Woman on the brink.

Mena no go baje

2011-10-10T16:58:00.000+01:00

Damn it!

I'm trying to see how long I can go without having an impure thought and so far I’ve only lasted 12 seconds. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be pure and wholesome? I’m never going to marry my pastor at this rate. The “How to holify yourself for marriage” manual clearly states “A pastors wife needs to be able to maintain at least 120 mins of uninterrupted pure thought a day”.

I’ve been practicing for 3 days and I’m averaging an additional 4 seconds per day before something p’s me off or I get my recurring man in a thong fantasy(I don’t even like thongs and yet I can’t stop thinking about them now). At this rate I won’t achieve pastor wife status for another 4 years or so.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! Boo Hoo

I could be dead from non-nuptials syndrome by then.

Maybe I’m thinking about it too much and I need to focus on other things. That’s it… I’m going to relax and do things to make my life better. Be more pro-active in creating a nicer environment for myself so I’m not constantly plagued by evil thoughts; and I know just where to start.

Brain take a memo.

Dear Uncle Fash,

You might think me calling you Uncle Fash is a bit forward seeing as we’ve never met but I waited 2 hours under the blistering sun to vote for you. Even the toning cream I’ve been using hasn’t restored my skin to its former glory after that experience so I think I have earned the right to call you Uncle Fash.

Uncle Fash … What’s up with this bridge on Ozumba now? I used to enjoy cackling to myself as I zoomed past my colleagues attempting to make their way unto the Falomo Bridge…Oh happy days (You might think that’s mean Uncle Fash but truly they are not very nice people and deserve to be laughed at). But I can’t laugh anymore Uncle Fash...No I cannot. My laughter has shriveled up inside me because I now need every ounce of energy I can summon to maneuver my manual car home through the traffic on Adeyemo Alakija/Akin Adesola. The other day my usual 5 minute journey took me an hour and 20 minutes. Why now Uncle Fash?

I'm a fine girl with an ample frame but lovely sinewy limbs. My limbs are no longer sinewy Uncle Fash. My legs have now started to develop thick muscles fondly known as yams and I have acquired a nervous tic on the right side of my body from struggling with Danfo drivers trying to cut into my lane. Did I mention I was single Uncle Fash? Young, fine and single but now all people will see are the tuber sized muscles bulging out of my skinny jeans as I nervously tic away.

Not only am I being disfigured by your new bridge, I am also missing out on potential dating action. All attempts to get eligible young men to pick me up from home for our dates are now met with phrases like “Ah! Babe…that your street go hard on a Friday night o. You no fit hop okada and I go jam you at the venue?” Now I don’t want you thinking I hang out with non-queens English speaking suitors. The date in question was a Harvard law graduate who was reduced to local vernacular at the thought of being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for hours just take me out on a date; where he would be required to drop money for at least one bottle of pink champagne. You too pity him now.

As a regular tax payer and ardent supporter of your fine self I don’t think its too much to ask for you to buy a few more bags of cement and just kuku ma curve the bridge all the way down to Ikoyi. They are rich in ikoyi and can afford automatic cars or at least drivers to develop the yams on their behalf. Some people might say I’m being selfish and that traffic is a necessary evil that affects us all. Don't mind them Uncle Fash. Those people are not God fearing. My God fearing brothers and sister would not want me to suffer like this. They would want me to able to wear short skirts in the summer and not have children chasing me down the road calling me "Aunty Warapa" because of my tic.

I know you are a good man who will not allow his governmental decisions to be dictated by heathens. So come tomorrow morning I expect to see a bridge closed sign and nubile young men mixing concrete for my ingenious bridge extension idea. No fall my hand o. Don’t worry me and my other single, manual car driving friends will support you come election time. Not to mention the special invite to my wedding once the yams go down and I catch a man.

Uncle Fash Fash!!!!! Eko no go baje.

Your ever loyal constituent

Mena

PS: Do you have any vacancies in that your office?

Revelations in love

2011-10-07T16:56:00.000+01:00

I'm in church.

Normally this really shouldn’t be too much of a surprise but it’s a Wednesday evening and we all know my commitment to my Christian life get the occasional “K” leg. But drastic times call for drastic measures. The re-emergence of Hmm Dude and other dodgy male acquaintances in my life leads me to believe I require spiritual intervention.

Anyway, seems I’m not the only one requiring intervention as church is pretty crowded. Naturally, old habits die hard and I can’t help but cast my “Single, fine boy” radar round the room.

