ain't enough dirty drawers in the world...

See now I was planning to write today's post about the two old ass Roman Catholic priests in Miami that got caught stealing almost $8 million from their church collection plates. Umm-hmmm, just like that. Apparently the former Fathers John Skehan and Francis Guinan were using the loot to purchase real estate, travel, rare coins and wait on it... girlfriends. Seriously? Girlfriends??!!

See what I mean about that damn viagra? THE DEVIL.

But then I read about the craziness that just popped off in Milton, MA and I LITERALLY had to pause. Read the story twice. And pray. Cause you know what? When Black folks start recreating Killing Fields/ Slasher Film/ Trailer Trash-esque type massacres it's time for us all to go sit down and have a word with the big man upstairs.

Apparently 23 year-old Kerby Revelus was feeling some kind of ways from a fistfight that he got into last Friday night. So being all non-directional, two days later he turned that angst on his overacheiving 17 year-old sister and STABBED her to death. Next, this looney tunes negro proceeded to DECAPITATE his little 5 year-old sister. Mind you, the little girl just celebrated her fifth bday 24-hours before. Then, as he attempted to SLICE the third and final sister to pieces, the police rushed in and shot him dead on the spot. But the real tragedy? The entire time this tom foolery was popping off, their poor unsuspecting mother was downstairs in the basement doing laundry. Can you even imagine?

Light a candle, I'm done.

not so fast with the co-sign...

Okay don't nobody dislike stank ass folks more than the kid. Forreal, forrreal. For as long as I can remember, my sense of smell has been extremely heightened. Honestly, I believe it has a lot to do with the fact that I'm five foot flat a.k.a armpit level.  So where as the odor has to rise to meet a taller person's nose, that mess just smacks me dead in the face. 

So you'd think that the announcement of this new stink-free underwear that Japanese astronauts are testing out in space would make Mitzi a very happy girl. But then again...

I'm not sure about folks being able to run around in the same pair of drawers for days at a time... Just because it don't stink that doesn't make you any less dirty.  

And not for nothing, I depend on my sense of smell to help me decide when the hell to keep it moving. Like, no sir don't let the fly shoes fool you.  that chick right there ain't put on deodorant OR take a shower today! And let's not even talk about all the implications for those still playing the quickie hook-up game... humph, humph, humph.

Jesus be the bacteria that grows in dark places. Cause I sure the hell don't want it.

everybody's wearing a french roll w/ tendrils...

I was in the grocery store last night picking up some odds and ends when I noticed that New York Magazine's 2009 Weddings issue has a BLACK bride on the cover!!  Now you know... I almost crapped in my pants. 

'Cause not for nothing, the way previous issues have blatantly excluded any and all images of African-Americans, I wasn't so sure they knew that Black folks actually getting married in New York City too. Please feel free to insert your own side-eye at New York Mag too.

But all that excitement just made me think about another old poll question that I posted and never discussed with you guys... How important is having an actual wedding ceremony?

Interesting, 6% said you don't want one, 56% responded that you could give or take it and for the final 36% its an absolute must.

Honestly, I don't know where I stand on this one anymore. There are two things I live for: getting dressed up and throwing parties. So naturally I've always dreamed of a ridiculously huge wedding with a reception that lasts until the wee hours of the morning. 

And the Lord knows, I was born to be a bridezilla. I can see it now, making my girls wear orange taffeta dresses in the dead of summer and losing my shit over the not finding the perfect pair of Loubotins to wear under the big poofy dress at the reception... No sir, I'm just kidding!

But on the other hand, the more and more I listen to my friends complain about the cost of planning a their weddings and watch how miserable it makes everybody involved, the more I'm starting to considert putting that celebrity DJ retainer towards a down payment on a big ole house on the hill instead. 

Like Elsa always says, aint no shame in the City Hall game. And quietly, I could always throw a big party celebrating the signing of the certificate in my manse if I play my cards right.

So I guess well see. 

who needs scary movies...

Lord haf mercy, mama gettin' old!

So I ventured out to Bungalow 8 last night to help my homegirl DJ Kiss celebrate her bday and surprise engagement to her man, Mos (YEAH KISS!!) And while I LOVE , LOVE , LOVE getting dressed up and celebrating special occasions w the crew... I gotta tell you, it sure ain't as easy to do the whole dancing till 3am on a weeknight stroll no more. No maam. When I woke up this morning, I felt like a mack truck had rolled over, stopped and reversed over every part of my body from the top of the head to the bottoms of my feet. Just a mess.

