Posts
There was a day when I was about 9 and I just didn’t feel like going to school. I had learnt from an early age that there was no pulling the wool over my mum’s eyes when it came to being sick. Short of having a temperature of a 110° and growing new appendages in weird and unusual places, you were getting a tablespoon of Multivite/ Niverquine (depending on what kind of mood she was in), putting on your Bata sandals and going to school. So it was a good thing she was away when I decided to pull a sicky to get out of the fact that I hadn’t written some boring essay. I walked to my dad’s room; put on the appropriate I’m about to die face and knocked on his door.
Another thing I had learnt from an early age was that my dad is not a morning person and has no clue what to do with children. He likes his sleep. So me banging on his door was not appreciated.
“What do you want”? He yells from behind the door.
“I’m sick daddy”.
“What’s wrong with you”?
“I have a headache and my tummy hurts”.
“Fine, go back to sleep”.
End of conversation and mission accomplished.
I crawled back to bed and sniggered into my pillow as my saddo brother was dragged into the waiting car to several hours of pointless learning (I am still yet to find a situation where the Pythagorean theory comes in handy). Now looking back on that day I feel crappy. Not because I lied (I do that everyday. If I ever felt guilty about it I would be a total nutter in need of intensive therapy) or that I took joy in my brothers pain but because that was obviously the day they took all the girls into a separate room and taught them the 10 simple rules on having and keeping a relationship. Damn you! Mr Amadu and your stupid Muslim studies essay.
It’s happening again…Snogger dude has turned into a total weirdo and I’ve spent the last week looking for an NHS funded loony bin to check myself into. I spend all my time crying and singing, “Unbreak my heart” by Toni Braxton. Well I had to stop singing after the tenant association voted to evict me from my flat if the “Unholy howling” as they called it continued. I was hoping all this misery would help me lose some of my roundness but its actually having the opposite effect. But what the hell do I care. I did not attend or graduate from Relationship 101 so no point even attempting to look cute to get into another one.
Nope! No more of the opposite sex for me. I’m going adopt lots of cats and gerbils (I just like the word gerbil) and move to a cottage on a hill in Wales. I’ll knit jumpers for my cats cause its cold in Wales. Yep! That sounds like a plan to me. I know you’re all screaming "Mena don’t do it"!!!! You’re to lovely to be lost to the world knitting mittens for kittens (Hehe! That rhymes). Fine! I know you guys aren’t mentally capable of surviving without my words of wisdom. But something has to be done about my total lack of dating skills or my internal magnet that attracts every psycho, sex pervert and relationship phobic within a 5-mile radius. I simply can’t take another relationship catastrophe or I will simply have to find a way to grow facial hair and become a lesbian who lives on a hill in Wales knitting mittens for kittens.
Before I take drastic steps lets analyse me as a girlfriend. For once you guys might actually have some intelligent insight into my dilemma. Not holding my breath so you guys don’t hurt yourselves by thinking to hard.
WHAT MAKES MENA AN AWESOME GIRLFRIEND
I know I’m weird, have dodgy habits and can be a tad psycho but these are all loveable aspects of my personality once you get used to them. They make me interesting and fun to be with.
I’m a little round but its not like he was blind and didn’t see my baby bump before he asked me out. Anyway, I only look 3 months pregnant when I’m wearing my super pants.
Hmmm…Maybe I shouldn’t have drawn a face on my tummy and made it look as if it was singing by swaying side to side though. I thought it was hilarious but he did look kinda scared.
I’m not even concerned about my snogging skills because I have several written references testifying to my awesomeness in that department.
I can cook and I’m not talking dodo and eggs like some people whose names I won’t mention. Of course I’m not talking about you Grays nee SE Chick.
I brush my teeth.
I bathe regularly with smelly girly stuff. He sometimes says he doesn’t like my Bodyshop stuff as the all smell like food and it makes him hungry (Yep! He’s a weirdo). He doesn’t want to be thinking about food when he’s nibbling on my ear apparently. Like I care. The stuff costs a fortune and as long as it doesn’t get in the way of a good ear nibbling he can think I’m fruit salad for all I care.
I shave my legs, pittys and other areas. Yes sometimes he gets all baby like and sulks when I use his razor telling me I blunt the blade. What’s he saying exactly…that my body hair is made from titanium steel or what?
I only nag when absolutely necessary, like when he forgets to tell me how lucky he is to have me or chews his food in that caveman like manner or when he ignores me for football or when he doesn’t stroke my legs with the right amount of pressure or when he dozen’ t remember that its the anniversary of the first day he said the word girlfriend, cute, sexy or sleep over or….
Ok maybe I need cut back on my constant but highly constructive comments.
When the time is right he will benefit from the extensive knowledge gained from my pop-up Karma Sutra Manual. He keeps asking when the time will be right and I keep telling him when I need glasses from constantly being blinded from the glare of my yellow diamond engagement ring. Joker! No ones milking this cow without a down payment.
I pretend to listen when he starts going on about sports, politics and how many miles per gallon some blooming sport car goes. Obviously he does catch me out once in awhile and then I have to think fast before he gets moody. I find any sentence involving boobs; sex or booty usually distracts him long enough for me to wriggle out of it. Try this one ladies …when he says are you listening to me just go” Sorry baby. My bra just snapped and my boobs are just all over the place. Hang on while get changed” Wait a couple of minutes and then just go “Sorry baby…you were saying?” This buys you time to catch the end of Eastenders and avoid a night of your man sulking. Yes! I am a genius.
So tell me…what man wouldn’t want me?
So I just don’t get it.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Breaking News...Mena is happy!
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me and he loves me not? Stupid flower! Grow more blooming petals damn it! Lets start again…He loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, HE LOVES ME! hehehehehehe. Isn’t the whole wide world just peachy? Yeah there’s war, pestilence and I’m still round but hey everything on planet Mena is pretty cool.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t seem to have the usual urge scream at people and be generally obnoxious. I even gave up my sit on the bus today to a preggy lady. I don’t usually bother. I tend to stick out my own little Buddha belly as far as it will go and pretend to be expecting myself. I personally don’t see why I should suffer for someone else’s night of passion. I’m not jealous. No siree! I’m just bitter. Believe me there is a difference. Anyway, the way I see it I’m doing them a favour. Keeping those legs of theirs nice firm for all the ass kicking they are going to be doing to their other halfs once those contractions set in.
Everything has just been kind of different lately. I guess its because I have a boyfriend. Hehehehehe. Gosh! I have to say it again…I have a boyfriend. Yes! People. No more Chinese take out for 1. It is now pounded yam a duex (Obviously not my choice. It’s only been a couple of weeks. A little more time and I can get the boy to eat Sushi). I’m sure those of you that know me well have only one question to ask.” How they hell did she pull it off”. To be honest, I’m asking the same question myself. It’s been hard keeping my true nature under wraps. I am after all a paranoid nutter. So It’s been a very long 6 weeks of
· Pretending to eat only HEALTHY stuff. Ben & Jerry’s have suffered a loss in profit since I met him. And yesterday the manager of the Golden Wok, my local Chinese take out, called by to just make sure I was still alive.
· Wearing full make up before I leave the house. Just in case he decides to surprise me by turning up at my office. All my colleagues think I’ve had botox or something but believe me its just Mac.
· If he stays over, waking up early to make sure my eyes aren’t crusty and to brush my teeth for my good morning snog. That’s a good 15 minutes of valuable sleeping time lost. And before all you family members start…my Barbie pyjamas stay on at all times. Well…98.45% of the time. Sometimes they just have a mind of their own. They must be those new self removing pyjamas just invented in Japan.
· Keeping my multiple personalities under check. I have been Mena the sane for the past 6 weeks and its been an absolute nightmare. Mena the crazy, Mena the sex starved but can’t have any and Mena the mean are all dying from neglect. How long must I wait before I can be the real me??? Boo hoo!
· Remembering not to pull my g-string out of my private places when we are walking down the street hand in hand. And not to walk around the flat without my boulder holders incase I turn round too fast and take one of his eyes out. Yep! Those babies can be lethal in the right setting.
· Curtailing the urge to call every 5 seconds just to check he hasn’t changed his number and moved to Japan.
· Reducing the number of times I’ve googled his name to ensure he isn’t wanted by the police for bigamy.
· Resisting the urge to slap him silly and stamp on his toes when he pisses me off by telling me my snoring is shaking the roof. Really!! The nerve of some people. Mena? Snore? As if. Ijebu chick has told me that the normal response is to maintain a dignified silence until he begs to be forgiven. I personally think slapping him silly will produce the same results, will be much faster and will definitely be much more enjoyable.
· Not balancing a plate of Nacho’s and a tub of Ben&Jerry’s Cookie Dough on my tummy whilst laughing hysterically at new and interesting ways to murder people on CSI. The last time I did that he was a tad weary about spending the night seeing as we had just had an argument about who snores louder (I obviously do but am I going to tell him that?) He kept looking under the mattress for hidden weapons.
· Not talking about Tyrese and his hot abs whilst he’s getting dressed, eating, in the shower etc This apparently makes him feel insecure. He should…Tyrese is a love god. Not that I’m complaining about my boo but hey I have to hear him go on about Angelina Jolie so me thinks we are even.
On the plus side
· He calls me …he has learnt the hard way that not calling results in me sulking for eternity and withdrawing snogging privileges.
· He says the sweetest thing.
· He doesn’t ignore me when I am sulking, which satisfies my constant need for attention.
· He’s seen my Buddha belly in the flesh and hasn’t gone blind, insane or left the country.
· He is a snogging wizard but that’s just between us guys…for any of you church goers, just ignore all references to snogging, sleeping over and self-removing pyjamas.
· He gives amazing cuddles
· He makes me laugh like crazy
· And he thinks I’m the sexiest being that ever lived…apart from Angela Jolie of course but I ain’t bitter. I’ve still got my life size Tyrese cut-out.
· He misses me when I ain’t there which, having come from a family that holds “A thank goodness she’s not here” party every time I leave the room, makes me feel kinda special.
Ok! Nobody go out to buy aso ebi just yet. Yes he seems normal but that’s only because I haven’t unleashed any of my personalities on him yet. For the next couple of weeks I will gently re-introduce all my other me’s into the relationship and see what happens. Come back next week to find out how Snogger Dude gets along with the many faces of Mena. I am off to wax my legs in case he wants to stroke them whilst watching Match of the day.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t seem to have the usual urge scream at people and be generally obnoxious. I even gave up my sit on the bus today to a preggy lady. I don’t usually bother. I tend to stick out my own little Buddha belly as far as it will go and pretend to be expecting myself. I personally don’t see why I should suffer for someone else’s night of passion. I’m not jealous. No siree! I’m just bitter. Believe me there is a difference. Anyway, the way I see it I’m doing them a favour. Keeping those legs of theirs nice firm for all the ass kicking they are going to be doing to their other halfs once those contractions set in.
Everything has just been kind of different lately. I guess its because I have a boyfriend. Hehehehehe. Gosh! I have to say it again…I have a boyfriend. Yes! People. No more Chinese take out for 1. It is now pounded yam a duex (Obviously not my choice. It’s only been a couple of weeks. A little more time and I can get the boy to eat Sushi). I’m sure those of you that know me well have only one question to ask.” How they hell did she pull it off”. To be honest, I’m asking the same question myself. It’s been hard keeping my true nature under wraps. I am after all a paranoid nutter. So It’s been a very long 6 weeks of
· Pretending to eat only HEALTHY stuff. Ben & Jerry’s have suffered a loss in profit since I met him. And yesterday the manager of the Golden Wok, my local Chinese take out, called by to just make sure I was still alive.
· Wearing full make up before I leave the house. Just in case he decides to surprise me by turning up at my office. All my colleagues think I’ve had botox or something but believe me its just Mac.
· If he stays over, waking up early to make sure my eyes aren’t crusty and to brush my teeth for my good morning snog. That’s a good 15 minutes of valuable sleeping time lost. And before all you family members start…my Barbie pyjamas stay on at all times. Well…98.45% of the time. Sometimes they just have a mind of their own. They must be those new self removing pyjamas just invented in Japan.
· Keeping my multiple personalities under check. I have been Mena the sane for the past 6 weeks and its been an absolute nightmare. Mena the crazy, Mena the sex starved but can’t have any and Mena the mean are all dying from neglect. How long must I wait before I can be the real me??? Boo hoo!
· Remembering not to pull my g-string out of my private places when we are walking down the street hand in hand. And not to walk around the flat without my boulder holders incase I turn round too fast and take one of his eyes out. Yep! Those babies can be lethal in the right setting.
· Curtailing the urge to call every 5 seconds just to check he hasn’t changed his number and moved to Japan.
· Reducing the number of times I’ve googled his name to ensure he isn’t wanted by the police for bigamy.
· Resisting the urge to slap him silly and stamp on his toes when he pisses me off by telling me my snoring is shaking the roof. Really!! The nerve of some people. Mena? Snore? As if. Ijebu chick has told me that the normal response is to maintain a dignified silence until he begs to be forgiven. I personally think slapping him silly will produce the same results, will be much faster and will definitely be much more enjoyable.
· Not balancing a plate of Nacho’s and a tub of Ben&Jerry’s Cookie Dough on my tummy whilst laughing hysterically at new and interesting ways to murder people on CSI. The last time I did that he was a tad weary about spending the night seeing as we had just had an argument about who snores louder (I obviously do but am I going to tell him that?) He kept looking under the mattress for hidden weapons.
· Not talking about Tyrese and his hot abs whilst he’s getting dressed, eating, in the shower etc This apparently makes him feel insecure. He should…Tyrese is a love god. Not that I’m complaining about my boo but hey I have to hear him go on about Angelina Jolie so me thinks we are even.
On the plus side
· He calls me …he has learnt the hard way that not calling results in me sulking for eternity and withdrawing snogging privileges.
· He says the sweetest thing.
· He doesn’t ignore me when I am sulking, which satisfies my constant need for attention.
· He’s seen my Buddha belly in the flesh and hasn’t gone blind, insane or left the country.
· He is a snogging wizard but that’s just between us guys…for any of you church goers, just ignore all references to snogging, sleeping over and self-removing pyjamas.
· He gives amazing cuddles
· He makes me laugh like crazy
· And he thinks I’m the sexiest being that ever lived…apart from Angela Jolie of course but I ain’t bitter. I’ve still got my life size Tyrese cut-out.
· He misses me when I ain’t there which, having come from a family that holds “A thank goodness she’s not here” party every time I leave the room, makes me feel kinda special.
Ok! Nobody go out to buy aso ebi just yet. Yes he seems normal but that’s only because I haven’t unleashed any of my personalities on him yet. For the next couple of weeks I will gently re-introduce all my other me’s into the relationship and see what happens. Come back next week to find out how Snogger Dude gets along with the many faces of Mena. I am off to wax my legs in case he wants to stroke them whilst watching Match of the day.
Monday, October 30, 2006
69,68,67..........
Yes! He called me. Yes! He still thinks I'm amazing and no he hasn't proposed yet. So can you all stop stalking me about my mystery man. We have more important thaings to talk about.
That phenomal event that happens every year is slowly during nearer. Its time to empty out your piggy banks and get all excited because there are only 69 more day to go till MY BIRTHDAY. Yep people! I’m getting older. Before, the very thought of an approaching birthday used to bring me out in a cold sweat. I would worry about wrinkles (not gonna happen …supple, smooth caramel skin is still as luscious as ever), losing my hip attitude (like that’s even possible) or worse …developing a penchant for thermal underwear. But I’m starting to realise that it will probably never happen. It’s the end of October, I can see my own breath and as my mother likes to say “it isn’t the weather for fashion”. That is just soooooooooo wrong Mama. If she weren’t my Mama I would lock her in her room with only a bowl of garri and some peanuts for daring to suggest that there was a time and place for fashion. Fashion is an all year thing, rain or shine, freezing temperatures or not. Hence my attire of a gypsy skirt, long boots, little white t-shirt and a sweater vest. I’m freezing my flat but cute ass off but at least I will die from hyperthermia whilst looking fashionable.
For all of you who are also eagerly anticipating my forthcoming birthday I just wanted to give you a few tips on how to make me happy on the day and ensure that you will not spend the rest of the year in traction or worse in the room with my mother struggling over the bowl of garri and peanuts. I know a lot of you are probably thinking of getting me the gift of “Love and Friendship” for my birthday. Awww! How sweet. Lets show Mena we care by telling her, going to visit her on the day or making her something out of recycled cardboard and a pair of old underpants. People, people, people! HOW MANY TIMES DID I CALL ALL OF YOU?? OK! LISTEN AND LISTEN GOOD
1. I speak to you guys all the time. Usually when I don’t want to I might add. You calling me on my birthday is fine but I’d better be sitting on an elephant called Dumbollina in Thailand, enjoying a five star holiday paid for by you when I get the call or don’t even bother. I’d also be very careful if that’s all you’re getting me. I you might want to start getting someone else to taste your food, start your car or basically just take on your identity until Mena’s rage has calmed down.
2. Please don’t visit me on my birthday unless you are bringing gifts, food, alcohol and the entire NBA squad wearing nothing but see through thongs. I know what I am looking for when I go and visit other people on their birthdays …FOOD! I refuse to allow anyone into my home without seeing a lovely wrapped pressie in his or her hands. The said pressie will be x-rayed to make sure it’s not an empty box wrapped with recycled wrapping paper to fool me into letting them into the house. What’s ahhh!!?? I don’t think you know the kind of family and friends I’m up against. They will go to any lengths to get a free meal. True… they all probably learnt from my example but even so they have taken it to a greater level. Before Hurry up Propose chick left the country, she could successful spend a whole month eating for free by calling up unsuspecting friends and family members after work, finding out what everyone was having for dinner and then going to visit the person with the best sounding supper. SE chick, before she got hitched also used to eat for free every weekend by coming to visit me and pretending she wanted to bond. Bonding… maybe 5minutes. The rest of the weekend was spent emptying my fridge and then having the nerve to call my stew funky! So I will not be cooking for anyone come January the 7th. There will be a slice of cake and some sparkling mineral water (no tap water seeing as its my birthday) for all gift-bearing visitors.
3. Ah! I laugh. Short of you being one of my nieces, I don’t want to see anything self produced. Even being under the legal working age is no excuse any more as far as I’m concerned. All kiddies get child benefit and I know how much it is. Enough to buy me a decent gift. All gifts of £20 and under will only be accepted from CHILDREN! My niece, Ibadan J Lo Princess please tell your mummy, Ijebu Chick to stop embezzling your funds to feed her husbands Big Tasty habit (don’t ask…I promise, you don’t want to know) and divert some of it to my birthday fund. Good girl.
