Heads up party people, mitzimoments now features a bi-weekly poll. So even if you’ve subscribed via email, there’s STILL a good reason to fall through every single day (in addition to the checking out my adorable face).
Hopefully, you’ll find my random questions as entertaining as I do (read: I’ve always been the kid who takes joy in asking the mildly inappropriate question and now I have a platform). And then just to put icing on the cake, I’ll hit you with my take on what you think. ‘Cause everybody knows that it really ain’t fun till I poke fun at someone.
Ok kids, the painting has finally begun… Of course, not without making an emergency run to my new 2nd home/ the DIY vortex/ Home Depot at 7.30am this morning. Because despite spending an entire hour and half contemplating every shade of beige, tan and brown known to man, I still managed to walk out with a color that looked like barf when I did my stripe pre-test (thank you Joan for the pre-test suggestion). SIGH.
Fingers crossed, it will all blend together from here on in. Get it, “blend“??? Ha.
So after three and a half long years in my apartment, I am finally ending my love/ hate relationship with the eclectic, DIY decor theme (read: haphazard, whatever works) that I’ve assembled and completely redecorating all the major rooms. Recession be damned; I’m talking new paint, new furnishings, and an all over new grown and sexy attitude. Are you with me?
But I gotta tell you, your girl has absolutely ZERO home decorating skills and even less interest in the HDTV channel whatsoever. Like seriously, the very thought of the paint section of Home Depot gives me an anxiety attack. There are like a ka-zillion different shades of freaking white. How the hell an I supposed to know which one works best in my apartment??? Then there all these technical temperature terms- warm color, cool shade, etc, etc. And we haven’t even started on the throw pillows and conversational pieces…MY GOD.
All I want to know is, where is my Martha Stewart gene? How come I can’t figure out what subtle tones and what shades compliment each other just by looking at the paper swatches. And more importantly, why isn’t it a good idea to paint my accent wall hot pink????
Oh my GOD, Sarah Silverman released what is by far the funniest get-out-and-vote-for-Obama video EVER. In what’s being called The Great Schlep movement, Sarah encourages young liberal Jewish voters to get off their fat asses, fly to Florida and convince their grandparents not to screw Barack Obama over in the election just because his middle name is Hussein. I promise you, its so funny I started to snort!!
Just cause it made me so happy, not only am I providing a link but, I’ve also added the actual video at the very bottom of the page (so scroll down NOW). Oh and if you’re Jewish or have a good Jewish friend, PLEASE pass it along. This election is WAY too important to be complacent…
So apparently OJ isn’t the only one headed directly to the clink.
Earlier today, a Hong Kong jury dismissed an appeal by Nancy Kissel the American housewife (read: privileged white woman) has was convicted of murder and sent to prison for life after feeding her wealthy Merrill Lynch banker hubby a sedative spiked milkshake and then wait on it… clubbing him to death with a statuette. Then homegirl rolled his body up in a carpet and tried to hide him in a storage room. Too bad in real life, bodies decompose and the rancid smell of rotting flesh gave her away. EEWWWAAAA!
The ‘Milkshake Murderess’ as she has come to be known, has repeatedly tried to claim self-defense. But I’m thinking all that went through the window when the prosecution found out about the TV repairman lover waiting for her back in the United States.
Why is this so the next Lifetime movie of the week? I can see the title now…
Clubbed For Love.
Come on, you know I’m right…
I lucked up on a ticket to last night’s VH1’s Hip-Hop Honors Awards. And although I’m not normally a fan of attending shows that are going to be taped for TV (too much down time changing sets, reading lines for commercials, and overall time inefficiency); I have to say it was really good.
Granted, I’m a huge fan of all the acts that were honored- Cyprus Hill, De La Soul, Slick Rick, Too $hort, and Naughty by Nature-so from the beginning I was excited. But what really put the night over the edge were how amazing the majority of the performances by the non-nominated artists. When Busta Rhymes came out dressed in the bright aqua knickers with a matching eye patch to perform a Slick Rick tune, I DIED. Scarface, Estelle, Q-Tip, Big Boi, Mos Def, Cee Lo, freakin’ EPMD(!?!?)…
Oh when I tell you that Naughty by Nature ripped it DOWN with OPP?? I didn’t even remember that I liked that song. But there I was singing along to every single word like it was 1991… loudly. Can I tell you, it feels so good to be old school!
It’s that’s time again (drum roll, please)…..
The latest installment in my Essence Magazine certified, Publisher’s Weekly praised, African American Literature Award nominated teen series HOTLANTA; IF ONLY YOU KNEW; is in bookstores nationwide RIGHT NOW. WooHoo! Yip-Pee! This is where the bottles pop and the crowds start chanting my name!! 
IF ONLY YOU KNEW continues the crazy, drama-filled adventures of ATL hotgirls Sydney and Lauren Duke- the ‘flyest’, wealthiest, ‘it’ girls Buckhead has seen in a loooong time. If you ain’t know before, it’s a page turner for all ages! If you watch The Hills, Gossip Girl, Baldwin Hills or any of the many scandalous young adult shows on television, you’re gonna LOVE my book. And if you don’t, you still love me and that should be more than enough.
