Mitzi Moments

Mitzi Moments

at least folks are pro-active…

By on April 23, 2009 in feedback

How excited are we that the FDA is making the morning after pill available to 17 year-olds sans parental consent? Can we say, one less after school special? I know that Obama is busy saving the free world all day everyday but its the little stuff, like the overturning of this ridiculous rule that makes me heart the hell out of that man. Okay?

Speaking of birth control, a while ago-when I was debating switching up my method- I polled you guys about what was the preferred method of contraceptive. Just to see what everybody else was doing and if anything crucial had changed… Um yeah, not so much:
For 45%, the answer is still condoms. 30% said the pill. 12% are now using the Ring. And there’s still that adventurous (if you want to call it that) 12% who are rolling the dice with the rhythm method.
I’m not ashamed to say, I was and still remain with the 45% condom users. I guess my nerves are just too bad. I need to see the peen all wrapped up before I feel completely comfortable getting my swerve on. And what with the resurgence of old school, Woodstock-esque STDs like gonorrhea, chlamydia and syphilis? Uh-uh, I’d rather not have to explain to Dr. Greene what had happened after all the lectures she’s delivered about safe sex during my annual check-up.

I’ve thought long and hard about the pill. I mean with all the new options, who wouldn’t like to have a period every 3 months or possibly not at all? But at 33, it just seems a little late to be jumping on this band wagon. I mean, I want to at least pretend like I’m going to get married and knocked up by the age of 36 (got to speak it into being, right?). Not to mention, who can really afford to gain the extra pounds, acne or facial hair? It’s hard enough out here for a girl as it is without having to do battle with hairs on my chest or hanging from my chinny-chin chin.

Got to say, I’ve heard mixed reviews about the ring. On one hand I have a homegirl who SWEARS by it. and then I’ve heard that it can get moved around… Which in addition to being annoying, wouldn’t abode well for me and the type of guys I prefer to have relations with (uh-huh, you do the math). Not to mention, like the pill there’s that whole hormone thingy. Call me vain but I work damn hard for the basic results. Mama don’t want no extra work, thank you very much.
Oh and as for the rhythm? Until there’s a ring on it AND contracts signed, I won’t know nothing about this one right here. Lord knows, my heart can’t take it when the period is late and I know I don’t have anything to worry about. Can you imagine? I’d be living in a perpetual state of fear. Running to the bathroom every five minutes like I was a80 year old woman with a bladder control issue. Hilarious.

my type of mom…

By on April 22, 2009 in desperate cry for help, it ain't easy, made for the maury show, tagging out, work it white girl

Okay seriously? White women are not , I repeat, they ARE NOT handling the stress of the recession well AT ALL!

What you know about a prominent attorney Park Avenue attorney/ well-to-do Westchester mom getting so sick & tired of her pre-teen daughters’ bickering that she kicked BOTH of their asses out of the car and drove the hell off???

Like seriously? Picture this frazzled white woman (see photo), pulling over to the side of the road in her expensive ass SUV/car and screaming at the top of her lungs- “BOTH OF YA’LL LIL’ GOOD-FOR-NUTHIN’ HEIFERS GET THE HELL OUTTA MY CAR!!!”

OMG, I can’t even breathe I’m laughing so hard right now. Bump that, I’m WHEEZING like a damn asthmatic!!! Cause you know, that right there is some end-of-the-line, to-hell-with-timeout, I’m-kickin’-you-out -I-don’t-kill-ya’ll-dead type ish!

Wait on it tho… While the 12 year-old was able to run, catch up with mom’s car at the next light and beg her way back in; not so much for the little sister. That one got left behind

But instead of carrying her ass home (like any halfway intelligent Black kid would’ve done), the 10 year-old went dry snitching to the cops. And when Ma-Dukes came to pick her up from the station, the po-po arrested that ass for endangering the welfare of a child.

Jesus take the wheel, I am DONE.

in the name of the father…

By on April 22, 2009 in going to hell in a handbasket, keep hope alive, pocket full of dirty tissue

Considering how flawed modern day society’s moral compass has become, it must be extremely difficult to spread the Good Word. In all fairness, preachers pastors, priests, nuns and all members of the clergy probably do twice as much just to make half the impact. But err-um, not for nothing does it really take a $600K compensation package to get the job done? Really?

Apparently the new senior pastor at Riverside Church thinks so. And it turns out, as of this Sunday the good Pastor Braxton will be receiving:

-$250,000 in salary.
-$11,500 monthly housing allowance.
-Private school tuition for his child.
-A full-time maid.
-Entertainment, travel and “professional development” allowances.
-Pension and life insurance benefits.
-An equity allowance for him to save up to buy a home.

