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Top 10 lies employers tell you!

Most people have worked for someone either in the past or right now. Most people would agree that some bosses are horrible bosses but how about those who smile at you and imagine your IQ to be in the negative range or why else would they feed you bullocks?

Unfortunately the work force is majorly divided into three:

1. The butt-kissers. This is the largest group and some of them would munch any kinda ass, filthy as it may be. The thing is, some of the time butt kissing is the only way one can get ahead but it’s low down and dirty and it doesn’t change the fact that the butt-kisser more often than not detests his boss and would spit in his water if he could! πŸ˜‰

2. The excuse-factory. These people don’t last long at their jobs unfortunately. They are either preoccupied or just darn lazy and wonder why they get fired so often. What they fail to realise is though their reasons for coming late or failing to carry out a task sound very complicated and authentic to their ears and while they secretly praise themselves for their ingenuity, people can see right through them and barely tolerate their excesses.

3. The eye-service pro. This group is different from the butt-kissers because they don’t really give 2 hoots about their bosses. They know their job description and know how things work. So as long as the boss is in the building, they scurry about pretending to be profoundly busy. The boss is overjoyed that his employees work so very hard. They remind him about meetings and seem very professional but soon as he leaves the building, it’s back to facebook and office gossip!

Very few workers actually work hard at their jobs and majority who do have the sort of boss who’d tell you one of these ten lies.

1. If you work hard, one day you’ll be the one sitting behind this desk. Yeah right, like he’d really leave his company to you. Maybe he was talking about some other smaller desk by faith. Certainly not the CEO’s office.

2. I hate liars! That’s right before he tells you to tell an outright lie to that client. Ah well, he probably hates himself too!

3. I always pay salaries on time. That’s probably what you’d hear during a job interview if it crossed your mind to ask but somehow along the line, payment of your monthly salary becomes an end of month prayer point.

4. The experience gained in this company is invaluable. You sit behind your desk swamped with work you had to figure out how to do on your own cos your lazy superior never took the time to put you through. Yes you do gain experience. Now you can write a whole bedtime story on how necessity is the mother of invention.

5. Don’t disturb me again about your money, I will definitely pay you-Β …Someday, most likely never, but I’m hoping you’ll be gullible enough to fall for that and get off my back… And they never pay!

6. The company didn’t make any profit, we are really broke. And then he’s off to SA with girlfriend number 4 for two weeks of bliss while you jump buses cos your car’s parked in the garage and your wallet’s running on empty!

7. When I was your age I worked twice as hard and never went on leave! Sounds almost like your parents telling you how they always came first in school till you unearthed their less than stellar school leaving certificate.

8. You are next in line for a promotion. Isn’t that the hundredth time he has said that in the last 2 years? The first 2 times you popped champagne at home. The next 2 times, you took your girl to that fancy restaurant. The 5th time had to be it so you splurged on that new wrist-watch…95 times later and it’s a prayer (and fasting) request.

9. There are too many public holidays. Are you kidding? Not enough at all. I feel like I wake up early every single day of the year. I work on weekends and sometimes on so called public holidays. The number of holidays is grossly inadequate, we should make it a tithe of the number of work days in the year at the very least!

10. I didn’t wear shoes as a kid! We all know where we’ve heard that one before. *rollingeyes. The next day he forgets himself and boasts about how his childhood can’t be compared to yours. “Nigeria used to be so much better then, things were cheaper, I had cleaner air and better food…” Yadayadayada at least I had shoes as a kid, you were walking around BAREFOOTED with a fat pocket and even fatter tummy! #bullocks

I love my boss πŸ™‚

This is for my friend S. Don’t worry dear, one day if you are lucky, you’ll get to be a horrible boss too! πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰

Have a great week peeps…..xoxoxo

 
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Posted by on April 17, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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21 unbelievable things women will do to get married…

Tired of waiting for your dream man? Tired of changing boyfriends like underwear? Tired of begging God to upgrade you? Tired of waiting for your boyfriend to propose? Tired of all the heartbreaks and betrayal? Tired of men chopping you for free? Tire no more…

Statistics show that only 3% of single women of marriageable age in Nigeria are undisturbed by their lack of a spouse! The other 97% would do just about anything to become Mrs somebody. And when I say anything, I mean it…

Here are the 21 rather unorthodox things ‘classy’ Nigerian women have done in their quest to bag a husband! πŸ™‚ Some are bizzare, some are skanky and some are downright sad…but if you’re willing to try anything and getting a husband is the only activity left on your bucket list, you might wanna try a few! (Men beware) πŸ™‚ πŸ˜‰
#Not for the fainthearted…

In no particular order:
1. Snatching a friend or relation’s man. All is fair in love and war! Rumour has it that women have resorted to locking their phones, hiding their men and coding their gist from so-called friends cos it’s a jungle out there… πŸ™‚

2. Re-inventing themselves. Pretence is the order of the day. No man wants to tame the shrew or teach the inexperienced or make an honest woman out of a dishonest one so once marriage is desired, women package themselves in pseudo, ready-made, easy-to-use, highly desirable packages. After marriage, what you see is what you get! πŸ™‚ #stepfordwifemode

3. Trapping him with pregnancy. This used to be the old school method of getting a man to propose. From skipping the pill to seducing the man or getting him drunk when she was ovulating, a woman usually knew she had the man where she wanted him once she missed her period even if there was no commitment. πŸ™‚ Now the guys are saying YES to baby mamas and YES to child support. Are the girls deterred? NO! πŸ™‚ The girls have stepped up their game by involving the parents and you know parents don’t like scandals…

4. Praying&Fasting. This would presumably be an honourable means of obtaining a husband but sometimes the prayers are offered up to deities other than God& other times it becomes a song permanently on repeat…

5. Taking his photograph to Cele church for a prophetess to pray over or a powerful Alfa. Heard it works like a charm… πŸ˜‰

6. Taking his sperm, hair or personal effects to Baba. Guys disposing of your condoms yourself is not such a bad idea… πŸ™‚

7. Outright Jazz! My friend S recently gisted me ’bout how a tied up, live pigeon had been discovered in a friend’s sister-in-law’s box. The woman confessed to using jazz and said she hadn’t been sure if the guy would actually propose so she took the necessary precaution…

8. Putting love potion in his food! This is classic and timeless but shouldn’t it be called a ‘compelling’ potion? Because in this case, love na by force! πŸ™‚

9. Saying YES to a man you despise! A woman has two classes of men usually on her case. The ‘correct’ guys and the ‘disgos’. The disgos usually end up as magas or rebounds but many a woman has shocked a despondent toaster with a sudden ‘Yes’ and men have agreed that truly there is nothing God cannot do! πŸ˜‰

10. Proposing to a guy! Yes it does happen… (Who wears the engagement ring?)

11. Toasting a man’s family so they make the decision for him! A friend complained that a girl he detested had over the months gotten close to his family. Lavishing on them, cooking for them and basically being their ‘go-to’ girl and now his mum had put her foot down that he had to break up with his girlfriend and marry little-miss-went-home-to-mama depending on how much power the family wields, their word may be final…

12. Asking daddy to get you a husband! If daddy’s a big shot, arranging a husband for you is usually as easy as pie and some men would sell their souls for a large chunk of daddy’s money so both parties are happy… πŸ™‚

13. Being your man’s maga! Some women believe that when you finally get a man to be interested in you, spoiling him and overlooking his every fault would get you into a white gown faster than an okada chased by LASTMA! Some men don’t mind a woman who houses them, clothes them, feeds them, gives ’em pocket money, never gets upset with them even when they misbehave and cleans up after them with little or no contribution from them… Living the dream???

