Category: keep hope alive

Now that the weather is attempting to warm up and we’re in the final stretch of whatever damage control folks will actually accomplish before open-toe season begins, it’s time to deal with the least appealing aspect of the change of season: the new bikini dilemma.

Uuuggh, can I tell you? I ABHORE (yes, breaking out the big GRE words folks) shopping for new bathing suits. Like, seriously? I can by new tanks tops, sundresses and sandals all day every day, but say the word two-piece and I literally wanna throw-up in my mouth. And it doesn’t matter how much I physically or mentally prepare, trying to find a swimsuit that can simultaneously hide all the lumps and bumps yet still qualify as sexy is like water torture.

Honestly, I think the root of problem is that every year, my overall body shape changes- sometimes for the better, most times not. Therefore, the hella cute string bikini style that might’ve been the answer last season, looks nothing but cra-razy this time around. And please, don’t even get me started on those damn boy short bottoms that cut dead in the middle of the saddle bag? No maam, nobody needs that AT ALL.

And call me cheap but the thought of spending damn near a $150 of bullshit sized piece of material that’s only going to hightlight the areas of my body that I’m most insecure about is beyond painful.

So if you see me walking out of Bloomies looking dazed and confused ike I someone just kicked me in the neck, you know what the deal is. There’s nothing to say, just pray.

I really, really meant to wake up at 6 am this morning, go to bikram, return home and post something profound from a place of spiritual enlightenment and THEN go to my taping for the Food Network.  But alas, the road to hell is built on good intentions.  And now there are exactly 40 minutes left till I have to walk out the door, I ain’t dressed, the hair looks crazy, the dog ain’t walked and I’ve got absolutely nothing enlightening to share. Sigh.

Light a candle, I already see what kinda day this is gonna be. Feel free to follow me on twitter to find out for yourself…

Oh weee! You know the recession is real when the rich folks start to get nervous. Mmm-hmmm…

Ain’t nothing more telling than billionaire investor Warren Buffet on CNBC talkin’ bout, “the economy fell off a cliff.” Oh yeah? And this is new to you? Wow, must be nice to be so insulated…

But the good news is my people, we are built for this. Yes sir.

Because unlike the pinktoes who are just now trying to figure out the value of a discount and what it means to cut corners, me nd my mine been nigga-rigging the hook-up for years. And everbody and they mama knows how to make a dollar outta fifteen cents. Word up.

1-800-Stay Focused!

Yo, has it really been TWELVE Years since Biggie was murdered??? My God, that’s so crazy to me…

Okay seriously? I LOVE me some Notorious B.I.G. I mean to say, I memorized the lyrics to every single song and interlude on Ready To Die in two freaking days. Mind you, I couldn’t remember formula the first to save my ass from getting a C- in the freshman Chem class that made difference between me going to med school and becoming an English major but Gimme The Loot? Machine Gun Funk? Juicy??? Man listen… I’m not even going to discuss Life After Death cause I might start to tear up. I just makes no sense.

And nowadays we sit here and listen to wack ass rappers like Soulja Boy go double platinum. Good grief.

Um hi. I’m looking for my waistline, have you seen it? It disappeared sometime shortly after August and hasn’t been shown any kind of definition since.

I’m beginning to worry because according to the all the damn catalogs and invitations that keep flooding my mailbox, bikini/ wedding season is around the corner. And considering I don’t have a baby to blame there’s really no excuse for the bulge that insists on making its prescence known over the top of my jeans. Not at all.

So seriously, if you live uptown and belong to NYSC, please holla at the kid. Cause I’m in desperate need of a focused workout buddy to help with the search.

Is it bad that I feel more relieved than not to be single this Valentine’s Day? ‘Cause it’s true. Call me cheap but I don’t wanna spend money on anyone besides myself right about now- especially since there’s this pair of hot pink mirrored Louboutins that I’ve been eyeballing like our country is not in a freaking recession and they don’t cost more than a month’s rent. Sigh.

But if I was caught up in this year’s Hallmark holiday craziness, you know what I would be asking for, right?? Some freaking private cooking classes! Mmm-hmmm, you read that right. All Mitzi wants for V-Day is for somebody else to pay for me to turn how to really, really burn in the kitchen.

Don’t get it twisted, push come to shove I can handle the must-haves: a juicy steak, succulent salmon, banging fried chicken, etc. But in addition to pleasing the hell out of my own greedy self, I wanna learn how to make that ignorant restaurant level type meal to impress the boys. ‘Cause we all know, being able to cook damn near triples your worth on the relationship market.
So if you actually have a loved one or simply love yourself, let me recommend a gift that will keep on giving- private cooking lessons w the Yum Yum Chefs http://www.yumyumchefs.com/. These folks are the TRUTH. They’re young, fun and will help you turn it out for under $100 per person, just give them a call. Oh and did I mention they also make these AMAZING cupcakes? Sigh, we LOVE.

