

And Punxsutawney Phil would be some family's dinner in Mississippi.

Another Bush For President

2007-01-30T13:23:00.000-05:00

There's an old saying that if women ran the world, everything would be color coordinated. I could live with that.

S.O.C. (Save Our Cynic)

2007-01-29T08:55:00.000-05:00

Insanely busy at work *stop* Send caffeine reinforcements *stop*

Cynic Is Unfunny

2007-01-19T09:16:00.000-05:00

As I said in the post below, I have a raging case of cyclical apathy going on right now. It's partly to do with hating my job, hating our Puppet President and mostly to do with just hating America in general. Before I get shouts of "If you don't like it, then leave...nee ner, nee ner", let me point out that I think every idea this country was founded on kicks ass (you know, besides the whole "only white men can own property" thing). Way to stick it to an oppressive country, Revolutionaries!

I hate America because it has turned into the exact thing the people who started this country ran away from. I fucking hate ignorant Americans with their "God Bless America" stickers littering their gas guzzling SUV's and country songs written by some hick describing how we're going to put our boots up those injuns' asses! Oh...sorry, wrong era.

So terrific job American government, for adding 21,000 more young men with families, or young men too young to have yet made families, to the front lines of Baghdad. Terrific job Democrats, for taking majority control of Congress and doing absolutely nothing to change the course of this money/oil pyramid scheme you've set up in the middle of a holy civil war.

And the blame goes deeper still to the people of this country. You. Me. Because you may not have voted for "them", but we still do nothing but turn our heads the other way while a mother somewhere in the Middle East huddles in the corner of her own kitchen, clutching her children, while US soldiers with semi-automatics slither through her home. We fleetingly feel empathy for the US Marine being shot at by an unseen foe...and then we go fill up our SUV's.

So realizing that I'm part of the problem that seems almost impossible to fix, I go to a job I hate, grow apart from the people I once enjoyed the company of and slowly stop caring.

I'm Not Dead, But Mary Kate Looks Like She Might Be Soon

2007-01-18T13:15:00.000-05:00

So per usual form, it takes an outside power to jolt me out of my apathetic slumber and back into the world of blogging. Our Savior this time comes in the form of Brotha' Kuya. And so I devote this update to him.

MK Olsen, henceforth referred to as "Shiny Cadaver Bag Lady", needs to gain a few pounds. She can have some of mine - it's part of my ongoing effort to create good Karma. The ultimate goal is world peace, helping out one undeserving gossip-column-fodder starlet at a time.

Luv luve,

-Cynic

From Me To You

2006-12-13T14:59:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I get those 5-page letters disguised as holiday cards from distant family members (and sometimes even from distant family members of good friends) that outline everything that happened to them in the year since I last received a 5-page letter detailing everything that happened the year prior.

The letters always include a picture of Little Johnny finally using the potty or Granny Wilma at the convalescent home smiling, with a bowl of green Jell-O in her little, arthritic hands.

So this year, I decided to write my own “Catching Up” note to the people I don’t care to contact on a regular basis and let them know how I’m doing:

Wow! What a year! After a serious yeast infection put me out of work for nearly three weeks, my boss decided my position would be better filled by Lisa, a 23 year old recent graduate of “Imawhore U”. But the people at the shelter have been extremely nice to me since my house and car were repossessed after failing to make the payments; Unemployment just doesn’t pay as much as I thought they would. You would think that after paying into the system for nearly 30 years that they would throw me a F&*#^% bone…but anyway.

Uncle Jaime finally got out of prison and we were all at the gates to greet him. Unfortunately, he called the warden a “greasy son of a goat humper” and was promptly back in front of a judge for harassment. Such a card, that Uncle Jaime!

My niece, Cassandra, gave birth to her 4th child on July 19th. We’re still waiting on the paternity test, but we’re pretty sure this one is actually her husband’s.

I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Also, to my sister, Betsy, who married a Jew three years ago and now has two children and a warm house to go home to with a two-bay garage and a golden retriever named “Buddy” and who is too good to celebrate the birth of baby Jesus – Happy Hanukkah.

Love,

Min

Moral Obligation? I Don't Know What You Mean.

2006-12-13T13:24:00.000-05:00

One of the few perks as the Marketing Director of my firm is that usually around "The Holidays" I get thank-yous from clients and businesses who have gained our business through my efforts.