And I'm not going to even try to explain how hard it was to wrap my head around the story I just read about the 31-year-old Indonesian man who was mauled to death by two kimono dragon lizards! What in the world??

So basically, homeboy is professional fruit picker (err-um, who knew those even existed?). And he's up in some sugar-apple tree doing what he does best. Then for whatever reason, poor thing falls off of the godforsaken tree and the lizards who just happen to be chilling at the bottom of the tree ATTACK!!! They bit the shit outta his hands, body, legs and neck. Mmm-hmm...

Apparently, the reptiles (which can grow up to 10 feet long and weigh damn near 150 pounds) have shark-like serrated teeth. And addition to the cuts, the bite can be deadly because its saliva contains roughly 50 different known bacteria strains. Eeeewwaa!! So dirty!

Seriously? If this ain't some ole cracked-out-Wes-Craven-sci-fi-animals gone-wild-type mess I don't know what it is. Good freakin' luck.

viagra is the devil...

Hold up, wait a minute! What you know about two old ass women coming to blows in the middle of the street over some 72-year-old piece a man?!?!?!

According to the police report filed by 78-year-old (yes, as in 7-8) Edith Mitchell: she was chillin' in a car with her boyfriend of two years when some unnamed 73-year-old woman rolled up popping junk about that being her man and started punching poor Edith in the head!!! Mm-hmm, straight thumped her out.


Now you know, Edith ain't get to be 78-years-old by mistake so she carried her ass in the crib, grabbed her shotgun and came out guns a-blazing on some old school western, let's get it poppin' bee-yatch type nonsense...

Unfortunately, the side chick was a little quicker on her feet than good 'ole Edith. Apparently she snatched the shotgun from Edith and fired a shot. (Damn, just like that.) Thankfully, she missed Big E and no one else was fatally injured. Um, feel free to pick your face off the floor right now.


Okay seriously? There are sosososo many things wrong with this situation, I don't even know where to begin. Forget the fact that there were two geriatric females slap boxing in the street. Lemme ask you this, where the hell was the alledged boyfriend when all this craziness was happening?? What, was he too old to get involved? And how in the world do you explain to your kids and GRANDkids what had happened to you? Uh-uh, I can't.

Jesus come get your bey-bey kids...

just be sure to wrap it up...

Some time ago, I posted the poll question: Have you ever suspected that a friend's boyfriend might like boys too?

And while a precious 44% claim to have never noticed, don't you know 55% of you said unfortunately yes?!?!?! Good grief. How heartbreaking is that? And you know a percentage like that only begs the question, should you say something? Humph, lemme tell you something...

I think the most important rule to being a good friend is knowing when to speak and when to mind ya bidness. Yeah, and I meant it just the way you read it: 1-800-Mind Ya Damn Bidness!

Serious bodily harm or cold, hard, I-caught-that-fa la la ing-fool-on-my-camera-phone withstanding, my personal motto is: If you like it, I love it. If you love it, I adore it. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart, I don't care how tight we are I'm so not the one to get involved... Why?

Certainly not because I don't care about you. Because I honestly do. I love all of the women in my select circle of friends. And more than anything, I want each and everyone to win. In fact, I want everyone I know to get exactly what they want in life. Now if that includes a good for nothing partner who's embarassing the shit outta you- so be it.

Listen- If you wanna front like you don't know he's playing a role every time he opens his glossy lips, me either. If you wanna pretend that you don't see him rolling his neck and sucking his teeth harder then our whole crew, I'm the black Helen Keller. If you wanna act like you don't understand that those couple of years he spent upstate figuring out what he wanted out of life was really inside of a prison getting bent over by Big Bob, I'll turn off the reruns of Oz when you guys come over. If you choose to ignore the extra hard "url" everytime he says, 'Guuuurrrl please.' So be it. I keep earplugs in my purse at all times anyway.

Cause when the shit hits the fan, ain't nobody blaming Mitzi for breaking up their happy home. Believe that.

you know you'd TIVO it too...

