pocket full of dirty tissue | Mitzi Moments

happy 100 days…

By Mitzi on April 29, 2009 in desperate cry for help, keep hope alive, Mitzi- all day every day, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out

So this past week, the washer/ dryer at the boy’s house ate my favorite pair of jeans.

I’m not saying it was his fault of anything like that BUT… my jeans were just fine when I put them in them in his machine. Then lo and behold, when the cycle ended and I started to fold the clothes, there’s a big ass hole under the left back pocket!! Insert image of my mouth dropping wide open in shock like an idiotic cartoon character.

Forget how much the silly thing cost, I worked SO HARD to get those jeans to fit my booty the way I wanted!!! Those were my ‘get-‘em-girl/ it’s-ya-birthday’ jeans… sniffle, sniffle. What I’mma supposed to do now??

I’ve lost a loved one. Please light a candle…

the height of stupidity….

By Mitzi 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…

in the name of the father…

By Mitzi on April 22, 2009 in going to hell in a handbasket, keep hope alive, pocket full of dirty tissue

Considering how flawed modern day society’s moral compass has become, it must be extremely difficult to spread the Good Word. In all fairness, preachers pastors, priests, nuns and all members of the clergy probably do twice as much just to make half the impact. But err-um, not for nothing does it really take a $600K compensation package to get the job done? Really?

Apparently the new senior pastor at Riverside Church thinks so. And it turns out, as of this Sunday the good Pastor Braxton will be receiving:

-$250,000 in salary.
-$11,500 monthly housing allowance.
-Private school tuition for his child.
-A full-time maid.
-Entertainment, travel and “professional development” allowances.
-Pension and life insurance benefits.
-An equity allowance for him to save up to buy a home.

Far be it from me to judge who Jesus selects to be his shepard but I’m just saying- $250K base salary? A full time maid? Entertainment and travel allowance? In the midst of a global recession? Shouldn’t his ass be home, sitting still, reading the Bible looking for a sign?

Uh-uh, something just ain’t clean in the milk.

For this amount of money, I fully expect to hear about miracles popping off every single week. And not no play-play miracles either! I want reports of cripples walking, the blind being able to see and bigger than all that; good-looking, college-educated, SINGLE black men filling up the pews like it’s front row seats at a Jay-Z concert. Can I get an amen?

‘Cause as far as I’m concerned, the moment Pastor Braxton starts turning water into $20 bills, is the only day he should receive a $600k package for doing the Lord’s work. Till then, I’m gonna have to pray on it.

Happy Earth Day ya’ll!

i’ll give you somethin’ to cry about…

By Mitzi on April 21, 2009 in it ain't easy, Mitzi- all day every day, pocket full of dirty tissue, using our powers for good

I hate the first day of my period. Okay, perhaps hate is a strong word. Let me rephrase that: I really dislike the first day of my period.

Every single time without fail, I’ll wake up on said morning with the starving African orphan-esque bloated belly, killer lower back pain and feeling extra extra evil. Like it’s so not a game for those initial minutes after the wake-up. All the way up until I finally figure that ‘duh, I got my period! That’s what all the drama and confusion is about!!’

Thankfully, I generally wake up alone. So, time permitting, I’ll promptly proceed to lay around in the bed, tossing from side to side, feeling sorry for myself and watching things that make me cry like Steel Magnolias/ the Christian the Lion youtube video for about half a day or at least until I remember those times when the period was late… ‘Cause please believe, nothing makes a woman pull it together and be grateful for a little cramp more than the memory of the times you had to commence the prayer circle and send the bloodhounds out to find it.

Uh-huh… Jesus be the 25th day.

But wait on it… so this morning before I could even get in a good hour of the whole ‘woah is Mitzi on her period’, I noticed an online article about a white woman in England who’s allergic to WATER. Can you imagine? Apparently Michaela Dutton has a rare allergy to water called aquagenic urticaria. Therefore anytime her skin gets wet, she breaks out in a painful rash!! YIKES!

Mind you, the post is 100% PC and solely focuses on the fact that this poor woman can’t even hold her own son because his sweat hurts her so much. Which I will definitely agree, is a heartbreaking issue. But you wanna know what I think is really, really the most tragic aspect of this situation? This woman CAN’T BATHE. For her entire life, she’s just been STINK.

