Author: Mitzi

As a woman, I’m accustomed to men making unwanted/ uninvited/ inappropriate advances when walking down a NYC street. Normally, I simply charge it to the game and try to remember to return the favor whenever I see a cute construction worker (nothing like a man in a hard hat). But yesterday while running errands on 34th Street with my girl, Rhea this guy damn near drooled on her as we walked past. I kid you not, dude seemed on the verge of taking a bite out of her face.
Granted, Rhea is a head turner any day of the week. She’s one of those rare (and highly annoying) beauties who even on an ‘off’ day, looks more effortlessly pulled together than most women I know. BUT Rhea is six months pregnant!! And in the defense of well-meaning men with normal sensibilities, you’d never know if you were looking at her behind, since she’s having a perfect pregnancy and still regularly rocks 4 inch knee high boots with the aplomb of a beauty queen. But that was not the case yesterday- this weirdo walked right up on us, damn near bumping into a huge display table because he was so busy trying to get all up in her grill. The worst.
Apparently, this has become a common occurrence according to Rhea. Who knew there were so many men with pregnancy fetishes? I mean seriously, even if Rhea wasn’t happily married- which she is- what exactly could she do with this man? Take prenatal yoga classes?
The whole encounter really made me think about the way Seal scooped Heidi Klum when she was knocked up. And moreover, how that woman STAYS getting pregnant. I’m just saying…. If Seal weren’t a star, would he just be one of those leering men tripping over his feet when pregnant lady walks by?

Why is running errands in 20 degree weather so much harder than when it’s warm outside? It’s not like the number of things on the to-do list changes… It hurts to think when I’m this cold. I was wearing no less than 5 layers of clothes and still freezing my behind off. It makes no kinda sense. And even though I was being productive in theory, at the end of the day when I finally dragged my tired, numb butt into my apartment only to discover the 150+ emails waiting in the inbox, I felt like I haven’t done a damn thing worth taking about. SIGH. I need an personal assistant. Pronto.

Okay, maybe I should start with a PDA… But not for nothing, I don’t want folks to have that much access to me. When I’m out, I’m out. I like the idea of my cellphone being just that- a phone. No you can’t send me pictures, no I won’t receive your urgent email, I barely reply to text messages (typing on the miniscule numerical keypad hurts my hand) and if you call during peak hours I probably won’t even answer. Go ‘head and try me.

So there are alot of things that add to New York City’s unique charm. In my humble opinion, topping that list is our city’s rich history. The Big Apple has been around a looooooong time. You can tell by the look, feel and yes, even grime of the city. But hey, it’s my home and I claim it. Couldn’t imagine living anywhere else… except maybe LA for the right upper six-figure deal… but I digress.

What I will not claim is the tomfoolery that is NYC gov’t lame attempt to hold things together with gum and spit. Can someone please explain to me why in the world the roof of this C line subway train barely being held together by simple duct tape that anyone can cop at the local hardware store? WHY? I’m saying, this aint no bottomless pothole that might wreck a car or two. We’re talking about a vechicle for MILLIONS of people. If you ask me, fixing this raggedy roof is probably more important than giving me another $135 parking ticket for parking in front of a fire hydrant for 30 secs while I ran in to but my MegaMillion lotto ticket. I’m just saying… Don’t you think?
Sigh. Let the prayer circle commence.

Ok, my idol/ super tight homegirl/ author extraordinaire Joan Morgan just got back from interviewing Hillary Clinton in New Orleans for vibe.com!!! How fly is that? I swear, when I grow up, I want to be just like Ms.Morgan.

Anyhoo, she finally asked the good Senator the question that’s been burning the tip of my own tonge for the longest- “How can Senator Clinton propose to lead by example and represent young women when one of her strongest supporters is Bob Johnson, the founder of BET, which airs videos that are filled with negative images of women?” Check out what Hill had to say about that and the possibility of an Obama/Clinton ’08 dream ticket:http://www.vibe.com/news/online_exclusives/2008/02/decision08_hillary_clinton_obama/

Which one are you hoping for… Obama/ Clinton ’08 or Clinton/ Obama ’08?

This afternoon I taped an episode of a series entitled, Heavyweights for the Food Network. Which is cool but not half as cool as the conversation that I had with my girl/ favorite make-up artist in the world, Romy while she was figuring out what to do about my face. Romy asserted, “Ex-boyfriends make the best boyfriends.” And I first, I started to disagree but then I had to pause. She’s absolutely right. Who’s boyfriend hasn’t acted 110% better once you cut them off? It’s like add a break-up and they instanly become the man you’ve always wanted. What is that?
‘Cause in my opinion, I have some of best ex-boyfriends in the world. They’re all such a diverse, decent looking, intelligent, personable bunch and for the most part, extremely ‘gifted’ hint, hint.
They know exactly what to say or do to bring a smile to my face. Their timing is impeccable-never forget a birthday, holiday or even favorite color. They’re patient and always so understanding of my little moments/ mini-tempertantrums. And did I mention helpful? An entire relationship can go by and not one offer to pick up some groceries. Let a break-up occur… refrigerator stocked. All the little quirks and bad habits that used to drive me up a wall are so cute…. And then it hits me- all this is possible because they’re busy being somebody else’s problem. Sigh.
I love my ex-boyfriends. Don’t you love yours too?

