You're Joking

Just a quick re-cap of Christmas. My other half's (halves???) grotesquely obese and hairy double-chinned mother sent us a Christmas card again this year. Instead of just throwing it away like I usually do (I get tired of the free "Jesus Loves You" booklets she sends to us, courtesy of TBN, some red-state, T-vangelical, hick-cult), I opened it. And after throwing away the free "Jesus Loves You" booklet and reading the card, which was signed "I forgive you; isn't it time to move on?", but without the semi-colon because I doubt she even knows what one is, let alone how to use it properly in a sentence, two gift cards fell out of the crumpled envelope.

Holy shit. She sent gift cards? She actually got her fat ass out of her 1992 silver Dodge Caravan and stepped her tree-trunk sized calves into a store to buy a gift card?

I start to question if you can order gift cards over the phone, when I flip over the gift cards to see where they are redeemable.

Oh, God...you're joking. Dunkin' Donuts? Oh good lordy, sweet mother of fuckin' Jesus above in heaven. They're for $5 each. Hey, Big Spendah!

Why couldn't she get me what I really wanted? An obituary in the newspaper with her name on it.

And before you random people start chastising me for this...all I have to say is...this woman truly and honest to God is the closest thing to Satan you could possibly imagine. And that's why we don't talk to her. That and she has a hairy double chin to the nth.

Ricky Martin Likes Men In Speedos

Don't you just hate when the sand sticks to your slicked up, muscular body?

I know I do.

If you were ever on the "Ricky Martin is totally straight and I have a tattoo of his face on my ass" team, like me, this is a confusing day. But I must say...he has terrific taste.

The O.C.'s Ugly Cousin

Laguna Beach. I've never watched it. And this photo is part of the reason. I'm not sure which of these four people are actually on the show, but considering that 3 out of 4 of them are heinously ugly, I'm not sure it really matters. The other reason I never watch the show is because Rod Stewart's 40 year old, ugly degenerate of a daughter is engaged to one of the show's 18 year old cast members. And what do I always say about ugly people, class? Ugly people marry ugly people and produce even more ugly people.

Ok, Ok...Last One, I Swear

Cletus McDouchbag has moobs. And like, 14 children, but seriously...man boobs. Big manly boobies. Moobies. The moob man moobie moobster.

'Ay! Merry Friggin Christmas!

To all my Brooklyn Bruddah's!!!! Yeah...nevermind. We all know I'm more at home reciting "How Now Brown Cow".

I'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and for like, the one Jewish person who reads my blog, Happy Hanukkah. For those of you who celebrate Kwanzaa, you might want to consider just celebrating Christmas or Hanukkah. You get gifts and stuff. And last time I checked, you don't get the day off for Kwanzaa.

Thought to ponder...you know how British people say "Happy Christmas" instead of "Merry Christmas"? Do they say "Merry Hanukkah" instead of "Happy Hanukkah"? Input, Kate?

Regardless, please have a safe and happy holiday (or holidays...Hanukkah...8 nights...that kicks ass!) and I'll talk to everyone around the 27th-ish.

Aaron Carter Discovers Ape-Man

Well, gosh you guys...now I can totally understand why Lindsay and the Duff girl had a feud over this stallion. Look at that picture-perfect pre-pubescent face (how 'bout that alliteration!).

And look! He discovered and befriended the missing link! (Uh...he's the one on the right with the arms that nearly reach the floor, in case you didn't catch that.) Or a family member of the Bush family? Not many people can pull off a facial expression like that. That face has illegitimate Dubbya written all over it, people!

Die

Those of you who speak to me on a regular basis (and by speak I mean read my blog because I don't venture outside of the walls of work for more than 20 minutes a day, on average, and when I do it's to go home and sleep and maybe eat but not necessarily in that order) know that I love my job. I love the people at my job. With the exception of her. You've heard me refer to her as "The Sea Witch", "The Sea Cow", "Fatty McBatty" and simply, "Whore".

If you've ever seen Death to Smoochy and the scene with Robin Williams watching TV with his feet on the boob-tube, screaming "I despise you. I LOATH YOU!!!!" and then kicking over the TV, and subsequently beating the shit out of it with a baseball bat, you'll understand how I feel about the office creature. Except I don't have a midget come into the living room to stop me from ruining his picture-In-Picture TV. Seriously...watch the film.

Aaaanyway...without droning on any longer about just how much I can't stand to look at her fat, smug, punchable face, I'll just give you one phrase to make you understand just how much I hate her.

I hate her as much as I love chocolate. Simple. But profound.

Labial Undulation

There are many things in this world that annoy me. I've expressed before in previous posts my disdain for receiving porn spam. Mostly because they contain tips on how to make my penis larger. The problem being...I don't have a penis. It's not a disease, or anything. I was simply born a girl. I don't need new ways to please my bitch or new toys with which to tie her up, because I happen to be heterosexual. I won't deny the fact that female body parts are much better looking than a male's...but that doesn't mean I want to take a peek at elicit e-mails of white trash college girls while at work.

However, today I received a spam mail entitled "Labial Undulation". I found this verbally tantalizing. Say it with me: "Labial Undulation". Labial. Undulation.

