Where did the love go?--part 1

In effort to not feel such hatred for my baby daddy, I am going back in time--to when things were good. If there ever was a time.



Here is part 1

The year: 1994, January--I had just gotten off work. I stopped by my mother's house because it was on the way home. I hung out there for a few, and rolled out. I stop at the gas station for some Newports and gas. I am pumping my gas and I see the gas station guy watching me from inside the booth. I could not really see what he looked like thru the glass, but I could see them eyes just 'a gawkin'. Aw, jesus, I think to myself. This fool gettin ready to crack. Maybe I should just stop somewhere else and get cigarettes. So, I turn my back to him and continue pumping my gas.

Next thing I know..I hear the deepest, sweetest voice say "What's a pretty girl like you doing pumping her own gas?" I swing around to see 1) who that voice belonged to and 2) to see who that voice was talking to. It was the gas station guy, and he was talking to me. He was tall, dark, and handsome. And who wudda known, he would someday be my baby daddy. The man that I despise most on this planet.

I give him a very uneasy look. (You know the one, where you close 1 eye, almost to where you can't see out of it, and cock your head to the opposite direction)
"Do I know you?" I ask. .."cuz I swear..."

"No, I don't think so", was his reply.

"What's your name?" Duh, Brenda..it's on. the. shirt. so I look at his name and I think for a minute.

"Ahh. That explains it." I get in my car. and I leave. I leave his ass standing right there.

SOMEONE should beat his ass

Monday afternoon, I was hanging out at the pool with the boy. I hear all this hoot'n, hollar'n, etc. It sounded like a sporting event. I try to figure out where the noise was coming from. Marvin's.

I look in the parking lot to see who could possibly be there making all that gahdamn noise, and I see Mikes car. Mike, as in lemme knock at Brenda's door at 5am, Mike.

Ewwww. I think. What the fuck is he doing over this way? Duh..he and Marvin are good friends. But still. Anyway. I decide that I have to pee. So I leave the pool area and start walking toward my apartment. Marvin lives on the 3rd floor. His balcony faces the pool. I am walking, minding my fucking business. I hear my name. I look up, and there is "the other one". As in my man.

Let me find out, that "the other one" is hanging out with Mike. At Marvins. Hmmmm. I wonder what they have to talk about. Lawd, don't let Mike come out his mouth about knocking on my door. A fight will surely break out.

So, I look up, and smile. Hey! What's goin' on?--I would stay'n chat, but I gotta pee. I never stop walking. I figure that he will be out there on my way back. Which he was. So this time I stop. Errything a'ight up there, baby? I ask him.

He looks pissed. Yeah, he replies..
I ask him if he is grumpy. Yeah, he replies again. He was gettin ready to leave, he told me. He would holla.

Okay. So, I see him and Mike leave. In the same damn car. Jesus. This motherfucker is gonna talk some shit, while Marvin is not there to make sure this asshole ain't lying about what happened.

Last night, I get a call from "the other one" --we really must come up with another name for this fool-- he tells me that Mike was questioning him about me, and wondered what our relationship was. He said that Mike basically said..you're doin' it to her, aren't you? "the other one' answers to no one. He refuses to have his business-our business-on the street. I wanted him to come over. He said that he had to get up early, and was really tired.

I was starting to think that maybe Mike had said something--perhaps just a little as to piss 'the other one' off into explaining why he is always at my place. I figure, I am just gonna put something out there so see what )if anything) he knows. So, in true snitch fashion, I say something about Mike knocking at my door. I just drop it out my mouth. No hesitation, no thinking about it. I just said it. He wants to know what happened. I kept it very brief. Only that he knocked on my door at 5 am. That he scared me and I made him leave. I told him that Mike almost got shot, and joking, I added that I was gonna have to call my friends at 5 am to bring a shovel, a wagon and the shop vac.

Not 10 minutes later, 'the other one' is walking thru my front door. He wants to know what happened with Mike, EXACTLY what happened. So I tell him. The whole story. Everything.
He looks pissed.

We finally get in bed. He falls asleep. He wakes up. He tells me he is leaving. He tells me that he will never get up if he sleeps over. He hates getting out of bed, while I am still there sleeping.
So, at 12 midnight he leaves my house.
Good Lord, don't tell me this man went to beat Mike's ass. I really don't think he did, but if he did, that fucking asshole deserves it. If he keeps on acting a fool, sooner or later..someone's gonna beat that ass.