14. Giving him unlimited freedom as long as he proposes. “Tell me I’m number one baby, tell me I’m the future mother of your kids and not Amina, Bisi or Ngozi!” πŸ™‚ Women used to wanna be the one AND ONLY in their man’s life, now being the number one is good enough… πŸ˜‰

15. Polishing up a low class, barely educated brother in exchange for a ring! The deal is simple, you send your cleaner, gateman or driver to night school, you give him language lessons, you take him to buy some new clothes and deodorant and teach him to call you honey instead of madam and in exchange, he gets to marry you, share an expensive bedroom and never worry about his bills ever again! πŸ™‚

16. Revamping yourself. Change your ward-robe, lose 20kg, buy a truckload of brazilian hair, study the karma-sutra, do a vaginoplasty and change the age on your birth-certificate to read 22. Botox, plastic surgery, a compulsory gym membership and ‘body magic’ also indicated! πŸ™‚

17. Becoming a worker in church! Rumour has it that men go to church to marry, the same rumour also reveals that ‘Greeters’, ‘Ushers’ and ‘Lead Soloists’ have the best exposure…praise the Lord! πŸ˜‰

18. Moving to a new town or part of town so that you are the ‘new girl’. This always peaks the men’s interest and at the same time you get to run away from your past and the ‘old maid’ labels! Combine this with number 16 above and ooh la la! πŸ˜‰

19. Going for ‘deliverance’ from a spirit husband and sowing a big ‘marriage’ seed in church! Giving your possessions to the poor, giving a sacrificial offering or just giving one thing to God that would make you weep…

20. Abandoning your hopes, dreams and ambitions! I’ve heard people say that women looking for a prince charming live unrealistic dreams, virgins are old-school, overly educated women are proud, rich women are not submissive, ambitious women are conceited, women with demanding jobs won’t have time for their families, women who want a faithful man are deluded and women who don’t get pregnant before wedlock have something wrong with their plumbing! So forsake the masters, don’t even dream of a PhD, quit your job, give away all your money and surely a husband will come… πŸ˜‰

And if all else fails…

21. Marry a married man!
He could be your friend’s husband, your sister’s husband, your cousin’s husband, your colleague’s husband, even your mother’s husband if you like! πŸ˜‰

Can you blame these women? The average guy has commitment phobia or is out to play till he is all spent before he settles down or is waiting to make his first ‘5 million’ before saying ‘I do’. Even a man with no future ambition or class, much less finances still knows he could have his pick of the best women out there, once he announces he is looking to settle! The last census showed a female-dominated demographic with more women per eligible bachelor. Family and society constantly put the woman in hot water making her personal successes irrelevant till she bags a man…

I weep for the modern-day woman!

Little wonder, my friend C is anti-marriage! She’s a regular Igbo girl so you can imagine her family’s consternation. Her mother has talked and talked, her relations have tried matchmaking but my friend won’t even give them the time of day. She’s an ambitious woman with her own company and at 26, she couldn’t be bothered. She isn’t heart-broken or a lesbian, she just doesn’t think marriage is something she should worry her head about. She says if she’s destined to be married then some guy would have to work hard at impressing her and till then case-closed!

A successful marriage rests majorly on a woman’s shoulders yet it is taboo for her to ask where the relationship is heading or for her to bring up the marriage issue with her man. She is seen as being forward, desperate, immature or trying to scare the man away by both men and women if she does. A woman’s fertility starts to dwindle in her thirties and some men have dated women for more than a decade only to marry a chick they met two months ago. So why shouldn’t she ask? Who is to blame for this? The women who buy the idea that their life is meaningless without a man or the men whose mantra is ‘They are not ready’ or our parents or society for laying down unreasonable norms and traditions and rigid gender roles?

Pressuring a man into marriage is often a foolhardy venture. A man can say ‘I do’ without giving the necessary commitment needed to make a marriage work and if a man isn’t financially or emotionally ready to marry or isn’t mature enough, forcing him would end in tears. So what is the way forward? Girls are not smiling…

Men please consider the huge pressure the Nigerian woman is under and if you are not anywhere ready to commit, set her free! If you are ‘almost’ ready, carry her along, tell her your plans, give her security and she will nurture your dreams for you as she patiently waits…

5 tips that just might work…

Feel free to pick the above 21 over my humble 5! Those who tried the 21 are already married! πŸ™‚

1. Lay all your cards on the table before you jump into a new relationship. Tell him your plans and make him tell you his. A relationship can only progress if both parties’ personal plans converge at a point that’s comfortable for them.

2. Gravitate towards partners that are on the same wavelength and level of maturity as you.

3. Check the guy out first. What’s his track record? I know a guy who has bought four engagement rings. I know another guy who breaks up with his girlfriends every time they mention marriage. If a man can’t marry a particular tribe or religion for personal reasons, it doesn’t mean he won’t date a girl from that tribe or religion! Don’t be the side-attraction, do your homework!

4. Honesty!!! Deceit in any form usually comes around to bite you in the arse…

5. Know when to cut loose. There’s a thin line between having faith and being foolish!

Ecclesiastes 3:11 ‘He makes all things beautiful in His time…’
Have a lovely day peeps…xoxoxo πŸ˜‰ πŸ™‚

 
29 Comments

Posted by on November 15, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Relationships, Women

 

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Happy birthday to me…xxx

Β  Β  Β Mortals cannot choose the day they are born or the day they die, their choices begin and end after these two are made for them…

I didn’t choose to be born on the 5th of September but that was the day my mama’s water broke and the doctor announced it was a girl…that girl turned 27 two days ago…

I decided to do a l’il research about the 5th of September not that I’m superstitious or anything but like every optimist out there, I’ve always known I was special…

First thing I googled was famous people born that day and apparently a couple of odd ball characters share birthdays with me! There were presidents, football players, mathematicians, poets, royalty, actresses, composers and great business men, even famous criminals!

Most of the names didn’t ring a bell but of the ones that did, Jesse James the famous criminal and son of a clergy man struck me the most. Not that I have any criminal intent but here was a man who was born on the same day as dozens of great men and decided to go down in history as a famous bank/train robber! He had a choice, yes times could have been tough and his clergy father over-strict but he blazed his own trail and that was exactly what I wanted to do. Make a name for myself, be so great that at my funeral they’d have to truncate the eulogy cos there’d be too many wonderful things to say and who knows, I could even end up on the 5000 naira note later on, or win a Nobel prize…. πŸ˜‰

All men are born equal…some more equal than others… πŸ˜‰

Someone asked once why all the great men in Nigerian history had no shoes growing up. The thing is, no matter how great you are or how rosy things are in your life, there’s gonna be that thorn, that storm, that weakness, that dark cloud hiding your sunshine. That thing that seeks to define you…How you handle it determines if you’ll be a hero or a zero…

Before I start my list, for all who are wondering how I spent my birthday, here’s a shocker…I spent it in bed! Tossing and turning and reflecting for the greater part of the day. 27 can be a scary age, just 3 years short of 30. I wasn’t all I’d hoped to be but I hadn’t done too badly either. I had goals I’d achieved, goals I’d left hanging and dreams I’d almost forgotten. I also had some hard life decisions to make…At 5.30 pm, I got a call from an old friend that shook me out of my reverie and as I planned the later part of my day, I made the rather hard decision to kiss Abuja goodbye…

The rest of my day was fun thanks to J, E and S and I got some really cool gifts though I was a bit disappointed that everyone skipped the private jet, range rover sports and land in Maitama on my wish list! πŸ™‚

Now to the 27 things that are part of a great list of awesome events that made me the 27 year old I am today….