Labial: adj.; of or relating to the lips or labia.
Undulation: n.; a regular rising and falling or movement to alternating sides; movement in waves.

Perverted? Yes. Fun to say? Definitely! It's the phrase of the day! Try to use it in a sentence when in conversation with your co-workers and friends.

E.g.: That piece of chocolate was so good, I think it caused a labial undulation.

Labial. Undulation. Labial Undulation. It's my new mantra.

Dear Ho-Bag

It's 4:30 in the morning. And although I admire the fact that you're still awake, y0ung pup that you are, I would like to remind you that you live in an apartment, and that the walls tend to be thin.

I gather from your conversation that someone has made you angry. Someone of the male persuasion. I hear "fuck", "fuck you", and "don't ever fucking call here again, you fucking asshole". And then crying. A piece of advice: because you seem so angry with...Brian, you said his name was? Because you seem so angry with Brian, why not try ignoring the telephone each time he calls back? Not that I'm counting, but I've heard it ring 7, make that 8, separate times. You can turn the ringer off, you know. Great feature, that.

And yet, I can't stay mad at you because you inadvertently have made me see the error of my own ways. When women scream out of anger - and most specifically when directed towards men - we sound like hens.

Ahh! I fucking hate you...bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk...asshole...cluck!

So thank you for waking me up so early in the spirit of female bonding.

Also, and truthfully now: if he's made you this upset, I garner it's warranted. So you can just dump the asshole. You may be a ho-bag, but you're my little Ho-Bag, and no one can treat you this way.

Love,
Min

Kate Holmes Scares Me

"I know what you think of me and my amazingly amazing soon-to-be-betrothed psychopath, who - for the record - did NOT impregnate me with a turkey baster. But I don't care. Our seed will conquer the earth at the age of 7, after cleansing the earth of evil Thetans. You'll see."

And is it me, or does the red cause her to slightly resemble Satan? Just a thought. Go about your business.

Luke Wilson Before

After

What happened, Luke? You were so awkwardly adorable in Legally Blonde. You were funny and I empathized with your character in Old School. But Christ, man...you need to stop. Put down the fork.

Welcome To Cynic, Kiki

I've never posted anything about Kirsten Dunst because I kinda sorta liked The Virgin Suicides. She was in that. Although, you could probably substitute a blow up doll for her in the movie and no one would really notice. Anyway, PerezHilton.com is always ragging on her, and for good reason. Aparently she's the smelliest, drunkinest, bitchiest celeb in Hollywood, as evidenced by her parking in handicapped spaces in order to get her Starbucks fix (between drunken binges and lines of crack, I'm assuming), and the fact that "Dunst" is Danish for "stench". No wonder Jake Gyllenhaal is gay.

Pic and lovely scribble caption from Perez Hilton.

Oh, Honey...No

JABBA HUNGRY! ME EAT YOUR HEAD! *chomp, chomp*

Seriously...last time I checked, a $7.99 Walmart special on Men's XL Fruit of the Loom t-shirts weren't en vogue. But what do I know, right?

Thanks to Hollywood rag for the picture, as I stole it from their site.

I Want All For Christmas

Most people start freaking out about this time in December because they don't know what to get their loved ones. I know you're all probably waking up in cold sweats at the thought of there only being 10 days until Christmas and Hanukkah (11 until Kwanzaa, but who the Hell really celebrates that anyway?), and you still haven't found me a gift. Fear not; I've compiled a list of what you, my doting fans, can buy (procure, steal...whatever works) for me this festive holiday season.

• Diamonds
• Magic that absorbs any excess fat from my body and transfers it to Paris Hilton, whereby causing my ass to fit into a size 4 (and simultaneously morphing Paris Hilton into something other than an overgrown praying mantis. Aren't I like, totally NOT selfish??)
• Magic that lets me eat as much food as I want and miraculously maintain a size 4
• Did I mention diamonds?
• A red Mini-Cooper S Automatic and Manual transmission (yes they have it, look for yourself) with white hood, white side mirrors, white hubcaps and white bonnet stripes, black leather interior, GPS system and dual panel moonroof. Oh, and cupholders. I loves me some cupholders.
• A koala (take THAT, you Tinkerbell/monkey bear/ferret owning bug-whore!)

Blowjobs All Around!

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My Goodies

It seems to be a staple at any party I throw. Titty taps. The rules? Only women and gay men are allowed to participate, though straight men always look on in awe. And most likely, longing. However, new rule! Puff, they might be large, but my ta-tas are NOT bongo drums. Play on.

I Spy Something...White

In New England, our idea of a "snowday" is having the boss spring for pizza for the office at lunch. It's Friday. We have free pizza. Everyone's happy, despite there being no alcohol. There is much talking and rejoicing. My friend Krista and I are having a conversation about the party I am throwing this evening:

Krista: "Do you have Bailey's and Kahlua?"
Me: "Bailey's: not enough for more than like, a cup of coffee; Kahlua: definitely."
Krista: "Oh. Maybe I'll pick up some Bailey's and whipped cream so we can do 'blowjobs.'"

Silence.

