Mitzi Moments

Category: pocket full of dirty tissue

folks got real problems…

By on September 24, 2009 in Mitzi- all day every day, pocket full of dirty tissue, too old for the road

Hmmm, am I the only person that doesn’t feel bad for Plaxico Burress? And mind you, I mean to say I’m not feeling even a second worth of remorse for the guy. 


Think about it.

Not only was Plaxico stoopid enough to carry a dangerous firearm into a nightclub… This numskull tucks the piece into the waistband of his pants??  Like he’s the outlaw in some sort of gangsta flick?  Are you serious right now?  And then you got the nerve to be jumping around the Latin Quarter, popping bottles? Aye dos mio…

Real talk? Plaxico put everyone that went out that night to have a good time in mortal danger because he “didn’t feel safe.”  Well shit, then stay your scary ass at home.  But definitely don’t bring a gun- that you clearly don’t know how to operate responsibly- into a crazy environment like a packed NYC club. Ever. 

another reason to stick with target…

By on September 23, 2009 in going to hell in a handbasket, pocket full of dirty tissue, too old for the road, why we as a people can't get ahead

See now, this is EXACTLY what I mean when I tell people: can’t nothing good happen in New Jersey… Why in the retirement-home-escapee-hell was an 82-year old man arrested for fondling four different women in a freaking Walmart in Trenton??


As if life isn’t miserable enough when you’re waiting in those long ass lines, now you’ve got the perverted geriatric dude who really should be wasting away in a hospice somewhere rubbing up against you and fondling himself!  WTF???

And wait on it- apparently Hector (yeah, that’s really his name) has already served two years in prison for sexual assault and lewdness.
Uh-uh, Jesus take the wheel, because I. Can’t.

idris is all we have…

By on September 21, 2009 in desperate cry for help, keep hope alive, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

Did anyone watch the Emmys last night?  Yeah, me neither. But you know I promptly went  through the all the red carpet photos as soon as I logged on this morning. And to be honest, I wasn’t really that impressed with those either. 


But something that did occur to me as I clicked my way through all the hits and misses, was the lack of lust- worthy black actors. I mean, whether the dresses were hot or not, the majority of the women were still beautiful and certified girl-crush material.  But the boys? Eh, not so much. 

Like forreal, forreal, are there are no hot straight black men on television?? 

As much as it pains me to say it (’cause you know Love & Basketball is one of my most FAVORITE movies ever), Omar Epps is over. I don’t know what in the molten-plastic-plastic-looking-botox-hell is going on with LL Cool J face. Something about Gary Dourdan continues to be a yawn. And crazy ass Tracy Morgan is just well, no thank you.

Seriously?  I’m kind of sad about this. I mean, I can appreciate the sexiness in whatever color it arrives- um hello Adrian Grenier but it might be nice to have something with a little melanin to gawk at every one in a while. I’m just saying.

slow news day…

By on September 16, 2009 in end of days, pocket full of dirty tissue

Wow, remember Monifah?  What ever happened to her? Just another casualty of the 90s black lipliner, leather catsuit and remix era, huh? Damn.  You gotta hate it when that happens…


I wonder if we’ll soon be saying the same thing about Maya and Amerie.  Oh wait, we’re already saying it. Oh well.

tears of a clown…

By on September 10, 2009 in it's not a game out there, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out

Hmmm, so while President Obama was figuring out 50 different ways to politely shank the Republican party in that amazing speech on health care that he delivered last night, apparently former NJ Net Jayson Williams was up in the State Supreme Court falling out and LITERALLY crying poor. 


Mind you, this the same dude who made at least $87 million bouncing a call around for a living. Uh-huh and now he’s talking ’bout, there’s no money and he’s broke. Feel free to insert blank stare with three blinks.

Err-um Jayson honey, I’m sure you thought that Obama was bringing the era of the lightskin man back but it ain’t get this far honey.  At. All.

Granted, $200,000 (which is actually backdated 6 months to March ’09) is a whole lot of money for someone who probably had to barter his left testicle to cover all those criminal defense fees to pay in spousal/ child support. Mmm-hmmm… remember that messy trial? And the unfortunate taser incident shortly thereafter? Sigh.

But dude, ain’t nobody tell you to shoot that limo driver and then try and hide the evidence. And at the end of the day, there’s only so much sorrow that I can muster for someone who lists not one but THREE homes and an ownership in a professional lacrosse team amongst his assets.

Yeah, survey says- no thank you.

pants on fire…

By on September 3, 2009 in desperate cry for help, pocket full of dirty tissue, tapped out, too old for the road

Um, so what a minute. Just so I’m clear- that whole story about pioneer female rapper Roxanne Shante negotiating to get a Ph.D as part of her payment from the record company is a lie???  Well damn, I don’t even know what to say. 


Not for nothing, I JUST saw her being honored at this Women in Hip-Hip Achievement dinner thingy not too long ago… Sigh.  It’s just so sad when people lie to get attention and then get caught out like this. 

