u and your 54 followers...

O-M-G! Just finished reading a story about a Sports Illustrated writer that decided to track down a couple of the people that left him extremely nasty, personal, online comments (including a picture of hard core porn) in response to an article he wrote. Check it out HERE.

HEE-LARIOUS.

Talking about, when the first guy answered the phone and realized it was the sports writer he had just cussed out and sent an x-rated picture- cause homeboy really did call both commenters on their home phones- it was an ENTIRELY different story than the crude, profanity filled tirades they had written online:

"Without invisibility or the support of his 54 Twitter followers or the superhuman powers supplied by a warm keyboard, Matt was meek and apologetic. 'I was just trying to get a rise out of you," he said. "You're a known sports writer, and I thought it was cool. That's all. I never meant for it to reach this point.'"

Or wait on it.. the one who still lives at home with his freaking mother:

"... along with contacting Matt, I also tracked down Andy, a 23-year-old aspiring writer who tweeted of me: "jeff Pearlman and billy madison share an intelligence quotient (because jeff Pearlman is a f---ing retard)."

When I dialed a number I found for Andy, his mother answered. (I admit, this brought me great delight.) Andy was even more apologetic than Matt..."

Uh huh, I'll bet.

*falls out laughing*

Now don't get me wrong, everyone is entitled to an opinion. And you're absolutely free to comment on/disagree with any and everything I publish. (In fact, hearing a different side of the story makes me more informed.) So please share. But there's a HUGE difference between disagreeing and calling names/sending pornographic images to illustrate your disdain.

DEAD FISH EYES

So lesson of the day for all the internet thugs runnin' amuck & poppin' ish from behind your new iPads: The keyboard will only protect you so far.

Lames.

another reason to support hbcus....

Running out the door this morning but I had to take a moment and give a shout out to the 5 brilliant Columbia students that were arrested yesterday afternoon in the wake of a huge undercover narcotics operation: (from left) Stephan Vincenzo, Michael Wymbs, Chris Coles, Adam Klein and Harrison David .

Way to use your intelligence, access and priviledge for a whole bunch of nothing. Absolutely NOTHING.

Yeah... My fave is Harrison talking about, he HAD to do it because his father wouldn't pay his tuition. Word? And the concept of a student loan and part-time job never, ever, ever crossed his mind, huh? Oh okay, just checking.

BLANK STARE

All of ya'll are a bunch of freaking idiots. Instead of graduation, now you're looking at serious Fed time. Good. Luck.

PS. Special kudos to the Chris Coles. There's always a confused one in the bunch. Your poor parents... this is NOT what they signed on for when they sent their little Black boy to a such a prestigious Ivy League University.

like bam, bam, bam, bam...

So naturally as soon my to-do list becomes longer than Kim Zolciak's ratty hair extensions, I immediately try to find creative ways to procrastinate. And this morning's tomfoolery of choice was purging my iTunes Library. Why? Well because every once in a while, a girl's gotta delete some worthless Lloyd Banks nonsense to make room for some even more triflin' Key$sha crap on her iPod.

Don't judge me.

So anyhoo, in the midst of squandering precious periods of productivity, I came across an oldie-but-goodie that made me truly reflect on the type of music I've been shaking my behind to over the years: The Ying Yang Twins' single, Wait (a.k.a. The Whisper Song).

Yo, was this craziness really a chart topping song? Forreal? Profanity-laced lyrics hoarsely whispered by two men who I wouldn't want to shake hands with let alone "beat the pussy up"? SMH. I Can't.

*swandives into the shallow end of the pool*

Oh and the worst part? As SOON as I pressed play my hips involuntarily started to twerk a lil' something. Sigh. I hate myself.

Lord forgive us for our questionable musical taste. We know not what a dope beat will do. In the name of trashy hip-hop, stripper theme songs & the come-up of ugly men everywhere... Amen.

and kiss my ass puh-lease...

My goodness, rainy Fridays are a drag. I thank God everyday for the ignorance that is YouTube. Without it, I just don't know how I'd ever make it thru. Okay?

Now I first heard about the According to "ME" Cadillac Kimberly vlog series immediately after the Eddie Long scandal broke. But it wasn't until I saw THIS video (thank you Michael) that I truly became a fan. Yes, the topic may be a bit old (Fantasia & T.I's re-arrest) but homegirl's hilarity is still fresh to death.