I mean think about it. How can she possible take a shower? EVER? She busy talking about “people don’t come around anymore because they think I’m contagious.” No my dear, folks don’t come around cause you SMELL. I can’t.

Between this and the 22 year-old Boston University medical student killing Craigslist prostitutes in hotels for thrills, I had to cut the pity party short. My life is too damn good. Onward my people.

andele mi gente…

By Mitzi on April 17, 2009 in desperate cry for help, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

Yo, forreal? Sometimes advertisers be on that ish….

Can someone puh-lease tell me what in the world Burger King ad execs were thinking when they created a campaign for the new Texican burger that features a squat Mexican draped in his country’s flag next to a tall American?

And wait on it…A TV version of the ad shows the strapping cowboy and the pint-sized Mexican wrestler — nicknamed “Just a Little Bit” — living together as roommates. At one point, the American lifts up the Mexican to help him put a trophy on a high shelf.

Granted, this whole campaign will never hit the states or Mexico for that matter. It ran exclusively in Europe. Guess, they thought non of the Nordic folks would object, huh? (Insert razor sharp side-eye)

But all tomfoolery aside… Did it never occur to any of the gringos that green lit this blatantly racist idea that Mexicans (shoot, all native Spanish people) might be a teeny, weeny upset? No? Not even a little pause for concern? Yeah, didn’t think so.

You can take the mule to the water but you can’t make the ass drink.

say it loud…

By Mitzi on April 16, 2009 in desperate cry for help, i die, pocket full of dirty tissue, work it white girl

Oh-wee, it’s a hard time to be a white woman, huh?

First, old girl in Florida shot the back of her son’s head off to “save his soul.”

Then poor Luan De Lesseps, the countess on “The Real Housewives of New York” (the tall, funny acting chick who used to be a regular ass nurse in CT until she landed the hubby and then got all brand new on folks), was informed via email that her gravy train was leaving her for a much younger woman of (gasp) color. Which really, really sucks when she’s got this new autobiographical etiquette guide entitled Class With the Countess: How To Live With Elegance & Flair to promote (because clearly they’re giving away book deals like water). And wait on it… why is the book all about how seduce and hang on to a man. Hilarity!!

And now, on the other side of the country, the patron saint of poor white trash Gov. Sarah Palin is catching a bad one back in Alaska. In addition to the ongoing public fighting with a freaking 19 year-old kid just cause he knocked up your fast ass daughter and left her and the baby high and dry to do appearances on Tyra; apparently her fellow lawmakers aren’t feeling her new ambitious attitude at all. Um, you giving speeches in Indiana while folks is trapped in Juneau trying to balance the state’s budget?? No maam. Them rednecks ain’t having it. In response, they’ve stripped a bunch of her little pet projects like the natural gas pipeline from the proposed Senate budget and started talked junk to whoever will listen. Uh-huh, just like that….

What can I say? Jesus be the melanin that sets me free.

where are the flashlight cops when u need them…

By Mitzi on April 9, 2009 in going to hell in a handbasket, i die, made for the maury show, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out, too old for the road

Okay normally there is nothing funny about a suicide. I repeat, nothing funny. But the keyword in the previous phrase would be NORMALLY.

Yesterday afternoon, a 50 year-old woman jumped to her death from the third floor of the Queens Center Mall atrium and wait on it… LANDED on a 17 year-old high school kid down below!!

Apparently Derrick Munoz and his girlfriend were reclining in some leather massage chairs when ‘ole girl landed dead on his head and knocked him THE FUCK OUT. Mmm-hmmm… And you know Jesus got jokes when the sign on the back of the chair said, “Sit back and relax.”

Not SIT BACK and RELAX!!!

OK, on the forreal, forreal, who does something like this? Who jumps over the banister in a crowded mall? And from the 3rd floor? Come on now ma, you weren’t even going hard. I know you know somebody with a balcony on the top floor of one of those 30-story project housing buildings. If it’s your last statement, why not make it count? Sigh, unbelievable.

Thankfully, poor Derrick finally regained consciousness in the ambulance en route to the hospital. And aside from a large gash on his head there were no other visible signs of injury.

Ding, ding, ding…

she is the boss of me…

By Mitzi on April 3, 2009 in desperate cry for help, pocket full of dirty tissue, supermarket dreams on a bodega budget, too old for the road

Oh wait, so lemme tell you what I did this morning…

Instead of getting my butt up and working on the never ending pile of receipts that need to be added up before my Sunday afternoon appointment with my new tax preparer, my dumb ass decided to attempt to groom my dog.

