Mitzi Moments

Category: desperate cry for help

keepin’ up the crazy…

By on August 3, 2010 in desperate cry for help, end of days, honorary white woman, made for the maury show, supermarket dreams on a bodega budget, why we as a people can't get ahead

Since it’s so late in the game I really, really didn’t think I should bother posting this video. But as many times as I watch this video, I just can’t get enough. And I figure if the Essence controversy can still be going on strong than shoot, I’m gonna get mine in too.

Now remember:

Hide ya kids, Hide ya wife and hide ya husband, cause they raping everybody out here!

*swan dives into the shallow end of the pool*

need to put the bullseye right btwn their eyes…

By on August 3, 2010 in desperate cry for help, end of days, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out

Hmm, so Goldman Sachs has announced that despite being legally able (for the first time ever), they will not spend any money in the 2010 elections.


Well isn’t that nice and civic oriented of them to stay out of politics and mind their business? Fingers crossed, they’ll take the money that they’re not using to buy elections and instead make a donation to various job creation, community service type organizations across this same country whose economy they’ve managed to destroy. *shrug* I’m just saying.

On the other hand, I sure wish Target had taken a clue…

It is with a broken heart that I recently learned that one of my most favoritest mass retailer has contributed $150,000 in cash and services to MN Forward, a PAC in Minnesota that supported the election of Republican Tom Emmer governor of the state.

It turns out that not only is Emmer anti-gay marriage but he also very publicly supports You Can Run But You Cannot Hide Intl., a Christian right organization that calls the execution of gays and lesbians morals.

But wait on it, when they were called to the mat for making this donation they basically responded by saying we make political decisions based on business not civic rights. (READ: To hell with your human rights, and how you feel. we’re helping out whomever is gonna keep business taxes low).

SILENCE

Corporate America sucks. And while it may be all about business to them, civic rights are important to me and all my friends. The End.
If you agree, feel free to sign the petition and let them know.

stealin’ sneakers from behind the speakers…

By on July 26, 2010 in desperate cry for help, end of days, i die, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out, too old for the road, why we as a people can't get ahead

So I started out the day thinking, “Wow. I really need to say an extra prayer for President Obama. ‘Cause it seems like every other day it’s something else. If it’s not the recession, health care, BP’s oil spill or an improper firing of an official then it’s the leaking of classified military documents that make the entire administration look CRAZY for A) allowing top secret info to get out and B) continuing to send our soldiers into a war that we obviously cannot win. It’s too much.


BUT THEN, I saw the senseless tragedy that are the pics of Foxy Brown from her performance at B.B. Kings on TheYBF.com…

Umm.

First of all, who are her family and friends? Because aside the fact that some fool co-signed on the idea of a wearing brown leather mini in the middle of July- as a woman, I can take one look at this ridiculous contraption and know that she needed about two or three strong people to help squeeze her fat ass into it. So before I even go a sentence further, be very, very clear, whomever those people are- they HATE her. HATE.

Now beyond the obvious treachery, what the hell happened to her body? I’m not saying people aren’t allowed to gain weight. Especially since Foxy has clearly been on a permanent hiatus since Jay-Z stopped hitting her off with lyrics and whatever else your dirty little minds can imagine. DEAD FISH EYES. But forreal? What in the lopsided hell happened to Inga? About the skinny chicken legs, multiple Michelin tires around the waist, fat boobs hanging out around her belly button and still no eyebrows in 2010? Uh, uh Ms. Marchand, no bueno.

And the absolutely worst part to me? WHAT’S GOING ON WITH HER TEETH?? Why in the world is it all dark, black and empty where her back molars should be?? AAAHHHHH! And ya’ll already know, how I feel about the dentist… *gags* But I’ll tell you what, this rotten tooth smile nonsense right here makes me want to bump appointment up to like, tomorrow.

I mean… I’m just so sad. It’s so awful how far she’s fallen. SMH. Perhaps we should all just be thankful that her cotton panties match her nail polish.

No? Not going for that? *kanye shrug* Fuckkit. At least I tried…

*cues Brand Nubian’s ‘Slow Down’ and turns it ALL the way up*

gotta look good for the cameras…

By on July 21, 2010 in desperate cry for help, end of days, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out

In case I never have the opportunity to tell you again, cuteness kills.


Exhibit A: my screwed up right knee.

See what had happened was … Instead of scaling back on the daily run when my knee started to ache and swell weeks ago, I stupidly decided to keep going. Why you ask? Um, cause my hardheaded self decided that just once I wanted to hit my exact weight loss goal. Now my dumbass is limping around the crib until I get the results from this MRI test I’ve scheduled for next week. (And no, I still ain’t hit anywhere near the target weight.)