Sincerest Apologies

I was working on something else for today, but since something more pressing was brought to my attention, I decided to post about it, explain, and apologize.

I received an comment from Ms. Tee. She was commenting on a post that I wrote last month. She was offended by some of the things that I said regarding a controversial issue. She suggested that I handle an issue like this one-on-one in the future. She is right.

As she guessed, this was written out of anger, but most of all the inability to be heard on any other playing field, but I will not waste my time making excuses. As I stated in my post, in the 10 years that the boy has been around, no one has ever confronted me on this issue. Perhaps I am just ignorant. Ignorant to the fact that others take offense with my choices.

While I make no apologies to anyone for living my life the way that I do, I do apologize for offending Ms. Tee and anyone else, and being insensitive to a real issue.

Despite what that post may indicate, I do not dislike anyone based on their race, or racial preference. I am not a shit starter, nor do I enjoy picking fights. While, I do not really care if people approve of the way that I live my life, I am not out here to start shit based on other peoples hang-ups.

It is our individual opinions that make the world go 'round, and mutual respect of these opinions is paramount.

Facing The Truth

It's amazing how someone's mood can go from chillin' to chokin' someone in the matter of an hour.

I had a good last night. I had a sleep-over guest. I fell asleep all up under him, with his lips on my face. *sigh*

This afternoon, however, I had a demon to fight. The Office of Child Support. Had to go there to sign a petition. That place, I swear, is the most depressing, humbling place there is. I hate going there. Everyone looks at you, and their eyes scream all different things. Of course, no one ever speaks. They weren't very crowded, but there was a lady in there screaming (in her cell phone) about how she was asked to take a drug test. I dunno. *shrug*

Anyway. I go back to the interview room with my social worker lady. She starts going over the petition. blah.blah.blah. been there. done that. in October of last year. It seems that they were unable to serve baby daddy. Despite the fact that I told them where to find him. Work and home. Of course, by February when they got around to my case, baby daddy's unstable ass was long gone. (I understand that our Human Service workers go thru daily shit..I read a blog that occasionally tells me this, but gahdamn..) So, the case was dismissed. huh? what? dismissed? Is that how it works? I gotta continually take time off work, to try to get money that I'll never get and this idiot is pimpin around in Ralph Lauren and Hilfiger and making babies all up in the Metropolitan Area. Go figure.

ok, back to what I was saying. So, I am talking to my social worker lady and I ask her about other cases that baby daddy might have, and how it will affect my case. I ask about custody and visitation. She proceeds to look some stuff up on her 'puter.

**I start thinking about the reason that baby daddy and I are no longer together. Not the general reason: liar, cheater, thief, but the specific reason: I found nekked pictures of some chick. Taken with my camera. On the same film as the boys first day of school. WTF?
Baby daddy was carrying them around in his brief case. mmm.hmmm. The day that I found them was the day that he was put out. Oh, sure..there were other signs. letters, that he claims were not to him. Random clothing, that he claims musta gotten mixed in with his stuff at the laundry mat. (We had a washer and dryer dumbass) . Cell phones, that I was unaware of. The list goes on and on. But the pictures did it for me. They told a story that made me open my eyes to the truth. In one of the letters that I found from his biaatch on the side, it stated something about a baby. Their baby.
Right after he moved out, the boy went for a day visit. He was 4. I told baby daddy to watch what he says and does in front of the boy. The boy is a trip and will put your business in the street. As soon as I get there, the boy starts telling me all this random shit. "my daddy told me that that's my brother in that girls tummy" he said pointing to said girl. Well, it turns out that said girl is the girl. The one that he cheated on me with for a year. The one that he impregnated while we were living together. The one that had his child. The one that later, after their demise, filed a child support case against him. The child that he denied paternity of. The child that he requested a paternity test for. The child that has his last name. And the first name (that I picked out) that would have been 'the boy's' name if I hadn't named him 'the boy'. The child that he tells me that he was found not be the father of. The child that he tells me he is not paying child support for. The child that he never sees. The child that he has no interest in. That is not his child. Period. I always thought that there is a chance that this is true. But we all know better, right? **

So.
I tell her that there was a case, but baby daddy told me they had the wrong man. Baby daddy told me that he had a paternity test and was not the father. That he was NOT that child's
father. That the case was dismissed. So social worker lady taps on her keyboard. She clicks her mouse. And then her face told me before her lips did. That baby daddy IS in fact baby daddy to this child, too, and that baby daddy is everything that I always knew he was. Liar, Cheater, Thief.