1) When I’m in love, I forget to eat which is great cos I like food. I’ve been called ijekuje, medemede, grubido and queen gaul because of my love for fast food and sweet things…. At the same time, I am conscious of my weight so alternate between fasts/diets/the gym and large helpings of cake and suya! Thankfully I’m tall… πŸ™‚

2) I wrote and sold my first novel in primary four. It was about a magic mirror. All 10 copies were painstakingly hand-written and illustrated on white paper cut up and arranged in book-form and sold to my classmates for 2 naira, 50 kobo each. My mom never knew! World’s youngest entrepreneur?

3) The first boy I ever had a crush on was in church. He was nerdy, wore glasses, had pimples and was awfully smart. One day he tapped my shoulder from behind apparently to catch my attention and electricity went through my body. I was 12 at the time and I’m still not sure if it was the anointing, butterflies or jazz! πŸ˜‰

4) I don’t know my right hand from my left. I have a little birth mark on my right hand that I look at every time I need directions and I’ve learnt to do that at lightening speed! Don’t laugh, I heard only geniuses have that problem. Seems I’m using both halves of my brain equally! πŸ˜‰

5) I shake my leg and it’s contagious. Sometimes I do it in my sleep and I have 8 different types of shakes and the best of boyfriends have given up after trying to decipher my secret code. I shake my leg when I’m sleepy, bored, angry, horny, restless, excited, nervous or praying! I’m shaking it right now… πŸ™‚

6) I’m a helpless romantic and water full my eye! I really get into a movie, so into it that where others say ‘awwwww, sad’ I cry buckets! Even cried when I watched ‘Lion King!’ I’m also jumpy, couldn’t find my purse after ‘Snakes on a plane’ cos I’d flung it in fright at some point. Nevertheless, I love horror!

7) I pray before I do anything, even before going clubbing… #shameonme! I’m no better than those criminals who pray before robbing…geez! But He is faithful and I’ve never been robbed, mugged, kidnapped, in an accident, drugged etc though my guardian angels did advice I slow my role so I’ve become more indoorsy of late! πŸ˜‰

8 ) I cried the first time I entered the anatomy lab and saw all those dead bodies. I wasn’t scared or disgusted, I was just sad that I had to cut them up to achieve my dream. They had dreams too… #sentimental

9) I used to be deadly afraid of dogs till I moved to Abuja. Now I live with Nikky, Buddy, Jack and Nikky’s 5 pups. Alsatians and a Bullmastiff. Now i could almost write a book about dogs…

10) I’m afraid of heights, and that also includes being carried so no sweeping me off my feet please. Thank God carrying your wife across the threshold no be by force!

11) When I was in the university, I was superstitious about sandals and slippers. Every time I did something wrong or felt guilty about something, the strap of my shoe cut, no matter how new it was or how strong it looked and I had to do the walk of shame to the nearest shoe-maker…

12) I love my friends and family but I’m terrible at keeping in touch…and would rather send an sms than call… 😦

13) I thought Beast was the sexiest X-Men character! And would have totally married Rock in fantastic four. Something about soft, brainy yet brawny guys not necessarily conventionally hot…

14) At various points in my life, I have wanted to be a genetic engineer, an architect, a pilot, a sexologist, a police woman and a house wife…

15) I was an ugly duckling till the end of secondary school, I have almost no pics left for public viewing of me between age 9 and 16! Any man who fancied me then, knew the meaning of true love or was enthralled with the boobs on the skinny black girl!

16) The first time I was ever on TV was a children’s program on NTA channel 10. I was in JS2 then and my mates teased the hell out of me and my green aunty-give-me-cake-dress!

17) I’ve made grown men cry and grown men have made me cry!

18) I believe in love and would never marry a man for his money. Unfortunately it has been a while since a millionaire tested that theory! πŸ˜‰

19) I love children and I wanna be a pediatrician but after failing primaries, I am thinking I’ll just give birth to loads of ’em or open an orphanage instead! Now considering other disciplines of medicine…

20) I love sexy lingerie….

21) I wanna change the world…and I wanna go to heaven…both are not easy tasks!

22) I would like to get married next year and have a kid before December 2012 just in case the world does end on that day!!!

23) I got duped by a conman for the first time in history. 65k waka just like that! And I always thought I had waffi sense! So much for Isoko wayo…. 😦

24) I spend more time on my blackberry than any other activity. My not so secret sin…

25) My favorite part of my blog is the site stats…seeing the number of people that visited my blog everyday gives me a daily dose of self-achievement…love you guys!

26) Of the seven deadly sins, if I was gonna be judged on one, it would probably be lust… 😦

27) I’m easily satisfied and have been called low maintenance by every single guy who I’ve ever been remotely involved with, i’m starting to think it isn’t such a compliment anymore. Need to develop a love of money and a hunger for the finer things of life… πŸ˜‰

I will end this blog with excerpts from http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/family/september-5-birthday-astrology.htmΒ I am allowed to be self-absorbed since this post is dedicated to me and the author had such lovely things to say about the September 5 breed. πŸ˜‰

“Because of their attitude and appearance, VirgosΒ born on September 5 stand out in a crowd. Intelligent and composed, they are usually in control of their emotions. They’re not just physically attractive but also are composed and dignified.

Relationships are the essence of life for September 5 people, and they spend their life working to make them the best they can be. They have a talent for making marriageΒ work and are responsible and affectionate. They are loyal and expect the same.

They are often highly educated, yet many make their livings in nonacademic jobs. They work hard to achieve financial security.Β September 5 natives are often satisfied after attaining even modest goals. They balance professional goals with their personal lives without losing sight of either.

Don’t hate, appreciate…we are far from perfect but we will take over the world…if you ain’t born on September 5, ask God why???? Have a lovely night peeps… xoxoxo πŸ˜‰

 
16 Comments

Posted by on September 7, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Memoirs

 

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New thingz

I was having lunch with my friend J at Southern Fries, when a chick walked in, there was another chick with her but no one even noticed. All eyes were on her and her ‘hey-mama’ skirt which had all the men and their little men at attention and the women gaping. The lower curve of her butt cheeks was peeking at the world and all that separated it from the chilly afternoon air was a pair of fish net tights. We really had to commend the efforts of the skirt for managing to cover her upper cheeks. She wore Karen-couture (The latest in boob-baskets guaranteed to display your boobs to the far-sighted, made popular by Karen Igho, BBA winner)Β and had a brazen look on her face that made the icecream melt a bit faster. Someone started coughing and we turned to see an older man choking as his wife glared angrily at him not even bothering to help out. Our vixen got her food and sat down facing her audience, legs apart, red thong teasing the crowd as she slurped on a milkshake and I could see a lot of the women looking faint, their sensibilities thoroughly insulted, wishing they could have her thrown out but she was a paying customer and it didn’t help that there was a tomboy sitting beside her with a proud and possessive look on her face enjoying the scene her lover had created. Soon the novelty wore off and heads hastily dropped as cold chips were remembered. I was intrigued but J assured me that it was becoming a fairly common scene in Abuja though it struck me as odd because I always regarded Southern Fries as a family-type eatery and it was a Sunday afternoon…that paying customer robbed many a man of their post-church anointing! πŸ˜‰

I flew into Lagos last week and I was half expecting to see water everywhere but Lagos was dry and it seemed people had moved past the floods and the loss of lives and property. The last time I was in town, school children would sing ‘rain rain go away’ when it began to pour and old folks would hum the lines to the old hymn ‘Showers of blessing’. Now once the sky turned a dark grey, people began to speak in tongues and beg God to preserve their property and lives and my gym instructor says more people are taking swimming lessons. Seems that instead of umbrellas, an insurance cover is the best sort of protection from the rain in Lagos. Maybe there was a reason planking was such a great fad, seems like that’s the sorta skill we need to be learning to stay afloat! The floods brought a sense of foreboding that returned with each drizzle and only the sun coming out again could clear the air. I got a Blackberry broadcast days ago warning about a tsunami forecasted to be hitting Accra, Lagos and PortHarcourt soon and panicked. If we couldn’t handle floods, we’d be like the Lost City of Atlantis if a tsunami struck. The broadcast claimed it was reported on Al Jazeera but the news was as false as the lions escaping from the U.I zoo. Thank heavens! Our people say the cow way no get tail, na God dey pursue the flies. May the souls of those who died in the floods rest in peace!