Horrified that people are staring at her for her choice of words, she tries to clarify herself:

Krista: "No, no, no...you drink it!"

People's jaws drop.

It's times like this when I wish I carried a soundclip of crickets chirping.

Mariah Is Thirsty. And Fat.

I can understand her demands for hotels to roll out red carpets, covered with fresh rose petals before Mariah will put her delicate hammer-toed feet on the ground. I can even let the rumors of her being carried around the set of a music video shoot because said feet are sore (pressumably from the numerous corns and open sores caused from her hooker-heeled shoes) slide. But having your girl-servant straw feed you water when you're thirsty? Although...Mariah is looking quite "Jabba the Hutt". The logical progression is just to have her assistant dress up as Princess Leia.

Bizarre News

To assuage Australian natives' fears, the Food Authority of the state of New South Wales recently issued a statement assuring people that the meat in their refrigerators that glows in the dark is "actually harmless" and caused by a "light-emitting bacteria naturally present in most meats and fish". Also, the Kryptonite rocks the food is packaged with have nothing to do with it. And the government is thinking about instituting a recycling program for all of the surplus "glow-in-the-dark-poo" they've got. Something about organic flashlights or some such...

Small Town Charm

I was debating whether or not to post this, since it's not really breaking news. Hell, it's not even new. It happened a few days ago. But since the person in question is from my hometown, I might as well mention it.

Former American Idol contestant, Julie DeMato, was arrested when police pulled over her SUV and discovered two marijuana pipes, pot, and a white powder that tested positive for cocaine. Perhaps the most entertaining part about her brief telephone interview with the Danbury News Times was the fact that she said it was "all a misunderstanding".

More interesting than that though was her alleged penchant for high school football players. Singing apparently isn't her only talent. And I use the word "talent" loosely. And by "loosely" I mean she was a whore. Again...just hearsay.

J-Lo Is Matronly

Oh my God. I didn't know Jennifer Lopez was Hispanic!

You Linked Me! You Really Linked Me!

Holy crap, you guys! I was totally linked to a complete stranger's blog. A definite achievement for me. After reviewing her blog I learned that her name is Kate and she's from England. She disproves the general American sentiment that all British women are unattractive. A definite achievement for her. She has relocated to Canada, however, confirming the world-wide study that anyone living in Canada by choice is crazy. Regardless, I love her wit and the fact that she called herself a twat in an entry. Is it me, or is that just f-ing hysterical? Also, her concept of a fag is vastly different than ours, and that's always refreshing. So I'm linking The English Girl In Canada despite the fact that whoever she is hugging in her profile photo has a Boston hat on. Link on!

A Brief Hiatus

I realize I haven't posted in awhile. And instead of being apologetic about it, I'll just give you excuses so you can pity me and be thankful you get any updates at all, you ungrateful little...ahem.

Suffice to say, I was recovering from physical and psychological strain for the past week and a half after my trip to Tampa. To celebrate my birthday. Which was December 2nd. Thanks for all of the well-wishes. You know, the two of you who actually remembered. I'm not bitter. But I must remind you that as the Supreme Goddess of the Universe, I retain the right to smite you whenever I feel like it. All I'm saying is that Christmas is coming up and I like diamonds.

On to the excuses.

Do you know what it's like sharing a hotel room with a person who will remain nameless who also happens to sound like a fucking pterodactyl in heat while simply trying to conduct the normal practice of breathing while sleeping? The snoring kept me up for two nights straight. My only solace was a mini series about La Chupacabra on some late-night Animal Planet show. At every commercial break there was a commercial for a local Tampa escort (I mean matchmaking) service. And I don't know about you, but the fact that an escort (I mean matchmaking) service advertises on the Animal Planet channel brings to mind unconscionable acts with sheep that frightens me just a little bit. I mean, I know it's the South and all, but Jesus says beastiality is a sin. At least, I think He says that.

So coupled with sleepless nights, flights to and from Florida, trying to keep up with work, planning Christmas parties and smiting people for forgetting my birthday...I've been a little busy! So excuse me for not having an update!

Florida: Heaven's Waiting Room

Upon landing at Tampa International Airport my bladder threatened to release the flood gates, leaving me standing in my own little puddle of urine, unless I found the nearest restroom. After meandering through the security line, in which of course they made me take off my Puma's, I darted for the little girl's room. I looked at the bathroom floor, and then at my naked feet. Thoughts of Britney McSpears barefoot at truck stop restrooms flying through my head, I decided to ignore the pressure and throw on the sneaks.

Another line. Doing a covert pee-pee dance (You know the one...left foot, shuffle right foot, squeeze. Repeat.), and glancing around at my surroundings, I noticed a young woman in front of me, staring in horror at something behind me. I followed her gaze to the sink and vanity area where a woman stood hunched, applying a mask of make-up. She must have been at least eleventy years old. I didn't see anyone propping her up (think Weekend At Bernie's), and no strings were visibly attached to her, so naturally I rationalized that she was a flesh eating zombie. With other-worldly, reddish-orange faux hair.

I peed. Then got the Hell out of the airport. If Night of the Living Dead was about to go down, I wasn't going to be a part of it.