Posts
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww...I have a boil in my ear. I promise, I no longer let Pedro the Pizza delivery boy lick my ear as part payment for my weekly meat feast pizza. My elderly neighbour caught us at it on the driveway the other day and called the police. I was cautioned for lewd conduct and sadly Pedro is now on a ship back to Mexico cursing the day he met my broke ass self. Don’t know why he’s pissed at me. Not my fault he’s illegal. Anyway I have to be careful. Can’t afford to get anymore cautions from the Met police or my dream of waving a red passport around might stay just that. Anyway, I suspect I've been bitten by some poisonous tropical spider which stowed away in my recent delivery of Basky Monthly. Oh my God! I've been poisoned. How can this be?? So young, so beautiful and so unsnogged by Basky and yet I am about to be snatched from the world. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?????!!!! Boo hooo!
Sniff. Okay Mena, no more hysterics. You will continue to maintain a calm and dignified demeanour. Yes the world is about to lose a good thing but think what they have gained from your very existence. Sniff...true. I should start preparing for my grand exit. I guess I should sort out my assets.
Dear Ma & Pa Mena,
Please find listed below instructions on how to divide my vast wealth.
To the person who loved me most and appreciated my heart, mind and tremendous spirit...ME! I leave my shoes, bags, clothes, money and other amazing accessories. Please ensure that I am buried with ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL my property. If see anybody rocking my Fake Louis Vuitton Luggage (Yes even you mother dearest) I will have to take a leave of absence from heaven to come and haunt you. I'm not talking about Casper the friendly ghost hunting . I mean the “Haven't slept in a week because I see dead people” kind of haunting.
To the British Government, I leave my National Insurance Card. Please check my number against your tax records and give me back all the money you stole under the pretext of saving it for me until I am too old to work. You thought I would forget abi? No be so. I beg write me a cheque and let my people bury me with my hard earned money.
To Ijebu Chick, Bunnylicious, Essex Chick nee SE Chick, I have left money for my parents to pay a Mallam to come to your various houses everyday to administer 5 hooootttt slaps and 5 lashes of his koboko. You may think I am being cruel and vindictive (next time you will know who you are calling fat and bow legged. I am CUUUUUUUURRRVVYYY dammit!) But it is for your own good. I feel you all need someone to keep you in check whilst I’m not here so you don’t become more wayward than you all already are.
To my other assorted friends and family members, please distribute these signed pictures of me. So they can gaze upon my beautifully regular features everyday and realise what a good thing they had.
PS: Mama & Papa should I become famous after passing over. Please dig me up every month to deposit any future royalty checks.
Sniff…that was so emotionally draining. Who would have thought such a little person had so much to give. I think I’m going to have a nap. Between the realisation that I might never have my fairytale wedding to Basky showcased on The Bisi Olatilo Show, the stress at ibi ise and lack of sleep; I am quite knackered. I can hear you uncaring cretins saying "Ah! Ah! Mena. No be just typing you dey type for this your J.O.B? Not exactly physically taxing". All I can say to that is bad bele no go kill you. And don’t even try and turn the lack of sleep thing into anything sleazy. It’s all down to my inability to turn off my mobile phone…ever!
Just the other day I was having the most amazing dream. I was in a village looking cute in my wrapper and being chased round the well by Basky in a loin cloth. And just as he's about to catch me...his mobile phone starts ringing!!!!!! What the h...! We are in some back water village. How on earth is he getting reception and it suddenly dawns on me that ITS ALL A DREAM!!!!!!!!!!! I'm not about to be dragged into a hut caveman style and ravished. Boo Hoo!
I rub my delicate peepholes and glance at my Barbie Princess alarm clock. Yes I'm 31. What’s your point? If my mother had bought me a Barbie doll when I was a child. I wouldn't now feel the need to relive my childhood with Mattel accessories. Instead she bought me one of those plastic dolls Danfo drivers used to put in front their vans. I'm still traumatised by the experience. Please send money to ease the pain.
Where was I? Yeah I looked at my alarm clock and it's 11.30pm. Who dares call Mena at this hour interrupting her beauty sleep? It’s Mama Mena from Lagos. Panicking I grab the phone.
“Mum what’s the matter“?
The only time my mum calls at this hour is when I’m in a whole heap of trouble. My mind is on overdrive trying to remember what lie I might have told or what amount I kinda borrowed without asking when it suddenly occurs to me that I haven’t lived with my parents in years. So I couldn’t possibly be in any kind of trouble. Maybe it was something else. Maybe she was finally going to tell me the truth about why I’m the only hot member of my family. My true royal heritage was about to be revealed to me. Sultan of Brunei watch out! Your illegitimate daughter is on her way home. I am hardly able to contain my excitement.
I’m like “Mum are you alright? Do you have something you want to tell me“?
“I’m fine. We were just discussing the wedding and we were thinking maybe you should wear iro and buba“.
I’m confused. What wedding? Had someone come to ask for my hand in marriage without asking me first? Or had my mother lost her mind through years of waiting for me to bring a guy home and finally accosted Brother Tobias, our driver, and made me his 3rd wife? My heart is beating at 10 times the normal rate now.
“Mummy what have you done o??? The Lord says his time is the right time o. Don’t do something we will all regret. What wedding are you talking about again and more importantly why the hell would you think I would be caught dead in an iro and buba”?
There’s a pause on the phone and my mother finally responds
“O ti ya were ni? Why are you shouting at me? Pa Mena!!!!!!! Your daughter is shouting at me o. When I told you not to let her go London you didn’t listen. I told you all the women in my family have attended Ogbomosho Girls Grammer School for generations but no. That’s not good enough for your “Little Princess”. See your “Little Princess” now? She is sitting there unmarried, probably smoking Ganja and shouting at her own mother on the phone. 9 months I carried you and because you are now breathing by yourself you are wasting your oxygen shouting at your mother abi? Pa Mena! Where are you going? Come and talk to your daughter o! Oh! They’ve started African Movie Magic. Is it a new episode? OK! I’m coming. Let me finish this girl off. En hen. Where was I“?
“Look Mum I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I was sleeping and I was just a little confused about what wedding you were talking about“.
“You must still be sleeping. I’m talking about your sisters wedding of course“.
Oh her! Gee I can breathe again. Yeah what about the crazy psycho’s wedding?
“Your cousins and I have been thinking that maybe you should all wear iro and buba but I will discuss it with you tomorrow they are starting movie magic“. Click.
Its at times like these you need to remember the "Honour thy mother and father" part of the 10 Commandments because I was about to call her back and scream “Where are my real parents”? And hang up. Instead I snuggled back into bed and prepared to go back to my dream of being chased round a village well by Basky in a loin cloth and then…RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!
Somebody better be dying. Its Ijebu Chick otherwise known as “Pain in my delicate backside”. I was going to ignore her but seeing as she was preggies I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt that it was an important call.
Mena: Hello! Are you in labour?
Ijebu Chick: No.
Mena: Are Ibadan J Lo Princess and your Hubby ok?
Ijebu Chick: Yes. I called because....
CLICK! Yeah I hung up on her. You want to make something of it? I beg. She ain't in labour and everybody else is fine. You people think it's easy to have a dream about Basky in wide screen Technicolor? I've been praying and fasting for 2 solid weeks for this miracle (Sorry fellow prayer group members. I know we were meant to be doing it for world peace but certain things are more important). If I'm quick I might be able to get back to where I left off.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiinngg...Lord why? I've been so good this week. I didn't curse anybody even when they deserved it. I didn't steal toilet roll from the office bathroom when I ran out at home. All I want is 5 minutes with Basky. Just let me see what is under the loin cloth and I will call her back. Riiiiiiiiiinnnng. Fine! I'll pick it up but I just want the record to state that I think this is very severe punishment for lying to the pastor and fellow prayer group members.
Mena: Hello
Ijebu Chick: Whats wrong with your phone?
Mena: I don't know. It must be your signal. Whats up?
Ijebu Chick: I can’t see my feet
Mena: Sorry? (Has this woman been sniffing folic acid again?)
Ijebu Chick: My tummy is blocking my feet, so I can't see them.
Mena: What do you want to see them for? Just keep wiggling your toes to make sure they haven't fallen off.
Ijebu Chick: Why would they fall off?
I don't know crazy woman. Why they h... are you calling me at this indecent hour and expecting me to make sense.
Mena: Is that why you called me?
Ijebu Chick: No! Actually I wanted to find out if you knew where I could get a Mobile policeman uniform on the down low.
Lord please tell me it’s alright to trash this woman senseless the minute she pops out that baby. I'll do it whilst she's still in the Maternity ward so they can transfer her directly to A&E.
Ijebu Chick: Hello?? Are you still there? Mena!
Mena: Sorry…Even if I knew where to get one, why would you want one?
Ijebu Chick: Promise not to tell anyone?
I am now awake with all thoughts of Basky’s loin cloth momentarily forgotten. There is nothing like those 5 little words “Promise not to tell anyone” to signify that hot gist is about to land. Fluffing up pillows and opening the can of Red bull I keep on my bedside table for such emergency situations.
Mena: Yeah I promise(My fingers are crossed, so dosen't count)
Ijebu Chick: Ok! IT Dude (Her hubby) told me yesterday that his fantasy is to dress up like a Mobile policeman, arrest me for driving without my particulars and then have his wicked way with me.
Thank you Lord! I now realise you were not trying to punish me for lying at prayer group but rather to reward me for no longer stealing ibi ise supplies. This gist is hot. I am already planning who I can tell even as she is talking.
Mena: Really?
Ijebu Chick: Do you think it’s weird?
Weird ke? This one don pass weird my friend. I understand dressing up as a fireman, sailor, soldier, as a NORMAL policeman or even Santa Claus. But a Mobile Policeman?? That just takes razzness to a whole new level. Maybe if I liked you I would tell you run now and go and meet your mama for village before he asks you to dress up as a pure water seller. Unfortunately I feel you deserve the severe beating that Mobile policeman like to dish out with their batons to non particular holding drivers such as yourself.
Mena: No dear it’s not weird at all. It’s quite a common fantasy actually. Don’t worry. I’ll get in touch with my contacts and you and your (kinky weirdo) hubby can be rocking the night fantastic by the weekend.