I’m not a greedy person. In order to make things easier for you all I am giving you the opportunity to join the United Bank of Mena (UBM) where we have a special savings scheme especially for this occasion. You have 3 options to choose from
The No Good Friend saver – whereby you deposit £1 a day till my birthday, which will give a measly £69.00 to spend on me. Obviously I am worth more than this. I will accept your gift but know that you will be in the Raso section of my celebrity Moroccan wedding.
The Buddy saver - £3 per day you will have a decent £207 to spend on my oh so happy day. This will move you up in my estimation and you will actually get to see some of the celebrity guests at my forthcoming wedding.
The Ore Miiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!! Saver - This is the account I expect all family and REAL friends to contribute a mere £10 per day in order to buy me all the designer goods I deserve. With their £690 they are immediately bumped up to my second high table, which will be behind the table, the celebrity guests and I will be sitting on. You will get to watch the celebrities eat and might even get to touch or dance with one or two of them. Naturally this will be with my permission. I don’t want you disgracing me on the day by gushing all over Tyrese’s new best friend Chingy. Have you heard my man’s new song? I knew he would make a triumphant come back. Poo! Poo! to all you haters.
Anyway, I’ve truly given you more help than you all deserve on this issue. It is now time go out into the big wide world and find me the ultimate pressie. Good Bye & Good Luck!
That phenomal event that happens every year is slowly during nearer. Its time to empty out your piggy banks and get all excited because there are only 69 more day to go till MY BIRTHDAY. Yep people! I’m getting older. Before, the very thought of an approaching birthday used to bring me out in a cold sweat. I would worry about wrinkles (not gonna happen …supple, smooth caramel skin is still as luscious as ever), losing my hip attitude (like that’s even possible) or worse …developing a penchant for thermal underwear. But I’m starting to realise that it will probably never happen. It’s the end of October, I can see my own breath and as my mother likes to say “it isn’t the weather for fashion”. That is just soooooooooo wrong Mama. If she weren’t my Mama I would lock her in her room with only a bowl of garri and some peanuts for daring to suggest that there was a time and place for fashion. Fashion is an all year thing, rain or shine, freezing temperatures or not. Hence my attire of a gypsy skirt, long boots, little white t-shirt and a sweater vest. I’m freezing my flat but cute ass off but at least I will die from hyperthermia whilst looking fashionable.
For all of you who are also eagerly anticipating my forthcoming birthday I just wanted to give you a few tips on how to make me happy on the day and ensure that you will not spend the rest of the year in traction or worse in the room with my mother struggling over the bowl of garri and peanuts. I know a lot of you are probably thinking of getting me the gift of “Love and Friendship” for my birthday. Awww! How sweet. Lets show Mena we care by telling her, going to visit her on the day or making her something out of recycled cardboard and a pair of old underpants. People, people, people! HOW MANY TIMES DID I CALL ALL OF YOU?? OK! LISTEN AND LISTEN GOOD
1. I speak to you guys all the time. Usually when I don’t want to I might add. You calling me on my birthday is fine but I’d better be sitting on an elephant called Dumbollina in Thailand, enjoying a five star holiday paid for by you when I get the call or don’t even bother. I’d also be very careful if that’s all you’re getting me. I you might want to start getting someone else to taste your food, start your car or basically just take on your identity until Mena’s rage has calmed down.
2. Please don’t visit me on my birthday unless you are bringing gifts, food, alcohol and the entire NBA squad wearing nothing but see through thongs. I know what I am looking for when I go and visit other people on their birthdays …FOOD! I refuse to allow anyone into my home without seeing a lovely wrapped pressie in his or her hands. The said pressie will be x-rayed to make sure it’s not an empty box wrapped with recycled wrapping paper to fool me into letting them into the house. What’s ahhh!!?? I don’t think you know the kind of family and friends I’m up against. They will go to any lengths to get a free meal. True… they all probably learnt from my example but even so they have taken it to a greater level. Before Hurry up Propose chick left the country, she could successful spend a whole month eating for free by calling up unsuspecting friends and family members after work, finding out what everyone was having for dinner and then going to visit the person with the best sounding supper. SE chick, before she got hitched also used to eat for free every weekend by coming to visit me and pretending she wanted to bond. Bonding… maybe 5minutes. The rest of the weekend was spent emptying my fridge and then having the nerve to call my stew funky! So I will not be cooking for anyone come January the 7th. There will be a slice of cake and some sparkling mineral water (no tap water seeing as its my birthday) for all gift-bearing visitors.
3. Ah! I laugh. Short of you being one of my nieces, I don’t want to see anything self produced. Even being under the legal working age is no excuse any more as far as I’m concerned. All kiddies get child benefit and I know how much it is. Enough to buy me a decent gift. All gifts of £20 and under will only be accepted from CHILDREN! My niece, Ibadan J Lo Princess please tell your mummy, Ijebu Chick to stop embezzling your funds to feed her husbands Big Tasty habit (don’t ask…I promise, you don’t want to know) and divert some of it to my birthday fund. Good girl.
I’m not a greedy person. In order to make things easier for you all I am giving you the opportunity to join the United Bank of Mena (UBM) where we have a special savings scheme especially for this occasion. You have 3 options to choose from
The No Good Friend saver – whereby you deposit £1 a day till my birthday, which will give a measly £69.00 to spend on me. Obviously I am worth more than this. I will accept your gift but know that you will be in the Raso section of my celebrity Moroccan wedding.
The Buddy saver - £3 per day you will have a decent £207 to spend on my oh so happy day. This will move you up in my estimation and you will actually get to see some of the celebrity guests at my forthcoming wedding.
The Ore Miiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!! Saver - This is the account I expect all family and REAL friends to contribute a mere £10 per day in order to buy me all the designer goods I deserve. With their £690 they are immediately bumped up to my second high table, which will be behind the table, the celebrity guests and I will be sitting on. You will get to watch the celebrities eat and might even get to touch or dance with one or two of them. Naturally this will be with my permission. I don’t want you disgracing me on the day by gushing all over Tyrese’s new best friend Chingy. Have you heard my man’s new song? I knew he would make a triumphant come back. Poo! Poo! to all you haters.
Anyway, I’ve truly given you more help than you all deserve on this issue. It is now time go out into the big wide world and find me the ultimate pressie. Good Bye & Good Luck!
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Ooooopppppssss!!!!!!!
I made a bit of a boo boo this morning and said something I shouldn’t have.
OK! I’m going to tell you all a little secret. Haven’t you all noticed I ain’t as cranky as I used to be? What do you mean you haven’t noticed any difference in my demeanour? I blame you all not…it’s my fault that I have dedicated 100’s of man-hours in keep you lot entertained. Anyway I shall not let you infringe on my happiness. The reason I’ve been in a good mood is that I’ve been making up for lost time in the snogging department.
Mena! Good Christian girl like you snogging a man?? Yes o! I am and I’m liking it. Nothing like a good snog to blow away the cobwebs. Anyway I ain’t divulging any names, numbers or shoe sizes. But if you really most know, Biiiiiiiiiiigggg feet. No! I haven’t been playing “Lets make a baby”. Me and my sis “Hurry up and propose chick” devised a clever method of figuring these things out. I obviously can’t share any details with you because all the male readers of this blog will be forced to resort to drastic measures in order to make themselves look extra large. Don’t worry fella’s…it ain’t what you got, it’s what you do with it. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… So sure a guy said that. Please don't clog up my inbox with complaints about my attitude to soldier sizes. Anyone thats knows me knows that that ain't important. Wow! Is that my nose getting longer?
Anyway I’m telling you all this in confidence. My mother must not hear that I’m even in regular contact with a man let alone snogging him. She has the local printing offices number on speed dial. Any sign of a relationship and she'll have my picture printed and stamped on bucket for mass distribution before you can say “Wedding”. So it’s all Hush! Hush!
He’s nice, he’s sweet, and he says all the right things unless he’s trying to be a smart ass and then feels the need to quote stuff to me in Yoruba (Hey! I didn’t say he was perfect). Bottom line is I like him and I think he likes me. That was till this morning, when just as I was about to hang up he said “bye” and blew me a kiss (aw shucks…ain’t that just dandy) and I replied “Bye! Love you too”. 2 seconds after I said it, my heart literally stopped beating and I started to hyperventilate. What the hell had I been thinking? Its been what? 3 weeks and I uttered the “L” word. The funny thing is I ain’t even feeling the “L” word at the moment. I like him yeah but this is me…I don’t get excited about anything until I’m wearing a ring and I have him chained up in the basement so he can’t escape. I just don’t know where it came from.
Anyway I immediately back tracked and said
“Sorry didn’t mean to say that.”
“You love me?” he replies, laughing uncontrollably
“No! I just said I didn’t mean say that”
“You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it”
What planet is this guy from? I’m a woman I’m programmed to say things I don’t mean. Anyway at this stage I feel stupid and get all defensive.
“I was thinking of someone else,” I said
“Really”?
“Yeah really”
“Who”?
“Sorry”?
“Sorry yourself (told you he wasn’t perfect)…who were you thinking of?”
“My brother.”
Great Mena! Now he probably thinks you have an incestuous relationship with your brother and that your parents are actually first cousins.
“You tell your brother you love him when you hang up”? He asks…I think I can detect panic.
“Yep! We’re close like that”.
“All right then…if you say so”.
Anyway he says “Bye” still sniggering to himself and I go the ladies to see if I can flush myself down the loo. I give up people! What’s a girl got to do to keep a guy around here? He always calls me during his lunch break. I have 15 more minutes of waiting to see if I’ve managed to scare him off. Keep your fingers crossed!!!!!!!!!!
OK! I’m going to tell you all a little secret. Haven’t you all noticed I ain’t as cranky as I used to be? What do you mean you haven’t noticed any difference in my demeanour? I blame you all not…it’s my fault that I have dedicated 100’s of man-hours in keep you lot entertained. Anyway I shall not let you infringe on my happiness. The reason I’ve been in a good mood is that I’ve been making up for lost time in the snogging department.
Mena! Good Christian girl like you snogging a man?? Yes o! I am and I’m liking it. Nothing like a good snog to blow away the cobwebs. Anyway I ain’t divulging any names, numbers or shoe sizes. But if you really most know, Biiiiiiiiiiigggg feet. No! I haven’t been playing “Lets make a baby”. Me and my sis “Hurry up and propose chick” devised a clever method of figuring these things out. I obviously can’t share any details with you because all the male readers of this blog will be forced to resort to drastic measures in order to make themselves look extra large. Don’t worry fella’s…it ain’t what you got, it’s what you do with it. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… So sure a guy said that. Please don't clog up my inbox with complaints about my attitude to soldier sizes. Anyone thats knows me knows that that ain't important. Wow! Is that my nose getting longer?
Anyway I’m telling you all this in confidence. My mother must not hear that I’m even in regular contact with a man let alone snogging him. She has the local printing offices number on speed dial. Any sign of a relationship and she'll have my picture printed and stamped on bucket for mass distribution before you can say “Wedding”. So it’s all Hush! Hush!
He’s nice, he’s sweet, and he says all the right things unless he’s trying to be a smart ass and then feels the need to quote stuff to me in Yoruba (Hey! I didn’t say he was perfect). Bottom line is I like him and I think he likes me. That was till this morning, when just as I was about to hang up he said “bye” and blew me a kiss (aw shucks…ain’t that just dandy) and I replied “Bye! Love you too”. 2 seconds after I said it, my heart literally stopped beating and I started to hyperventilate. What the hell had I been thinking? Its been what? 3 weeks and I uttered the “L” word. The funny thing is I ain’t even feeling the “L” word at the moment. I like him yeah but this is me…I don’t get excited about anything until I’m wearing a ring and I have him chained up in the basement so he can’t escape. I just don’t know where it came from.
Anyway I immediately back tracked and said
“Sorry didn’t mean to say that.”
“You love me?” he replies, laughing uncontrollably
“No! I just said I didn’t mean say that”
“You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it”
What planet is this guy from? I’m a woman I’m programmed to say things I don’t mean. Anyway at this stage I feel stupid and get all defensive.
“I was thinking of someone else,” I said
“Really”?
“Yeah really”
“Who”?
“Sorry”?
“Sorry yourself (told you he wasn’t perfect)…who were you thinking of?”
“My brother.”
Great Mena! Now he probably thinks you have an incestuous relationship with your brother and that your parents are actually first cousins.
“You tell your brother you love him when you hang up”? He asks…I think I can detect panic.
“Yep! We’re close like that”.
“All right then…if you say so”.
Anyway he says “Bye” still sniggering to himself and I go the ladies to see if I can flush myself down the loo. I give up people! What’s a girl got to do to keep a guy around here? He always calls me during his lunch break. I have 15 more minutes of waiting to see if I’ve managed to scare him off. Keep your fingers crossed!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Would you like me to call you Sir too?
A guy I’ve been talking to for a little while sent me something today with the heading
“Read and Learn”. It’s apparently an actual extract from a sex education school textbook for girls, printed in the early 60’s in the UK & written by a woman!
“When retiring to the bedroom, prepare yourself for bed as promptly as possible. Whilst feminine hygiene is of the utmost importance, your tired husband does not want to queue for the bathroom, as he would have to do for his train. But remember to look your best when going to bed.
Try to achieve a look that is welcoming without being obvious. If you need to apply face cream or hair rollers wait until he is asleep as this can be shocking to a man last thing at night. When it comes to the possibility of intimate relations with your husband it is important to remember your marriage vows and in particular your commitment to obey him.
If he feels that he needs to sleep immediately afterwards, then so be it. In all things be led by your husband’s wishes; do not pressure him in any way to stimulate intimacy. Should your husband suggest congress then agree humbly, all the while being mindful that a mans satisfaction is more important than a woman’s. When he reaches his moment of fulfilment, a small moan from yourself is encouraging to him and quite sufficient to indicate any enjoyment that you may have had.
Should your husband suggest any of the more unusual practices, be obedient and uncomplaining but register any reluctance by remaining silent. It is likely that your husband will fall promptly asleep so adjust your clothing, freshen up and apply your nighttime face and hair care products. You may then set the alarm so that you can arise shortly before him in the morning. This will enable to have his morning cup of tea ready when he wakes.
Well naturally! After I finished rolling around under my desk with laughter and disbelief. I started thinking…this guy was kidding right? He wasn’t trying to send me subtle subliminal messages about what he would be expecting in the near future was he? He’d seemed all right so far …you know; He calls, he’s sweet, never forgets his wallet at home and knows where to put his lips for those all important goodnight kisses but this e-mail might be a sign. My mother always says watch what a guy finds funny because it tells you how their mind works. According to that train of thought, I’m spending a lot of time with a guy who expects me to sleep in full MAC foundation, no head scarf (like he’s going give me back my money when my afro kinky starts looking like a hedge) and not complain when he introduces a variety of garden vegetables into our after hours activities. Hmmm.. Maybe I was tad hasty in buying that copy Bride magazine then. But really fellas you all aren’t still thinking like that are you?
It’s not fair! How come everything is always down to us …the fairer and more intelligent of the species? I’m referring to us women just in case any of you male readers were deluding yourselves. I know we messed up at the beginning of time with the whole apple-eating incident but it’s about time you guys took some share of the blame. After all its not like we mashed up the apple and called it Pate. You all knew what you were doing but it seems we women are meant to keep sucking up to you guys forever.
"What’s she going on about now?” says the unattractive guy with no girlfriend in the corner. What I’m going on about now is we do everything for you guys. We have to carry you around for 9 months. Endure untold pain to shove your ungrateful behinds into the world. Nurse and look after you till we are legally able to kick you out of our home. Any of us who aren’t related to you have to cope with dating you, sleeping with you, making you feel like a man (even though some of you really deserve a nappy and a rattle) and when you’ve finally worn us out we agree to marry you and start the cycle all over again by having your kids.
“Well if you feel that way you can always start batting for the other side”. Believe me…if I could I would. I would embrace girly love, artificial insemination for when my biological clock starts ticking and a lifetime partnership with someone who knows the difference between foreplay and sticking their tongue in my ear for 2 minutes. Yep! I don’t think I would be missing much…after all where’s the fun in dating someone who is programmed to think that most of the work needed to keep a relationship going is down to me.
“That’s not fair” some of you say. But lets look at it this way... if any of you guys have done the following please send me an e-mail immediately so I can put you in the Blokey Hall of Fame
1) Bought kinky underwear to get your woman all excited?
2) Made lunch when all her girlfriends popped round to visit to watch the Final of American next top model (our equivalent of match of the day)?
3) Cut your hair like Tyrese, Denzel or JJ from Good times when your girl said she thought they were hot?
4) Gone an imaginary food diet when she pointed out that your beer belly was getting a tad big?
5) Agreed to get out of bed at midnight to pound yam for your in-law who turned up unexpectedly?
That’s just a few from the endless things we women do to keep you guys happy and the relationship on an even keel. So if any of you are expecting the 60’s to make a come back in the form of total submissiveness…please send me £3 zillion pounds for the time machine which is currently under construction my shed. Jokers!
“Read and Learn”. It’s apparently an actual extract from a sex education school textbook for girls, printed in the early 60’s in the UK & written by a woman!
“When retiring to the bedroom, prepare yourself for bed as promptly as possible. Whilst feminine hygiene is of the utmost importance, your tired husband does not want to queue for the bathroom, as he would have to do for his train. But remember to look your best when going to bed.
Try to achieve a look that is welcoming without being obvious. If you need to apply face cream or hair rollers wait until he is asleep as this can be shocking to a man last thing at night. When it comes to the possibility of intimate relations with your husband it is important to remember your marriage vows and in particular your commitment to obey him.
If he feels that he needs to sleep immediately afterwards, then so be it. In all things be led by your husband’s wishes; do not pressure him in any way to stimulate intimacy. Should your husband suggest congress then agree humbly, all the while being mindful that a mans satisfaction is more important than a woman’s. When he reaches his moment of fulfilment, a small moan from yourself is encouraging to him and quite sufficient to indicate any enjoyment that you may have had.
Should your husband suggest any of the more unusual practices, be obedient and uncomplaining but register any reluctance by remaining silent. It is likely that your husband will fall promptly asleep so adjust your clothing, freshen up and apply your nighttime face and hair care products. You may then set the alarm so that you can arise shortly before him in the morning. This will enable to have his morning cup of tea ready when he wakes.
Well naturally! After I finished rolling around under my desk with laughter and disbelief. I started thinking…this guy was kidding right? He wasn’t trying to send me subtle subliminal messages about what he would be expecting in the near future was he? He’d seemed all right so far …you know; He calls, he’s sweet, never forgets his wallet at home and knows where to put his lips for those all important goodnight kisses but this e-mail might be a sign. My mother always says watch what a guy finds funny because it tells you how their mind works. According to that train of thought, I’m spending a lot of time with a guy who expects me to sleep in full MAC foundation, no head scarf (like he’s going give me back my money when my afro kinky starts looking like a hedge) and not complain when he introduces a variety of garden vegetables into our after hours activities. Hmmm.. Maybe I was tad hasty in buying that copy Bride magazine then. But really fellas you all aren’t still thinking like that are you?