Sometimes the thank-yous are in gift form. This sweeps me into a dilemma: Do I keep the gift for myself (seeing as though it's clearly addressed to me) or do I give it to the Boss because the only reason these people are sending gifts this-a way is because I purchased something from them using the Boss' money?

*Half of the participants I interviewed for my non-scientific poll indicated that keeping the gift would almost be like stealing.

The other half reminded me that I only got a $100 gift certificate to a steak house restaurant after my planning of a $40,000 conference exhibit in Honolulu, HI.

I simply have no soul, so no side is particularly more correct to me in this matter.

*It is important to note that the first half of the participants in this poorly researched study was my left shoe. The other half was my half-eaten bowl of vegetarian udon noodles, which, other than being very tasty, might not really be the best judge of morality.

Jolie Buys Beautiful Children

2006-12-12T14:58:00.000-05:00

Oh. My. God. Can this family be any more perfect? But the little white one they created the homemade way seriously screwed my chances of being adopted by Pitt & Jolie. Who needs two blonde, pouty lipped angels?

Welcome Back, Jabba

2006-12-06T15:59:00.000-05:00

I was just thinking the other day: "God...you know what this site needs (besides corporate funding)? More Mariah."

And so feast your eyes on the Amazonian hissy-fit-thrower in her signature ugly clothing.

You know I spoil you.

Crash And Burn

2006-12-06T08:21:00.000-05:00

As part of a not-so-blind item in Page Six, it was suggested that La Lohan cuts her cocaine with strawberry Quik. What an f'ed up loser; Everyone knows strawberry Quik tastes better in milk.

Page Six also goes on to insinuate that Britney and Paris are going through an experimental phase with one another. All I'm saying is if Britney winds up pregnant again, you only have to go so far as the nearest kinkajou for a paternity test.

Happy Birthday To Me

2006-12-01T13:52:00.000-05:00

According to MSN Astrology, all fellow Sagittarians share the following traits:

“Restless, adventuresome, here one minute then off on a tangent the next . . . It's hard to keep our celebrity Sagittarians in one place.And why would we want to? Sagittarians are the wandering gypsies of the Zodiac, the searchers, seekers, and storytellers who walk this world to bring mind-opening and mind-blowing experiences to you. Happy-go-lucky and good-humored, they're the life of every party. These freedom-lovers can also be found in airports, living abroad, or exploring the existential questions of existence.”

I share my stars with the following stars:

Woody Allen (Dec. 1st): Noted pervert who married his adopted daughter.

Britney Spears (Dec. 2nd): Married wannabe Vanilla Ice, deadbeat father of four; currently hangs out with woman whom they will likely name a new strand of Syphilis after (Pari-Syphilis).

Brad Pitt (Dec. 18th): Divorced notorious and talentless Hollywood bitch to playfully chase African babies around the Sahara with the hottest contemporary woman on the planet.

Katie Holmes (Dec. 18th): Brainwashed Xenu worshipper swindled into marrying homosexual, egomaniacal midget.

So yeah...STARS - they're just like us.

Happy Birthday

2006-11-29T14:35:00.000-05:00

This Saturday marks a momentous day: I turn 1/4 of a century old. But December 2nd means so much more to the world than just my birthday. Indeed, it is the day the Universe welcomed Britney Spears into its fold. Yes, the Lord giveth, and now we just have to wait for Him to taketh. Please...God...taketh.

Second Levishitkus 3:14, from the Chronicles of Min

"And Lo! Min was born. And she was good - in an evil way. And she was given the power to smite celebrities with her wit and it was good. And worshipers came from all lands to celebrate the birth of Her, bringing shiny things that smelled of diamonds. It was pretty kick-ass."

Wookie Strikes Again

2006-11-22T13:30:00.000-05:00

I once had a math teacher in 6th grade with a glass eye. He could look in two opposite directions of the classroom at the same time, much like the Wookie-eyed tranny shown at the left, here.

My point is, Mr. Hlavenski could remove his lazy glass eye as a party trick and Paris Hilton is invited to the AMA's.