Kinda reminds me of good ‘ole Tyler Perry. Remember how long he was running around here insisting that he was heterosexual? Oh wait, he’s still talking that ‘ish.  My bad.

it takes a village…

By on September 2, 2009 in end of days, it's in the genes, it's not a game out there, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, that sense of entitlement, too old for the road

It’s official, poor white trash is NOT handling the recession well. No ma’m, Not. At. All.



But wait on it… Apparently the 61-year old, Roger Stephens didn’t know Sonya Mathews or her 2 year-old from NOWHERE.  As in, they were complete strangers up until the moment they turned down the same aisle. 

Then according to the news report, Roger warned her that “if she didn’t quiet down the child, he would do it for her.” And just like that, when the ‘ole girl didn’t do anything, he proceeded to slap the little girl not once but SEVERAL times across the face. Talking ’bout, “See I told you I would shut her up.”  I. Am. Done.

Jesus be a fresh pair of Depends cause I swear I’m peeing on myself right now.

Now I admit… there have been many a day where I’ve fantasized (vividly) about smacking fire out of some unruly brat throwing a temper tantrum in a grocery store or public place of business.  Especially when it’s clear that all the cerebral ” we don’t hit, we do time-outs” bullcrap some of these parents are using isn’t worth the spit coming out of the kid’s mouth and the lil’ punk really just needs a swift backhand to cut the shit short. But these are my FANTASIES.  

Now homeboy right here? He is bananas.  

And more importantly, I’m just trying to envision what-in-the-petite-weakish-non-violent-hell this woman looks like or comes from. ‘Cause not for nothing, I really wish a random old man would go hard with ANY of the women I know that have kids. SHEEEIT.  All I’m gonna say is, this right here is the reason for emergency bail money savings accounts.

Let the police sirens wail…

lowest common denominator…

By on August 28, 2009 in desperate cry for help, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, tapped out

Okay- so in the pure, unadulterated tomfoolery of the day:  the unnamed Tunisian woman who earlier this week claimed to be pregnant with twelve kids via IVF has been exposed as a fraud. And surprise, surprise, suddenly homegirl and her aiding and abetting husband have gone into hiding. Whatever.


I know everyone wants to famous/ special and important but who-in-the-worthless-excuse-for-a-life hell lies about being pregnant with 12 kids? No ma’am, this type of foolishness is a perfect example of  what happens when folks start talking just to hear the sound of their voices.  

Jesus be the overbooked looney bin.

you say anorexia, I say sample size

By on August 24, 2009 in i die, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, work it white girl

If this pissy summer weather has been good for absolutely nothing else, it’s def helped me step up my reality TV game.  Not only have I successful killed several viable brain cells watching  all the episodes of 16 and Pregnant but then there was yesterday afternoon’s six-hour Bridezilla marathon. Mmm-hmmm, ain’t no shame in my rainy day Sunday sofa game. But NOW, the time has finally come for the mother of all mind numbing TV- the premiere of The Rachel Zoe Project!!! 


OMG, I. DIE.

For the record, I know it makes no sense for me to be this excited about another woman.  But I swear I can’t help myself.  I LOVE that evil, egotistical, emaciated, bitchy white woman. 

And quite honestly,  it nothing to do with her supposed fashion sense (which I sometimes question).  In fact, I would prefer if the producers didn’t show her dressing a celeb for the entire season.  I simply want to watch her lose her shit week after week over absolutely NOTHING of consequence.  ‘Cause quite candidly?  Her level of superficiality is a unique gift from above. You can’t pay to be this self-centered.

Oh and let us not forget Tyler (her envious, mean-hearted lead assistant who so clearly would be a serial killer if so wasn’t Rachel’s indentured slave) and Brad (the most crocodile tear crying, opportunistic gay man on cable TV). Truth be told, the cat fights between the two of them deserves it’s own spin-off. Its too much. 

Jesus be a full-length mink in the dead of August.

automatic trip to the ER…

By on August 7, 2009 in end of days, it takes a village, pocket full of dirty tissue, too old for the road

Okay, for the record I’m all for teenagers using intimate dance moves to express their sexuality. Call me liberal but all means, get on the dance floor and grind it out all night if that’ll knock off the edge (read: keep the unplanned pregnancy rate down). HOWSOMEVA, there is a LIMITATION to the stupidity. And this recent dancehall craze called daggerin’… well, this is where mama gots to draw the line.

Honestly? Peep the video. I wouldn’t even describe this as imitating rough sex. Nope, survey says straight domestic violence. WTF is that Pum Pum dive at about 3:01?? I wish some negro would leap off a ladder and land on top of me… Shoot. Not for nothing, these hips ain’t NEVER, EVER, EVER been built for that.

Like Elsa used to say, these kids are making my nerves bad. Sigh.

Jesus be a broken pelvis.

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