ALERT! TARGET ACQUIRED!

I can spot a lonesome cutie towards the front of the hall. I adjust what my mama gave me and head towards the empty seat next to him. Suddenly my sessy spider senses start tingling and from the corner of my eye I spot another desperate single lady heading towards him on the opposite aisle. She catches my eye and we both give each other the once over.

We Man Eaters…We know ourselves.

She’s slimmer than me, very few might say prettier and those might even be real LV alligator platforms she’s wearing but I’ve got something she hasn’t… flat shoes.

Take that sister! I think as I start to power walk towards the prize.

Chia! This seat far o and Alligator Heels seems to be one of those annoying sisters who can run a marathon in heels. Damn my mother and her “No heels till you graduate rule”. I’m starting to lose my breath and beads of sweat are beginning to collect on my dainty nose. This is not good. Not the first impression I want to give the cutie but no time to stop and get a tissue out of my bag now; Alligator Heels is only 2 strides behind me. I know my mother and every self respecting lady would pass out in horror right now but I don’t care as I use my hands to wipe my sweaty face and rub them on the back of my dress.

Mennnnaaa!

Story. Na u go marry me?

Ah ha! Alligator girl just stumbled over a cable. Thank u Lord for signs and wonders. This bobo is mine.

Just as I come up to his row and make to sit down….the devil strikes

“Hello Madam can you sit on this row please?” says a stern looking usher blocking my path.

Damn it!

Ushers!!! Why are they always getting in my way?

I contemplate carrying out some evasive maneuvers and plunking myself down on my seat of choice. Its not like she can’t forcibly remove me from the seat or can she?

I give her the once over…She looks hard and I haven’t eaten today. So I decided not to try her and do the next best thing…Lie

“Sorry... That’s my brother. He’s holding the sit for me.” I say, giving her my best “God fearing sister” look

God forgive me. God forgive me. God forgive me. God forgive me. God forgive me.

Oh no! Alligator Heels has beaten me to it.

She gives me a smug look as she comes in under the usher radar on the opposite side; sidling past other people on the row to plunk herself next to him. The hussy has already even pretended to drop her bible and now she’s giggling as he hands it back to her.

The girl is not even smooth. That’s sooooo been done.

Bad bele!

Wo’eva

“Are you sure that’s your brother?” Asks the usher looking quizzically at me

Kilode?! Na you get monopoly on brothers or what?

“Seems to have let your seat go. Boys will be boys huh?” she says laughing

Hissss….Komot for road my friend. Enemy of romantic progress.

I seat down on the row she indicted earlier and I’m already distressed as the guy seating next to me with the Kid and Play haircut circa 1980, feels the need to introduce himself. I immediately pretend to be deep in prayer to avoid further conversation. To make matters worse; I’m going to be smack bang in the middle of the pastor’s line of sight. I hate being too close to the podium. I’m always scared pastors can read my thoughts and they can see the sin just radiating off my body. Now I’ll actually have to listen instead of fantasizing about what I would buy if God rewards me for paying my tithes by leaving money on the road for me to find.

The choir finally stops singing and I can hear the pastor saying “Hello” so I figure it’s safe to open my eyes. Highly unlikely the chap sitting next to me will engage in convo during the sermon. So I raise my head and look up into the most mesmerizing pair of eyes I’ve ever seen.

Haaaa!!! What have I been doing in church all these months? How come I never noticed how cute the pastor was? I really must stop sitting so far back.

He‘s preaching and staring straight at me like we’re the only 2 people in the room.

Errrr…I think you’ll find he’s staring into the camera right above your head and not you.

Shut it Brain.

Can’t you see?! This isn’t a coincidence. Everything that’s been happening has led us to this point in time when I would come face to face with my destiny.

OK you’re talking crazy now or should I say crazier than usual. Your blood sugar must be low…Eat some gum.

Sod the gum. I’m busy listening to the man who’s going make my mama’s dreams come true.

I can hardly contain my excitement. My sis Annoying Married Chick goes to the same church and she did say she would be here for evening service. I look around but I don’t see her, so I decide to send her a bb message.

MENA: Hey sis just had a revelation. I’ve been so blind. What I’ve been looking for has been right under my nose all this time. God was just waiting for me to make a stronger commitment to my spiritual side.