Cynic Does Thanksgiving

2006-11-21T10:23:00.000-05:00

Ah, Thanksgiving. A time to spend in the presence of family so your father can shake his head in disappointment at your choice to not eat animal flesh and tell you that you should just pack up and move to California where the rest of the liberal hippies live. And you smile and tell him to smoke another joint. And then your mom cries. Then you get into a fist fight with your brother. And all the while the boy you brought to meet your family wonders why he passed up his Aunt Gurdy’s famous sweet potato strudel to be with a house full of loonies, albeit one that created a magnificently hot blonde chick with big boobs and a heart of gold whom he is currently romantically involved with.

And mashed potatoes! Who can forget the mashed potatoes?

Cruise/Holmes Wedding Guest: Posh Spice

2006-11-20T16:24:00.000-05:00

Vicki, this is a wedding, not a goddamn horse derby. And you might want to get that third boob growing out of your armpit looked at.

Also, Mystic Tan: Less is More.

Tom Cruise Wears Stilts

2006-11-20T16:20:00.000-05:00

The last time I checked, brotha' was hobbit-size.

Seriously, though - Katie Holmes looks great, albeit completely brainwashed.

FYI - Scientology "weddings" aren't legal. Which means if they're legally wed, they had to have a civil ceremony of some kind.

Dear Britney,

2006-11-20T16:19:00.000-05:00

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

XXOO,

-Min

Thought For The Day

2006-11-17T12:47:00.000-05:00

Whoever who coined the phrase "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade" was a very smart person.

Because if I knew who that person was, I'd hunt them down and hurt them.

Run and hide, Anonymous. Run and hide.

Lady In Red

2006-11-17T08:57:00.000-05:00

There's this lady at my gym that wears bright red, skin-tight, spandex workout pants that leave very little to the imagination. Don't get me wrong, she has a bangin' body for a 95 year old woman, but I can't concentrate on my sets in the weight room with her there because everytime she does a squat I can't help but wonder "Does she even feel the heinous camel toe she's got going on". I swear to God, she looks three reps away from sawing herself in half.

Britney Sheds 200 lbs, Husband

2006-11-17T08:29:00.000-05:00

I have two friends that are currently in a tiff over something really silly. They’re not talking to each other, and in fact, they seem to go out of their way to pretend each never existed. What they don’t realize is they’re made for each other, and that I would be surprised and disappointed if they let their special bond dissolve.

Britney, I know K-Fed (or “Fed-Ex” as the painfully smart people at several gossip columns have now dubbed him) once left a tube of K-Y in his pants pockets and when the maid threw them in the dryer they got all over Sean Preston’s and whatever-the-other-one’s-name-is’ onesies. But at least he had the decency to take out all the receipts from the strip clubs; you know how the lint from paper gets all over the clothes – what a mess!

And Kevin…you’re totally going to be a douche bag on the side of the road holding a sign saying “Will Let You Pee On Me 4 Grey Goose” (as opposed to just being a douche bag in a $35 million Beverly Hills estate) if you don’t drag ass back to your baby mama, like, yesterday.

Now fucking kiss and make up, this retarded attempt at publicity is ruining Tom and Katie’s nuptials.

Guessing Game

2006-11-07T15:11:00.000-05:00

Is this a) America Ferrera from Ugly Betty, b) Rachel Bilson from The O.C., c) Ashley Olsen or, d) All of the above?

If you chose A, I could understand. If you chose B, go kill yourself because Rachel Bilson is way too cute to look like that. Ever. If you chose C, you'd be correct. If you chose D, you're a lazy sack of crap and dislike making decisions. That's what my psychic said. She's all about tough love.

Spidey's Lady

2006-11-02T11:08:00.000-05:00

I'm not going to say it. I can think it...but I won't say it.

But if I was to say something, it would be along the lines of: "Preciousssssssss"

Sensodyne And Forget It

2006-11-02T11:00:00.000-05:00

Oh, wait...that's Fixodent. Either way, I'm pretty sure whoever left this in our office building's ladies' room forgot it. I'm going to blame it on the Italian Pygmy Office.

The Grass Kicker

2006-11-01T13:47:00.000-05:00

I was exhausted after a day of putting up curtains, sweeping floors and cleaning the bluish-brown ring that was caused by who-knows-what around the upstairs bathtub. But it was my (as in I pay the rent) first apartment, and I was going to do it “right”. Sitting on my bed, I let myself zone a bit as I stared out the window into the street-lamp lit darkness of my new street.