Mind you, Drama is not, I repeat, is NOT a small DOG. The only time she was light enough for me to carry her was the very first week she came to live with me. And I swear, after those first 7 days, I was like uh-uh you gots to sit your big ass on the floor. So now, at almost 12 years old, the last thing her sleep-fart-eat behind wants to do is hold still while I fumble around with some pathetic little brush. Okay?

But I was determined to be economically conscience and save myself the $90 by brushing/ bathing her myself. I mean, in these tight times every little bit counts right?

Okay so, I’m an idiot.

After two whole hours of brushing and begging her to stay still (cause she may not run but she certainly will lay the hell down) and brushing, my white tile kitchen floor looks like a black shag carpet. The airborne pet danger is making me wheeze like a dying asthmatic. And worse of all, that fat hooker still stinks. Sigh. I’m done. the rest of my day will now be spent cleaning up the huge mess I’ve just created.

It’s official- the Lord don’t like a cheap ass.

who needs scary movies…

By Mitzi on March 24, 2009 in it ain't easy, pocket full of dirty tissue, too old for the road

Lord haf mercy, mama gettin’ old!

So I ventured out to Bungalow 8 last night to help my homegirl DJ Kiss celebrate her bday and surprise engagement to her man, Mos (YEAH KISS!!) And while I LOVE , LOVE , LOVE getting dressed up and celebrating special occasions w the crew… I gotta tell you, it sure ain’t as easy to do the whole dancing till 3am on a weeknight stroll no more. No maam. When I woke up this morning, I felt like a mack truck had rolled over, stopped and reversed over every part of my body from the top of the head to the bottoms of my feet. Just a mess.

And I’m not going to even try to explain how hard it was to wrap my head around the story I just read about the 31-year-old Indonesian man who was mauled to death by two kimono dragon lizards! What in the world??

So basically, homeboy is professional fruit picker (err-um, who knew those even existed?). And he’s up in some sugar-apple tree doing what he does best. Then for whatever reason, poor thing falls off of the godforsaken tree and the lizards who just happen to be chilling at the bottom of the tree ATTACK!!! They bit the shit outta his hands, body, legs and neck. Mmm-hmm…

Apparently, the reptiles (which can grow up to 10 feet long and weigh damn near 150 pounds) have shark-like serrated teeth. And addition to the cuts, the bite can be deadly because its saliva contains roughly 50 different known bacteria strains. Eeeewwaa!! So dirty!

Seriously? If this ain’t some ole cracked-out-Wes-Craven-sci-fi-animals gone-wild-type mess I don’t know what it is. Good freakin’ luck.

viagra is the devil…

By Mitzi on March 23, 2009 in desperate cry for help, going to hell in a handbasket, honorary white woman, i'm not ready to be a grandmother, pocket full of dirty tissue, tapped out

Hold up, wait a minute! What you know about two old ass women coming to blows in the middle of the street over some 72-year-old piece a man?!?!?!

According to the police report filed by 78-year-old (yes, as in 7-8) Edith Mitchell: she was chillin’ in a car with her boyfriend of two years when some unnamed 73-year-old woman rolled up popping junk about that being her man and started punching poor Edith in the head!!! Mm-hmm, straight thumped her out.

Now you know, Edith ain’t get to be 78-years-old by mistake so she carried her ass in the crib, grabbed her shotgun and came out guns a-blazing on some old school western, let’s get it poppin’ bee-yatch type nonsense…

Unfortunately, the side chick was a little quicker on her feet than good ‘ole Edith. Apparently she snatched the shotgun from Edith and fired a shot. (Damn, just like that.) Thankfully, she missed Big E and no one else was fatally injured. Um, feel free to pick your face off the floor right now.

Okay seriously? There are sosososo many things wrong with this situation, I don’t even know where to begin. Forget the fact that there were two geriatric females slap boxing in the street. Lemme ask you this, where the hell was the alledged boyfriend when all this craziness was happening?? What, was he too old to get involved? And how in the world do you explain to your kids and GRANDkids what had happened to you? Uh-uh, I can’t.

Jesus come get your bey-bey kids…

Page 17 of 5 15 16 17 18 19

Mitzi Moments

CONTACT

Category: pocket full of dirty tissue