Mitzi Moments

Category: it’s not a game out there

who the electric chair is made for…

By on May 13, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it's not a game out there, pocket full of dirty tissue, tapped out, too old for the road

I’m almost embarrassed to admit it but the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have gone on so long, I’m almost completely numb to the continual horror stories on the evening news.  Which is probably why I didn’t pay attention to any of the details in the most recent tragedy at a clinic in Camp Liberty in Baghdad when five soldiers were murdered… Honestly, I simply assumed that it was another terrorist’s bombing. But this morning, I learned that it was actually an American soldier that killed his fellow soldiers. SMH.

But wait on it…  Folks sensed that this guy was a loose cannon. Mmm-hmm… Not only was he on his THIRD tour of duty (which already tells you something) but apparently, Sgt. John M. Russell had just been ordered to turn in his gun and undergo counseling by his commanding officer because of erratic stress-related behavior.  
So essentially, while he was at said mandatory counseling appointment, he lost his shit, wrestled the gun away from his escort (yeah, homeboy required an armed escort to the clinic) and shot the hell outta every damn body in the place. Sigh.
Oh and the main reason he was so stressed out?  According to his father, “he had fallen in debt paying his $1,500-a-month mortgage… and he thought they were trying to push him out of the service.” 

Seriously? You’re gonna kill five innocent people who are just minding their business because of a mortgage payment that costs less than most people’s rent in NYC?  No sir, there’s got to be a better way…
Uncle Sam please come get your psycho nephew.

my bed is mad at me…

By on May 11, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it's not a game out there, miracle on 169th street, using our powers for good

Since the summer is (eventually) coming, I’ve decided to try and start my workdays a little earlier… as in four hours earlier.  Um yeah, you read that right.  The “I don’t use an alarm clock” queen is about to get it popping at 6am in the morning.  Feel free to stop laughing any time now… Cause I’m so forreal.  I see my friends with kids do it all the time, so I figure what the hell?  
This way I can actually go to bikram regularly (instead of just giving them my $115 a month), walk poor Drama before 3 o’clock in the afternoon (any day now she’s gonna call the ASPCA on my ass) and most importantly, spend more time trolling the headlines for news that makes you go hmm… Like the review of Tuesday night’s season premiere of the Real Housewives of New Jersey.  Which apparently left the reviewer from the NY Daily News thinking, “Good Lord, what a piece of trash. That was great!” Err-umm yeah, I will so be watching. Or better yet, how Rihanna’s people are cracking down on blogs that posted the alleged naked photos of her. But wait on it… not denying that the photos are of her.  Insert huge sigh.  
Of course, I am going to need your prayers in this endeavor because I don’t even know what six o’clock in the morning looks like let alone to be getting up and trying to function.  So light a candle,  yours truly is about to get focused.

i’ll bet she killed JR…

By on May 5, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it's in the genes, it's not a game out there, pocket full of dirty tissue, stressed the hell out, too old for the road, work it white girl

In yet addition of ‘White Women Are SO NOT Handling the Recession Well’- Whatchu know about old school Dallas star, Victoria Principal a.k.a Bobby’s wife Pam Ewing pulling a damn gun on her maid because wait on it… Maribel was taking too long to walk the dog!!

What in the crazy ass-demanding-impatient-pinktoe hell??

It seems the poor domestic engineer took the spoiled Shih-Tzu out for a walk and that little bad ass just wouldn’t drop her load. By the time the two finally returned to the ranch, ole girl was wildin’ out. On sight, Victoria pulled a gun out and ordered Maribel to get the hell off the damn property ‘fore she pumped that ass full of lead. (Okay, maybe she say it exactly like that, but you get the idea).

Humph, humph, humph, I tell ya… Jesus be the melanin that provides coping skills.

Mind you, Pam is currently training to become a civilian astronaut on Richard Branson’s commercial space flight venture, Virgin Galactic. Just so we’re all clear- this woman can’t handle the everyday pressure of her maid taking five minutes too long with the pooch but she wants to head out into space??
I swear ‘fore God I couldn’t make this mess up if I wanted to!!

exhibit a…

By on April 30, 2009 in i die, it's not a game out there, keep hope alive, Mitzi- all day every day, tagging out, why we as a people can't get ahead

See now, I wasn’t even going to say anything about this swine flu madness.  ‘Cause as far as I’m concerned there’s some new fangled Killer African Bee, SARS, Cow-Foot-Head disease popping up on CNN just about every six months or so… 

And between you and me, I think that if certain folks would learn how to cover their mouths and use a little hand disinfectant, half of these problems would be solved. But that’s just my humble opinion.
But THEN I read this article in the NYTimes that set off my spidey senses. It basically details how experts are now trying to blame the whole health crisis on this poor little 5 year-old Mexican boy.  Talking bout, “The government has identified Édgar Hernadez as the first person in Mexico to have become infected with a virulent strain of the swine flu.” Seriously? 