It’s not fair! How come everything is always down to us …the fairer and more intelligent of the species? I’m referring to us women just in case any of you male readers were deluding yourselves. I know we messed up at the beginning of time with the whole apple-eating incident but it’s about time you guys took some share of the blame. After all its not like we mashed up the apple and called it Pate. You all knew what you were doing but it seems we women are meant to keep sucking up to you guys forever.
"What’s she going on about now?” says the unattractive guy with no girlfriend in the corner. What I’m going on about now is we do everything for you guys. We have to carry you around for 9 months. Endure untold pain to shove your ungrateful behinds into the world. Nurse and look after you till we are legally able to kick you out of our home. Any of us who aren’t related to you have to cope with dating you, sleeping with you, making you feel like a man (even though some of you really deserve a nappy and a rattle) and when you’ve finally worn us out we agree to marry you and start the cycle all over again by having your kids.
“Well if you feel that way you can always start batting for the other side”. Believe me…if I could I would. I would embrace girly love, artificial insemination for when my biological clock starts ticking and a lifetime partnership with someone who knows the difference between foreplay and sticking their tongue in my ear for 2 minutes. Yep! I don’t think I would be missing much…after all where’s the fun in dating someone who is programmed to think that most of the work needed to keep a relationship going is down to me.
“That’s not fair” some of you say. But lets look at it this way... if any of you guys have done the following please send me an e-mail immediately so I can put you in the Blokey Hall of Fame
1) Bought kinky underwear to get your woman all excited?
2) Made lunch when all her girlfriends popped round to visit to watch the Final of American next top model (our equivalent of match of the day)?
3) Cut your hair like Tyrese, Denzel or JJ from Good times when your girl said she thought they were hot?
4) Gone an imaginary food diet when she pointed out that your beer belly was getting a tad big?
5) Agreed to get out of bed at midnight to pound yam for your in-law who turned up unexpectedly?
That’s just a few from the endless things we women do to keep you guys happy and the relationship on an even keel. So if any of you are expecting the 60’s to make a come back in the form of total submissiveness…please send me £3 zillion pounds for the time machine which is currently under construction my shed. Jokers!
Monday, October 23, 2006
Breaking up ain't that hard to do.
I know I know…I just haven’t been feeling inspired lately. For some odd reason there is actually nothing going on in my life. OK I lie …there is but I just ain’t ready to share. Actually that’s another lie…I do want to share but I’m learning the art of self-control. No more divulging intimate secrets of my love life to members of the general public. This why I am still single. You guys misrepresent everything I say and then I sound like a pyscho. So we’ll just have to talk about something else. Lets see…politics? Nah! You guys just aren’t clued up in that direction are you. The current trend for 80’s fashion in the year 2006? Oh no I’ve got a good one…convenience products or services in the 21st century.
Ok! I’m all up for modern day living and making life as convenient as possible. I have my moments when, if I could find someone and pay him or her to carry me on his or her back to the bus stop just to shave 3 minutes off my journey time I would. I’ve been tempted to buy crust less bread from the supermarket just so I don’t have to do it myself and believe me should they ever event the self brushing toothbrush I’ll be first on the queue. But there are certain pleasures in life that one shouldn’t relinquish to someone else to do for a fee. Amongst the top 3 are eating, sex and breaking up with annoying cretins.But a company in Belgium obviously doesn’t think so. They have just started the worlds first ever break up agency. For a fee, they will call up your unsuspecting bloke/girlfriend and tell them that you will no longer be requiring their services. Where, I ask you is the fun in that?
Breaking up with someone is hard but gosh it’s the price you pay for agreeing to go out with a self-certified lunatic in the first place. You sure as hell didn’t ask anyone to go on the first date for you, have your first snog, sleep with him/her or wear the sexy nurses uniform you used to spice up the cold winter nights (yes bunny…there are many costumes out there…our brother cannot live by furry love alone) So why should you get off easy when everything turns sour?
Digressing slightly, I have noticed a gap in the market for kinky costumes for women who want to tantalise their hot-blooded Niger men. So I have decided to set up my own agency “Local Love.com”. Yes peeps! I am setting up my own business... oh won't Mama and Papa be proud. I shall be supplying costume's to tantalise the African man’s vivid fantasy. I see my top three sellers being:
The Market Seller – An outfit consisting of a wrapper, un matching blouse, scarf, slippers and metal tray. Oranges, Guguru and epa or ice water can be supplied at an extra cost.
The House Girl - Also comes with a wrapper, oversized t-shirt, shuku wig, slippers and broom. Stick on tribal marks can be provided at an extra cost.
Federal Government College Sweetheart - Check pinafore in a variety of primary colours, thick rubber soled Bata sandal, white knee socks and unflattering school beret. Oxford maths set and graph paper optional. For those extra kinky ones amongst you I can supply a pot bellied father to stroll in every time you are about to get some action for that truly authentic feeling.
Any interested parties should contact me privately for hire charges and delivery times. No bunny…No family discount.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand.
Breaking up can be painless when handled in the right way. Here is my easy guide to Dumping and getting dumped without any drama. I ain’t even charging you guys so I would appreciate a little gratitude.
1) As the Dumper, please feel free to point out all nasty, filthy habits you have in order to make the Dumpee feel better. After all you’ve probably found yourself a hotter partner already, so no need to point out to the Dumpee that the reason they are getting dumped is that their little soldier is a very little soldier and their feet smell of cheese. You can laugh over this with your girlfriends later.
2)If the Dumpee insists that they can live with your little foibles then feel free to bring up the issue of marriage, children, a proper 9-5 job (No! singing in a band isn’t a job unless they have a record deal and are number one in the charts…and even this does not apply if said band is based in Niger) depending on which one the Dumpee is allergic to. This should have the Dumpee feeling cornered and they might be willing to discontinue the conversation in order to escape discussing the forbidden topic.
3)Should you be cohabiting with the intended Dumpee, then at least a week of poor personal hygiene, running up a huge phone bill talking to your mama about the latest lace, refusing sexual favours (not sure they’ll want any if you’re keeping up the lack of personal hygiene) and starting every sentence with “my ex used to…” should do the trick.
4)If all that fails then the usual not returning calls might send the message home.
5)Or you can just send them a text, e-mail, fax or postcard saying” Can’t you take a hint Einstein? You’re dumped!!”
6)Naturally the Dumpee will be hurt but they should not resort to burning the Dumpers car, flat or Italian shoe collection. You will only get arrested and become someone’s plaything in jail.
7)The Dumpee should maintain a dignified front when they see or speak to the Dumper about splitting their Boney M record collection or picking up their spare underwear from the love nest.
8)By all means, the Dumpee can spend all other times crying their eyes out and listening to “End of the road “ by Boyz to men.
9)The Dumpee should also take comfort in the fact that the heart breaking ordeal will help them lose weight and one day soon they will meet someone who appreciates a smaller soldier and the smell of cheese in the morning.
10)Try not to be too horrible either as a Dumpee or Dumper, as karma might just catch up with you in your next relationship.
Having been on both sides of the coin best piece of advice I can really give is don't give up. Yeah it hurts like hell now but believe me it does get better.
Ok! I’m all up for modern day living and making life as convenient as possible. I have my moments when, if I could find someone and pay him or her to carry me on his or her back to the bus stop just to shave 3 minutes off my journey time I would. I’ve been tempted to buy crust less bread from the supermarket just so I don’t have to do it myself and believe me should they ever event the self brushing toothbrush I’ll be first on the queue. But there are certain pleasures in life that one shouldn’t relinquish to someone else to do for a fee. Amongst the top 3 are eating, sex and breaking up with annoying cretins.But a company in Belgium obviously doesn’t think so. They have just started the worlds first ever break up agency. For a fee, they will call up your unsuspecting bloke/girlfriend and tell them that you will no longer be requiring their services. Where, I ask you is the fun in that?
Breaking up with someone is hard but gosh it’s the price you pay for agreeing to go out with a self-certified lunatic in the first place. You sure as hell didn’t ask anyone to go on the first date for you, have your first snog, sleep with him/her or wear the sexy nurses uniform you used to spice up the cold winter nights (yes bunny…there are many costumes out there…our brother cannot live by furry love alone) So why should you get off easy when everything turns sour?
Digressing slightly, I have noticed a gap in the market for kinky costumes for women who want to tantalise their hot-blooded Niger men. So I have decided to set up my own agency “Local Love.com”. Yes peeps! I am setting up my own business... oh won't Mama and Papa be proud. I shall be supplying costume's to tantalise the African man’s vivid fantasy. I see my top three sellers being:
The Market Seller – An outfit consisting of a wrapper, un matching blouse, scarf, slippers and metal tray. Oranges, Guguru and epa or ice water can be supplied at an extra cost.
The House Girl - Also comes with a wrapper, oversized t-shirt, shuku wig, slippers and broom. Stick on tribal marks can be provided at an extra cost.
Federal Government College Sweetheart - Check pinafore in a variety of primary colours, thick rubber soled Bata sandal, white knee socks and unflattering school beret. Oxford maths set and graph paper optional. For those extra kinky ones amongst you I can supply a pot bellied father to stroll in every time you are about to get some action for that truly authentic feeling.
Any interested parties should contact me privately for hire charges and delivery times. No bunny…No family discount.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand.
Breaking up can be painless when handled in the right way. Here is my easy guide to Dumping and getting dumped without any drama. I ain’t even charging you guys so I would appreciate a little gratitude.
1) As the Dumper, please feel free to point out all nasty, filthy habits you have in order to make the Dumpee feel better. After all you’ve probably found yourself a hotter partner already, so no need to point out to the Dumpee that the reason they are getting dumped is that their little soldier is a very little soldier and their feet smell of cheese. You can laugh over this with your girlfriends later.
2)If the Dumpee insists that they can live with your little foibles then feel free to bring up the issue of marriage, children, a proper 9-5 job (No! singing in a band isn’t a job unless they have a record deal and are number one in the charts…and even this does not apply if said band is based in Niger) depending on which one the Dumpee is allergic to. This should have the Dumpee feeling cornered and they might be willing to discontinue the conversation in order to escape discussing the forbidden topic.
3)Should you be cohabiting with the intended Dumpee, then at least a week of poor personal hygiene, running up a huge phone bill talking to your mama about the latest lace, refusing sexual favours (not sure they’ll want any if you’re keeping up the lack of personal hygiene) and starting every sentence with “my ex used to…” should do the trick.
4)If all that fails then the usual not returning calls might send the message home.
5)Or you can just send them a text, e-mail, fax or postcard saying” Can’t you take a hint Einstein? You’re dumped!!”
6)Naturally the Dumpee will be hurt but they should not resort to burning the Dumpers car, flat or Italian shoe collection. You will only get arrested and become someone’s plaything in jail.
7)The Dumpee should maintain a dignified front when they see or speak to the Dumper about splitting their Boney M record collection or picking up their spare underwear from the love nest.
8)By all means, the Dumpee can spend all other times crying their eyes out and listening to “End of the road “ by Boyz to men.
9)The Dumpee should also take comfort in the fact that the heart breaking ordeal will help them lose weight and one day soon they will meet someone who appreciates a smaller soldier and the smell of cheese in the morning.
10)Try not to be too horrible either as a Dumpee or Dumper, as karma might just catch up with you in your next relationship.
Having been on both sides of the coin best piece of advice I can really give is don't give up. Yeah it hurts like hell now but believe me it does get better.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
The silent treatment
Did I mention I wasn't speaking to Hmmm Dude? After seeing me in my Primark nighty and not saying anything constructive, I decided to withhold the pleasure of my conversations from him.
At what age do you have to stop using not speaking to someone as a weapon??
I only ask because I still do it. Yes I know its childish but sometimes you just can’t be arsed to speak to someone who is pissing you off. You don’t want to give them the impression that you have forgotten or forgiven their transgressions by engaging in conversation with them. The most I'm willing to do is the odd nod, grunt or disapproving stare in the culprit’s general direction. You might all think this is extremely immature for a woman of my superior intellect, but do I look bothered by your opinion? When you all start taking notice of my requests for money then maybe I might be interested in the fact that you all have something to contribute.
So today eager beavers we are going to talk about fights, keeping malice and making up. “Why such a depressing and hostile subject Mena ?” you all ask. We thought you were going to talk about the new men in your life. My response to that question is get your OWN blinking blog. When you signed up for the Mena experience you should have read the fine print. If you want to talk about rainbows, fairies and little people that live in the mushrooms at the bottom of your garden Cbeebies has a website. In here we talk about real stuff. Anyway back to the original topic of conversation.
There are 4 kinds of fights
The Schizophrenic
This is when you think you are having an argument with someone and the other party is totally oblivious to your seething rage. So technically when you think about it you’re actually having an argument with yourself. That is not a good thing. There are many people wandering around the wards of mental hospitals that have arguments with themselves. You’re probably thinking that by shouting and screaming, this situation can be quickly turned into a 2 man show but it ain’t that simple. To actually get yourself into a schizophrenic type argument to begin with... the other person is probably related to my ex boyfriend. A man incapable of showing any emotions and who met every angry question with stony silence or stretching his neck past my hulking frame so he could watch telly. Ah yes people! I have had many a one sided argument and this is why you should never rely on anything I say. All that talking to myself is bound to have had some effect on my sanity. The best way to resolve this is not to scream, shout or make demands. Just say nothing and give monosyllabic responses to everything. I give the other person 24 hours and they will be begging to know what the matter is.
The Mule
This is an argument whereby you know there is no chance in hell of you winning. Probably because you were in the wrong to begin with but pride, stubbornness or whatever will not let you back down. Yep! You’d rather sleep on the sofa till eternity than admit that you don’t know who the current president of Yugoslavia is (I do know but I’m not helping you ignorant lot by telling you am I?). This argument is usually resolved when the bigger person (which is probably not yourself) extends the hand of friendship. For people in a relationship…it ends when one of you gets tired of humping the pillow for company.
The Time Bomb
This argument usually occurs between mates. Someone says or does something you don’t like. They tell you you look a tad rounder than usual or they borrow something without asking. You usually say something at the time but said friend is very dismissive of your reaction. So you say nothing. You bury that “I want to kick your ass to the moon feeling” and say nothing. But the next time they eat your last tic-tac or drop a piece of fluff on your already filthy carpet. You go nuclear on their ass and refuse to speak to them again…ever.
The Misunderstanding
This is usually a boy vs. girl argument. They say something we don’t like and when they realise we are about to do them some serious damage in the nether regions the claim it was all a “Misunderstanding”. Usually resolved with flowers, chocolate and movie type sex.
Anyway I’m being good at the moment. Still speaking to most people I know and anyone I’m not speaking to needs to sit in dark room somewhere and think about what they’ve done.
At what age do you have to stop using not speaking to someone as a weapon??
I only ask because I still do it. Yes I know its childish but sometimes you just can’t be arsed to speak to someone who is pissing you off. You don’t want to give them the impression that you have forgotten or forgiven their transgressions by engaging in conversation with them. The most I'm willing to do is the odd nod, grunt or disapproving stare in the culprit’s general direction. You might all think this is extremely immature for a woman of my superior intellect, but do I look bothered by your opinion? When you all start taking notice of my requests for money then maybe I might be interested in the fact that you all have something to contribute.
So today eager beavers we are going to talk about fights, keeping malice and making up. “Why such a depressing and hostile subject Mena ?” you all ask. We thought you were going to talk about the new men in your life. My response to that question is get your OWN blinking blog. When you signed up for the Mena experience you should have read the fine print. If you want to talk about rainbows, fairies and little people that live in the mushrooms at the bottom of your garden Cbeebies has a website. In here we talk about real stuff. Anyway back to the original topic of conversation.
There are 4 kinds of fights
The Schizophrenic
This is when you think you are having an argument with someone and the other party is totally oblivious to your seething rage. So technically when you think about it you’re actually having an argument with yourself. That is not a good thing. There are many people wandering around the wards of mental hospitals that have arguments with themselves. You’re probably thinking that by shouting and screaming, this situation can be quickly turned into a 2 man show but it ain’t that simple. To actually get yourself into a schizophrenic type argument to begin with... the other person is probably related to my ex boyfriend. A man incapable of showing any emotions and who met every angry question with stony silence or stretching his neck past my hulking frame so he could watch telly. Ah yes people! I have had many a one sided argument and this is why you should never rely on anything I say. All that talking to myself is bound to have had some effect on my sanity. The best way to resolve this is not to scream, shout or make demands. Just say nothing and give monosyllabic responses to everything. I give the other person 24 hours and they will be begging to know what the matter is.
The Mule
This is an argument whereby you know there is no chance in hell of you winning. Probably because you were in the wrong to begin with but pride, stubbornness or whatever will not let you back down. Yep! You’d rather sleep on the sofa till eternity than admit that you don’t know who the current president of Yugoslavia is (I do know but I’m not helping you ignorant lot by telling you am I?). This argument is usually resolved when the bigger person (which is probably not yourself) extends the hand of friendship. For people in a relationship…it ends when one of you gets tired of humping the pillow for company.
The Time Bomb
This argument usually occurs between mates. Someone says or does something you don’t like. They tell you you look a tad rounder than usual or they borrow something without asking. You usually say something at the time but said friend is very dismissive of your reaction. So you say nothing. You bury that “I want to kick your ass to the moon feeling” and say nothing. But the next time they eat your last tic-tac or drop a piece of fluff on your already filthy carpet. You go nuclear on their ass and refuse to speak to them again…ever.
The Misunderstanding
This is usually a boy vs. girl argument. They say something we don’t like and when they realise we are about to do them some serious damage in the nether regions the claim it was all a “Misunderstanding”. Usually resolved with flowers, chocolate and movie type sex.
Anyway I’m being good at the moment. Still speaking to most people I know and anyone I’m not speaking to needs to sit in dark room somewhere and think about what they’ve done.
I'm all sweetness and light....
Desola! or whatever your name is. You better hurry up with this dying process you’re going through because I will only update my blog when I am good and ready.
Really! The nerve of some people. Do you think I come to work to blog? No I am here to check my e-mails from potential partners on African Love Connection (I hear my profile “Sexy Caramel Mama” is very popular), browse the net, call my soon to be school teacher sister in Niger(ha ha! Next time you will not forsake me for a man) and criticise the dress sense of all those that walk into my office. So please …all of you …no one should harass me again. OK?!
