Mitzi Moments

Author: Mitzi

I just can’t stop lovin’ you…

By on June 26, 2009 in end of days, moment of silence

There are no words to adequately express the shock I felt upon seeing the confirmed news reports about Michael Jackson’s death. I literally had to sit down on the couch and catch my breath. I haven’t felt this dazed since I found out that I was actually going to receive my much needed liver transplant eleven years ago. That’s deep, right?


Be clear: Michael Jackson has been a friend in my head FOREVER. Since my certified tone deaf ass could screech a out, “A-B-C, easy as 1-2-3,” MJ and his music have been a part of my life. And trust, our friendship was hardcore.  

It spanned his rise to superstardom, the freak accidents, a complete ethnicity/race change and yes, even the recent controversial fall from grace.  Forreal, forreal, me and Mike been through it: He’d make me happy, he’d make me sad, he’d humble me, and then leave my jaded self in complete disbelief. 

And still, I jammed on.

So riddle me this- how does a man who’s musical genius changed the WORLD die of cardiac arrest at freakin’ 50?  

Not for nothing, people like MJ are supposed to either: A) live forever or B) die in some unexplainable event like an airplane disappearing over the Bermuda Triangle. NEVER, EVER the mundane heart attack. I mean, wasn’t that the point of the hyperbaric-oxygen-tank-thingy that he’s allegedly been sleeping in since the 80s? Sigh.  I can’t.  

Raise your glove in the air…

making technology work for you…

By on June 25, 2009 in it ain't easy, it takes a village, pocket full of dirty tissue

Dang! The po-po ain’t catching no breaks this week…


Apparently, NYPD Detective Christopher Perino thought he was slick and denied threatening a suspect Erik Crespo in court. Well don’t you know the tech savy teen taped the entire “conversation” that included threats to the then 17 year-old’s mother and sister on a tiny MP3 player he had in his pocket?  

So much for doing a thorough job of frisking the suspect, huh?

Therefore, when the trifling Detective got on the stand talking about he never interrogated Crespo let alone threatened him, the defense attorney basically whipped out the 62-page transcript of the taped convo and cold busted his ass.  Mmm-hmm, just like that.

In addition to being played to the left in front of a courtroom full of people, the Detective was immediately charged with perjury and arrested. He is suspended without pay, will probably lose his pension and could now go to jail his DAMN self.

You know…. I wanna say I feel bad for the former Detective, especially since it turns out the kid is truly guilty of the crime they arrested him for (he was caught on tape shooting someone). 

BUT at the end of the day, I’m not really for all that threatening of folks mothers and sisters… No sir, not at all.

sure hope he had his drawers on…

By on June 24, 2009 in honorary white woman, it takes a village, made for the maury show, tagging out, why we as a people can't get ahead

In most cases, there’s nothing funny about police brutality.  Like, at all. But you know my motto- every day is a new opportunity to take it to the next level. Peep game:



Apparently, good ole Carl (who mind you, was recently voted District Officer of The Year) got wind of the fact that his estranged wife was screwing around at the crib with another man.  So naturally, as soon as he got off duty he headed over to ‘get things straight’. 

When he arrived on the scene, I guess homegirl was trying to be on some slick shit and refused to answer the door. (Can’t you hear her now- “Just ignore all that banging baby.  I told you, me and him not together no more.”)

Well don’t you know homeboy smashed a window, stormed in and charged up to the bedroom? 

Once in the bedroom, crazy ass Carl (you like how he went from good ole Carl to the crazy ass, right?) found the freaking Police Chief HIDING out in the closet and proceed to pistol whip and beat FIRE out of that ass.

DAYUM son. Can you say anger management issues? WTF??  I’m gonna need the Chicago Police force to turn off the R.Kelly and pull it together.  Not now, but RIGHT  NOW.

please revist parenting 101…

By on June 23, 2009 in cuteness kills, i'm not ready to be a grandmother, it's in the genes, pocket full of dirty tissue, tapped out, that sense of entitlement

Err-umm, I know most parents stop whooping their kids when they get old enough to comprehend but real talk? Some of these hard headed mo-fo’s need to be beat all the way up until they turn 21 years-old. And preferably with a large, thick, you-gonna-remember-this-one-right-here leather belt like the one my Dad used on my lil’ ass back in the day… Uh-huh, yeah, I said it.