I had a fabulous weekend with my girl R, catching up on eachother’s lives, trading spicy man-gist while sitting with an orgasmic cheesecake atΒ Ice cream factory and it was heaven as always and while I was at it, I spotted a Lagos celeb and began mentally comparing his photos to his real life persona, meanwhile my friend was sizing up his hands. I didn’t realize this was going on till she commented that he was lacking in the trouser department and was obviously a nervous and narcissistic person. I choked on my hokey pokey icecream and stared at her in horror. After verifying that she hadn’t colored with him, I asked her how she knew such scandalous info about this near stranger and she said she had looked at his hands. According to R, a man’s hands said it all. If his thumbs were small, so was his package, if his nails were very short, he was a nervous person (guess biting his nails had to do with that) and if his hands were small, he was narcissistic. I laughed so hard cos I did think privately that he was a Nigerian Johnny Bravo. πŸ™‚ While still giggling about that, my friend C changed his BB status to ‘You can tell a girl’s hustle by looking at her legs’. I immediately pinged him to ask what exactly my legs said to him…the answer has been censored… πŸ˜‰ Seems our body parts say more about us than we’d want to. A woman’s nails speak volumes of her cleanliness and a man’s feet whisper more tales about his package. Wonder who funded all this research? πŸ™‚ Anyway ladies, the next time you meet a hot, new guy, be sure to ask him to show you his hands but remember that it’s not the size of the fish that matters but how well he can swim in the ocean. πŸ˜‰

How I’d missed Lasgidi, so many things had changed since the last time I was around. Lagosians are no longer afraid of LASTMA. Surprise, surprise! Reminds me of a father who kept flogging his son till one day the son learnt to ‘chest’ it and stretched his hand out defiantly to collect his koboko… and they’d even learnt to do that and still keep their money in their wallets. And has anyone noticed the circus on Lagos roads these days? First we had mopo and yellow fever, then in came Lastma and now we have VIO and some other uniformed peeps. Everyone demanding respect, particulars and egunje. Feels like an owambe with different officers in their various aso-ebi demanding attention and exacerbating the Lagos traffic! Had to part with a thousand naira when my cab man was apprehended for not having a particular license and the guy was in tears as he hadn’t a kobo on him…Lagos, only the strong survive.

On a closing note, we slept in July and woke up in August! Happy new month peeps, let’s take out the clutter of dreams unfulfilled, broken promises, relationships going nowhere, procastination and ideas put on hold and embrace a new month and a fresh new start. Have a great day peeps…xoxoxo πŸ˜‰

 
20 Comments

Posted by on August 1, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Uncategorized

 

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*5 nominations…Yippee!!!

Β  Β Guess what peeps? Our very own ‘Memoirs of a woman with Chutzpah’ got nominated for 5 different categories in the Nigerian Blog Awards. My heart was beating so fast when I clicked the link to see what blogs got nominated. I warned MTN under my breath to better behave as the page loaded and lo and behold there we were. I couldn’t have done it without you guys, my avid readers. And to celebrate, I poured a libation of cold Coca Cola down my throat. Ah well that ruined my diet for the day, but it was all for you… πŸ˜‰

It’s not over yet guys, the race just begun. We have to VOTE! VOTE!! VOTE!!!

Warri no dey carry last oh!

so here are the categories we were nominated for: *Drumroll*

-> Best Blog by a Nigeria-based Blogger

-> Best New Blog

->Β Best Personal Blog

-> Most Inspiring Blog

->Β Nigerian Blog of the Year

*Applause*

I feel like a politician trying to get votes.

So my people here is my manifesto… πŸ˜‰

– If you vote for me, I will make sure every chick with a big bele gets a free tummy tuck!

– If you vote for me, I will ensure that every corrupt politician is kidnapped and his entire stolen wealth demanded for as ransom!

– If you vote for me, I will make Friday a work-free day!

– If you vote for me, I will ensure that only hot celebrities have nude pics on twitter!

– If you vote for me, I will ensure that all the policemen on the road have at least 10 twenty naira notes in their pockets at all times!

– If you vote for me, I will ensure Boko Haram gives us at least a week’s warning before bombing a place!

– If you vote for me, I shall scrap NYSC and make all graduates collect allowee till they get jobs (social security)

– If you vote for me, I will ensure the presidency sends a delegate bearing gifts to every inter-tribal marriage to foster national integration and unity!

– If you vote for me, I shall post a picture of me planking! (#planking-new fad…go to twitter for details or http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lying_down_game)

– and lastly if I win, I shall post a 2 second video of me dancing windeck in your honor! hehehehe

Terms and conditions only apply if your votes lead to victory! πŸ˜‰

So what are you waiting for? VOTE VOTE VOTEEEEEEE

Get your friends and friends of friends to vote!

Let’s make chutzpah-history! πŸ˜‰

πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰

P.S: Go toΒ http://nigerianblogawards.com/vote.phpΒ to vote or click on the link on the lower right side of my blog. Voting ends on 9th July, 2011. Remember to check your mail boxes/spam for the confirmation email and to click on the link in it so that your vote can be counted!

I crave your indulgence, new posts coming soon.

Love and appreciate you all! xoxoxo πŸ˜‰

 
8 Comments

Posted by on June 28, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Bele!

Β  21, 22, 23, 24……..her phone rings and interrupts her tummy squelching sit-ups. ‘No sir, I am not having sex, I’m breathless because I’m doing exercises…’

She looks at the tummy, if one can call it that. Tummies are supposed to be flat and toned like the girls on MTV not folding like a towel at Transcorp Hilton or jiggly like Shakira doing her thing. This one is definitely a bele!Β She holds her breath and sucks it in, it looks good from the front but from the side, she looks like she is pouring a drink offering to the god of gluttony! What d’hell?

25, 26, 27, 28…..she remembers the mountain of eba she ate, damn! Washing it down with a bottle of small stout was a bad idea. 29, 30….and that tub of icecream Moses bought her. The guy was unbelievable! He liked his women endowed with big succulent boobs and an ass that could only be described as idi-araba! Yet he wanted her waist as small as the elastic band on his boxers and her stomach as flat as his flat screen plasma. Had he not seen her mother’s bele before he toasted her? How she wished her tummy was as flat as the girls she sometimes caught his eyes eagerly scoping like vultures circling their next meal. He had better know that a big stomach was a great cushion for his head after a long day and he could always pretend it was a 3rd breast! Men were so hard to please….31, 32, 33, 34….she remembered the size of Moses’s gut and chuckled. Did he think she didn’t want her very own real life Denzel? Hian! He called it a sign of good living, she called it one nkwobi-beer combo too many! She was sure he had forgotten how the regions below his belly looked and she sniggered every time he pushed his car seat back to create room for his investment! πŸ˜‰ 35, 36, 37….what would she wear for that party oh?! She groaned as memories of her last shopping expedition came to mind. What were those New york designers thinking when they left little or no space for plus sized tummies? She had struggled into ill-fitting dress after ill-fitting dress, looking for the dress that would make her look like the sex godess she was and had only conceded to buy the black chiffon gown when the frustrated attendant, threatened to bring her dresses from the maternity section. She wasn’t fat, goodness no she was only endowed in one place too many!