Anyway, seeing as I'm here already... let me take pity upon you sad people and just share a few thoughts with you. Firstly I need to ask you all a question…Do I seem like a mean person to you guys? I know that slanderous bunny look alike sister in-law of mine has been spreading rumours that I have multiple personalities but we all know she just hating a sister for her hotness. It’s just that these days I’m not really the nicest of people.
Take yesterday…
After I got home from work, tied my wrapper village style round my neck, put on some beads for good measure and assumed the personality of Princess Nena “The beautiful one who most be obeyed” there was a knock on the door. I was obviously upset at being interrupted as I was just about to tuck into a plate of eba and spinach, (look…even hot, public school girls get ras cravings ok!). I opened the door to be confronted by my neighbour holding a cup. I eyed said cup and neighbour suspiciously. I had heard of such people who go from door to door asking for free goods in the spirit of neighbourly kindness. My spirit of Neighbourly kindness was away on vacation and I was not a happy princess Nena.
“Yes” I said
She looked me up and down like I was some kind of freak.
“Yes”! I said again.
“Oh sorry. I was just admiring your outfit. Are you off to a party”.
Peasant I thought. Does this look my ceremonial wrapper?
“No” I said.
“Is there something I can help you with”?
“Yes I was wondering if I could borrow some sugar and some milk”?
Sugar!!! Was this woman mad?? Did she not see the wrapper clinging to my hot Atkins created curves? Did I look like someone that ate sugar? And what did she mean by borrow? Was she planning on returning the cup of milk to me sometime in the near future with interest?
“I don’t have any sugar I’m afraid”.
“Oh that’s a shame, how about some milk then? I was just going to make a cup of tea and I noticed I’d run out. Where are you from? Your outfit looks very ethnic”.
Story, story …my eba is getting cold with all this gist. Lets focus on the job at hand please.
“I’m Nigerian. I’ll just see if I have some milk”.
Opening my refrigerator I noticed I did have some milk but only enough for me to eat my Snap, crackle and pop in the morning. I figured I might as well be nice and let her have it. Seeeeeee…I am a nice person.
“Here you go,” I said.
“Oh”! She said
“Haven’t you got any full fat milk”?
Once again the peasant has managed to annoy Princess Nena.
Did I look like someone who drank full fat milk (shut up ijebu chick…It was a rhetorical question and I don’t need any lip from you)?
“No that’s all I’ve got I’m afraid”.
“Oh well I guess it will have to do”.
Physco! Like she’s doing ME a favour by accepting the milk. At this stage I’ve lost all interest in being polite.
I took my milk out of her grasping little hands and said “No don’t be silly. If it’s not what you are used to then by all means try the lady downstairs”. And promptly shut my door.
I could hear the freeloader muttering obscenities outside. She’s lucky I didn’t have a royal executioner at hand to deal with her rude self. Anyway, I thought I handled myself quite well. Didn’t have to slap anyone silly to get my point across. Fine she was over 70 and a tad feeble but that’s no excuse for upsetting Princess Nena.
Hmmm but it did make me think though …Maybe I’m too hard on you guys. After all, all you want is to get to know me better and try to live your boring little lives through mine. So I hold my hands up. I have no excuse. I’ve been a bad, bad girl for not updating my blog. I deserve to be punished. I need to be taken over a big strong knee and spanked… preferably by Hassan. Who is Hassan you might all ask? Well Hassan is the love god who is at this very moment bent over my fax machine trying to fix it. Yes people …Mena is in love with the fax repair man. Would it be considered sexual harassment if I slightly pinched his toohsy on my way back to my desk?
What about Tyrese? You gasp in shock. Tyrese ko Tyresi ni. I am tired of having all my love letters returned by his security detail and I just think that restraining order asking me not contact him again was a tad overzealous. Really! You tell a guy you are going to cut off his little soldier if you find out those rumours about him and Vivica Fox are true and he suddenly gets all legal on your ass. Anyway I have decided I don’t want him anymore. Not because some judge in LA said so but because I’ve just decided I don’t need him anymore.
Right now I have men crawling out of the woodwork. Yep! Mena is regular light bulb these days just attracting men like moths to a flame. It’s like that old saying,”You spend ages waiting for a bus and 3 come along at once”. I guess telling you about them is one way to fill up my blog. But not today because Hassan has just asked if he can crawl under my desk to check the wiring for the fax and I really don’t think I can focus with him down there.
Really! The nerve of some people. Do you think I come to work to blog? No I am here to check my e-mails from potential partners on African Love Connection (I hear my profile “Sexy Caramel Mama” is very popular), browse the net, call my soon to be school teacher sister in Niger(ha ha! Next time you will not forsake me for a man) and criticise the dress sense of all those that walk into my office. So please …all of you …no one should harass me again. OK?!
Anyway, seeing as I'm here already... let me take pity upon you sad people and just share a few thoughts with you. Firstly I need to ask you all a question…Do I seem like a mean person to you guys? I know that slanderous bunny look alike sister in-law of mine has been spreading rumours that I have multiple personalities but we all know she just hating a sister for her hotness. It’s just that these days I’m not really the nicest of people.
Take yesterday…
After I got home from work, tied my wrapper village style round my neck, put on some beads for good measure and assumed the personality of Princess Nena “The beautiful one who most be obeyed” there was a knock on the door. I was obviously upset at being interrupted as I was just about to tuck into a plate of eba and spinach, (look…even hot, public school girls get ras cravings ok!). I opened the door to be confronted by my neighbour holding a cup. I eyed said cup and neighbour suspiciously. I had heard of such people who go from door to door asking for free goods in the spirit of neighbourly kindness. My spirit of Neighbourly kindness was away on vacation and I was not a happy princess Nena.
“Yes” I said
She looked me up and down like I was some kind of freak.
“Yes”! I said again.
“Oh sorry. I was just admiring your outfit. Are you off to a party”.
Peasant I thought. Does this look my ceremonial wrapper?
“No” I said.
“Is there something I can help you with”?
“Yes I was wondering if I could borrow some sugar and some milk”?
Sugar!!! Was this woman mad?? Did she not see the wrapper clinging to my hot Atkins created curves? Did I look like someone that ate sugar? And what did she mean by borrow? Was she planning on returning the cup of milk to me sometime in the near future with interest?
“I don’t have any sugar I’m afraid”.
“Oh that’s a shame, how about some milk then? I was just going to make a cup of tea and I noticed I’d run out. Where are you from? Your outfit looks very ethnic”.
Story, story …my eba is getting cold with all this gist. Lets focus on the job at hand please.
“I’m Nigerian. I’ll just see if I have some milk”.
Opening my refrigerator I noticed I did have some milk but only enough for me to eat my Snap, crackle and pop in the morning. I figured I might as well be nice and let her have it. Seeeeeee…I am a nice person.
“Here you go,” I said.
“Oh”! She said
“Haven’t you got any full fat milk”?
Once again the peasant has managed to annoy Princess Nena.
Did I look like someone who drank full fat milk (shut up ijebu chick…It was a rhetorical question and I don’t need any lip from you)?
“No that’s all I’ve got I’m afraid”.
“Oh well I guess it will have to do”.
Physco! Like she’s doing ME a favour by accepting the milk. At this stage I’ve lost all interest in being polite.
I took my milk out of her grasping little hands and said “No don’t be silly. If it’s not what you are used to then by all means try the lady downstairs”. And promptly shut my door.
I could hear the freeloader muttering obscenities outside. She’s lucky I didn’t have a royal executioner at hand to deal with her rude self. Anyway, I thought I handled myself quite well. Didn’t have to slap anyone silly to get my point across. Fine she was over 70 and a tad feeble but that’s no excuse for upsetting Princess Nena.
Hmmm but it did make me think though …Maybe I’m too hard on you guys. After all, all you want is to get to know me better and try to live your boring little lives through mine. So I hold my hands up. I have no excuse. I’ve been a bad, bad girl for not updating my blog. I deserve to be punished. I need to be taken over a big strong knee and spanked… preferably by Hassan. Who is Hassan you might all ask? Well Hassan is the love god who is at this very moment bent over my fax machine trying to fix it. Yes people …Mena is in love with the fax repair man. Would it be considered sexual harassment if I slightly pinched his toohsy on my way back to my desk?
What about Tyrese? You gasp in shock. Tyrese ko Tyresi ni. I am tired of having all my love letters returned by his security detail and I just think that restraining order asking me not contact him again was a tad overzealous. Really! You tell a guy you are going to cut off his little soldier if you find out those rumours about him and Vivica Fox are true and he suddenly gets all legal on your ass. Anyway I have decided I don’t want him anymore. Not because some judge in LA said so but because I’ve just decided I don’t need him anymore.
Right now I have men crawling out of the woodwork. Yep! Mena is regular light bulb these days just attracting men like moths to a flame. It’s like that old saying,”You spend ages waiting for a bus and 3 come along at once”. I guess telling you about them is one way to fill up my blog. But not today because Hassan has just asked if he can crawl under my desk to check the wiring for the fax and I really don’t think I can focus with him down there.
Friday, September 08, 2006
"Hurry Up and Propose Chick" has left the building.
I don’t really want to be blogging right now. I actually have work to do and I’m feeling dopey. But seeing as you are all ingrates, some of you have already started getting on my case about how I’m not committed to my blog etc Look people! The only thing I want to be committed to is Tyrese or any other man who isn’t a midget (I have nothing against short blokes but I’m short myself and I would like to give my kids some kind of chance in life), insane or living in the basement of his Mama’s house. So excuse me if I’m not blogging every minute that God sends but I am actually in the middle of living my life.
The only reason I’m here today is because my sis “Hurry up and propose chick” has deserted moi. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!! BooooooooooooHoooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!! Sob! She has deserted me and headed back to Niger to be with a man…yuck! Useless man wrapper sister. You would think blood would be thicker than water but naturally things are bound to be different where I’m involved. Anyway I’m used to being treated atrociously by my numerous family members so I’ll just chalk it up with her other misdemeanours. All these sins against moi will be reflected in my wedding pressie to them of a goat.
Actually think I’m being overly considerate, after all a goat is an extremely useful 3 in 1 gift. It’s an automatic lawnmower, security system (goats can be extremely vicious. We had one as a child and I remember many a Saturday afternoon spent having my bottom moulded back into shape after the stupid thing caught me on its patch. Probably explains the current flatness of afore mentioned butt) and a holiday food source. Yep! Nothing like watching a butt-kicking goat getting roasted to make a sore butt feel better. Will definitely be getting them one…They both need a good butt kicking.
Anyway I am now dopey, as I have no one to boss around and feel superior to anymore. What is a girl to do?? Maybe I shouldn’t see this as a bad thing after all she wasn’t what you would call a perfect younger sister. She was rude, disrespectful, opinionated, bossy, a stealer of my accessories and a supplier of embarrassing stories about me to potential hubbies. She also didn’t appreciate Tyrese. Hmmmm…maybe my life is actually going to get better now that her desperate behind is safely in Niger. She’s about to start NYSC so if I’m reeeeeeaaaaallly lucky she will be sent to some village in the boondocks where ass-kicking goats roam freely. Only the local palm wine seller Romeo will speak English. So she will be forced to endure hours of “Baby I dig you well well! Make we sit under the palm tree and talk about our union of love” just so she doesn’t go crazy with boredom. She will be forced ride her tricycle (yes I meant the little three wheeled bike. On her Youth corp. salary she can’t afford an adult sized bike) to the nearest town to send me telegrams begging me to send her essentials like Mac foundation, floss and tic tacs. Ah if only dreams came true.
Whilst she is busy fending of the palmy seller I will be holding auditions for a new and improved younger sister. One with the following attributes:
1) Extremely flat ass. I just think its plain rude to have a bigger ass than your older sister.
2) No fashion sense, as I am tired of having all my nice stuff stolen.
3) Has no qualms about coming over to my flat at unsociable hours to cook, clean and baby-sit.
I personally don’t think that’s a lot to ask for but you these small girls of now days all have attitude problems. All applicants please send a list of your best dishes and a picture of your rear end.
But to be honest...I'm going to miss my little sis like crazy and I hope Niger is all she hopes it will be and more.
The only reason I’m here today is because my sis “Hurry up and propose chick” has deserted moi. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!! BooooooooooooHoooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!! Sob! She has deserted me and headed back to Niger to be with a man…yuck! Useless man wrapper sister. You would think blood would be thicker than water but naturally things are bound to be different where I’m involved. Anyway I’m used to being treated atrociously by my numerous family members so I’ll just chalk it up with her other misdemeanours. All these sins against moi will be reflected in my wedding pressie to them of a goat.
Actually think I’m being overly considerate, after all a goat is an extremely useful 3 in 1 gift. It’s an automatic lawnmower, security system (goats can be extremely vicious. We had one as a child and I remember many a Saturday afternoon spent having my bottom moulded back into shape after the stupid thing caught me on its patch. Probably explains the current flatness of afore mentioned butt) and a holiday food source. Yep! Nothing like watching a butt-kicking goat getting roasted to make a sore butt feel better. Will definitely be getting them one…They both need a good butt kicking.
Anyway I am now dopey, as I have no one to boss around and feel superior to anymore. What is a girl to do?? Maybe I shouldn’t see this as a bad thing after all she wasn’t what you would call a perfect younger sister. She was rude, disrespectful, opinionated, bossy, a stealer of my accessories and a supplier of embarrassing stories about me to potential hubbies. She also didn’t appreciate Tyrese. Hmmmm…maybe my life is actually going to get better now that her desperate behind is safely in Niger. She’s about to start NYSC so if I’m reeeeeeaaaaallly lucky she will be sent to some village in the boondocks where ass-kicking goats roam freely. Only the local palm wine seller Romeo will speak English. So she will be forced to endure hours of “Baby I dig you well well! Make we sit under the palm tree and talk about our union of love” just so she doesn’t go crazy with boredom. She will be forced ride her tricycle (yes I meant the little three wheeled bike. On her Youth corp. salary she can’t afford an adult sized bike) to the nearest town to send me telegrams begging me to send her essentials like Mac foundation, floss and tic tacs. Ah if only dreams came true.
Whilst she is busy fending of the palmy seller I will be holding auditions for a new and improved younger sister. One with the following attributes:
1) Extremely flat ass. I just think its plain rude to have a bigger ass than your older sister.
2) No fashion sense, as I am tired of having all my nice stuff stolen.
3) Has no qualms about coming over to my flat at unsociable hours to cook, clean and baby-sit.
I personally don’t think that’s a lot to ask for but you these small girls of now days all have attitude problems. All applicants please send a list of your best dishes and a picture of your rear end.
But to be honest...I'm going to miss my little sis like crazy and I hope Niger is all she hopes it will be and more.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
It may be a blinddate but I ain't blind
Wow! That’s what you are all thinking. 3 additions to the blog in one week. Go Mena! Go Mena! I know…I’m way to good to you guys. Please feel free to show your appreciation in monetary terms. I can hear you stingy ones out there grumbling (Ijebu Chick, I know you are not called that because of the geography of your birth. Please extract at least £20 from the money you hide in your knicker drawer) about my constant demands for funds. You can’t blame me for wanting to continue to live my lavish lifestyle. Rocking fake Gucci, Fendi and Prada ain’t cheap you know. Anyway don’t get used to this constant blogging. I have J O B and don’t have time for all this bonding. The only reason this week has been so bloggy is because the curse is upon me. So everything annoys me and hence I have more to moan about.
I work in an office with 5 other women and believe me for one week in every month we all get verrrrrrry touchy. All the men huddle in a little corner of the office in fear for their lives. Yesterday was a particularly bad day for the men in the office because one of the girls went on a crappy blind date. He was awful, she told him in a nice way he was awful. Yes fella’s! When a girl tells you “I like you but I just want to be friends”. She really means “God forbid I should let anyone I know see me with you in public, let alone think we are dating”. You would think he would take rejection like a REAL MAN and move on but we all now that there is no such thing as a real man. They are a myth created a long time ago by Loser Dudes to ensure that we poor girls keep dating them in the hope that we might eventually run into one. Anyway not being a REAL MAN he proceeded to demand £39 from her as payment for the food and entertainment during the date. All in all it wasn’t a good day to be a man.
Have any of you ever been on a blind date??? Don’t be shy…just stick does hands up and be counted. Chances are we’ve all been there and done that. In this day and age there is no shame in it. The shame comes from having to narrate the horror of what happened to you to your friends afterward because apart from the one instance of IT Dude and Ijebu Chick don’t know of any successful blind dates. Actually did I ever tell you their story??? Well it was like this….
Once upon a time there was a girl called Ijebu Chick who lived in a ghetto castle in London with SE chick. After many a moon of being chased and dating raso princes who drove Toyotas and considered singing Ololufemi songs as the height of romance. Ijebu Chick grew bored. Sometimes she wondered, “Could there be more to life and love? Surely there must be something better than being fed pounded yam by your man? Or going for strolls round Peckham market” One day whilst sitting in her ghetto castle watching Sura the Tailor or was it Samanja? It escapes me…a friend called her up and asked her over for dinner. “I would like you to meet a friend of my husbands” she said. Ijebu chick pondered and then thought what the hell! She turned up and was immediately wowed by the non rasoness. He could say a whole sentence in English without breaking into Yoruba. Several scoops of Hagendaz later (and you all think I’m a cheap date. Might I point out that a meal at Nando’s is nothing less than £5.99, whilst Hagendaz is like 3 quid. I rest my case) the girl was a goner. So they fell in love, got married and had a little Ibadan/Ijebu princess and lived happily ever after. Awwwwwwwww…. That’s the way we all hope blind dates will end but in reality it’s a whole different story.
I am going to be unselfish and use myself as an example for the what and what not to expect from a blind date. Woe betide anyone who feels the need to use these to insult or ridicule me in future.
Do consider the person setting you up on the blind date before saying yes.
Someone at work once set me up on a blind date. She said her boyfriend had a really hot friend that I just had to meet. Being single, bored and desperate I thought what the hell. What I actually should have been thinking was… Wasn’t this the girl that told me last week that she thought Shabba Ranks was hot??? And whose boyfriends sole ambition in life was to see how much jewellery he could fit round neck before he collapsed under the sheer weight of them. So what on earth could this guy possibly look like if that was the scale she was working from? I never actually found out as during the date I was constantly being blinded by the glare from the light hitting the 24-carat grill in his mouth.
