Posts
See me see trouble o. Oyinbo no gree leave me alone.
Damn my Nubian hotness and awesome personality. Why must everyone want me?
Er...not sure everyone does.
Shut up! I dey ask u? Nonsense.
Let me get on with my story jare...
After he broke the news yesterday that he was an equal opportunity employer…All races, genders and religions welcome. I explained to him as best as I could that I respected his outlook on life but would be a tad uncomfortable embracing that way of life myself. So thanks, but no thanks to the “Get to know each other better” offer.
He accused me of being close minded…
“You need to embrace life and stop following the herd”
Baaaaahhhh…meet Mena the Sheep. Leave me to follow my heterosexual herd. I will have enough trouble preventing my man from looking at other women and you now want to throw men into the mix as well? O se gan but I would have to blind you and keep you in a cave to have any peace of mind. Not sure either of us would enjoy that much, so lets just let this be.
“Look Oyinbo Guy, you’re entitled to your opinion and I’m entitled to mine. As a person it just doesn’t fit in with my belief system. It doesn’t mean I’m right or wrong. It just means we’ve chosen to walk different paths. We can be mates”
“I’m attracted to you, so that might be hard”
Ah! Who isn’t? But you’ll be fine. The pain fades with time.
“Is this a religion thing? Cause I know you Africans tend to take your religious beliefs quite seriously?” He says.
Yep! Darn right we take it seriously. We believe in a power higher than Microsoft and Santa Claus.
“Personally I think religion is just another way for the people in charge to control us. I was brought up a catholic but I renounced all religion a couple of years ago.”
I beg Mena, dress back small.
“You renounced all religion?”
Mennnnaa! Stop talking and dress back.
“Yep! I’m an atheist and happier for it.”
WILL YOU COME ON MOVE YOUR CHAIR BACK NOW BEFORE THE LIGHTENING THAT THE GOOD LORD SENDS TO TURN HIS ASS TO DUST,TAKES YOU OUT TOO!!!!!
I’m with you on this one Brain. Removing myself from his vicinity now.
“Oh gee! Is that the time? I really have to get home. Early meeting tomorrow.” I say doing the ol' yawn and stretch routine.
“Really? I was hoping we could have some dinner and maybe talk some more.”
It's alright. No more talking is necessary. Could have pretended I misunderstood the fact that you like a little Johnson/Happy stick every now and then. Could even have convinced myself that after one night with Mena you’ll be all "Hetero", all the time(Yes! I am that good. If they gave awards I'd have no more room on my dresser). But this not believing in anything issue don pass me. If I end up with you I know the next step will be wife swapping and wearing PVC to worship goblins in the woods. Forget Red cab. This situation calls for a speedy get away…Yellow Cab or Okada will do.
“ I’m sorry. Sure we can catch up at the office tomorrow.” I say as I get up to leave.
"I hope I haven’t offended you?"
Offended me ke? Forget me mate. It's not me you should be worried about.You might not want to die until you repent sha.
“Not at all. Just not very good with my drink. Need to sleep it off. Bye!"
So long you very hot but very weird man.
Phew! Safely back in my Jesus loving house.
I take a long hot shower and by the time I come out, I have 3 missed calls, 2 texts and a BB, all from him.
Was actually worried something was wrong and so BB’d back.
Mena: Hi is everything OK?
Oyinbo Guy: Yeah! Just in bed and wanted to hear your voice. You know you have a very sexy voice don’t you?”
See this cheap ass man. He wants to use me to get his kicks before bedtime. He better dial an 0800 number and stop disturbing me. Seeing as his chat wasn’t business related I terminate the convo and switch off my phone. I’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.
I switch on my phone in the morning and in come the texts and BB messages. Oh Lord! What have I done? If it was just a regular guy I could just kick him to the kerb. But he’s a client so my tactics need to be a tad different. He leaves this evening so all I have to do is get through today. I consider calling in sick but they probably wouldn’t buy it. I’ll just have to go in and clean up my mess.
I walk into the office and guess who is perched on the edge of my desk waiting for me? My entire department is present and I’m so not looking forward to a show down in front of them
"Hi! I’ve been trying to reach you." he says accusingly
What's his point? My own mother has been trying to reach me for the past 2 days to discuss the huge availability of single men in Ilorin but ain't answering her so what makes you so special? I beg let me hear word.
"Really? Must be the network."
"Everything OK? You look a little tired. I guess I shouldn’t have kept you up so late last night?" He says giggling like a school boy.
“I was hoping I could take you out to lunch later. You know, give us a chance to continue where we left off?”
See this Were! He just had to open his big mouth? And whats with the giggling and innuendo? He’s just making the whole thing sound sordid. Like something happened. I can just imagine what the rest of the room is thinking.
On hearing "Last night" and "Keeping you up", the whole department goes quiet.
Ladies Man is looking at me and nodding his head like “Now I see. No wonder I wasn’t getting anywhere with you. You only like white meat.”
Bad Weave Chick is muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “Ashaaawo London.”
Even Grumpy is staring at me with his mouth open. He finally closes it, walks up to us and says
“Miss Mena, can I have a word please?”
Great! So never mixing business with pleasure again.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The Client is always right??
I’m in the office playing mind games on Rat Boy.
Ah ah! You never forgive this boy Mena?
Please o! No one should come and change my parade(Lynxxx management! Pay me for the subtly placed marketing of your song). I don’t come over to your office to tell you how to deal with your pain in the backside work colleagues, now do I?
No. But….
En hen. No need to continue. Leave me in peace to get my kicks where I can.
As I was saying, I have realized that if you put too many big words in a sentence when you’re talking to him, his brain kind of short circuits. You can just see the little hamster he’s got up there is peddling for dear life, trying to get a grasp of what you are saying.
I just said to him...
“Please can you dispensate with all the irrelevant data on your report and focus on giving a more concise overview of the current financial infrastructure of the bank in relation to our proposed business solution?”
His response to that being
"Ogini?"
If I was in a good mood with him I would just have said
“This report is too long. Keep it simple. Just need to know if the client can afford us.”
In a very, very good mood I would simply have said
“Oga, I beg! Who you wan kill with story? Your bank get money to buy or make we waka?”
Alas! I am no way in a good mood. I'm hung over, pissed off and I feel dirty.
Dirty?
I had a dream about Ladies Man. He was in my bedroom, naked and there was smooching involved(Yuck…pass the sick bucket).
Na lie! Has it reached that stage Mena? We need to find you a man fast.
Luckily, I refrained from any further dodgy activities when I realized my “Tiny Willy” radar had not deceived me in real life. If Ladies Man was rich there would be a whole lot of big, fast cars in his life to compensate for mother nature's stinginess in that department. Probably why he's always adjusting his trousers...making sure what little he's got is still there.
Anyway, less time dissing, more time looking for relevant bible verses to deflect any dream world marriages or getting busy sessions. My mother must not hear of this or I’ll be up some mountain in Kwara State for 40 days and nights, eating grass in order to deflect the evil forces.
I’m keeping an eye on him today to make sure he doesn’t have a self-satisfied grin on his face. Nope! He looks pretty stressed by work and has barely spoken all day. He’s either innocent of trying to dream lampash me or he’s depressed by the fact that I now know he’s not all man, like he pretends to be.
Anyway this is probably a sign from God on who I’m going to end up with if I don’t stop sinning by lusting after inappropriate “I am entitled to marry more than 1 wife” hotties. But its not my fault Lord. They just wont leave me alone. Everywhere I go there is always some “No go” guy trying to hit on me. Take yesterday for instance.
Grumpy came to my desk the other day and told me we had a client from Madrid coming over to meet some of our business partners and it had been decided that I should take charge of the activities during his stay.
What blinking activities? I’m exhausted from all my local jet setting and now they want me to play nursemaid to some pot bellied Spanish man? Doesn’t anyone else get nominated to do anything in this office??
But imagine my surprise when, come yesterday morning, in walks the hottest, fittest, tallest, dreamiest hunk of Oyinboness I have ever seen. Ask anyone that knows me, I’m not usually into oyinbo guys. Nothing personal , just never met one that rocked my boat. But this Adonis was different. Turns out he’s actually British but works from the firms Madrid office. So we had a lot in common. The conversation flowed. Lots of laughing and arm touching. By closing time he was asking if I wanted to go out for a drink?
Why the hell not? I think. I like him. He likes me. It's just a little drink
With a client?!
Clients need love too.
I pirry u.
Pirry away razzo. How do you know it's not my destiny to be Mrs.Oyinbo and move my fine, sophisticated self to Madrid? En? Enemy of progress.
So at the hotel bar…
Na even HOTEL bar you go? No other bar near your office where you don’t have a bed within tripping distance abi?
You are so untrusting. Like I’m going to sleep with him after just one drink. It would require at least 2 for me to lose all my inhibitions.
Na u dey invent AA for … Alcoholic Ashawo
You’re just jealous. I beg leave me to drink my 'Sex on the beach" in peace
You are even ordering suggestive cocktails? Well done. You will explain yourself at the office tomorrow.
Several cocktails later (Drowning my sorrows over our eviction from the World Cup), we get on to the topic of relationships. He tells me he split from his partner a couple of months ago and he felt he was ready for a new relationship.
Kerching! I think Mena has finally hit the jackpot.
"Really? That’s interesting."
"I was wondering what you feel about maybe getting to know each other better?"
"I’d like that."
I wonder, should I go for Ellie Saab or Valentino for the wedding dress?
"The distance won’t be too much of an issue will it? Gary, my ex couldn’t stand being apart for so long. Probably part of the reason why we broke up."