Amy Winehouse's father Mitch released a statement calling his lil' pride & joy a "stupid girl" for claiming to still love her estranged husband/ partner-in-crack Blake Fielderman. While I applaud him for what I assume to be the pinktoe version of tough love (cause you know a black father would've been beat her ass back into rehab about five years ago when the problem first started), don't you think we're past the point of name calling?

I mean, from what I can see, the only thing seperating Amy from the homeless lady on the train that smells of pee and old period blood is a residual check. No offense.

Personally, I think Poppa Winehouse should call Key-Key Cole's mom Frankie and ask her to help the family stage an intervention. Cause Lord knows Frankie's got the inside track on how to deal with drug drama.

And call me selfish but I really, really hope they'll turn the whole thing into a reality show. You something like, Saving Amy-The Day the Winehouse Shut Down. Mmm-hmm, and then the world would finally get to see what happens to that dusty beehive when they toss her 10 pound ass into shower. Shoot, I'll bet my lucky drawers that trainwreck would be bigger than Flavor of Love season 1!!

Sigh. Well, until the season premiere, check out the before and after Amy photo gallery attached to the article about Poppa Winehouse's quote. So disturbing.

In fact, I may have just thrown up in my mouth. Excuse me please.

consider my sweat your gift...

As of today there are t-minus 67 days until Toya's super sexy 2nd wedding. And since my lil mini-me has decided that she wants her bridesmads to wear specially designed super short, very low-cut, fitted cocktail dresses, Operation Pull-It-Together is in full effect.

First, there were three weeks of the crazy 6.30a bootcamp workout to jump start the mission. Although I've done bootcamp in the past, that sure didn't make going back remotely easier. Real talk? I still don't know how I managed to wake up and get out of my house by 6.10am 4-days a week. 'Cause if you don't know anything else about me, please understand this: I am not the one for the early mornings. But praise god, somehow we made it through. And now, I've committed to daily hot yoga and at least 4 days of cardio at the gym.

Okay, bump what you heard about feeling more relaxed, detoxed and zen-like after bikram yoga. I'm gonna keep it real- that b.s. is kicking my ass coming and going. Seriously? I feel like 2 cents. From my toenails to my scalp, every inch of my body hurts. I can barely make it home before falling on my face. Ain't nothing relaxed, or zen-like about me. And let's not even talk about the gym... OMG, this morning I was on the elliptical machine for 15 minutes sweating and heaving louder than the 350lb woman on the machine next to me. Mind you, my resistance level was only 5. WTF?

So the next time you wanna know why I'm not thrilled to be in one of my very closest friend's wedding, lemme tell you- it's not the money on a dress I can only wear to a club in Miami or Vegas. It's not the hours of my life lost stuffing envelopes with save-the-date cards. Or even the big ass hole homegirl has talked in my head with all the wedding day drama. Nope, all that is water under the bridge. The core issue is the damage control.

It's trying to find a waistline that I haven't seen since the summer of '08. It's eating an orange when what I really want is a warm chocolate chip cookie (or two). It's the bars of deordorant that I'm going through trying to hide the constant state of stink I find myself in. Dammit, I'm tapped out!

For the record, I will so not be offended if any of my peeps decide that they don't want to be in my wedding (whenever the hell that actually happens) because they're soft and squishy. Just keep it real. Not only will I understand, I promise to save you a second slice of the cake.

i'd rather cut off cable...

So apparently the sale of sex toys is down in France.

Accordimg to the Reuters (cause no, I don't make this foolishness up) "at 'Big Eropolis,' an erotic fair that opened on Friday near Paris and bills itself as the biggest of its kind in the world, attendance was healthy but stall owners said customers were not spending as much as in previous years. " So basically what you're telling me is that nowadays people can only afford to buy one Mandigo sized dildo as opposed to the dido, body paint, handcuffs, vibrating ring and so on?

It's offical, times are hard my people.

its my two cents...

On the forreal, forreal, undearneath all the sarcasm and side-eye, I'm a total romantic at heart. Like, I want to be wined, dined, swept off my feet, fall head-over-heels in love and spend the rest of my life acting a fool over how good my man is to me.

Now then, in my quest to find the man that makes all the above and then some happen, I've come to accept (begrudgingly) that I might actually have to look outside of the island of Manhatttan. And I'm not even talking Hobeoken, NJ here. What if you finally meet 'The One' and he/she lives in oh I don't know, let's say.... Japan? Mmm-hmmm, Konichiwa bitches!