Not for nothing, but doesn’t this sound very much like the whole- AIDS started in Africa from people who were having sex with monkeys hypothesis? Yeah, thought so.  $50 bucks says the Mexican government just needed someone to throw under the bus to keep the World Health Organization off their backs. So naturally, they choose the lowest common denominator- a poor, illiterate family and their kid. So. Not. Cool.
You look at the picture and do the math. Err-um, keep it real. We ALL know where this pandemic really, really started… 

the height of stupidity….

By on April 28, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it's not a game out there, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, tapped out, too old for the road

See…. cuteness is a tool of the devil.

I KNEW I should’ve stayed my vain self at home on Sunday night, enjoyed the unseasonable warm weather and minded my bid-ness.  But NO.  There I go, worrying about this godforsaken bridesmaid dress that I have to squeeze my ass into in exactly 23 days… and I decide to drag my butt to a 6.30p bikram class.
Well wait on it… don’t you know some worthless ass heifer STOLE my damn flip-flops from the friggin’ studio??
Uh-huh, you read that right: Just like hilarious episode of Sex And The City, where Carrie grudgingly goes to the baby shower and her gorgeous pair of silver Manolo Blahniks get ganked, my BRAND NEW black flip-flops were G-O-N-E. 
(Insert image of me doing the most not to lose my shit on all the hippy ass pink toes standing around at the moment of discovery talking about, ‘are you sure you wore them here?  Did you look carefully? Oh, I’m sure it was just an innocent mistake.’)
Innocent mistake my ass!  I even waited until every last person had come to retrieve their shoes- just to see what was left (and quietly, still hoping the person might return with my shoes) Well, guess what? There wasn’t ONE pair of shoes left. NOTHING. NADA. Translation: that dirty mo-fo took theirs AND mine. 
OMG, who does that?  Sure its a recession, times are hard but MY GOD. Who steals flip-flops in 2009??
But Jesus be a neurotic black woman and her shower shoes… because despite all the side-eye that I catch for wearing flip-flops in the communal shower stall(apparently, they encourage folks to go barefoot to reduce the amount of outside dirt), at least my ass had something to wear go home.
Otherwise, picture me stepping out onto 145th Street barefoot!!!  Shiiiiitttt! No maam, not even on a damn dare…

I need to give my mom a hug…

By on April 8, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it's in the genes, it's not a game out there, tagging out, work it white girl

Okay so just when I thought it was going to be a quiet day in the headlines, I peeped this article about a deranged FL mother shooting her own kid to death because wait on it… the looney toon honestly believed she was Satan. And that by murdering her child, she was ‘saving his soul.’ Um yeah, write that down.

Apparently, 44 year-old Marie Moore took her 20 year-old son to a shooting range, waited for him to get settled in the practice range booth and then proceeded to blow the back of  his head off. 
Check out the above photo that was captured on the security camera… Just. Like. That.
Now here’s my main problem with this madness-cause there are just so many things wrong- this chick had a history of schizophrenia. And apparently, she had tried to kill herself in the shooting range before. Why in the slack-ass-FL-state-gun-law-hell was this nutjob allowed back up in the spot???
I swear, it’s like nowadays they got tighter security in a damn mall department store than a shooting range. Sigh. 
Jesus please ring the bell, we need to stage an immediate do-over on that one right there.

there are no words…

By on March 4, 2009 in going to hell in a handbasket, it's not a game out there, tapped out

Hmmm… so do you remember when that videotape of a 2 year-old girl being raped by a grown ass 34 year-old man mysteriously popped up in the Vegas desert about two years ago ? It was around the time all those little girls were being kidnapped and murdered across the country… and there was the intense nationwide manhunt for the dirty looking white dude with greasy hair and those nasty looking striped bed sheets?

Then when the authorities finally located the all the parties involved it was real nightmare operation- something like at the time, the girl’s mom was broke and homeless. So they were crashing at some random girlfriend’s crib for a couple of weeks. The guy, Chester Arthur Stiles was the friend’s trifling live-in boyfriend and he raped the baby while the mom and the friend were out kicking it. Or something real ‘Gone Baby Gone/ trailer-trashy mess like that…

Anyhoo, don’t ask me why I taught this sicko was already locked up under a jail but apparently he was just sentenced yesterday afternoon. Mmm-hmm, dude is looking at 22 felonies that carry multiple life prison terms in addition to an upcoming federal trial for producing child pornography that when he’s found guilty will carry a sentence of 15 to 30 years. Good luck.