Nah! I think Ellie would work better with my….back up. Gary…nope cant think of any girl names that can be shortened to Gary.
“Gary? Isn't that a guys name?”
“Oh yeah! “
Look at your mouth like "Oh yeah!" Will you come on explain yourself before I have to use my "Sex on the beach" as a weapon
"Oh! I'm a little confused."
He laughs and I slowly begin to remove my shoe. A couple of hard whacks on the head should put a stop to his inane giggling and get me an explanation.
"Sorry. I should have explained. I don’t believe in the conventional relationship set up that’s been shoved down our throats for centuries. I think if you like someone…male or female, you should just go with your feelings and see where it takes you."
Huh?
"I guess if you wanted to put a label on me, I’m what you would call bisexual."
Huh?
"Wow listen to that thunder! It's really gonna rain tonight."
That’s not rain. That’s the Lord coming to smite me for never listening to that little voice in my head that's always yelling "Mena don't do it!"
How do I get myself into these situations?
Married and didn't know...I handled it.
Not same religion...I handled it.
I like boys AND girls...There's not enough prayer and fasting in the world to handle this. Its time to call a red cab.
Ah ah! You never forgive this boy Mena?
Please o! No one should come and change my parade(Lynxxx management! Pay me for the subtly placed marketing of your song). I don’t come over to your office to tell you how to deal with your pain in the backside work colleagues, now do I?
No. But….
En hen. No need to continue. Leave me in peace to get my kicks where I can.
As I was saying, I have realized that if you put too many big words in a sentence when you’re talking to him, his brain kind of short circuits. You can just see the little hamster he’s got up there is peddling for dear life, trying to get a grasp of what you are saying.
I just said to him...
“Please can you dispensate with all the irrelevant data on your report and focus on giving a more concise overview of the current financial infrastructure of the bank in relation to our proposed business solution?”
His response to that being
"Ogini?"
If I was in a good mood with him I would just have said
“This report is too long. Keep it simple. Just need to know if the client can afford us.”
In a very, very good mood I would simply have said
“Oga, I beg! Who you wan kill with story? Your bank get money to buy or make we waka?”
Alas! I am no way in a good mood. I'm hung over, pissed off and I feel dirty.
Dirty?
I had a dream about Ladies Man. He was in my bedroom, naked and there was smooching involved(Yuck…pass the sick bucket).
Na lie! Has it reached that stage Mena? We need to find you a man fast.
Luckily, I refrained from any further dodgy activities when I realized my “Tiny Willy” radar had not deceived me in real life. If Ladies Man was rich there would be a whole lot of big, fast cars in his life to compensate for mother nature's stinginess in that department. Probably why he's always adjusting his trousers...making sure what little he's got is still there.
Anyway, less time dissing, more time looking for relevant bible verses to deflect any dream world marriages or getting busy sessions. My mother must not hear of this or I’ll be up some mountain in Kwara State for 40 days and nights, eating grass in order to deflect the evil forces.
I’m keeping an eye on him today to make sure he doesn’t have a self-satisfied grin on his face. Nope! He looks pretty stressed by work and has barely spoken all day. He’s either innocent of trying to dream lampash me or he’s depressed by the fact that I now know he’s not all man, like he pretends to be.
Anyway this is probably a sign from God on who I’m going to end up with if I don’t stop sinning by lusting after inappropriate “I am entitled to marry more than 1 wife” hotties. But its not my fault Lord. They just wont leave me alone. Everywhere I go there is always some “No go” guy trying to hit on me. Take yesterday for instance.
Grumpy came to my desk the other day and told me we had a client from Madrid coming over to meet some of our business partners and it had been decided that I should take charge of the activities during his stay.
What blinking activities? I’m exhausted from all my local jet setting and now they want me to play nursemaid to some pot bellied Spanish man? Doesn’t anyone else get nominated to do anything in this office??
But imagine my surprise when, come yesterday morning, in walks the hottest, fittest, tallest, dreamiest hunk of Oyinboness I have ever seen. Ask anyone that knows me, I’m not usually into oyinbo guys. Nothing personal , just never met one that rocked my boat. But this Adonis was different. Turns out he’s actually British but works from the firms Madrid office. So we had a lot in common. The conversation flowed. Lots of laughing and arm touching. By closing time he was asking if I wanted to go out for a drink?
Why the hell not? I think. I like him. He likes me. It's just a little drink
With a client?!
Clients need love too.
I pirry u.
Pirry away razzo. How do you know it's not my destiny to be Mrs.Oyinbo and move my fine, sophisticated self to Madrid? En? Enemy of progress.
So at the hotel bar…
Na even HOTEL bar you go? No other bar near your office where you don’t have a bed within tripping distance abi?
You are so untrusting. Like I’m going to sleep with him after just one drink. It would require at least 2 for me to lose all my inhibitions.
Na u dey invent AA for … Alcoholic Ashawo
You’re just jealous. I beg leave me to drink my 'Sex on the beach" in peace
You are even ordering suggestive cocktails? Well done. You will explain yourself at the office tomorrow.
Several cocktails later (Drowning my sorrows over our eviction from the World Cup), we get on to the topic of relationships. He tells me he split from his partner a couple of months ago and he felt he was ready for a new relationship.
Kerching! I think Mena has finally hit the jackpot.
"Really? That’s interesting."
"I was wondering what you feel about maybe getting to know each other better?"
"I’d like that."
I wonder, should I go for Ellie Saab or Valentino for the wedding dress?
"The distance won’t be too much of an issue will it? Gary, my ex couldn’t stand being apart for so long. Probably part of the reason why we broke up."
Nah! I think Ellie would work better with my….back up. Gary…nope cant think of any girl names that can be shortened to Gary.
“Gary? Isn't that a guys name?”
“Oh yeah! “
Look at your mouth like "Oh yeah!" Will you come on explain yourself before I have to use my "Sex on the beach" as a weapon
"Oh! I'm a little confused."
He laughs and I slowly begin to remove my shoe. A couple of hard whacks on the head should put a stop to his inane giggling and get me an explanation.
"Sorry. I should have explained. I don’t believe in the conventional relationship set up that’s been shoved down our throats for centuries. I think if you like someone…male or female, you should just go with your feelings and see where it takes you."
Huh?
"I guess if you wanted to put a label on me, I’m what you would call bisexual."
Huh?
"Wow listen to that thunder! It's really gonna rain tonight."
That’s not rain. That’s the Lord coming to smite me for never listening to that little voice in my head that's always yelling "Mena don't do it!"
How do I get myself into these situations?
Married and didn't know...I handled it.
Not same religion...I handled it.
I like boys AND girls...There's not enough prayer and fasting in the world to handle this. Its time to call a red cab.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
I'm Jonesing for a night out.
I’m going out tonight
I’m gonna look so fine
I’m gonna catch a man
And then I’ll make him mine
But if he doesn’t gree then I will have to say
'Ori e Fokasibe, Fokasibe ,Fokasibe
La la la
La la la la …
Stop gyrating around the photocopy machine crazy woman. People are starting to look at us.
Whatever Brain. Let em look.
In a good mood today and I don’t care who knows. Anyway Ladies Man seems to be enjoying my hip swinging actions. He been staring at me and adjusting his tie for the past 3 minutes now. Poor things going to choke himself with it if he’s not careful.
Finally! I get to go somewhere other than the Palms and Pack & Shop( I go to the latter to watch DSTV for free in the electronics department when I forget to pay my bill) for entertainment. Can’t wait. Already have my sessy lil number planned and I even came to work make up free to ensure that my skin is extra radiant tonight seeing as its had all day to breathe.
All the “Mena, person die?" Or "Are you sick?” queries from the office crazies will be well worth it when I look extra hot tonight. Just in case you were wondering, which I know you are seeing as your middle name is gbeborun, I’m off to see Keziah Jones at Terrakulture tonight. An evening with like minded, stylish people, listening to some bad ass music. Bliss!
Now please. Don’t you all buy tickets hoping to run into me. Tonight’s about Keziah not Mena. But if you insist that you must spend your N5,000 then just e-mail me when you get to the car park and I will happily come out to collect your money for a 1 minute adoring stare at my person. No cheques slackers! Cashola only please.
I’m even more excited because I didn’t have to buy my own ticket(nothing like free entertainment to make a girl happy). It was all courtesy of Annoying Married Chick and her hubby Market Boy(Who has requested that I call him something cool. Not sure that’s gonna be possible but I’m taking suggestions). Before you all start ohhing and ahhing about how sweet they are, it’s their punishment for getting me in trouble with my Mum and ruining my weekend.
Was sitting at home organizing my shoes by designer and heel height (it’s not a sad thing to do!), when they turned up under the guise of coming to visit. I know they were just hungry and looking for food as usual but I played along with their charade by abandoning my shoes and joining them and mother downstairs. Anyway it’s kinda good they are here. I can get them to look over my date outfit. Make sure my "Mena" style won’t be too much for the poor fella. Just have to wait till mother gets bored with us and leaves for her weekend visiting marathon.
God forbid she should hear the word date and my name mentioned anywhere in this house. Any plans I might have of actually having any fun tomorrow will be over. She will insist on being involved in everything from make up to good night kiss techniques.
I send my sis a bb...
Mena: You guys don’t leave with Mum. Got a date and need u to check out my outfit. DON’T SAY ANYTHING UNTIL MUM IS OUT OF THE GATE.
Annoying Married Chick: U have a date?????
Why is this surprising to her? Something do me? Abi? Why I no fit get date?