38, 39, 40, 41….The truth was she had been proud of her pot belly, flaunting it in bikinis and wiggling it like a belly dancer when the beat allowed. She could’ve sworn the men who pursued her were attracted to that round soft belly. She boasted to the skinny girls with abs that Picasso and the great artists of old, only painted women with tummies like hers. Yes, she considered herself a masterpiece. Her perception of her body image hadn’t changed but now she found herself conforming to the almost completely westernized culture that had become the rule book dictating her people’s perception of beauty. The doctors said her large gut wasn’t healthy, well she’d inherited it from her grandma who had eaten okporoko till she was eighty eight! She counted to 50 and stopped. Glistening with sweat and breathless, she glanced at her tummy hoping to see it had shrunk an inch or so but alas it was all there, defiant like a Niger-delta militant!

Puuuush she cried, inhaling deeply as she tried to force herself into the corseted dress she had chosen to punish herself with. Even after all the exercise, her tummy refused to be bullied into smaller confines. Puuush! Still no luck, with beads of sweat on her forehead and panting like she’d run a mile, she threw her hands up in defeat!

Was it her fault that amala and eba were staple foods in nigeria? Was it her fault that her tummy decided staying unnoticed was a crime against humanity? What did her gym instructors with their perfect little bodies know about true beauty? She may not be able to wear a belly ring that would peek through the folds but which of those non-existent tummies would support the native beads grandma had made just for her? Why would she consider a tummy tuck or liposuction when others had died trying to do wuruwuru to the answer?! She was an african woman abeg! Built like a rock, made to last. She didn’t have freckles and she never turned pink. She could wake up at dawn to feed her family, keep three jobs and still have enough energy to pound yam and pound her husband all in a day’s job.

That bele of hers looked good in a blouse and wrapper and proudly provided support for her breasts with or without a bra. Her husband found it easy to spot her in a crowd and could beat his chest and exclaim that his wife was well taken care of. Yes a big belly wasn’t fashion forward but it didn’t make her any less of a woman. She was a proud african woman with skin like an oil-painting, a backside like a station wagon, breasts like talking drums and a belly like the oba’s palace. She was beautiful, every stretch mark and cellulite telling a wonderous tale. She was groomed to weather any storm, a maiden fit for kings and she’d give you a run for your money anyday. Bele or no bele, she was on fire! πŸ˜‰

…for all the authentic african women out there, you are perfect just the way you are!!! Have a lovely day peeps, xoxoxoxo πŸ˜‰

 
10 Comments

Posted by on June 5, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Uncategorized

 

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#Dear Future Husband

Β My one&only husby,

I’m hoping you read this but even if I haven’t met you, I know I will soon. We’ve all been waiting for you for a while now. What’s keeping you? Was your flight delayed or are you too busy making our millions? My aunties keep asking, my mum keeps praying and even my father has a look in his eyes these days like “Oh girl, how far? Wetin dey happen?” I used to tell them you were on the next bus coming into town but then I realised that my future husband would have a car and not just one of those that went toh-toh-toh with thick exhaust fumes and body-odor laced wind-conditioning. Also he would not be a johnny-just-come so brothers in the village or who recently moved to town please do not see me in a vision or ask pastor about me.

My dear husband, tribe is not important but surnames are important. I don’t want our kids teased in school. If you cannot pronounce your own surname without gulping air, I suggest you get a new one. Also if your parents named your nephew Victory-over-satan or Hygienius please inform them that they will not be naming our kids. I heard about a woman whose Mother-in-law gave her kids horrible tribal marks while she was at work. May I inform you that if that ever happens, I will sue! I want bright kids so if you are an average-joe, I suggest you up your game and get a Ph.D so you don’t have to lie to your children that you came first in school.

Smelly, hairy arm-pits are disgusting, I want to be able to smell your pheromones without choking. I like CK euphoria, please make it your primary scent, especially when you want me to give you some after a long day…it makes me all warm inside! I hope you are not one of those men who don’t flush toilets. Your shit ain’t one of the seven wonders of the world and I couldn’t care less if it took you ten minutes to get it out. I will not applaud the feat and the sooner it’s forgotten the better for us all. If in your single days, you and your friends thought it amusing to entertain yourselves with fart of different sounds, duration and concentrations, please note that I am royalty and such behaviour will be severely frowned at. Boxers should not be recycled unless I am out of town! Any funky smell whatsoever would land you sleeping on the couch! And if you think an Al Qaeda beard or a body hairy like a bear is cool or you have to wear boxers a size larger to accommodate all the hair in there and you think it is sexy, then obviously you must have used jazz to get me and I must warn you that my mother is a pastor and I will not visit you in Yaba-left when you finally go mad as punishment for casting a smell um I mean spell upon me!

Now I’ll be second wife to only one entity, football. Not because I’m so crazy about the game but because I figure you can’t cheat and watch football at the same time. So your attachment to your team is inversely proportional to your straying. Yes, about straying…I know you’ll be a CEO or a senior manager one day but my dear husband, female secretaries and PA’s with boobs are a no-no. I also don’t think a house girl is ideal but since I don’t want a house boy molesting my girls, I’m considering hiring a 42 year old female day time house-keeper. Not that I don’t trust you boo but nobody leaves meat around for the dogs to learn self-control with. Also if we are driving by or surrounded by women, I expect you to have tunnel-vision and I should be the only light at the end of your tunnel. I’ll ask you if I’m hotter than Halle Berry every once in a while and knowing how smart and peace-loving the man I married is, his answer will always be an enthusiastic ‘Yes!’.
You are allowed to enjoy your beer though I will not tolerate drunken displays, you are no longer a teenager. If you come home late at night with stale beer-breath and expect me to kiss you without throwing up in your mouth, please make use of the Listerine in the bathroom before any amorous attempts. I do not condone smoking and I can sniff out cigarette smoke a mile away. I really don’t care about it killing your lungs, you are an adult and if you choose to make me a widow early in life, that’s your choice but permit me to remarry. The reason I will not stand you smoking around me is that secondary smokers die first, so if you plan to kill me off, do it in a more ingenious way rather than making me die a long painful death in cancer’s cold grip!
Please be warned that my uncle’s an AIG and so if you are presently a swindler, yahoo-boy or gambler I will hand you over to him without remorse and never bring you food or come see you in jail. I cannot have police coming to my house with search warrants. Have you seen a house after the police search it? It takes days to get it back in order not to mention the neighbors’ gossip. We are a good christian family and I’d like to keep it that way, who knows you may be deacon one day!