AMC: Stop bbing in church you sinner. What are you on about? What stronger commitment?

MENA: Coming to mid week service.

AMC: Hisss…You’ve come to one mid-week service. Big deal. Your mates are shaving their heads and sleeping in church.

MENA: Wo'eva. God has revealed my man to me.

AMC: *Yawn* Who? The badly dressed man you and your over bleached sister in asewo behavior were running to go and sit next to? You think I didn’t see you? You’re just an embarrassment. Thank God I’ve changed my last name.

MENA: Pleeeeeeaassse *Eyes Rolling*. She can have him. The pastor is in a whole different league*Love Struck*

AMC: Sorry did you say the pastor? That’s your God sent man?

MENA: Yep *Big Smile*

AMC: *Surprise*

All of a sudden my bbing and the pastor’s sermon is cut short by the sound of hysterical laughter coming from the back of the church. I can see ushers rushing over but whoever it is can’t seem to stop laughing. Next thing I know, I see my sister - Annoying Married Chick, practically being carried out of the church cause she’s laughing so hard she can hardly stand.

Philistine! Can you imagine being so frivolous in the house of God? The girl obviously has brain touch. Thank God she does have a different last name. Not sure the church council would approve of such inappropriate family members when I'm presented as the soon to be Mrs.Pastor.

What could have been so funny anyway?

Hmmm...Not you again dude.

2011-09-29T16:42:00.000+01:00

After my recent case of mistaken identity I decided to change my look. You know...Make myself appear even more expensive than I usually do. I know you’re all wondering how this is even possible considering the fact that I'm more or less perfect? Well, I decided to treat myself to a new head of hair.

28 inches of ass skimming, bouncy South American hair to be exact. Shaved from the heads pure virgin nuns from a convent in the middle of the Amazon. Believe me, the hair fine no be small. The fact that I bought it with the diesel money my mother left for the house, while she's off finding herself in Ibiza is irrelevant; and so is the fact that I am now living in perpetual darkness. Candle light was fine for my fore-fathers so it’s good enough for me.

However, before my re-invention I decided to send my new locks for a good ol’ wash. Pure virgin nuns or not, I ain't putting anyone else’s hair on my head till it’s been washed with a bottle of my mother’s industrial strength holy water.

So here I am sitting at work, ignoring the mountain of files on my desk, as I eagerly await my drivers return with my satin bag full of hair...Hooray!!!

Boli Lover, who has lost vast amounts of weight from a severe case of food poisoning, is trying to engage me in flirty banter. He’s talking but I ain’t listening. I’m eyeing his now flat tummy with envy. He’s managed to achieve in 2 weeks what months of dieting have failed to do for me. I consider snogging him in the hope of contracting some “Make you skinny but won’t kill you” virus but even the lure of a flat tummy isn’t enough to encourage physical contact with the man.

Ijebu Chick claims to have read an article about how drinking your own pee makes you skinny. We both laughed and said “God forbid” but I don’t trust her. We’re both rather competitive about the whole diet thing and I just bet she’s bottling her own pee and making cocktails out of it as we speak. She’ll probably turn up in December looking sexily emaciated. The back stabbing cow.

I eye the empty mug from my morning coffee and glance casually towards the ladies. Its practically water isn’t it? I mean how bad can it taste?

Only one way to find out blubber gut. Go on...Drink a lil’ peepee.

I’m gonna do it dammit!

Attagirl!

I push back my chair, grab my mug and just as I’m about to head to the loo, I see Mr Fortune, my driver, heading towards me.

Phew! Saved from my own stupidity.

Chicken!

Cluck off Brain!

In order to maintain the madam/driver relationship, I resist the urge to hug him as he strolls in. Instead I dig deep and give him some money for his trouble. He eyes my N100.00 tip and dumps the bag of precious hair on my desk in disgust.

Infidel! I miss the good old days when you could have people drawn and quartered for less.

I open up the bag to make sure my hair smelt salon fresh and my heart suddenly developed an irregular rhythm.

Ahhhhh!!!! What is this?

I immediately pick up the phone and call my hairdresser.

No answer.

So I fire off a text...

Floooooooooooooooooooooorencceee! You have started your madness again abi?

What is dis U have sent through Mr. Fortune?

I refuse to believe this limp, matted thing that looks like shaved hair from a gorilla’s armpit is d Brazilian weave I left for u 2 wash?