If the individual said, " I love you. Come be with me. Don't worry, I got you." Could you just pack it up, kiss the 'rents and bounce, WITHOUT a job in place??

I'm not gonna say great minds think alike BUT I'm definately rolling with the 69% who answered the poll question with a resounding 'ain't no way.' As much as I love the idea of loving you, my nerves are too bad for all that believe in the dream nonsense... especially during this so-called recession (cause we're no longer claiming it). I'm so not about to be left trying to piece my life back together this late in the game because I pressed pause on my financial independance when I joined your squad. Oh hell naw, it's too real in field. And I dont wanna have to call my cousin to come kick your ass cause negroes wanna play those "you can only take what you came" with games." Uh-uh no thank you.

As for the 30% who are down for whatever and willing to move without a second thought, I don't know what to say... On one hand, I applaud you for the faith and courage to still believe in happily ever after despite the dismal dating realities our generation faces. But please believe, I'm already rolling my eyes in anticipation of the day I receive the "Mitzi puh-lease come get me, this fool is trippin'" call. Yeah, I said it. Cause I don't care if dude (or the female) is ballin' outta control, at some point he's gonna trip and mention the fact that he's carrying you. And if you're any friend of mine, it will pop off. And then what?

Granted, I'm not saying that I won't eventually get my ducks in a row and come... I'm a true believer that when the right person comes around, it only makes sense to go hard. But I ain't going no harder than my pockets will allow. Forreal, forreal.

they're crying in trailer parks nationwide...

Lookey, lookey here- guess which unwed teenage mom just called off her farce of an engagement? Ding, ding, ding- you guessed it: worthless ass Bristol Palin aka Patron Saint of Poor White Teenage Trash.

As if anyone was surprised. From day one poor Levi Johnston has worn the blatant 'woah is me, I'm just an innocent teenage redneck. How in the moose hunting- Budweiser drinking hell did I mess around and knock up my jump-off' expression on his big, flat, playdough face. Walking from press opt to press opt like the only thing he wanted for Xmas was a paternity test... Damn shame. I'm just glad homeboy finally smartened up and bizz-ounced.


Of course, can't be mad at Bristol for trying to spin the breakup. Releasing the crazy statement about "unnamed people trying to take advantage of her family's fame" as the reason why things fell apart. Yeah, okay honey bunny. Why don't you go sit your special behind down and look at Russia?

negroes and flies...

Between preparing for, hosting and recovering from the BFF and baby's visit, I've been a tad out the loop. Which is the reason, I'm just now getting around to reading the story about the recently released text messages that stoopid ass Kwame Kilpatrick sent out on his government issued cell phone. And to be quite honest, we might all cringe at the arrogance of his behavior but on the low, low...


What you know about Kwame killin' them hoes PROPER?

According to the court documents, there were 682 pages of text messages sent! Um excuse me, who got time to send that many damn text messages? Am I the only one who wants to know when the hell was this man ever WORKING??

Beyond the ridiculous number of texts, how 'bout what they actually said? In one breath he tells Christine Beatty ('ole girl that's still locked up behind this mess, while his ass was released early) that she is the "wind beneath my wings." But like three exchanges later, he wants her "to talk to me while I do you. Tell me to lick faster, softer, higher, lower, etc." Okay, perhaps I'm a little slow, but how you go from quoting Bette Midler to talkin nasty??


Then wait on it... 10 messages later, he's telling the 2nd sidechick, Natasha Dooley that "my dick needs to be sucked. It's been a while." Oh yeah? Is that so Mayor Kilpatrick?


Granted, while all the above foolishness is popping off, the First Lady a.k.a Ms. I-Will-Beat A-Hoe's-Butt-in-the-Mayoral -Office-If-I-Catch-U-Screwing-My-Husband inquires about the status of her Navigator. Jesus haf mercy.

Tyler Perry come get the script to your next straight to DVD movie!

Sidenote: Apparently, Kwame is now suing SkyTel for releasing the text messages. Umm-hmm... Talking about he wants $100 million for the violation of his privacy and constitutional rights. I swear I couldn't make this up if I wanted to...

off to see the little mermaid...

So after much ado, Shayla and Sklylar Ann Marie (a.k.a Sam) arrived for Sam's first 'Big Girl' trip to New York. YIPPIE!!! I am thrilled beyond belief to have the BFF around.

