I was in the grocery store last night picking up some odds and ends when I noticed that New York Magazine’s 2009 Weddings issue has a BLACK bride on the cover!!  Now you know… I almost crapped in my pants. 

Some time ago, I posted the poll question: Have you ever suspected that a friend’s boyfriend might like boys too?

And while a precious 44% claim to have never noticed, don’t you know 55% of you said unfortunately yes?!?!?! Good grief. How heartbreaking is that? And you know a percentage like that only begs the question, should you say something? Humph, lemme tell you something…

I think the most important rule to being a good friend is knowing when to speak and when to mind ya bidness. Yeah, and I meant it just the way you read it: 1-800-Mind Ya Damn Bidness!

Serious bodily harm or cold, hard, I-caught-that-fa la la ing-fool-on-my-camera-phone withstanding, my personal motto is: If you like it, I love it. If you love it, I adore it. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart, I don’t care how tight we are I’m so not the one to get involved… Why?

Certainly not because I don’t care about you. Because I honestly do. I love all of the women in my select circle of friends. And more than anything, I want each and everyone to win. In fact, I want everyone I know to get exactly what they want in life. Now if that includes a good for nothing partner who’s embarassing the shit outta you- so be it.

Listen- If you wanna front like you don’t know he’s playing a role every time he opens his glossy lips, me either. If you wanna pretend that you don’t see him rolling his neck and sucking his teeth harder then our whole crew, I’m the black Helen Keller. If you wanna act like you don’t understand that those couple of years he spent upstate figuring out what he wanted out of life was really inside of a prison getting bent over by Big Bob, I’ll turn off the reruns of Oz when you guys come over. If you choose to ignore the extra hard “url” everytime he says, ‘Guuuurrrl please.’ So be it. I keep earplugs in my purse at all times anyway.

Cause when the shit hits the fan, ain’t nobody blaming Mitzi for breaking up their happy home. Believe that.

On the forreal, forreal, undearneath all the sarcasm and side-eye, I’m a total romantic at heart. Like, I want to be wined, dined, swept off my feet, fall head-over-heels in love and spend the rest of my life acting a fool over how good my man is to me.

So I was on the train yesterday, reading the morning newspaper over this man’s shoulder (yes, I am that girl, dammit) when I noticed that the first pictures of Rihanna post beatdown had surfaced. In the shots, she’s somewhere way warmer than New York wearing this fabulous gold cut out one piece bathing suit but looking hella sad. Once I stopped obsessing over how long I’d have to live off of crackers and soda water to fit into that thing without scaring the kids, I started thinking about the matching tattoos that she and Chris had gotten over the course of their relationship. Weren’t there like 2 or 3? Umm-hmmm… So basically, every time she looks in the mirror, she’ll think about the dude that whelped up her big ass forehead the night before the Grammys? Lord.

A friend of mine from high school is pregnant with triplets. Yes, you read that correctly- TRIPLETS. As in 3 growing babies inside of 1 (what used to be very small) body. Jesus. Just looking at the ultrasound photo made my uterus hurt. I’m not even kidding you. But wait on it… what’s really really nerve wracking is tht they already have a daughter who’s not even 2 years old. I know it’s Friday so let me help you do the math-that’s FOUR kids under the age of THREE in ONE house? I can’t even imagine the amount of screaming and crying and dirty diapers… uh-uh. Ain’t no way in the world. As far as I’m concerned this girl is a freaking SAINT… And Jesus be a dead battery in the baby monitor.

To be quite honest, like 68% I can easily forsee initiating a vasectomy conversation with my husband/ the father of my kids. Cause once we’ve reached maximum capacity, haven’t I earned the right to enjoy unprotected sex at some point in my life?Not to mention, nobody likes those kind of surprises. No thank you.

As for the 31% of you who don’t think you can fix your faces to say anything, I’ll check back with you after an unplanned child or two or three. Mmm-hmmm, you know what my old college health professer used to say… It’s all fun and games till the bunny dies.

