Party Time

Yesterday we celebrate the siblings birthdays. Yes, every one of my siblings were born in the month of November. Both my older sisters and the twins. I was the odd one out. Middle child, born in August.

I had a blast at the party. My mommy did an outstanding job. This was all her idea. However, I gotta say, it didn’t start off all that great. I took my mom to purchase the food and the birthday cakes. Mom decided on hero sandwiches and we ordered one sheet cake and four little individual cakes with each person’s name on them. I had made arrangements for my niece to pick up the cakes, since they lived down the street from the Wal-Mart, the day we ordered them. Surprise, surprise, I get a phone call from my mommy, on Friday, telling me that she needs me to go pick up the cakes because my niece want be able to. Well, that’s find, I always set up myself up to be the contingency plan. Problem was, when I go to pick up the cakes there are no cakes to be found. Where are the cakes? The ladies behind the counter are looking all over and I guess I appeared to be a bit annoyed because one apologies for upsetting me. I had to tell her I wasn’t upset at all. Anyway, they are just about to read do all these damn cakes, as I wait, when it dawns on me to call my niece to see if she picked up the cakes. Sure enough, she had. I am pissed off. Not with my niece, because she did what I asked her to do, but with my mom. Her ass is always trying to do too much and then always gets the shit backwards. Yall know I love my mom, but damn….It turned out that she hadn’t even asked my niece if she was going to be able to go and pick up the cakes. She’d just assumed that she wouldn’t be able to because she was also helping to prepare a wedding shower that day. It was actually my fault. I know my mom, I should have followed up to confirm if she know what she was talking about.

Anyway, I head over to the house where my mom and my two other nieces are already there, preparing sandwiches and decorating the house. They did a really good job. Absolutely no drama, which is always a good thing. The party starts a 5pm, and all the guest and the twins are there for the festivities. Older sister number one is not there yet, because has not left the shower that she was helping to throw for her sister-in-laws upcoming wedding. And older sister number two is not there because her my nephew, her youngest, has been arrested for his warrants and she has to go get his ass out. Now yall know my motto…Let their grown asses sit it out. PAY YOUR DAMN TICKETS!

Once everyone is there we eat, laugh, talk and play games. Spades, Dominoes and Rummikub. Here comes the drama. Yes, while mom, aunt, older sister number one and myself were playing Rummikub in the kitchen, one of my young sibling’s friends comes in and fixes herself some punch. When she exit the kitchen, I get up to fix myself some punch. How come just as I walk over to the spot where she’d just left I get the distinct aroma of reefer? Yes, folks, it was as if she’d passed gas and left a odor of marijuana behind. So, of course I am just a little pissed and I am debating if I should go see what exactly is going on outside and in the other parts of the house. After all, not only is the shit disrespectful to my mom, but we have kids at this party. So you know what I did, right? I charged their asses up and then I went outside, pulled my little brother to the side. I don’t care if his ass is thirty, and told him very nicely that he needs to make it known to his friends that they can’t be doing that shit around his mother or his law enforcement brother.

Other than that, the party was a ball and a good time was had by all. Towards the end it was just me, the twins, a guys the twins went grew up with and my little brother’s forty-three year old lover (who was drunk off her ass, I might ass). Now, I have no idea how her ass got so hammered, because there was not alcohol at this party. She eventually passed out on the sofa, leaving the rest of us to play spades and talk about the roles of black people in the world, regardless of the fact that we have a black president elect. We also song the theme songs to every sit-com known the man, which was hilarious in it’s own right. It was 3:15 in the morning, when I finally left and home girl was still out cold on my mom’s sofa.

Now, answer me this. What kind of marriage do you have where one of you can be out past three and it not be a problem? Trust me. It would be a problem for me.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.