Mena: Yes. Problem missy?
Annoying Married Chick: Shouldn’t u have plucked your eyebrows then?
Eyebrows? What’s she talking about? They are perfect. Doesn’t she know bushy is in? Style reject.
Phew! Mums leaving... Cool.
I run to the window and watch her get into the car. Come on Tony, get her out of here.
Annoying Married Chick starts to say something but I shush her.
Yes! They are finally moving.
Gates opening…
Annoying Married Chick tries to start talking again and I tell her to shut it. Doesn’t she understand that nothing must be said until the “One who cannot be disobeyed” is totally off the premises. Almost there…
"Are you crazy? Stop shushing me. Are you going to tell me about this blinkin' date of yours or not?"
"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!"
OK! Don’t panic. The cars practically out of the gate, there’s no way in hell she heard that.
Hehe...You wrong Kwezy Lady.
Sure enough... I am. The car comes to a screeching halt, reverses back in, whilst doing a 3 point Starsky and Hutch style turn and deposits my mother back at the main entrance. She’s already getting out of the car before it even stops and is legging it back into the building. Yep! That ol' lady sure can run.
She bursts into the living room out of breath and eyes me and my sister
"Who…"
Pant, gasp…
"...Has…"
Wheezing…
"...A date?"
My sister and I look at each other and I know what she’s thinking because it’s the same thing I’m thinking.
HOW THE HELL DOES SHE DO THAT? Was she blessed with supersonic hearing or does she have the house bugged? Nothing ever remains a secret from my mother.
"Answer me jare before I remove my slippers. Who has a date?"
“I’m married mummy. It can’t be me. Speaking of which, Market Boy remember that thing we have to do at the thing? Think it's time to go.”
“Ok, it can’t be you. You’re married” she says disregarding my sister, as she and Market Boy leg it out of there, and focusing her attention on me.
Thanks a lot Annoying Married Chick. You go meet me for front.
“Its you abi Mena?”
No duh?! Got any other daughters in Nigeria I should know about?
“You have a date and you didn’t tell me?”
Needless to say it all went down hill from there. She dragged me round beauty parlors all day. Making me wax things that should never be waxed(Ouch). Insisting my hair wasn’t fluffy enough and my eyebrows weren’t thin enough until I looked like Zsa Zsa Gabor on crack. By the time she was done with me I don’t think even Stevie Wonder would agree to date me let alone someone with all 5 senses working at optimum level. And don’t even get me started on the prayer and fasting regime she’s got me on when the whole thing fell through. If I never see another piece of white food again it will be too soon.
So really, the ticket from Annoying Married Chick is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to making it up to me.
I’m gonna look so fine
I’m gonna catch a man
And then I’ll make him mine
But if he doesn’t gree then I will have to say
'Ori e Fokasibe, Fokasibe ,Fokasibe
La la la
La la la la …
Stop gyrating around the photocopy machine crazy woman. People are starting to look at us.
Whatever Brain. Let em look.
In a good mood today and I don’t care who knows. Anyway Ladies Man seems to be enjoying my hip swinging actions. He been staring at me and adjusting his tie for the past 3 minutes now. Poor things going to choke himself with it if he’s not careful.
Finally! I get to go somewhere other than the Palms and Pack & Shop( I go to the latter to watch DSTV for free in the electronics department when I forget to pay my bill) for entertainment. Can’t wait. Already have my sessy lil number planned and I even came to work make up free to ensure that my skin is extra radiant tonight seeing as its had all day to breathe.
All the “Mena, person die?" Or "Are you sick?” queries from the office crazies will be well worth it when I look extra hot tonight. Just in case you were wondering, which I know you are seeing as your middle name is gbeborun, I’m off to see Keziah Jones at Terrakulture tonight. An evening with like minded, stylish people, listening to some bad ass music. Bliss!
Now please. Don’t you all buy tickets hoping to run into me. Tonight’s about Keziah not Mena. But if you insist that you must spend your N5,000 then just e-mail me when you get to the car park and I will happily come out to collect your money for a 1 minute adoring stare at my person. No cheques slackers! Cashola only please.
I’m even more excited because I didn’t have to buy my own ticket(nothing like free entertainment to make a girl happy). It was all courtesy of Annoying Married Chick and her hubby Market Boy(Who has requested that I call him something cool. Not sure that’s gonna be possible but I’m taking suggestions). Before you all start ohhing and ahhing about how sweet they are, it’s their punishment for getting me in trouble with my Mum and ruining my weekend.
Was sitting at home organizing my shoes by designer and heel height (it’s not a sad thing to do!), when they turned up under the guise of coming to visit. I know they were just hungry and looking for food as usual but I played along with their charade by abandoning my shoes and joining them and mother downstairs. Anyway it’s kinda good they are here. I can get them to look over my date outfit. Make sure my "Mena" style won’t be too much for the poor fella. Just have to wait till mother gets bored with us and leaves for her weekend visiting marathon.
God forbid she should hear the word date and my name mentioned anywhere in this house. Any plans I might have of actually having any fun tomorrow will be over. She will insist on being involved in everything from make up to good night kiss techniques.
I send my sis a bb...
Mena: You guys don’t leave with Mum. Got a date and need u to check out my outfit. DON’T SAY ANYTHING UNTIL MUM IS OUT OF THE GATE.
Annoying Married Chick: U have a date?????
Why is this surprising to her? Something do me? Abi? Why I no fit get date?
Mena: Yes. Problem missy?
Annoying Married Chick: Shouldn’t u have plucked your eyebrows then?
Eyebrows? What’s she talking about? They are perfect. Doesn’t she know bushy is in? Style reject.
Phew! Mums leaving... Cool.
I run to the window and watch her get into the car. Come on Tony, get her out of here.
Annoying Married Chick starts to say something but I shush her.
Yes! They are finally moving.
Gates opening…
Annoying Married Chick tries to start talking again and I tell her to shut it. Doesn’t she understand that nothing must be said until the “One who cannot be disobeyed” is totally off the premises. Almost there…
"Are you crazy? Stop shushing me. Are you going to tell me about this blinkin' date of yours or not?"
"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!"
OK! Don’t panic. The cars practically out of the gate, there’s no way in hell she heard that.
Hehe...You wrong Kwezy Lady.
Sure enough... I am. The car comes to a screeching halt, reverses back in, whilst doing a 3 point Starsky and Hutch style turn and deposits my mother back at the main entrance. She’s already getting out of the car before it even stops and is legging it back into the building. Yep! That ol' lady sure can run.
She bursts into the living room out of breath and eyes me and my sister
"Who…"
Pant, gasp…
"...Has…"
Wheezing…
"...A date?"
My sister and I look at each other and I know what she’s thinking because it’s the same thing I’m thinking.
HOW THE HELL DOES SHE DO THAT? Was she blessed with supersonic hearing or does she have the house bugged? Nothing ever remains a secret from my mother.
"Answer me jare before I remove my slippers. Who has a date?"
“I’m married mummy. It can’t be me. Speaking of which, Market Boy remember that thing we have to do at the thing? Think it's time to go.”
“Ok, it can’t be you. You’re married” she says disregarding my sister, as she and Market Boy leg it out of there, and focusing her attention on me.
Thanks a lot Annoying Married Chick. You go meet me for front.
“Its you abi Mena?”
No duh?! Got any other daughters in Nigeria I should know about?
“You have a date and you didn’t tell me?”
Needless to say it all went down hill from there. She dragged me round beauty parlors all day. Making me wax things that should never be waxed(Ouch). Insisting my hair wasn’t fluffy enough and my eyebrows weren’t thin enough until I looked like Zsa Zsa Gabor on crack. By the time she was done with me I don’t think even Stevie Wonder would agree to date me let alone someone with all 5 senses working at optimum level. And don’t even get me started on the prayer and fasting regime she’s got me on when the whole thing fell through. If I never see another piece of white food again it will be too soon.
So really, the ticket from Annoying Married Chick is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to making it up to me.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Hey! Whats with all the zeros?
Gosh... I’m actually glad to be back at work amongst the office crazies. I have learnt to appreciate their madness after my humbling experience in the Gambia. Luckily Grumpy doesn’t seem to have told anyone about my Janet Jackson style wardrobe malfunction. Guess he’s still high on being the man of the hour after Bank Manager signed on the dotted line. Like he could have done it without my amazing presentation skills. User! Anyway let me not talk too much before I find topless pictures of myself on the bulletin board. I shall be on my best behavior till assessment time and then I can relax into my old ways again.
Darn! I just broke a nail trying to crack open a pistachio. What is it with me and nuts this month? Are they on a mission to ruin me? Sod that! Me hungry and I’m eating these damn nuts. They cost me N3,549 Naira. Yes I know the exact price o. That’s the equivalent of 12 odd pounds and I ain't happy. The old Mena would have slapped the sales assistant for daring to utter such numbers around the vicinity of a 500g packet of nuts. But the new Lagos Big girl in training has learnt to assess the situation around her before taking action. Had I been alone on the queue to pay I would have said
“3500 fun ki ni? No be epa? “
“But they are imported ma”
“Don’t let the broken English fool you honey. Me too I dey imported as you see me so.”
“Sorry Ma, but its expensive to fly these things in.”
“No vex. I didn’t realize this particular bag of pistachios had their own seat in first-class. I beg take your thing jare. Barawo Banza’s !”
And I would go outside and look for the nearest groundnut seller.
