Mitzi Moments

Category: made for the maury show

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.

yo, where are his clothes…

By on July 20, 2010 in end of days, i die, it's in the genes, made for the maury show, tapped out, why we as a people can't get ahead

Oh. My. GOD. This video is so many things, and every last one a damn shame.

Real talk? Can’t nobody tell me that YouTube wasn’t created by the devil explicitly to drive people to commit social suicide. The. End.

“Can I be the one that hold you dooooown? Can I be the one that hold you doooown? “

Err-um 50 Tyson, wherever your mumble mouth ass is “uptown in Minnesota,” puh-lease stop the madness. Not now but RIGHT now. Sounding like a cross between an severely injured basset hound and a freshly paroled rapist on the prowl… Dude, neither this nor any of the SEVENTEEN other videos you got posted are the business.

Oh and just so you know, I blame the ENTIRE Republican party for this shit right here.

Mmm-hmm… Had they voted to extend jobless aid, this fool could’ve paid somebody to give him a shirt and clue. But no. Instead of looking for a job that requires the intelligence of a 1st grader, this neanderthal is spending his days trolling through the woods, looking like a mentally challenged serial killer, screeching made-up songs and threatening radio station djs.

(And all foolishness aside, this is the kind of illiterate nonsense that those crazy ass TeaBaggers play at their recruitment rallies to get hype. SMH. We have got to do better folks.)

*drops to my knees and prays*

tell the truth, shame da devil…

By on July 15, 2010 in made for the maury show, Mitzi- all day every day, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

Hold up one goddamn minute! Why’d I just hear on the radio that K-Ci and Jo-Jo have a new album AND a reality show coming soon? BLANK STARE. You know what… the Devil is a liar and I will not succumb. Nope, no ma’am I will not. I rebuke this tomfoolery in the name of Dalvin, Devonte and an old school Mary J ass whooping.


*backflips into a bedazzled Walmart casket*

I’m so sorry, but dem two crackheads have been nothing but two strong hits out of a grave for the longest. Exhibit A: the above video clip where Jo-Jo falls the hell out mid-performance and K-Ci kindly steps over that big ass as he continues to wail, OOOOOOOO YEAH!!!

Uh, huh. And you know why? Cause he sees that nigga black out e’ryday and what?

So no. I CANNOT imagine what kind of “hot” new material they could call themselves putting out…. Unless it’s an instrumental album accompanied by sounds of an inhale, choke and cough.

DEAD FISH EYES

SMH. Forget about that Dru Hill nonsense that Keith Sweat is trying to peddle. This right here is about to be a damn shame of Whitney & Bobby epic proportions…

*immediately jots down reminder note to be on the look out for commercials*

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.

the year of the downgrade continues…

By on July 12, 2010 in love be a cellulite cream, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, that sense of entitlement

And to think, I was worried that missing out on all of last week’s Oscar Grant and LeBron James craziness was going to leave me with nothing to discuss this morning.


*mails a thank you card to Terius Nash*

Sigh. Oh The Dream… Getting caught on the romantic rendezvous in the Caribbean with your slutty personal assistant? Really? Does it get more cliche than that?

I must say the images of Terius in his beachwear glory: extra snug pink-n-white striped board shorts, jiggly man-boobs and Buddha gut with the dark permanent side crease frolicking in the ocean with the equally sloppy body trick (how are you’re supposed to be the sexy sidepiece w the loosey goosey tummy & unflattering flattering 2-piece, ma?) for the all of the paparazzi to photograph sickens me to my soul.

But I guess we shouldn’t be that surprised that the Umpa Luma is this sloppy. His comments about Christina and their home life since she got pregnant have been nothing short of blatantly disrespectful. And that’s to say nothing of the ignorant first single from the crappy ass album that he released last week, “Make Up Bag.” Talking about, “If you ever make your girlfriend mad. Don’t let your good girl bad. Drop five stacks on the make up bag.”

Simple ass negro.

Granted, I’ve always thought Christina Emillian was kind of typical. You know what I mean: cute, marginally talented with some very obvious signs of gold digger tendencies when it comes to the men she chooses to date. *shrug* But still… ain’t no lifestyle worth this type of humiliation. At the end of the day, homeboy put the ring on it. Knocked-up or not, the two could’ve just co-parented if he didn’t intend to TRY to be monogamous.

Maybe LaLa and Melo were onto something by waiting five years to actually get married….

its all so clear now….

By on June 29, 2010 in end of days, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

So in case you weren’t keeping score: the devastation in Haiti remains unabated, the oil spill continues to gush in to the Gulf waters, Nikki Minaj won 3 BET awards without being able to spit a rhyme in front of the live audience and now we’ve got Russian spies (that “looked like regular Hispanics” to their brilliant neighbors) living in Montclair, NJ


Blank Stare.

With all of these going ons, it only makes perfect sense that one of the police officers that participated in the unwarranted shooting of Sean Bell is now counter-suing his family. Mm-hmm, of course it does.

Now, if you’ll excuse me while go cop Ron Artest’s new album. Because the way things are headed, I fully expect him to nominated at next year’s Grammy Award Show.