I guess it's one thing to think something is true. But it's a whole 'nother thing to hear the truth. The real truth. I just sat there. and stared in amazement at this woman. She mustave figured that she just sprung some shit on me, because she quickly told me that she can't give me any more details. This woman had just changed my whole thought process. They say the truth shall set you free. Only at that moment, I didn't feel so free. I finished my business and headed back to work.

On the way back to work, I was smokin' cigarettes like a house on fire. I had to take in my new found truth. I had so many thoughts. This is a lot for me. It took everything in me not to dial baby daddy's cell number and give him the ghetto cuss-out. I was doing some equasions in my head.. only to confirm what I have known for the past 5 years.

I talk to sexy man. I swear, this man puts things into perspective like no other. He says "Brenda, why do you even care?" I thought about it. I don't know why I care ..I just do. And he is right. Why do I care? I guess because the truth hurts sometimes, but sometimes you have to look truth square in the face and say fuck you.

The 3 Keys

I was driving to work this morning, and started thinking about a movie that I saw a few years back. It was the one where the girl was talking about giving her '3 keys' to her man. It was a big deal.

I don't think any 1 man has ever had my 3 keys, at the same time. Sure, dudes have had the house key. Dudes have had the car key. I may have even given out the heart key a few times. But never, that I can remember, has anyone ever had all 3.

Giving someone a key to anything is basically saying come and go as you want, you are trusted with that. I just don't think I was ever ready to see someone driving away in my car, and taking my heart with him. I feel like I have to protect something of mine. I just can't put myself wide out there like that--to give 1 single person access to run all through my life. To come in and out as he pleases.

Right now, I hold all my keys. None of my keys are out there. They have been. But men think that keys=power. I just don't know how comfortable I could be giving all of my keys out--or any of them for that matter... because when the relationship ends, there will no need to go key collecting.

I wonder if a man knows how important it is to get 'the keys'? Even thought I got 'em all for now, one day, I will wake up and realize that someone has all 3. At. the. same. damn. time. That scares me.

Shit Starters

I am done with people that start shit.


From now on, if anyone starts any kind of unnecessary shit, I am gonna tell them about themselves. There are 2 kinds of shit starters, and I have examples of both.

The --in your face--yeah I said it--shit starter.
These bitches will start shit and stand there like they are backed by the Mafia. When confronted they will try to convince everyone that they speak the truth.

example:
WANDA--I used to have a friend named Wanda. Notice I said used to. She has been long cut off because of her shit starting shit. I met her at a bar. We were pretty good friends, but then the shit started....he said/she said..he did/she did...Omigod..serious issues too. She even told me that she saw one of my good friends at my man's house. She gave me the date/time/details.
They were fuckin'. Yep, that's what she told me. None of this was true, and this bitch was just starting shit. But her shit starting was always things that make people want to commit homicide. You just can't fuck with people's emotions that way. People are dangerous, especially when they feel like their territory is being threatened. This bitch was liable to get some dude/chick/or both shot the fuck up. I was not gonna be anywhere around when this shit went down.

The --on the low--it wasn't me--shit starter.
These bitches will light a fuse--then run like hell. When confronted they will act as if they are shocked at the news.

example:
My CO-WORKER-- This girl can't be avoided. Her ass is everywhere in everyone's business. She will start shit, then duck out so fast you don't even see her shadow. Then pretend as if she is as innocent as the Virgin Mary. Yea, she has issues. She starts more shit than anyone that I know. She acts innocent when confronted. She sits back and watches all the commotion and pretends like she is not the one that just started said commotion. It is hilarious to watch, as long as it doesn't involve you. Whenever shit goes down, and it seems sketchy, I look over at her, smirking, as she watches all the shit she just started and she seems pleased with herself. She needs to be medicated.


either way, having a friend or associate like this is dangerous. so...

To all the shit starters that I know--you are hereby dismissed.

It Wasn't Me.

The boy.

He is so effing funny..it's unreal sometimes.

I was inside watching a movie. It was nice out, so I had the patio door and blinds open.

The boy and his friend were outside playin. They decide (for whatever reason) to come in. They are in the boy's room playin video games.

There is a knock at the door. I yell for the boy to get the door because I know it's one of his little friends. They knock at the door all damn weekend. My friends just walk in. It's just like that.

