Category: supermarket dreams on a bodega budget

Random: so the other day I received an email from a unknown marketing company rep named Justine asking whether I’d be interested in becoming a Gap Brand Enthusiast. According to her email, somehow or another, they’d stumbled on my blog, enjoyed the tomfoolery and wanted to see if I was down to test out the new ‘Born To Fit’ line of GAP jeans before they hit the stores this fall for, wait on it… FREE.   

Oh please believe, I  just knew this was one of those African-money-laundering-pyramid schemes.  Not to mention that I haven’t comfortably fit into a pair of GAP jeans since I was in freaking college. But then I reconsidered and was like what the hell?  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

Turns out that not only is this operation very legit but in addition to the jeans, if selected (of course there’s a whole process) not only will I get to try out the new jeans, but for the next year I’ll also get all the latest and greatest releases from GAP!!  

Err-umm free clothes for a year in the middle of a recession? Can the church get an amen???

Then wait on it… to sweeten the deal, Justine ends the meeting by taking me shopping for an outfit at the nearby GAP store!! I copped the most comfy summer weight cardigan (I’m actually wearing it in my profile photo), a great pair of linen trousers, a pretty gray sweater top that you will probably be seeing on TV sometime sooner or later and a silk tank top that’s gonna be hot to death with my white jeans. Mmm-hmmm, just like that.
So anyhoo, we shall see. I assume that they’ll be making their decision within the month. Fingers crossed… If nothing else, THANKS JUSTINE. This post is for you.

Here’s the thing, I’m all for fashion forwardness.  I love seeing new trends emerge (so about to cop an adorable one-piece pantsuits) and disappear (baby doll dress be damned).  

Even if good old fashioned commonsense/ awareness of my body shape won’t necessarily allow me to get involved (thigh high boots), more power to those constantly push the envelope.  
With that said, this morning I have serious beef with Rihanna.
What the in the unholy my-stylist-had-the-night-off HELL was she doing prancing around NYC in a damn over-sized cardigan like it’s a sweater dress?? 
Shit is a certified wreck.  Oh and PS, the random bustier tossed up under there doesn’t make it any better. At. All. Cause really, it just looks like  ya girl put on the pretty drawers, the sweater and said bump wearing pants/shorts/anything to properly cover her butt.
Listen, I know the poor thing done been through some shit recently but that’s simply no reason to hit the pavement assed-out and half-naked.  Uh-uh, no maam.  Not today, not tomorrow, not even on a dare.
But the FORREAL, FORREAL reason that I’m mad at Rih-Rih?  For every time her tall and skinny behind tries to pull something crazy like this off.  There’s a confused girl with a TOTALLY Different shape following her lead…  AND FAILING MISERABLY.  
Exhibit A: Homegirl following right behind her in the shiny shirt, leather boots and a crazy looking cardigan vest of her own. Need I say more?
Jesus be a fill-length mirror. Light a candle ya’ll…

See now, I’m already in a mood…. 

Because I have to take Drama to see the vet this afternoon. And everybody that knows me understands that I am HIGHLY sensitive when it comes to my damn geriatric dog. 
So aside from the fact I’m certain to be at LEAST $300 poorer for today’s experience; I’m super nervous that the doctor is gonna tell me something I don’t wanna hear. Like, “No Ms. Miller the weakness in her hind legs that occasionally requires you to lift her onto the standing position is not just her trying to be stubborn.”  Sigh. Pray for me ya’ll.  Not sure I can make it without that mutt…
But THEN, I was perusing The YBF and noticed a post detailing Rick Ross’s feeble attempt to prove that his sunglasses aren’t fake. WTF??  Did you not read the letter that the white boys sent XXL? Or better yet, CAN YOU NOT read the letter the white boys sent?? ‘Cause it sure seemed pretty straightforward to me and all the millions of other literate folks laughing at you and your stylist’s dumb asses.
But wait on it… here’s the actual  explanation: 
Rick bought the sunglasses from Louis Vuitton. But afterwards, he had them customized. (Feel free insert blank star and three blinks.)  
Negro, are you serious right now? This ain’t no car!  Don’t nobody get a pair of damn sunglasses TRICKED OUT. What, was you gonna put SPINNERS on them too? I. Can’t. Officer Ricky will you and your frugazzy, Dade County swap-meet special  sunglasses puh-lease move from my eyesight?  And not now, but RIGHT NOW!

I love the hell outta my ‘hood but I HATE my local post office.  

No matter the time of the day, whenever I walk in there are at least 25 smelly people waiting in line and only two dusty ass service windows open. Talking about they’re sorry for the long wait but the branch is severely understaffed. 
Bump that! We can ALL see the five random employees milling around behind the 1000 year-old teller doing a whole lot of NOTHING. Why don’t you go tell Maria and Jose to stop eating the arroz con pollo and come do something?? DAMMIT!
Not for nothing, I thought you had to at least have a GED to work for the US government? Am I right? So what’s the problem?  Why is something so simple as choosing to pay for the stamps with my American Express card seem like I’m asking you to go through Armageddon??
Ay con Dios.

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.

Just yesterday my girl Joan brought up an ongoing conversation we’ve been sharing about the increasing number of ‘crimes of desperation’ occurring around the country ever since our economy jumped on the little red wagon to hell.  You know, like daytime bank robberies, purse snatchings, rich folks in S.C sinking their sailboats for the insurance money, etc. 

And then lo and behold, what do I read this morning but the breaking news story about a man in Washington state that held up a convenience store at gunpoint with wait on it… his 9 year-old daughter in tow.  Seriously? What in the worthless-ass-child-protective-services part of  “bring your kids to work day” is this? 
No sir, I cannot and I will not. 
Robert Daniel Webb, I rebuke thee!


Soooo after much ado, WHAT GOES AROUND- the third installment of my award-winning teen book series HOTLANTA- hits bookstores nationwide today
WOO HOO!!!  Go Mitzi, it’s your book drop date, Go Mitzi get busy!! It’s a celebration B*TCHES!!
Okay party people, you know what the deal is… time to put your money where your mouth is and show your homegirl some love. Please take a friend and go buy your copies of WHAT GOES AROUND, not now but right now.  
And for those who simply don’t have time to stop by a Barnes & Noble, books-A-Million, Daltons or Borders, then by all means, feel free to click your way over to and purchase it online. 
And not for nothing, it’s still being sold at the recession-friendly price of $9.99. So be sure to cop a copy or two or ten…. I’m just saying.  
It takes a village my brother… 

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 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…

Wow, I just read the most random and utterly depressing news- Waterford Wedgewood has filed for bankruptcy. Good god, that company has set the standard in fine chine and crystal wares for like forever. And just like that it’s a wrap. Dayum…

I swear, at the rate things are going everybody’s wedding registry will request paper plates, plastic forks and those big red solo cups. Yeah, I said it.

In case I haven’t gotten around to speaking to you personally, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! My 2009 bring you and yours continued health, happiness and prosperity! (And yes, there was silly string at the NYE party!)

And in the spirit of the new year here the single resolution that I hope we will ALL keep:
NO more belly-aching or complaining.
If a Black man named freaking Barack Obama could figure out how to get elected to the Presidential office of this crazy ass country then there is NO EXCUSES for why WE all can’t succeed at whatever our hearts desire.




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