*slowly sips the kool-aid*

this aint a movie dawg…

By on June 11, 2010 in end of days, i die, made for the maury show, why we as a people can't get ahead

Have I got a story for you…


So apparently my homegirl MB went out with some friend of hers that she hadn’t seen in a minute on Wednesday night. Naturally, the night went long and the number of drinks prob added up. No judgement. At the end of the wonderful evening the two young ladies went their individual ways. Everyone got home safely.

Now, the next morning MB’s homegirl wakes up a little hazy on whether she closed her car door BUT she distinctly recalls clicking the alarm. You know how the oddest details will stick in your mind the morning after a good time but you can’t remember major stuff? Like you won’t have the faintest idea what the name the person you were making out all night with but you’ll remember they had on a really nice watch? Exaactly.

Much to MB’s friend’s relief her SUV is in the same place she left it the night before. Praise god for the little things, right?

Anyhoo, she gets in her car. And almost immediately, she notices a distinctly sour odor. Like any normal person, she starts looking around the passenger side floor to see if she spilled any food the night before. Nope. Nothing. So she’s like okay well, maybe I just need some ventilation in here. She starts the car and opens all the window. Running a little late at this point, she makes mental note to hit the car was, gets herself together and begins to back the car out of the parking spot. Homegirl looks up in the rear view mirror…
AND SEES A FREAKING HOMELESS MAN DEAD ASLEEP IN THE BACKSEAT OF HER TRUCK.

*throws up in mouth while simultaneously dying of fright*

Mind you, this negro wasn’t sorta sleep. His ass had figured out how to lay the 2nd row of seats down so he could be SPRAWLED the hell out across the back of her car!!!

Can you f’kin’ imagine?? Honestly, I would’ve pissed in my pants if that ‘ish happened to me. And worse you done closed the door and locked yourself in with the seat belt?? OH HELLS NO!!!

I’m happy to report that MB’s girl is much more courageous than I. ‘Cause instead of pissing on herself or even calling the police, she was focused. She simply jumped out the car and started screaming at dude to get the hell out of her whip. Which he did… slowly. Talking about, ‘My bad. The door was open and I was tired.’

Um, I’m sorry. Did he just say, he was tired?

BLANK STARE W/ 3 LOOOONG BLINKS

See, this the kinda bullshit urban legends are made of. And like I told, MB- I’m just glad that dude was a hard sleeper. Cause can you imagine if he woke up before she looked up in the rear view mirror??? SMH.

senselesstragedy.com

long way from the drummond’s crib…

By on June 8, 2010 in going to hell in a handbasket, made for the maury show, tapped out, work it white girl

WOWOW… so Gary Coleman’s scary snaggletoothed ex-wife done sold photos of the man on his death bed to The Globe tabloid ???

PAUSE
Real talk? I’m actually at a loss. I don’t even know what to say to that… Who does that???

CONTEMPLATIVE SILENCE

And not for nothing, here my dumbass was trying to give that maniacal lookin’ bish the benefit of the doubt since we all know Gary used to whoop that ass coming and going. Okay? But crazy is crazy…

I mean, first it was the call to 911 where she straight up tells the emergency services operator that she absolutely will not go help resuscitate Gary because “there’s blood everywhere and its just too much.” Then come to find out, homegirl wasn’t even married to the little man no more. Next, she’s all up on TV denying rumors of involvement before folks even had the presence of mind to start talking? And now, she’s fighting the family over burial rights!

DEAD FISH EYES

Lord… Jesus be the next Lifetime movie of the week.

i hate his striped t-shit…

By on June 7, 2010 in made for the maury show, tapped out, too old for the road

Well alrighty then… It seems that Gawker has allegedly identified the latest ‘hot new dance craze’ called Surra de Banda. Mmm-hmmm. Now under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t pay a mainstream blog like Gawker much atention when it comes to pinpointing a hot new anything that relates to people of color but as soon as I read that it’s a Brazilian dance and even better, the name translates to “ass licking” I was all in.

Don’t judge me dammit.

Anyoo in the interest of time, I’m going to skip over the back alley black sheet/backdrop, the purposeless pleather belt hanging idly around homegirl’s waist, the intriguing jiggly movements her saddlebags were doing all on their own and the fact that any actual dancing she attempted sucked. Because honestly, this post is bigger than this rhythmless fashion challenged child.

Instead, I’m gonna focus on one simple concern:

What kind self respecting man is going to willingly sit down and allow any woman to SMASH his complete face into her ass??

BLANK STARE w 3 LOOOONG BLINKS

And I mean to say, homegirl is jerking the HELL out of dude and clearly giving him all kinds of unexplainable shoe burn on the side of his neck. And still, he’s just as calm and smiling… looking like a straight nutjob.

No offense.

Please believe, every time homeboy’s nose disappeared between her cheeks I literally gagged. I mean I’m all for some occasional aggressive foreplay between consenting adults but what if she mistakenly farted or some such nonsense???

*pinches nose and backflips into a bedazzled Walmart casket*

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