But if there are people on the queue behind me; I simply put on my Karl Lagerfeld sunnies so the sales assistant and other customers wont see the tears as I hand over my card and pray GT Bank won't disgrace me by refusing my transaction. Yes people! I am learning. I no longer haggle with them at the Davina store at the Palms after the threatened to name and shame me over the public announcement system. I have decided to pretend I have it even when I don’t.
Like the other day when I supposedly had a date with Speedy Gonzale's BB Guy. Fine, maybe she was right about the whole quirky car = quirky guy scenario. He’s been interesting bb wise so far and he makes me laugh (You all know how I am with a guy that can make me giggle). Seen a picture and yes I would happily have his love child. Only problem is I have no idea what he sounds like. In this day and age of bbing it’s neigh on impossible to get someone to give you a call.
Like the art of letter writing was lost to the e-mail, the act of picking up the phone just to hear the sound of someone’s voice is slowly disappearing. I haven’t quiet got the hang of it yet though. I still yack away on the phone for ages and its costing me a fortune. I only realized how bad it was when the Mallam that sells phone cards next to my house brought his whole family to greet me the other day
“Chidden gweet madam. Na because of her you go go school this month.”
“Hooray for Madam. May you always have people to talk to”
The kids gave me 3 cheers and danced around me in a merry circle. All very touching but not sure I want anyone’s educational future to be dependant on my in ability to shut up for 5 seconds.
Anyway, never spoken to him. Have no idea if he can even speak English. You know how some people can write really well but when they actually speak you have to duck for cover because the taboning is like machine gun fire? Worse, he could be all manly looking. Muscles rippling as he walks and then he opens his mouth and you start looking around for Alvin and the Chipmunks. Fingers crossed he’ll be perfect. A Barry White sound alike with an absolute command of the English language. But what to wear for this hook up?
My stress, peanut and diet coke diet is working a lot better than I expected and none of my clothes fit anymore. Need me a new pair of jeans. So head to the mall and nip into one of the little boutiques to try on a couple. Finally settle on a pair that make my bum look like a peach and my legs like they go on forever. I’m soooooooooo cute. I can’t find a price tag on them anywhere but I recognize the store label and they ain’t exactly up market. So not worried about breaking the bank. I skip to the till all excited and hand them over to the sales assistant.
The store is busy and as she scans my item, I slowly start to hyperventilate. Hey! whats with all the zero's? Is that the item serial number on the till display because it sure as bloody hell can't be the price? So many numbers. How is that bloody possible? They’re high street jeans for crying out loud. I consider ignoring the sales assistants query about if I was paying by cash or card and running out of there as fast as my chubby little legs would carry me but I’m surrounded by snobby cows. I recognize one of the "Look my bag before you look me" girls from one of my accounts . We both like to oppress each other by slamming whatever designer bag we're carrying that day on the conference table whenever we have a meeting. She's one of those annoying people that knows everybody, so God forbid I'll allow her to start spreading the goss that Mena can’t afford jeans. What to do?
I guess I’ll just have to bite the bullet and hand over my card. This date better be worth it. I’m so snogging him weather he likes it or not. Even if it means getting the MOPO's to hold him down whilst I plant several hot smooches on him.
Er.. Isnt that sexual assualt?
So? Who does he want to tell that story too? Your friendly neighbourhood policeman?
"Boo hoo! Oh Officer I've just been violated by a hot woman. She was kissing me all over...Sob. It was just awful. I feel so dirty and used."
I beg! He'll probably get the crap kicked out of him for not dragging me into the bedroom by my hair and having his wicked way with me. Furthermore, there better be some butt groping involved as well cause I ain’t paying my entire going out budget for the month on ass enhancing jeans and not get my ass complimented and groped dammit!
Just as she’s about to swipe my card through and bankrupt me, a miracle happens. The machine starts to make a funny sound.
“I’m sorry madam but our card system has crashed again. Its been doing it all morning.”
Lord, I thank you. Please disregard all previous comments on snogging and ass groping out of wedlock. It was the devil.
“That’s a shame and I really wanted these jeans.”
You are still standing there posing for Shop Assistant Mena? Instead of you to run before the system decides to restart. I pirry you.
“I can hold it for you madam if you want to go and get cash from the ATM?”
“Yes please. I’ll be right back.”
Whatever suckers. Mena’s going home to look for an Obioma to take in her Baba Aluwe looking jeans for N200. Nonsense.
Anyway it’s a good thing I never did buy those jeans because if I had I would now be looking for some Area boys to go and beat my money out BB boy’s body for not turning up. So gonna kick his arse when I eventually see him and his little quirky mini.
Darn! I just broke a nail trying to crack open a pistachio. What is it with me and nuts this month? Are they on a mission to ruin me? Sod that! Me hungry and I’m eating these damn nuts. They cost me N3,549 Naira. Yes I know the exact price o. That’s the equivalent of 12 odd pounds and I ain't happy. The old Mena would have slapped the sales assistant for daring to utter such numbers around the vicinity of a 500g packet of nuts. But the new Lagos Big girl in training has learnt to assess the situation around her before taking action. Had I been alone on the queue to pay I would have said
“3500 fun ki ni? No be epa? “
“But they are imported ma”
“Don’t let the broken English fool you honey. Me too I dey imported as you see me so.”
“Sorry Ma, but its expensive to fly these things in.”
“No vex. I didn’t realize this particular bag of pistachios had their own seat in first-class. I beg take your thing jare. Barawo Banza’s !”
And I would go outside and look for the nearest groundnut seller.
But if there are people on the queue behind me; I simply put on my Karl Lagerfeld sunnies so the sales assistant and other customers wont see the tears as I hand over my card and pray GT Bank won't disgrace me by refusing my transaction. Yes people! I am learning. I no longer haggle with them at the Davina store at the Palms after the threatened to name and shame me over the public announcement system. I have decided to pretend I have it even when I don’t.
Like the other day when I supposedly had a date with Speedy Gonzale's BB Guy. Fine, maybe she was right about the whole quirky car = quirky guy scenario. He’s been interesting bb wise so far and he makes me laugh (You all know how I am with a guy that can make me giggle). Seen a picture and yes I would happily have his love child. Only problem is I have no idea what he sounds like. In this day and age of bbing it’s neigh on impossible to get someone to give you a call.
Like the art of letter writing was lost to the e-mail, the act of picking up the phone just to hear the sound of someone’s voice is slowly disappearing. I haven’t quiet got the hang of it yet though. I still yack away on the phone for ages and its costing me a fortune. I only realized how bad it was when the Mallam that sells phone cards next to my house brought his whole family to greet me the other day
“Chidden gweet madam. Na because of her you go go school this month.”
“Hooray for Madam. May you always have people to talk to”
The kids gave me 3 cheers and danced around me in a merry circle. All very touching but not sure I want anyone’s educational future to be dependant on my in ability to shut up for 5 seconds.
Anyway, never spoken to him. Have no idea if he can even speak English. You know how some people can write really well but when they actually speak you have to duck for cover because the taboning is like machine gun fire? Worse, he could be all manly looking. Muscles rippling as he walks and then he opens his mouth and you start looking around for Alvin and the Chipmunks. Fingers crossed he’ll be perfect. A Barry White sound alike with an absolute command of the English language. But what to wear for this hook up?
My stress, peanut and diet coke diet is working a lot better than I expected and none of my clothes fit anymore. Need me a new pair of jeans. So head to the mall and nip into one of the little boutiques to try on a couple. Finally settle on a pair that make my bum look like a peach and my legs like they go on forever. I’m soooooooooo cute. I can’t find a price tag on them anywhere but I recognize the store label and they ain’t exactly up market. So not worried about breaking the bank. I skip to the till all excited and hand them over to the sales assistant.
The store is busy and as she scans my item, I slowly start to hyperventilate. Hey! whats with all the zero's? Is that the item serial number on the till display because it sure as bloody hell can't be the price? So many numbers. How is that bloody possible? They’re high street jeans for crying out loud. I consider ignoring the sales assistants query about if I was paying by cash or card and running out of there as fast as my chubby little legs would carry me but I’m surrounded by snobby cows. I recognize one of the "Look my bag before you look me" girls from one of my accounts . We both like to oppress each other by slamming whatever designer bag we're carrying that day on the conference table whenever we have a meeting. She's one of those annoying people that knows everybody, so God forbid I'll allow her to start spreading the goss that Mena can’t afford jeans. What to do?
I guess I’ll just have to bite the bullet and hand over my card. This date better be worth it. I’m so snogging him weather he likes it or not. Even if it means getting the MOPO's to hold him down whilst I plant several hot smooches on him.
Er.. Isnt that sexual assualt?
So? Who does he want to tell that story too? Your friendly neighbourhood policeman?
"Boo hoo! Oh Officer I've just been violated by a hot woman. She was kissing me all over...Sob. It was just awful. I feel so dirty and used."
I beg! He'll probably get the crap kicked out of him for not dragging me into the bedroom by my hair and having his wicked way with me. Furthermore, there better be some butt groping involved as well cause I ain’t paying my entire going out budget for the month on ass enhancing jeans and not get my ass complimented and groped dammit!
Just as she’s about to swipe my card through and bankrupt me, a miracle happens. The machine starts to make a funny sound.
“I’m sorry madam but our card system has crashed again. Its been doing it all morning.”
Lord, I thank you. Please disregard all previous comments on snogging and ass groping out of wedlock. It was the devil.
“That’s a shame and I really wanted these jeans.”
You are still standing there posing for Shop Assistant Mena? Instead of you to run before the system decides to restart. I pirry you.
“I can hold it for you madam if you want to go and get cash from the ATM?”