So..the boy gets the door..and I hear some chatting and he shuts the door. Locks it. Deadbolts it. and locks the hinge lock at the top. He walks past me. Shuts the patio door. Locks it. And closes the blinds. LOL!!!

I ask the boy what he is doing. He says 'nothing'. I smile at him, shake my head, and chuckle. The boy is in some shit, I think to myself.

Not 2 minutes later. A knock at the door. The boy comes haulin'ass out of his room..I'll get it..he yells!

Nah, that's okay..I got it, I tell him. I open the door..and standing there are 2 of the neighborhood girls.

**They are 10 and 13. They are sisters. I don't like them.
Their dad uses the N word. In public.
All. the. time. I prefer the boy to stay away from them.
I heard one of them referring to the boy as "hot"..Aw, hell naw!
My baby is not HOT. He is 9!. **

Older girl demands: The boy needs to come outside.

me: Why is that?

her: Because..he called someone a name yesterday..and I took the blame.

me: Took the blame from who?

her: LaVonte...The boy called Lavonte the B-word.

me: A bitch?

her (whining): yes, and LaVonte wants to beat ME up...and I want the boy to come out and tell LaVonte that HE called him that name..and not me.

me: Did LaVonte hear the boy call him a bitch? Who the hell is LaVonte, anyway?

her: no...someone told him, I don't know who he is. He is in 8th grade.

me: did you hear the boy call LaVonte a bitch?

her: no..

me: Oh no. You ain't settin' my baby up. Hang on a minute.

I go inside, shut the door, and call the boy.
me: Did YOU call some boy a bitch, yesterday?
TB: ummmmmmmmmmmmmm. nooooooooooooooooooooooo.
me: are your sure?
TB: I'm shuuuuuuuuuuuuuurr.
me: Then why the hell is this girl at the door sayin' that you did.
TB: I didn't mom. I promise.
me: **shaking my head** okay. but don't be callin these little jackasses names out here. I hate to have to go out there and hurt someone.

And I am pretty sure he didn't.

I go back to the door, and tell neighborhood girl that the boy is not coming out. Period.
And don't be knockin' on my door tryin' to get the boy caught up. And tell LaVonte if he has a problem to come knock on my door.

The boy is just like his mother. Always getting into some shit. Cracks me up.

Father's Day

It's Father's Day.

I can't buy my father a gift, but I can wish him a Happy Father's Day.
He died when I was 21 years old.

I miss him, and I wish he were here.

The boy wanted no parts of his father today. Baby Daddy made a HUGE ruckus about the boy spending Father's Day with him, so I told him he had to go.
The boy never noticed that Baby Daddy didn't even bother show up, and never called to explain why.

This is just the shit I'm talking about.

Happy Father's Day to all the good daddies out there.
Mine was one of them. Too bad the boy ain't so lucky.

Unanswered Booty Call

I am so fucking pissed. pissed.

I am sleeping. Me and the boy. I hear someone knocking at the door.
A dude. I can just tell. What the fuck? I look at the clock. 4:49 am. four-mother-fucking-forty-nine-A-fucking-M. I am in a sleep-induced daze tryna figure out why anyone is knocking on my door. I get up to go check it out, wondering which of these fucking idiot men in my life has lost their mind.

I look out the peep hole. Standing there, lookin' all stupid..this dude Mike. yep, that's his real name. He is a (good) friend of my (good) friend Marvin. He also knows "the other one" and some of my girlfriends. I however, do NOT know him that well. I know nothing personal about him..I don't even know his last name or what city he lives in.

**He went out with us this past Thursday. He thinks he's the shit. He thinks we all think it, too. He is one of those men that thinks he can pull any chick he wants. He's not even that good-looking. I didn't act interested, because I wasn't. Nor did he act interested. We made small talk. That's it. I think we maybe talked for 2 minutes. This is the most I have probably ever talked to him since we met last summer, when he picked Marvin up outside of my apartment, Marvin and I were out on my patio talking and he told Mike to come around to get him...I have seen him 5--maybe 6 times since then**

I definitely don't know him well enough to make him think he could knock on my fucking door at damn-near 5 am.

So, I open the door. I look at him--I am still half-asleep.

"What's up?" I say..somewhat irritated.

"Is anyone here?" he asks.

"No...what's up?" I ask again....I was waiting for him to ask if he could crash on my couch. I thought he just needed a place to sleep. I just assumed he was coming in from the club, or hanging out with the fellas.
I had no idea how wrong I was.