Ijebu Chick: You’re a star. Sorry for calling you so late. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Click
That’s right sucker. Keep thanking me. As sweet as your gist was, it doesn’t totally make up for the lack of Basky action (hope he doesn’t have any weird fantasies o. My mama no raise kinky pikin). So will have to find a way to make you pay. I’ll just start by anonymously posting this interesting piece of info on your face book page and then see where else my spirit takes me.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Yeah! I've got problems too
Before you start, I now have a new complaints system. Anyone not happy with the regularity or content of the blog should direct their views to dontyouhaveajob@loser.com I promise, my team of highly trained customer service agents (who said you can’t teach a red bottomed baboon to respond to e-mails)and myself will respond to your queries ASAP(wait I dey come).
Look guys I’ve been MEGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAA busy. Not only have I had to hold down a 9-5, which believe me is hard if you have an aversion to work of any kind and a total dislike of other human beings. Yep! Actually just discovered that. Don’t actually like other people. Not just annoying ones who crowd your space and try and read your monthly Basky newsletter over your shoulder on the tube. Just all people in general. What’s the point of you all? No really? You just kinda crowd up the planet and make a whole bunch of noise. None of you are particularly interesting, attractive or witty. But hey! Guess you all can’t be me. Having to deal with work is bad enough but then throw in the stress of parents, crazy sister getting married and planning a trip to Nigeria…I’m about to have a nervous breakdown.
So it really doesn’t help that some of you have chosen this time to turn to me for advice. But to prove that I am not totally heartless and without some compassion. I will take time out of my hectic schedule and share a few words of wisdom. So let’s do this
Dear Mena
I am 35 and like you I am also a very sophisticated woman who has difficulty in meeting the right man. But I think my luck is changing. There has been a guy who has shown some interest in me. He is 40, extremely attractive, very loving and kind. He isn’t working at the moment though and money is tight. I have tried suggesting some job opportunities to him but he says he is waiting to find his true calling in life. This being the case we don’t go out a lot but stay at his bed-sit eating Big Mama bread with sardines whilst he reads me poetry. He doesn’t always have credit but flashes me all the time to call him. I am starting to fall for his charms but my friends think it's a bad idea to date a guy with no money. What do you think? Surely love conquers all?
Dear Confused
I beg come closer. No closer so you can hear what I am going to say well well. Confused…RUNNNNNNNNNN!!! Excuse me if I sound like a gold digging garden implement but you ain’t no spring chicken and definitely don’t have time to be playing love in Tokyo with a man who is allergic to work. Contrary to what you might think, no be love dey keep you warm in the winter. Na British Gas and last time I checked they don’t accept poetry as payment for central heating. I have no objection to someone having a hard time getting to where they want to be in life but if at 40 you never find your true calling then you need to be at church begging for break through not trying to romance women in your one room bachelor pad. Shame no even catch both of you? Him for being a good for nothing lay about and you for being the kind of woman that can be enticed by Big Mama bread and Titus. I beg respect yourself. Just because you are lonely doesn’t mean you should fall for the first guy that shows some interest. If he is serious about building something meaningful then he needs to get his act together or you will both find out the hard way that there is more to a relationship than love. Now get out of my office joker.
PS: If you were really sophisticated you wouldn’t be caught dead eating Pafun in some bed-sit in the middle of nowhere listening to substandard poetry.
Next!
Hey Mena
Long time reader, first time writer. I’m a big fan and really hope you can help me with this situation. I have been dating this guy for 8 years and even though we are both financially secure he still becomes evasive whenever the issue of marriage comes up. I am afraid that he is losing interest in me. Do you think I should get pregnant in other get a proposal out of him and keep him for good?
Dear Desperate
I think what you should do is stop reading my blog. I am horrified that my literary skills are being wasted on someone with a brain the size of a peanut. Firstly if he’s been milking the cow for 8 years (please don’t even bother lying that you’ve been abstaining) without even putting down a ring as a down payment then you need to realise that he ain’t gonna buy you. Not even if you throw a calf into the equation. Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t perfect. We’ve all given away free milk at some point or the other to guys who we thought were the ones but 8 years!!!!!!!!! Let’s use an analogy us ladies will understand. It’s like Fendi letting you take a spy bag out of the shop for free and then turning up 8 years later to collect their money. Would you give them money or throw their out of season USED bag out the window and tell them to hot foot it off your property? Them throwing in a free purse that I didn’t want or ask for isn’t going to help either. I would keep my money and go buy this seasons “It” bag. So I suggest you keep your legs closed and your ovaries in check. I’ve noticed that with guys, if they want to marry you, unless theres a whole bunch of factors in the way, they don’t take 8 years to do it. If he loves you, he will marry you and if he doesn’t, it’s time to move on. 8 years might seem a like a huge chunk of your life wasted but it’s definitely better than a lifetime of regret.
Gee! I thought I had issues but compared to you lot I’m kinda normal. Alright. One more nugget of wisdom and I’m out of here.
Hi Mena
I’m kinda embarrased writing to you, being a guy and all, but I figured that I need a woman’s perspective on this. I’m interested in this girl and I think she likes me too but I’m reluctant to make a move because I think she might be a tad more experienced than I would like. I’m no prude but don’t like the idea of my girl and maybe future wife being a notch on several guys bedposts. I want to be fair about this and not be a male chauvinist, so what do you think is an acceptable number of partners for a woman to have?
Dear Fair Guy
Are you a virgin? If the answer to that question is no, then don’t let the door hit your male chauvinist ass on the way out. If the answer is yes, same response (na me tell you make you no do). Why do all guys want us to be as pure as the driven snow? Maybe if you guys didn’t spend all your time trying to trick us into bed with promises of false love, then some of us might actually not have that many notches on our bed posts to begin with. I know some of us girls (like some of you guys) are just nympho sex freaks, in which case I would be tad concerned about leaving her alone in a men’s locker room. But hey! At least you know she’ll be able to rock your world when the time comes. You know what? I don’t know if this girl has had 1 or 100 guys. What I do know is if you like someone and want to start something new, then start something new and leave the past where it belongs.
I’m worn out and need my daily dose of Basky love. So if you’ll excuse me. I’m off to put on my slinky nightie and hop into bed to watch my Boo on You tube. Whilst I’m bonding, do check out Ayo.
Look guys I’ve been MEGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAA busy. Not only have I had to hold down a 9-5, which believe me is hard if you have an aversion to work of any kind and a total dislike of other human beings. Yep! Actually just discovered that. Don’t actually like other people. Not just annoying ones who crowd your space and try and read your monthly Basky newsletter over your shoulder on the tube. Just all people in general. What’s the point of you all? No really? You just kinda crowd up the planet and make a whole bunch of noise. None of you are particularly interesting, attractive or witty. But hey! Guess you all can’t be me. Having to deal with work is bad enough but then throw in the stress of parents, crazy sister getting married and planning a trip to Nigeria…I’m about to have a nervous breakdown.
So it really doesn’t help that some of you have chosen this time to turn to me for advice. But to prove that I am not totally heartless and without some compassion. I will take time out of my hectic schedule and share a few words of wisdom. So let’s do this
Dear Mena
I am 35 and like you I am also a very sophisticated woman who has difficulty in meeting the right man. But I think my luck is changing. There has been a guy who has shown some interest in me. He is 40, extremely attractive, very loving and kind. He isn’t working at the moment though and money is tight. I have tried suggesting some job opportunities to him but he says he is waiting to find his true calling in life. This being the case we don’t go out a lot but stay at his bed-sit eating Big Mama bread with sardines whilst he reads me poetry. He doesn’t always have credit but flashes me all the time to call him. I am starting to fall for his charms but my friends think it's a bad idea to date a guy with no money. What do you think? Surely love conquers all?
Dear Confused
I beg come closer. No closer so you can hear what I am going to say well well. Confused…RUNNNNNNNNNN!!! Excuse me if I sound like a gold digging garden implement but you ain’t no spring chicken and definitely don’t have time to be playing love in Tokyo with a man who is allergic to work. Contrary to what you might think, no be love dey keep you warm in the winter. Na British Gas and last time I checked they don’t accept poetry as payment for central heating. I have no objection to someone having a hard time getting to where they want to be in life but if at 40 you never find your true calling then you need to be at church begging for break through not trying to romance women in your one room bachelor pad. Shame no even catch both of you? Him for being a good for nothing lay about and you for being the kind of woman that can be enticed by Big Mama bread and Titus. I beg respect yourself. Just because you are lonely doesn’t mean you should fall for the first guy that shows some interest. If he is serious about building something meaningful then he needs to get his act together or you will both find out the hard way that there is more to a relationship than love. Now get out of my office joker.
PS: If you were really sophisticated you wouldn’t be caught dead eating Pafun in some bed-sit in the middle of nowhere listening to substandard poetry.
Next!
Hey Mena
Long time reader, first time writer. I’m a big fan and really hope you can help me with this situation. I have been dating this guy for 8 years and even though we are both financially secure he still becomes evasive whenever the issue of marriage comes up. I am afraid that he is losing interest in me. Do you think I should get pregnant in other get a proposal out of him and keep him for good?
Dear Desperate
I think what you should do is stop reading my blog. I am horrified that my literary skills are being wasted on someone with a brain the size of a peanut. Firstly if he’s been milking the cow for 8 years (please don’t even bother lying that you’ve been abstaining) without even putting down a ring as a down payment then you need to realise that he ain’t gonna buy you. Not even if you throw a calf into the equation. Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t perfect. We’ve all given away free milk at some point or the other to guys who we thought were the ones but 8 years!!!!!!!!! Let’s use an analogy us ladies will understand. It’s like Fendi letting you take a spy bag out of the shop for free and then turning up 8 years later to collect their money. Would you give them money or throw their out of season USED bag out the window and tell them to hot foot it off your property? Them throwing in a free purse that I didn’t want or ask for isn’t going to help either. I would keep my money and go buy this seasons “It” bag. So I suggest you keep your legs closed and your ovaries in check. I’ve noticed that with guys, if they want to marry you, unless theres a whole bunch of factors in the way, they don’t take 8 years to do it. If he loves you, he will marry you and if he doesn’t, it’s time to move on. 8 years might seem a like a huge chunk of your life wasted but it’s definitely better than a lifetime of regret.
Gee! I thought I had issues but compared to you lot I’m kinda normal. Alright. One more nugget of wisdom and I’m out of here.
Hi Mena
I’m kinda embarrased writing to you, being a guy and all, but I figured that I need a woman’s perspective on this. I’m interested in this girl and I think she likes me too but I’m reluctant to make a move because I think she might be a tad more experienced than I would like. I’m no prude but don’t like the idea of my girl and maybe future wife being a notch on several guys bedposts. I want to be fair about this and not be a male chauvinist, so what do you think is an acceptable number of partners for a woman to have?