Do expect to pay for your meal and his
Guys I’m not difficult. I know I sound evil most of the time but that’s just a façade I put on. Me…I’m all sweetness and light until some guy offers to take me out to dinner and then expects me to pay. I’m all down for equal opportunity dating but If you CALL ME, ASK ME out to dinner and YOU PICK THE RESTAURANT…please don’t expect my visa card to make an appearance at any point during the night. Once went on a blind date with a guy who instructed me not to eat anything as he was taking me out for a slap up meal. You know what I’m like when it comes to food, especially free food. I was all excited. He came to pick me up and said he needed to stop to get some cash. Lo and behold his card was refused at every major cash point in London. At this stage I was sooo hungry and fed up I was quite happy to gnaw my own feet off just so I wouldn’t pass out. We ended up at Pizza Hut where I had to pay for dinner and then the stupid pot bellied dwarf had the nerve tell me not to put mushrooms on the pizza because he didn’t like them. Naturally I ordered extra mushrooms and took great joy in watching him pick them off. To say the least I didn’t bother taking his calls after that.
Don’t expect a happy ending
I’ve been on dates where you actually have a nice time. You actually think this might be going somewhere and then the glow of the date wears off. Ladies! We aren’t the only ones who make an effort for the first date. Guys have been known to have a bath, comb their hair and even floss to make a good impression. They will appear charming, witty and on the ball during dinner. Hold open your door as you enter their borrowed from a mate to impress car. Buy you popcorn to share in the cinema. Give you a peck on the chick when they drop you off at home. You call your girlfriends and talk till 3am planning your wedding because as far as you are concerned this is it. The next date or 2 though are totally different. At this stage they’ve probably heard from the person who set you guys up that you like them. They figure if they’ve got you to date number three you are a goner; So no need to pretend. Your next date goes like this:
1) Instead of picking you up in his mates Beemer he tells you to meet him at the movies instead.
2) He tells you he has given up his job in the city to find his true calling. So no dinner this time as his giro cheque hasn’t cleared.
3) He tells you buy yourself a tub of popcorn, as the one he just bought won’t be enough for both of you. He also throws in the fact that you managed to eat more popcorn than him the last time you shared.
4) You almost crack your skull open when the door you thought he was going to hold open for you whacks you in the face.
5) He does see you to your front door though more because you can’t walk straight after the door incident and he figures after 3 dates he deserves the prize of seeing you without any clothes on.
I could go on and on but to be honest it would just make life harder for the guys at work as all this constant reminiscing is bound to put me in a man-hating mood. So people live and learn. Enjoy your blind date. If it turns out crappy, just move on and laugh about it and if it turns out to be a fairy tale in the making…don’t tell me about it. I’ll only become more bitter and twisted.
I work in an office with 5 other women and believe me for one week in every month we all get verrrrrrry touchy. All the men huddle in a little corner of the office in fear for their lives. Yesterday was a particularly bad day for the men in the office because one of the girls went on a crappy blind date. He was awful, she told him in a nice way he was awful. Yes fella’s! When a girl tells you “I like you but I just want to be friends”. She really means “God forbid I should let anyone I know see me with you in public, let alone think we are dating”. You would think he would take rejection like a REAL MAN and move on but we all now that there is no such thing as a real man. They are a myth created a long time ago by Loser Dudes to ensure that we poor girls keep dating them in the hope that we might eventually run into one. Anyway not being a REAL MAN he proceeded to demand £39 from her as payment for the food and entertainment during the date. All in all it wasn’t a good day to be a man.
Have any of you ever been on a blind date??? Don’t be shy…just stick does hands up and be counted. Chances are we’ve all been there and done that. In this day and age there is no shame in it. The shame comes from having to narrate the horror of what happened to you to your friends afterward because apart from the one instance of IT Dude and Ijebu Chick don’t know of any successful blind dates. Actually did I ever tell you their story??? Well it was like this….
Once upon a time there was a girl called Ijebu Chick who lived in a ghetto castle in London with SE chick. After many a moon of being chased and dating raso princes who drove Toyotas and considered singing Ololufemi songs as the height of romance. Ijebu Chick grew bored. Sometimes she wondered, “Could there be more to life and love? Surely there must be something better than being fed pounded yam by your man? Or going for strolls round Peckham market” One day whilst sitting in her ghetto castle watching Sura the Tailor or was it Samanja? It escapes me…a friend called her up and asked her over for dinner. “I would like you to meet a friend of my husbands” she said. Ijebu chick pondered and then thought what the hell! She turned up and was immediately wowed by the non rasoness. He could say a whole sentence in English without breaking into Yoruba. Several scoops of Hagendaz later (and you all think I’m a cheap date. Might I point out that a meal at Nando’s is nothing less than £5.99, whilst Hagendaz is like 3 quid. I rest my case) the girl was a goner. So they fell in love, got married and had a little Ibadan/Ijebu princess and lived happily ever after. Awwwwwwwww…. That’s the way we all hope blind dates will end but in reality it’s a whole different story.
I am going to be unselfish and use myself as an example for the what and what not to expect from a blind date. Woe betide anyone who feels the need to use these to insult or ridicule me in future.
Do consider the person setting you up on the blind date before saying yes.
Someone at work once set me up on a blind date. She said her boyfriend had a really hot friend that I just had to meet. Being single, bored and desperate I thought what the hell. What I actually should have been thinking was… Wasn’t this the girl that told me last week that she thought Shabba Ranks was hot??? And whose boyfriends sole ambition in life was to see how much jewellery he could fit round neck before he collapsed under the sheer weight of them. So what on earth could this guy possibly look like if that was the scale she was working from? I never actually found out as during the date I was constantly being blinded by the glare from the light hitting the 24-carat grill in his mouth.
Do expect to pay for your meal and his
Guys I’m not difficult. I know I sound evil most of the time but that’s just a façade I put on. Me…I’m all sweetness and light until some guy offers to take me out to dinner and then expects me to pay. I’m all down for equal opportunity dating but If you CALL ME, ASK ME out to dinner and YOU PICK THE RESTAURANT…please don’t expect my visa card to make an appearance at any point during the night. Once went on a blind date with a guy who instructed me not to eat anything as he was taking me out for a slap up meal. You know what I’m like when it comes to food, especially free food. I was all excited. He came to pick me up and said he needed to stop to get some cash. Lo and behold his card was refused at every major cash point in London. At this stage I was sooo hungry and fed up I was quite happy to gnaw my own feet off just so I wouldn’t pass out. We ended up at Pizza Hut where I had to pay for dinner and then the stupid pot bellied dwarf had the nerve tell me not to put mushrooms on the pizza because he didn’t like them. Naturally I ordered extra mushrooms and took great joy in watching him pick them off. To say the least I didn’t bother taking his calls after that.
Don’t expect a happy ending
I’ve been on dates where you actually have a nice time. You actually think this might be going somewhere and then the glow of the date wears off. Ladies! We aren’t the only ones who make an effort for the first date. Guys have been known to have a bath, comb their hair and even floss to make a good impression. They will appear charming, witty and on the ball during dinner. Hold open your door as you enter their borrowed from a mate to impress car. Buy you popcorn to share in the cinema. Give you a peck on the chick when they drop you off at home. You call your girlfriends and talk till 3am planning your wedding because as far as you are concerned this is it. The next date or 2 though are totally different. At this stage they’ve probably heard from the person who set you guys up that you like them. They figure if they’ve got you to date number three you are a goner; So no need to pretend. Your next date goes like this:
1) Instead of picking you up in his mates Beemer he tells you to meet him at the movies instead.
2) He tells you he has given up his job in the city to find his true calling. So no dinner this time as his giro cheque hasn’t cleared.
3) He tells you buy yourself a tub of popcorn, as the one he just bought won’t be enough for both of you. He also throws in the fact that you managed to eat more popcorn than him the last time you shared.
4) You almost crack your skull open when the door you thought he was going to hold open for you whacks you in the face.
5) He does see you to your front door though more because you can’t walk straight after the door incident and he figures after 3 dates he deserves the prize of seeing you without any clothes on.
I could go on and on but to be honest it would just make life harder for the guys at work as all this constant reminiscing is bound to put me in a man-hating mood. So people live and learn. Enjoy your blind date. If it turns out crappy, just move on and laugh about it and if it turns out to be a fairy tale in the making…don’t tell me about it. I’ll only become more bitter and twisted.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Sign here
Just thought of another reason why I hate Mondays.
I slave all day at work and today is the one day I have nothing to look forward to when I get home. There is absolutely nothing to watch on telly. As I occasionally remember to pay my monthly TV license fee I think I am allowed to complain about the utter rubbish I am being forced to watch on a regular basis. Yes! I could read a book but my imagination has now been totally corrupted by my constant need for Tyrese. I see him everywhere. You try reading Little Women with Tyrese as ALL the characters. Doesn’t have the same effect. It actually gets creepy after awhile. A full skirt and bowed hat are so not a look he should be experimenting with.
Anyway I don’t want to read a book. I want to be a couch potato. Scoffing down my dinner whilst being thrilled by the joy of modern day programming. I tell you, if I didn’t have Dr.Who saving the world every Saturday night I might actually be forced to leave my house and do something sociable like visit someone. Yuck! Doesn’t even bear thinking about. I shall start a petition to bring back decent programmes. Classics such as Hawaii 5 O, Kojak and my all time favourite SPACE 1999(I secretly used to pretend I was Mia. Turn into monster and eat my younger brother when he was p…… me off). I can hardly wait. I expect all of you to agree with me and sign my petition. You cannot enjoy my ranting and then expect me to go home and suffer the torment of Big Brother, X factor and assorted crappy channel 5 documentaries.
Cable is just as bad…especially now that they have refused to reconnect me to the Naughty Housewife channel. Really! I think I was totally justified in not paying for Tyrese does Texas. I fell asleep 5 minutes into the film (was exhausted from watching Tyrese does Las Vegas and Tyrese sings the blues naked). So technically didn’t watch it and so don’t see why I have to pay for it. I’m starting to weaken though. I need my Tyrese fix and seeing as he hasn’t got his lazy ass up to record another album; MTV doesn’t show any videos of him. So I can’t get any freebie looks at him. That’s it I’ve made up mind. I will be starting another petition to get my man Tyrese back into the studio or at least making another unwatchable “Too fast to Furious” movie. THERE WILL BE NO DEBATES ON THIS ISSUE! YOU WILL ALL SIGN.
You will also be campaigning for a channel dedicated only to Law and Order and CSI 24 hours a day, 7days a week. I love those programmes. Anything that shows you how to dispose of people and not get caught gets my vote. I have a lot of people on my “You’re lucky I don’t want to go to prison” list. Number 1 being that annoying woman on the bus. She’s there every single day on my way home from work. She spreads all her stuff over the adjoining seat and then makes you wait 5 minutes before she moves her stuff, grumbling all the time she’s doing it . Once you’ve finally managed to get your self settled on the few inches she’s generously given you (seeing as she obviously owns the entire transport network) she then proceeds to whip out her phone and have the loudest conversation in the world. I’m just waiting for them to show an episode where a woman is beaten to death with her mobile phone and then chucked through the window of the top deck of a moving bus. That is day I wait for in joyful anticipation.
But really, coming from a country whereby interrogation involves being beaten half to death with a baton and where most confessions start with the words “ I confess officer now please stop stepping on my privates, get your Alsatian to stop gnawing on my toes and please release my 96 year old mother and her entire village from the holding cell”… I am constantly fascinated by all the technology that goes into finding out who did what to whom. Don’t get me wrong…I’m not dissing my beloved country but people lets be real. Raise up your hands anyone who has ever bothered reporting a crime to the police in Nigeria. What would be the point? Not sure they even bother teaching forensics at Police College these days. Do we still have Police College?? Hmmmm…I’m depressed now. My dreams of one day becoming Niger’s top criminologist have now turned to dust. Sob!
I have nothing to look forward to tonight and I might be forced to call unsuitable men due to sheer boredom. Speaking of which Hmmm Dude resurfaced again last week after I banished him from Mena world for being an annoying twerp. You would think he would be grovelling and sobbing for forgiveness but being a man he just calls and wants to start gisting like I spoke to him yesterday instead of 6 months ago. Not falling for that trick. He either gets his grovelling groove on or he can go back to having pointless conversations with girls that don’t have my intellectual appeal.
Anyway I actually haven’t done any work today. Payday is fast approaching and I refuse to suffer the indignity of buying Asda’s own brand toilet paper next week because I had my pay docked for entertaining you guys. So goodbye and good riddance.
I slave all day at work and today is the one day I have nothing to look forward to when I get home. There is absolutely nothing to watch on telly. As I occasionally remember to pay my monthly TV license fee I think I am allowed to complain about the utter rubbish I am being forced to watch on a regular basis. Yes! I could read a book but my imagination has now been totally corrupted by my constant need for Tyrese. I see him everywhere. You try reading Little Women with Tyrese as ALL the characters. Doesn’t have the same effect. It actually gets creepy after awhile. A full skirt and bowed hat are so not a look he should be experimenting with.
Anyway I don’t want to read a book. I want to be a couch potato. Scoffing down my dinner whilst being thrilled by the joy of modern day programming. I tell you, if I didn’t have Dr.Who saving the world every Saturday night I might actually be forced to leave my house and do something sociable like visit someone. Yuck! Doesn’t even bear thinking about. I shall start a petition to bring back decent programmes. Classics such as Hawaii 5 O, Kojak and my all time favourite SPACE 1999(I secretly used to pretend I was Mia. Turn into monster and eat my younger brother when he was p…… me off). I can hardly wait. I expect all of you to agree with me and sign my petition. You cannot enjoy my ranting and then expect me to go home and suffer the torment of Big Brother, X factor and assorted crappy channel 5 documentaries.
Cable is just as bad…especially now that they have refused to reconnect me to the Naughty Housewife channel. Really! I think I was totally justified in not paying for Tyrese does Texas. I fell asleep 5 minutes into the film (was exhausted from watching Tyrese does Las Vegas and Tyrese sings the blues naked). So technically didn’t watch it and so don’t see why I have to pay for it. I’m starting to weaken though. I need my Tyrese fix and seeing as he hasn’t got his lazy ass up to record another album; MTV doesn’t show any videos of him. So I can’t get any freebie looks at him. That’s it I’ve made up mind. I will be starting another petition to get my man Tyrese back into the studio or at least making another unwatchable “Too fast to Furious” movie. THERE WILL BE NO DEBATES ON THIS ISSUE! YOU WILL ALL SIGN.
You will also be campaigning for a channel dedicated only to Law and Order and CSI 24 hours a day, 7days a week. I love those programmes. Anything that shows you how to dispose of people and not get caught gets my vote. I have a lot of people on my “You’re lucky I don’t want to go to prison” list. Number 1 being that annoying woman on the bus. She’s there every single day on my way home from work. She spreads all her stuff over the adjoining seat and then makes you wait 5 minutes before she moves her stuff, grumbling all the time she’s doing it . Once you’ve finally managed to get your self settled on the few inches she’s generously given you (seeing as she obviously owns the entire transport network) she then proceeds to whip out her phone and have the loudest conversation in the world. I’m just waiting for them to show an episode where a woman is beaten to death with her mobile phone and then chucked through the window of the top deck of a moving bus. That is day I wait for in joyful anticipation.
But really, coming from a country whereby interrogation involves being beaten half to death with a baton and where most confessions start with the words “ I confess officer now please stop stepping on my privates, get your Alsatian to stop gnawing on my toes and please release my 96 year old mother and her entire village from the holding cell”… I am constantly fascinated by all the technology that goes into finding out who did what to whom. Don’t get me wrong…I’m not dissing my beloved country but people lets be real. Raise up your hands anyone who has ever bothered reporting a crime to the police in Nigeria. What would be the point? Not sure they even bother teaching forensics at Police College these days. Do we still have Police College?? Hmmmm…I’m depressed now. My dreams of one day becoming Niger’s top criminologist have now turned to dust. Sob!
I have nothing to look forward to tonight and I might be forced to call unsuitable men due to sheer boredom. Speaking of which Hmmm Dude resurfaced again last week after I banished him from Mena world for being an annoying twerp. You would think he would be grovelling and sobbing for forgiveness but being a man he just calls and wants to start gisting like I spoke to him yesterday instead of 6 months ago. Not falling for that trick. He either gets his grovelling groove on or he can go back to having pointless conversations with girls that don’t have my intellectual appeal.
Anyway I actually haven’t done any work today. Payday is fast approaching and I refuse to suffer the indignity of buying Asda’s own brand toilet paper next week because I had my pay docked for entertaining you guys. So goodbye and good riddance.
Once upon a time.....
Noooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!! Please not another Monday. I so don’t think I can handle another one, especially not after the weekend I just had. Contrary to what you might all be thinking I’m not about to launch into some tale of woe. I’ll do that later. First I just want to tell you all that Bunny go go licious has finally got her man. Yep! That’s right the 5 year romantic saga of the girl with the bunny pants and the guy with the pristine finger nails has finally reached the end of another chapter. On the 19th of August 2006 She finally said “I do” to Just So Dude and now they are going to ride off in the sunset and make little bunnies and dudes. Sniff! I love a happy ending.
It was a lovely day. She looked lovely, he looked lovely and naturally I looked amazing. It just felt really nice to be part of something so special. I think sometimes going to weddings when you hardly know the people involved; you forget what the whole things about. You’re more interested in what the bride is wearing and who is sooooo not looking right in their “its way too tight but you were £2.50 on sale at Karen Millen dress.” By the way …excuse me whilst I digress for a moment… I might be mistaken but aren’t we in the year 2006?? That’s what I thought so why do some brides still insist on wearing…God I can’t even bring myself to say it…gloves??
I read Ijebu Chicks vast Ovation collection (I know! She is just so rass. I only read them so I can actually have a conversation with her. I am so thoughtful) and I don’t get why all these women are wearing gloves. Are they cold? Did they forget to get a manicure before their big day? It just doesn’t work ladies. It ruins your look and how the hell are you supposed to keep a firm grip on your groom if you are wearing slippery satin gloves? You need flesh-to-flesh contact. That way when it gets to the vow stage and you detect any sweat on his palms. You know to hold on tight and give the male members of your family the signal to barricade the doors against any escape attempts. So please no gloves. Especially not those lacy fingerless ones…you ain’t Madonna and even she doesn’t wear them anymore. Hurry up and propose chick let this be a warning to you. I don’t care if Market boy has a lacy hand apparel fetish. You will not be allowed to disgrace the family by wearing such on the big day. Keep your kinky get up for the boudoir.
I am glad to say that Bunny go go licious did the sensible thing and stayed away from gloves. Good thing too as I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin her big day by wrestling her to ground at the alter and pulling them off. Might also have had to give her a few quick slaps just to make sure she realised the severity of her crime against fashion. Nah! I lie. The slapping would really just be for my benefit. Nothing like a good slapping to relieve tension.