Enjoy.

why i hate pretty ricky...

Awww, remember ABC?

Not for nothing, when 'Iesha' hit the radio them lil' boys were like the hottest thing since sliced bread. Jumping around all over the place, wearin' bedazzled overalls with no shirts on, doing one-handed push-ups, talking about how they met this cutie with a bootie at the playground. Mmm-hmm... Oh and please don't front like we weren't ALL trying to learn every step of their dances including Red's backflips.

Too funny.

Every time I see these little knuckleheads on the train breakdancing for dollars, I'm reminded of the group. Sigh. I wonder where they are now... Back in Atlantic City? Fingers crossed, they saved some of that 2-hit wonder money for college. I'd sure hate to find out they were still chillin' at the playground....

*blank stare*

blood on the dancefloor...

Never thought I'd utter this sentence but, it sure is a good day to be Mike Tyson.

Okay, okay maybe good is a bit of a stretch since dude is already scheduled to head back to court in 2010 for the shenanigans with the paparazzi a couple of months ago. But something tells me that if the former champ read yesterday's New York Post (or should I say, had someone read it to him), he probably enjoyed a bit of a chuckle.

'Yes sir because apparently, that whole 'man-biting-man-and-ripping-flesh off-in-the-heat-of-the-battle' thing that he went through back in the ring with Holyfield? Well kids, it really can happen to the best of us. Okay, maybe not the best. But dammit, it does happen. Just ask Mark Lambert...

It's seems Mark Lambert ( a freaking LAWYER) got into an altercation with some dude named Greg Herber in the bathroom of a night club in Tennessee. And in the heat of the fisticuffs, Lambert straight chewed OFF half dude's left nostril. And by off, I mean in addition to assault charges Lambert stands accused of swallowing the piece of Herber's flesh.

*movie star screams, gags and faints DEAD on the floor*

But wait on it... wanna know the reason the lawyer went all cannibal on his fellow club patron? (And no, there weren't millions of dollars at stake like there was for Tyson.) It seems that two of Lambert's homeboys were holed up in a bathroom stall and not exactly using it to urinate if you catch my drift... Coughs, How you doin'?? So Herber started tripping on the 2 guys and demanding they come out b/c he needed to actually use the bathroom. And that's when Lambert (who was outside the stall using a urinal), rushed to the defense of his friends and started the fight with Herber. Um really, all that for some friends?? Feel free to insert serious side-eye as the disco ball silently spins overhead.

Mind you, the two dudes in the stall were not charged with any crime. Which means- they never bothered to stop whatever they were "doing," come out and help Lambert who was chomping away on their behalf.

*drops the mic and walks away*

my favorite holiday of the year...

Psst, guess what?

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

WOO HOO!!! Go Mitzi, it's ya birthday! Go Mitzi, get busy! Go Mitzi, go, go, go!! Insert image of me grinning like an ass, doing the running man across my living room, as I sing an off-key Stevie Wonder version of Happy Birthday at the top of my lungs.

I am so freaking excited to see another year in the crazy world, there are no words. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of my friends and family who's love, support and positive energy helped me make it through. 'Cause lord knows this past year was a helluva roller coaster ride....

*Dead Fish Eyes*

But you know my motto: I'm never mad at the stair steps that lead me to the life I'm destined to live.

So here's to keeping it moving and all the wonderful surprises that await.

actually, a king's son is a prince....

I must say, yesterday was a lot. First, waking up to the sound of pouring rain and then realizing that my cable/ internet wasn't working definitely blew me.  But in the grand scheme of things, it could've always been worse. 

Shoot, I could've been famed African-American scholar and Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. who got arrested  for disorderly conduct after forcing open the jammed front door of the house he LIVES in.  Mmm-hmm...

All I can say is thank god today is another day. The sun is shining, the Yankees are tied for 1st place in the Division and apparently Kelis finally delivered her son with Nas. Yes, let the choir sing. 'Cause I am beyond tired of hearing about those angry twits from the web and reading about the messy divorce proceeding... yeah, I said it.  

