So I’ve been sitting here all day feeling totally unmotivated. You know, like when you just can’t get anything done? I woke up with every intention of washing up last night’s dishes, going to the gym, washing my hair, responding to the 101 emails that I receive everyday and possibly even starting to write this book that’s due on May 1st. And despite all my good intentions, the only thing I seem to be able to do is curl up in a ball on my couch and talk on the phone.
Now I admit, there are days that I suffer from delusions of grandeur where I convince myself that I am a skinny wealthy housewife who can spend all day eating Hostess Chocolate Cupcakes and watching Maury instead of being productive. But today wasn’t that day.
Turns out that today, I actually have a a legit reason for my slacker behavior- I AM FREEZING. It’s 36 degrees and I have no heat or hot water. What in the world? Of course I don’t want to type, my fingers are numb. Of course I can’t wash up the dishes or even bathe, I aint got no hot water. Basically, I’m paying over a 1K a month to be cold, stinky and unproductive. Good grief. And jsut when I was making plans to start sleeping on the kitchen floor in front of my oven doorwith the dog, the oil truck showed up. Seriously? At 5p? Don’t they know I live among Dominicans and we can’t last two secs without heat let alone all day!!! If this keeps up, I may have to go get a job.
Mitzi Moments
As you can see, a picture speaks a thousand words but I have to say, I’m going to miss the little noisemaker. Probably not as much as my slutty dog, Drama but still….
Once I got past the non-stop barking/ peeing/ all round bad behavior, Mighty was actually not that bad of a small dog to have around. And I have to say, he definately held his own against my neighbor’s pitbull. Who knew?
and considered this is a valid excuse to book a fly hotel suite, get her friends twisted on liquor and cupcakes and then flash her thigh in my pictures… And you know what? I concur. Thanks Shorty Rock!
But on a more serious note, does another girlfriend turning the big 3-0 mean I’m really an adult? ‘Cause not for nothing, I’m nowhere near having the meaning of life figured out and firmly believe in calling my mom at least twice a day for answers. And it seems like every time I turn around another friend is turning 30+, getting married or-gasp- getting knocked up. Am I the only one who feels super pressused to pull it together?
Speaking of getting my life together, I should probably mention that I’m currently featured as a talking head in BET’s ‘Top 25 Celbrity Break-Ups’. And I say this only b/c folks are always yelling at me for not keeping them updated on the latest and greatest in my work life. So there you have it, I’m on BET spewing ‘ish about celeb break-ups (which is super ironic for reasons that will remain unsaid- you do the math).
DISCLOSURE: not really sure what had happened with my hair but I do love the way my make-up and outfit look onscreen. The twins were working the usual magic in the v-neck Malandrino knit dress… LOL.
It’s official, I’m a crazy magnet. Either that or I’m a breathing example of the old adage- the road to hell is paved with good intentions. So this afternoon I decided to run into Pathmark to grab some ground beef so I can make my all time fave Friday night dish- tacos. I’m thinking, not only is cooking my food healthier than eating out, it’s a also good way to save money. Besides, it’s only one item, I should be in, out and on my way in ten minutes top. Right? Yeah, right.
Depite the fact that I sped through the fruit/ veggie section and grabbed my ground beef in a single swoop, I headed smack into a check out line 5 FOLKS DEEP. And all I can think is, ‘It’s 3.30 in the afternoon. Doesn’t anybody on 145th Street have a damn job???’ Since there was nothing I could do short of shoplift, I take a deep breath, turn on my Ipod and try to relax. Thirty minutes later (yes, as in 3-0), I’m just within striking distance- one person away. AND THEN this broad in front of me who’s been acting like she doesn’t hear her own baby crying it’s lungs out for the past half an hour pulls a bag of MIXED grapes out of her cart!!! I almost fainted. Who in the world doesn’t know that you have to separate the grapes by color and seed? It’s 2008 people, COME ON. but wait on it- then ‘ole girl starts to ARGUE with the checkout chick. Talkin’ about she always mixes her grape and how she wants to speak with a manger. At this point it has now been FORTY-FIVE minutess of waiting. I started to have visions of snatching the bag of grapes and smacking her and the snotty nose baby upside the head with it.
Omigod, all this for a pack of beef? And as I’m sure you can guess- I dont even want the stoopid tacos anymore.
As I prepare to drag my butt to the gym to continue to fight the never ending battle against my tummy and thighs, it occurs to me that today is Valentine’s Day. And aside from the well meaning texts and emails from supportive girlfriends and a possible call or two from the not so well intentioned ex-boyfriends, I’m not getting squat on this blessed Hallmark holiday. Sigh. But it’s actually okay because what I really, really, really want for V-Day, I’d probably never receive. What is it? Well since you asked, aside from two dozen roses, a funny card, diamond earrings, a BMW 6-series drop-top and a trip to Tahiti with my ten closest friends; All I really want is some Bliss FatGirlSlim cellulite cream.
Why of all unromantic things in the world would I want FatGirlSlim cellulite cream you ask?
Simple: Because there’s nothing I dislike more than diet soda/food/ shakes/ plans/anything and working out. And even if it’s not doing anything, slathering this bad boy on every day makes me feel good dammit. Which is more than I can say for excercise.
Paying my gym membership every months pains me like child support like I was Eddie kicking down Scary Spice. The sight of an elliptical machine makes my my head hurt like the photos of the pantyless tragedy that is now Britney Spears. Every sit-up makes me want to slap the taste out of some skinny chick passing me with me coordinated workout outfit. I despise pilates. And I have never, ever, ever acheived that mythical state of runners high that people insist exists. On the contrary, when I see people jogging in the park my first thought is – ‘Look at those fools running to their deaths.’ I know, I know, not nice. But if it makes you feel any better I’ve started to pray on it, literally.
Every morning, when I say my morning prayers I add a line or two about the need for self restraint around chocolate, and the desire for a miraculous warp speed increase in my metabolism. Shallow? Possibly. Honest? Definately.