But for the record, as much as I love, love, love me some Sam; I am sososo clear that everybody (specifically yours truly) ain't able. Who knew so many questions can be asked in the span on of day? Damn that, one minute? Sam's energy level is unbelieveable. She's like a non-stop Energizer bunny- going, going, and still going. For the record, hell hath no fury like a four year-old without her midday nap.

What is most amazing to me is how calm Shayla is about everything. Oh, you fell down? No problem, just get up. Oh, you want to be carried up and down steps? Up you go. Oh, you want to scream/ whisper the same secret 30 times in my ear? Feel free. I promise you she was calmer than a Jedi Master- unforreal.

And to think that crazy woman has 14 children and 0 help??? Sheeeit. Good luck.

remember the food stamp...

Oh weee! You know the recession is real when the rich folks start to get nervous. Mmm-hmmm...

Ain't nothing more telling than billionaire investor Warren Buffet on CNBC talkin' bout, "the economy fell off a cliff." Oh yeah? And this is new to you? Wow, must be nice to be so insulated...

But the good news is my people, we are built for this. Yes sir.

Because unlike the pinktoes who are just now trying to figure out the value of a discount and what it means to cut corners, me nd my mine been nigga-rigging the hook-up for years. And everbody and they mama knows how to make a dollar outta fifteen cents. Word up.

1-800-Stay Focused!

put your lighters in the air...

Yo, has it really been TWELVE Years since Biggie was murdered??? My God, that's so crazy to me...

Okay seriously? I LOVE me some Notorious B.I.G. I mean to say, I memorized the lyrics to every single song and interlude on Ready To Die in two freaking days. Mind you, I couldn't remember formula the first to save my ass from getting a C- in the freshman Chem class that made difference between me going to med school and becoming an English major but Gimme The Loot? Machine Gun Funk? Juicy??? Man listen... I'm not even going to discuss Life After Death cause I might start to tear up. I just makes no sense.

And nowadays we sit here and listen to wack ass rappers like Soulja Boy go double platinum. Good grief.

somebody needs to smack fire out that lil boy...

So there I was minding my business trying to read up on this new nine minute miracle cellulite cream (that quietly, I'm sooo about to spend a $100 dollars on as soon as this recession ends) when I heard about the Chris Brown/ Rihanna beatdown incident report. And I have to tell you, after reading the entire report- this is so not okay.

Dude, Chris Brown beat Rihanna like she was a straight up stranger. Like forreal, forreal? Bouncing her head off of the car window, punching her in the eye, the head, the arm, leg AND then biting her? What in the hell? Did he momnetarily lose his mind and confuse for a car jacker? I'm just saying... Cause I just can't comprehend what in the unholy domestic violence hell this punkass 19 year old was thinking when he threatened to "really beat your ass when we get home!" Word? Forget what you heard, that little dancing fool needs to go sitdown in a jail for at least six months to think about what he did to the woman he's steady professing to love.

Oh and no Kanye et al, I do not think he deserves another chance. At all. So be clear, if I hear any of ya'll enabling ass celebs come out and support him, I'm boycotting you too.

And I intend to start the prayer vigil for Rih-Rih and her sense of self-worth ASAP... cause clearly despite all the fame and money, there's something missing in her life. And whatever it is, it compells her to return to a relationship w/ a man who beat that ass like a dude because HIS MESSY BEHIND got caught with the inapropriate 3-page text from the sidechick. Can I get an amen?

can't stop, won't stop...

And the Obama momentum continues...

On Thursday, February 12, 2009 Captain Rachelle Jones (on the left), First Officer Stephanie Grant (right), and their two flight attendents Robin Rogers and Diana Galloway made history as the very first all African American female flight crew! The dope foursome operated Atlantic Southeast Airlines flight 5202 from Atlanta toNashville and flight 5106 from Nashville back to Atlanta.

In the immortal words of Puff Daddy- Take That, Take That!

there are no words...

Hmmm... so do you remember when that videotape of a 2 year-old girl being raped by a grown ass 34 year-old man mysteriously popped up in the Vegas desert about two years ago ? It was around the time all those little girls were being kidnapped and murdered across the country... and there was the intense nationwide manhunt for the dirty looking white dude with greasy hair and those nasty looking striped bed sheets?

