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.

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.