“Yes please. I’ll be right back.”
Whatever suckers. Mena’s going home to look for an Obioma to take in her Baba Aluwe looking jeans for N200. Nonsense.
Anyway it’s a good thing I never did buy those jeans because if I had I would now be looking for some Area boys to go and beat my money out BB boy’s body for not turning up. So gonna kick his arse when I eventually see him and his little quirky mini.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
The Gambia Chronicles 2
Oh oh!
Houston we have a problem.
OK Brain! I don’t want you to panic but I think the impact of the gravitational pull on my boobs, when I bent over so quickly, was too much for my very fitted VW (OK, it’s a little tight but it was the only one there and it was a bargain) jacket and I just lost multiple buttons.
Probably not a big deal you’re all thinking. Thank God for camisoles and all that.
Weeellllll…being so tight and all, I don’t tend to wear anything but me bra under it. So if I sit up I’m about to give the entire boardroom a whole lot of French lace and boob.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I told you not to go down there. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Oh boy! We are so getting fired. We’re going to be poor. We’ll have to watch Hi TV, eat carbs and use Xpression weaves. Why Lord? Why am I attached to such a stupid person
Er yeah! What part of don’t panic didn’t you get? And where the hell did you learn a dirty word like “Xpression Weave?” We’ll be fine just focus and help me figure a way out of this mess.
“Miss Mena are you quiet alright down there?”
Crap. I’m so fired
“Yes Mr. Bank President. My pen is just being a bit more elusive than I anticipated.”
“I’m sure we can get you another pen. Why don’t you rejoin the meeting? We’d like to hear your project time line.”
“Er…I’ll be right there sir”.
Oh Lord! Which kin wahala be this? All this because of one alakoba epa. Food no go kill me.
“Miss Mena? We’re waiting.”
Sod it. Nothing I can do now. I’ll have to give Bank Manager and his cronies a full frontal
Just as I’m about to burst into tears and show the world Tyrese & Basky (Please! Talk to the hand... We all name em. Tyrese is the right one cause he’s a bigger star), Grumpy's head appears under the table
“Are you insane?” he whispers
This is the first time I’ve ever seen him anything other than calm and I’m kinda scared
“I’m assuming you have 4 million Dollars because I don’t. If we lose this deal because of whatever rubbish stunt you’re pulling down here, then I swear I will make it my personal mission in life to make sure you are never employed anywhere else again. Do you understand me?”
A bit harsh but fine by me mate. I am so not employee material anyway. Lady of leisure is more what I’m built for.
“Yes sir”
“Now get up here and give your presentation.”
“I can’t sir. I …erm, have a problem.”
I point down to my x-rated display.
“Jesus! Please I’m a married man.” He says averting his eye
Calm down Casanova. Not interested and even if I was planning on seducing you, it wouldn’t be under the conference table in the middle of multi million dollar project.
“Is there something going on down there that we should be aware of?”
“No Mr. Bank Manager” we say in unison.
Grumpy’s head disappears from under the table. I can hear him apologizing and 5 seconds later he’s back and thrusting his jacket at me.
“Here put this on and let’s get on with it.”
Hooray! Saved. No more Boobarama 2010. Hang on a sec…
“Sorry sir, is this jacket polyester
“I beg your pardon?"
“It’s just that I’m allergic to Polyester. Brings me out in a rash. Can only do natural fibers you see. I think Weird Server Guy’s jacket is a cotton blend and it goes better with my skirt.”
“Miss Mena. You have 5 seconds to put that on and continue with this meeting or you’re fired.”
“Yes sir."
You just can’t stop talking can you? Yak, yak, yakking right unto the unemployment line. I swear I’ll kill us both before I inhabit a body that can’t afford fortnightly manicures. You hear that crazy woman? I’ll just tell your little heart to stop pumping and that will be that.
Shut it Brain.
Eewww…His jacket smells like camphor.
1 humiliating, style challenged hour later. The meeting is over and my pain is the glue that finally sets the contract in place as everybody bonds by laughing over my earlier predicament. I hate Gambia.
I never wanted to come in the first place. When they started asking around for volunteers I was too engrossed on my bloody BB to pay any attention. All I heard was hotel and buffet breakfast (I have a thing for buffets. Sue me) and my hand shot up. I thought it was just another blinking Eko hotel conference. It was only later that I realized that it was thousands of miles away in another country and it required public speaking.
I should have known from the moment I got to the airport and immigration got on my case that it wasn’t going to be a pleasant trip. It’s a bad omen when the first thing the immigration official who is holding my NIGERIAN PASSPORT asks me is
“Are you Nigerian?”
No dumb ass, I'm from Timbuktu. I just like to paint my passport green and stencil NIGERIA on it. What do you think?
“You look like an Indian? Do you watch Indian films? I like Des ti numbari. I have that one at home”
Firstly, It’s Dus Numbri (My excuse for knowing this is that our house girl when I was 5 liked Indian movies) . Secondly, whats his point? I should come to his house and watch his betamax copies of Bollywood movies with him? I beg. I have a flight to catch. So even if I look like cross between Shaft and Medusa, my passport says I’m Nigerian so lets stick with that.
“Yes I am Nigerian.”
“En hen. So what part of Nigeria are you from?”
Is this guy serious? I have 15 minutes to get to my plane and he’s playing 20 questions. Grumpy &Weird Server guy from the IT department are already at the other side of the barrier waiting for me.
“I believe if you actually take the time to open up my passport you will find the answer to that in there.”
On hearing this, over friendly, can I buy you groundnut and a bottle of coke later?(I know that’s where he’s heading. My Toaster radar has become highly tuned and can sense an eminent toasting at least 5 minutes before it starts), becomes all serious on me.
“Me I should take the time to open your passport abi? Very Good.”
Whatever. Do quick my friend. I need to make sure I’m sitting either by the window or aisle side. Refuse to be wedged between 2 smelly men for goodness knows how many hours.
“Olo du mare! Madam is this you?”
“Excuse me! There's absolutely no need to shout”.
Ok you know I always go on about my nicely rounded frame? Well at one point it wasn’t so nicely rounded. I was just a total heffer. It was at this stage in my life I decided to get my Nigerian passport renewed and lets just say the picture in there is not my most flattering.
“Ennn…Mr.Johnson. I beg come see something"
What is this man doing?
“Look I'm sorry. But I’m going to miss my flight. Can you just hurry this along? My colleagues are already waiting for me.”
“Hey madam! Are you trying to tell me how to do my job? “
“No but…”
“Then be quiet. This is a very serious offence and I require my own colleagues to check this”
“Offence? What offence?”
“Trying to travel on someone elses passport “
Oh Lord! Is this guy for real?
“Look I’ve just lost some weight. I surely don’t look that different.”
“You just lost weight ke? This one don pass weight issue. I say this no be you. Mr. Johnson!”
“Look I can show you my other documentation if you would like?”
“Blow out your cheeks.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sebi you say na fat? En blow out your cheeks so you look fat and I will compare the picture to your face.”
Nigerian Criminal Forensics at its finest.
“I'm sorry but I'm not blowing out my cheeks in the middle of a crowded airport like a 5 year old.”
"You never wan travel. Please move to one side let me deal with the legal travellers."
Argh!
So I stand there, in the middle of the airport amidst no hopers and first class hotties alike, and blow out my cheeks like a puffer fish.
He pretends to compare the two pictures but I know he’s just trying to get me back for dissing him.
“So na true? Na you be this?Ah! I hope you go to church regularly to thank God for this miracle in your life? “
Ignoramus. Guessing the only qualification needed to be an immigration official over here is a heartbeat and sight.
“Can I go now please?”
“Dey go. I like you before but person no fit put you for house. Fear go dey catch them pe when you relax you go just dey expand anyhow.”
I waited till I was safely across the barrier before I sent a very deserved “Your Mama” his way and legged it to the waiting plane. Idiot.
I really should have turned back there and then but hey! You live and you learn.
Houston we have a problem.
OK Brain! I don’t want you to panic but I think the impact of the gravitational pull on my boobs, when I bent over so quickly, was too much for my very fitted VW (OK, it’s a little tight but it was the only one there and it was a bargain) jacket and I just lost multiple buttons.
Probably not a big deal you’re all thinking. Thank God for camisoles and all that.
Weeellllll…being so tight and all, I don’t tend to wear anything but me bra under it. So if I sit up I’m about to give the entire boardroom a whole lot of French lace and boob.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I told you not to go down there. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Oh boy! We are so getting fired. We’re going to be poor. We’ll have to watch Hi TV, eat carbs and use Xpression weaves. Why Lord? Why am I attached to such a stupid person
Er yeah! What part of don’t panic didn’t you get? And where the hell did you learn a dirty word like “Xpression Weave?” We’ll be fine just focus and help me figure a way out of this mess.
“Miss Mena are you quiet alright down there?”
Crap. I’m so fired
“Yes Mr. Bank President. My pen is just being a bit more elusive than I anticipated.”
“I’m sure we can get you another pen. Why don’t you rejoin the meeting? We’d like to hear your project time line.”
“Er…I’ll be right there sir”.
Oh Lord! Which kin wahala be this? All this because of one alakoba epa. Food no go kill me.
“Miss Mena? We’re waiting.”