Not for nothing, if  Kesha Nichols can get over being dumped via text message by lame ass, e-thug Richard Jefferson less than a week before their wedding, then my god- its time to pull up your big girl panties and move on the hell on.

Real talk? You skimmed through his first baby mama's book just like the rest of us... You knew who you married. You rocked your matching satin 'NIGGER' jacket with pride.  Spare us all the indignant outrage, ridiculous $20,000 a month child support demands and just carry your ass back to the studio. 

someone's not celebrating father's day...

So I'm reading the NY Post and there's a story about a 50 year-old man in LaGrange, NY who stabbed his wife AND his teenage daughter in the neck with an ice pick earlier this morning. Which is crazy enough, but what really takes it over the edge is that neither of the two women is critically injury or dead. WTH?

How is possible to get stabbed in the neck with an ice pick and not be critically wounded?  What kind of weakling is this man? And better yet, how did his punk ass manage to stab the BOTH of them? Not for nothing, but even if they were sleeping when the attack started, wouldn't the screams from the first person to get stabbed wake the next?   

I'll tell you what, as much as I love me some Elsa, if someone was stabbing her in the neck with an ice pick, I gots to run and get help. Shooooot... ain't no point in us both getting shanked. No offense.

Jesus be a good pair of running sneakers.

the real reason for camera phones..

Normally, I wouldn't bother posting a damn word about Solange "Somebody Puh-lease Notice Me" Knowles. How-some-ever this here photo of her face down, passed the hell out in the LAX baggage claim area from last week's airline 'Nyquil' incident is freaking priceless.

And err-um, for someone who supposedly, "passed out" it sure looks like she made a very conscious decision to lay her lil ass on the dirty floor homeless lady style. You know with the comfy blanket that she clearly stole off the flight. Mmm-hmm. 2 cents says there were a whole lot of sleeping pills mixed in with that alledged innocent dose of Nyquil...

If you ask me, somebody needs go get the leather belt- this child clearly wants a good beating.

my own personal craigslist...

This is a really random question but when was the last time anyone tried to find a pair of pantyhose? No, I'm not talking tights- lord knows I wear a pair of those damn near every single day during the winter.

When I say pantyhose, I mean honest-to-goodness nude, taupe, sandy beige colored stockings. As in, last seen on a rerun of The Golden Girls... Yeah, I didn't think it was going to be that many.

Well anyhoo, I'm on the hunt for a pair. And I have absolutely no idea what brand makes realistic colors for women of color. Last time I can remember actually wearing a pair that sorta kinda matched was when I spent a summer interning at an investment bank. Mmm-hmm, you can feel free to add that to the list of 25 Random Things You Didn't KNow About Me.

So will someone please point me in the right direction? Brand and retail store specifics... I do not want to waste hours of my life shoving my hand in and out of all those half-hose testers, spend $15 I could use to buy Drama some dog food, only to get home and realize that the sheer sun-kiss almond makes my legs look like those of dead people.

june 2008...

Today is World AIDS Day. When was the last time you got tested?

Nobody aspires to be the senseless tragedy. Be safe.

And even more importantly, be informed.

all up in my head...

You know what? Folks do not play about their hair.

Whether it's long, short, weaved, permed or even natural, 68% weren't willingly to change up the 'do for anybody besides your damn self. And I am not mad atcha. Lord only knows what I go through to get my hair looking halfway decent and here you go. Talking about what YOU like. Uh-uh, no sir. Until you start ponying up the $250 a week for Edris to work her magic on this nappy head of mine... and even then. I have one thing to say: Mind. Ya. Business.

But, I commend the 31% of you who admit that you are open to the idea of changing up your hairstyle. Compromise is an important tool in relationship building. And there's no point in denying that most men have very distinct taste in hair and often decide who they will (or won't) date based on them. I see the vision. I just can't sip the Kool-Aid.

All tomfoolery aside, for most of us it's a bigger issue than how we choose to style our hair. I am not anti-change or compromise if it's gonna make my significant other happy. After all, it is just hair. It will grow back (we hope). I just think asking me to cut/grow/weave/perm my hair feels like a sly way of saying, 'Actually, I don't like the way you look.' And if that's how you really feel, then we probably need to re-evaluate our situation.

so this is what its come to...