The neighborhood seemed quiet and rural, but perhaps the two are synonymous. I barely saw anyone that afternoon while unloading the rental truck, save for the nice gentleman in apartment 6A who offered to help carry boxes. I declined; after all, rural places are where serial killers live, right?

Just then one of my new neighbors appeared in the street beneath the yellow lamp, casting a shadow below his long nose and mustache. Mustaches make men look like pedophiles.

Peering through the curtains at the man I couldn’t help but become curious. It’s 11:30 at night, what could he possibly be doing? He walked along the edge of the street where it met his property, occasionally kicking a pebble from the grass into the abandoned road. For ten minutes, he walked back and forth. Back, kick a pebble, and forth.

Headlights briefly painted his jeans as it came around the corner; the man quickly started towards his house in long, giraffe-like strides trying to escape the truth that he existed and the rays reflecting off him proved he existed all alone. And as the lights faded, he returned to the spot where he had been standing and looked longingly after the vehicle.

Recap

2006-10-26T13:15:00.000-04:00

I've been slacking in my Celebrity Gossip so I'll try to catch you up to speed.

*Madonna steals black babies from Africa claiming they're orphans, when in fact they have living parents.

*Britney Spears' baby is named Jayden James Federline which is infinitely more hideous than Sutton Pierce, even if Sutton reminds me of Mutton, a dish the child will most likely never sample after being raised on a steady diet of corn syrup and hot dogs.

*Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are reportedly getting married in Italy on November 18th. Katie will wear Armani. And in true Scientology Wedding Ceremony tradition, Tom Cruise will catch the bouquet and cry on his gay Vietnamese lover's shoulder about how amazing Xenu is.

*Naomi Campbell was arrested on - SHOCKER - assault charges filed by her own drug counselor. More intriguing than how she can get away with continually beating the help is how she still has a modeling career at the age of 37. Modern science. Marvelous!

*Really old news - Paris Mantis and La Chupacabra AND Firecrotch LaLohan have appeared to reconcile their petty grievances, a la Mean Girls. I'm confused...which one can tell if it's raining by looking at her nipples?

Sleeplessnessity

2006-10-26T12:58:00.000-04:00

Sleeplessnessity: (n.) Self diagnosis of a medical condition involving the act of waking up at least 10 times during eight hours of sleep causing the sufferer to make up random words like "sleeplessnessity" to describe their plight.

Damn you, Tylenol P.M. Damn you to Hell.

On the upside, not having an uninterupted night of sleep for almost a week and a half has given me plenty of time to dwell on important issues. Like this morning, on my way to work in my car, which I was operating on less than 4 hours of sleep in three days, in which I could probably succumb to exhaustion, veer my car into the left lane and take out two caravans driven by soccer moms. Three, if I'm lucky. Where was I?

Right...important issues:

"Jennifer is a fat person's name. But is that true? Maybe it's my association with Jenny Craig. So is Jenny a fat name? I know a Jenny and she's not fat. She lives in Portugal. Nan-the-Blogless-Porkchop is from Portugal. Nan and I went to school with a Jenny. She was fat. If some Jenny's are fat and all Jennifers are Jenny's, does that mean all Zoobs are Gleeks?"

Ho-Bag Returnths

2006-10-17T13:11:00.000-04:00

Puff, Nan the Blogless Porkchop and I went out to dinner on Saturday before going to a Chocolate Making Class. The hostess sat me down at a table while I was waiting for my friends to show up, and who do you think takes my drink order?! HO-BAG!

On one hand I was really excited because she wasn't dead, like I had feared; in fact, she was still Ho-alicious. On the other hand, I briefly wondered if I should ask her to wear gloves whilst handling my food, lest I catch one of her many STD's.

But I digress...

Ho-Bag has one nasty little lisp. And afther justht one Ketel One and Tonic I couldn't help but thay everything with a lithp. I mean, it wath tho hard to keep a thraight fathe while the Queen of Trojanths wath athking me if we needed anthing elth. I was completely bethidths mythelf. Jutht athk anyone.

*No, that's not a picture of Ho-Bag. Ho-Bag looks more diseased.

Halloween

2006-10-11T15:08:00.000-04:00

I haven't been to a costume party. Ever. I haven't dressed up for Halloween since I was eleven. I think it's overdue. Though finding a party to invite myself to is proving more difficult than I thought.