Dear Fair Guy
Are you a virgin? If the answer to that question is no, then don’t let the door hit your male chauvinist ass on the way out. If the answer is yes, same response (na me tell you make you no do). Why do all guys want us to be as pure as the driven snow? Maybe if you guys didn’t spend all your time trying to trick us into bed with promises of false love, then some of us might actually not have that many notches on our bed posts to begin with. I know some of us girls (like some of you guys) are just nympho sex freaks, in which case I would be tad concerned about leaving her alone in a men’s locker room. But hey! At least you know she’ll be able to rock your world when the time comes. You know what? I don’t know if this girl has had 1 or 100 guys. What I do know is if you like someone and want to start something new, then start something new and leave the past where it belongs.
I’m worn out and need my daily dose of Basky love. So if you’ll excuse me. I’m off to put on my slinky nightie and hop into bed to watch my Boo on You tube. Whilst I’m bonding, do check out Ayo.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Don't I just sound soooooooo
SEXY!
Thanks to a recent visit to Olawunmi's blog. I have discovered the joy of voice messaging. Leave me a message or else.....
Thanks to a recent visit to Olawunmi's blog. I have discovered the joy of voice messaging. Leave me a message or else.....
Mena says...
Watch this!!!!!!!!
Don't know if you guys have heard of this series back home but you've got to watch it. I've only just discovered it and I loved it sooo much. If I could sell my sister's left butt cheek to see the second series right now, I would. I would sell mine but I've hardly got any ass as it is. Anyway you can watch the entire 1st series for free at
http://www.cucirca.com/2007/05/27/watch-heroes-online/
Don't say I never give you anything.
Listen to this!
Hmmmm Dude sent me this guys CD a while back when we first started getting close and before he started smoking illegal substances(how on earth do expect me to believe that boy ain't smoking weed? It's either that or he crazzzzzzyyy). His name is Kuku. He's a Nigerian based in America. You might have heard of him already, seeing as I tend to be extremely slow sharing with the masses. He's really cool and I can't wait till he comes to play in the UK. Check him out at
http://www.kukulive.com
Enjoy!
Don't know if you guys have heard of this series back home but you've got to watch it. I've only just discovered it and I loved it sooo much. If I could sell my sister's left butt cheek to see the second series right now, I would. I would sell mine but I've hardly got any ass as it is. Anyway you can watch the entire 1st series for free at
http://www.cucirca.com/2007/05/27/watch-heroes-online/
Don't say I never give you anything.
Listen to this!
Hmmmm Dude sent me this guys CD a while back when we first started getting close and before he started smoking illegal substances(how on earth do expect me to believe that boy ain't smoking weed? It's either that or he crazzzzzzyyy). His name is Kuku. He's a Nigerian based in America. You might have heard of him already, seeing as I tend to be extremely slow sharing with the masses. He's really cool and I can't wait till he comes to play in the UK. Check him out at
http://www.kukulive.com
Enjoy!
Sunday, September 02, 2007
My Boo! How could you?
Uhhhh!! Look what I found whilst looking for Nigeria related info online. I thought I better brush up on "Whats hot" and "What's not" seeing as I will be home in December. Naturally my Boo is on the "What's hot" list. Look at him looking all smart in his suit with his hair glistening in the Lagos moonlight(swoon). I think I will e-mail it to myself at work and make it my screen saver. It will calm me down when Telly tubby from accounts comes to my desk tomorrow to ask me some pointless work related question that I can't be ar... to answer. Anyway back to more important things. Seeing if we can find more piccies of my boo.
Kata! Kata! don happen. Basssssssssssssssskkkkkkkkyyyy!!!!! Who be that practically sitting on your lap??? Did they not have enough chairs at the event or what's with the closeness? Breathe Mena...breathe. It's nothing. She's probably his personal stylist. She's probably got a big ol tub of Brycleem or Twist n go in that deceptively small looking clutch bag of hers. Ready to jump into action as soon the lights from the camera start to dry out my Boo's nappy locs. That's it! Thats all it is. No need to spend your rent money buying a ticket to Lagos to slap anyone silly. Remember what you learnt at Anger managment classes Mena. Deep breath's. It's nothing. Once I get to Lagos I can ensure that all female non entourage members(who will be personally vetted by myself of course) will be seated 40 paces from my Boo at all times. OK! I feel better. Not perfect...but better.
I guess I can't blame you. It's not your fault you're irresistible to the opposite sex. I mean hot looks, charm and enough rib cracking jokes to last a life time??? What more could a woman want? Wellllll... actually I have a list of things you might want to go over just to ensure you are totally ready for the Mena in December. I ain't saying I won't accept any future proposals from you without them but it would considerably drop the bride price my father has in mind(10 years of UK education ain't cheap buddy)! So take note:
1)Cooking Skills
Don't get me wrong my Boo. I ain't one of these new age women who refuses to cook because a couple of my fellow sisters burned their bra's. I love to cook but I also love to feel special and there's nothing that makes a woman feel more special than coming home to find her hubby in nothing but an apron and a smile, making dinner. Might not actually get to eat any dinner with whole apron thing going on but it's the thought that counts.
2)The patience of a Saint
Yes! My niece Ibadan J Lo princess might finger paint all over your brand new Porsche in florescent pink paint so it matches her Malibu Barbie convertible. My great aunt twice removed might soak her false teeth in your best brandy and if my soon to be brother in law, Market Boy's, phone plays Shina Peters "Fuji Garbage" one more time... They annoy even me Boo and they are MY FAMILY. So if you are willing to meet them, spend time with them and still want to snog me afterwards...you've got be a keeper.
3)The ability to turn a blind eye
To the fact that I probably will never shave my legs again once we get married or my inability to bring myself to cook anything more complicated than bread and stew. We are married now. All that one I dey do before na for show. £30.00 for a full set of acrylic nails? Never again brotha. If I take that one to the market you and that your crazy auntie that likes to pop by unannounced(you're bound to have one. Everyone does) will be eating cow leg and snails for 3 months straight. Nope, the days of wearing make up, shaving, getting my hair and nails done and cooking Chicken a la king are over. Stuff like that will be saved for special occasions like anniversaries, your birthday and Independence day.
4)Generosity
A guy who comes home and says "...And I saw something I thought you might like whilst I was out today." gets less sex than one who comes home and says " I was out today and I got you this because it looked like something you might like." See the difference? You have been warned!I ain't greedy but I like a surprise gift as much as the next person. Doesn't have to be big or expensive. Even a magazine will do it. It's just nice to know you were thinking about me Boo.
You taking notes Basky?? You better be because I'll be home soon and will be giving a pop quiz. You fail and I might just have to heal my broken heart in Tyrese's muscly arms.
PS: There's no need to be nice to Ijebu Chick after we get married. She's mean and dosen't appreciate your hotness. She prefers Dbanj.
By the way, Ijebu Chick your Hubby know se you dey look half naked musicians on the internet? No be Open University he tell you to come check so he could sign you up for English speaking classes? Asewo!
Yeah, he's cute I guess. Has that whole rippling torso, harmonica playing thing going on. If you hadn't already captured my heart I might be tempted. But I'm a one man woman. You just wait till Johnson Baby oil and I finish with you. You'll be all glistening torso too Basky.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Don't mess with my spread!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bunny go go…a word please!
I returned home from a hard day at work and I was planning to put my feet up and have a nice slice of toast with some chocolate and hazelnut Nutella. Good plan abi? It would be except that my catering size jar of Nutella has disappeared. En en! Wait. Before you start swearing on the life of your 2nd cousin twice removed, listen to what I have to say.
Firstly, you were the last no good, thieving family member to gain access into my home. Secondly, when I heard the other day that you and your hubby had to be rescued by the RSPCA and the fire bridge because your car had been surrounded by a pack of hungry renegade squirrels, I thought nothing of it (well I did because that’s just plain weird but not what I’m thinking now). But now that I’ve discovered that my Nutella is missing, the pieces are starting to click into place. Missing chocolate & HAZELNUT spread, hungry squirrels, squirrels like nuts…see where I’m going with this?
OK! In order to spare you any further embarrassment please return my Nuttella now now. Actually, wait a second...If wildlife with a penchant for nutty snacks are following you down the street that means you’ve been spreading my Nutella on something other than baked goods. Olodumare!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN?? My Nutella is not for you to carry out painting by number experiments on your other half. You know what? just keep it and send me £5.99 to buy a replacement jar.
Na wa! Your own don pass kinky o! God forbid I should eat anything that comes out of your kitchen again because only God know where it’s been first. I mean there is even a picture of a little boy eating bread spread generously with the yummy,chocolaty goodness on the label, with the words “serving suggestion” in big bold letters. Can you not follow a simple serving suggestion or you no fit read again? You think that poor boys mother would have let him take part in the advertising campaign if she knew pervs such as yourselves were going to adapt it for obscene practices?? Anyway I don’t even know why I am surprised by you anymore. You better bring yourself over here and let me sprinkle you with some Holy water before you reach the point of kinky no return.
You know what; I don’t even feel like blogging again. I am now forced to eat my toast with “I can’t believe it’s not butter” which is false advertising because they sure ain’t fooling me. For all of you out there who think it’s a good idea to steal somebody else’s beloved chocolate spread “DON’T DO IT”! Its just cruel…sob.
Look! I’m not a prude. I’m all down with the whole food and sex thing but there are other ways to tantalise your other half without committing sacrilege with expensive, yummy spreads. You might want to consider buying that cheap, synthetic tasting stuff from Anne Summers (not that I know what it tastes like. I’ve been told it tastes synthetic) or for all of you who don’t have access to Anne Summers, please consult the list below for other spreadable alternatives. Getting Married Chick, this list is for you. I know how you like to use locally manufactured goods to set the mood . Take notes. You can thank me after the honey moon:
Choco Milo mixed with a little water and mashed to a smooth consistency has an almost similar effect.
Ogi, For those nights you are in the mood for some local loving, (please make sure it’s cold or you want be having any kind of relations for a looooooonnng time to come) is another alternative.
Fan Ice. I personally prefer the plain yogurt flavor.
Limca/Goldspot/Miranda - Take your pick
You also have a wide range of local fruit to experiment with (think 9½ weeks) - Agbalumo, Guava etc
I’ll leave you guys to get started on those and I’m sure you’ll think up some more on your own. But I hope you have all learnt what you can do with a bit of imagination and without having to resort to stealing other people’s spread able confectionery.