So exciting, I just found out that my new teen book HOTLANTA (hitting stores at the top of april) received a favorable review in Publisher’s Weekly! To put it in perspective, PW picks are the Golden Globes to New York Times Bestseller Ocar gold. Normally, PW picks receive favorable treatment from bookstores, magazines and in the case of teen books- LIBRARIES. ‘Cause it’s all about having HOTLANTA shelved in every singel high school library from here to Kalamazoo… Read what the nice lady had to say about my book:

And so I ask again, have you pre-ordered your copy of HOTLANTA yet????

After barely recovering from a vicious 24-hour flu, I went to see the final performance of The Color Purple musical last night at the Broadway Theater. Now, commonsense says I should’ve stayed my behind home and watched the Oscars. but since it was officially the last night of the show’s Broadway run and I actually paid full price for my ticket, I popped some Immodium (thanks Sharae) and went to see what all the hype was about.

And all I have to say about the show is- WHY? WHY, WHY, WHY? Why would Oprah sign off on that ridiculous interpretation of such a classic novel and movie? You say Bush doesn’t care about black people? After sitting through last night’s performance, I have some serious questions about my beloved Lady O. Otherwise how could she see on all the peeling lace front wigs, poorly placed microphones (dead on the center of the forehead? Really?), gruesome facial expressions made by Celia, unnecessary extra plot (did Celie really sell pants?) and gratuitous lesbian liason references and still co-sign on that tomfoolery? I mean seriously, when the gossipy chorus is the best part of the show, Houston we’ve got a problem.

Not to sound like a miserable killjoy- yes, I am always happy to see black people working, and there were definately some notable individual moments within the extra long two and a half hour performance but the next time an evil, lowdown dirty, ignorant woman-beating masochist like Harpo can be reformed and redeemed by simply changing his dark colored shirt to a rainbow hued plaid one, PUH-lease count me out.

I love snow days!!! But let me be specific, not the day of blustery dirty water flurries that stick to your hair instead of the ground and only make you wet and annoyed. I’m talking about a certified- winterwonderland, shut it down, curl up on the couch with my fave pillow/blanket, watch the latest delivery from Netflix and talk to my girls on the phone all day long type of snow day. SIGH. I’m in heaven right now…

Drama loves snow days too. As soon as my dog sees fresh snow, she forgets that she’s supossed to be an geriatric eleven-year old dog with a pronounced limp and bad attitude. Instead, she reverts to those long gone puppy days when she used to run amuck across my mom’s lawn leaving little trails of yellow snow behind. Hee-hee.

So I’m reading this story that was intitally reported on the CBS Early Show about a pastor in south Florida that is encouraging his married parishioners to have sex on a daily basis. According to Relevant Church head pastor Paul Wirth:
“A great sex life is a challenge and takes focus, determination, and planning,” reads the church web site. “Some say it’s an unrealistic goal, but we disagree. We believe you can have a great sex life, in fact we believe God wants you to have a great sex life.”

Can I get an amen? This man issued a 30-day challenge to all his members to go out and get some! http://www.relevantchurch.com/
All I want to know is where do I sign up for the choir? Cause for the first time in my adult life, I’m starting to think that there may actually be something to this whole organized religion thing. Praise the Lord!

Alas, the inevitable let down:
“Pastor Wirth’s 30-day challenge does not extend to unmarried congregants. Instead, they were asked to abstain from sex for the month.”

BOO.

So I’m chatting with a good friend that cuts hair for living and he mentions that he isn’t feeling so well. Something about a sore throat and tightness in the forehead… Not thinking much of it, I suggested he take some Emergency, get some rest, and promised to check on him the next day.

Well in true Mitzi form, as soon as I hung up the phone my mind got to spinning out of control- What would happen if he really got sick? Who was going to cut his clients hair? And then bringing it back to me- ’cause I always do- what would would happen if Edris, my favorite hairdresser in the whole entire world ever got sick? What if it happened on a day that I needed her? Omigod, I would be DEVASTATED. ‘Cause ask anyone who’s ever seen me with the signature EDRIS party ‘do- that woman makes my hair SANG. Whenever I leave her salon I look and feel like a sups-dupa-star!!!

Besides it’s a scientific fact that can’t nothing go right when your hair is a wreck. I’m willing to go as far as, there are just some people that should never be allowed to get sick, go on vacation, have babies, etc.- brain surgeons, the President of the United States, and most importantly, hairstylists. Shoot… Edris is just as important as my transplant coordinator and quietly, even more of a priority when it’s time to step out (no offense Maureen).

Please believe that from this day forward, without fail, I will be including Ms. Edris in ALL my daily prayers.


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