Anyway as I was saying before I got sidetracked …when you see 2 people you’ve known for so long,who you actually care about, stand up there and say they are ready and willing to deal with the future together…it puts a whole new spin on a wedding. I loved it and I know they are just going to be soooo happy together. Especially Bunny as she now has me as a sister in law. I will be there to dish out awesome advice on all aspects of marriage. My specialties being how to show the PROPER RESPECT to your sister in-law. How to prepare gourmet meals for your sister in-law and the most important one, How to ensure your sister in-law is happy at all times. She will need to start lessons soon as is she already slacking in her duties. I have not even had a good morning Aunty sister in-law phone call today not to mention a hand delivered breakfast of an Akara sandwich (Akara between 2 slices of white bread buttered with onions and tomatoes delicately sliced. Yum! Yum!) and a mug of Olvatine with 2 sugars. I will be holding a family meeting if this problem has not been rectified by tomorrow morning.
All this university girls sef. They think they are too good to wake up early in the morning to feed their family members. I blame the boy. I told them all they needed was a girl that could say “yes”, “Thank you” and “I’m in the mood”. But would they listen? Of course not. They wanted girls that could discuss the political climate in Timbuktu. Just selfish if you ask me. Its not like their wives belong to just them. They belong to the WHOLE family. But seeing as they have now been spoilt by being allowed to discuss things other than what they are making for dinner and what colour underwear they have on, I just don’t get any respect. Yep! Will definitely be holding a family meeting.
I’m sure the women libbers are out in force to scold me for having such negative views on my sister in-laws. As Ijebu chick likes to say “ Sebi you too will marry” Err… yeah! I will to a billionaire only child whose parents are also only children and live permanently in a secluded island in the Bahamas. So will not have to deal with Akara sandwich runs before I head off to work in the morning. Hahahaha! I’m so clever.
Look its not like they both didn’t meet me before the decided to say yes. They had their chance to escape but they chose to stay, as I am obviously irresistable. So let this be a lesson to you single ladies out there. The most important thing in your future hubby is not his looks, conversation, size of his bank balance or other physical appendages. It is the saneness of his family.
You’re probably thinking if I managed to fool Bunny, Ijebu chick and Market boy (yep he’s still around and unaware of the terrors that await him) with my level of insanity. Then what hope is there for you poor girls? Well the long and short of it is there isn’t any. Crappy, annoying and mentally deranged in-laws are part and parcel of the whole marriage drama. There’s nothing you can do to change them so the best thing to do is just go with the flow and remind yourself constantly who and what you’re accepting them for.
Tomorrow when I wake Bunny up at 5.30am to make sure she gets my Akara sandwich to me piping hot. She will look into the face of her happily snoring hubby, refrain from cursing me in Yoruba and get up to wash the beans. Ahhh! Another happy ending.
It was a lovely day. She looked lovely, he looked lovely and naturally I looked amazing. It just felt really nice to be part of something so special. I think sometimes going to weddings when you hardly know the people involved; you forget what the whole things about. You’re more interested in what the bride is wearing and who is sooooo not looking right in their “its way too tight but you were £2.50 on sale at Karen Millen dress.” By the way …excuse me whilst I digress for a moment… I might be mistaken but aren’t we in the year 2006?? That’s what I thought so why do some brides still insist on wearing…God I can’t even bring myself to say it…gloves??
I read Ijebu Chicks vast Ovation collection (I know! She is just so rass. I only read them so I can actually have a conversation with her. I am so thoughtful) and I don’t get why all these women are wearing gloves. Are they cold? Did they forget to get a manicure before their big day? It just doesn’t work ladies. It ruins your look and how the hell are you supposed to keep a firm grip on your groom if you are wearing slippery satin gloves? You need flesh-to-flesh contact. That way when it gets to the vow stage and you detect any sweat on his palms. You know to hold on tight and give the male members of your family the signal to barricade the doors against any escape attempts. So please no gloves. Especially not those lacy fingerless ones…you ain’t Madonna and even she doesn’t wear them anymore. Hurry up and propose chick let this be a warning to you. I don’t care if Market boy has a lacy hand apparel fetish. You will not be allowed to disgrace the family by wearing such on the big day. Keep your kinky get up for the boudoir.
I am glad to say that Bunny go go licious did the sensible thing and stayed away from gloves. Good thing too as I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin her big day by wrestling her to ground at the alter and pulling them off. Might also have had to give her a few quick slaps just to make sure she realised the severity of her crime against fashion. Nah! I lie. The slapping would really just be for my benefit. Nothing like a good slapping to relieve tension.
Anyway as I was saying before I got sidetracked …when you see 2 people you’ve known for so long,who you actually care about, stand up there and say they are ready and willing to deal with the future together…it puts a whole new spin on a wedding. I loved it and I know they are just going to be soooo happy together. Especially Bunny as she now has me as a sister in law. I will be there to dish out awesome advice on all aspects of marriage. My specialties being how to show the PROPER RESPECT to your sister in-law. How to prepare gourmet meals for your sister in-law and the most important one, How to ensure your sister in-law is happy at all times. She will need to start lessons soon as is she already slacking in her duties. I have not even had a good morning Aunty sister in-law phone call today not to mention a hand delivered breakfast of an Akara sandwich (Akara between 2 slices of white bread buttered with onions and tomatoes delicately sliced. Yum! Yum!) and a mug of Olvatine with 2 sugars. I will be holding a family meeting if this problem has not been rectified by tomorrow morning.
All this university girls sef. They think they are too good to wake up early in the morning to feed their family members. I blame the boy. I told them all they needed was a girl that could say “yes”, “Thank you” and “I’m in the mood”. But would they listen? Of course not. They wanted girls that could discuss the political climate in Timbuktu. Just selfish if you ask me. Its not like their wives belong to just them. They belong to the WHOLE family. But seeing as they have now been spoilt by being allowed to discuss things other than what they are making for dinner and what colour underwear they have on, I just don’t get any respect. Yep! Will definitely be holding a family meeting.
I’m sure the women libbers are out in force to scold me for having such negative views on my sister in-laws. As Ijebu chick likes to say “ Sebi you too will marry” Err… yeah! I will to a billionaire only child whose parents are also only children and live permanently in a secluded island in the Bahamas. So will not have to deal with Akara sandwich runs before I head off to work in the morning. Hahahaha! I’m so clever.
Look its not like they both didn’t meet me before the decided to say yes. They had their chance to escape but they chose to stay, as I am obviously irresistable. So let this be a lesson to you single ladies out there. The most important thing in your future hubby is not his looks, conversation, size of his bank balance or other physical appendages. It is the saneness of his family.
You’re probably thinking if I managed to fool Bunny, Ijebu chick and Market boy (yep he’s still around and unaware of the terrors that await him) with my level of insanity. Then what hope is there for you poor girls? Well the long and short of it is there isn’t any. Crappy, annoying and mentally deranged in-laws are part and parcel of the whole marriage drama. There’s nothing you can do to change them so the best thing to do is just go with the flow and remind yourself constantly who and what you’re accepting them for.
Tomorrow when I wake Bunny up at 5.30am to make sure she gets my Akara sandwich to me piping hot. She will look into the face of her happily snoring hubby, refrain from cursing me in Yoruba and get up to wash the beans. Ahhh! Another happy ending.
Friday, July 21, 2006
M is for Mena
Yeah! Yeah! I know. I 've been neglecting my blog but I have a perfectly good explanation. Which I would be quite happy to divulge to you all for the bargain basement price of £69.99(the exact sum of my cable bill this month if Ntl's claim that I ordered "Tyrese does Dallas" on the Naughty Housewife’s channel is true but that’s another story). Anyway I have returned. My head hung in shame at the thought that you lot have had no where to go and read intellectual ramblings for such a long time but its alright I am back.
I'm meant to be going to a baby shower tomorrow. Sounds like fun you might think but it won't be for me. My parents (Yes! I have parents. I'm not the spawn of someone’s insane imagination as some of you like to think) will be arriving in a few weeks. My parent are of the old school, the one where the learnt that fat ass women don't get married. So to spare myself the “Why hasn't your big fat ass found a man yet?” speech, I have gone on a liquid diet. No not the alcoholic kind, even though I might give that a try if this fails. I am allowed to drink 3 nasty tasting milkshakes a day, loads of water and that’s it. If I happen to get hungry in between, I’ll have to breathe a little harder and hope the extra oxygen I’m inhaling will fill me up. “Why Mena?” You all say. Your sexy Nubian curves and ample love handles must be a thing of beauty. I SO AGREE!!! But the world is a fickle place and so I must bow to mounting pressure and lose at least one love handle.
Anyway fella's this would be a good time to ask me out on a date. Think about it...a girl that brings her own food on a date. You ain’t gonna find that anywhere else. I will give the phrase 'Cheap date' a whole new meaning. All interested parties please send a poster size picture of yourself in your tightest underwear, holding your most recent bank statement and a signed affidavit stating you don't have a girlfriend, sex buddy, baby mama or wifey.
Anyway back to the baby shower. I can't eat and so don't really see the point of going. I will be forced to and oh and ah over a round, sticky out belly. I can do that home with my belly whilst balancing a bowl of chips on it and watching 'Law and Order'. I will have to watch other people eat and that’s just torture. But worse than that is the games. They drive me insane, like the one Ijebu chick sent me today. You basically have the letters of the alphabet and you have to write down baby stuff related to the letters. Obviously people always do the nice stuff like N for nappies. Sod that... I say tell the woman the truth about what she's letting her self in for. Its not all Johnson baby ads you know. So here is my:
A – Z OF THINGS RELATING TO BABY.
A
Anger management classes so you don’t strangle your husband for putting the diaper on the wrong way round for the 700th time.
B
Boring stories numerous other new mums will feel the need to tell you about their apparent horrific labour. Like you care!!!!! No pain can equal what you are about to go through. Have they seen the size of heads in your husband’s family??? B is also for baby booties, bibs and Breast pads.
C
Cot, Cuddly toy and Condensed milk. Don’t you just wish babies could drink the stuff? They can make them in beer style cans and the first thing you would teach your child was how to hold a can. Back off sisters!!!! I thought of it first and will be contacting Cow&Gate in the morning to dicuss my lucrative contract.
D
Diaphragm. If the damned thing worked we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. The male member in this relationship is about to be in charge of birth control. V for vasectomy anyone?
E
Earplugs for whoever is not on night baby feeding duties.
F
Food. You’ve been eating for 2 for 9 months and you’ve got to keep eating to breast feed it for another year. Will this destruction of my once hot body never stop?
G
Gym to get mama back in shape so papa can find her hot again, make another baby AND RUIN EVERY SINGLE THING SHE WORKED HER BUTT OFF IN THE GYM FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!
H
Baby harness and haemorrhoids. A particular joy associated with childbirth. Feel free to look up this painful condition in the medical dictionary.
I
Ignoring your husbands attempt to poke you in the back with his little soldier when you’ve only just managed to drift off to sleep for the first time in 2 days.
J
Juggling looking after the baby and cooking fresh stew for your husband that doesn’t eat 2-day-old stew.
K
Keeping your village mother in law and her local herbal cream away from your babies heat rash.
L
Licking baby food off your fingers and suddenly realising this is why you still look pregnant 6 months after having the baby.
M
Mother and baby classes so you can meet other frumpy, frustrated and fat mama’s like yourself.
N
Night feeds & Nappies
O
Oranges to put in your bra and pretend your boobs are still nice and perky even though they now look like patties and reach your toes.
P
Pretending you can still fit into your pre pregnancy jeans and passing out in Asda whilst buying nappies because they’ve cut circulation to all major arteries.
Q
Quiet! What you say to everyone within a 2-mile radius of your sleeping child. You wake the baby. You die.
R
Rejecting all evil, conk sounding names supplied by unknown village relatives.
S
Sleep. You want it, You need it but you ain’t getting it.
T
Time! What the hell is that?? You haven’t got time to do anything but bathe, change and feed the baby about 10 times a day.
U
Underwear! No more sexy La senza for you. Its mother care boulder holders all the way.
V
Vaseline. No longer the magic ingredient for you and daddy use to stay up ALL NIGHT LONG.
X
X-rated films. Buy a years supply for hubby because it will probably take that long before you let any traffic go downtown again.
Y
Yawn! You’ll be doing a lot of that. Especially when hubby tells you look verrrrrrrrryyyyy sexxxxy in your breast milk stained grandma Mo nightgown. Sorry mate ain’t happening tonight. Might want to have the V for vasectomy conversation again.
Z
ZZZzzzzzzzz…Not so much of that though.
I have had my say and you don't have to like it but you all know its true. Now excuse me while I go take some deep breaths before I die of hunger.
I'm meant to be going to a baby shower tomorrow. Sounds like fun you might think but it won't be for me. My parents (Yes! I have parents. I'm not the spawn of someone’s insane imagination as some of you like to think) will be arriving in a few weeks. My parent are of the old school, the one where the learnt that fat ass women don't get married. So to spare myself the “Why hasn't your big fat ass found a man yet?” speech, I have gone on a liquid diet. No not the alcoholic kind, even though I might give that a try if this fails. I am allowed to drink 3 nasty tasting milkshakes a day, loads of water and that’s it. If I happen to get hungry in between, I’ll have to breathe a little harder and hope the extra oxygen I’m inhaling will fill me up. “Why Mena?” You all say. Your sexy Nubian curves and ample love handles must be a thing of beauty. I SO AGREE!!! But the world is a fickle place and so I must bow to mounting pressure and lose at least one love handle.
Anyway fella's this would be a good time to ask me out on a date. Think about it...a girl that brings her own food on a date. You ain’t gonna find that anywhere else. I will give the phrase 'Cheap date' a whole new meaning. All interested parties please send a poster size picture of yourself in your tightest underwear, holding your most recent bank statement and a signed affidavit stating you don't have a girlfriend, sex buddy, baby mama or wifey.
Anyway back to the baby shower. I can't eat and so don't really see the point of going. I will be forced to and oh and ah over a round, sticky out belly. I can do that home with my belly whilst balancing a bowl of chips on it and watching 'Law and Order'. I will have to watch other people eat and that’s just torture. But worse than that is the games. They drive me insane, like the one Ijebu chick sent me today. You basically have the letters of the alphabet and you have to write down baby stuff related to the letters. Obviously people always do the nice stuff like N for nappies. Sod that... I say tell the woman the truth about what she's letting her self in for. Its not all Johnson baby ads you know. So here is my:
A – Z OF THINGS RELATING TO BABY.
A
Anger management classes so you don’t strangle your husband for putting the diaper on the wrong way round for the 700th time.
B
Boring stories numerous other new mums will feel the need to tell you about their apparent horrific labour. Like you care!!!!! No pain can equal what you are about to go through. Have they seen the size of heads in your husband’s family??? B is also for baby booties, bibs and Breast pads.
C
Cot, Cuddly toy and Condensed milk. Don’t you just wish babies could drink the stuff? They can make them in beer style cans and the first thing you would teach your child was how to hold a can. Back off sisters!!!! I thought of it first and will be contacting Cow&Gate in the morning to dicuss my lucrative contract.
D
Diaphragm. If the damned thing worked we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. The male member in this relationship is about to be in charge of birth control. V for vasectomy anyone?
E
Earplugs for whoever is not on night baby feeding duties.
F
Food. You’ve been eating for 2 for 9 months and you’ve got to keep eating to breast feed it for another year. Will this destruction of my once hot body never stop?
G
Gym to get mama back in shape so papa can find her hot again, make another baby AND RUIN EVERY SINGLE THING SHE WORKED HER BUTT OFF IN THE GYM FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!
H
Baby harness and haemorrhoids. A particular joy associated with childbirth. Feel free to look up this painful condition in the medical dictionary.
I
Ignoring your husbands attempt to poke you in the back with his little soldier when you’ve only just managed to drift off to sleep for the first time in 2 days.
J
Juggling looking after the baby and cooking fresh stew for your husband that doesn’t eat 2-day-old stew.
K
Keeping your village mother in law and her local herbal cream away from your babies heat rash.
L
Licking baby food off your fingers and suddenly realising this is why you still look pregnant 6 months after having the baby.
M
Mother and baby classes so you can meet other frumpy, frustrated and fat mama’s like yourself.
N
Night feeds & Nappies
O
Oranges to put in your bra and pretend your boobs are still nice and perky even though they now look like patties and reach your toes.
P
Pretending you can still fit into your pre pregnancy jeans and passing out in Asda whilst buying nappies because they’ve cut circulation to all major arteries.
Q
Quiet! What you say to everyone within a 2-mile radius of your sleeping child. You wake the baby. You die.
R
Rejecting all evil, conk sounding names supplied by unknown village relatives.
S
Sleep. You want it, You need it but you ain’t getting it.
T
Time! What the hell is that?? You haven’t got time to do anything but bathe, change and feed the baby about 10 times a day.
U
Underwear! No more sexy La senza for you. Its mother care boulder holders all the way.
V
Vaseline. No longer the magic ingredient for you and daddy use to stay up ALL NIGHT LONG.
X
X-rated films. Buy a years supply for hubby because it will probably take that long before you let any traffic go downtown again.
Y
Yawn! You’ll be doing a lot of that. Especially when hubby tells you look verrrrrrrrryyyyy sexxxxy in your breast milk stained grandma Mo nightgown. Sorry mate ain’t happening tonight. Might want to have the V for vasectomy conversation again.
Z
ZZZzzzzzzzz…Not so much of that though.
I have had my say and you don't have to like it but you all know its true. Now excuse me while I go take some deep breaths before I die of hunger.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Why are you here? Its the weekend.
It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday!
No you are not mistaken. I do intend to spend my entire blog time praising good ol Friday. Don’t bother sending in any complaints. I said I would write everyday but didn’t actually specify what I would be writing about or that anything I wrote would be enjoyable or make sense. So save your complaints for when you all decide to start paying me for my life story. The only reason I haven’t sold my story to the Sun to turn into a Sunday column is because I am trying to spare my parents the shame of having an unstable child, should some snooping journalist ever discover my identity.
So people, enjoy these freebies whilst you can still get them. The moment I get married and change my last name (shaming my husbands family name ain’t so bad), no more freebies for you lot. You will have to pay £29.99 for the hardback edition of my Autobiography (won’t bother doing a paperback version, so all you stingo family members better cough up). I will be quite happy to sign all copies bought by my former blog readers for an additional fee of £49.99 including Postage and packing. I know some of you might think that is a bit steep (cheapskates) but think how much these signed copies will be worth when I win the Booker prize.
Ok! Tired of talking to you all now. I’m off to put on my dancing shoes and hit the town cause It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday!
Look stop complaining you lot. Your mates are out painting the town red and you saddos are sitting at home reading some hot babes blog. Go out! Get a life! Do something. Now that I’ve imparted my daily word of wisdom. I’m off to enjoy the fact that Its Friday! Its Friday! Its Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday!
Oh! do you guys like the new look? Got bored with all the black seeing as its now practically summer. OK! I mean it now...all of you go and have a great weekend and I'll see you guys on Monday.