"Can a brotha get a little bit?" he asked me.

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?...you should KNOW I don't roll like that" I say

"Can I come in" now he sounds irritated.

"Ummmm. for a minute, I guess" - I say it more like a question than an answer- as I open the door wide enough for him to get past. As he is passing by me he says:

"Awww, come'on..let a brotha get some of that, it'll just be between me and you."

following behind him I say.."Come'on man..you should know better...naw, it ain't even like that." and I think what a mistake it was to let this idiot in. He walks into my living room. and stands there. like an idiot.

He explains how he was out with the fellas. drinking. drunk.
(And WHAT, just thought it would be cool to knock on my door at 5 am to get sexed?)

So he moves closer to me, almost like he wanted to touch me. He reached out to pull me close to him. It scared me a little. Made me uncomfortable. I moved back. This dude is like 6'3--245--and big hands. Big--like --these hands were made for slappin' a bitch-- big.

I started thinking bad shit. A million bad thoughts a minute.
I started thinking I am gonna have to go get my shit, and lay this brotha down, right here on my living room floor. I am gonna have to blaze his ass...shoot this motherfucker. right here.
I pictured him choking a bitch. and I pictured him try to take the ass, because clearly, he has already figured out that he ain't pullin this hair, and smackin' this booty. Not tonight. And. I pictured me shooting this bitch. and his ass lying dead.
on. my. floor.

So, I sit on the couch. And he sits, too.

And he says.."you sure were talking a lot of shit"

"when was that? I wondered...

"the other night. at the bar" he said. almost like he was accusing me of something.

Huh? What? I shook my head.."it ain't even like that".....I looked at him.."you gotta go, man..I'm going back to bed..."

He stands up. He moves over in front of me. He starts to un-buckle his belt. I am like omigod. here we go. I will admit, I was scared. I was thinking, this bastard is gonna try to take this ass, right here on my couch. I started thinking bad shit again.
My heart was pounding. I was thinking that I am really gonna have to shoot this mothafucker.

"Can a brotha atleast get a little taste?"

W-w-w wwhut? At this point, I am fucking done. I WANTED to say... Damn, motherfucker,
it's disrespectful enough to think that you can just randomly come over and fuck me.
But if you actually think that you can come over uninvited and unannounced to put your nasty-who-knows-where-the-fuck-it's-been-dick in my mouth--even for a second-- and I don't even fucking know you..?? You have really lost your mind. Now get the fuck out!
But what actually came out of my mouth was..."Naw man..no. you gotta go--it ain't even gonna go down like that..."

"Awww. come'on, ...." he starts to say...
I interrupt him. "I am going back to bed" I say with much attitude.
I gotta let this idiot know that I am not fuckin playin wit his ass. I would hate to be forced to shoot this bitch dead.

"aww..come'on, can I come to bed, too?" still asking me shit.

"no. no. no. no. no." I say as I am shaking my head no.

"a'ight then..You ain't mad, are you?"

"nah. I'm not mad"

So this motherfucker leaves. I shut and lock the door behind him. I go back to bed.

I wake up this morning, and I am pissed. How do you do that? How do you knock on a person's door, that you barely know and want (expect) some booty? How does that work? How does one ever get enough balls to carry shit that way? **shaking my head** I just don't get it.

I'm not sure what made this asshole think he could just roll up on me like that. There is nothing that I did or said to this man (ever!) to make him think this was okay.
Knockin' on my door not knowing who the fuck was at the crib. Not even caring. This idiot could have potentially started some shit that he wasn't ready for. If "the other one" was staying over, it woulda been on. "the other one" would have acted a fool. "the other one" don't play.

Clearly, he needs to told, that shit is not cool. Wait'll I see his ass again. I'll tell him.
I might even tell him how close his ass was to leaving in a body bag.

What's this REALLY about?

I been on hide-out from baby daddy. He been ringing my phones like he ain't got no sense.
I just don't have the patience to deal with him right now. I mean shit, he don't want nothin'.

He is one of those people that just want's what he perceives that he can't have. He now all the sudden wants to be around because he knows I don't want his ass around. If I would say..sure come around whenever you want, I wouldn't hear from him for a month. That's how he rolls.

Baby daddy has declared that this is not about "you", "me" or "us" --this is about the boy. And the sooner that I realize that, the better my life will be. (I don't have to realize anything to have a better life--my life is just fine, thanks.)