Sod it. Nothing I can do now. I’ll have to give Bank Manager and his cronies a full frontal
Just as I’m about to burst into tears and show the world Tyrese & Basky (Please! Talk to the hand... We all name em. Tyrese is the right one cause he’s a bigger star), Grumpy's head appears under the table
“Are you insane?” he whispers
This is the first time I’ve ever seen him anything other than calm and I’m kinda scared
“I’m assuming you have 4 million Dollars because I don’t. If we lose this deal because of whatever rubbish stunt you’re pulling down here, then I swear I will make it my personal mission in life to make sure you are never employed anywhere else again. Do you understand me?”
A bit harsh but fine by me mate. I am so not employee material anyway. Lady of leisure is more what I’m built for.
“Yes sir”
“Now get up here and give your presentation.”
“I can’t sir. I …erm, have a problem.”
I point down to my x-rated display.
“Jesus! Please I’m a married man.” He says averting his eye
Calm down Casanova. Not interested and even if I was planning on seducing you, it wouldn’t be under the conference table in the middle of multi million dollar project.
“Is there something going on down there that we should be aware of?”
“No Mr. Bank Manager” we say in unison.
Grumpy’s head disappears from under the table. I can hear him apologizing and 5 seconds later he’s back and thrusting his jacket at me.
“Here put this on and let’s get on with it.”
Hooray! Saved. No more Boobarama 2010. Hang on a sec…
“Sorry sir, is this jacket polyester
“I beg your pardon?"
“It’s just that I’m allergic to Polyester. Brings me out in a rash. Can only do natural fibers you see. I think Weird Server Guy’s jacket is a cotton blend and it goes better with my skirt.”
“Miss Mena. You have 5 seconds to put that on and continue with this meeting or you’re fired.”
“Yes sir."
You just can’t stop talking can you? Yak, yak, yakking right unto the unemployment line. I swear I’ll kill us both before I inhabit a body that can’t afford fortnightly manicures. You hear that crazy woman? I’ll just tell your little heart to stop pumping and that will be that.
Shut it Brain.
Eewww…His jacket smells like camphor.
1 humiliating, style challenged hour later. The meeting is over and my pain is the glue that finally sets the contract in place as everybody bonds by laughing over my earlier predicament. I hate Gambia.
I never wanted to come in the first place. When they started asking around for volunteers I was too engrossed on my bloody BB to pay any attention. All I heard was hotel and buffet breakfast (I have a thing for buffets. Sue me) and my hand shot up. I thought it was just another blinking Eko hotel conference. It was only later that I realized that it was thousands of miles away in another country and it required public speaking.
I should have known from the moment I got to the airport and immigration got on my case that it wasn’t going to be a pleasant trip. It’s a bad omen when the first thing the immigration official who is holding my NIGERIAN PASSPORT asks me is
“Are you Nigerian?”
No dumb ass, I'm from Timbuktu. I just like to paint my passport green and stencil NIGERIA on it. What do you think?
“You look like an Indian? Do you watch Indian films? I like Des ti numbari. I have that one at home”
Firstly, It’s Dus Numbri (My excuse for knowing this is that our house girl when I was 5 liked Indian movies) . Secondly, whats his point? I should come to his house and watch his betamax copies of Bollywood movies with him? I beg. I have a flight to catch. So even if I look like cross between Shaft and Medusa, my passport says I’m Nigerian so lets stick with that.
“Yes I am Nigerian.”
“En hen. So what part of Nigeria are you from?”
Is this guy serious? I have 15 minutes to get to my plane and he’s playing 20 questions. Grumpy &Weird Server guy from the IT department are already at the other side of the barrier waiting for me.
“I believe if you actually take the time to open up my passport you will find the answer to that in there.”
On hearing this, over friendly, can I buy you groundnut and a bottle of coke later?(I know that’s where he’s heading. My Toaster radar has become highly tuned and can sense an eminent toasting at least 5 minutes before it starts), becomes all serious on me.
“Me I should take the time to open your passport abi? Very Good.”
Whatever. Do quick my friend. I need to make sure I’m sitting either by the window or aisle side. Refuse to be wedged between 2 smelly men for goodness knows how many hours.
“Olo du mare! Madam is this you?”
“Excuse me! There's absolutely no need to shout”.
Ok you know I always go on about my nicely rounded frame? Well at one point it wasn’t so nicely rounded. I was just a total heffer. It was at this stage in my life I decided to get my Nigerian passport renewed and lets just say the picture in there is not my most flattering.
“Ennn…Mr.Johnson. I beg come see something"
What is this man doing?
“Look I'm sorry. But I’m going to miss my flight. Can you just hurry this along? My colleagues are already waiting for me.”
“Hey madam! Are you trying to tell me how to do my job? “
“No but…”
“Then be quiet. This is a very serious offence and I require my own colleagues to check this”
“Offence? What offence?”
“Trying to travel on someone elses passport “
Oh Lord! Is this guy for real?
“Look I’ve just lost some weight. I surely don’t look that different.”
“You just lost weight ke? This one don pass weight issue. I say this no be you. Mr. Johnson!”
“Look I can show you my other documentation if you would like?”
“Blow out your cheeks.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sebi you say na fat? En blow out your cheeks so you look fat and I will compare the picture to your face.”
Nigerian Criminal Forensics at its finest.
“I'm sorry but I'm not blowing out my cheeks in the middle of a crowded airport like a 5 year old.”
"You never wan travel. Please move to one side let me deal with the legal travellers."
Argh!
So I stand there, in the middle of the airport amidst no hopers and first class hotties alike, and blow out my cheeks like a puffer fish.
He pretends to compare the two pictures but I know he’s just trying to get me back for dissing him.
“So na true? Na you be this?Ah! I hope you go to church regularly to thank God for this miracle in your life? “
Ignoramus. Guessing the only qualification needed to be an immigration official over here is a heartbeat and sight.
“Can I go now please?”
“Dey go. I like you before but person no fit put you for house. Fear go dey catch them pe when you relax you go just dey expand anyhow.”
I waited till I was safely across the barrier before I sent a very deserved “Your Mama” his way and legged it to the waiting plane. Idiot.
I really should have turned back there and then but hey! You live and you learn.
Monday, June 07, 2010
The Gambia Chronicles
Darn it! I dropped a peanut down my top. I would reach in and get it but I’m in a meeting and not just any old meeting either. I’m in Gambia (More on that later) for a major contract meeting and I need to be on my best behavior. No classic Mena F up’s today. But this darn peanut is making me uncomfortable. Which probably brings you to the question why I’m eating peanuts in my meeting in the first place?
Well I was hungry. Missed the buffet breakfast at the hotel because I was assaulted in my hotel room.
Assaulted you say?
Yep!
There I was minding me own business, going about my early morning routine
This is how brush my teeth
Brush my teeth, brush my teeth.
This is how I my brush my tee...
Mena don’t look now but we are not alone.
Watcha talking about Brain?
Look over there. In the corner
Sure enough, sitting in the corner, looking right at me was a ginormous rodent (OK maybe it was a mouse but that’s beside the point). It wasn’t no friendly looking Tom & Jerry mouse either. This one had a deranged look in its eye and it was eyeing me up like all its Christmases had come at once. I knew what it was thinking…
Darn men! Look at all the meat on her. If I bring her down Mrs. Mouse we’ll definitely be giving me some darn good whisker loving tonight. Not to mention the fact that we’ll be feasting till we have great, great,grand kids. Quick nibble at her Achilles heel and she’ll be down like timber.
Brain looks like he’s homing in for the kill. Work with me here.
OK Mena!
We’re going to slowly reach for the towel, throw it over the mouse, then put the bin on top of it to trap it and then we’ll get someone to get rid of it humanely for us. OK?
Screw that! I say scream and run. You've been in the UK too long. You're an African damn it. U no dey watch horror movie? Why do you think Nollywood hasn’t started making them yet? It’s because they know Africans don’t do that “Let's see what’s making that scary noise. Oh it’s a demonic rat from the pits of hell. Wonder what it wants?” It wants to kill you stupid person and you deserve to be gnawed to death by its little ratty teeth if you don’t get the hell out of here right now.
There’s something not quite right with you Brain. OK, maybe I'll just call down to the porter and get him to sort it out. He's been looking for an excuse to come into my room since I got here anyway. Maybe he's one of those gigolo's everyone keeps going on about.
Damn! Too late its making a move. He's got me cornered and I cant get to the door.
Noooooooooooooo!!!! I’m trapped. Eeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk(that’s me screaming not the mouse. Please note the lady like delivery.)
Now you are screaming abi?! NOW YOU ARE SCREAMING! Just like all those crazy oyinbo's that won't run and scream when they see Johnny their boyfriend, who they wore aso ebi to bury last week, in their bathroom. Instead they"ll be asking "Johnny is that you?" Ode run. No be Johnny. Na im zombie twin brother. Its only when Johnny starts eating them alive that they start screaming. Next time you will listen to me. You are on your own. I'm shutting down.
Don't you dare brain. Move my damn legs now.
I jump into the bath tub and continue screaming. The mouse is trying to clamber into the bathtub. I don’t friggin believe this? What hell is wrong with the cockroaches and rats in this continent? Don’t they know their place? They’re supposed to run away from me not mount planned military attacks on my person. Sod this! I’m not going to be trapped in a 3* hotel bath tub for eternity because of razzo Mickey Mouse here. I grab the shower attachment and spray ratty with a good dose of hot water. That should get rid of it.
It definitely stops him in his tracks…for about 2 seconds. Then he shakes him self of like a tiny devil dog (Does anyone remember that movie? Just me? Darn movie snobs) and just stares at me like…
Yeeee!!!! See this girl that I was even taking it easy with. Today na today. Mrs. Ekute must chop meat.