‘Cause if more teenagers understood that they could still catch a bad one from their parents, we damn sure wouldn’t have bored children enlisting to become assassins in Mexican drug cartels, playing themselves out in ridiculous reality shows like NYC Prep or walking into tattoo parlors talking about, “hi. I want you to tat up my body to the point where the only place I’ll ever be able to work is a circus.”

Because in what can only be attributed to a lack of fear of the parental beat down, 18 year-old Kimberley Vlaeminck decided to have 56 freaking stars etched into the side of her FACE. And to no one’s surprise but her own, her father completely lost his shit when that fast ass got home.

So naturally, like all immature, adolescents under pressure Ms. Kimberley went straight into denial mode.

Don’t you know, this silly child had the nerve to insist that she’d “only asked for three stars, feel asleep in the chair and woke up with a galaxy on her face.” You ONLY asked for three stars on your FACE??? Feel free to insert the blank stare with 2 blinks.

But wait on it… Her parents actually believed that bullshit!

I mean to say, not only did they believe it but they proceeded to hire a lawyer and press charges against the tattoo artist/ parlour. As if any sober person in their right mind could sleep through 56 stars being inked on his/her face… I. can’t.

Needless to say, not even a week later homegirl got caught on a hidden camera admitting that she knew all along what the tattoo artist was going to do. So she’s had to issue an apology, retract her statement, lost the almost $18,000 her parents put into making the claim/ hiring a lawyer, et al.

So ummm, I’m just going to go out on a limb and say, this right here. This is what happens when “time outs” go horribly wrong. No offense

straight norman bates…

By on June 22, 2009 in desperate cry for help, made for the maury show, tagging out, too old for the road

Okay, you know what?  I’m gonna need folks to turn off the Law & Order marathons and step away from the TNT. 


Not now but RIGHT NOW.


This fool straight dressed up like his mother- wig, sunglasses, moo-moo and all, picked up his homeboy to play his part and the two of them headed down to the DMV and tried to get a new State ID for this woman. Mmm-hmm…

But wait on it… the real reason he even got caught is because when his mother’s home was sold into foreclosure (naturally, he wasn’t making any payments), he refused to vacate the premises and tried to sue the new owners-AS HIS MOTHER.

Uh-uh, I. Can’t. Lord, it’s too early in the week for this nonsense…

sans polish please…

By on June 18, 2009 in feedback

I just looked at all the sandals sitting in my closet and had to shake my head. I really, really don’t like rainy days in the summer time a.k.a the open-toe killers.


Speaking of toes, a while back I posted this pedi question: 

Would you clip your partner’s toenails?
78% said sure, it wasn’t a big deal
22% wouldn’t do it even on a dare.

Gotta say, I am on the fence about this one right here.  Cause in reality, I’m really funny about people’s toenails being too long.  That whole, dragging on the sidewalk over the tip f your flip-flops?  Oh god, it just makes my nerves bad. 

Mind you, my fixation on feet is hardly extreme (no, there’ll be no toe sucking for the kid) but I definitely appreciate it when men take the time to make sure their respective foot game is on point. 

So with that said, if the length of my significant other’s toenails are bothering me more than him, then yes, I’m quick to offer my services.

But what if your partner has fucked up feet?  You know, the joints that look like bird talons? With all that caked-on dead skin, ginormous bunions and Grand Canyon fissure-like cracks in the heels? Ewwwwwwa (Insert image of me vomiting in my mouth).

Call me funny actin’ but I would be hard pressed to share a bed sheet with anyone who had crazy looking feet, let alone trying to clip the nails. I don’t care how much I like you. As long as you’re looking like close cousins with the barefoot homeless guy outside the Port Authority with all that thick yellow, flaky, fungi growing all up under and around your nails, I’m not the one.

someone’s not celebrating father’s day…

By on June 17, 2009 in made for the maury show, Mitzi- all day every day, never too grown, pocket full of dirty tissue

So I’m reading the NY Post and there’s a story about a 50 year-old man in LaGrange, NY who stabbed his wife AND his teenage daughter in the neck with an ice pick earlier this morning. Which is crazy enough, but what really takes it over the edge is that neither of the two women is critically injury or dead. WTH?


