lowest common denominator...

Okay- so in the pure, unadulterated tomfoolery of the day:  the unnamed Tunisian woman who earlier this week claimed to be pregnant with twelve kids via IVF has been exposed as a fraud. And surprise, surprise, suddenly homegirl and her aiding and abetting husband have gone into hiding. Whatever.

I know everyone wants to famous/ special and important but who-in-the-worthless-excuse-for-a-life hell lies about being pregnant with 12 kids? No ma'am, this type of foolishness is a perfect example of  what happens when folks start talking just to hear the sound of their voices.  

Jesus be the overbooked looney bin.

another one bites the dust

There's never really a good time for break-up, is there?  Unless of course, you're the one doing the breaking (and if you're anything like me, by that point, you've already mentally separated from the situation long before so it really doesn't matter).  

But I was kinda curious, in terms of season, when is the easiest time to deal with a break-up.  So you know how I do, I asked.  And here's what you guys had to say:

winter- 6%

spring- 18%

summer- 73%

fall-1%

Eh, I guess the results are kinda predictable. I think it's safe to say that most folks like to drown their sorrows in warm weather, strong drink and hopefully the arms of a stranger. I'm just saying.

 But for me, not so much.  Honestly, I like my summers way too much to be trying to forget about the last trifling negro I mistakenly let get too close.  I'd MUCH rather suffer through a break-up during the winter. That way, I can be totally anti-social without a million people wondering- "Dang dude, what's wrong with  Mitzi?  Why she giving everybody the side-eye?"  Mmm-hmmm.

In my opinion pissy cold, gray skies, dismal weather are God's gift to the broken hearted.  It's the perfect time to sequester yourself, mope around ('cause you always have to rehash every red flag that you missed/ ignored) and be all psuedo-introspective (read: spend lots of dough on self-improvement books you're never going to finish reading and make a million fake promises to the universe not to fall for the same banana in the tailpipe bullshit again, blah, blah, blah). Not to mention, there's to time like the winter to lose all that damn love weight I seem to pack on as soon as my lazy behind gets a little happy. 

'Cause nothing says kiss my ass/ it's all your loss/ who's sorry now/ I'm not bitter just better than you, like a flat stomach and rock solid thighs.  

Word.

one in a million...

Wow, has it really been eight years since Aaliyah died?  Time flies. 

You know I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason but gotta say this was definitely one of those senseless tragedies that I question.  What if any, was the lesson learned? Don't get on a puddle jumper plane with too many sets of monogrammed LV luggage?  Sigh. So much talent and potential, lost. 

RIP.

you say anorexia, I say sample size

If this pissy summer weather has been good for absolutely nothing else, it's def helped me step up my reality TV game.  Not only have I successful killed several viable brain cells watching  all the episodes of 16 and Pregnant but then there was yesterday afternoon's six-hour Bridezilla marathon. Mmm-hmmm, ain't no shame in my rainy day Sunday sofa game. But NOW, the time has finally come for the mother of all mind numbing TV- the premiere of The Rachel Zoe Project!!! 

OMG, I. DIE.

For the record, I know it makes no sense for me to be this excited about another woman.  But I swear I can't help myself.  I LOVE that evil, egotistical, emaciated, bitchy white woman. 

And quite honestly,  it nothing to do with her supposed fashion sense (which I sometimes question).  In fact, I would prefer if the producers didn't show her dressing a celeb for the entire season.  I simply want to watch her lose her shit week after week over absolutely NOTHING of consequence.  'Cause quite candidly?  Her level of superficiality is a unique gift from above. You can't pay to be this self-centered.

Oh and let us not forget Tyler (her envious, mean-hearted lead assistant who so clearly would be a serial killer if so wasn't Rachel's indentured slave) and Brad (the most crocodile tear crying, opportunistic gay man on cable TV). Truth be told, the cat fights between the two of them deserves it's own spin-off. Its too much. 

Jesus be a full-length mink in the dead of August.

here's hoping for a lil' street justice...

As much as I L-O-V-E my neighborhood and L-I-V-E for the summers, there is one thing that I truly can't stand- the annual summer rapist.  Every single year since I moved here, there's been some lunatic running around upper Harlem and Washington Heights making it nervous for women.  And unfortunately, I see that '09 is not going to be an exception. Sigh.

So this is my PSA to all women living in the upper, upper west side of Manhattan- PLEASE be careful.  Apparently this sicko has a preference- he's been raping and robbing petite women of all ages.  In fact, this past Tuesday, a 69 year-old woman became his third victim. Like seriously? Who the hell rapes a 69 year-old woman? 

Yeah there is certainly a special place in hell for this one I tell you.  

Oh and ladies, please don't forget to share the news with all the males you know as well.  Quite honestly, they should be equally concerned.  'Cause it's all fun and games till it's your mom/ sister/ aunt/ cousin/ girlfriend that's calling from the hospital...