What is so wrong about wanting to dress up as a majestic fairy with a huge rack? Bring forth the glitter, people.

Hell No, She Don't Do Blow

2006-10-11T15:05:00.000-04:00

Lindsay, honey. Lay off the coke. It's making you bloated.

Try heroin...very slimming.

Pull It Together, Bitch

2006-10-11T14:15:00.000-04:00

Dear Jessica:

I know things aren't going well for you right now, but as the black & white movies of the 40's and 50's tell you, things will turn out right. Sure, you have a creepy father who's Hell bent on ruining your career, you divorced a relatively good looking man and the tabloids painted you an unfaithful whore, you can't sing, and your once-uglier-than-you-but-she-got-a-nose-job-and-now-she's-playing-the-lead-role-in-the-British-version-of-Chicago-sister is upstaging you. So you're a little stressed-out and might be gaining some weight. So your ex-husband is dating a hot chick who still has a job on TV.

I'm pretty sure I was supposed to tell you where things would be OK, but Jesus...you might as well run to the store and stock up on some pills and razor blades now.

Love,
Min

PS - You look like shit - having a gay hairstylist does not automatically make him good at what he does.

Bully Blogging

2006-10-11T13:39:00.000-04:00

Puff informed me that I am to update the blog with the following information:

House of Carters: I had seen this clip last week and it is reality TV gold. Nick Carter whines about his little brother, Aaron, whoring around with Blonde Tranny Hilton. Get some popcorn and watch!

Blonde Tranny Hilton and Star Jones' anorexic twin have reconciled their petty Hollywood High catfight. If you recall, Richie allegedly showed Hilton's sex tape "One Night in Paris" to a group of people when Hilton was asked to host SNL without the petite rat/sidekick. I guess Paris is OK with people watching the tape, as long as they're willing to pay her for it.

In other news, there is nothing more grotesque than hearing your fat co-worker in the stall next to you in the rest room squeezing out a fresh stink-stick:

"MMMmmmm....*plop*....*plop, plop*....ahhhhhhh....."

Open Up

2006-10-06T11:52:00.000-04:00

The world is turning upside down. First Paris Hilton gets punched by an ex-Playboy Playmate and now a Janet Jackson reveals she has a vagina in her cleavage. Crazy, I tell you!

The Adventures Of Min And Nan

2006-10-06T11:47:00.000-04:00

Nan the Blogless Porkchop and I set out for a girls' weekend; as she had never freely roamed Boston, and I at one point considered (very briefly, mind you) the possibility of living there, we chose a hotel on Expedia and started the 3-hour drive.

Our itinerary included visiting Quincy Market and drinking. And eating. And drinking some more. We took the “T” into the “city” from the stop near our hotel. After spending a whole three hours walking around Boston and pretty much seeing everything it had to offer, we decided to head back to the Cheesecake Factory located serendipitously adjacent to our hotel.

Our itinerary became even more narrowly clear: drink, watch the Yankees (YAY) vs. Red Sox (BOO) game and crawl back to our room. Oh, and try not to get killed by the insane Sox fans.

Sitting alone at the bar of the restaurant two or three barstools from us sat a man who would occasionally comment to us on the game. Eventually he bought us drinks. Somewhere between learning his name and his trade (photography), we all wound up in a taxi, headed to a strip bar.

Tonight, after two years of e-mailing we’re finally catching up at one of my favorite restaurants on 2nd Ave.; Let the insane stories continue…

And Eat It Too

2006-10-03T14:55:00.000-04:00

"I haven't eaten anything over the size of a walnut since I got my stomach stapled. Step away from the cake, and no one gets hurt."

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall...

2006-10-02T14:47:00.000-04:00

You look in the mirror and to your horror, you seem to have gained 30 pounds overnight. You want to wear nothing but sweatpants and your guy’s favorite hooded sweatshirt because it kind of smells like him; not in that “back from the gym” kind of way, but the “I put on cologne for you because I knew we were going out to dinner and I know you like it when I smell like Ralph Lauren” kind of way. Cookies for breakfast sounds many more times appealing than oatmeal. The gym is Hell, and the elliptical is The Dark Prince, himself.

Yes, my friends. Today is a fat day.

My Eyes!