Baby daddy told me the last time that we spoke that he wished that I would let him see the boy(who BTW, just got a mohawk yesterday! A effing MOHAWK!..He looks ADORABLE!
Baby daddy will be LIVED! He had a fucking cow when I got the boys ear pierced. That's okay--he's rocking a half karat in that biaatch! (courtesy of my mother)) Anyway--he wished I would let him see the boy, as much as I ask him for money. Truth be told--baby daddy don't pay SHIT!--but as I told him, the boy gotta eat whether he sees his dad or not. The boy needs clothes and shoes regardless! But, whatever. I got it covered. I don't need his penny's.--Clearly, he needs the money more than I do..Or he would send it willingly. He knows the address...He knows where the doormat is (just slip it under, baby daddy..not a hard concept) ...But always an excuse. Most of the time he wants to see ME when he comes over. --here's how I know this:


Thursdays--girls night out. Almost every Thursday, me and all my single parent girlfriends, sometimes Sexy man, and usually my friend Marvin go out to have drinks. There is this little pub like 3 minutes from our drama filled neighborhood. We get 1 babysitter to watch all the kids--usually 2 or 3 of the rugrats...(they are 9 years old--they are self-sufficient. Us single moms just like some supervision for our "babies") -- We are usually home by 10:30. So one night baby daddy calls--I tell him that I am going out, and I got a sitter. He was pretty offended--why dont you LET me do it? he wondered, I said..because it's the boy AND his friends...he said that's cool...So. he says that he will come--to tell the babysitter nevermind. So, I do. He comes and hangs out with the kids. He says he wants to do it every week. (**This statement will be important in a minute**) So this lasts for about 3 weeks, and the 4th week he says he's coming and never shows. Whatever. We were screwed..no notice--he didn't even say he wasn't coming--just a no show--I was not surprised--so..We all stay in that night..it's not that big of a deal to go out..it's not mandatory! So. The next week, I call him..and I say, I am going out..are you coming over? (I told him it would only be the boy--and the boys Ace-boon) Baby daddy says: "I am TIRED of being your FUCKING BABYSITTER, while you go hang out with your BOYFRIEND"
What? What the fuck did you just say?
So I proceed to tell him, that I have a babysitter--that I don't need him for anything. And how do you BABYSIT your own child?


So, please ladies and gentlemen..don't tell me this is about the boy. Clearly it's not.

You wanna know if I am doing "what" with "who"?--part 2

Ok.

With all the technology these days, why is it that men still get caught up in something that they are not tryin to get caught up in. Something that not only involves them--but an innocent bystander, as well. (okay, maybe not innocent.. but something a whole lot like it)


If I get another call from someone's wife-girlfriend-woman-or baby mama--I am just gonna quit life. I mean--come'on guys! I can only go by what YOU tell me--so if you tell me that you are a single guy--I will proceed as if you are a single guy. So imagine my shock when my phone rings and it is a woman. A woman that is somehow associated with you. A woman who wants answers. A woman that is pissed! A woman that, if you had any common courtesy, I would be prepared for.

I am not really the one for this kind of bullshit...see previous post with the same name... Lucky for her, I was not at home. What could I possibly tell her that she does not already know?
I am pretty sure that they are not together. Not just by what he says, but also based on the fact that he sleeps at my place 3 nights a week, and has for the last 6 months. If this broad is puttin' up with that..then that's her fault. Not mine. Not his.

Ladies--holla at your man..this is his shit. HIS. And why are you doing this again? You need to grow the fuck up. This is not high school. We are grown. And why the hell are you creeping in his phone anyway? And why the hell are you makin' calls? to random people? How dumb does that sound. Repeat this to yourself: "I am about to call a phone number that I have no idea who it belongs to, I have no idea who is gonna answer the phone, and I have no idea what I am about to find out." Clearly, if you don't see how fucking stupid what you are about to do sounds..then you really got issues.


Men--please--keep your women under control. If you can't then keep my number out of your cell phone. Do somethin' because I am not havin' this. I am not fighting anyone over your ass. I am not explaining why my number is in your cell phone. I am not saving you. I won't throw you under the bus either..I gotta protect my investment--to a certain extent.
I don't bring drama to your door. So don't bring it to mine.
If you can't comply with this simple rule..
then you got-to go.

baby daddy, me, the boy and a promise.

I wake up to the phone ringing. I look at the clock.

3:09 AM. I have been asleep maybe 20 minutes.