He then resumes his frantic clambering up the side of the bath and I resume my screaming. The next thing the hotel porter comes crashing into the bathroom waving a big stick around, almost taking my eye out.
Why is everyone determined to maim before my future boo arrives? I notice he stops to give me the once over, registering his disappointment at my not being naked and covered in soap suds with a hiss before reluctantly looking around for the source of my discomfort.
Devil rat, realizing it’s now outnumbered gives me an “I’ll get you later look” and attempts to clamber back into the hole it came from. Too late though, a rather sturdy boot comes crashing down on it and so ends the life of ratty.
Anyway after my traumatic ordeal, by the time I’m ready and downstairs, Grumpy and Weird IT guy from our Pakistan office, who introduced himself to me by saying “My you’re beautiful like binary numbers”, were already pacing up and down the lobby. So no breakfast for moi. Which brought me to the moment when, my brain having shut down after 10 minutes of Grumpy’s monotonous voice, I happened to be exploring the pockets of my jacket(Vivienne Westwood…don’t hate a sister cause she fly)when I came across a lone peanut.
"Hello" it said
"Would you like to crack me open and eat my nutty goodness?"
"Well yes I would" I replied.
"Thank you for asking"
"Well you can crack me quietly under the table, palm me and then just pretend to cough and pop me in."
"My, my, you’re a very clever peanut and it’s almost a shame to eat you."
"It is my sole purpose in life to be eaten and I must say it would be an honor to be eaten by one as lovely as you."
"Oh Peanut stop. You’re so charmi…"
STOP IT!! YOU’RE TALKING TO A BLOODY PEANUT. JUST EAT THE DAMN THING!
Don’t shout at me brain. I’ll eat it when I’m good and ready.
Shio. Nonsense.
So there I was, having successful cracked the shell and retrieved my nutty treat, I attempted to cough and drop but missed. Dropping it down my top and into my bra, where it was now poking me.
Just wait till the end of the meeting Mena. It’s only a peanut so don’t do anything stupid.
What do you mean by that Brain? I resent that statement. I never do anything stupid.
I know I’ll just drop my pen under the table and when I go down to retrieve it; I’ll have a quick rummage in my boulder holder and fish out the offending nut. Wala! Problem solved.
Please don’t do it. Just wait. I just know somethings going to go wrong.
Ah Brain! O' ye of little faith. What could possibly go wrong? See already dropped the pen under the table and now just bend and…
Oh oh!
Well I was hungry. Missed the buffet breakfast at the hotel because I was assaulted in my hotel room.
Assaulted you say?
Yep!
There I was minding me own business, going about my early morning routine
This is how brush my teeth
Brush my teeth, brush my teeth.
This is how I my brush my tee...
Mena don’t look now but we are not alone.
Watcha talking about Brain?
Look over there. In the corner
Sure enough, sitting in the corner, looking right at me was a ginormous rodent (OK maybe it was a mouse but that’s beside the point). It wasn’t no friendly looking Tom & Jerry mouse either. This one had a deranged look in its eye and it was eyeing me up like all its Christmases had come at once. I knew what it was thinking…
Darn men! Look at all the meat on her. If I bring her down Mrs. Mouse we’ll definitely be giving me some darn good whisker loving tonight. Not to mention the fact that we’ll be feasting till we have great, great,grand kids. Quick nibble at her Achilles heel and she’ll be down like timber.
Brain looks like he’s homing in for the kill. Work with me here.
OK Mena!
We’re going to slowly reach for the towel, throw it over the mouse, then put the bin on top of it to trap it and then we’ll get someone to get rid of it humanely for us. OK?
Screw that! I say scream and run. You've been in the UK too long. You're an African damn it. U no dey watch horror movie? Why do you think Nollywood hasn’t started making them yet? It’s because they know Africans don’t do that “Let's see what’s making that scary noise. Oh it’s a demonic rat from the pits of hell. Wonder what it wants?” It wants to kill you stupid person and you deserve to be gnawed to death by its little ratty teeth if you don’t get the hell out of here right now.
There’s something not quite right with you Brain. OK, maybe I'll just call down to the porter and get him to sort it out. He's been looking for an excuse to come into my room since I got here anyway. Maybe he's one of those gigolo's everyone keeps going on about.
Damn! Too late its making a move. He's got me cornered and I cant get to the door.
Noooooooooooooo!!!! I’m trapped. Eeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk(that’s me screaming not the mouse. Please note the lady like delivery.)
Now you are screaming abi?! NOW YOU ARE SCREAMING! Just like all those crazy oyinbo's that won't run and scream when they see Johnny their boyfriend, who they wore aso ebi to bury last week, in their bathroom. Instead they"ll be asking "Johnny is that you?" Ode run. No be Johnny. Na im zombie twin brother. Its only when Johnny starts eating them alive that they start screaming. Next time you will listen to me. You are on your own. I'm shutting down.
Don't you dare brain. Move my damn legs now.
I jump into the bath tub and continue screaming. The mouse is trying to clamber into the bathtub. I don’t friggin believe this? What hell is wrong with the cockroaches and rats in this continent? Don’t they know their place? They’re supposed to run away from me not mount planned military attacks on my person. Sod this! I’m not going to be trapped in a 3* hotel bath tub for eternity because of razzo Mickey Mouse here. I grab the shower attachment and spray ratty with a good dose of hot water. That should get rid of it.
It definitely stops him in his tracks…for about 2 seconds. Then he shakes him self of like a tiny devil dog (Does anyone remember that movie? Just me? Darn movie snobs) and just stares at me like…
Yeeee!!!! See this girl that I was even taking it easy with. Today na today. Mrs. Ekute must chop meat.
He then resumes his frantic clambering up the side of the bath and I resume my screaming. The next thing the hotel porter comes crashing into the bathroom waving a big stick around, almost taking my eye out.
Why is everyone determined to maim before my future boo arrives? I notice he stops to give me the once over, registering his disappointment at my not being naked and covered in soap suds with a hiss before reluctantly looking around for the source of my discomfort.
Devil rat, realizing it’s now outnumbered gives me an “I’ll get you later look” and attempts to clamber back into the hole it came from. Too late though, a rather sturdy boot comes crashing down on it and so ends the life of ratty.
Anyway after my traumatic ordeal, by the time I’m ready and downstairs, Grumpy and Weird IT guy from our Pakistan office, who introduced himself to me by saying “My you’re beautiful like binary numbers”, were already pacing up and down the lobby. So no breakfast for moi. Which brought me to the moment when, my brain having shut down after 10 minutes of Grumpy’s monotonous voice, I happened to be exploring the pockets of my jacket(Vivienne Westwood…don’t hate a sister cause she fly)when I came across a lone peanut.
"Hello" it said
"Would you like to crack me open and eat my nutty goodness?"
"Well yes I would" I replied.
"Thank you for asking"
"Well you can crack me quietly under the table, palm me and then just pretend to cough and pop me in."
"My, my, you’re a very clever peanut and it’s almost a shame to eat you."
"It is my sole purpose in life to be eaten and I must say it would be an honor to be eaten by one as lovely as you."
"Oh Peanut stop. You’re so charmi…"
STOP IT!! YOU’RE TALKING TO A BLOODY PEANUT. JUST EAT THE DAMN THING!
Don’t shout at me brain. I’ll eat it when I’m good and ready.
Shio. Nonsense.
So there I was, having successful cracked the shell and retrieved my nutty treat, I attempted to cough and drop but missed. Dropping it down my top and into my bra, where it was now poking me.
Just wait till the end of the meeting Mena. It’s only a peanut so don’t do anything stupid.
What do you mean by that Brain? I resent that statement. I never do anything stupid.
I know I’ll just drop my pen under the table and when I go down to retrieve it; I’ll have a quick rummage in my boulder holder and fish out the offending nut. Wala! Problem solved.
Please don’t do it. Just wait. I just know somethings going to go wrong.
Ah Brain! O' ye of little faith. What could possibly go wrong? See already dropped the pen under the table and now just bend and…
Oh oh!
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
No be curse. Na karma.
When I walked back into the office after my mini show down with Alhaji, the whole place was agog with gossip and there was a little welcoming committee headed up by Bad Weave waiting for me at my desk.
So not in the mood to talk with the “Ladies(I use that term veeeeerrrry loosely)" in my office today. It’s going to cut into my goggling time and anyway I know they just want to hear about Alhaji. I suppose I could lie that he was mine to make them jealous but Lagos is a small place. One of them might know somebody, who knows somebody, who once sat next to his wifey at the hairdressers and all hell could break loose. Refuse to be smacked down for trying to oppress my work colleagues.
“So, is that your boyfriend?” asks Bad Weave chick as I sit down at my desk.
“No he’s just a friend”
“Oh! Is he toasting you?”
Like it’s any of your beeswax
“Like I said…He’s just a friend.”
“Really? So you wouldn’t mind giving me his number? The bobo was too much. You and I need to be hanging out if those are the kinda guys you roll with o.”
The day I start hanging out with Bad Weave girl is the day Christian Lacroix makes an entire collection out of polyester and collaborates with Cherie Blair on design. May I never live to see such. Abi, since when do I look like Cilla Black? Even if I liked Bad Weave, which I don’t, she no look mirror before she ask if I would introduce her to a hottie? Does he look like the kinda of guy that considers Chicken Republic a first date venue? Please she should carry her plether shoes away from my desk. All her man made fibers are starting to make me itch. Anyway, if I can’t have his married ass, she as sure as hell ain't getting it.
“He’s married.”
“That’s fine.” she says edging closer like we're about to trade top secret info.