2006-09-28T09:31:00.000-04:00

Have I ever told you just how much I loathe looking at Chloe Sevigny? Because I do. Everything from her greasy hair to her dead eyes and smug mouth that turns upward as if to say "I know I look totally bitchin' in this dress so you don't have to say anything".

Where are the missing pieces from that dress that should theoretically cover your love canal? Why are there even photos of you on the internet at all? The dog from Full House had more on-screen chemistry than you. Your most infamous movie role can now be considered a derogatory statement, as in: You're a filthy Brown Bunny.

Please, for the love of all things sacred in this world, just go away.

Train Wreck

2006-09-27T09:53:00.000-04:00

Just thought I'd post a photo dipicting the downward spiral of career suicide that is Jessica Simpson, shown with the new Simpson the Slightly Better, Yet Still Retarded.

**Make sure to click on the photo to enlarge it**

Blogging While You Work

2006-09-26T11:24:00.000-04:00

Going round the table from left to right at this morning's meeting:

J1: I drove into the city with him this morning. He plied me with a medium Dunkin' Donuts Hazelnut so before we even hit the 39th St. exit from FDR Drive I was rocking in my seat trying to squeeze myself shut, lest I let go on his leather seats. Lucky me; he doesn't know Broadway is a one-way and now we have to go up to 8th Ave. before crossing down. I jumped out of his car at the next light, ran into a cafe and begged to use their restroom. I walked back 4 blocks to the office. It was the happiest walk I've ever taken.

JFem: I didn't know it was dress-down day, honey.

LarryB: Asian. Bad teeth, bad haircut, bad suit. How did you get this job? There is only one explanation: your boss digs gaysians.

LarryS: White. Nice tie, is it clip-on? Are you even old enough to shave?

Aussie: If I close my eyes while you speak, it's not half as bad. G'day!

J2: Please don't embarrass me by adopting your Guinea-ese from Westchester County or I'll kill you after our clients leave.

J3: How many more croissants are you going to eat?? Seriously, 3 is a record.

Coming To Terms

2006-09-25T14:26:00.000-04:00

Whilst living in Bucharest for two years (2000-2002) I learned how to weave traditional fruit bowls out of bulgar wheat grass, while singing old nursery rhymes to keep the rhythm of the actual weaving movements. After three cadences of "Mary Had A Little Lamb", I would be surprised to look down at my progress and see a nearly completed basket frame.

Of course, I'm completely lying. I've yet to travel to Bucharest (though it is on my "to-do" list). I don't know how to weave baskets, nor do I know if there is such a thing as bulgar wheat grass or if it's one of Bucharest's crops. Do they even have crops? I'm not even completely sure I used "cadences" in the correct form.

But this lends to an interesting topic: at dinner parties, who can you trust? More importantly, how many people could I fool with this story? Because that would definitely entertain me more than hearing about the latest Dan Brown novel everyone tells me I have to read.

You'll Laugh. You'll Cry.

2006-09-25T13:43:00.000-04:00

No, it's not this season's critically acclaimed romantic comedy starring Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock (because, let's face it, they were great together in Two Weeks' Notice and I've never seen another genre of movie with one of them in it and if you mention Speed I'll have to kill you because obviously, it was a comedy).

I'm talking about PMS.

This Saturday saw me crying like a baby while watching (for the 20th time) Audrey Tautou in Amelie. It made me think about how wonderful love is and how I should appreciate it more often. Then love walked in the door; I proceeded to act cold and blamed him for my mood-inspired breakfast of 2 pieces of toast with butter, 2 chocolate chip cookies and a handful of potato chips.

Two hours later I'm in love again. Especially when he washes the dishes; isn't that so sweet? It's very sexy, a man doing household chores. So sexy in fact, that a strip tease is in order to let him know exactly how appreciative of him I am. However, at some point I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in all my naked-from-the-waist-up glory. When I lean over a bit, my breasts kind of resemble something very unsexy.

"Why haven't you ever told me I have udders?!" I ask a man who suddenly looks part "deer-in-the-headlights" and part agonizing blue balls.

Somewhere between retaining water and a dinner party at which I find out James Taylor's son is a pedophile (that's a whole other story), my hormones finally level out and I remind myself that in some African tribes sagging breasts are a sign of royalty. Or something like that.