Where staying out late is concerned, please make sure you take your key and if you expect any late night loving or a listening ear for your alcohol-induced excited chatter, please come home before midnight. When we argue please do not storm out of the house. Be warned that I’d have locked the door prior to a fight if I notice you are one of those men who run when mad. I don’t want you driving into a tree and killing yourself before I have a chance to apologize and tell you how much I love you. I hear you men like to storm off and head to a beer-parlor where you can drink your beer and calm yourself down when angry. Well honey, there’ll be beer in the fridge and we have a parlor, I won’t intrude, knock yourself out! Please remember that we are on the same team and that the sun must not go down on our anger. Please always remember to fight fair. I will not call you names or bring up a list of your past faults and I don’t expect you to do so either. Also do not under any circumstances hit me or even push me. I am your woman and I bruise easily. I know I did not marry a coward cos what other sort of man would hit a woman? Remember I may be irrational, impulsive and impatient sometimes but you are still my protector. Don’t make me learn karate!!!

Please do not be a one to three-minute-man. I will not fake the big ‘O’ so that you know when exactly you are not getting it right. I will try most things but draw the line at bizarre. I know men are useless after *** but please muster up enough strength after I tire you out to cuddle me and call me those beautiful names that make me blush before you doze of and try not to snore, it ruins it for me and keeps me tossing and turning hours after you’ve made your grand entry into dreamland.

I will cook any and everything for you as I am an accomplished cook and I know that being a reasonable man, you will not err as long as I keep your tummy, ego and junior well satisfied but I would prefer you didn’t send me to the kitchen to make fufu, starch or groundnut soup. If you have a strong affiliation for those foods that cannot be satisfied with pounded yam and banga soup or eba and edikainkong or semo and egusi soup, I suggest we visit your mother from time to time so you can suck breast but much as I hate the above listed food, I will cook them all day, every day to keep my home. If you ever think the money you give me for food is too much, please know that you will be accompanying me to the market on my next trip for a feasibility study!

Please don’t think that because I haven’t listed the usual ‘ten things I want in a man’, I do not require them. I want a man who stands up for me, one who defends me 100% in public even if he’ll chastise me in private. I want a man who massages me after a long day and doesn’t think it unheard of to give me breakfast in bed more than once a year since I’ll be pampering him 363 days in a year. I want a man who knows how to handle my PMS in a compassionate and kind manner and is patient with my imperfections. I must warn you that I will not be a ‘Stepford-wife’ and I will get on your every last nerve once in a while but I will love you unconditionally, pray for you unfailingly, trust you implicitly, worry about you when you are sick, share all your burdens, take care of our children, stay awake till you come home at night, stay faithful even when you have a gut the size of china and need viagra the same way you need water and still be your number one fan. I’m your woman and I cannot wait for the first day of the rest of our lives….

Come quick!

Yours sincerely,
Wifey!

P.S: I wonder how much DHL will charge to find you and deliver this letter. Have a lovely night my husband, your unborn children say wassup…xoxoxo πŸ˜‰

 
62 Comments

Posted by on May 23, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Relationships

 

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A wedding, a death and all between…

Β  Β So a lot has happened since the last time I was here. Elections were won, disgruntled politicians ran to court, violence broke out and lives were lost.
My blog started when I was a corper serving in Akure and my deepest heartfelt sympathy goes out to the families that lost their sons and daughters to the post-election massacres in the north. NYSC and the Federal government failed to protect them from the tragedy they lured them into. May their souls rest in perfect peace and may they always be remembered and honored.

Prince Williams, that cute first born of the late princess Diana finally picked himself a wife. The bad news is that she wasn’t Nigerian. The good news is that Nigerians celebrated like she was our very own daughter. I was amazed by how excited Nigerians were about the Royal wedding. You can’t but love Nigerians. I had to double check the wedding I.V to be sure the wedding wasn’t between Prince William Okoronkwo 1 of Utuh LGA and Kate Uduak Middleton. I heard it was a Nigerian that organized the guest list. Why Obama no get wedding invitation? He wan make im beef us? Don’t fret everyone, Prince Harry still dey very single.
All I can say about that middle-class Middleton is that levels don change now! Isn’t it wonderful to marry well. Trust me crying on a bed in Buckingham palace thoroughly beats crying on a tattered mattress in a face me I face you, one bedroom apartment. I wonder what faults she had to close her eyes to, to make sure she saw it through to the altar. Could Prince Williams be one of those men who didn’t flush the toilet? Or one of those dudes who came back home late and drunk? Could he have been a girlfriend beater? Or maybe just one of those men who liked to do their secretaries especially if their names were Monica. Could he have had women outside and she let him eat his egusi as long as she (the ogbona) was still his favorite soup? Could he have been a passive, phlegmatic, indecisive man who she had to constantly ginger? Was he lazy or short-tempered or dirty? Were his jokes too lame and his snores too loud? Could he satisfy her? 99 questions but all that matters is she’s royalty and you ain’t, she got her cinderella wedding and faults or no, half the women I know would change places with her at the drop of a hat!

As would be expected, everyone was suddenly afiliated with royalty. Nigerians wore branded t-shirts and caps with pictures of the royal couple and all TV stations were tuned in and since you all know Warri no dey carry last, yours truly had her own royal weddings to attend the day after the much-talked about wedding.
My cousins thought it wise to fix their wedding day the day after so the queen and the other dignitaries could catch the late flight afterall they had all bought aso-ebi.
In case you are wondering, we are Royalty, not the fake type that wear authentic crowns and live in Buckingham palace, no o, we are the real deal but we have to stay undercover because of our political enemies.
Our grandfather God bless his soul was the King of Ellu, which makes me princess Kome Umebese. Princess K for short. If you see me drive by make you holla at your princess oh! Isoko Wadoooo! Eh!
So naija men seize this unique opportunity to marry an authentic princess, offer valid while stock lasts!

Anyway back to the royal weddings…
You can imagine it was a big deal. There are three heirs to the Ellu throne and 2 chose to marry their sweethearts C and K who thankfully are not sisters, on the same day in the great city of Benin and nothing brings the family together like a great big combined wedding.
We chose Benin city cos it is the only city in Nigeria with credible rainmakers. They even have business cards and for a small fee will stop any wedding-day showers and also bring down rain on your enemy’s owambe.
As can be imagined, family trooped in from around the globe by plane, road, boat, okada even leggedis benz. Asoebi and gifts in hand.
I left las-gidi early in the morning, my eyes still groggy with sleep. I had done my hair till 3am cos being royalty, I have VIP hairdressers that sleep over, shout out to E, the hair caught me plenty sharks in Benin.
Decided to travel with Edegbe lines again and not because the bini people make road trips memorable.
The journey was bumpy and dusty mostly due to the horrible stretch of road from Ore to Benin and I was stuck in traffic for hours. The air-conditioning was a myth even though the bus had ‘A/C bus’ printed in bold letters on the doors. My contact lenses turned to fish scales threatening to scratch my eyes out and once I noticed some eye-shit as one of my lagos paddies calls it, I whipped ’em out and brought out my trusty eye-drops. Eyes are important oh! For a chick who has worn glasses for years and years, I know that half bread is still better than chin-chin.
The four-hour journey took double the time and would have been longer if police hadn’t been stuck in the traffic jam too. Our driver had taken the wrong lane to avoid the hold-up on ours only to meet more obstruction in front. When they walked up to him and asked him to go back, guns in hand, the guy soberly complied already regretting his foolhardy decision but the sharp bini men on the bus asked him to just reverse a little and clear out of the way and lo and behold the policemen’s motives became clear as their van breezed past us on the wrong lane! Well they did clear the way for us so please applaud. The trip to Benin was traumatic which made me analyze the penny wise, pound foolish theory but the comfort of the hotel room washed the fatigue away leaving me itching for some excitement.