I returned home from a hard day at work and I was planning to put my feet up and have a nice slice of toast with some chocolate and hazelnut Nutella. Good plan abi? It would be except that my catering size jar of Nutella has disappeared. En en! Wait. Before you start swearing on the life of your 2nd cousin twice removed, listen to what I have to say.
Firstly, you were the last no good, thieving family member to gain access into my home. Secondly, when I heard the other day that you and your hubby had to be rescued by the RSPCA and the fire bridge because your car had been surrounded by a pack of hungry renegade squirrels, I thought nothing of it (well I did because that’s just plain weird but not what I’m thinking now). But now that I’ve discovered that my Nutella is missing, the pieces are starting to click into place. Missing chocolate & HAZELNUT spread, hungry squirrels, squirrels like nuts…see where I’m going with this?
OK! In order to spare you any further embarrassment please return my Nuttella now now. Actually, wait a second...If wildlife with a penchant for nutty snacks are following you down the street that means you’ve been spreading my Nutella on something other than baked goods. Olodumare!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN?? My Nutella is not for you to carry out painting by number experiments on your other half. You know what? just keep it and send me £5.99 to buy a replacement jar.
Na wa! Your own don pass kinky o! God forbid I should eat anything that comes out of your kitchen again because only God know where it’s been first. I mean there is even a picture of a little boy eating bread spread generously with the yummy,chocolaty goodness on the label, with the words “serving suggestion” in big bold letters. Can you not follow a simple serving suggestion or you no fit read again? You think that poor boys mother would have let him take part in the advertising campaign if she knew pervs such as yourselves were going to adapt it for obscene practices?? Anyway I don’t even know why I am surprised by you anymore. You better bring yourself over here and let me sprinkle you with some Holy water before you reach the point of kinky no return.
You know what; I don’t even feel like blogging again. I am now forced to eat my toast with “I can’t believe it’s not butter” which is false advertising because they sure ain’t fooling me. For all of you out there who think it’s a good idea to steal somebody else’s beloved chocolate spread “DON’T DO IT”! Its just cruel…sob.
Look! I’m not a prude. I’m all down with the whole food and sex thing but there are other ways to tantalise your other half without committing sacrilege with expensive, yummy spreads. You might want to consider buying that cheap, synthetic tasting stuff from Anne Summers (not that I know what it tastes like. I’ve been told it tastes synthetic) or for all of you who don’t have access to Anne Summers, please consult the list below for other spreadable alternatives. Getting Married Chick, this list is for you. I know how you like to use locally manufactured goods to set the mood . Take notes. You can thank me after the honey moon:
Choco Milo mixed with a little water and mashed to a smooth consistency has an almost similar effect.
Ogi, For those nights you are in the mood for some local loving, (please make sure it’s cold or you want be having any kind of relations for a looooooonnng time to come) is another alternative.
Fan Ice. I personally prefer the plain yogurt flavor.
Limca/Goldspot/Miranda - Take your pick
You also have a wide range of local fruit to experiment with (think 9½ weeks) - Agbalumo, Guava etc
I’ll leave you guys to get started on those and I’m sure you’ll think up some more on your own. But I hope you have all learnt what you can do with a bit of imagination and without having to resort to stealing other people’s spread able confectionery.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Ode to Basket Mouth
Oh my Basky so fine and fair
How I long to run my hands through your nappy hair.
My sister says you have dandruff but I know it ain’t true
She’s just jealous her boo ain’t as cute as you.
Oh my Basky so fine and fair
What must I do to draw you near?
Is it money you seek?
Or looks you desire?
I got them both and my visa credit card hasn’t expired.
Oh my Basky so fine and fair
Stop playing hard to get
Because you are starting to make me fret.
I’ll be home soon don’t forget
And we can make lots of baby baskets.
How I long to run my hands through your nappy hair.
My sister says you have dandruff but I know it ain’t true
She’s just jealous her boo ain’t as cute as you.
Oh my Basky so fine and fair
What must I do to draw you near?
Is it money you seek?
Or looks you desire?
I got them both and my visa credit card hasn’t expired.
Oh my Basky so fine and fair
Stop playing hard to get
Because you are starting to make me fret.
I’ll be home soon don’t forget
And we can make lots of baby baskets.
You did what?
Welcome back ladies and gentleman. It’s been a while hasn’t it? Don’t bother chastising me. You should all have learnt by now that its like water of a duck’s back. You don’t pay my cable bill and so I don’t care what you think. I’ve been busy actually earning my rent and weave on money and so haven’t had time for you freeloaders. But you should be glad I’ve been away for a while cause it means I have a whole load of stuff to tell you.
Firstly, before we begin I would like you all to stand up and show a little appreciation for Orange Broadband and their free laptop offer. All of you repeat after me “Orange ile ise yin ko ni jo non o”! Having acquired my freebie laptop, a whole new world has opened up to me from the comfort of my queen size bed. As Lil Mama says “ I be using it, I be, I be using it. I be logging in, I be I be logging in. My laptop”. I spent the whole Bank holiday weekend watching my true Love Basket Mouth on You Tube. Gee! My boo is so funny. Have also discovered I can watch a whole series of my favourite drama’s in one sitting. Yes this was truly a glorious weekend spent wallowing in my own filth, eating cookie dough ice cream in bed and watching Hero’s. Life is good!
Ok! Guess you all want to know what been up with Mena? Gosh where do I even begin?
- I’ve had payrise. I know! It was truly a miracle with the amount of dedication I put into my work.
- Been almost arrested by the police. It was a simple case of mistaken identity. Do I look like the kind of woman that steals alcohol at 8am in the morning??
- Haven’t managed to find a way to remove my brothers from the evil clutches of Bunny go go licious and Ijebu chick yet but I’m working on it. It will be 10 times harder now especially with Ijebu chick about to drop another Ibadan prince/princess into the mix and Bunny go go spending her entire salary in Anne Summers.
- I still haven’t found a way to ensnare my true love Basky. My sister has let me down AGAIN! She’s just being selfish holding on to both her kidneys when she can survive fine on just one. Go on! Be a sport and sell the other one so you can afford to pay for Basky to come to your wedding.
So many things to talk about. I know! Lets start with my newfound belief in jazz. No ain’t talking about Herbie Hancock. I’m talking about hardcore African juju. I’m an educated woman (No! its not hard to believe sometimes. Prats)! And I like to think I’m level headed and not prone to outrageous flights of fancy but lately I’m beginning to believe there are people out there waiting to slap some funky jazz on my forehead and bend me to their evil will otherwise how do you explain:
The return of Hmmmm Dude
You all remember him. The guy I’d known for ages that I got pretty close too (He saw me in my Primark nightgown) and then he turned round and gave me some story about not knowing what he wants. Well kicked him to the kerb about a year ago and refused to speak to him. I was doing all right but you know how you boys are when you get a taste of the Mena, just can’t leave it alone. So he kept sending me texts and calling and I kept ignoring him.
Then one day something odd happened. He called and I PICKED UP THE PHONE! Why in God’s name did I do that? The only logical explanation… Na jazz. “Ah! Ah! Mena . Chill”! I hear you say. “ It was your subconscious desires to speak to him that made you pick up the phone and not some outdated hocus pocus”. En thank you professor in training. I say na jazz, magoo, black magic or juju that made me do it because it doesn’t end there people. Oh no! It gets much worse. Not only did I start speaking to him again (I had told myself I would be distant and polite but not over friendly and would definitely not meet up with him) he asked me out for a drink and I said Yes! I said yes, bought an outfit and didn’t eat for a week before our date.
I met up with him and before we even got to the restaurant he was holding my hand to cross the street and I was giggling like a crazy Japanese schoolgirl. During dinner (We went to this lovely dim sum restaurant), I let him feed me food. As he was doing it I was thinking Mena!!!!!!!!!!!!! Asewo extraordinaire! Your life don better. You haven’t seen this guy in over a year; he’s a prat and not even a Tyrese look alike prat. So what the hell are you doing?? No be me inner consciousness na the jazz dey work. Anyway after acting like a total desperado on the date I went home and gave myself a good talking too. No more fooling around with the enemy. You enjoyed your free dinner and lets just leave it at that.
2 weeks later we’re talking to each other for at least 3 hours a day, everyday, sending stupid texts and calling each other first thing in the morning. I’m exhausted by all the late night calls and I'm asking myself what I’m doing? But my rational mind has been subdued by jazz and I just can’t break free. Finally 2 months later, through the haze of juju a light breaks through and I’m strong enough to ask the question that all men dread “ What’s going on between us”? And ladies, guess what he said? “I like you and there’s definitely something more than friendship going on here but I’ve got issues I need to sort out”.
Na only God save am because I wanted to remove my limited edition Angie Gooderman shoes and hit him over the head screaming “You no know se you get issues before you dey feed me pork dumplings abi”?? But I’m happy to say I restrained myself and was very dignified about the whole thing. Simply told him I didn’t have time to sustain a one sided relationship and for him to simply bugger off.
He did and 2 months down the line I’m doing OK. I miss him but hey that’s life. I just can’t figure out how I let that happen. Once was bad enough but twice?? I need to get his baba’s number because whatever jazz he used on me, I want some for Tyrese. Anyway, that’s the end of Hmmmm Dude or is it? He sent me some CD’s the other day (probably covered in a new kind of jazz). No note, just the CD’s and I just kept thinking to myself why can’t he just leave me alone? Men! Don’t you just hate them?
Firstly, before we begin I would like you all to stand up and show a little appreciation for Orange Broadband and their free laptop offer. All of you repeat after me “Orange ile ise yin ko ni jo non o”! Having acquired my freebie laptop, a whole new world has opened up to me from the comfort of my queen size bed. As Lil Mama says “ I be using it, I be, I be using it. I be logging in, I be I be logging in. My laptop”. I spent the whole Bank holiday weekend watching my true Love Basket Mouth on You Tube. Gee! My boo is so funny. Have also discovered I can watch a whole series of my favourite drama’s in one sitting. Yes this was truly a glorious weekend spent wallowing in my own filth, eating cookie dough ice cream in bed and watching Hero’s. Life is good!
Ok! Guess you all want to know what been up with Mena? Gosh where do I even begin?
- I’ve had payrise. I know! It was truly a miracle with the amount of dedication I put into my work.
- Been almost arrested by the police. It was a simple case of mistaken identity. Do I look like the kind of woman that steals alcohol at 8am in the morning??
- Haven’t managed to find a way to remove my brothers from the evil clutches of Bunny go go licious and Ijebu chick yet but I’m working on it. It will be 10 times harder now especially with Ijebu chick about to drop another Ibadan prince/princess into the mix and Bunny go go spending her entire salary in Anne Summers.