Now when the phone rings at 3 in the morning..only a few things come to mind.

1) Someone that I know has died.
2) Someone that I know has been taken to the hospital
3) One of my girlfriends is drunk and upset
4) or maybe drunk and needs a ride
5) A Booty call

So, I get out of bed. Get the phone. Look at the caller ID. Fuck. Baby Daddy.
I get back in bed. He leaves this message on my machine. I can hear him talking, but can't understand what he is saying. I don't really care. I go back to sleep.

Next morning I try to listen to his message. It's cryptic at best. He sounds like the same pathetic motherfucker that used to call me in the middle of the night..to apologize for doing dirt...I thought he was leaving a message for the boy. But what he was saying didn't make sense..at all.

So I call this asshole. (I haven't heard from him in almost 2 weeks)
The boy is outside riding his skateboard.
It goes like this:

Me: what the fuck was that message all about?

BD: what message?

Me: The one you left at 3:00 this morning

BD: What did it say?

Me: Why you gotta play games? You know what the fuck it said.

BD: Oh, it was a mistake.

Me: It was a mistake.

BD: Yeah.

Me: Whatever. (click)

Not 2 minutes later, this motherfucker is ringing my phone.

Me: WHAT??

BD: What did the message say?

Me: Stop fucking calling here with this bullshit.

BD: Well, I need to know what it said.

Me: You left the fucking message..you don't know what it said?

BD: Well, Brenda..it WAS 3 in the morning.

Me: Don't EVER call my fucking house that late again.

BD: It was a MISTAKE!...can I see the boy today?

Me: The boy's not here.

BD: What about tomorrow?

Me: What about your fucking custody case? Why don't you worry about that.

BD: I was just playin'..I'm not gonna do that.

Me: Just playin'?? Just playin'??

I proceed to go on a rant. I think I used every cuss word in the world, at least 50 times. He yells too. He basically tells me that yes, he wants custody of the boy..and will fight to get it. This motherfucker ain't never fought for anything in his life. So, I tell him fuck you and hang up. He calls like 10 times. I don't answer. He leaves mean, nasty messages. The boy comes in the house with his friends--just as his daddy is saying that he KNOWS he will get custody of him.
He looks at me. He looks uneasy. He starts to talk. I put my finger to my lips so that he doesn't say anything in front of his friends and then use my finger to tell him come-here. I whisper to him that we will talk about this later. He says okay. and kisses me. He holds my face with his hands. He says he loves me.
The boy trusts me so much. I can see it all over his face. He knows things will be fine. I am afraid that if his father does get any kind of custody or visitation, that the boy will freak out. He never stays the night anywhere anymore. He used to stay at my mothers on the regular, but now, not even there. He has anxiety issues--been to the doctor and everything-- He is a mess when it comes to staying somewhere that I am not. It's bad.

So,I go back to the answering machine and listen. Like 5 times.
and this is what I finally hear:

"Hi (some biaatches name that I can't understand)..I guess it's over..sorry..love you..I didn't think what I did was that bad, but.."(some other mumbley shit) CLICK.

I am not surprised that baby daddy has yet another failed relationship. He fails at everything he does. Somethin is wrong with that man.

So later that night, the boy and I are talking. About his father. He says he only wants to see him once a year. He has no specific reasons. He says he doesn't like his father that much. He doesn't know why. I tell him that he likes his father when he comes around. He says, no..he's just being phony. phony? (Good LORD! the boy is perpetrating!) He says please don't make me have to stay there.
I promised him he wouldn't.

I just hope it's a promise that I can keep.

Brenda (PORN) Starr Slickbooty

I have discovered something about myself. It's embarrassing. In fact, I don't know if I am ready to share this. But heregoes.

I am a porn star. Yep. I said it. You heard me correctly. PORN. STAR.
*hanging head in shame*

So, here is how this shit went down:
Hanging out with sexy man. ok. lemme back up just a bit. I (in my infinite wisdom) think it would be fun to have sexy man take some pictures. of me. doing nasty things.
So. I am hanging out with sexy man, for this purpose. And we do the damn thing.

A few days later, I call sexy man, and I say..how did the pictures turn out? He says..he hasn't looked at them yet...somethin about..no need to..just like a squirrel, saving his nuts.. I dunno
Whatever.
So, I talk to sexy man again, and I ask about the pictures..and he is like..yeah, I got some stuff to show you, and I say okay..so we meet up, and he (I thought) was scrolling thru the pictures to show me..and guess what...it's not pictures. It's a fucking movie. A fucking movie.
It's PORN.