Far be it from me to judge who Jesus selects to be his shepard but I’m just saying- $250K base salary? A full time maid? Entertainment and travel allowance? In the midst of a global recession? Shouldn’t his ass be home, sitting still, reading the Bible looking for a sign?
Uh-uh, something just ain’t clean in the milk.

For this amount of money, I fully expect to hear about miracles popping off every single week. And not no play-play miracles either! I want reports of cripples walking, the blind being able to see and bigger than all that; good-looking, college-educated, SINGLE black men filling up the pews like it’s front row seats at a Jay-Z concert. Can I get an amen?

‘Cause as far as I’m concerned, the moment Pastor Braxton starts turning water into $20 bills, is the only day he should receive a $600k package for doing the Lord’s work. Till then, I’m gonna have to pray on it.
Happy Earth Day ya’ll!

i’ll give you somethin’ to cry about…

By on April 21, 2009 in it ain't easy, Mitzi- all day every day, pocket full of dirty tissue, using our powers for good

I hate the first day of my period. Okay, perhaps hate is a strong word. Let me rephrase that: I really dislike the first day of my period.

Every single time without fail, I’ll wake up on said morning with the starving African orphan-esque bloated belly, killer lower back pain and feeling extra extra evil. Like it’s so not a game for those initial minutes after the wake-up. All the way up until I finally figure that ‘duh, I got my period! That’s what all the drama and confusion is about!!’

Thankfully, I generally wake up alone. So, time permitting, I’ll promptly proceed to lay around in the bed, tossing from side to side, feeling sorry for myself and watching things that make me cry like Steel Magnolias/ the Christian the Lion youtube video for about half a day or at least until I remember those times when the period was late… ‘Cause please believe, nothing makes a woman pull it together and be grateful for a little cramp more than the memory of the times you had to commence the prayer circle and send the bloodhounds out to find it.

Uh-huh… Jesus be the 25th day.

But wait on it… so this morning before I could even get in a good hour of the whole ‘woah is Mitzi on her period’, I noticed an online article about a white woman in England who’s allergic to WATER. Can you imagine? Apparently Michaela Dutton has a rare allergy to water called aquagenic urticaria. Therefore anytime her skin gets wet, she breaks out in a painful rash!! YIKES!

Mind you, the post is 100% PC and solely focuses on the fact that this poor woman can’t even hold her own son because his sweat hurts her so much. Which I will definitely agree, is a heartbreaking issue. But you wanna know what I think is really, really the most tragic aspect of this situation? This woman CAN’T BATHE. For her entire life, she’s just been STINK.

I mean think about it. How can she possible take a shower? EVER? She busy talking about “people don’t come around anymore because they think I’m contagious.” No my dear, folks don’t come around cause you SMELL. I can’t.

Between this and the 22 year-old Boston University medical student killing Craigslist prostitutes in hotels for thrills, I had to cut the pity party short. My life is too damn good. Onward my people.

it’s all about the cover-up…

By on April 20, 2009 in cuteness kills, keep hope alive, Mitzi- all day every day, tagging out, too old for the road

Now that the weather is attempting to warm up and we’re in the final stretch of whatever damage control folks will actually accomplish before open-toe season begins, it’s time to deal with the least appealing aspect of the change of season: the new bikini dilemma.

Uuuggh, can I tell you? I ABHORE (yes, breaking out the big GRE words folks) shopping for new bathing suits. Like, seriously? I can by new tanks tops, sundresses and sandals all day every day, but say the word two-piece and I literally wanna throw-up in my mouth. And it doesn’t matter how much I physically or mentally prepare, trying to find a swimsuit that can simultaneously hide all the lumps and bumps yet still qualify as sexy is like water torture.

Honestly, I think the root of problem is that every year, my overall body shape changes- sometimes for the better, most times not. Therefore, the hella cute string bikini style that might’ve been the answer last season, looks nothing but cra-razy this time around. And please, don’t even get me started on those damn boy short bottoms that cut dead in the middle of the saddle bag? No maam, nobody needs that AT ALL.

And call me cheap but the thought of spending damn near a $150 of bullshit sized piece of material that’s only going to hightlight the areas of my body that I’m most insecure about is beyond painful.

So if you see me walking out of Bloomies looking dazed and confused ike I someone just kicked me in the neck, you know what the deal is. There’s nothing to say, just pray.

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