- I still haven’t found a way to ensnare my true love Basky. My sister has let me down AGAIN! She’s just being selfish holding on to both her kidneys when she can survive fine on just one. Go on! Be a sport and sell the other one so you can afford to pay for Basky to come to your wedding.
So many things to talk about. I know! Lets start with my newfound belief in jazz. No ain’t talking about Herbie Hancock. I’m talking about hardcore African juju. I’m an educated woman (No! its not hard to believe sometimes. Prats)! And I like to think I’m level headed and not prone to outrageous flights of fancy but lately I’m beginning to believe there are people out there waiting to slap some funky jazz on my forehead and bend me to their evil will otherwise how do you explain:
The return of Hmmmm Dude
You all remember him. The guy I’d known for ages that I got pretty close too (He saw me in my Primark nightgown) and then he turned round and gave me some story about not knowing what he wants. Well kicked him to the kerb about a year ago and refused to speak to him. I was doing all right but you know how you boys are when you get a taste of the Mena, just can’t leave it alone. So he kept sending me texts and calling and I kept ignoring him.
Then one day something odd happened. He called and I PICKED UP THE PHONE! Why in God’s name did I do that? The only logical explanation… Na jazz. “Ah! Ah! Mena . Chill”! I hear you say. “ It was your subconscious desires to speak to him that made you pick up the phone and not some outdated hocus pocus”. En thank you professor in training. I say na jazz, magoo, black magic or juju that made me do it because it doesn’t end there people. Oh no! It gets much worse. Not only did I start speaking to him again (I had told myself I would be distant and polite but not over friendly and would definitely not meet up with him) he asked me out for a drink and I said Yes! I said yes, bought an outfit and didn’t eat for a week before our date.
I met up with him and before we even got to the restaurant he was holding my hand to cross the street and I was giggling like a crazy Japanese schoolgirl. During dinner (We went to this lovely dim sum restaurant), I let him feed me food. As he was doing it I was thinking Mena!!!!!!!!!!!!! Asewo extraordinaire! Your life don better. You haven’t seen this guy in over a year; he’s a prat and not even a Tyrese look alike prat. So what the hell are you doing?? No be me inner consciousness na the jazz dey work. Anyway after acting like a total desperado on the date I went home and gave myself a good talking too. No more fooling around with the enemy. You enjoyed your free dinner and lets just leave it at that.
2 weeks later we’re talking to each other for at least 3 hours a day, everyday, sending stupid texts and calling each other first thing in the morning. I’m exhausted by all the late night calls and I'm asking myself what I’m doing? But my rational mind has been subdued by jazz and I just can’t break free. Finally 2 months later, through the haze of juju a light breaks through and I’m strong enough to ask the question that all men dread “ What’s going on between us”? And ladies, guess what he said? “I like you and there’s definitely something more than friendship going on here but I’ve got issues I need to sort out”.
Na only God save am because I wanted to remove my limited edition Angie Gooderman shoes and hit him over the head screaming “You no know se you get issues before you dey feed me pork dumplings abi”?? But I’m happy to say I restrained myself and was very dignified about the whole thing. Simply told him I didn’t have time to sustain a one sided relationship and for him to simply bugger off.
He did and 2 months down the line I’m doing OK. I miss him but hey that’s life. I just can’t figure out how I let that happen. Once was bad enough but twice?? I need to get his baba’s number because whatever jazz he used on me, I want some for Tyrese. Anyway, that’s the end of Hmmmm Dude or is it? He sent me some CD’s the other day (probably covered in a new kind of jazz). No note, just the CD’s and I just kept thinking to myself why can’t he just leave me alone? Men! Don’t you just hate them?
Friday, May 04, 2007
Thank God there are only 24 hrs in day.
Today started out pretty good.
I woke up early, forced myself out of bed and went for a run. Got home, did 100 sit ups (OK! 60 but I was close), had a little hip wiggling session with my home girls Beyonce and Shakira. Then I hit the shower. I picked out a lovely summery outfit and wait for it …got my bra on the LAST hook. No pain. No lack of oxygen. Nothing but comfortable, boulder holding support. Yes ladies and gentlemen! It was a very emotional moment. I shed a tear and captured the scene on my camera phone. So should any of you receive an e-mail with a picture showing a gorgeous back wearing a bra hooked all the way, don’t think someone signed you up for internet porn. It will be me just sharing the moment. After so much joy I was expecting my day to just get better and better. So with a skip in my step I headed out the door and disaster struck.
I was confronted by dark clouds and an arctic wind that sent me scurrying back through the front door. Believe me I’m no wimp and I’ve been known to face horrific weather conditions in nothing but a pair of flip flops and a thin cotton dress but today was not a day for bravery. I dug out my jacket and for the second time today shed a tear for the cute summery outfit that no one on my journey to work will see. Sob!
Got on my overcrowded bus and someone stepped on my toes scuffing my newly applied Rouge noir nail polish. As if that wasn't bad enough, I was then assaulted by a balding pensioner who kept pressing his suitcase against my thigh. At least I thought it was his suitcase until he got off the bus empty handed with a very self-satisfied grin on his face. Oh my gosh! Had I just been used as a sexual aid by a man old enough to have been around when the light bulb was invented? Ewwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!! I need a bath.
I get into my ibi ise still traumatised by the sexual assault against my person (maybe I should call the police? There might be others suffering at the hands of this geriatric predator as we speak). I decided to leave that till I got a chance to calm down. I figured I would cheer myself up by parading my new and improved figure around my ibi ise. I've been doing this all week now in cute little outfits emphasising my curves in the hope that someone would notice and compliment me. One week on the twerps haven’t said a word. I blame them not. They are all just jealous of my ghetto fabulous body. Deciding to ignore them and get some work done I scanned through my e-mails only to be confronted by an e-mail from HR regarding company dress code policy….
“It has come to our attention that certain individuals have been flaunting company policy by wearing inappropriate clothing in the work place. Tight, revealing, figure hugging, extremely short, sleeveless or see through attire is not permitted in the office environment. It is essential that all staff adhere to company policy by being professionally attired at all times. Further disregard for this policy will be met with disciplinary action”.
I agreed totally with them jare. Some people just take the pi.. . I won’t mention any names but a polyester suit is just bad taste. Some people just need to get their act together. I casually enquired from the rest of the ibi ise what they thought about the latest drama from HR only to find out that no one else had received the e-mail in question. It slowly dawned on me that they were talking about ME!!!!
Me! “Flaunting company policy …disciplinary action”? How could this be? I’m always immaculately turned out (barring the too fat to fit into normal clothes part of my life). I mean what’s not professional looking about a fitted shirt and a skirt to work. All right, the shirt was cropped and did seem to expose quite a bit of cleavage but hey! It had sleeves. And the skirt did go over my knees and a little bit up my thigh but you can only see my knickers if I bend over. This is just discrimination. Fattism, that’s what it is. Some confectionery eating person, jealous of my newly defined abs has reported me to the powers that be.
I suspect that cake-eating monster from accounts. I don’t think she ever forgave me for saying the miniature telly tubby on my desk looked like her and that the next time she brought me files to work on 5 minutes before closing again I would use it as a voodoo doll and stick a pin in it (Not Christian like but I need something to pray for forgiveness about don’t I?). I’ve noticed that anytime she’s not feeling too well these days she always finds a reason to come over to my desk and play with La La. I think she’s actually checking to make sure I haven’t stuck anything in it like I promised. Don’t know why she’s worrying about me finishing her off. That packet of Monster munch she’s wolfing down for breakfast will get her before I ever will.
Anyway I’ve decided to ignore their evil and rude behaviour towards me. It’s not their fault. Nonsense! My papa too get company and if not because I don’t like chickens, hard work, lack of electricity and mosquitoes, I would be there now wearing hot pants and a boob tube to work. I will even leave your cold country for you sef. Where bad weather reigns and peverted pensioners are allowed to freely roam the streets. My hubby to be, Basket Mouth is in Nigeria anyway and I ‘m sure he would find it terribly hard to maintain a long distance relationship. I mean, how is he expected to be funny when all he can think about is me, so far away. That’s it. I will not let my boo suffer any longer. I will pack my fake Louis Vuitton luggage and head on home.
Did I tell you my boo is in London this weekend? I’m sooooooooooo excited. My special invitation must have gotten lost in the post but no matter. I’ve decided to buy a ticket like the other commoners and surprise him. Naturally I don’t want to mingle with the commoners in the audience on my own. I would naturally stand out with my hot body and exotic looks. So I’m trying to convince Bunnylicious, Ijebu Chick, Preggy Chick (she’s a maybe. I don’t trust her not to go into labour and have her waters break all over my REAL YSL shoes. No offence girl! Designer shoes are designer shoes after all) and their respective hubbies come with me.
They would blend naturally into the crowd after all (especially Ijebu chick with her hard core Yoruba looks…next time you will give me fried stew when I ask) giving me cover and also protecting me from the stampede liable to occur when Mena steps into the room. I will obviously try to tone down my beauty so that the other girls don’t feel facially challenged but it will be hard.They are all playing hard to get but hopefully my persistent whining should start to wear them down pretty soon.
I’ll let you all know how the Mena/Basket Mouth reunion goes. Now I’m off to stick some pins in La La and put it head first into a mug of scalding coffee.
Have a great weekend.
I woke up early, forced myself out of bed and went for a run. Got home, did 100 sit ups (OK! 60 but I was close), had a little hip wiggling session with my home girls Beyonce and Shakira. Then I hit the shower. I picked out a lovely summery outfit and wait for it …got my bra on the LAST hook. No pain. No lack of oxygen. Nothing but comfortable, boulder holding support. Yes ladies and gentlemen! It was a very emotional moment. I shed a tear and captured the scene on my camera phone. So should any of you receive an e-mail with a picture showing a gorgeous back wearing a bra hooked all the way, don’t think someone signed you up for internet porn. It will be me just sharing the moment. After so much joy I was expecting my day to just get better and better. So with a skip in my step I headed out the door and disaster struck.
I was confronted by dark clouds and an arctic wind that sent me scurrying back through the front door. Believe me I’m no wimp and I’ve been known to face horrific weather conditions in nothing but a pair of flip flops and a thin cotton dress but today was not a day for bravery. I dug out my jacket and for the second time today shed a tear for the cute summery outfit that no one on my journey to work will see. Sob!