How is possible to get stabbed in the neck with an ice pick and not be critically wounded?  What kind of weakling is this man? And better yet, how did his punk ass manage to stab the BOTH of them? Not for nothing, but even if they were sleeping when the attack started, wouldn’t the screams from the first person to get stabbed wake the next?   

I’ll tell you what, as much as I love me some Elsa, if someone was stabbing her in the neck with an ice pick, I gots to run and get help. Shooooot… ain’t no point in us both getting shanked. No offense.

Jesus be a good pair of running sneakers.

another cdc nightmare…

By on June 16, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it takes a village, why we as a people can't get ahead

Oh Jesus, here we go… 


Even if the weather isn’t necessarily cooperating with those of us in the tri-state area, summertime is here party people.  Wanna know how I know?

‘Cause the New York Times just published it’s annual ‘please-don’t-poop-in-the-pool’ article.  You know, the one where they report on the rising number of people swimming in NYC’s public pools that become infected with a nasty intestinal parasite that’s found in feces? 
Uh-huh,  feel free to vomit in your mouth right about now.

For those that need more details: Cryptosporidium is what they call it. The only way to become infected is through ingestion. And the reason that so many people become ill is because that bad boy can survive as  long as 10 days- EVEN IN CHLORINATED WATER. 

Talking about, “We want people to swim but be healthy about it.” Uh yeah, no thanks. 

Jesus be the cold water in my shower until I arrive at a beach far, far away…

reminds me of my honey days…

By on June 15, 2009 in desperate cry for help, i die, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

It’s been a long while since I’ve come across a blog that I kid you not, makes me want to pee my pants. You know the ones that are so good you can’t help but stop whatever you were supposed to be doing (like work) read every single, solitary entry from wherever it starts until the very end? 

But then, lo and behold- StopnReflect.com
There are no words for the tomfoolery that is this website dedicated to the fashion tragedies that occur New York City.  I implore each and everyone to take a minute and check it out.  
Oh and by the way, you now owe me a good laugh.

not living life in darkness…

By on June 12, 2009 in Mitzi- all day every day

Has anyone NOT seen the post, What Black Women Can Learn From Michelle Obama? I swear it’s been circulating all week like a viral flu…


For those that haven’t, this sentence from the article sums it up: if black women are going to defy the statistics, they need to start being more realistic. Holding out for the perfect man, someone who is intellectual but not nerdy—cool but not arrogant—impeccably dressed but not effeminate—not a player but with just the right amount of edge—is useless.

And you know what my response to that entire train of thought is? YOU SHUT UP.

Cause forreal, forreal, why are we so quick to assume that Michelle was being ‘realistic’ (read: settling) when she started dating Barack? Maybe the First Lady has a thing for skinny bi-racial guys with big ears that are into helping the community and wanna be President?? How do you know that Barack wasn’t EXACTLY what she was holding out for? And so what if the car he was dead broke and driving a hoopie?You ain’t never seen a sexy struggling artist/activist that could get it? Shoot, we’ve ALL seen the pics of him smoking ganja. Ain’t nothing about that man look the least bit nerdy or effeminate- at all.

All I know is, I continue to work DAMN hard to pull myself into a marketable package. And I want to see the same in my partner. 

I refuse to spend a moment (let alone the remainder) of my life with a man that makes me wish I was anywhere else under the sun but with him.  And that’s exactly how I (or anyone that’s willing to be honest with themselves) will feel if we give up the search and start accepting whatever is in front of us…

If I don’t like lame guys, I’m not dating them.  If I don’t like dudes who are excessively overweight, I’m not dating them.  If I don’t like men who spend more time grooming themselves and looking in the mirror than me, I’m just not dating them.  PERIOD. 

I refuse to walk through life in a pair of dark shades so that my significant other doesn’t notice all the side-eye I’m throwing at him just for being him.  And keep it one thousand, if you’ve ever been with someone that works your nerves for no good reason, you understand exactly what I’m talking about.

And on the flip side, I for damn sure don’t want anyone settling for me. If I’m not the one- Keep It Moving Shorty. There are way too many options out there for you to be wasting my time, making me jump through hoops when you already know I won’t ever measure up. No thanks, I’m good. 

Oh and real talk, NONE of the women that I know in relationships/ marriages worth talking about EVER settled.

CATEGORIES

Contact

Name
Email
Message

Yay! Message sent.
Error! Please validate your fields.
Design by materialdsign.com