Just don’t forget to invite me over for dinner afterwards…

So lemme tell you what had happened…

In true impulsive Mitzi fashion, in the middle of the night, I up and ordered a brown file cabinet from Staples. I mean it wasn’t really, really all that impulsive since I’ve allegedly been redecorating since October. However, I describe it as impulsive because genius that I am, I didn’t bother to check the measurements. I was just so relieved to 1) find a brown file cabinet (who knew how hard that color was to locate?) and 2) find it while Staples had a free next day shipping promotion going on, that I figured what the hell? I mean how big could one 2-drawer file cabinet be, right? Right.

Needless to say, the file cabinet arrives a day later and this mo-fu is huge. Huge like it takes up a complete third of my living room. And to make matters worse, its heavy as I don’t know what. There’s absolutely no way in hell I can just pick it up and take it back to Staples myself. At least not without giving myself a freaking hernia. So you know I’m super stressed out…

In this moment it dawns on me what the absolute worst part of being single is… No, it’s not the long nights the week before your period, the lack of companionship during all those annoying couple events or even the crazy dating games we all too often find ourselves caught up in. Yo, forreal, forreal, its the maintenance. Straight up. It’s the not having someone to put shit make back together when the little things make me wanna fall apart. From figuring out how to change a lightbulb in the vaulted ceiling to taking out the freaking trash to changing a flat tire on the side of the highway in the middle of the night and yes, getting this big ole stupid bix outta my damn house- I really miss the extra set of capable hands.

I’m telling you, when I finally land a boy worth mentioning, I’m always going to loan him out to all of my friends like books from the library. No questions asked. Cause that there feeling of helplessness is for the birds.

Okay for all my Gossip Girl obsessed friends, did everybody see that navy brocade skirt that Blair was wearing for the majority of the show last night? HOT. Well turns out that it’s actually a piece from this really exclusive French line called BGN of which my BGB (bestest gay boyfriend) since our more scandalous days at FAMU, Geoffrey Payton happens to be the North American Sales Director. Mmm-hmmm…

So you know as soon as I found that out I had to put a call in to try and work something out (cause that’s what we folks do). And it turns out that the new spring line is here and popping! Unfortunately, its waaaay out of the kid’s budget at the moment, but please feel free to check it out. At least you’ll be able to spot the pieces the next time you see them on the pages of US Weekly and whatnot. http://www.bgn.fr/

Oh and don’t say I ain’t never put you up on nothing!

I hear you on the mixed race, but if you ask me, Obama ain’t nothing but Black.

When questioned about the noticeably more relaxed dress code in staff meetings (apparently there is a whole brew ha-ha about the President being photographed dong official work sans suit jacket), his chief-of-staff insists they’re not being intentionally lax but apparently the temperature in Oval Office is hot enough to “grow orchids in there.” Talking about, “He likes it warm.”
Now Barack, you know, them folks in the White House don’t know nothing ’bout that heat! All I can say is, Jesus be the heating bill after the first month of the new administration.
But it gets better… Turns our the Obamas running about five minutes late for all the events on the Inauguration Day was jsut a warm-up. Apparently, President Obama now shows up at the Oval Office shortly before 9 in the morning. For those who don’t understand what the big deal is.. that’d be almost two hours later than Dub-ya. Um-hmm, Barack better be readjusting the start of the workday…
But don’t let the haters get it twisted, the man also works well into the night- with aides reporting that he stays as late as 10p to review briefs for the next day unlike his early-to-bed, early-to-rise predecessor. So take that…
Not for nothing, we really, really love that the reason his day starts so much later is because he takes the time to have his morning workout — weights and cardio — read the papers, eat breakfast with his family and help pack his daughters, Malia, 10, and Sasha, 7, off to school before making the 30-second commute downstairs.
And what they’re not printing (but we all know) is that he’s also probably tryin’ to get some from Michelle right quick too…. Okay?

I woke up this morning feeling kinda out of sorts. Prob had a lot to do with the fact that I didn’t manage to fall asleep (alone, unfortunately) until almost 3am. So instead of jumping headfirst into the day, I decided to read the latest issue of EW (with Heath Ledger on the cover) that I snagged out of my mailbox upon my return from DC.

Now I gotta tell you. I’m not really the one to obsess over white men. Like, I can tell if he’s good looking or not (I’ve got eyes in my head, don’t I?), but beyond that… eh, not so much. Pinktoe juice just doesn’t get my heart rate pumping like a good old fashion cup of hot chocolate- ya feel me?

But Heath Ledger? Now that whiteboy right there was DOPE.
I can remember peeping him out ever since 10 Things I Hate About You. And who can forget how adorable he was in A Knight’s Tale? Even when he was creating a new term for being closeted (as in, ‘Girl you know that negro is straight Brokeback!’), don’t act like you couldn’t understand why old girl really, really wanted to pretend like she didn’t understand what those “camping trips” were about.
And the bestest part? Heath’s looks didn’t even begin to top his acting ability. He was truly one of the most talented young actors in Hollywood. From beginning to end, he would work a character OUT. Lords of Dogtown? The Dark Knight? Need I say more?
It’s still so heartbreaking to me that he died before even turning 30. Crazy.

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