Then when the authorities finally located the all the parties involved it was real nightmare operation- something like at the time, the girl's mom was broke and homeless. So they were crashing at some random girlfriend's crib for a couple of weeks. The guy, Chester Arthur Stiles was the friend's trifling live-in boyfriend and he raped the baby while the mom and the friend were out kicking it. Or something real 'Gone Baby Gone/ trailer-trashy mess like that...

Anyhoo, don't ask me why I taught this sicko was already locked up under a jail but apparently he was just sentenced yesterday afternoon. Mmm-hmm, dude is looking at 22 felonies that carry multiple life prison terms in addition to an upcoming federal trial for producing child pornography that when he's found guilty will carry a sentence of 15 to 30 years. Good luck.

You know, if they're not gonna send Chester the Molester back to God for a do-over ('cause some folks really do need their interventions directly from the Big Homie) then I really hope they release his ass in to general population. NO, not because I want to see him tortured (although that is definitely a bonus) but rather because this is NOT where I want to see my tax dollars at work. I don't want this scumbag to have a private cell, separate meals, take a shower at a different time, scratch his balls, not one damn thing different from all the rest of the folks I'm already supporting.

like chewing foil....

Soooooo, did ANYONE enjoy the premiere of Harlem Heights last night? Anyone, anyone, anyone? No seriously. Cause I swear 'fore God, that was nothing short of a complete waste of 52 minutes in my life. And the fact that I stayed up well past the 9.30p bootcamp bedtime makes it just THAT much more upsetting...

Granted, I am VERY proud of my fellow FAMU alum Randolph Stiurrup, who co-created and executive produced the project. I know it was a very long road and I certainly hope to see many additional projects from my fellow Rattler. But let's keep it all the way real...

Was that not the slowest paced reality show like EVER? The whole thing felt like water torture. I mean, exactly how these kids are supossed to be part of the same crew when they clearly don't know and/ or hate each other??? Cause there's stretching the truth and then there's straight up lying. And the birthday party with 15 people in Covo's big empty room. I can't...

Not for nothing, each time Landon swirled his little neck around all I could think was, 'is this fool high? Or gay? Or both?' Mmm-hmm. Note to the big chick from down south who fell out when Obama won... will you please settle down and stop being the bull in a china shop? You ain't scurred of nobody- we get it. Next. Pierre and Christian as Harlem's sexy 'it' boys? Yawn. Oh and good Jesus, if BET doesn't hire better writers for back-stabbing ass Bridget's voiceovers I gonna have to duct tape her mouth closed.

Honestly, the only characters worth watching are: 1)corner boy turned wanna-be community activist Jason (that is as long as his mouth was closed.... As soon as he speaks my nerves get bad. I want you to conjugate some verbs every once in a while, okay honey?) and 2) desperately clinging to my 15 minutes of fame Brook (esp the scene where she was trying on clothes in the N Boutique. How you gonna be the shit talking flychick while you're wearing the blatantly mismatched drawers??)

Although I did love the janky KFC ad. Why? Cause that pretty much summed the entire show up- straight tomfoolery.

party over here...

Can I tell you? I love me some snow. Okay wait, let me be a tad more specific- I do not love cold weather, dirty slush, treacherous driving conditions, or the stink in the subways that inevitably accompany a snowstorm BUT I do love me some winterwonderland-esque snow days. Sigh.

And guess what? This blissful day right here is THAT much better because super dope journalist/editor Juleyka Lantigua (if you don't know the byline you better get to googling), included me in her latest Republica Update blog post "Afro-Latinas to Celebrate During Black History Month"!!!

Yes maam, I'm all up on there with Rosario Dawson, Gina Torres and even Rita Marley. Mmm-hmm, betcha didn't know good ole Rita was Cuban, did ya?

Take notes and feel free to spread the good news...

too much time and money...

Err-um, can someone please explain to me WHY a bra for men has become the hottest selling men's underwear item on a new Japanese lingerie e-commerce site?

No forreal, forreal. I mean, those of us who have had the pleasure of visiting Japan or shoot, even strolling around Soho on a sunny Sat will agree that young Japanese women and men tend to be a little more... How shall I put it? Um, fashion forward in their clothing combo choices than most? But this right here is taking it to the limit.

Puh-lease watch this Reuters video report. How crazy does this man sound, talking about he likes the tightness and the feel? Lord...

Jesus ring the bell, I'm tagging out.