Cause forreal, forreal, what are you gonna do, get back on the pill? Use condoms for the rest of your life? I guess get your tubes tied, huh? No offense but don’t you think, it seems a little unfair to carry the total birth control burden in a marriage? I mean, this is more than your jump-off or someone you’ve been dating for a while, right? And after being pregnant for 9 whole months and actually giving birth, why in the Lord’s good name should we be the one to get our tubes tied? Boo.

I say, its time for men to step up and take one for the team. Let’s just consider vasectomies the new push tax. And no worries guys, we’ll be happy to help you ice it down the morning after.

So it turns out that 78% of you guys are more than willing to take a class to improve your oral sex skills. Yay way to show enthusiasm ladies!! I say, more efficient and better blowjob techniques for everyone! But on the forreeal, forreal, I sincerely hope that some of these positive responses came from the men as well (surprise, surprise boys have mitzimoments too). Because lord knows, over the years I’ve certainly come across more than my fair share of negroes that weren’t hitting on nada in the oral department. And that right there is the WORST- all that pulling and tugging and slopping and acting crazy, when the reality is you’re just staring at the ceiling wishing it would be the hell over before he tears something important… Mm-hmm, matter of fact, make that the ABSOLUTE WORST.

Yo, what is it with the parental co-sign on the person you’re dating? I don’t care what anyone says, there’s nothing more gratifying than when your mom actually LIKES the person you’re sleeping with.

Why is it that as I get older, dating seems to get more and more complicated? Shouldn’t this process have started to figure itself out by now? You know, kinda like making that perfect sunny side up egg…

Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the old saying: Beauty is only skin deep. Howsomever, while we’re on the surface there are a list things that I’m just not equipped to deal with… Severe acne as well as a noticeable unibrow are definitely amongst the number. But for the sake of a good arguement, if I had to choose one, I’m going with the unibrow all day every day.

Why? Simple. I’m willing to gamble that like the 71%, I will eventually (read: long, long time from now) grow accustomed to the extra facial hair. Mind you, growing accustomed is a far cry from LOVING but at some point, I would hope, I’d be able to train myself not to oogle at my partner’s never ending eyebrow. You know, the same way I trained myself not gag when I see pink toes kissing their dogs on the mouth. Feel free to gag.

Now the severe back acne? Not so much. I can barely stand the pimples on my own face and I only see that when I’m facing a mirror.

And in all fairness, perhaps the 28% who opted for severe back acne are just more concerned with public perception than I- afterall, there’s really no way to escape your crew’s clowning (and you know they will) when the mess is smack dab on the middle of the face. And thanks to Facebook, it ain’t just your peeps that’ll be leaving comments about you and your ‘interesting’ looking boo…

Yet and still, I’ll still take my chances with the peanut gallery. Cause I know me, and I have a serious issue with picking. Mmm-hmm, I ain’t never seen a pimple I ain’t wanna pop. Lord knows, if I see a whole bunch of blackheads on my man’s back what will happen. It might get real primative… And even if I’m able to control my urge to dig all up in his skin, there’s always the first time I run my hand along his back and it inadvertantly bust a bump. Oh. God. Ooze stains on my 600 thread count sheets?? EEEWWA, it’s a wrap. Like forreal, forreal.

Love you more than cooked food but you gots to get the hell out not now, but RIGHT NOW.

Ummmm, hello kind people. Question: did you vote in the latest poll on the site? Umm-hmm, just what I thought. You do know I change it twice a week, don’t you? Okay then, so go on and make the mitzimoments magic happen. Like now.

Don’t be lazy (yes Angela, I’m talking to you). Click through to the blog and let your opinion be heard. Forreal, forreal I’m dying to find out what you think about the crazy questions! Yes, I am that nosey.

Perfect example: I’ll bet you wouldn’t have guess that 80% of you have willingly done something sexually you regretted afterwards. Mmm-hmmm, that many!

Luckily, between growing up in the full on ‘No Means No’ / ‘You Give Me The Uh-Oh Feeling’ era and my very clinically correct mother, I have always been very comfortable with my sexuality. So like the 20% who answered no, I’ve never had a problem saying no to anything that might make my nerves bad in the morning. Peer or partner pressure be damned.

But hey, you learn something new every day. And I’m so sure the bunch of ya’ll won’t ever, never be doing whatever that was again, right? So there. Fresh start. And look, just in time for the next poll…