No you are not mistaken. I do intend to spend my entire blog time praising good ol Friday. Don’t bother sending in any complaints. I said I would write everyday but didn’t actually specify what I would be writing about or that anything I wrote would be enjoyable or make sense. So save your complaints for when you all decide to start paying me for my life story. The only reason I haven’t sold my story to the Sun to turn into a Sunday column is because I am trying to spare my parents the shame of having an unstable child, should some snooping journalist ever discover my identity.
So people, enjoy these freebies whilst you can still get them. The moment I get married and change my last name (shaming my husbands family name ain’t so bad), no more freebies for you lot. You will have to pay £29.99 for the hardback edition of my Autobiography (won’t bother doing a paperback version, so all you stingo family members better cough up). I will be quite happy to sign all copies bought by my former blog readers for an additional fee of £49.99 including Postage and packing. I know some of you might think that is a bit steep (cheapskates) but think how much these signed copies will be worth when I win the Booker prize.
Ok! Tired of talking to you all now. I’m off to put on my dancing shoes and hit the town cause It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday!
Look stop complaining you lot. Your mates are out painting the town red and you saddos are sitting at home reading some hot babes blog. Go out! Get a life! Do something. Now that I’ve imparted my daily word of wisdom. I’m off to enjoy the fact that Its Friday! Its Friday! Its Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday! It’s Friday!
Oh! do you guys like the new look? Got bored with all the black seeing as its now practically summer. OK! I mean it now...all of you go and have a great weekend and I'll see you guys on Monday.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Money for hand...........
Operation Cave girl is now in full swing. Got a whole hours extra sleep today seeing as I didn't have to do mundane things like brush my teeth, hair or put on make up. So I feel really alert and bubbly. Even got a whole row of seats to myself on the tube. It was actually kinda packed but I guess everyone was feeling perky like me and didn't feel the need to sit down. Even work has been really relaxing. People seem to be reluctant to come over to give me work to do, but you don't hear me complaining. I will keep you all updated on my quest for natural beauty.
I was having a conversation with my girls today. Just putting the finishing touches to a girly night we’ve got planned when the Ijebu sisters (Ijebu Chick and SE Chick) tried to wriggle out of paying for their tickets. This is usually my territory. I try to use the single and depressed routine to get out of paying for stuff as often as possible. Shed a few tears, emphasise the fact that they are all loved up and just watch those wallets come flying out. I think its only logical that since all the others have live entertainment at home, I should be able to spend my meagre salary on buying myself as much entertainment as I can get. It worked all right for a while, but I think they’ve all figured out that I’ve probably bought myself enough entertainment to last a lifetime. So now when I start sobbing they just hand over some tissues and a banana.
Anyway, rather than drop kick and beat the ijebu sisters into submission… I suggested they convince their hubbies to pay for their tickets by being a tad creative in the bedroom department. Ijebu chick protested as always, but we all know she will spend the next couple of hours (when she is meant to be working) looking for an on line Karma Sutra manual. And when she gets home the cardboard box where she keeps the good underwear will come down from the top of the cupboard, pepper soup (Her “ Tonight’s the night “ weapon of choice) will be made and the rest as they say is “History”.
SE Chick, having only just rediscovered the joys of men, couldn’t even be bothered to pretend. She immediately stopped responding to e-mails and I have a funny feeling she is now on a bus heading back home to earn her money.
But it got me thinking …maybe that old adage is true. Maybe we are all ladies everywhere else and whores in the bedroom. Cause ladies lets be honest we all use the old ooohhhing and ahhhhing to get what we want sometimes or should I say all the time. You know how it is:
We have make up sex when we piss them off or even when they piss us off but we can’t be bothered to cope with their sulking for the next 3 weeks.
We have I saw the most gorgeous top yesterday but I’m broke sex.
We have there’s no way in hell you are going to a party with that womanising friend of yours sex. You know the kind of sex that has him so knackered he can’t remember his name let alone how to put on his trousers on to leave the house.
If theres a problem, we’ve got a position for it. But the question is, is it really fair? No offence brothers but we all know your brains are down there, so are we taking undue advantage by manipulating you with our feminine wiles? Cause as a woman, you piss me off its going to take a whole lot more than nibbling my ear to make things up. I’m talking constant grovelling and a Tiffany box. After and only after I have the little blue box in my hand, will stroking and ear nibbling be considered a decent form of apology.
Anyway, maybe I shouldn’t be letting our little secret out to the boys. Don’t want to spoil things for you Ijebu girls tonight. I know you girls won’t let us down so the drinks are on you two.
I was having a conversation with my girls today. Just putting the finishing touches to a girly night we’ve got planned when the Ijebu sisters (Ijebu Chick and SE Chick) tried to wriggle out of paying for their tickets. This is usually my territory. I try to use the single and depressed routine to get out of paying for stuff as often as possible. Shed a few tears, emphasise the fact that they are all loved up and just watch those wallets come flying out. I think its only logical that since all the others have live entertainment at home, I should be able to spend my meagre salary on buying myself as much entertainment as I can get. It worked all right for a while, but I think they’ve all figured out that I’ve probably bought myself enough entertainment to last a lifetime. So now when I start sobbing they just hand over some tissues and a banana.
Anyway, rather than drop kick and beat the ijebu sisters into submission… I suggested they convince their hubbies to pay for their tickets by being a tad creative in the bedroom department. Ijebu chick protested as always, but we all know she will spend the next couple of hours (when she is meant to be working) looking for an on line Karma Sutra manual. And when she gets home the cardboard box where she keeps the good underwear will come down from the top of the cupboard, pepper soup (Her “ Tonight’s the night “ weapon of choice) will be made and the rest as they say is “History”.
SE Chick, having only just rediscovered the joys of men, couldn’t even be bothered to pretend. She immediately stopped responding to e-mails and I have a funny feeling she is now on a bus heading back home to earn her money.
But it got me thinking …maybe that old adage is true. Maybe we are all ladies everywhere else and whores in the bedroom. Cause ladies lets be honest we all use the old ooohhhing and ahhhhing to get what we want sometimes or should I say all the time. You know how it is:
We have make up sex when we piss them off or even when they piss us off but we can’t be bothered to cope with their sulking for the next 3 weeks.
We have I saw the most gorgeous top yesterday but I’m broke sex.
We have there’s no way in hell you are going to a party with that womanising friend of yours sex. You know the kind of sex that has him so knackered he can’t remember his name let alone how to put on his trousers on to leave the house.
If theres a problem, we’ve got a position for it. But the question is, is it really fair? No offence brothers but we all know your brains are down there, so are we taking undue advantage by manipulating you with our feminine wiles? Cause as a woman, you piss me off its going to take a whole lot more than nibbling my ear to make things up. I’m talking constant grovelling and a Tiffany box. After and only after I have the little blue box in my hand, will stroking and ear nibbling be considered a decent form of apology.
Anyway, maybe I shouldn’t be letting our little secret out to the boys. Don’t want to spoil things for you Ijebu girls tonight. I know you girls won’t let us down so the drinks are on you two.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Slave to the MAC.
It’s going to be one of those days people. The kind of day that just drrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaggggs on and on. I know this because when my “Baby let me love you” by Mario alarm tone went off this morning (you all thought it would be something by Tyrese didn’t you? Huh! See you all don’t know me. You think you do, but I am an unfathomable enigma that you can never truly know. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!), I simply turned it off, rolled back under the covers and continued snoring (Yes! I snore. You got a problem with that? Its actually more like a soothing background noise that my future hubby will love, so there!) That's a bad sign.
The usual routine is to jump out of bed, examine the roundness of my tummy, have a shower, throw out the contents of my wardrobe in a bid to find something decent to wear, rush out of the house, put on my make up as I walk to the bus stop and eventually crawl into work a nervous wreck because some old age pensioner took almost half an hour to get across a Zebra crossing, almost making me late.
Today I crawled out of bed, ignored my tummy (had cake yesterday and didn’t really think I could face the damage), put something on, not sure what but hey I ain’t naked. Forgot to put on any make up and scared the bus driver half to death. Eventually made it into work, where everyone asked me if I was sick. NO! I just forgot to put any make up on! Gosh! You would think I wasn’t naturally beautiful the way they were all going on.
Why must I always be made up like a China doll to get some lurve? I think I should be able to prance around foundation free and still be admired and wanted cause the truth is...thats the real me. Thats the me Tyrese is going to get 1st thing in the morning and last thing at night(Don't be scared baby. Its really not that bad). As an act of defiance I will not be putting on ANY make up for the rest of the week so there.
On behalf of naturally beautiful women everywhere, I will be as nature intended, free of all artificial preservatives. Naked as the day I was born. Well not literally naked, not sure the world is ready for that yet. From now on anything that doesn’t naturally occur on my body will not be tolerated. From now on the following beauty rituals shall cease:
1) I will no longer be shaving various parts of my anatomy. If the Lord wanted me to be as smooth as a banana all over, he would have made me shed like a cat every 4 weeks. Since that ain’t happening, you should all embrace my new hairy cave woman self. I’m hoping after a few months my body hairs will be all silky and smooth and I can spend many hours sitting in the sun grooming myself whilst my equally hairy man rubs pink oil into me. Ahhhhh bliss!
2) I will no longer be polluting my pores with deodorant. From now it will be Mena’s natural musk all the way. It makes sense that my natural sweet smells will be better than anything that comes out of pressurised can. So it might take you all a while to get used to it, but soon you will see the error of your ways and come round to my way of thinking.
3) No need to cut my finger or toe nails anymore. Quite looking forward to developing bird like talons to eat with. Saves with all the embarrassment at fancy restaurants when you can't figure out what piece of cutlery to use.
4) Lastly, I think brushing your teeth is highly overrated. You're only going to get them messy gain when you eat, so why bother? The cave men did just fine cause when ever the dig one of those suckers up they’ve still got their teeth.
I know some of you are going to get all prim and proper on me and start going on about hygiene this and hygiene that. Well I say hygiene smygiene. I'm doing this to liberate you narrow minded people from your addiction to slap. So instead of crossing over to other side of the street when you see me coming...Give a sister a hug. Doesn’t matter if I smell like a sewer and my newly grown body hair is itchy. Just remember that I'm doing this for you.
This is obviously not a feat to be attempted by you average looking people, namely Hurry up and Propose Chick, Bunny go go licious, Ijebu Chick and SE Chick. You all know that without your daily application of Mac foundation, lipstick, eyeliner etc it really wouldn’t be safe for you guys to leave the house. You have to think of the safety of the general public. Cars crashing into each other at the mere sight of your pasty, unattractive faces really won’t do. So even though I want you to champion the cause of natural beauty with me, I ‘m quite happy to do it on my own. But if you all feel the need to join in, you can contribute by not shaving the usual regions of your anatomy. Will be round at the end of the week to check hair growth.
As for you guys who turned up to hear my lecture on why not to dry your under wired bra in the microwave...2 simple words "Electrocution stupid."
The usual routine is to jump out of bed, examine the roundness of my tummy, have a shower, throw out the contents of my wardrobe in a bid to find something decent to wear, rush out of the house, put on my make up as I walk to the bus stop and eventually crawl into work a nervous wreck because some old age pensioner took almost half an hour to get across a Zebra crossing, almost making me late.
Today I crawled out of bed, ignored my tummy (had cake yesterday and didn’t really think I could face the damage), put something on, not sure what but hey I ain’t naked. Forgot to put on any make up and scared the bus driver half to death. Eventually made it into work, where everyone asked me if I was sick. NO! I just forgot to put any make up on! Gosh! You would think I wasn’t naturally beautiful the way they were all going on.
Why must I always be made up like a China doll to get some lurve? I think I should be able to prance around foundation free and still be admired and wanted cause the truth is...thats the real me. Thats the me Tyrese is going to get 1st thing in the morning and last thing at night(Don't be scared baby. Its really not that bad). As an act of defiance I will not be putting on ANY make up for the rest of the week so there.
On behalf of naturally beautiful women everywhere, I will be as nature intended, free of all artificial preservatives. Naked as the day I was born. Well not literally naked, not sure the world is ready for that yet. From now on anything that doesn’t naturally occur on my body will not be tolerated. From now on the following beauty rituals shall cease:
1) I will no longer be shaving various parts of my anatomy. If the Lord wanted me to be as smooth as a banana all over, he would have made me shed like a cat every 4 weeks. Since that ain’t happening, you should all embrace my new hairy cave woman self. I’m hoping after a few months my body hairs will be all silky and smooth and I can spend many hours sitting in the sun grooming myself whilst my equally hairy man rubs pink oil into me. Ahhhhh bliss!
2) I will no longer be polluting my pores with deodorant. From now it will be Mena’s natural musk all the way. It makes sense that my natural sweet smells will be better than anything that comes out of pressurised can. So it might take you all a while to get used to it, but soon you will see the error of your ways and come round to my way of thinking.
3) No need to cut my finger or toe nails anymore. Quite looking forward to developing bird like talons to eat with. Saves with all the embarrassment at fancy restaurants when you can't figure out what piece of cutlery to use.
4) Lastly, I think brushing your teeth is highly overrated. You're only going to get them messy gain when you eat, so why bother? The cave men did just fine cause when ever the dig one of those suckers up they’ve still got their teeth.
I know some of you are going to get all prim and proper on me and start going on about hygiene this and hygiene that. Well I say hygiene smygiene. I'm doing this to liberate you narrow minded people from your addiction to slap. So instead of crossing over to other side of the street when you see me coming...Give a sister a hug. Doesn’t matter if I smell like a sewer and my newly grown body hair is itchy. Just remember that I'm doing this for you.
This is obviously not a feat to be attempted by you average looking people, namely Hurry up and Propose Chick, Bunny go go licious, Ijebu Chick and SE Chick. You all know that without your daily application of Mac foundation, lipstick, eyeliner etc it really wouldn’t be safe for you guys to leave the house. You have to think of the safety of the general public. Cars crashing into each other at the mere sight of your pasty, unattractive faces really won’t do. So even though I want you to champion the cause of natural beauty with me, I ‘m quite happy to do it on my own. But if you all feel the need to join in, you can contribute by not shaving the usual regions of your anatomy. Will be round at the end of the week to check hair growth.
As for you guys who turned up to hear my lecture on why not to dry your under wired bra in the microwave...2 simple words "Electrocution stupid."
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I'm back!
Goodness gracious me! It been almost 2 months and you guys haven’t heard a Dickey bird from me (What is a Dickey bird by the way? Answers on a back of a postcard to “Do I really give a monkeys”?). Once again the lack of public concern as to my whereabouts has me puzzled. I AM THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES YOUR DAYS WORTH WHILE! And yet no rewards regarding info about moi. No police enquiries etc. Don’t you all love me no more??? A girl like moi needs constant adoration and luuuuurrrrrrve and if you my adoring public ain’t giving me none, I think I might just take my life saga elsewhere. Monkeys are capable of learning how to read you know, so don’t you all be feeling like you’re irreplaceable. Slackers! Anyway, weather you are interested or not, I have returned to bore you all to death with my constant moaning and self-appreciation. So get used to it cause MENA IS BACK!
So much has changed since I last bonded with you all…
I left my old crappy job with its crappy pay and lack of appreciation for my unique sense of humour and multi tasking skills. I now have a new lovely job where I get to interact with like-minded individuals on important topics such as the best bars to get totally sozzled on a Friday night. Who you would want to survive a nuclear disaster with to repopulate the earth?
My personal preference being Tyrese. Considering he survived the career disasters that were 2Fast2Furious 1&2. That boy can survive anything. Aaaah the very thought, me and Tyrese alone, with nothing to do but get busy all day. Seeing as I would be doing it for a good cause, I can molest him as often I as want. Joy o Joy! I have attached a piccie for your or should I say my viewing pleasure. Just a little something to make the day go faster.
Still living in my ghetto flat, tormented by my uncultured family members, speaking of which…the unspeakable has happened. You lot will never believe it when I tell you
SE Chick aka dodo lover is ENGAGED. I know! I know! All thanks to my Mena Magu Seduction and me. Available directly from me at the bargain retail price of £159.99 excluding VAT. Some of you people might think that’s a lot but can you really put a price on happiness? There was SE chick living alone in her sad little world, with nothing but fruit and her constant stalking of me to make her happy. A few squirts of my love potion and kazam! She’s got a blokey, a ring and is slowly driving everyone insane with her wedding plans. Isn’t that sweet. So don’t delay people buy now whilst stocks are still available. And for all you sceptics out there thinking if it’s so great how come I ain’t using it. The answer is simple…It only works on ugly people with no sex appeal. I’m sure you all realise I have both in abundance, so there. No offence SE Chick but a girls got to make money.
I’m still round in sexy, hot kinda way but all my annoying family members seem to be getting hitched this year. I’m on the train at 2 of these weddings. In order to save myself the embarrassment of the photographer using an extra wide lense to take my picture, I have decided to join the gym. This way I am guaranteed to be a hit with all the single groomsmen. Note annoying family! I will not agree to be on anybody’s train until I have had a chance to review the best man and ushers at your respective weddings. Please forward pictures and shoe sizes to me and I will make the final decision. Its bad enough I have to wear some horrific coloured creation to make you brides happy but I refuse to spend the whole day paired off with some buck teeth loser with a paunch and loose grasp of the English language. I don’t care if he saved your ass, your grandma and your dog from a burning building when you were 5. That is no reason to make him your best man. This is about me and what will get me down the aisle as quickly as possible. If you all love me, you will only use cute guys with big feet on your train. Thank you!
Speaking of big feet, you will never guess who turned out to have big feet… Crap Dude (formerly known as Hot Dude). He is a size 12 apparently. Information that would have come in useful when he was acting like a mental patient. Size 12 feet I can forgive anything. Had you used your initiative SE Chick and told me this vital piece of information sooner, me could be married by now or at least have been veeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyy happy for 10 minutes on a cold lonely night. Thanks a lot so called friend.
Ladies why does it always happen that way? Its always the crappy, annoying God forbid I should ever date you guys that have BIG FEET! If you all don’t know the relation between big feet and happiness, you all need to change your circles of friends or trying sneaking into a male locker room. Big feet mean he never has to say he’s sorry. He can show me instead in a whole variety of ways all day long. Yes I KNOW! I’m sick and perverted but try going without for… Shame won’t let me tell you how long but lets just say the Naira was still a viable currency the last time a man saw my knickers.
As you might all have guessed the one thing that hasn’t changed is my single status, but to be honest I ain’t as cut up about it as I used to be. A sense of calm has descended over me and I’m actually happy. No! not just saying that, actually cool at the moment. Might not be in a week but so far so good. I guess I’ve realised that there’s more to life than having someone leave his filthy boxers around your flat. I have a hard enough time picking up my own underwear without worrying about someone else’s. Today Mena is pretty OK! Its alright people...Mena will never go away again!!! Tomorrow we shall discuss the reasons why you should never dry your under wired bra in the microwave.
