Mitzi Moments

Mitzi Moments

1,2, 3, no backsies…

By on January 9, 2009 in feedback

I promise you, I have some of the BESTEST ex-boyfriends in the world. Like I always say, as soon I end a relationship, shit just comes together for the dude. Out of nowhere they all transform into these intelligent, caring, mature MEN. You know, the great guys who are always willing to lend a hand or listen when you need to vent? Suddenly, they want to share and confide. Mind you, wasn’t nary of this generousity or openess in effect during the time we were officially ‘girlfriend and boyfriend.’ But you know why, right? Keyword: END.

Uh-huh, its heartbreaking but the majority of negros gots to have their toys taken away before they can figure out how to play nice.
So it makes sense why 40%, can envision yourselves getting married to an ex if he were to show up on the doorstep with ring RIGHT NOW. Afterall, when they’re not pissing you off on a regular basis, the potential that attracted you to them initially becomes visible again. And not for nothing but after all that work you done put it? Shaping and molding that fool? Yeah, I can see how that might could be the golden ticket.

But after careful thought, I’m rolling with the 60% who have absolutely no interest in marrying any of my exs that are still available if they showed up on the doorstep. No sir. It ain’t that damn easy. And you and I BOTH know that as soon as you start laying up under me again the tomfoolery will commence. And bigger than the fact that NO ONE will remotely feel sorry for you (’cause you should’ve known better), I’m just not interested. No thank you.
Call it what you want but I prefer my exs kissing my ass than being my lawfully wedded pain in the ass.

good for you…

By on January 9, 2009 in cuteness kills, tapped out, using our powers for good

I see I’m not the only one who doesn’t like it when people show up at my apartment unannounced…

Apparently,a panda bear bit the crap out of a man who jumped in his pen to retrieve a toy that had fallen over the railing at the Beijing Zoo. Daaaammmmn… I thought panda were suppossed to be friendly, social-type creatures.

But bigger than the panda with an attitude, WHY was this man able to simply HOP a little fence?? What in the world? WHY was the fence that low?

And please don’t tell me it’s so people can get up close and personal with nature. Cause THAT is not nature. Not even on a dare. THAT is a wild animal that’s been caged up AGAINST it’s will for our amusement. What would make you think they’re remotely happy to see you? Mmm-hmmm, like ELsa used to tell me- keep playin’ if you want to.

Personally, my scary behind will take a good ole American zoo with triple layers of plexiglass and the sky-high electric fence enclosure with enough voltage to shock that ass to death if a strand of hair brushes against it any day of the damn week. If and when I want so see some “nature” I’ll go chill in Central Park and watch the shirtless white boys play football in the dead of winter. That’s enough wildlife for me, thank you very much.

damn indian-givers…

By on January 8, 2009 in it's not a game out there, made for the maury show, Mitzi- all day every day, tagging out, why we as a people can't get ahead

Okay Dr. Richard Batista, you listen up. I don’t know what kinda God-complex you’re working with over there in Long Island but just in case no one around you has the god-given COMMONSENSE to keep it real with you, let me be the first.

Here is what you will NOT, I repeat, you WILL NOT be doing in 2009: Suing your ex-wife to get back the kidney that you donated to her while you two were married. NO SIR, not today, tomorrow or EVER, EVER.

Just because your ex-wife had an affair, it does not entitle you to have your kidney back. Be clear, I ain’t saying the cheating wasn’t messed up. Especially after you basically saved her life and whatnot but forreal, forreal? You need to get it TOGETHER.
This ain’t no freaking playground. You can’t get mad and snatch back your toys cause your little feelings got hurt. IDIOT.
Even if I wasn’t a transplant survivor (which I am), I’d be sucking my two front- teeth and giving you the ice cold side-eye. Yes, you and the ambulance chasing- cracker jack box degree having-lawyer that fixed his face to tell you this was a viable case. Talking ’bout you want your kidney or 1.5 million dollars. Shiiiieeeeet. I wish somebody would…

Both of ya’ll need to go sit your behinds down somewhere. Like, NOW.

ain’t no shame in the game…

By on January 7, 2009 in feedback

Alot of my poll questions come directly from conversations with friends (yes, we probably spend a lot more time than necessary talking about sex and the politics of sex). But then there are some questions that come straight out of the inappropriate/ politically incorrect corner in my mind. I’ll admit, the question, “Do you remember everyone that you’ve ever had sex with?” came out of the corner.

And I must admit, it is really impressive to learn that a whopping 80% of you guys are able to recall the names of ALL the people you’ve slept with. Most of us have been at this for more than a decade, so my guess is either you’re really good at holding out, secretly keeping a list or got the memory of a freakin’ elephant.

As for the 20% who can’t… Well lets just say, I’m not mad. Shoot, unless you’re out there having unprotected sex, who needs to remember all the names of people that in the grand scheme of life meant as much as the UPS man that drops off packages at your mom’s house?

Keep it real, don’t we all lie about the number anyway? If it’s super high, you’re gonna make it lower to avoid seeming slutty. If it’s super low, you’ve got to make it higher for anyone to believe you. Sorry kids, that’s just the breaks.

Bottom line, there are more important things to remember (like the name of the girl in the Catherine Malandrino store that can hook me up with a discount) than the guy who couldn’t get it up without wearing his favorite sweatsocks. Right?

more slaps and less time-outs…

By on January 6, 2009 in i die, i'm not ready to be a grandmother, it's in the genes, made for the maury show

Will somebody puh-lease explain to me what in the unholy-unsupervised-destined for jail-BeBe’s kids hell is going on in this world?

According to the AP, a four-year old boy in southern Ohio purposely shot his baby-sitter. Yup you read that correctly. But wait on it… the pre-schooler didn’t do it because the sitter was, oh I don’t know, physically/ sexually abusing him or something horrible like that. No, that would’ve been too much like right. This fool shot his sitter because the 18 year-old accidentally stepped on his foot!!! WTF!?!?!?!?
WHO THE HELL IS THIS KID??? Damn Scarface reincarnated? Lil’ dude isn’t even in kindergarten. He probably doesn’t even know his ABC’s or how to count past the number 20… And yet this pint-sized psychopath is popping off at the age of FOUR?? Uh-uh.

If you ask me, his parents need to be the first ones locked up under the jail from now until forever. Mmm-hmmm.
‘Cause why was there a loaded gun laying around in the crib where a four year-old can reach it? And since it’s obviously one of those households where the TV not the adults educate the children-what in the world kind of violent ass shows and video games did they expose him to?
Oh and as for that little mo-fu? His ass needs Jesus.
Damn a juvenile hall. He needs to be locked up in a monastery far, far away with jedi-master monks that can read his mind. And will KARATE CHOP THAT ASS every time he even dreams about doing something out-of-pocket.
It’s officially the end of days. Someone please pull the little red wagon around, I’m tagging out.

CATEGORIES