Got on my overcrowded bus and someone stepped on my toes scuffing my newly applied Rouge noir nail polish. As if that wasn't bad enough, I was then assaulted by a balding pensioner who kept pressing his suitcase against my thigh. At least I thought it was his suitcase until he got off the bus empty handed with a very self-satisfied grin on his face. Oh my gosh! Had I just been used as a sexual aid by a man old enough to have been around when the light bulb was invented? Ewwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!! I need a bath.
I get into my ibi ise still traumatised by the sexual assault against my person (maybe I should call the police? There might be others suffering at the hands of this geriatric predator as we speak). I decided to leave that till I got a chance to calm down. I figured I would cheer myself up by parading my new and improved figure around my ibi ise. I've been doing this all week now in cute little outfits emphasising my curves in the hope that someone would notice and compliment me. One week on the twerps haven’t said a word. I blame them not. They are all just jealous of my ghetto fabulous body. Deciding to ignore them and get some work done I scanned through my e-mails only to be confronted by an e-mail from HR regarding company dress code policy….
“It has come to our attention that certain individuals have been flaunting company policy by wearing inappropriate clothing in the work place. Tight, revealing, figure hugging, extremely short, sleeveless or see through attire is not permitted in the office environment. It is essential that all staff adhere to company policy by being professionally attired at all times. Further disregard for this policy will be met with disciplinary action”.
I agreed totally with them jare. Some people just take the pi.. . I won’t mention any names but a polyester suit is just bad taste. Some people just need to get their act together. I casually enquired from the rest of the ibi ise what they thought about the latest drama from HR only to find out that no one else had received the e-mail in question. It slowly dawned on me that they were talking about ME!!!!
Me! “Flaunting company policy …disciplinary action”? How could this be? I’m always immaculately turned out (barring the too fat to fit into normal clothes part of my life). I mean what’s not professional looking about a fitted shirt and a skirt to work. All right, the shirt was cropped and did seem to expose quite a bit of cleavage but hey! It had sleeves. And the skirt did go over my knees and a little bit up my thigh but you can only see my knickers if I bend over. This is just discrimination. Fattism, that’s what it is. Some confectionery eating person, jealous of my newly defined abs has reported me to the powers that be.
I suspect that cake-eating monster from accounts. I don’t think she ever forgave me for saying the miniature telly tubby on my desk looked like her and that the next time she brought me files to work on 5 minutes before closing again I would use it as a voodoo doll and stick a pin in it (Not Christian like but I need something to pray for forgiveness about don’t I?). I’ve noticed that anytime she’s not feeling too well these days she always finds a reason to come over to my desk and play with La La. I think she’s actually checking to make sure I haven’t stuck anything in it like I promised. Don’t know why she’s worrying about me finishing her off. That packet of Monster munch she’s wolfing down for breakfast will get her before I ever will.
Anyway I’ve decided to ignore their evil and rude behaviour towards me. It’s not their fault. Nonsense! My papa too get company and if not because I don’t like chickens, hard work, lack of electricity and mosquitoes, I would be there now wearing hot pants and a boob tube to work. I will even leave your cold country for you sef. Where bad weather reigns and peverted pensioners are allowed to freely roam the streets. My hubby to be, Basket Mouth is in Nigeria anyway and I ‘m sure he would find it terribly hard to maintain a long distance relationship. I mean, how is he expected to be funny when all he can think about is me, so far away. That’s it. I will not let my boo suffer any longer. I will pack my fake Louis Vuitton luggage and head on home.
Did I tell you my boo is in London this weekend? I’m sooooooooooo excited. My special invitation must have gotten lost in the post but no matter. I’ve decided to buy a ticket like the other commoners and surprise him. Naturally I don’t want to mingle with the commoners in the audience on my own. I would naturally stand out with my hot body and exotic looks. So I’m trying to convince Bunnylicious, Ijebu Chick, Preggy Chick (she’s a maybe. I don’t trust her not to go into labour and have her waters break all over my REAL YSL shoes. No offence girl! Designer shoes are designer shoes after all) and their respective hubbies come with me.
They would blend naturally into the crowd after all (especially Ijebu chick with her hard core Yoruba looks…next time you will give me fried stew when I ask) giving me cover and also protecting me from the stampede liable to occur when Mena steps into the room. I will obviously try to tone down my beauty so that the other girls don’t feel facially challenged but it will be hard.They are all playing hard to get but hopefully my persistent whining should start to wear them down pretty soon.
I’ll let you all know how the Mena/Basket Mouth reunion goes. Now I’m off to stick some pins in La La and put it head first into a mug of scalding coffee.
Have a great weekend.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Counting my blessings
Boo hoo!
I’m broke! Will you all come back here? Did I ask any of you for money that you’re running? If I said I was feeling generous and was giving out free cash you’d all be pushing each other over to get to me. Even you Preggy Chick nee SE Chick? Do you think I can’t see your mammoth stomach protruding from behind the sofa? You guys need to see this girl in her Preggy state. If I hadn’t seen her husband alive and well the other day I would have been under the assumption that she had eaten him. She is huge and waddles all over the place like a giant duck. But it’s only a few weeks to go now and I’ll have to think of something else to call her. Till then, Preggy Chick whip out your purse and lend me a tenner now. What’s always wrong with you sef? Its summer and I need to buy myself a pair of hot pants (Anyone that has anything to say about my choice of summer wear should meet me outside later).
Anyway I won’t let the fact that I’m broke or that you are all stingy so and so upset me. Nope! I’m feeling very positive this month. So much so I have decided to make a list of all the things I should be thankful for:
1) I’m alive! To those that owe me money, dislike big opinionated women and who I torment on a regular basis this might not be such good news. To all those not so happy about me being around, I wish you all scaly skin, rashes and killer pimples (Yes! I’m a Christian. What’s your point)?
2) I managed to get my bra unto the second hook today (round of applause please) and when I hold my breath and the light hits me from a certain angle, I can almost see a rib. Hmmm or maybe it was an imprint from that oh so tight sports bra? No! I will not depress myself. It was a rib.
3) I found a fiver in my jeans the other day when I was doing the laundry. Although the fiver has now gone on essentials like Marie Claire magazine and Red bull, it was still a happy moment and one the that emphasised the importance of doing laundry instead of spraying deodorant and Koko Chanel perfume on your clothes.
I can spell dafty. That’s what the perfume’s called. Bought it from a guy on the tube who assured me that Chanel was about to change its brand name and I will be the first to experience the new line. Smells a little like petrol but at £3 a bottle, bring it on. All smokers’ stay a respectful 20 meters away from me at all times.
4) Snogger Dude realised the error of his ways and now stalks me with phone calls begging for me to come back to him. Hehehehehehehehe! Naturally I’m being mature about the whole thing and not rubbing in the fact that he had me and lost me. Yeah right! In yer face Snogger Dude. Next time you will not treat Mena so callously. I am unique you know? I guess I should tell him I ain’t ever coming back but then that’s just being cruel….to me. How am I supposed to have any fun if I don’t keep his dream alive? I’ll let him figure it out for himself.
5) I have found a new celebrity to stalk. My love for Tyrese is dead! Long Live Basket Mouth. Everyone says you’re ugly but I love your nappy hair and irregular features. I will be in Nigeria soon dearest and hopefully if my sister Getting Married Chick manages to pull her finger out you will be all paid for during my stay and I can do with you as I please. Oh Joy!
6) I like my ibi ise. They are always trying to feed me chocolate and other fattening confectionery but other than that they are all quite sweet. To the person that left the Bounty on my desk even after reading the huge “Do not feed the big black Administrator” sign. Pray I never find out who you are because if I do…. Lets just say the new and improved filing system I will create for you won’t be funny.
7) I'm single but at least I'm not with any of my ex boyfriends or ex would be suitors. Ran into one of them other day and between the jumpe jeans and the blind must see bling, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. To think I spent hours listening to Anita Baker records and crying myself into a stupor wishing he would call me ? Now I know why the say be careful what you wish for.
8)I have my family and friends. I love them. They love me. They are my reason for getting up in the morning. Hmmm. I’m saying the words, I’m hearing the words but I just ain’t feeling the words because I know sometime soon at least one of them will say, do or think of ways to make my life miserable. The joy I take in paying them back though knows no bounds.
At the moment Bunnylicious is top of my hit list for rude and offensive comments and not baking me a 3 tier cake with raspberry and cream cheese frosting. You might well wonder what I want to do with a 3-tier raspberry and cream cheese frosted cake, seeing as I’m on a diet. The answer to that is nothing. I’m just exercising my in-law authority by telling her to make stuff. Anyway she made one for Preggy Chick just because she’s got a bun in the oven. Like she didn’t have fun making the bun and then she gets cake as well? Na lie! Me too I must eat cake or at least use it to decorate my kitchen. Her hubby Just So Dude is in town and her bunny tail is wiggling non-stop. I’ll wait till he’s gone (must maintain the loving and caring in- law persona in front of him) and then I’ll take the wiggle out her tail. Hehehehehe!
Ijebu Chick is always rude and offensive anyway so I can’t really hold that against her but the other day she called my legs “Yammy”. Can you imagine? My own legs “Yammy”. This was even after I showed her my FGC Ogbomosho Miss Hot Legs 1985 Sash, crown and gold embossed certificate. Anyway, I say nothing. Admittedly I haven’t shaved my legs since the last time a shoe buckle got snagged in the hairs (what? It’s cold and I’m using my body hair to conserve heat) but even then she should have been able to see the outline of my nubile young limbs. I am extremely hurt and will require serious begging in the form fried stew and a cheque before I calm down. I was going to report her to her hubby for punishment but I have a funny feeling she would enjoy it.
Getting Married Chick, you just don’t want me to be happy abi? Its bad enough I’m starving myself just so the kids at your wedding don’t think I’m the bouncy castle but to then have you tell me that you might not use my beloved Basket Mouth at your wedding after all…. THAT IS JUST MEAN! It’s not like anybody at wedding needs to eat. Are you going to trade the happiness of your sister for jollof rice? I suggest you get your priorities straight and whip out your checkbook.
Ah! Shouting at people always makes me feel better. Now that I’ve shared my reasons for being happy I suggest you all get lost and leave me to do some work before someone shouts at me and Blogging becomes my number 1 reason for being unemployed.
I’m broke! Will you all come back here? Did I ask any of you for money that you’re running? If I said I was feeling generous and was giving out free cash you’d all be pushing each other over to get to me. Even you Preggy Chick nee SE Chick? Do you think I can’t see your mammoth stomach protruding from behind the sofa? You guys need to see this girl in her Preggy state. If I hadn’t seen her husband alive and well the other day I would have been under the assumption that she had eaten him. She is huge and waddles all over the place like a giant duck. But it’s only a few weeks to go now and I’ll have to think of something else to call her. Till then, Preggy Chick whip out your purse and lend me a tenner now. What’s always wrong with you sef? Its summer and I need to buy myself a pair of hot pants (Anyone that has anything to say about my choice of summer wear should meet me outside later).
