Mitzi

i leave you alone for 5 min…

By Mitzi on November 24, 2008 in made for the maury show

So after six wonderful days of kicking it with my girl Carmen (sans cell phone, radio or internet) in Belize, I’m back. And just what do you think is the very first news story that I read is about? Wait on it…

Some 19 year-old college student in Miami that committed suicide live on the web. Seriously? And apparently, not only did a bunch of people log on to watch this unfortunate fool pop the lethal dose of prescription pills, some of the sickos were actually cheering him on. My god. What kind of world are we living in?

But admit it, as soon as you read: “suicide”, “live on the web” and “prescription pills,” the first thing that ran through your mind was- “Rich white kids got too much damn time and access. They can’t even kill themselves without an audience nowadays.” Right? Well, don’t feel bad. Me too. But don’t you know, ole dude was a black guy named Abraham…. Damn shame. I blame Paris Hilton.

everybody has a thing…

By Mitzi on November 16, 2008 in Mitzi- all day every day

And for those that know me, it’s definately my birthday a.k.a Worldwide Mitzi Day!

So after kicking off my Jesus year celebration (if you don’t know about that, you better ask somebody) with a fabulous night of dinner and dancing with the girls, I’m headed out of the country to keep my party going for the next week.

No worries, while I’m gone I’ll be thinking of even more ridiculous moment mindset questions to leave you frustrated as all get out. And yes, when I get back we will definately discuss the 58% of you that want a partner who’s entire body stinks versus the 41% who voted for a nice person with the yuck mouth.

Till then, don’t forget to vote in this week’s poll question! You’ve got seven days, make it happen!

Till then…..

time to ride out…

By Mitzi on November 14, 2008 in love be a cellulite cream

Well, lookee here- seems the saddlebags have it. A solid 63% would rather have (or date) a woman who bears the burden of stretch-marked saddlebags than deal with a noticeably flat butt. Mmm-hmm… I know that’s right.

‘Cause here’s the thing, no matter how fantastic the 36% of your legs look, nothing in the world overrides flatback (just ask Paris Hilton or Cameron Diaz). There are no miracle jeans tight enough to hide the fact that your neck runs into your ankles. And I’m not even gonna go there with the bikini bottoms…. I mean what are you gonna do, keep your back to the wall your entire life? No sir. All I can do is wish you good luck and an interesting collection of thongs.

As for me and my saddlebags… Well, we’ll be wearing Spanx and running on the treadmill until we straight collapse like Isaac Hayes- no offense. And if God forbid, that lifetime supply of Fatgirl Slim cellulite cream really doesn’t make a difference, there’s always dim lighting and dermabrasion.

rip old dirty bastard…

By Mitzi on November 13, 2008 in feedback

In an ideal world, no one would have to choose between love and a dream career. But as we’ve all learned from watching TMZ- ain’t no such thing as a perfect world. No matter who you are…

With that said, I’m happy to report that romance is far from dead. A whopping 76% would choose finding the love of their lives over a dream career. Wow, I am very impressed. I guess my friend Melissa probably summed it up best when she said that she couldn’t imagine a job fulfilling her as much as being with her soulmate. And you know, like my very happily married homegirl who left her own fabulous life in the big city to move to a distant CT suburb so patiently explained to me when I balked at her drastic lifestyle change, “I thought I had everything until I met him. And then nothing mattered as much.” Feel free to insert the ooh, ahh and sigh. Don’t you just heart love?

But I gotta tell ya when it’s all said and done, I’m betting on Mitzi. Like the remaining 23%, I choose the career of my dreams all day every day. And it has nothing to do with believing that being wealthy will make me happy. Simply put, I’m not willing to depend on any so-called soulmate to “complete me.” Uh-uh, my nerves are too bad for that. Besides, by now shouldn’t we all understand the basic science of maintaining a happy home??? “When mama’s happy, everybody’s happy but when mama’s ain’t happy…”

I wholeheartedly believe that if I’m pursuing my true passion, I can love and be more than satisfied with whomever I’m with (as long as we’re err-um physically compatible). Call me a control freak but the idea of waiting for the perfect person to experience the height of happiness is crazy. I’m all about making that happen now. Whenever Mr. Right shows up, he can join the party in progress (a.k.a get in where you fit in).

Disclaimer: This time around, I’m probably a bit bias because I really do LOVE my career (note: not a job)- annoying editors, stressful deadlines, check chasing and all. If I never ever, ever, ever get to be a nuevo black housewife with my nanny, maid and therapist dream team, I’ll be sad but certainly still wake up every day happy to do me.

god don’t like ugly…

By Mitzi on November 12, 2008 in made for the maury show

You know what? Under normal circumstances, I would feel bad for any woman who is senselessly murdered by a group of strangers. But when you respond to an online KKK recruitment ad and then find yourself shot up and tossed under some bushes… well there’s just not much I can do with that. No offense.

And the worse part? Investigators are saying that deranged loonies that did this aren’t even a part of the “real” KKK (as if there are real and fake ways to be down with a hate group). As the Louisiana Parish Sheriff Jack Strain so kindly put it, “The IQ level of this group is not impressive, to be kind… This is not what I would call an established Klan group. Some of these guys are just crooks, sociopaths.” Good grief.

Read the story and go thank your parents for the common sense they instilled within you.

on fire…

By Mitzi on November 11, 2008 in it ain't easy

Who didn’t see Michelle Obama’s fly red dress yesterday??? I swear, Elsa called me mid-shift from the hospital all excited talking about, “Did you see the dress???” I could barely say hello before she blurted her question out. And for those who don’t really understand, let me put it in perspective: My mother who probably should’ve been in the middle of helping somebody breathe while they were sedated had to take a moment to call and cut up about how dope The future first lady looked. How crazy is that???