This girl was not ready for that. And I tell him. He laughs.
So, ..I get myself together and say..okay..lemme see. So, I am watching this movie. Of me. And I hear noises. I discover they are coming from the camera.
The fucking camera has sound ya'all.

I look (and sound) just like a porn bitch.
And I tell him.
He laughs.
I ask for a re-take.
And ever-so-compliant-sexy-man agrees.

So, I decided to give myself a porn name. Brenda Starr Slickbooty.
Yep.
That's me.
I guess we need one for my co-star.
Lemme think about that one.

Drama In the 'hood!

Drama is a trip.

Drama in the neighborhood is sometimes too much for me. I swear, I try to be drama free, but with my prima apartment location, which is right in the middle of the complex, I see everyone and they see me. Not much of my business is my business, because everyone that I know can basically see my door from their balcony, stoop, or just by sitting on their couch looking out their patio window. There is one guy who tells me he sees the 'comings and goings' in and out of my front door. What the fuck? Are ya telling me that you got nothin better to do than to stare at my front fucking door?

What amazes me, is how so many people just look out in to the world from their apartments and mind other peoples business. I don't get it. It's one thing to people watch..I do it all the time. But to actually call someone out on their personal business--like personal shit--like who they are fucking personal--shit that is absolutely NO ONES business, is just beyond me. Why does anyone care? Why would anyone even start a conversation that has anything to do with what or who I am doing in my OWN apartment?

What also trips me out, is when neighborhood drama is based on a lie. Yep.
NOT. EVEN. TRUE. SHIT.
Da Hell? How someone gonna start a whole bunch of drama out of shit that never happened? Drama Bitches. That's whats in my hood. People making shit up to get some sort of reaction,
or to gather information that they don't have enough courage to ask for point blank. Or to try
catch their (wo)man on the creep. (who is really on the creep with them) I mean day-um!

Which now brings me to one final thing..how you gonna get pissed off when you think your man is creeping--when he is creeping with you? Umm. Hello?!--your man is an idiot. You are an idiot. Keep your drama 'round your part of the hood.

I guess that's what happens when you have a bunch of single- parent women (we have all felt the drama!), and a bunch of men (single, married--or otherwise) in a tucked-away apartment complex with only one way in and out--someone who knows someone is gonna see someone creepin'!

I prefer to keep my shit on the low. but drama is gonna happen--so none of this is a surprise to me.

But as long as no one brings drama to my door..we are cool.

Sexy Man..Baby Daddy..and the Other One..

Men fucking suck.

Don't get me wrong..I LOVE my men. But my men suck. All of them.

Sexy man...um.ok.so...Why when I break sexy man off a little-sump'm he gotta act an ass?
How does that work? I mean day-um. Tryin to help a brotha out..LOL!
Here is the Brenda Theory: Sexy man loves him some me. Sexy man has no clue what he wants though..he has no clue what to do. Sexy man is in a straight up bind. Sexy man is clearly not thinking about his (other) woman, when we do what we do.
That's all there is to it.
Sexy man: Just because you ignore the facts, that doesn't mean they're not facts. I give you pleasure. You love me so damn much, you don't know WHAT to do.
Just because your heart and your head are conflicted--ya ain't gotta be mean.


Baby Daddy..um..ok..so... Why has it been a week and a half since I heard from baby daddy. Mr.-I-need-to-have-joint-custody-of-the-boy. What the fuck? No visits. No calls. No letters. No threats. No nothing. That just proves my point about this fucking asshole.
Baby Daddy: Please just go away. If it means taking your 100 dollars a year in child support and your few and far between attempts of being a real father, then we must sacrifice I suppose. You make me want to fucking commit homicide.

The other one..um..ok..so... Why does this motherfucker gotta act like he ain't on the creep 3 nights a week? He sleeps on the couch? There is nothing going on? Why does everything have to be about sex, why can't a man just hang out?
Other One: Everyone KNOWS why you are at my house 3 nights a week.
Because. We. are. fucking.
If you wanna tell people that you sleep on the couch..then TAKE YOUR ASS TO THE COUCH. If you want people to believe that there is nothing going on, then stop fucking talking about it. All. the. damn. time. Why does everything have to be about sex? because that IS what this is about.

Just gotta love the men in my life!