I'm Not Dead, Just Really Busy

2006-09-20T11:21:00.000-04:00

Work is insane and I'm not liking it right now. Seriously...job offers pour forth. *Ahem...Page Six...cough, cough*

I'll write when I have a chance/I'm in a better mood/Britney accidentally kills one of her children.

In the meantime, check out Ghetto Bitch. I like them.

The Results Are In

2006-09-11T15:33:00.000-04:00

Last week's question, "What type of person could you never date/marry?" yielded some promising answers. Let's take a look see.

"I could never marry a girl." - Puff, New York, NY

"I could never marry a girl either. But I would never marry someone with halitosis." - Keisha w/an i

"I could never date someone who spent the ten minutes after eating a meal trying to suck pieces of food out of his teeth. It’s called dental floss, man!" - Rachel, San Francisco, CA

"I could never date a man who wore eyeliner." - Anon.

"I could never date a man who shaved his arms." - Amanda, CT

"I could never marry a woman who can bench press me." - Jeff, Seattle

"I could never (again) date a person who eats liverwurst every single day for lunch." - Rob, VA

Not bad...but do you notice how only ONE of my regular readers chimed in? Make it up to me. You don't want to piss off someone with omnipotence, like me. I'm also drop dead gorgeous and have a PhD in Sexy.

Paris Hilton Arrested

2006-09-07T08:47:00.000-04:00

Dear God,

I'm sorry I said you didn't exist. Obviously, with Paris Hilton's recent arrest for DUI, you're trying to tell me I'm a lost little sheep, and I should come home. Thank you, God. I'm sorry again for doubting you.

Also, I would like a pink My Little Pony complete with brush set for Christmas this year.

-Min

*Picture of Paris crying after being denied entrance to popular night club Bungalow 8 in NYC last Thursday.

Suri Cruise Is Asian

2006-09-06T14:03:00.000-04:00

I don't want to start rumors, or anything, but could the fact that it took 5 months for Katie and Tom to show pictures of their baby be because they were waiting for her to clear Customs?

I'm just saying...

Vanity Fair Is Punny

2006-09-06T08:28:00.000-04:00

Although I was initially disappointed that Suri Cruise didn't look like a mutant, I've dealt with it and now conclude that Suri really is quite lovely.

Let this be a lesson to all that test tube babies are people, too. Ha! See what I did there!? I made it sound like Suri is a test tube baby. Because Tom is gay!

Dear Hollywood High

2006-09-05T17:07:00.000-04:00

Starlets, meet Scarlett. She'll be prettier than you no matter how much plastic surgery you undergo, and she'll get parts over you no matter how many producers you screw.

Why she sleeps with a man with one long eyebrow when she could sit on a shelf at my house is beyond me. I mean, I'd feed her and stuff. I'd brush her hair. The masking tape is just so she doesn't call the police. Again.

Told You

2006-09-05T14:07:00.000-04:00

John Travolta - gay.

One Scientologist down, one to go.

I Didn't See That Coming

2006-09-05T13:46:00.000-04:00

Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter", was killed in a "freak accident", when a sting ray stabbed its barbed tail into the famed nature conservationist's heart. He was filming a documentary about the Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Australia; the death was caught on camera and the tape is currently in the possession of police. Though he dangled his baby in front of a giant crocodile as part of a demonstration at his ranch, I think God took it a little too seriously. I mean, Paris Hilton has infected hundreds of people with STD's, and she's still alive.

Welcome Back

2006-09-05T13:19:00.000-04:00

I must apologize for the lack of posts last week; I was dreadfully ill. Suffice to say I had little intake of food, yet an overabundant output of the stuff for nearly 6 days. As for the lack of posts the week prior to that, well...when have I ever apologized for apathy?

I decided that I needed to get my reader's involved somehow in my blog, and so I will post a weekly discussion on Mondays, and display the results on the following Fridays. E-mail your thoughts to cynicforhire@hotmail.com.

This week's question:

What type of person could you never date/marry?

Ex: I could never date/marry a person who drove an orange VW bus.

Bang! Bang! Friday Bullets

2006-08-25T08:06:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Cynic's "Getting To Know Min" Friday Bullets list.