So because of said screwed up knee I am now only able to use the recumbent bike. (You know the one where all the old ladies sit down, ride and gossip?) DEAD FISH EYES. Mmm-hmm… Oh wait, you hear that? MWAH. That’s the sound of me kissing my weight loss goal good-bye. Sigh. I know, I know.

But at least while I’m stuck on the bikes with all the little fat ladies, I have an excuse to indulge in one of my fave guilty pleasures- Maury. PAUSE. Don’t judge me. Ya’ll know I live for the drama and craziness that is trash talk TV (Besides, nothing says pedal faster than the fat asses that appear on that show).

And don’t act like you’re not just AMAZED at the ignorance these people are so willing to display for the cost of a paternity test. My fave from this morning? “That baby has blue eyes. I’m Puerto Rican. We don’t have blue eyes.” Um sir, the child’s mother is an Irish red head.

ROFL ROFL ROFL

Yo, where do these people come from? How do they still exist in 2010?

Honestly, not sure I’ll ever have an answer for any of those questions. But I can tell you one thing- I damn sure know where they’ll be shopping for clothes the next time they get knocked up by Rakim (or is it really his best friend Raheem’s baby?).

Mmm-hmm, thanks to Forever 21’s new maternity line, Love21 all the underage and barely legal moms-to-be can now cop stylish maternity clothes at bargain basement prices.

Isn’t this great? Aren’t you relieved that a company that fervently donates to the conservative right and takes the time to print the phrase John 3:16 on the bottom of their shopping bags is now making sure that teenage moms have access fly gear?

Nice.

I know I’ll sleep better at night.

paging ted & peggy bundy…

By on July 14, 2010 in desperate cry for help, love be a cellulite cream, made for the maury show

I’m convinced celebrity marriage and divorce are the new American Apparel leggings and off-the shoulder t-shirt.


No, seriously. What else could explain the latest tomfoolery that is Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston’s engagement announcement? Talking about they took Tripp for a walk and voila, they’re back in love. Um, didn’t I JUST see Levi clowning the shit out of the entire Palin pack on Kathy Griffin’s ‘My Life on the D-List’ two seconds ago???

DEAD FISH EYES

And let’s not even get started with Ochocinco’s dating show, The Ultimate Catch. Which for those who missed the hour and a half long premiere it’s basically the 2010 Flavor of Love with a better looking buffoon for these nickel and dime hookers to chase. Mmm-hmm, yeah I said it. The man is a wealthy B-U-F-F-O-O-N.

But regardless of what I think about Chad’s personality and proclivity for coonery, there is one thing that I will commend the Pro-Bowler for- he keeps it 100.
When it comes to dating, there are two things he’s never made any bones about:
1) he not attracted to Black women
2)he’s treats all women like expendable objects

Three days later and I’m still laughing my ass off at the memory of the shocked expression on the faces of all the pretty, young, excited Black girls in the original group of 85 contestants as he walked up and whispered ever ever so gently, “Sweetheart, you’re cut.” You know, like he really cared about their feelings and shit. And then, in the very next breath he green lights this plastic looking white woman who I swear to God/Jehovah/ Allah looks old enough to be his damn mother.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

I am so not mad at him. And I don’t think Black women should be either. Nope, not at all. Like my mom always reminded me, why share your toys with someone who doesn’t like you? Fuck that. You don’t want me, I don’t want you. No hard feelings, it is what it is. Onward.

Think of it like this: Now, those same pretty girls can take that all that fresh weave (that probably cost all of of their rent money for the next 2 months) to a club and find a fool who’ll appreciate their $55 metallic spandex pants.

why we can’t win…

By on June 7, 2010 in desperate cry for help, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

So I’m flipping through the NY Post and come across an article on former uptown drug lord extraordinaire Frank Lucas (dude portrayed by Denzel in American Gangster). Apparently, as if the film and documentary weren’t enough, some nice publisher has decided to pay good ole Frank to pen a tell-all about the rise and fall of his million dollar-a-day heroin empire.


*deep eye roll*

Now don’t get it twisted, I’m not mad at Mr. Lucas for finding a way to keep the gravy train rolling. Shoot, if they’re cutting checks just to regurgitate the same stories then by all means have at it. It’s just a small part of my conscious isn’t so sure how much we should continue glorifying his lifestyle considering we’re smack in the middle of a recession. Cause not for nothing, there are way too many desperate folks already out here trying to turn a dollar into 15 cents. Okay?

But I’m getting old, and my nerves are bad so perhaps that’s just me…

And to be fair, ultimately the NYP’s write-up does make it seem like Frank is very remorseful of the long term impact that the heroin boom had on folks in Harlem. You know in between, detailing all the negroes he punked, broads he smashed and dollars he tossed away cause he had it like that. But I digress… The important thing is that nowadays instead of slinging Blue Magic, Frank is producing music with his son, Frank Jr. while working on a non-profit for inner-city kids with his daughter, Francine.