N’gba....it cannot be. For ur sake I hope u have given me d wrong bag by mistake. I’m sending my driver back 2 your salon now with MOPO. If I should receive a call from either of them that u have refused 2 handover 28 inches of soft, premium quality human hair, u will know today that it is possible to squeeze a human being of your hefty proportions into a “Ghana must go” bag and suspend them from a street light over third mainland bridge. With that your oversized ikebe it is unlikely that you will stay suspended for long; so after you come crashing down and ur run over by a BRT bus, you will know that Fashola is truly working. Don’t try me o!

Send.

Delivered.

I immediately dispatch Mr. Fortune back to the hairdressers with instructions to stop by my place and pick up a MOPO. He is instructed not to return until my hair has been retrieved either through peaceful or truncheon bashing means. Nonsense girl. Trying to kill me for my mama. No one kidnaps my hair and gets away with it.

My phone beeps.

I assume its Florence, who after receiving my text has seen the error of her ways and is responding to apologise for the mix up.

Hi, it’s been a while. Sure you’ve forgotten all about me. I ran into a mutual friend who gave me your number. I’m in town and would love to see you again. We really need to talk. Give me a shout. Hmmmm Dude.

“Blood of Jesus!” I scream as I chuck the phone across the room hitting Boli Lover square in the face.

“My face” he yells

“Oh God! My nose! This is blood abi? Look now its blood. You’ve broken my nose you crazy woman.”

I ignore his screaming. A small crowd is starting to gather round his desk as I make a break for the ladies.

Oh Lord! I can’t breathe. What the hells going on?

Ahhhh!!! My enemies. First my temptress curls are kidnapped by my shuku rocking hairdresser and now my jazz wielding friend with almost benefits turns up out of the blue...4 years later!

Who have I offended o?!

How the hell did he find me? Which evil so called mutual friend would do this to me?

And what the hell does he want now?

For those of you wondering who the hell Hmmm Dude is and why I’m so frazzled? He’s the pork dumpling seducer from my earlier post -"You did What?!" in 2007. I can't think straight right now. I need to go home and have a holy water bath with back to sender soap cause something sinister is afoot in Mena's tranquil world.

Just Cruising

2011-09-14T14:17:00.000+01:00

You are all probably expecting an explanation for my long absence but we don't have time for all that. I've got stuff to get off my chest.

The other day I was cruising along…yes I drive now.

Would hardly call what you do driving. More like…

Shut it Brain! Was I talking to you?

Do I not know how to start the car?

Well yes…

Does it not move when I press the thingy-ma-jig under my feet?

Yes but…

Do we not eventually reach our destination with minimal damage to both human life and private property?

You ran over an okada

Hisss… Must you always bring that up? He was in my way jo. The hairdressers were closing in 10 minutes and there was no way in hell I was going out without a quick touch up to my new Guatemalan weave (Like who knew Guatemalans had covetable hair?)

You ran him off the road and then reversed over his bike.

Look! I honked and he wouldn’t move, so I just nudged him a little so I could get past.

Your little nudge flung him off his bike and into a gutter.

Jeez… All this drama. Like gutter water ever killed anybody.

Did I not stop to see if he was alive and wanted to swap insurance details? And I might have rolled over his bike a few times but that was only because the ungrateful man called me a blind pot bellied monkey in Yoruba dammit! No one gets away with calling Mena that. I probably did him a favor by rolling out some of the dents on that death trap he calls a motorbike.

I don’t know why you’re worried about him? What about poor Consuela? My darling lil’Kia baby.

Lord! It’s a piece of Japanese metal on wheels woman.

Hush your mouth you evil thing. How dare you say such things about Consuela?

My baby got her paintwork all scratched trying to get away from the okada guy and his tyre wielding lynch mob. Honestly you have a slight traffic incident and suddenly everyone wants to do a “Joan of Arc” on you.

Why are we even talking about this? You’re making me digress from the main point of this post. Zip it and let me get on with it. Always trying to make me look bad, when I’m just a decent human being who can’t afford therapy.

Anyhoo…I was driving the other day, doing a respectable 80 mph down Adeola Odeku when the annoying traffic lights decided to change. Naturally as a law abiding citizen it would have been improper to endanger other motorists by coming to a screeching halt; so I decided to be selfless and whizz straight through. After putting my life on the line for others you can imagine my surprise when I glanced into my rearview mirror to find myself being chased by a hungry looking LASTMA official on an okada.