Anyway I won’t let the fact that I’m broke or that you are all stingy so and so upset me. Nope! I’m feeling very positive this month. So much so I have decided to make a list of all the things I should be thankful for:
1) I’m alive! To those that owe me money, dislike big opinionated women and who I torment on a regular basis this might not be such good news. To all those not so happy about me being around, I wish you all scaly skin, rashes and killer pimples (Yes! I’m a Christian. What’s your point)?
2) I managed to get my bra unto the second hook today (round of applause please) and when I hold my breath and the light hits me from a certain angle, I can almost see a rib. Hmmm or maybe it was an imprint from that oh so tight sports bra? No! I will not depress myself. It was a rib.
3) I found a fiver in my jeans the other day when I was doing the laundry. Although the fiver has now gone on essentials like Marie Claire magazine and Red bull, it was still a happy moment and one the that emphasised the importance of doing laundry instead of spraying deodorant and Koko Chanel perfume on your clothes.
I can spell dafty. That’s what the perfume’s called. Bought it from a guy on the tube who assured me that Chanel was about to change its brand name and I will be the first to experience the new line. Smells a little like petrol but at £3 a bottle, bring it on. All smokers’ stay a respectful 20 meters away from me at all times.
4) Snogger Dude realised the error of his ways and now stalks me with phone calls begging for me to come back to him. Hehehehehehehehe! Naturally I’m being mature about the whole thing and not rubbing in the fact that he had me and lost me. Yeah right! In yer face Snogger Dude. Next time you will not treat Mena so callously. I am unique you know? I guess I should tell him I ain’t ever coming back but then that’s just being cruel….to me. How am I supposed to have any fun if I don’t keep his dream alive? I’ll let him figure it out for himself.
5) I have found a new celebrity to stalk. My love for Tyrese is dead! Long Live Basket Mouth. Everyone says you’re ugly but I love your nappy hair and irregular features. I will be in Nigeria soon dearest and hopefully if my sister Getting Married Chick manages to pull her finger out you will be all paid for during my stay and I can do with you as I please. Oh Joy!
6) I like my ibi ise. They are always trying to feed me chocolate and other fattening confectionery but other than that they are all quite sweet. To the person that left the Bounty on my desk even after reading the huge “Do not feed the big black Administrator” sign. Pray I never find out who you are because if I do…. Lets just say the new and improved filing system I will create for you won’t be funny.
7) I'm single but at least I'm not with any of my ex boyfriends or ex would be suitors. Ran into one of them other day and between the jumpe jeans and the blind must see bling, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. To think I spent hours listening to Anita Baker records and crying myself into a stupor wishing he would call me ? Now I know why the say be careful what you wish for.
8)I have my family and friends. I love them. They love me. They are my reason for getting up in the morning. Hmmm. I’m saying the words, I’m hearing the words but I just ain’t feeling the words because I know sometime soon at least one of them will say, do or think of ways to make my life miserable. The joy I take in paying them back though knows no bounds.
At the moment Bunnylicious is top of my hit list for rude and offensive comments and not baking me a 3 tier cake with raspberry and cream cheese frosting. You might well wonder what I want to do with a 3-tier raspberry and cream cheese frosted cake, seeing as I’m on a diet. The answer to that is nothing. I’m just exercising my in-law authority by telling her to make stuff. Anyway she made one for Preggy Chick just because she’s got a bun in the oven. Like she didn’t have fun making the bun and then she gets cake as well? Na lie! Me too I must eat cake or at least use it to decorate my kitchen. Her hubby Just So Dude is in town and her bunny tail is wiggling non-stop. I’ll wait till he’s gone (must maintain the loving and caring in- law persona in front of him) and then I’ll take the wiggle out her tail. Hehehehehe!
Ijebu Chick is always rude and offensive anyway so I can’t really hold that against her but the other day she called my legs “Yammy”. Can you imagine? My own legs “Yammy”. This was even after I showed her my FGC Ogbomosho Miss Hot Legs 1985 Sash, crown and gold embossed certificate. Anyway, I say nothing. Admittedly I haven’t shaved my legs since the last time a shoe buckle got snagged in the hairs (what? It’s cold and I’m using my body hair to conserve heat) but even then she should have been able to see the outline of my nubile young limbs. I am extremely hurt and will require serious begging in the form fried stew and a cheque before I calm down. I was going to report her to her hubby for punishment but I have a funny feeling she would enjoy it.
Getting Married Chick, you just don’t want me to be happy abi? Its bad enough I’m starving myself just so the kids at your wedding don’t think I’m the bouncy castle but to then have you tell me that you might not use my beloved Basket Mouth at your wedding after all…. THAT IS JUST MEAN! It’s not like anybody at wedding needs to eat. Are you going to trade the happiness of your sister for jollof rice? I suggest you get your priorities straight and whip out your checkbook.
Ah! Shouting at people always makes me feel better. Now that I’ve shared my reasons for being happy I suggest you all get lost and leave me to do some work before someone shouts at me and Blogging becomes my number 1 reason for being unemployed.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Time for a new me. Seriously! I mean it this time. Why are you on the floor laughing?
The other day as I was offered yet another piece of cake at my ibi ise, I glanced down at my Buddha belly and I decided enough was enough. It had to go. It was getting so big; chances were I would have to rent it its own apartment in the next couple of weeks. And seeing as I can hardly afford to pay for my non-ghetto mansion as it is, it was definately time to take action. You see, after years of procrastinating that I would assemble a capsule wardrobe so I could always look stylish, I’ve finally managed to do it by being too fat to fit into any of my clothes. I now have a capsule wardrobe of 3 shirts, I pair of trousers and a skirt. The only stuff left in my wardrobe that doesn’t cut off my circulation. Not bad you might say but that would be if the all actually matched. So I end up looking like Koko the clown at work every day. I know they all wanted to say something when I turned up in my fuchsia shirt and orange skirt combo but I think my branch wide memo about bullying and harassment in the work place put them off.
So I closed my eyes and said “No thank you” to that beautiful piece of Lemon cake with cream cheese frosting and raspberry filling (Oh God! What have I done? No please bring it back before the fatter cow from accounts eats it) and announced to the whole ibi ise to stop offering me yummy goodies. I WAS GOING ON A DIET!!!!! To which one of them waddles up to me and says “Diet? What do you need to diet for? You’re not fat. You look lovely”. God forgive me. I’m trying to be a better Christian/Normal person but the first thing that came into my head when she said that was “E no go better for you. You’re looking for a new roly-poly member to join your club abi? No be me you dey look for. Get thee behind me evil purveyor of calorie laden snacks”. I know their plan…they don’t want to pay me my pension abi. They just want to be deducting contributions from my already meagre salary and then kill me off with cakes before I can cash it in. They will not succeed.
Other than revolting against the perils of a food loving office, my sister "Thank God I’m engaged" nee "Hurry up and propose" Chick’s wedding is in December. I know…. she is so selfish. A loving sister would have waited till the invented a painless, totally free form of plastic surgery so I could at least have a fighting chance of looking decent in the wedding pictures and maybe nabbing a blokey.
Actually Niga would have been the perfect place to nab a blokey. What with them not being aware of my Police records for stalking and my multiple personalities, I could have nabbed myself a real finnneeee thing. But No…some people just couldn’t wait could they. Nope they just had to get married now cause they are in loveeeeeeeeeee. Yeah whatever! Real love could have waited till I found someone to buy my kidney so I could pay to get my tummy stapled. Now I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way …crap food and exercise. Thanks a lot sis…you’re a real star! But I’ll forgive you…only cause I have to with the whole Christain/Normal person thing I have going on.
Anyway you’re probably doing me a favour seeing as I’ve decided that I’ve been kidding myself trying to find a guy whilst I can’t even button up my jeans. I’ve always thought a guy would fall for the me inside and ignore the outside. I’m sure there are loads of guys out there that love big women but I think the majority of them are just guys that have issues paying for central heating and require a large woman to keep them warm when their portable fan heater breaks down in the winter. So I’ve decided to stop being a human heater and get my behind to the gym.
Ah the gym…my old friend. I give you my money and I usually end up not on a treadmill but on my sofa eating cake and telling myself I will go tomorrow or that the very act of paying money is a sign of commitment and God ultimately rewards commitment (as you can see I interpret my bible to suit my warped thoughts). Gyms love people like me. The story usually ends with me hiding behind my sofa as the Bailiffs pound on my door demanding money for unpaid membership fees. But not this time…I’ll show them and become pencil thin and people will have to beg me to put my clothes on as I parade around in me bikini all year long. Yes! even in the winter. So prepare yourselves people for the new me.
PS: This does not mean you are allowed to make comments or tackle me in the streets should you see me eating a Krispy Kreme donut. All such annoying people will thoroughly slapped, sat on and then slapped again for good measure.
So I closed my eyes and said “No thank you” to that beautiful piece of Lemon cake with cream cheese frosting and raspberry filling (Oh God! What have I done? No please bring it back before the fatter cow from accounts eats it) and announced to the whole ibi ise to stop offering me yummy goodies. I WAS GOING ON A DIET!!!!! To which one of them waddles up to me and says “Diet? What do you need to diet for? You’re not fat. You look lovely”. God forgive me. I’m trying to be a better Christian/Normal person but the first thing that came into my head when she said that was “E no go better for you. You’re looking for a new roly-poly member to join your club abi? No be me you dey look for. Get thee behind me evil purveyor of calorie laden snacks”. I know their plan…they don’t want to pay me my pension abi. They just want to be deducting contributions from my already meagre salary and then kill me off with cakes before I can cash it in. They will not succeed.
Other than revolting against the perils of a food loving office, my sister "Thank God I’m engaged" nee "Hurry up and propose" Chick’s wedding is in December. I know…. she is so selfish. A loving sister would have waited till the invented a painless, totally free form of plastic surgery so I could at least have a fighting chance of looking decent in the wedding pictures and maybe nabbing a blokey.