You know, if they’re not gonna send Chester the Molester back to God for a do-over (’cause some folks really do need their interventions directly from the Big Homie) then I really hope they release his ass in to general population. NO, not because I want to see him tortured (although that is definitely a bonus) but rather because this is NOT where I want to see my tax dollars at work. I don’t want this scumbag to have a private cell, separate meals, take a shower at a different time, scratch his balls, not one damn thing different from all the rest of the folks I’m already supporting.

like chewing foil….

By on March 3, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it's not a game out there, why we as a people can't get ahead

Soooooo, did ANYONE enjoy the premiere of Harlem Heights last night? Anyone, anyone, anyone? No seriously. Cause I swear ‘fore God, that was nothing short of a complete waste of 52 minutes in my life. And the fact that I stayed up well past the 9.30p bootcamp bedtime makes it just THAT much more upsetting…

Granted, I am VERY proud of my fellow FAMU alum Randolph Stiurrup, who co-created and executive produced the project. I know it was a very long road and I certainly hope to see many additional projects from my fellow Rattler. But let’s keep it all the way real…

Was that not the slowest paced reality show like EVER? The whole thing felt like water torture. I mean, exactly how these kids are supossed to be part of the same crew when they clearly don’t know and/ or hate each other??? Cause there’s stretching the truth and then there’s straight up lying. And the birthday party with 15 people in Covo’s big empty room. I can’t…

Not for nothing, each time Landon swirled his little neck around all I could think was, ‘is this fool high? Or gay? Or both?’ Mmm-hmm. Note to the big chick from down south who fell out when Obama won… will you please settle down and stop being the bull in a china shop? You ain’t scurred of nobody- we get it. Next. Pierre and Christian as Harlem’s sexy ‘it’ boys? Yawn. Oh and good Jesus, if BET doesn’t hire better writers for back-stabbing ass Bridget’s voiceovers I gonna have to duct tape her mouth closed.

Honestly, the only characters worth watching are: 1)corner boy turned wanna-be community activist Jason (that is as long as his mouth was closed…. As soon as he speaks my nerves get bad. I want you to conjugate some verbs every once in a while, okay honey?) and 2) desperately clinging to my 15 minutes of fame Brook (esp the scene where she was trying on clothes in the N Boutique. How you gonna be the shit talking flychick while you’re wearing the blatantly mismatched drawers??)

Although I did love the janky KFC ad. Why? Cause that pretty much summed the entire show up- straight tomfoolery.

too much time and money…

By on March 2, 2009 in i die, it's not a game out there, the internet is the devil

Err-um, can someone please explain to me WHY a bra for men has become the hottest selling men’s underwear item on a new Japanese lingerie e-commerce site?

No forreal, forreal. I mean, those of us who have had the pleasure of visiting Japan or shoot, even strolling around Soho on a sunny Sat will agree that young Japanese women and men tend to be a little more… How shall I put it? Um, fashion forward in their clothing combo choices than most? But this right here is taking it to the limit.

Puh-lease watch this Reuters video report. How crazy does this man sound, talking about he likes the tightness and the feel? Lord…

Jesus ring the bell, I’m tagging out.

ain’t nothing wrong w an encyclopedia…

By on February 19, 2009 in going to hell in a handbasket, it's not a game out there, tagging out

So we’ve all heard about these shady college recruiters trolling social networking with the sole intention of catching kids in incriminating pictures and subsequently ruining their entire lives, right? You know the trajectory: a promising, all American, straight-A student whose done everything the right way her entire life doesn’t get accepted at the school of her choice because of a random topless photo she took with the Mexican pool boy during Spring Break in Cancun. Instead she is forced to stay home, attend a community college and wait tables for book money. Fast forward 5 years and she’s now the town drunk who’s always hanging out at the local bar talking about how she was voted Prom Queen? Straight tragedy.

But what you know about the Facebook Sabatoge?

Wait on it… that’s a new trend where cutthroat teens are now SENDING college recruiters the links to incriminating Facebook photos of their fellow peers just cut down on the competition! Take that, take that!

Mmm-hmm, you know what I think? Hell hath no fury like a stressed out, overachieving teenager trying to get into their first choice school! I thank my lucky stars every damn day that there was no such thing as cell phones, social networking or even an internet when I was in high school. Forreal, forreal.

Cause seriously? As far as I’m concerned, if the grades and extra-curricular are correct, the rest shouldn’t even matter. Damn the series of keg parties you and your friends organize in the school parking on Saturday nights. As long as you can sober up, put on a suit, and talk a good game when that snooty recruiter came for the home visit on Sunday evening, you deserve to go to college. This is America goddammit.

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