*cues the shiny happy music*

Aww! Don’t you love a redemptive happy ending? Well almost…

Last month, Francine’s mom and Lucas’ “soul mate” and wife of more than 40 years, Julie Farriat, was busted on drug-trafficking charges in Puerto Rico.

DEAD FISH EYES

once a killer….

By on June 4, 2010 in desperate cry for help, it takes a village

Oh shoot, oh shoot, looks like its the end of the road for Joran van der Sloot! Homeboy done got caught in Chile and that ass is about to be deported right back to Peru.

Ironically, the entire time I was down in Aruba, everyone- locals and fellow visitors alike stayed talking about Natalee’s murder in hushed whispers. Five years later, People were still super freaked out by what happened. And seriously, there were so many different opinions on what really happened- sex trafficking, thrown off the cliff, accidental drowning and subsequently eaten by sharks…. the list was endless. But at the end of the day, there were two things we were able to agree upon:
1) Drunk teenagers + remote islands + wealthy psychopaths= epic FAIL

and

2) Not nary one of us wanted to be ‘Nataleed’ while getting our fun in the sun on.

DEAD FISH EYES.

Here’s hoping dude sits in a tiny Peruvian box for the rest of his life.

self-esteem on extra, extra low…

By on May 24, 2010 in desperate cry for help, it takes a village, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out, why we as a people can't get ahead

So err-um a yeah, about Venus’s outfit at the French Open… How can I put this nicely? No way, no ma’am, not even on a dare.


DEAD FISH EYES.

Although strategically, I can see how it worked to her advantage. Cause honestly, who in their right mind is not going to be completely thrown off when her tall lanky self pranced unto the court in some trashy.com super sale lingerie? And then the first time the wind blew and it seemed as if she was completely naked underneath? GAME OVER. If I was that poor girl, I’d need more than a minute to get my mind behind some mess like that.

And while I’m all for doing what you have to do to get the win, at the end of the day it still grossed me out. Aside from the fact that I absolutely hate black and red as a lingerie color combo, the entire outfit just looks inappropriate. You weren’t home playing a random game of pick-up in our pjs with your homegirl. This was one of the biggest tournaments of the season.

You can’t tell me that she’s not starting to resent how much of a media darling Serena has suddenly become now that she’s dating Common. And I get it. It’s gotta be miserable being the sibling that genetics fairies forgot to drop a lil booty on. So you decide to do something to get folks’ tongues wagging about you too. But still, this is nuts.

Um hello. Venus Williams you’re the #2 ranked tennis player in the world and THIS is what you wanna do? Uh-uh.

Survey says LAME.

historically correct, politically dead wrong…

By on May 24, 2010 in desperate cry for help, that sense of entitlement, work it white girl

Damn Fergie Ferg… SMH. I know times are hard on the royal boulevard since that Weight Watchers gig ran out in 2007 but seriously, you really have to do better. Trying to extort random folks that want to meet your ex-husband to the tune of £500k? Fail. You look so crazy right now… Talking about you’re an aristocrat. Way tacky, mama.


Although, truth be told, this type of underhanded behavior is how most aristocrats historically made money- through connections and familial influence as opposed to actual work. So perhaps you almost had it right. Almost.

*kanye shrug*

when you see me w the ugly dude…

By on May 6, 2010 in cuteness kills, desperate cry for help, pocket full of dirty tissue, work it white girl

About a week or so ago, the patron saint of skanky chicks Courtney Love announced on Letterman that back in the day she frequently boned Gwen Stephanie’s fine ass husband Gavin Rossendale. Not really newsworthy except for the implication that Gavin was definitely dating Gwen when these alleged liaisons popped off.


*gags violently*

But honestly, aside from this being a mental picture that most of us would’ve easily lived our entire lives without, its not THAT big of a deal… Dirty chicks get around.

DEAD FISH EYES

But what I do find interesting are C-Love’s more recent comments about the glorious life of her va-jay-jay. Apparently the in a interview for FUSE, the self-proclaimed sex goddess credits her prowess in between the sheet to her jacked up grill. READ: she’s good a good lay because she’s got a face her mamma doesn’t even love.

*crickets*

You know, I’ve often heard my male friends discussing the pros and cons of keeping an ugly chick on stash for this very reason. Back in the day, they called it the paper Bag Theory- its a better lay as long as you don’t look at the face. *don’t judge us*

But I have to say, I didn’t really believe most of them. I always figured women went hard when 1) she liked the person she was having sex with and 2) the dude made it worth the effort. And if they’re so called ‘pretty’ girlfriend was a lazy lay it was because she was, well…. you do the math.

But maybe I was wrong. What do you think? Are “ugly” chicks (and dudes) swinging from chandeliers to distract from their appearance? Cause if so…

*adds homely right below STD-free on the list of qualities I’m looking for in a summer jump-off*

I’m just saying.

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