My first thought was “What the f…”?! Do the world a favor and what do you get? The next was “Hooray!”… I’ve always wanted to be involved in a high speed car chase; like Thelma and Louise but without the suicidal tendencies. So I rev up my engine for effect and speed off leaving the okada in my dust. I take a few side streets for good measure and zoom round the corner onto Ozumba Mbadiwe…

…Straight into the back of a Range Rover Sport in standstill traffic.

Jesu! Which kin country be this? Can a woman no longer engage in dangerous stunts on a public freeway in order to evade the law? Oh what to do? WHAT TO DOOOO??!!!! Whoever owns this car is going to sue my Marks and Spencer heart print granny knickers right off me.

Judging by the personalized plates, the name stitched unto his polo shirt and the huge identity bracelet on his wrist; the guy getting out of the Jeep with a face like thunder was Lami. Hmm…not bad. Sessy and me no see no ring. Obviously a tad obsessed with personalizing everything he owns but hey! Who am I to begrudge another fellow human being some self love?

How can you think about men at a time like this?

What do you mean? Is there an inappropriate time to think about men? Especially buff ones that drive Jeeps?

Err…yeah! Right now!

Just chillax and watch the master at work. We ain't paying a dime.

As Lami walks up to my window, I figure the best way to handle the situation is to disarm him with my awesome personality. So I lower my window, flutter my MAC augmented lashes and say

“Lami right? I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what happened”

He backs away in shock, his eyes darting around in panic. I swear the guy broke out in a cold sweat.

"I don’t know you. How do you know my name?"

Errrr…You're practically a working sign board for yourself mate. Lami obviously ain’t too bright but jeep and good looks cross out stupidity in my book so we won’t judge him too harshly.

Before I could get out of the car and assure Lami I wasn’t a modern day Kai driving witch, he rushes up to me and pushes my door closed.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" I yell

"You’re one of the girls from Fantasy Bar aren’t you? I recognize you…Booby Baby right?"

Ori re ko pe? Ta ni Booby Baby?

"Look, my fiancé is in the car and naturally she can't know about our little get togethers. So lets just keep it between us yeah? We can forget about the car and I’ll see you right later. You know what I’m saying?"

He then proceeds to chuck me on the shoulder and wink at me.

All through this I’m speechless. The only thing on my mind is I have a look like and she’s a garden tool called Booby Baby. So this is why strange men keep trying to stick things down my cleavage in supermarkets. I’m too weak to even defend myself, I simply raise my automated windows, narrowly missing Lami the perv's fingers.

I start my car and just as I’m about to inch my way forward and nudge Lami’s rear bumper to make myself feel better, I hear a knock on my passenger side window... It’s the LASTMA guy.

How the hell did he find me?!

“Madam wine down. Wine down now, now!”

Can today get any worse?

I don't have time for this now.

I must find this so called "Fantasy Bar" and confront this menace to my reputation at once.

So fess up...Who knows where it is?

Teacher can I be your pet? 2

2011-02-23T13:57:00.001Z

BB Convo Participants … Mena, Annoying Married Chick and Iyawo Peanut Boy

Mena: Hi guys. Guess what? I’m stuck in training all day.

AMC: We don’t care. Abi did we tell u we wanted to c u? Just had breakfast and still hungry. Think I’m going to make jollof rice so bugger off.

Mena: Charming as always sister dearest. I see pregnancy hasn’t improved your surly attitude.

AMC: *Raspberry*

Mena: Ireti. Anyway u’ll never guess what just happened?

AMC: Don’t care. Need food. Need light. Need to live on the island *Crying*

IPB: I care. Tell me all. I am eager and ready to listen as I’m channeling tranquil vibes and I’m at peace with the universe *Big Smile*

My family members sure know how to pick em. Like we’re not crazy enough on our own; we have to marry and breed with other loopy people.

Mena: Hey IPB. Was just about to tell sis here that the trainer on my course is pretty darn cute. At least he was until I saw him picking his nose. Have totally lost interest now.

AMC: Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Where do you find all these dodgy blokes from? You better run before you discover he eats his toe nail clippings too or even worse he likes to watch YOU eat them before he can play mummies and daddies…hahahahahahahahahaha

Mena: You have brain touch AMC. Please stop talking trash around my unborn niece/nephew

IPB: Am I missing something here? Unless he actually ate the bogey after picking his nose, then I don’t see the problem. Men are like puppies, they can be trained to behave appropriately in polite company.