So this past Friday night, after the debate (because I sure wasn't about to miss Obama tearing McCain up for nothing), I headed down to Room Service for this Puma party for Usain Bolt my boy Ed told me about.

SIDEBAR: You know you're not socializing enough when the party promoter that you used to see every other day including the weekend's jaw straight hits the floor when you show up at the velvet rope. And the only thing he can think to say is, "DAYUM Mitzi! What are YOU doin' out???"

But I digress... So, once inside the club I promise you, not even 5 minutes passes before some random peroxide Goldilocks pushes past and slaps me in the face with her dried out tresses. And I'm instantly reminded why I stopped coming out to these industry events in the first place. Luckily, Ed was there to keep me from making a beeline for the nearest exit. God bless his heart. "Let it go, she don't don't have no home training," he advised. And I tried. I even found an an old hanging partner of mine, Sandy that was out on the prowl with her crew and tried to relax. And can I tell you, God truly protects babies and fools in 4 inch stiletos. Just as the ache in my arch was gonna force me to throw in the towel, Chuck materialized and asked whether I wanted to sit down. Amen, Hallelujah! Before you could say free champagne, Sandy, her nameless Latina girlfriend, nameless Asian girlfriend and I all made a beeline for the VIP section.

So now I'm sitting on the couch, talking smack to Sandy and wondering how much longer my old bones are gonna last when out of NOWHERE, this perky looking girl walks over to the table and is like, "Hey ladies, do you wanna meet Usain Bolt? Just follow me!" Excuse you? I wasn't sure what homegirl was talking about but it couldn't hurt to go look right? I mean I was wearing the extra fitted purple sweater dress. Might as well make the most of it.

Next thing I know all four of us were ushered into the super tiny VIP-VIP section and people were shoving drinks in our hands, taking pictures and trying to get us to make nice with the world's fastest man (who by the way looked super overwhelmed with his entire immediate family surrounding him like the secret service and throwing mad shade at all the 'fast' American women). It was very much like back in college when you joined the hostess committee to welcome all the new promising athletes... wink, wink.

To be honest, I don't think I lasted ten minutes beyond the hello. My nerves were too bad. I kept thinking about all the places those photos will go in cyberspace (for perfect example, see above). I know I read The YBF, how bout you? So. Not. Cute.

In retrospect, I'm not quite sure how I should feel about what happened. On one hand, it's a lot to be on the ho train at 32. But then on the other hand, it's kind dope to be young enough looking to be on the ho train at 32. No? You tell me...

two left feet...

My homie Charlise celebrated her 24th birthday last night by inviting a bunch of folks out to learn how to salsa. I'm not going to tell you how ironic it is that both my parents are Panamanian and I don't know how to speak Spanish OR salsa. Needless to say, I was very excited to go.

Unfortunately, the group of us got so caught up talking about nothing, fake salsa dancing with one another and eating slices of the delicious strawberry shortcake bday cake her boyfriend bought, that we missed our lesson. SIGH. So now I'm on the only mission to figure out how to sals dance before the next family BBQ. If you know how and feel like teaching, holler at the kid.

black don't crack...

While it may have felt like I spent my entire holiday weekend in front of a laptop working, in reality, I did take two days to drive upstate to Kingston, NY for my girl Joan's 43rd birthday party. This year's grand event was a bikini BBQ followed by cupcake & champagne sleepover. Excluding myself, there were six fantastic women and one yummy boy to help bring in Ms. Morgan's new year. We all sat around, talked a whole bunch of nonsense, cracked terrible jokes, ate/drank until we were stuffed and then passed out. Um, can we say so much fun? If I didn't enjoy all the perks of being a Scorpio so much, I swear I'd hate on everyone with a summertime birthday.

How did you kick off the summer of 2008?

i need my mom to hold my hand...

Ummmm why am I so nervous about going to the dentist late rthis afternoon that I can't sleep? It's 3 o'clock in the morning and the thought of my impending cleaning/ getting a much needed crown has my stomach tied up in knots as if I was seven-years old all over again! Sigh.
And when I tell you that I've rescheduled this appointment no less than six times over the past YEAR cause I'm frightended to death of the dentist.... this is so crazy. Am I the only person over thirty that's still has panic attacks when the enter a dentist office?