Mitzi Moments

Category: pocket full of dirty tissue

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.

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*

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*

how the mighty keep falling…

By on June 23, 2010 in Mitzi- all day every day, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

Tell you what, it is a BAAAAAD day to be Lawrence Taylor. Apparently, this morning the former Giant great was officially indicted for rape, committing a criminal sexual act and sexual abuse. So basically, dude is looking at a potential max of THREE YEARS in a box behind this tomfoolery.


SILENCE.

You know what… I. Can’t.

When are ya’ll Negroes with money gonna learn? STOP paying for ass from women of unclear purpose. STOP having unprotected sex with the same chick ya boy banged out at last year’s all-star weekend. STOP bringing hookers to your real homes. STOP taking nekkid pictures on the cell phone you lose every other month. STOP wifen’ out strippers, exotic dancers, studio rats or whatever you wanna call them. And TRY to act like you have a drop of God-given commonsense.

It’s really, really not that hard.

On a lighter note, the above video courtesy of Miss Jia and the Anti-Bitch Antagonist is the answer to EVERYTHING this wonderful summer morning. Like the nice lady on the cell phone says when your call is connecting: Please enjoy the music!

why we can’t win…

By on June 7, 2010 in desperate cry for help, pocket full of dirty tissue, why we as a people can't get ahead

So I’m flipping through the NY Post and come across an article on former uptown drug lord extraordinaire Frank Lucas (dude portrayed by Denzel in American Gangster). Apparently, as if the film and documentary weren’t enough, some nice publisher has decided to pay good ole Frank to pen a tell-all about the rise and fall of his million dollar-a-day heroin empire.


*deep eye roll*

Now don’t get it twisted, I’m not mad at Mr. Lucas for finding a way to keep the gravy train rolling. Shoot, if they’re cutting checks just to regurgitate the same stories then by all means have at it. It’s just a small part of my conscious isn’t so sure how much we should continue glorifying his lifestyle considering we’re smack in the middle of a recession. Cause not for nothing, there are way too many desperate folks already out here trying to turn a dollar into 15 cents. Okay?

But I’m getting old, and my nerves are bad so perhaps that’s just me…

And to be fair, ultimately the NYP’s write-up does make it seem like Frank is very remorseful of the long term impact that the heroin boom had on folks in Harlem. You know in between, detailing all the negroes he punked, broads he smashed and dollars he tossed away cause he had it like that. But I digress… The important thing is that nowadays instead of slinging Blue Magic, Frank is producing music with his son, Frank Jr. while working on a non-profit for inner-city kids with his daughter, Francine.

*cues the shiny happy music*

Aww! Don’t you love a redemptive happy ending? Well almost…

Last month, Francine’s mom and Lucas’ “soul mate” and wife of more than 40 years, Julie Farriat, was busted on drug-trafficking charges in Puerto Rico.

DEAD FISH EYES

thank you for being a friend…

By on June 3, 2010 in end of days, moment of silence, pocket full of dirty tissue

It may not have the breathtaking panoramic ocean view but I gotta say, I am happy to be back home in the hood. Say what you want, but nothing says love like being accosted by your neighbor’s two playful (but overgrown) pit bulls as you struggle down the hall with luggage.


DEAD FISH EYES

Clearly, there was a lot going on while I was getting my tan on… Gary Coleman done bumped his head and died, Israel is blockading folks in the Gaza, Natalee Halloway’s murderer struck again, Detroit Tiger Armando Galarraga was robbed of a perfect game by the ump, the freaking oil spills on and now to add insult to injury, Rue McLanahan a.k.a Blanche from the Golden Girls done passed away. Damn.

Yo, I freaking LOVED the Golden Girls.

Not for nothing, I’m gonna need another day to readjust to all of this…

stolen scene from stand by me…

By on May 26, 2010 in end of days, i die, pocket full of dirty tissue, tapped out

OMG, as if yesterday’s bus driver and spit situation wasn’t enough to make me wanna dry heave, then I clicked on ESPN.com and read about the 21 year-old freak from New Jersey who just got sentenced for VOMITING on a off-duty police officer and his 11 year-old daughter at a Phillies game back in April.


*back-flips in an open casket*

According to various reports, this fat, nasty mo-f’ker and his homeboy decided to get drunk beyond belief at the baseball game. Then Dumb and Dumber started needlessly harassing the people sitting in front of them. Unfortunately, those people just so happened to be Easton, PA Police Captain Michael Vangelo and his two daughters, aged 15 and 11.