So much has changed since I last bonded with you all…
I left my old crappy job with its crappy pay and lack of appreciation for my unique sense of humour and multi tasking skills. I now have a new lovely job where I get to interact with like-minded individuals on important topics such as the best bars to get totally sozzled on a Friday night. Who you would want to survive a nuclear disaster with to repopulate the earth?
My personal preference being Tyrese. Considering he survived the career disasters that were 2Fast2Furious 1&2. That boy can survive anything. Aaaah the very thought, me and Tyrese alone, with nothing to do but get busy all day. Seeing as I would be doing it for a good cause, I can molest him as often I as want. Joy o Joy! I have attached a piccie for your or should I say my viewing pleasure. Just a little something to make the day go faster.
Still living in my ghetto flat, tormented by my uncultured family members, speaking of which…the unspeakable has happened. You lot will never believe it when I tell you
SE Chick aka dodo lover is ENGAGED. I know! I know! All thanks to my Mena Magu Seduction and me. Available directly from me at the bargain retail price of £159.99 excluding VAT. Some of you people might think that’s a lot but can you really put a price on happiness? There was SE chick living alone in her sad little world, with nothing but fruit and her constant stalking of me to make her happy. A few squirts of my love potion and kazam! She’s got a blokey, a ring and is slowly driving everyone insane with her wedding plans. Isn’t that sweet. So don’t delay people buy now whilst stocks are still available. And for all you sceptics out there thinking if it’s so great how come I ain’t using it. The answer is simple…It only works on ugly people with no sex appeal. I’m sure you all realise I have both in abundance, so there. No offence SE Chick but a girls got to make money.
I’m still round in sexy, hot kinda way but all my annoying family members seem to be getting hitched this year. I’m on the train at 2 of these weddings. In order to save myself the embarrassment of the photographer using an extra wide lense to take my picture, I have decided to join the gym. This way I am guaranteed to be a hit with all the single groomsmen. Note annoying family! I will not agree to be on anybody’s train until I have had a chance to review the best man and ushers at your respective weddings. Please forward pictures and shoe sizes to me and I will make the final decision. Its bad enough I have to wear some horrific coloured creation to make you brides happy but I refuse to spend the whole day paired off with some buck teeth loser with a paunch and loose grasp of the English language. I don’t care if he saved your ass, your grandma and your dog from a burning building when you were 5. That is no reason to make him your best man. This is about me and what will get me down the aisle as quickly as possible. If you all love me, you will only use cute guys with big feet on your train. Thank you!
Speaking of big feet, you will never guess who turned out to have big feet… Crap Dude (formerly known as Hot Dude). He is a size 12 apparently. Information that would have come in useful when he was acting like a mental patient. Size 12 feet I can forgive anything. Had you used your initiative SE Chick and told me this vital piece of information sooner, me could be married by now or at least have been veeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyy happy for 10 minutes on a cold lonely night. Thanks a lot so called friend.
Ladies why does it always happen that way? Its always the crappy, annoying God forbid I should ever date you guys that have BIG FEET! If you all don’t know the relation between big feet and happiness, you all need to change your circles of friends or trying sneaking into a male locker room. Big feet mean he never has to say he’s sorry. He can show me instead in a whole variety of ways all day long. Yes I KNOW! I’m sick and perverted but try going without for… Shame won’t let me tell you how long but lets just say the Naira was still a viable currency the last time a man saw my knickers.
As you might all have guessed the one thing that hasn’t changed is my single status, but to be honest I ain’t as cut up about it as I used to be. A sense of calm has descended over me and I’m actually happy. No! not just saying that, actually cool at the moment. Might not be in a week but so far so good. I guess I’ve realised that there’s more to life than having someone leave his filthy boxers around your flat. I have a hard enough time picking up my own underwear without worrying about someone else’s. Today Mena is pretty OK! Its alright people...Mena will never go away again!!! Tomorrow we shall discuss the reasons why you should never dry your under wired bra in the microwave.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
1 way to drop a bra size!
I've done it ladies. I've found a diet that works for me. It’s quite simple to follow. Just find some loser guy to trample on your feelings and hey presto ... you're miserable, you can't eat, sleep or shower. I've been on it for a week now and I must say my bra straps do feel looser. I stink, but hey! I haven't got anyone to smell me anyway...Sob! So you are all probably thinking “What is it this time? Mena's always got something to moan about.” Well tough! That’s the joy of Mena. The constant depression and moaning is all part of my charm. Its spring, freezing, I'm round, broke, unemployed and can't find an outfit to wear to Market boy's shindig that doesn’t make me look 6 months pregnant. I have every right to be depressed. Anyway let’s start again.
I'm depressed because Hmmm Dude has turned out to be just like any other dude. Annoying to the point that makes you want to commit murder. What is it with you guys? Why do you clam up the minute we mention the word "Feelings?” All I said was "How do you feel about all this stuff going on between us?" and his eyes kind of glazed over, he suddenly developed a stammer and the articulate, intelligent, pal I've known for 10 years turned into a cave man and muttered "I dunno." What??!!!! Pardon? Speak up man!
After several attempts He finally came up with the gem “I’m not very good at talking about my feelings." Lordy! You would think I was asking him to take an exam. Fella's you don't have to be good at talking about stuff. You just have to say what’s on your mind. Its not like a whole lot of you are any good at sex, but hey you're all ready to whip out the equipment regardless. So you should view emotional conversations in the same way, because we aren't expecting anything along the lines of Shakespeare. We understand that the years of reading the "ARTICLES" in Playboy magazine and Busty Black Babes have probably addled your brains. So we are quite happy to settle for monosyllabic grunting as long as it gives us a clue to what is going on inside that head of yours.
Hmmm Dude is yet to grunt anything...monosyllabic or otherwise. So I got into a strop and have not spoken to him since. I confess… I miss him. I miss the conversations, the hanging out and even his annoying habits, which I won't go into incase I decide to forgive him and make him the father of my babies (It so wouldn't do for them to know anything about the video camera). Anyway, so we aren't speaking to each other and I'm sad. I moan to everyone I know about it. Out of frustration Hurry up and propose chick rugby tackled some poor guy of the street, put him in a headlock and demanded he hand over his phone number. He obliged, probably because he couldn't breathe due to the pressure of her chunky thighs on his windpipe. She handed over his digits and ordered me to call him and get my mind of Hmmm Dude.
I'm sure a lot of you are thinking “That’s so sisterly and sweet.” Well, you can save your sentiments. She only did it because Market Dude managed to stow away on a ship and will be arriving in the country soon. She's just trying to make sure I won't be calling her at all hours to moan whilst she's boring the poor boy to death with fabric samples for her wedding. Anyway, I’m fed up with men. I don't want to see, speak or think about men ever again.
I will join SE chick and embrace the joys of plantain/banana love(Yep! She's still at it). No hassles. Don't have to spend ages looking good for my yellow love. Just enjoy, peel and have a something yummy to eat afterwards. Yep! That sounds good to me. This will also leave me time to have more intellectual thoughts. I spent way too much time thinking about boys and marriage. Surely there are more important questions I could be asking myself instead of “Why am I single?” There is soo much going on in the world. I need to find the cure to roundness, get a job, accumulate more jewelry, and get a man. No! No! No! No backtracking. There will no longer be any man getting conversations on this blog. Only Meaningful stuff. It might take me a while to think up some meaningful stuff but I will! Obviously not today…maybe tomorrow or the day after. Hell! Who am I kidding? See you same time tomorrow when I will be discussing the reason why you should never go out with a man that has facial hair.
.
I'm depressed because Hmmm Dude has turned out to be just like any other dude. Annoying to the point that makes you want to commit murder. What is it with you guys? Why do you clam up the minute we mention the word "Feelings?” All I said was "How do you feel about all this stuff going on between us?" and his eyes kind of glazed over, he suddenly developed a stammer and the articulate, intelligent, pal I've known for 10 years turned into a cave man and muttered "I dunno." What??!!!! Pardon? Speak up man!
After several attempts He finally came up with the gem “I’m not very good at talking about my feelings." Lordy! You would think I was asking him to take an exam. Fella's you don't have to be good at talking about stuff. You just have to say what’s on your mind. Its not like a whole lot of you are any good at sex, but hey you're all ready to whip out the equipment regardless. So you should view emotional conversations in the same way, because we aren't expecting anything along the lines of Shakespeare. We understand that the years of reading the "ARTICLES" in Playboy magazine and Busty Black Babes have probably addled your brains. So we are quite happy to settle for monosyllabic grunting as long as it gives us a clue to what is going on inside that head of yours.
Hmmm Dude is yet to grunt anything...monosyllabic or otherwise. So I got into a strop and have not spoken to him since. I confess… I miss him. I miss the conversations, the hanging out and even his annoying habits, which I won't go into incase I decide to forgive him and make him the father of my babies (It so wouldn't do for them to know anything about the video camera). Anyway, so we aren't speaking to each other and I'm sad. I moan to everyone I know about it. Out of frustration Hurry up and propose chick rugby tackled some poor guy of the street, put him in a headlock and demanded he hand over his phone number. He obliged, probably because he couldn't breathe due to the pressure of her chunky thighs on his windpipe. She handed over his digits and ordered me to call him and get my mind of Hmmm Dude.
I'm sure a lot of you are thinking “That’s so sisterly and sweet.” Well, you can save your sentiments. She only did it because Market Dude managed to stow away on a ship and will be arriving in the country soon. She's just trying to make sure I won't be calling her at all hours to moan whilst she's boring the poor boy to death with fabric samples for her wedding. Anyway, I’m fed up with men. I don't want to see, speak or think about men ever again.
I will join SE chick and embrace the joys of plantain/banana love(Yep! She's still at it). No hassles. Don't have to spend ages looking good for my yellow love. Just enjoy, peel and have a something yummy to eat afterwards. Yep! That sounds good to me. This will also leave me time to have more intellectual thoughts. I spent way too much time thinking about boys and marriage. Surely there are more important questions I could be asking myself instead of “Why am I single?” There is soo much going on in the world. I need to find the cure to roundness, get a job, accumulate more jewelry, and get a man. No! No! No! No backtracking. There will no longer be any man getting conversations on this blog. Only Meaningful stuff. It might take me a while to think up some meaningful stuff but I will! Obviously not today…maybe tomorrow or the day after. Hell! Who am I kidding? See you same time tomorrow when I will be discussing the reason why you should never go out with a man that has facial hair.
.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
2 in a bed = ??????
My hearts pounding in my chest. Sweats running down my face like a waterfall and I can barely breathe from the sheer effort. I want to stop, but I say to myself keep going girl. You can do this. Yes! I can do this. I'm a Tiger.... hear me roar. I'm a strong, black woman and will not be defeated by the cheap cotton shoe laces on my Nike look alike trainers. Whoever thought bending over to tie your shoe laces could induce a minor stroke? I'm thinking of suing the manufacturers for the emotional stress and physical pain they have caused me. They really should put a warning on the box " Attention all fat cows! Do not attempt to put on shoes in a bending over position. Please seat your huge rear end on the floor and then proceed to tie said laces or better yet, get your long suffering partner, family member etc to tie them for you". With a warning like that I wouldn't have wasted half my morning huffing and puffing over the stupid things.
Anyway, no need to go jogging now. I think I can safely say I've had a very strenuous work out already. Maybe I should take up yoga. How hard can that be. Its all just fancy breathing and visualizing calming images. Tyrese in the shower. Tyrese in a thong. Tyrese in nothing but an apron making me dinner. Ha! I'm calm already. Bunny go go licious swears by it. Claims it makes her all supple and bendable. Why she needs her bunny ass to be any more bendable is beyond me. We need to donate that girl to science. Maybe they can figure out how one human being can dedicate so much time and effort to thinking about sex with out exploding. AHHH!!! It doesn't bear thinking about. I know some of you probably think I'm jealous since she's getting it and I'm not. But I can honestly say it has nothing to do with jealously. ITS ALL ABOUT PRINCIPLE!!!!!!!!
I should be the one being swung around by my ankles in some new kinky sexual position (and before you all start...Yes! I might not get any flight momentum going , but hey! who cares. Swinging, dragged on the carpet, who cares as long as it ends in a sweaty, tangled mess.) Not some disrespectful university of Ibadan girl. I went to public school for goodness sake. Not just public school...CATHOLIC ALL GIRLS PUBLIC SCHOOL. Us catholic school girls are supposed to be throwing off our knickers at every given opportunity but here I am with mine firmly wedged into place. I know I'm not supposed to be thinking about s e x but its hard. Especially when you've spent the entire weekend with a M A N!!!
Man! what man? you all say. For those of you that come to church with me......there is no man. Its all a figment of my imagination and to be honest you really shouldn't be reading this stuff anyway. Its crap and it will rot your mind. You have no idea how much forgiveness I need to ask for on a regular basis. For all you sinners out there... read on. I doubt anything you read in here can corrupt your filthy minds any further.
Ok! Lets get back to the M A N in question. Lets call him Hmmm Dude! Hmmm because Hmmm ! I really don't know what's going on with him or me for that matter. Known him for forever and now all of sudden he's starting to look cute. It might be the fact that we're both all grown up now and he longer has a scary penchant for wearing navy blue sailor blazers or maybe my "haven't had any in a while" hormones are just kicking in and all men are suddenly hot.
Anyway Hmmm Dude and I have been spending quite a bit of time together lately and now things are getting a tad blurry. Are we still just friends? Do friends hold hands in the cinema, cuddle on the sofa(I said cuddle SE Chick before you start flicking through your Bible for relevant passages to quote at me), Sleep on the same bed( I said Sleep Hurry up and propose chick. Not Snog, grope, rub, jigi jigi etc but sleep. Anyway I don't think anyone that shaves their pom pom, in preparation for goodness knows what, is in a position to be dishing out moral advise). Anyway, can you do all this stuff and really just be FRIENDS? or is it true when they say "A guy and a girl just can't be good friends without one of them thinking something else is going on?
When I speak to my Girlfriends they are all oh my God he fancies you. Ijebu Chick is already measuring my niece for her flower girl outfit. My male friends are like damn! Boy got game!!! He didn't even have to pay for a three course meal and he got a woman in his bed. They don't believe we both just went to sleep. According to them if that's true... He's either gay, an Eunuch or he's gay. Because according to Boy rule number 345 "Any man that has a woman in his bed most shag or at least attempt to shag her despite the fact that you might not fancy her." So at the moment I'm a little confused. Should I be insulted that he didn't try and rip off my Primark night gown? Cause lets be honest. It's Primark!! Hardly going to take a lot of effort now is it?? More importantly what would I have done if he had? Knowing me and my current situation, probably ripped one side , whilst he did the other. But seriously have we blurred the boundaries by being too friendly??? Am I reading too much into the whole spending time together thing? Am I just hormonal or am I starting to fancy my friend??? I really don't know. I need to calm down. I need yoga.......I need images of Tyrese holding a bottle of Johnson's baby oil.
Anyway, no need to go jogging now. I think I can safely say I've had a very strenuous work out already. Maybe I should take up yoga. How hard can that be. Its all just fancy breathing and visualizing calming images. Tyrese in the shower. Tyrese in a thong. Tyrese in nothing but an apron making me dinner. Ha! I'm calm already. Bunny go go licious swears by it. Claims it makes her all supple and bendable. Why she needs her bunny ass to be any more bendable is beyond me. We need to donate that girl to science. Maybe they can figure out how one human being can dedicate so much time and effort to thinking about sex with out exploding. AHHH!!! It doesn't bear thinking about. I know some of you probably think I'm jealous since she's getting it and I'm not. But I can honestly say it has nothing to do with jealously. ITS ALL ABOUT PRINCIPLE!!!!!!!!
I should be the one being swung around by my ankles in some new kinky sexual position (and before you all start...Yes! I might not get any flight momentum going , but hey! who cares. Swinging, dragged on the carpet, who cares as long as it ends in a sweaty, tangled mess.) Not some disrespectful university of Ibadan girl. I went to public school for goodness sake. Not just public school...CATHOLIC ALL GIRLS PUBLIC SCHOOL. Us catholic school girls are supposed to be throwing off our knickers at every given opportunity but here I am with mine firmly wedged into place. I know I'm not supposed to be thinking about s e x but its hard. Especially when you've spent the entire weekend with a M A N!!!
Man! what man? you all say. For those of you that come to church with me......there is no man. Its all a figment of my imagination and to be honest you really shouldn't be reading this stuff anyway. Its crap and it will rot your mind. You have no idea how much forgiveness I need to ask for on a regular basis. For all you sinners out there... read on. I doubt anything you read in here can corrupt your filthy minds any further.
Ok! Lets get back to the M A N in question. Lets call him Hmmm Dude! Hmmm because Hmmm ! I really don't know what's going on with him or me for that matter. Known him for forever and now all of sudden he's starting to look cute. It might be the fact that we're both all grown up now and he longer has a scary penchant for wearing navy blue sailor blazers or maybe my "haven't had any in a while" hormones are just kicking in and all men are suddenly hot.
Anyway Hmmm Dude and I have been spending quite a bit of time together lately and now things are getting a tad blurry. Are we still just friends? Do friends hold hands in the cinema, cuddle on the sofa(I said cuddle SE Chick before you start flicking through your Bible for relevant passages to quote at me), Sleep on the same bed( I said Sleep Hurry up and propose chick. Not Snog, grope, rub, jigi jigi etc but sleep. Anyway I don't think anyone that shaves their pom pom, in preparation for goodness knows what, is in a position to be dishing out moral advise). Anyway, can you do all this stuff and really just be FRIENDS? or is it true when they say "A guy and a girl just can't be good friends without one of them thinking something else is going on?
When I speak to my Girlfriends they are all oh my God he fancies you. Ijebu Chick is already measuring my niece for her flower girl outfit. My male friends are like damn! Boy got game!!! He didn't even have to pay for a three course meal and he got a woman in his bed. They don't believe we both just went to sleep. According to them if that's true... He's either gay, an Eunuch or he's gay. Because according to Boy rule number 345 "Any man that has a woman in his bed most shag or at least attempt to shag her despite the fact that you might not fancy her." So at the moment I'm a little confused. Should I be insulted that he didn't try and rip off my Primark night gown? Cause lets be honest. It's Primark!! Hardly going to take a lot of effort now is it?? More importantly what would I have done if he had? Knowing me and my current situation, probably ripped one side , whilst he did the other. But seriously have we blurred the boundaries by being too friendly??? Am I reading too much into the whole spending time together thing? Am I just hormonal or am I starting to fancy my friend??? I really don't know. I need to calm down. I need yoga.......I need images of Tyrese holding a bottle of Johnson's baby oil.
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