So seriously, what I really, really, really need you do is, run, not walk or stroll to your nearest bookstore and purchase your copies IMMEDIATELY-one for you, your mom/aunt/sister/baby cousin and the closest teenager in your life. And then puh-lease, TELL SOMEBODY I DON’T KNOW to buy a copy. At $8.99 a pop, its the perfect birthday/ holiday/ everyday gift.
And if you’re caught up inthe gas crisis, by all means, make your purchase online at amazon. Every sale counts, not to mention there’s a free shipping incentive going on RIGHT NOW:
http://www.amazon.com/Hotlanta-Novel-Only-You-Knew/dp/0545003091/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1222962095&sr=1-1
Keep it real, don’t you like being able to say you know an author who’s at the top of Amazon’s bestseller list? Wouldn’t you like to see me sitting on Oprah’s couch talking smack?? Well if you support my books, that very well might happen. But if you don’t… what you’re gonna be saying is, I KNEW a writer who is now break dancing for dollars at the 34th Street/ Herald Square subway station.
And nobody wants that, right?
So as usual, I’m running a little behind on updating my peeps. Please blame it on my head, not my heart… Anyhoo, I am sad to say that Denene and I did not win the African American Literary Award for our category. Sniffle, sniffle… Although definitely disappointed, knowing that our work was worth a mention is reward enough (at least I’m sure that’s what my mom would want me to say). But between you, me and the wall- the second book in the series is 100x better and it’s on and popping the next time!
So this past Friday night, after the debate (because I sure wasn’t about to miss Obama tearing McCain up for nothing), I headed down to Room Service for this Puma party for Usain Bolt my boy Ed told me about.
SIDEBAR: You know you’re not socializing enough when the party promoter that you used to see every other day including the weekend’s jaw straight hits the floor when you show up at the velvet rope. And the only thing he can think to say is, “DAYUM Mitzi! What are YOU doin’ out???”
But I digress… So, once inside the club I promise you, not even 5 minutes passes before some random peroxide Goldilocks pushes past and slaps me in the face with her dried out tresses. And I’m instantly reminded why I stopped coming out to these industry events in the first place. Luckily, Ed was there to keep me from making a beeline for the nearest exit. God bless his heart. “Let it go, she don’t don’t have no home training,” he advised. And I tried. I even found an an old hanging partner of mine, Sandy that was out on the prowl with her crew and tried to relax. And can I tell you, God truly protects babies and fools in 4 inch stiletos. Just as the ache in my arch was gonna force me to throw in the towel, Chuck materialized and asked whether I wanted to sit down. Amen, Hallelujah! Before you could say free champagne, Sandy, her nameless Latina girlfriend, nameless Asian girlfriend and I all made a beeline for the VIP section.
So now I’m sitting on the couch, talking smack to Sandy and wondering how much longer my old bones are gonna last when out of NOWHERE, this perky looking girl walks over to the table and is like, “Hey ladies, do you wanna meet Usain Bolt? Just follow me!” Excuse you? I wasn’t sure what homegirl was talking about but it couldn’t hurt to go look right? I mean I was wearing the extra fitted purple sweater dress. Might as well make the most of it.
Next thing I know all four of us were ushered into the super tiny VIP-VIP section and people were shoving drinks in our hands, taking pictures and trying to get us to make nice with the world’s fastest man (who by the way looked super overwhelmed with his entire immediate family surrounding him like the secret service and throwing mad shade at all the ‘fast’ American women). It was very much like back in college when you joined the hostess committee to welcome all the new promising athletes… wink, wink.
To be honest, I don’t think I lasted ten minutes beyond the hello. My nerves were too bad. I kept thinking about all the places those photos will go in cyberspace (for perfect example, see above). I know I read The YBF, how bout you? So. Not. Cute.
In retrospect, I’m not quite sure how I should feel about what happened. On one hand, it’s a lot to be on the ho train at 32. But then on the other hand, it’s kind dope to be young enough looking to be on the ho train at 32. No? You tell me…
I woke up this morning feeling kinda funky. Not in the literal- you ain’t wash yo bootie/ brush the teeth- way. It was more emotional. Like very much fussy and sad, you know? So my knee jerk reaction was to cast blame on the crappy weather and neverending clutter in my apartment. So to ward off the blues, I immediately set about cleaning up. And I cleaned from the kitchen on back, deadline be damned, I cleaned my house today. And still, the funkiness remained.
Then I happened to gance at my calendar and it all came together. This weekend is the Atlanta Classic!! Where my illustrious alma mater Florida A&M University (the dopest HBCU in the country) will be whooping all up on Tennessee State University like a red-headed stepchild while all my old ass college friends will be simultaneously getting drunk and actin’ up like it’s still 1997 up in that piece. Cause we what? Bleed Orange and Green! And when it’s all said and done- ain’t no party like a FAMU party!!!
I on the other hand, will be stuck here in New York City, trying to earn a living and keep the lights on. Sigh, sure hope the homies remember to pour a little liquor out for the kid. I got you next year!