She Hate Me - Live

She Hate Me

This weekend was quite eventful. Friday, I went to the Sweetwater concert and danced myself silly. I recommend it to everyone within the sound of my voice or viewing this page. My only complaint, I would have loved for Jill Scott and Erika Badu to perform a little longer. All of the ladies did a wonderful job and the crew was good at moving the show along.

Saturday, we moved. I swear, at the risk of sounding racist, prejudice, self-hating or otherwise, next time I hire a moving company I’m requesting Mexican workers. Brothas want to holla and be up in your business one minute and then complain about the flights of stairs the next, instead of just doing their jobs. One of the guys was clearly overweight and trust to want to be smoking cigarettes, all the while telling me I need to stay off of the third floor. Naw, bruh you need to lay off those damn cancer sticks and the KFC and maybe you could carry the furniture and the boxes without feeling like you are going to pass out.

Sunday, I went to pick up my older children in Alabama. They were with their father (Ex-fiance not to be confused with BD) after the woman who had them called me telling me she wanted to go out Saturday and “we” needed to come up with something. I called their dad and told him to go get them. He was happy to have them and they were happy to be there. When I got there I made sure to watch myself while I was there. I asked to go to the bathroom. I asked to go into the kitchen, etc. Of course he looked at me like I was crazy because he isn’t use to me behaving like that, but I’m trying to implement the suggestions I have been given.

I met his girlfriend/babysitter and new baby momma (#4). (The other summer when the kids were there he swore she was just the babysitter.) Their baby is 5 months old and very cute and chunky. About 30 minutes later, baby momma number 3 showed up with her children. I was surprised to see her, but I got up and gave her a hug and we greeted each other like old friends; me and her got history. It was like a scene out of a movie. Baby momma numbers 1, 3 and 4 and all of our children there, at his place, with all of our children running around and playing together. Just so the readers can picture this:

I (Number 1 aka Dr. Evil per number 3) have 3 children, 2 of which are his. I have his oldest child and until recently I had his youngest child.
Number 3 also has three children, only one of which is his. She has his other son.
Number 4, who lives with him, has his baby girl.

There we are, sitting in the living room laughing at the situation. I know I was tickled to death at how it all fell out like that. He was nervous as hell and had the nerve to tell me to behave myself, like as if I was going to do anything. I have long since been over him. He is #4’s problem not mine, and I think me and #3 realized after the fact that the situation may not have been as funny to her as it was to us.

Number 3 filled Number 4 in on a little bit of our past history. We traded stories about our interactions with Nana Pat. Unfortunately, none of us has had a good relationship with our children’s grandmother, #3 hasn’t even met her. I commented on how the day would have been complete if #2 and her kid showed up, but other than that I kept the comments to a minimum and let #3 have at it. At one point he did come in and point to a poster on the wall. Apparently, it’s the cover for his yet to be completed spoken word album. Isn’t that wonderful. I told him to go ahead and let the producers or whomever know that they can make the check out to me to cover his back child support owed. Number 3 chimed in that it would have to be split across families; yeah ok, but you might want to go get your court order first.

So after about an hour of watching him squirm and walk in and out of his own home to avoid some fall out he had pictured in his head, I was able to tear my kids away from playing and be on our way home. He walked the kids down to the car and tried to sneak a peak before I pulled off. I let him know he had two waiting on him upstairs that he could be on, but this shop was closed to his advances. That’s when he starts singing, “but I only have eyes for you”. He is a straight mess and always will be.

One of my girlfriend’s commented on how I always end up in “situations”. That one was definitely not one I would have ever planned out ahead of time.