Oh, those Mayans!

According to the Mayan calendar, today marks exactly five years until the end of the world. While I don’t particularly believe any of that, I do find it refreshing in an odd way.

Photo credit: me in 5 years, onboard a wicked-ass spaceship.

I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer, but I do enjoy the idea of only having five years left to live. It’s a wake-up call, right? And it makes me think of how I would live my life differently if that’s going down.

Miss Cybil would work harder, travel more, and be nicer. She might also take up meth so I wouldn’t have to sleep as much. So Jimmy, what I’m saying is that Mayans have given us all a perfectly valid, possibly legal, excuse to do meth, and it would be awful to think otherwise.

Cybil Blaine does Bariloche. And keeps it real.

Few things upset Miss Cybil more than the thought of her ex-husband walking around with that tramp in a motel room–our motel room, those mauve polyester curtains stained with our love sauce–in Daytona Beach. Or Fort Lauderdale. Or whterever the hell it was where I spent most of the ´90s, high on life, meth, and Mai Tais.

Just to prove to you, Lois, that South America ain’t all sunshine, political revolution and pumpkins, here’s a list of there are a few things that upset Cybil Blaine:

1. The inherent socioeconomic elitism of the Winter Olympics, and, by proxy, winter sports in general.

Pictured: a random, anonymous girl, Lila, and Mariana.

You need gear (which ain’t cheap). You need to get there (which, with that whole ¨global warming¨bit, is becoming a bit more difficult).

2. The lack of hot black guys in Argentina. (Am I asking for the impossible? I hope not.)

3. The lack of anyone who knows a decent schmear when they see one. My left nut for a dollop of lox spread!

4. Little ponies. Is it me, or does this freakishly small horse look lonely, like it’s sad that it has no other recently divorced small horse from Jersey to hang out with, who understands what it’s like to get banished to a different continent that has like all of these crazy things on TV, things that look like American Idol but involve trannies and ice skaters and Latin American versions of Ryan Seacrest, and I swear to God I’m not making this up?

But you know what’s fabulous? Being able to appreciate the winters of the world–while we still have them. So even though Cybil Blaine can’t ski for shit, she’s going to go outside into the snow and let some of them snowflakes fall on her tongue! Soon, maybe even today! Possibly while looking in the general direction of a really rich black guy! Because honey, these Pilates-toned hips have a taste for chorizo. (Mollejas are also pretty yummy.)