In the first 20 minutes of Love & Hip Hop Atlanta, we were treated to the following: a pregnancy scare; a man who owes more than a million in back child support boasting about Versace plates; unemployed models shamelessly asking to hold their bae’s debit card to pay a bill; an unabashed asshole suggesting that one of the qualifications for his (possible) child’s nanny be that she be a younger woman who’s into Facetime.
Mona Scott-Young and Co.: I appreciate your refusal to waste anyone’s time with the melodrama. In addition to the aforementioned, there was Mimi and Nikko Stevie K, who kicked off the show with their bullshit.
Stevie K gleefully tells Mimi about his altercation with Stevie J. This prompts the habitually upset Mimi to yell expletives and order him to get the fuck out of her new car. He refuses to leave, so she storms off. Mimi couldn’t act her way out of a Solo Red Cup, but God bless her, or something, for trying.
And this concludes me discussing Frick and Fake, because when it comes to these two and their quest for fame: “Ain’t gon’ feed you. I’mma let you starve.” Or as Joseline put it last night, “First, she was Molly the Maid and now she is Madam the Pornstar. She still servicing people. I can’t talk about her anymore. I’m done.”
Speaking of forced interactions, though, Lil’ Scrappy met up with his new special friend, Erica P. Erica P. wants the D, as evidenced by her greeting Momma Dee’s prince with a candlelit room. That prompted Scrappy to say, in the confessional, “Are we having prayer or are we having sex?” I’ll be adding that to my lexicon, thank you. Based on her conversation with Scrappy, I’m pretty sure Erica P. could talk most people out of their draws in a smooth five minutes.
It’ll be interesting to see how Bambi reacts to the news of those two now that she is pregnant with Scrappy’s baby. Though Momma Dee accused her of being a cheater a week ago, she’s now thrilled that there will be a new heir to the throne that exists solely within the confines of her mind. That means it's okay for her to be friends with “The Bambi” now. Momma Dee swears to Scrappy that she’s taking her “bipolar meds,” but if you believe that, I’ve got a drug lord story about Rick Ross to sell you.
As for Scrappy’s ex, “Erruca,” she is happily dating a model named O’Shea. Even if Erica didn’t tell us his title, we would’ve noticed from O’Shea’s hat which read “O’Shea the Model.” Yeah, O’Shea may be the model, but Erica is the bill payer, because when the tab at the bowling alley arrived, he asked to hold her card. Apparently, as handsome as both Erica and Yung Joc find O’Shea to be, modeling jobs have been hard to come by. I wonder if he’s thought about going to Cynthia Bailey’s school for aspiring models that would settle for a scene on a Bravo reality show.
However, what matters most is that Erica is happy, so if this non-drinking (I don’t trust people who don’t drink, FYI), non-smoking (if this applies to tobacco, I get it), drama-free man makes her happy, gon’ and trick if you got it, girl.
Instead, judge people like Stevie J, who has the audacity to continue to parade around his new home and Versace plates. No shade, but shade. If I owed child support all the way back to Usher’s teenage years, I wouldn’t be bragging about owning designer plates.
And with all due respect to Joseline, what was she thinking when she responded to Stevie’s command that she be delicate with their fancy ass plates by quipping, “You act like I just a country pumpkin that ain’t used to nothing.” Listen, you’ve been great with your self-awareness, Joseline. Let’s not be coy about ourselves now.
Their fancy plates were used during their dinner party for Benzino and his new girlfriend, Althea. I like women who can go around in 2014 with a name that reminds you of Reconstruction. That takes a lot of balls, so salute to her. During their lil’ get together, Benzino and Stevie came up with a new storyline and business idea: Sleazy & Zino's Bistro & Bar.
Would I eat at a place owned by the Fred and Barney of the south? Fuck no. But y’all let me know how those bronto burgers taste. Oh yeah, do tell if they manage to keep their liquor license longer than a year.
In related slimy Negro news, Kirk found out that his son with Rasheeda is in fact his biological child. Why do I get the feeling that he was hoping that it wasn’t his kid so he could have a way out of his marriage? Worse, as he waited to open the envelope that included the paternity results, he was flirting with a waitress. This man is straight up the worst person to have ever existed and the reason why some women try to cut men’s dicks off.
Rasheeda wants to record new music, and while I don’t particularly care, I have to admit that Kirk has given her lots of material to work with. One tip, Rasheeda: Give Shawty Lo his flow back and ask K. Michelle to sing the hook of your new single, “Die, Kirk. Die.”
Or you can call Karlie Redd since Jeremih is giving her impromptu singing lessons in the studio now. Stop laughing. Okay, continue.
Karlie sings like an old bird grasping for air, which I guess makes sense given age and present behavior. I am so tickled with Karlie and her craziness. Madam, you want to live with Yung Joc ‘cause you don’t trust him around “these hoes,” but you are eyeballing Erica’s Man and letting “Birthday Sex” dude feel you up with your Sho’Nuff from The Last Dragon themed weave.
Jesus, these people are amazing.
Michael Arceneaux is from the land of Beyoncé, but now lives in the city of Master Splinters. Follow him at @youngsinick.
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