The bachelors’ eve was cool, the peppersoup and suya on point. The DJ was more concerned with sucking the brains out of the catfish head and washing it down with a big bottle of stout than delivering fat jamz so nobody danced but we all had fun.
Shout out to my anambra in-law who kept asking for chicken suya and baileys. Abeg if you no get money, make you no carry this woman out oh! She doesn’t do shots, what is worth drinking is worth drinking well…shout out to Macy Gray!
And then there was babyboi. If you find it hard to understand why ten women would marry a man who wasn’t a billionaire then you haven’t met babyboi! It took him only 3 days to steal the hearts of the women of our clan. His unassuming charm and friendliness not to mention his cute smile and ever ready alcohol-opening devices endeared him to all who met him. Who knew one man could carry so many alcohol opening devices in his pocket? From cork screws to openers, this guy came prepared.
He claims he wasn’t a bartender in his former life but I suspect he had problems using his teeth to open beer back in the day, afterall who no wan chop kpomo in old age? Shout out to Senator Mav Benson, our very own corrupt politician who kept us thoroughly entertained and had babyboi blushing to his toes. It was a good night.

The porn industry has evolved over the years with hard-core, soft porn, blue films, SNL films, asian and chinese porn and old people’s porn but if you haven’t heard porn in Isoko then you are still a virgin! Shout out to T for killing us with laughter. She is one of the best make up artists I know but she obviously missed her calling as her rendition of what goes on, on a typical wedding night in Isoko kingdom had us tearing our pants in laughter. I really must learn my language cos all I speak now is english and lasgidish! Smh
So the couples said ‘I do’ and we kissed Benin city and Babyboi goodbye.

Back in Abuja, I had to defend my profession to the woman at the Federal Civil Service commission because she said I didn’t look like a doctor. I’d like to appeal to doctors to stop looking like doctors! The average doctor has poor dress sense and looks like na we dey suffer pass. Yes we are under-appreciated and under-paid but taste really has nothing to do with your pocket and a brown belt with black shoes really doesn’t go. #enuffsaid.
There was petrol scarcity and it became survival of the fittest. Some petrol stations had gate fees as executive touts seized the opportunity to make enough money to fuel their i-pass-my-neighbor generators and people woke up before dawn to keep their spaces on the queue. Black market prices went sky high and Audu made enough money to buy a keke marwa!
GEJ was on vacation celebrating his victory but as soon as he returned to aso villa, order returned to abuja!

I heard Osama is dead. I didn’t see the body but Obama doesn’t look like he spreads rumors so I’ll take his word for it. I wonder why Al-Qaeda have sworn revenge? The poor dude was holed up in a self-made prison for ten years hiding from the US government. He lost the right to walk the streets without a disguise even in Pakistan, the day he declared himself a terrorist and the world’s most wanted man but now that he is dead, his people should rejoice because he finally gets a vacation with more women than he could handle, all 70 being freaky virgins designed just for him and he gets to lounge all day and doesn’t need to worry bout a jealous wife or HIV or an unwanted pregnancy or premature ejaculation. He doesn’t need viagra or alomo cos he left his mangled, worn-out body behind. For being so infamous, he probably got all the beautiful ones and trust me, getting 70 women who are all hot and all virgins and all dead is no small feat! Thumbs up terrorist heaven. πŸ˜‰ The life of a suicide bomber and terrorist begins after death!
I rejoice with the Americans who finally got some closure ten years after the tragedy and with Obama whose popularity ratings are back on track!

And to all those hating on Karen in big brother amplified, I don’t know any of the housemates’ names but I know about Karen which means that whatever she’s doing, she’s doing it right. Sometimes you’ve gotta be all wrong to make a mark. πŸ™‚

Tomorrow is a monday unlike all other mondays…Make it count.
Sorry I have been off radar for a while! We’ll begin our β€Žlove affair from where we left off…

Have a lovely night peeps, xoxoxo πŸ˜‰

 
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Posted by on May 15, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Place ya hand!

Β  Β  Today Nigerians took their destiny in their hands. Today is the 16th of April and it didn’t start out as an ordinary day. Let me rewind to last night….
I stayed at work till late trying to beat a self-imposed deadline and being a half day as the place emptied, my thoughts soon began to echo. The security guards longed to drive the workaholics out of the building with kobokos but remembered they’d still need jobs long after the elections were over. Yes the atmosphere was charged.
My friend called that she was downstairs and I was forced out of my l’il office island and thrust into the pre-election frenzy. As I walked towards the stairs, I contemplated the elevator but remembered it had been giving problems and since the building was near empty, this would be the wrongest time to get stuck in the elevator. Note to self, get stuck in the elevator on one of the days there’s a prince charming around to rescue you.
I was snapped out of my reverie by hushed voices coming out of a closed, dim-lit office. I was transported into a scene from an action movie probably eavesdropping on some politicians doing last minute propaganda. I remembered my office was in a government building and scurried out before someone decided to throw a bomb.

My girl A was in town and the three of us oblivious to the impending curfew hit the town looking for some friday night fun.
A and I hadn’t watched the Tourist and K amidst laughter agreed to watch the film with us a second time at Silverbird.
We took the elevator (one I can trust!) and as we approached the ticket stand the woman sighting us hurried through the back door and slammed the door!
Since there was no scary-faced serial killer behind us (I checked) we asked the couple trying hard not to make-out by the ticket stand and the guy managed to offer an answer, eyes fixated on the woman’s boobs. “The cinema’s closed for today cos of the curfew.” We thanked him and I could imagine him blessing the Federal Government for the restricted movement the day after….nine months later they’d testify in church…hopefully!
We settled for ice-cream and meat pies and loads of girly gossip (Rev. Father I have sinned ;-)).
The atmosphere was charged, there were police and SSS everywhere and we had to open our boot for inspection. Guess Charley’s Angels has made it possible for three hot looking women to be fully armed and dangerous and we ain’t talking about our booty!
We spent the night gisting about men and dozed off. I had dreams of a lazy saturday but that was not to be…

Regrettably I did not place my hand under anything today. Not under the umbrella, not under the hot sun…nada! Why? Cos I registered in Lagos ages before I landed the job in Abuja and that singular move made me ineligible.
My friend K was determined to vote though she’d registered miles away from her house where we were having a one of a kind sleepover. I couldn’t imagine breaking the law. The major streets would be crawling with SSS and though we were all doctors, none of us had a valid i.d card. K had one she’d been issued in 2009 which she said along with 3 stethoscopes and doctors’ coats would fly. Now if it was mopo I would have had less palpitations but we were talking SSS and my liver failed me. I begged, I cajoled, I tried to reason with her. I wanted her to vote but she didn’t require 2 non-voting escorts. Prison bars flashed before my eyes. K was adamant. She wasn’t gonna let chick now chicken Anita ruin her plans or worse still allow either of her guests be home alone when NEPA wasn’t playing nice. So off we went…

K flew like the wind, I could’ve sworn she was doing 200km/hr. I pinged ‘him’ telling him what predicament I’d gotten myself into and gave him the numbers of my Abuja kin and backed that up with a prayer.
We got to her voting centre without incident. The armed ferocious looking guard wasn’t allowing people without voters cards enter the premises so A and I sat in the hot car and I imagined all the places I’d rather be.
After accreditation, K returned and informed us that we’d have to go home and return 2hrs later to vote. On our way home just at the city gate, we met our first band of SSS. They were dressed in plain clothes with bullet-proof vests on some of them and guns in plain sight. I closed my eyes and saw prison bars again…

We parked and as K wound down the glass, I mumbled the name of the hospital over and over again lest I forget. Imagine being asked where I work and I stammer and mumble some whimsical name. For Pete’s sake the average adult spends a greater part of the day at his/her job, how can you possibly forget where you work unless you don’t actually work there?
I was sweating like a christmas goat and even my thoughts were stammering. My throat was too dry to even attempt to form words so I stayed put clutching to my stethoscope and doctor’s coat like a medical student on his first day in clinical school. Lucky for me, they directed all their questions to ‘calm K’, checked the boot and sent us on our way.
I should testify in church right? There were cars and people already detained all around and it looked like deep s**t.