When I was in third grade I owned an inbred and therefore slightly retarded border collie named Tabby. One drizzly (is that a word?) day I decided to take Tabby for a walk. While walking down a hill in our yard she ran a circle around me, tying me with her leash. Then she decided to take off full speed down the hill, ripping my legs from under me, dragging me for about 10 feet. My right ankle wound up somewhere near my head. As I lay there motionless, crying, my mother came to the porch to see what was wrong. She told me I was fine and went back inside, leaving me to hobble up a wet, grassy hill. The next day the doctor told me I fractured my patella.
I resolve arguments with family and friends by biting them.
My favorite beverage is a strawberry daiquiri made and brought to me, poolside, by Manuel at the Gran Melia, Cancun.
I'm deathly afraid of sharks and won't swim in the ocean because of it. I also don't like swimming in lakes or ponds because fish just creep me out in general.
My first crush was in first grade. His name was Brad; he had blonde hair and blue eyes. When he walked by me I would French kiss my hand, pretending it was him. Although, not knowing what a French kiss was, I think I just used to lick my palm.
My favorite food group is chocolate.
My second favorite food group is cheese.
I have a (half) brother who is 5 years younger than me. I have two step-sisters that my family never sees who, subsequently, were in my (step) grandmother's will, whereas I was conveniently left out. I love my brother because he hates my step sisters.
I like to play video games.
I don't eat meat (fish and poultry included), but I like the smell of steak on the BBQ.

I hope you all feel closer to me now that I've given you irrelevant information about my life. I also hope you're happy that you're getting any updates at all today, because I'm quite tired and it's raining outside and all I want to do is curl up on my couch with a mug of hot cocoa and watch Disney movies (Including and Post-The Little Mermaid).

Well...That Explains A Lot

2006-08-15T15:27:00.000-04:00

Behold! Min shall shed light on the question: "What does Britney see in Cletus McK-Fed?" Answer: her own father. This takes the Electra Complex one step too close to a cinder-block porch on a double-wide trailer in Louisiana.

*Photo Source People.com - Left: Britney Spears' father, Right: Cletus

Friday Bullets

2006-08-11T15:30:00.000-04:00

Happy birthday to the woman who birthed me; I blame you for the way I am. Just kidding. But really, I am this way because of you. It's a good thing, I swear. Much fun planned for tomorrow with lots of good food, beauty, friends and sangria.
You ever sit down at your desk and think "Wow...I really...hate almost everyone I work with"? That's my day today.
We have a new kid at work that laughs like that retard from Beavis & Butthead. But instead of calling him Butthead I call him Asshead because somehow it feels more grown up and I feel justified for making fun of another human being for the way they laugh. But I mostly hate him because he laughs at the most inappropriate times: "Uh-huh, uh-huh-huh. Min, I kind of backed into your car with my Camry. Uh-huh, uh-huh-huh-huh."
Happy Friday. Remember: Cynic hates you, but you love her for it.

Young Man

2006-08-11T14:31:00.000-04:00

Ho-Bag supposedly moved out of my apartment building a couple of months ago (I secretly thought she was killed by our landlord). In her stead, two twenty-something guys moved into her old apartment.

One of them owns an old brown, rusted Bronco with a decal on the side saying, "Injun Racin'". As much as that scares me, it doesn't nearly come close to the horror of walking to my car and finding a Trojan wrapper in the parking lot next to said Bronco.

Obviously, Ho-Bag wasn't murdered, she got a sex change. She probably goes by the name "Steve" now and works construction.

Road Rage

2006-08-11T13:51:00.000-04:00

It seems my day is not complete unless my life is threatened at least once by insane drivers during rush hour traffic.

On my way into the office this morning "Let's Go" by The Cars came on the radio and I'm all: "Yeah! The Cars! Kick Ass! Kick. Ass."

I'm in the passing lane doing 80 mph, easily, when all of a sudden a pick-up truck with a Calvin & Hobbs sticker (the one that shows a rebellious Calvin peeing and flipping the viewer off) decides to inexplicably move into the left lane and brake.

I do irrational things when people cut me off. Some people honk their horns, others yell even though they know deep down inside that the driver of the other car can't hear them, a few loose cannons take out double-barrel shotguns and mow the mother fucker down. I jot down their license plate number and stalk them for a few months, leaving them anonymous pieces of hate mail under their windshield wipers and occasionally slashing their tires.

My therapist said I have anger issues that I need to confront. She also asked me not to tell her what I do to the people I stalk anymore because patient confidentiality only goes so far with the police now-a-days.