Mitzi

andele mi gente…

By Mitzi on April 17, 2009 in desperate cry for help, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

Yo, forreal? Sometimes advertisers be on that ish….

Can someone puh-lease tell me what in the world Burger King ad execs were thinking when they created a campaign for the new Texican burger that features a squat Mexican draped in his country’s flag next to a tall American?

And wait on it…A TV version of the ad shows the strapping cowboy and the pint-sized Mexican wrestler — nicknamed “Just a Little Bit” — living together as roommates. At one point, the American lifts up the Mexican to help him put a trophy on a high shelf.

Granted, this whole campaign will never hit the states or Mexico for that matter. It ran exclusively in Europe. Guess, they thought non of the Nordic folks would object, huh? (Insert razor sharp side-eye)

But all tomfoolery aside… Did it never occur to any of the gringos that green lit this blatantly racist idea that Mexicans (shoot, all native Spanish people) might be a teeny, weeny upset? No? Not even a little pause for concern? Yeah, didn’t think so.

You can take the mule to the water but you can’t make the ass drink.

say it loud…

By Mitzi on April 16, 2009 in desperate cry for help, i die, pocket full of dirty tissue, work it white girl

Oh-wee, it’s a hard time to be a white woman, huh?

First, old girl in Florida shot the back of her son’s head off to “save his soul.”

Then poor Luan De Lesseps, the countess on “The Real Housewives of New York” (the tall, funny acting chick who used to be a regular ass nurse in CT until she landed the hubby and then got all brand new on folks), was informed via email that her gravy train was leaving her for a much younger woman of (gasp) color. Which really, really sucks when she’s got this new autobiographical etiquette guide entitled Class With the Countess: How To Live With Elegance & Flair to promote (because clearly they’re giving away book deals like water). And wait on it… why is the book all about how seduce and hang on to a man. Hilarity!!

And now, on the other side of the country, the patron saint of poor white trash Gov. Sarah Palin is catching a bad one back in Alaska. In addition to the ongoing public fighting with a freaking 19 year-old kid just cause he knocked up your fast ass daughter and left her and the baby high and dry to do appearances on Tyra; apparently her fellow lawmakers aren’t feeling her new ambitious attitude at all. Um, you giving speeches in Indiana while folks is trapped in Juneau trying to balance the state’s budget?? No maam. Them rednecks ain’t having it. In response, they’ve stripped a bunch of her little pet projects like the natural gas pipeline from the proposed Senate budget and started talked junk to whoever will listen. Uh-huh, just like that….

What can I say? Jesus be the melanin that sets me free.

everybody ain’t able…

By Mitzi on April 15, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it ain't easy, keep hope alive, Mitzi- all day every day

I really, really meant to wake up at 6 am this morning, go to bikram, return home and post something profound from a place of spiritual enlightenment and THEN go to my taping for the Food Network. But alas, the road to hell is built on good intentions. And now there are exactly 40 minutes left till I have to walk out the door, I ain’t dressed, the hair looks crazy, the dog ain’t walked and I’ve got absolutely nothing enlightening to share. Sigh.

Light a candle, I already see what kinda day this is gonna be. Feel free to follow me on twitter to find out for yourself…

comes naturally…

By Mitzi on April 14, 2009 in feedback

Sometimes I worry that folks really don’t appreciate how much skill it takes to be a proficient procrastinator. Mmm-hmm, say it with me- proficient procrastinator. You know, as in having the ability to look extremely busy while accomplishing absolutely nothing of consequence.

As a self-proclaimed connoisseur of this art, I am constantly on the look out for new and improved time wasters: reading ridiculous celeb blogs, updating on Twitter, figuring out how to use the Garage Band application and but of course, Facebook.

Ah Facebook. Next to taking Drama for a long walk on a sunny day, that right there is my most favoritest of all the time wasters. I mean, seriously? Who needs to write a book proposal or hook up the new printer when I can spend all day catching up with people I haven’t thought about since 8th grade? Oh let’s not forget the god awful party pictures from the opening of a sardine can that you and the crew attended last month??? The BEST.

But sometimes, things on FB can get a little tricky. Especially when it comes to the friend request department… Lord knows that everyone doesn’t need access to all the personal messages that are being left on the Wall or worse, the candid shots from last summer’s trip to the Vineyard. Can I get an amen?

So lemme ask you this, what would you do if an ex from a nasty break-up tried to reconnect and become friends through FB?