If Barack thinks he’s under pressure, god bless poor Michelle. She has been saddled with the hopes and dreams of every fashion conscious Black woman since she stepped out in that breath taking purple sheath/ black leather belt combo. Remember her KILLING homey ass Elisabeth on The View with the black and white dress?? Act don’t like I’m the only one who wanted to back slap her and Narcisco Rodriguez for that unfortunate red and black number she wore last Tuesday night!! My god if it didn’t feel almost sacrilegious to say anything negative about election night, folks would have been eating her ALIVE.

All along, through the various tie-dyed, flower on the collar, bows on her neck fiascos I’ve been keep my head down and praying that this was simply a deliberate decision to dumb down her fashion sense and not a sign of bad things to come. I could see the side eye she was giving when Barack said, “Baby, you know the coal miner’s daughter don’t know nothing about those Sergio Rossi stiletos. Can you just please do this for me? Pretty please??” She definitely took one for the team.

But today sisters are vindicated. Michelle aka the Black Jackie O is back with a vengeance. When Barack helped her out of the limo, tears came to my eyes. You can’t tell me that Laura Bush wasn’t looking like the ultimate Washed Out White Woman next to Michelle’s statuesque ‘Me and Mine’s Are Straight Taking Over.” And I’ll bet President Bush was jealous as hell. Like, damn Laura why you ain’t never, ever, ever look like that!!

I’m telling you, Barack and Michelle making Black women the fire everyday all day.

next stop nursing home…

By Mitzi on November 10, 2008 in Uncategorized

It’s official- we are getting old. And yes, I said WE.

42% of the folks can’t remember the last time the magic happened in a public place. Can you imagine if I’d asked this question say… five years ago? I’m willing to bet 42% would’ve chosen the “this week” option (and yes, I’m including myself in that). Sigh, so sad.

Of course, the mature part of my mind wants to rationalize the change in direction as a positive thing. “Oh, it’s because nowadys most of us have our own homes with expensive beds-sans parents-so we don’t have to act up in public places AND not for nothing, have you seen how disgusting bathrooms in the clubs are nowadays??? Hooking up in public is so dead.” But then…. the little voice in my head whispers, “Yeah right. That’s just a politically correct excuse for being less spontaneous. Ain’t nothing wrong with a little act up every now and then. You and your crew (well almost all of my crew) are just actin’ like old biddies.”

The reality is, if 25% of you guys were able to figure it out at some point in 2008, then the movement can’t be completely over, right?

So hats off to the 5% who were able to make the magic happen this past month. I just hope that it wasn’t on a park bench, playground swing, bathroom stall or backseat of a car that I’ll be on anytime soon.

And as for the 25% who have never, ever, ever… God bless your hearts. Elsa is probably disowning me and recruiting a new eldest daughter after reading this post. Hee hee. Feel free to submit your applications.

next comes the ark…

By Mitzi on November 10, 2008 in made for the maury show, tapped out

Alrighty then… It seems the euphoria three-fourths of this country continues to experience after Obama’s decisive victory last Tuesday night, doesn’t necessarily extend to the rest of the world. Because yesterday afternoon over in Jerusalem a big ass brawl popped off inside of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (alledgedly the spot where Jesus was crucified).
I’m talking tear down, drag out, beat ‘em up fight that only ended when the Israeli police storm the holy site with machine guns and pulled folks apart. But wait on it, guess who was up in God’s house throwin Ds like they were back at The Tunnel back in 1992???… Freaking monks!!!

Under normal circumstances I would ask Jesus to take the wheel. But for some reason, I feel like he may have left the building on this one. Read the story and light a candle.

all up in my head…

By Mitzi on November 7, 2008 in never too grown

You know what? Folks do not play about their hair.

Whether it’s long, short, weaved, permed or even natural, 68% weren’t willingly to change up the ‘do for anybody besides your damn self. And I am not mad atcha. Lord only knows what I go through to get my hair looking halfway decent and here you go. Talking about what YOU like. Uh-uh, no sir. Until you start ponying up the $250 a week for Edris to work her magic on this nappy head of mine… and even then. I have one thing to say: Mind. Ya. Business.

But, I commend the 31% of you who admit that you are open to the idea of changing up your hairstyle. Compromise is an important tool in relationship building. And there’s no point in denying that most men have very distinct taste in hair and often decide who they will (or won’t) date based on them. I see the vision. I just can’t sip the Kool-Aid.

All tomfoolery aside, for most of us it’s a bigger issue than how we choose to style our hair. I am not anti-change or compromise if it’s gonna make my significant other happy. After all, it is just hair. It will grow back (we hope). I just think asking me to cut/grow/weave/perm my hair feels like a sly way of saying, ‘Actually, I don’t like the way you look.’ And if that’s how you really feel, then we probably need to re-evaluate our situation.

light a candle…

By Mitzi on November 6, 2008 in going to hell in a handbasket, made for the maury show

As I grow older, I become increasingly grateful for all the “hands-on” discipline that I learned from my parents. I truly believe all those close encounters with the leather belt, plastic spatula, shoe, or whatever else my mom and dad could get their hands on really made me a productive member of society. As for those who don’t believe that a quick smack makes all the difference, I humbly enter exhibit A:

“Shout out to the slave masters! Without them we’d still be in Africa. We wouldn’t be here to get this ice and tattoos” – Soulja Boy to journalist Toure when asked what historical figure he dislikes the most.

You see? That right there? That is a young man who CLEARLY does not respect the power of the wide leather belt or the twist and pull pinch on the back of your arm. Trust, you will never hear statements like that from those who truly understand the following equation:

“not thinking + stupid talk= big painful welts on your butt“

And to think, he said it to the press on the red carpet? I. Can’t.

We have a long way to go my people…

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