Ruby keeps peeing on my doormat.

So this past weekend I attended Anne & Andy’s wedding somewhere in the woods of Pennsylvania. And I have to say, it was probably one of the best weddings I’ve been to in years. Everything was really simple and no-frill- I mean, the vows were exchnged were in a state park and the afterparty to the reception was a bonfire for god’s sake. You really should’ve seen me hiding behind a station wagon in the busy parking lot as I struggled to change into my push-up bra and dress b/c we were running too late to stop at the cabin beforehand. Not city sexy at all. Now as most of you know, I’m all for the big, break the bank, go hard or go home, my super wedding ceremony/reception set-up but it was obvious that being beside a waterfall in the middle of nowhere was exactly what the two of them envisioned for thier wedding and it made all the difference. Both Anne and Andy were so happy it literally radiated off of them. For a moment, I got so caught up, I started to consider flipping the script and getting married in the woods too. But then I quickly remembered who my peoople are and I pulled it together – FAST. I could hear Karina now- “Um Mitzi? And exactly how am I supossed to climb over the stones in my 4-inch heels?” Or Shayla, ” You know Steve and I are not hanging out in dark woods with the babies. Ever.” And then there’s my beloved Tia Puchi who ain’t sleeping in nobody’s tent/ yert if you paid her a million dollars. She’d be like, “Um, I don’t think so. This ain’t Iraq. You best to find me and the dogs a proper hotel pronto chica!” No, it just isn’t gonna happen for the kid.
But seriously? The best part about the whole experience? Getting a front row seat to all the debachery that occurs behind the scenes at white weddings. MY GOD. I never really understood just how real the premise of The Wedding Crashers is. It felt like the entire reception was full of single people plotting on a hook-up with someone that they met less than five hours earlier. It was like, “I’m drunk & single and so are you. Let’s make-out.” Add to the equation, that we were in thewoods and I swear, it was like Woodstock 2008 at the bonfire- keg and all. Too funny!
If only Black weddings were this much fun… Sigh.

Good grief, our country’s politicians are so screwed up its painful to pay attention. But the moment you don’t, another basic right is ignored, manipulated or plain taken away. So I started off my first day back from the Bahamas by reading the NYT article about Charlie Rangel and his not one, not two but FOUR adjoining rent stabilized apartments on the TOP floor of a luxury high rise in the heart of Harlem. Why in the world Charlie Rangel deserves four rent stabilized apartment (Let me put it in perspective: he pays all of $3,894 a MONTH for his FOUR apartments. That’s exactly $973.50 per apartment) when there is a waiting list a mile long for affordable housing is beyond me. Adding insult to injury, the kind Senator called a press conference outside of his luxury building where he insisted that he didn’t realize that the special rent rate he was receiving was illegal (Really? The I-didn’t-know defense? That’s the best you got?). Oh and not for nothing, the New York Times needed to mind its business. End quote. Oh Charlie sit down.

So this past Saturday, my mom’s co-worker/ homegirl Sheila organized this meet-n-greet/ booksigning at her house out in Ozone Park for me to hustle my books. Always up for an adventure (cause God only knows where Ozone Park is in relation to my apt in Washington Heights), me and my mom packed up the Volvo, grabbed the extra vague directions that Sheila gave her at work (no, I don’t own a Garvin) and rode out.

There is nothing more depressing than going to the mailbox and finding nothing inside but a single bill. It’s like, I just walked away from the elevator in the opposite direction of my apartment for this mess? Geez.
Don’t people write letters anymore? Can somebody please send me a pretty card or something? It’s like the only peple that bother to send me anything are the ones I owe money. Boo.

When I grow up, I want to have a home in Sedona, AZ. It was one of the most breathtaking, peaceful, inspiring places I’ve been to in the United Staes. The blue skies, red rocks, wide open spaces, hot weather and happy zen people were exactly what the therapist ordered.

Over the course of three days, I managed to got to a baseball game, bronze by the pool, be very prolific (I wrote 3 whole chapters!!), hike up a mountain, eat fantastic food, hang out at a water park and get some much needed rest. I also met an amazing friend of a friend who doesn’t know it yet but is about to really regret his offer to let me come through anytime I want.

Okay before I even begin to light into Remy Ma’s behind, I need to quickly toot my own horn. This morning I completed my last day of boot camp!!! WOO HOO. I am super psyched about the results- the thighs are looking halfway decent and the tummy is back under control. Note, I did not say anything was 100% right, but it’s back under control. So I won’t have to be sucking it up the next time you guys see me on the Food Network.

Um, once again I’m experiencing that strange sensation where I regret that I don’t watch TMZ news or read the tabloids enough. Who knew Corrine Bailey Rae was married? I thought homgeirl was like, 17 years old. Tell the truth, didn’t you? Lord Jesus. And now her 31 year-old husband Jason Rae has been found dead? From a drug over dose? Sigh, it’s barely 9am and I’m already tapped out.

So I’m sitting here thinking about the Elliot Spitzer ho-train debacle and the new Gov. Patterson’s infidelity revelations (instead of transcribing these god forsaken interviews for my Essence assignment). And it occurs to me how the real eye-opener is not that the men cheated but how unequal their treatment of the two respective women were…
-On one hand, Spitzer was willing to pay an average of $5K an hour to be in the err-um, company of this woman. Gov. Patterson- not so much. She probably didn’t even get a dry card on V-Day.
-Spitzer was willing to pay for ole’ girl to have her own room in the exclusive Mayflower Hotel. Gov. Patterson was like, meet me for a couple of hours at the Days Inn.
-Elliot’s chick had tales of wild, kinky sex. There was nothing but crickets about the good Gov’s swagger game. (read: straight missionary).
AND NOW,
E-Boogie’s hooker is now in MAJOR demand for kinds of media outlets. She’ll probably land a record contract any minute now. Not to mention all the money she stands to make from book deals, TV appearances and folks using the $300 tax return to pay for a download of her song on myspace. Poor, poor Gov. Patterson’s jump-off is probably going to be ridiculed at her church on Easter Sunday.
YOU DO THE MATH.

After barely recovering from a vicious 24-hour flu, I went to see the final performance of The Color Purple musical last night at the Broadway Theater. Now, commonsense says I should’ve stayed my behind home and watched the Oscars. but since it was officially the last night of the show’s Broadway run and I actually paid full price for my ticket, I popped some Immodium (thanks Sharae) and went to see what all the hype was about.