According to the poll you took many eons ago, 21% would ‘try to be the bigger person’ and accept the request. 6% would accept to save face and then delete immediately afterwards. While a whopping 71% said you would straight ignore and never respond.

If you know anything about me, you know I’m so rolling with the majority on this one. Ain’t no need to be faking like we cool when we aren’t. You know what you did, I know what I did, now Keep It Moving Shorty. I don’t want you all up in my business and I damn sure don’t care about yours.

And while I understand the political correctness of initially accepting and then deleting, I just don’t care enough. It takes a lot of negative energy to have a messy break-up nowadays. So if our situation was crazy, LEAVE ME ALONE. So what if you’re fat and married with five kids. God bless home girl’s heart, she’s a better woman than me.

In fact, I’m willing to bet that the forreal, forreal reason the 21% of you are so willing to accept the request is just so you can be Facebook spying on folks. Checking for recent pics and to see whether or not he got married before you did. Man, listen. How Jay-Z put it? Oh yeah, what you eat don’t make me shit.

Word.

wet seal certified…

By Mitzi on April 13, 2009 in cuteness kills, made for the maury show, tagging out, too old for the road

My God, do you remember that unfortunate period of time when flashing the strings of a thong over your super, super low rise jeans was considered a bold fashion statement? You know, right around the time folks actually believed that Sisqo from Dru Hill was anything but 1-800-ON-FIRE? Uh-huh, we sure have lived through some Dark Ages my friends…

Well, what you know about a group of “innovative”Japanese designers (emphasis on the sarcastic quote marks) doing their darnedest to damn us all back into that hell. Yes sir. Just in time for the summer, they rolled out a new style of jeans so low they require the attached bikini straps to keep them up. Talking about, “now women can be even more booty-licious.” Sigh. Bootylicious? In 2009? Really?

Someone please pass me the barf bag.

happy easter weekend…

By Mitzi on April 10, 2009 in feedback

Probably the only good thing about Spring’s reluctant return is that it’s given us a couple more weeks before open-toe season begins. While the Lord knows how excited I am to chuck those heavy ass Gortex snow boots to the back of my closet, mama’s monthly budget is so not looking forward to the weekly cost of the mandatory mani/ pedi. Okay?

Which led me to recall yet another long lost poll question that I never discussed: What takes priority- bikini area or fresh mani/ pedi? (See, it might take a while, but I always get it in.)

74% said that fingers and toes are most important because they’re the thing that everyone sees. While 25% went with the bikini area because its the area the most important people see, no?

Hmmm, this was a tough one. But personally, I think I’m rocking with the minority. Oh and it has absolutely nothing to do with who is or isn’t lucky enough to get up close and personal, thank you very much. Nope, there’s just too much riding on a well groomed bikini area.

I mean there’s the obvious- appearance. Talk about a pretty panty killer. Nothing says, ‘vomit in your mouth’ more than the chick in the gym locker room strolling around with TUFTS of pubs poking around the side of her drawers. Listen here honey, I don’t give a good goddamn how much you paid for that La Perla set. If you’ve got a bush situation, its a wrap.

And then you already know my forreal, forreal pet peeve- smell. Don’t you think it’s hard enough to stay fresh and clean when the outside temperature rises? Why add a handful of hair to the mix? All up in the crease of your leg and butt cheeks? Uuugh, call me neurotic but I can’t.

So yes, stepping out with the butter soft heels and fresh to death polish job is an important part of your personal appearance (otherwise, I wouldn’t be looking for quarters in the back of my couch to add to the pretty toes trust fund). But please believe, my priority is to keep it tight behind the scenes. Because when I put my undies on one leg at a time, everything needs to fit inside.

mama needs her nerve pills…

By Mitzi on April 9, 2009 in desperate cry for help, miracle on 169th street, supermarket dreams on a bodega budget, tagging out, why we as a people can't get ahead

I love the hell outta my ‘hood but I HATE my local post office.

No matter the time of the day, whenever I walk in there are at least 25 smelly people waiting in line and only two dusty ass service windows open. Talking about they’re sorry for the long wait but the branch is severely understaffed.

Bump that! We can ALL see the five random employees milling around behind the 1000 year-old teller doing a whole lot of NOTHING. Why don’t you go tell Maria and Jose to stop eating the arroz con pollo and come do something?? DAMMIT!

Not for nothing, I thought you had to at least have a GED to work for the US government? Am I right? So what’s the problem? Why is something so simple as choosing to pay for the stamps with my American Express card seem like I’m asking you to go through Armageddon??