So anyhoo, after a couple of innings of cussing, spilling beer and all around ridiculous behavior, the 15 year-old turned around and asked the two to stop. Well don’t you know, in response Clemmen’s buddy decided to spit on her???

*flatline*

But wait on it… In what can only be described as an epic show of restraint, the cop did NOT kick homeboy’s ass. BLANK STARE. No, instead he calmly went and got an park usher and had Clemmen’s buddy booted from the stadium. (Yeah, I don’t know those type of good samaritans either).

So in retaliation, this worthless bottom feeder starts yelling about how he’s gonna be sick, sicks not one but TWO fingers down his throat and BARFED on the cop and his 11 year-old daughter. Then starts starts throwing mad sucker punches at the cop.

*raises from the dead to kill myself again*

BUT WAIT ON IT… so another off duty-cop intervenes, breaks up the fight and restrains Clemmens until the actual Philly police arrived. At which point, this failed abortion (yeah, I said it) straight UP-CHUCKED on another cop.

*seals the bedazzled Walmart casket with super strength Elmer’s Glue*

PS. the ONLY encouraging thing that I can report about as it relates to this entire story is that is you look really, really closely at the tiny mugshot I was able to find, dude has a crazy black eye. Here’s hoping there was more of that to come after they took the mugshot.

spit goes both ways…

By on May 25, 2010 in going to hell in a handbasket, it's not a game out there, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out, why we as a people can't get ahead

So I just read the article in the NYT about the 51 bus drivers taking an average of THREE months paid leave after being SPIT on by an angry rider in 2009. And wait on it, in the past year, 80 drivers have already reported being spit on at some point by an angry rider.

SILENCE.

There are so many things wrong with that statement it’s hard for me to get started.

*Inhales deep, deep calming breath*

First of all, who SPITS on people? I don’t know if this became some sort of fad after the craziness of that dirty white girl hocking a fat ball of phlegm at fellow contestant ‘New York’ during season one of VH1’s Flavor of Love but I’ll tell you what…. This ain’t no damn reality TV. You can get AIDS, swine flu and all kinds of foolishness from contact with the wrong person’s saliva. Spitting on someone is beyond nasty, it’s life threatening.

If I was the bus driver, I would’ve taken that as a straight up attempt of my life, and wilded the hellout. Forget taking days off a work, I’m johnny-on-the-spot. I’m gonna do my damndest to shove that ‘ish right back down your throat. I’m just saying, don’t try me.

DEAD FISH EYES.

But on the other hand, unless that saliva started to burn the flesh off your body- there’s NO GOOD REASON anyone should require 3 months or in the case of one man, 191 days paid leave to recover from a spitting incident. Nope, not at all. You’re a New Yorker goddammit. Man up and pull yourself together.At the most take a couple of days, get all your blood tests done, relax your nerves and get back at it.

Cause in case you hadn’t heard, there’s already a freaking MTA budget shortfall to the tune of $400 million dollars.

Blank Stare W/ 3 Looooong Blinks.

Bottom line: I fell your pain. But if you’re that damn scarred, you need to go drive a taxi or snow truck or something. But for God’s sake, don’t bilk my already paying-through-the-nose, single-with-no-kids taxpaying self. Please and thanks.

*kanye shrug*

self-esteem on extra, extra low…

By on May 24, 2010 in desperate cry for help, it takes a village, pocket full of dirty tissue, tagging out, why we as a people can't get ahead

So err-um a yeah, about Venus’s outfit at the French Open… How can I put this nicely? No way, no ma’am, not even on a dare.


DEAD FISH EYES.

Although strategically, I can see how it worked to her advantage. Cause honestly, who in their right mind is not going to be completely thrown off when her tall lanky self pranced unto the court in some trashy.com super sale lingerie? And then the first time the wind blew and it seemed as if she was completely naked underneath? GAME OVER. If I was that poor girl, I’d need more than a minute to get my mind behind some mess like that.

And while I’m all for doing what you have to do to get the win, at the end of the day it still grossed me out. Aside from the fact that I absolutely hate black and red as a lingerie color combo, the entire outfit just looks inappropriate. You weren’t home playing a random game of pick-up in our pjs with your homegirl. This was one of the biggest tournaments of the season.

You can’t tell me that she’s not starting to resent how much of a media darling Serena has suddenly become now that she’s dating Common. And I get it. It’s gotta be miserable being the sibling that genetics fairies forgot to drop a lil booty on. So you decide to do something to get folks’ tongues wagging about you too. But still, this is nuts.

Um hello. Venus Williams you’re the #2 ranked tennis player in the world and THIS is what you wanna do? Uh-uh.

Survey says LAME.

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