After the incidence I chopped liver mehn! We went back to vote, A and I doing supporters’ club and then we went wild. From Citec villa to Airport road to City gate to Gaduwa and then to Apo. Everytime we met the SSS, it was the same routine, we were the untouchables and though we weren’t dressed like doctors, our stethoscopes were real enough.
And as K rightly pointed out, doctors are overworked, under-paid and under-appreciated so if these are the only perks of the job we should enjoy it to the fullest. We had delicious assorted meat peppersoup at Gaduwa, shout out to O and her cutie pie, redwine and asaro at Apo courtesy my guy T and more fun than was legal at the time. Lots of toasts were made as we celebrated Nigeria and a free and fair election.

I really wish I could’ve voted but like millions of Nigerians, I had registered in a place too far away to vote. I did say a prayer for Nigeria and I hope one day it won’t matter where you vote as long as you have registered.
Now the whole of Nigeria waits with bated breaths for an announcement that will surely change our lives. It’s raining in Abuja and I can only imagine they are showers of blessings. Nigeria is truly a blessed nation. I have decided to pass my waiting time at the cinema watching the Tourist and I promise you that I will be holding my breath.

Congrats Nigerians, we’ve done our part, INEC do yours and please JEGA no stories! Have a great evening folks….xoxoxo

*Sorry I haven’t updated my blog in a long while, I was too busy sorting out my life but now can we be friends again? πŸ˜‰

 
8 Comments

Posted by on April 16, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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A tale of two cities

Β  I’ve always loved Abuja. It has all the things I love about Lagos and less of the things I hate.
We’d always flirted around, our trysts lasting for three to five days at a time. Wild exciting nights in the capital city. My lover enticed me with her clubs, fish joints and quiet swagger and then we saw each other more as our affair blossomed, I began to memorize her roads, sight landmarks and be welcomed into the inner caucus. I was out to explore.

She dazzled me with a new lifestyle and begged me to change my perception and get a new orientation. I saw things that made me marvel. Point and kill rabbits in a garden-resort where preserving greenlife was their hallmark. The rabbits tried and found guilty of decades of grass-nibbling awaited their execution. I felt a wave of nausea as I looked at the innocent eyes of the rabbits their fates already sealed. The polo clad cannibals were justified in their protection of the grass as their own contribution towards preventing total annihilation from the depleting ozone layer and if along the way a delicious meal was thrown in, who were they to refuse.

I was amazed that instead of being sold gala and bottled coke in the well-ordered traffic, I was offered gold rings and other form of jewellry by non-Hausa, street hawkers. Our own l’il Las Vegas. ‘Madam make oga buy you this nice gold ring, I go put in one chain for you. Church dey for the next junction!’ I laughed all the way to the airport! Marriage made easy 101. Guys you are fast running out of excuses! πŸ˜‰

The airport sadly is something I’ll greatly miss my trusty lover Lagos for. MM2 thanks to Wale Babalakin is all the things the Abuja airport is not. As I waited for my flight on a supposed queue being jostled by disgruntled passengers, I got serenaded by touts left, right and center and avoided eye-contact as every person who caught my eye unceremoniously demanded a tip. I switched to Oshodi mode and got it over and done with quickly enough. It was a tryst through and through, ridden with exciting tales to tell.

While sowing my wild oats, an old flame called.
Benin was one of those lovers that called you up once in a while and it was like not a day had gone by since the last time you were together. The place remained the same. I decided to go by road and Edegbe lines was the logical choice being an old faithful. It was an executive fully air-conditioned bus and the passengers were mostly students. The trip was a jolly one with fast-flowing Bini conversations blocking out the hi-life music in the background. All was well till a passenger, Mr X decided to cause chaos by farting in the enclosed air-tight bus. Now if there was any other ethnic group packed in the bus, we may have been able to downplay and possibly ignore the eroding of our nasal linings and inherent asphyxiation but not the Bini people. They cursed and squirmed and covered their noses with anything from a handky to nylon bags. They cursed his diet, his ass, his lack of bus etiquettes and his ‘shamelessness’ in fluent pidgin and then a good Samaritan thought it most helpful to spray a generous amount of perfume Y into the air-tight confines which had us all coughing and wheezing with the acrid mix of eau de fart! At Ore when we stopped to eat, the passengers warned the unknown offender to locate a toilet and not to buy any eggs or beans. Outspoken and audacious, these people were only concerned about breathing in at least 20% pure oxygen given the circumstances. The rest of the trip was uneventful. Benin embraced me, toasted me with freshly plucked chickens and banga soup. It tempted me away from the hustle and bustle of Las gidi to a more rustic lifestyle without letting go of the vibrancy of city life. I felt the sting of a soldier ants and the bite of sand-flies anew. Pidgin english was the acceptable lingo with a lilt that was entirely theirs. But an old flame is an old flame and soon our time was up. My heart longed for Lagos and away I went.

The dude loading the travelling bags on the bus threatened to mark my face and treat my f**k up cos I refused to tip him after being over-charged for my trip. He hadn’t treated it there and then because several passengers had within earshot warned me to ignore him. I laughed, little did he know that Benin was just a classic case of ‘Okafor’s law’. We’d been lovers once, years ago when I was a kid and my dad made me spend a greater part of my summer holidays in Benin with my dear uncle and an opportunity had arisen to renew the warmth of this old flame but that being done, it was time to let bygones be bygones. I had gotten closure. He could do me no harm even if he tried though I did hope I didn’t have a look-alike in Benin.

As I returned to Lagos, I felt the familiar stirring of my heart as I looked upon my home but something was amiss. Abuja had made an offer I couldn’t refuse. She wanted to be more than friends with benefits. She had me sprung with a hint of a future I’d only imagined. So I kissed Lagos goodbye and hopped on a plane with a one-way ticket to the arms of a casual lover offering a more meaningful relationship.

My welcome party started at Cubana with Tuface Idibia in the house. It was an after-wedding party and a wonderful way to baptize me into the Abuja crowd.
I was armed with all of my Lagos swagger and was secretly impressed at how calm people were. In Lagos, if a celeb hit an excusive club, at least one ‘bros’ could be bet on to go over-board and need restraint from the unsmiling bodyguards but not here. Tuface hugged and shook everyone in a genial manner, ordered Moet on the house and settled down on the couch opposite me, grinning from ear to ear. The DJ too was on-point. Instead of indulging in hero-worship and putting away his mix-tapes to play Tuface’s latest album back to back, he played some fat oldies which got everyone dancing to a fevered pitch. I couldn’t understand why some of the girls with their over-priced brazilian hair would wear slippers akin to flip-flops to club, I reckoned they must be Brazilian too. πŸ™‚

Today I’m off to Kaduna with a health guru, an entrepeneur and an international strategist to look at a site for a world-class facility and I smile to myself…Life has only begun and Abuja has stolen my heart!

Have a great sunday people…xoxo

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Memoirs

 

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