Ay con Dios.

where are the flashlight cops when u need them…

By Mitzi on April 9, 2009 in going to hell in a handbasket, i die, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out, too old for the road

Okay normally there is nothing funny about a suicide. I repeat, nothing funny. But the keyword in the previous phrase would be NORMALLY.

Yesterday afternoon, a 50 year-old woman jumped to her death from the third floor of the Queens Center Mall atrium and wait on it… LANDED on a 17 year-old high school kid down below!!

Apparently Derrick Munoz and his girlfriend were reclining in some leather massage chairs when ‘ole girl landed dead on his head and knocked him THE FUCK OUT. Mmm-hmmm… And you know Jesus got jokes when the sign on the back of the chair said, “Sit back and relax.”

Not SIT BACK and RELAX!!!

OK, on the forreal, forreal, who does something like this? Who jumps over the banister in a crowded mall? And from the 3rd floor? Come on now ma, you weren’t even going hard. I know you know somebody with a balcony on the top floor of one of those 30-story project housing buildings. If it’s your last statement, why not make it count? Sigh, unbelievable.

Thankfully, poor Derrick finally regained consciousness in the ambulance en route to the hospital. And aside from a large gash on his head there were no other visible signs of injury.

Ding, ding, ding…

I need to give my mom a hug…

By Mitzi on April 8, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it's in the genes, it's not a game out there, tagging out, work it white girl

Okay so just when I thought it was going to be a quiet day in the headlines, I peeped this article about a deranged FL mother shooting her own kid to death because wait on it… the looney toon honestly believed she was Satan. And that by murdering her child, she was ‘saving his soul.’ Um yeah, write that down.

Apparently, 44 year-old Marie Moore took her 20 year-old son to a shooting range, waited for him to get settled in the practice range booth and then proceeded to blow the back of his head off.

Check out the above photo that was captured on the security camera… Just. Like. That.

Now here’s my main problem with this madness-cause there are just so many things wrong- this chick had a history of schizophrenia. And apparently, she had tried to kill herself in the shooting range before. Why in the slack-ass-FL-state-gun-law-hell was this nutjob allowed back up in the spot???

I swear, it’s like nowadays they got tighter security in a damn mall department store than a shooting range. Sigh.

Jesus please ring the bell, we need to stage an immediate do-over on that one right there.

its good to be gay in VT…

By Mitzi on April 8, 2009 in feedback

Good lord its a slow news days…

And since I have zero emotional energy to discuss the abducted 8 year-old girl whose body was just found stuffed in a freaking suitcase in a dairy farm pond, I figured we’d dig in the crates and discuss the results to one of my older poll questions…

Okay, this was an interesting one:

Do you think watching porn reduces or increases performance anxiety?

78% of you said that it reduces your stage fright while 21% insist it only made your nerves bad. Interesting.

Personally, I’m neutral on this one. I can leave or take the porn- it does absolutely nada for the kid. If anything, I think I find it so outrageously staged that it becomes laughable. Sure having a penis pounding in your ear and another simultaneously in your butt is a turn-on, sure it is. Insert image of my patented blank stare with exactly three blinks.

In spirit of full disclosure- Im pretty sure my mental ‘block’ on the virtues and pleasures of porn has everything to do with the trifling first experience I had back in the day. Let me tell you what had happened-

For whatever reason, the second dude I ever tried to have sex with could not for the life of him stay hard. It was so tragic. Mind you, if his pants were on then we were all good. But as soon as he started to get undressed and I could actually look AT the penis (and you know my STD paranoid behind insisted on looking), it’d shrivel right up. Uh-huh, you do the math.

Needless to say, by the third attempt to disrobe, I was 1-800-D-O-N-E. On some, “I don’t know what’s going on with YOU and THAT but as for me, I’m finished here” type ish. In response this fool, grabs me by the arm and is like, “wait, wait, don’t get dressed! I know what it it is! I just need to see some porn. Do you have any magazine or tapes?” Um, EXCUSE YOU???

Shoot, it’s bad enough I was all up in my mother’s house acting too grown for the road and then you wanna ask somebody to play you a dirty movie?? Negro is you CRAZY??? Trust, that fool barely finished getting dressed before I put that ass the hell out. Kick rocks!

Sigh, and ever since then, I’ve givin’ porn the real side-eye. I’m not mad, if it’s your thing. But on GP (general principle) I just can’t get worked up about it. Period.

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