‘Pardon?”
“I said that’s fine. Those are the best kind. They spoil you rotten and you don’t have to worry about doing the boring wife duties.”
The assembled group seems to find this funny. I am obviously surrounded by the Victoria Island chapter of The Whores of Babylon Unite.
“So you don’t have an issue with dating married men?”
“Not really. Obviously it can be annoying when you want to see them and they are giving you some dry excuse about spending time with their wife. But all in all, it’s the married ones that have it made, that’s why they are married.”
Thank you Jesus for revealing my enemies to me. Se pe I, the legal iyawo before man and God will be annoying rubbish like this because I want to spend time with my own husband? I rebuke it. It’s even good that I now know that I must never allow any of my future potentials to enter this office.
“And it doesn’t bother you that you’re intruding on another woman’s space?”
“I beg! Sebi he married her? En she should be grateful for that now. Abi do you know how many women are looking to change their name to Mrs.? I’m not intruding on anything. If her husband needs to alleviate the stress of being married to her by entertaining me, who am I to complain?”
Once again, laughter from the other members of the coven. I wonder if I should casually flick some holy water round my desk in case they are mystically downloading all my potential contacts from my BB as we speak. To be honest, not sure what shocks me the most; the fact that she is so blasé about the whole thing or that she knows how to use the word "Alleviate" in a sentence. I'm sorry, but I've got to make my feelings known.
“Na wa! May your husband to meet women that will help him alleviate the stress of being married to you.”
“Ah ah! Na curse?”
“Curse ke?! No be curse o. Na karma. You won’t say Amen?”
“Which one be karma again?”
Thank God. My faith in her razzness is restored.
“That’s simply means whatever you do, good or bad, will always come back to you.”
“Really? Sorry o Aunty Karma. Just because someone is even gisting with you. Like na your salary dey buy all your designer, designer.”
Ye! See this no taste asewo questioning my ability to keep myself on point.
“Excuse me?!”
“Nothing. I beg girls lets go.”
“No really, if you have something to say then by all means let’s hear it.”
“I said nothing. Sorry o.”
It better be nothing…. Jezebel from Isale Eko. Shio.
See this thing. So that’s what she’s been thinking all this time? That I had myself a Sugar Daddy funding my fashion addiction. She doesn’t know anything. If I had Sugar Daddy believe me she would know because I would have a different handbag for everyday of the year and a personal slave to carry them around for me so I don't strain myself.
No wonder Alhaji has no qualms about trying to hook up with random women because there are obviously quiet a lot of random women looking to hook up with his married ass. You know what? Maybe I will give Bad Weave his number. By the time she’s fleeced him dry and sent him home to his wife with some funky STD (Sorry but someone that skanky has got to have something), he might just change his evil ways.
I remember reading an article the other day about some woman who was suing her husband’s mistress for breaking up their marriage. A whole bunch of other women were up in arms about why do women always blame the other woman and not their husbands in this situation? You know what? I agree with the wife because fundamentally we all know guys ain’t very bright (Sorry fellas, but the truth hurts). They spend their lives following their fun sticks around and giving in to little impulses that usually come back to bite them and us in the ass. I’m not saying they get a free get out of jail card but at least they have the excuse of being daft (Just making a point).The home wrecker on the other hand has no such excuse.
She’s a woman just like you. She's got the same fears, needs and aspirations when it comes to men. She's probably been cheated on at some point in her life too, so she knows how it feels. Yet she has somehow managed to convince herself that it’s not her fault. They were in love before they found out about you. That they don’t know you and that you’re obviously a bad wife, and those are the ones that even have some sort of conscience. The others, like Bad Weave, just don’t care.You could have been voted best iyawo on the planet, 5 consecutive years in a row, live in the apartment right next door and even loaned her skanky ass money to get a Peruvian lace front wig. Does she care? Hell no! She just wants what you’ve got and see's no reason to go through the stress of finding her own. So, when a woman knows a man is married and still decides to give him what he ain’t supposed to be getting; well then, I say sue the biatch for all she’s worth cause karma always gets you in the end.
So not in the mood to talk with the “Ladies(I use that term veeeeerrrry loosely)" in my office today. It’s going to cut into my goggling time and anyway I know they just want to hear about Alhaji. I suppose I could lie that he was mine to make them jealous but Lagos is a small place. One of them might know somebody, who knows somebody, who once sat next to his wifey at the hairdressers and all hell could break loose. Refuse to be smacked down for trying to oppress my work colleagues.
“So, is that your boyfriend?” asks Bad Weave chick as I sit down at my desk.
“No he’s just a friend”
“Oh! Is he toasting you?”
Like it’s any of your beeswax
“Like I said…He’s just a friend.”
“Really? So you wouldn’t mind giving me his number? The bobo was too much. You and I need to be hanging out if those are the kinda guys you roll with o.”
The day I start hanging out with Bad Weave girl is the day Christian Lacroix makes an entire collection out of polyester and collaborates with Cherie Blair on design. May I never live to see such. Abi, since when do I look like Cilla Black? Even if I liked Bad Weave, which I don’t, she no look mirror before she ask if I would introduce her to a hottie? Does he look like the kinda of guy that considers Chicken Republic a first date venue? Please she should carry her plether shoes away from my desk. All her man made fibers are starting to make me itch. Anyway, if I can’t have his married ass, she as sure as hell ain't getting it.
“He’s married.”
“That’s fine.” she says edging closer like we're about to trade top secret info.
‘Pardon?”
“I said that’s fine. Those are the best kind. They spoil you rotten and you don’t have to worry about doing the boring wife duties.”
The assembled group seems to find this funny. I am obviously surrounded by the Victoria Island chapter of The Whores of Babylon Unite.
“So you don’t have an issue with dating married men?”
“Not really. Obviously it can be annoying when you want to see them and they are giving you some dry excuse about spending time with their wife. But all in all, it’s the married ones that have it made, that’s why they are married.”
Thank you Jesus for revealing my enemies to me. Se pe I, the legal iyawo before man and God will be annoying rubbish like this because I want to spend time with my own husband? I rebuke it. It’s even good that I now know that I must never allow any of my future potentials to enter this office.
“And it doesn’t bother you that you’re intruding on another woman’s space?”
“I beg! Sebi he married her? En she should be grateful for that now. Abi do you know how many women are looking to change their name to Mrs.? I’m not intruding on anything. If her husband needs to alleviate the stress of being married to her by entertaining me, who am I to complain?”
Once again, laughter from the other members of the coven. I wonder if I should casually flick some holy water round my desk in case they are mystically downloading all my potential contacts from my BB as we speak. To be honest, not sure what shocks me the most; the fact that she is so blasé about the whole thing or that she knows how to use the word "Alleviate" in a sentence. I'm sorry, but I've got to make my feelings known.
“Na wa! May your husband to meet women that will help him alleviate the stress of being married to you.”
“Ah ah! Na curse?”
“Curse ke?! No be curse o. Na karma. You won’t say Amen?”
“Which one be karma again?”
Thank God. My faith in her razzness is restored.
“That’s simply means whatever you do, good or bad, will always come back to you.”
“Really? Sorry o Aunty Karma. Just because someone is even gisting with you. Like na your salary dey buy all your designer, designer.”
Ye! See this no taste asewo questioning my ability to keep myself on point.
“Excuse me?!”
“Nothing. I beg girls lets go.”
“No really, if you have something to say then by all means let’s hear it.”
“I said nothing. Sorry o.”
It better be nothing…. Jezebel from Isale Eko. Shio.
See this thing. So that’s what she’s been thinking all this time? That I had myself a Sugar Daddy funding my fashion addiction. She doesn’t know anything. If I had Sugar Daddy believe me she would know because I would have a different handbag for everyday of the year and a personal slave to carry them around for me so I don't strain myself.
No wonder Alhaji has no qualms about trying to hook up with random women because there are obviously quiet a lot of random women looking to hook up with his married ass. You know what? Maybe I will give Bad Weave his number. By the time she’s fleeced him dry and sent him home to his wife with some funky STD (Sorry but someone that skanky has got to have something), he might just change his evil ways.
I remember reading an article the other day about some woman who was suing her husband’s mistress for breaking up their marriage. A whole bunch of other women were up in arms about why do women always blame the other woman and not their husbands in this situation? You know what? I agree with the wife because fundamentally we all know guys ain’t very bright (Sorry fellas, but the truth hurts). They spend their lives following their fun sticks around and giving in to little impulses that usually come back to bite them and us in the ass. I’m not saying they get a free get out of jail card but at least they have the excuse of being daft (Just making a point).The home wrecker on the other hand has no such excuse.
She’s a woman just like you. She's got the same fears, needs and aspirations when it comes to men. She's probably been cheated on at some point in her life too, so she knows how it feels. Yet she has somehow managed to convince herself that it’s not her fault. They were in love before they found out about you. That they don’t know you and that you’re obviously a bad wife, and those are the ones that even have some sort of conscience. The others, like Bad Weave, just don’t care.You could have been voted best iyawo on the planet, 5 consecutive years in a row, live in the apartment right next door and even loaned her skanky ass money to get a Peruvian lace front wig. Does she care? Hell no! She just wants what you’ve got and see's no reason to go through the stress of finding her own. So, when a woman knows a man is married and still decides to give him what he ain’t supposed to be getting; well then, I say sue the biatch for all she’s worth cause karma always gets you in the end.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
![[Get Copyright Permissions]](http://license.icopyright.net/images/icopy-w.gif){kind=small}
Click here for copyright permissions!