Actually Niga would have been the perfect place to nab a blokey. What with them not being aware of my Police records for stalking and my multiple personalities, I could have nabbed myself a real finnneeee thing. But No…some people just couldn’t wait could they. Nope they just had to get married now cause they are in loveeeeeeeeeee. Yeah whatever! Real love could have waited till I found someone to buy my kidney so I could pay to get my tummy stapled. Now I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way …crap food and exercise. Thanks a lot sis…you’re a real star! But I’ll forgive you…only cause I have to with the whole Christain/Normal person thing I have going on.
Anyway you’re probably doing me a favour seeing as I’ve decided that I’ve been kidding myself trying to find a guy whilst I can’t even button up my jeans. I’ve always thought a guy would fall for the me inside and ignore the outside. I’m sure there are loads of guys out there that love big women but I think the majority of them are just guys that have issues paying for central heating and require a large woman to keep them warm when their portable fan heater breaks down in the winter. So I’ve decided to stop being a human heater and get my behind to the gym.
Ah the gym…my old friend. I give you my money and I usually end up not on a treadmill but on my sofa eating cake and telling myself I will go tomorrow or that the very act of paying money is a sign of commitment and God ultimately rewards commitment (as you can see I interpret my bible to suit my warped thoughts). Gyms love people like me. The story usually ends with me hiding behind my sofa as the Bailiffs pound on my door demanding money for unpaid membership fees. But not this time…I’ll show them and become pencil thin and people will have to beg me to put my clothes on as I parade around in me bikini all year long. Yes! even in the winter. So prepare yourselves people for the new me.
PS: This does not mean you are allowed to make comments or tackle me in the streets should you see me eating a Krispy Kreme donut. All such annoying people will thoroughly slapped, sat on and then slapped again for good measure.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
New Year?! Where's the new me?
Happy New Year!
Sorry did you say something?
Oh it’s February and the New Year is over abi!
Tough!!!
Do I look like I am interested in your view on how my world should work?
I’m doing you lot a favour by turning up at all.
This year was supposed to be Blog free.
The plan was to get a raise or win the lottery (with my work ethic, winning the lottery is slightly more realistic) and then I wouldn’t need to discuss my constant traumas with non-medically qualified members of the public any longer. I was going to get myself a real therapist. Someone personally related to Freud (no quacks for me) with fancy letters after their names. They would have a couch and ask me deep and meaningful questions about my childhood and my oh so sensitive na… Bunny go go! Are you laughing over there? You want me to come over there and slap your tail off abi? Nonsense! Yeah where was I? Oh yeah! We would discuss my sensitive nature. I was going to deal with all my emotional and mental issues and become a well-rounded, independent woman about town. I would acquire an air of mystery and sophistication and stop hanging around clubs that have names like Peckham Rendezvous, drinking Supermalt with Ijebu Chick. Opps…sorry. I forgot you told your hubby you were going to the park to look for bush meat. By the way, you do know its illegal to kill anything in any of our Majesty, Queen Elizabeth's (all bow, curtsey please) parks abi? I’m just warning you because the day the catch you with your bow and arrow under your bubu I don’t think they will buy your story that you use it for personal protection.
But what can I say. Its 2007 and I’m single (lets not even discuss the prat I was swapping germs with just before the New Year).
Still not earning enough to buy my own little country and make myself supreme ruler (I would call it the Federal Republic of Menapolis and I would make everyone wear fat suits in honour of their great ruler. The only way to get a visa into my country would be to do a little dance routine for moi).
Still surrounded by loony tunes at home and in my working life.
I’m still a Telly tubby.
I’m starting to suspect Tyrese swings for the boys because I don’t know how any sane man can resist my many attributes.
But worst of all is, I am once again stuck with you guys. The things I’ll do for free therapy.
So what’s happened so far this year Mena you all ask?
Well lets see…Oh did I tell you Hurry up and propose chick has finally been proposed to?
Yep!
Despite the numerous anonymous letters sent to the groom telling him of her capacity to eat a whole cow under 10 minutes, fall asleep in the middle of a sentence and scatter her dead skin cells around like confetti, he still went ahead and asked the big question. It must be love. Either that or he can’t read. So till the wedding when she becomes Mrs. Market Boy she will henceforth be known as Engaged Chick. I am off to Niger in December to be bossed around by her and have my beautiful caramel complexion ruined by the blazing sun and mosquitoes. All of you try to keep this under wraps, as I don’t want my many Niger fans causing a riot at the airport on the day of my arrival. I am not sure what to get her as a wedding pressie but I think something personal and from the heart would be best. So I am currently working on a special dance/song routine for the reception. As soon as I find a way to get Customs to let me bring the 12 red bottomed baboons I’ll be using for the routine into the country, I’ll break the good news to her.
What else is going on???
Well I am about to embark on another crappy diet. No need Mena you all say. We love your voluptuous curves. Yeah that’s all well and good but I'm not sure my Manager is as loving of them. All my clothes are now so tight I spend every couple of minutes running to the loo to unhook my bra so I don't pass out from lack of oxygen. Something must be done. Not sure what yet but I'll start thinking about it right after I finish the cake in my fridge. Hey! Don't look at me like that. The Lord said waste not...
Moved out of the ghetto into the suburbs. It’s amazing. We have cool stuff like central heating. Sometimes I just switch it on and sit in front of the boiler watching the pilot light dance around in there. Who needs CSI when you've got that? Uhhhh and when you switch on the shower...don't tell anyone, but HOT WATER comes gushing out. My days of waking up at 5 in the morning to boil a kettle to have a bath are finally over. If I'd stayed in the Ghetto any longer my neighbours would have had me sectioned because I was planning to run out into the communal garden and have a shower whenever it rained just a get an extra hours sleep.
SE Chick has got a bun in the oven. I know! The filthy woman literally tied her hubby to the bed. The baby has already developed a healthy fear of me and refuses to move whenever I scream "Oi! Will you come on prostrate for your Aunty Mena" at his Mum's belly. Train them when they are young I say. By the time he's 18 months he'll be jumping off his high chair and prostrating whenever he hears me pressing the door bell.
Really not a lot has happened so far but I've still got 10 whole months left to get up to mischief, lose enough weight to make another person, acquire loads of dosh, nab a man and indulge in lots of activities without the fear of being struck by lighting and of course become the me that no longer requires you quacks.
Sorry did you say something?
Oh it’s February and the New Year is over abi!
Tough!!!
Do I look like I am interested in your view on how my world should work?
I’m doing you lot a favour by turning up at all.
This year was supposed to be Blog free.
The plan was to get a raise or win the lottery (with my work ethic, winning the lottery is slightly more realistic) and then I wouldn’t need to discuss my constant traumas with non-medically qualified members of the public any longer. I was going to get myself a real therapist. Someone personally related to Freud (no quacks for me) with fancy letters after their names. They would have a couch and ask me deep and meaningful questions about my childhood and my oh so sensitive na… Bunny go go! Are you laughing over there? You want me to come over there and slap your tail off abi? Nonsense! Yeah where was I? Oh yeah! We would discuss my sensitive nature. I was going to deal with all my emotional and mental issues and become a well-rounded, independent woman about town. I would acquire an air of mystery and sophistication and stop hanging around clubs that have names like Peckham Rendezvous, drinking Supermalt with Ijebu Chick. Opps…sorry. I forgot you told your hubby you were going to the park to look for bush meat. By the way, you do know its illegal to kill anything in any of our Majesty, Queen Elizabeth's (all bow, curtsey please) parks abi? I’m just warning you because the day the catch you with your bow and arrow under your bubu I don’t think they will buy your story that you use it for personal protection.
But what can I say. Its 2007 and I’m single (lets not even discuss the prat I was swapping germs with just before the New Year).
Still not earning enough to buy my own little country and make myself supreme ruler (I would call it the Federal Republic of Menapolis and I would make everyone wear fat suits in honour of their great ruler. The only way to get a visa into my country would be to do a little dance routine for moi).
Still surrounded by loony tunes at home and in my working life.
I’m still a Telly tubby.
I’m starting to suspect Tyrese swings for the boys because I don’t know how any sane man can resist my many attributes.
But worst of all is, I am once again stuck with you guys. The things I’ll do for free therapy.
So what’s happened so far this year Mena you all ask?
Well lets see…Oh did I tell you Hurry up and propose chick has finally been proposed to?
Yep!
Despite the numerous anonymous letters sent to the groom telling him of her capacity to eat a whole cow under 10 minutes, fall asleep in the middle of a sentence and scatter her dead skin cells around like confetti, he still went ahead and asked the big question. It must be love. Either that or he can’t read. So till the wedding when she becomes Mrs. Market Boy she will henceforth be known as Engaged Chick. I am off to Niger in December to be bossed around by her and have my beautiful caramel complexion ruined by the blazing sun and mosquitoes. All of you try to keep this under wraps, as I don’t want my many Niger fans causing a riot at the airport on the day of my arrival. I am not sure what to get her as a wedding pressie but I think something personal and from the heart would be best. So I am currently working on a special dance/song routine for the reception. As soon as I find a way to get Customs to let me bring the 12 red bottomed baboons I’ll be using for the routine into the country, I’ll break the good news to her.
What else is going on???
Well I am about to embark on another crappy diet. No need Mena you all say. We love your voluptuous curves. Yeah that’s all well and good but I'm not sure my Manager is as loving of them. All my clothes are now so tight I spend every couple of minutes running to the loo to unhook my bra so I don't pass out from lack of oxygen. Something must be done. Not sure what yet but I'll start thinking about it right after I finish the cake in my fridge. Hey! Don't look at me like that. The Lord said waste not...
Moved out of the ghetto into the suburbs. It’s amazing. We have cool stuff like central heating. Sometimes I just switch it on and sit in front of the boiler watching the pilot light dance around in there. Who needs CSI when you've got that? Uhhhh and when you switch on the shower...don't tell anyone, but HOT WATER comes gushing out. My days of waking up at 5 in the morning to boil a kettle to have a bath are finally over. If I'd stayed in the Ghetto any longer my neighbours would have had me sectioned because I was planning to run out into the communal garden and have a shower whenever it rained just a get an extra hours sleep.
SE Chick has got a bun in the oven. I know! The filthy woman literally tied her hubby to the bed. The baby has already developed a healthy fear of me and refuses to move whenever I scream "Oi! Will you come on prostrate for your Aunty Mena" at his Mum's belly. Train them when they are young I say. By the time he's 18 months he'll be jumping off his high chair and prostrating whenever he hears me pressing the door bell.
Really not a lot has happened so far but I've still got 10 whole months left to get up to mischief, lose enough weight to make another person, acquire loads of dosh, nab a man and indulge in lots of activities without the fear of being struck by lighting and of course become the me that no longer requires you quacks.
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