AMC: Train wetin? I beg Mena don’t listen to her. Such men cannot be trained and even if you could make him to behave in public, you just know some perky breasted, twenty something year old will now see his potential and steal him off you.

IPB: AMMMMCCCCCCCCC! I’m really not impressed with the negative vibes you’re bringing into this chat. I think we should take a moment to cleanse the air by sending each other loving comments. I’ll start…I think I’m very lucky to be surrounded by women who are beautiful both outside and in *Hug*

AMC: Kiss my arse *Raspberry*

Mena: Ladies please! Now let’s all be civil. AMC you’re being a tad melodramatic. I think IPB is right. He’s too hot to let a lil’ thing like unsanitary habits get in the way of true love. I shall mould him into my dream man.

AMC: Afi mould. IPB my sister is no spring chicken and does not have the time to be doing an Eliza Doolittle on razz boys. Mena you better close your eyes and marry him like that. At your advanced stage in life you don’t have time to be picky. The only deal breaker would be skid marks and if you’re a good Christian girl like you claim, you will not discover those until after it’s too late…hahahahahahahaha

IPB: Mena ignore her. You might not be young and perky anymore but you don’t have to sell yourself short.

Mena: Wow IPB! Thanks. Just what every woman wants to hear *Sarcy Face*

AMC: *ROTFL* I beg you people don’t kill me. All this laughing is making me want to pee.

Mena: I don’t know why I bother telling you lot anything. Go away jo. I’m going back to pretending to be interested in the training. I HATE U ALL!!!! *Raspberry*

IPB: You see what you’ve done AMC? You’ve upset her.

AMC: Me Ke? Miss Congeniality 2007 at NYSC camp. I don’t think so. I think it’s your reference to age and drooping body parts that has upset her.

IPB: Mena are you still there? Don’t be mad. I apologise for both AMC and myself.

AMC: Speak for yourself o. I haven’t done anything. Only telling the truth. Tick, tock…

Mena: What’s your point exactly? That just because I’m somewhere in my early 30’s I need to marry whatever frog comes my way?

IPB: Early 30's???? Sister please!!!!!

AMC: Pretty much. Men are scarce. Get what you can…Bogey eater or not.

IPB: Well not any frog. We draw the line at potential wife beaters, okada drivers and people who already have wives. Everyone else is game *Big Smile*

Mena: I rebuke such. I have a list of wants and I intend to stick to them.

AMC: *Sigh* I’ve heard your wants and let me just tell you that you go wait tire.

Mena: *Talk to the hand*

IPB: Look Mena, the sad reality is the guys your age want to marry twenty year olds and the ones older than you are all already married. So we need to put things into perspective. You were obviously initially attracted to him so forget his dodgy etiquette skills for a minute and get to know him better. You might find you can live with the annoying quirks.

AMC: She get choice? Look you’re starting to embarrass the family. Just lure one home already will ya?

IPB: Hey are you still there?

PING!

No! I’m not there actually because while all this frantic bbing has been going on, Tall Drink of Chocolate has moved from his perch at the back of the class and was now pulling up a chair to sit beside me.

“You’re not paying attention” he says looking at my bb and then back at me with a smile.

“I am. I’m multi-tasking” I say with a giggle, fluttering my eyelashes.

He’s gorge and he doesn’t have a local accent. So what if he likes to stick his finger up his hooter? No ones perfect.

Forget the local accent. He just touched our arm. HE’S FLIRTING WITH US MENA. PRAISE THE LORD! Our first flirt of 2011. If he’s remotely attracted to us without make up, I say he’s a keeper.

Calm down Brain lets not be too hasty. But I do think you’re right.

For the next couple of hours Tall Drink of Chocolate kept going back and forth between me and the rest of the class. By the end of the course I’d discovered that he’d lived in the Middle East for a couple of years but was thinking of coming back to Las Gidi…Result.

He hasn’t mentioned any wife, kids, serious relationships but I guess Strategic Training isn’t the place for that especially since all he’s done is flirt. A serious offer of intent is yet to be made.

As I slowly walked towards him to say goodbye, I hoped and I prayed that he would give me some sort of sign that he was into me.

He did…A little white card with his number and the 4 little words every girl longs to hear “Make sure you call.”

Teacher can I be your pet?

2011-02-23T09:36:00.001Z

Hey! Whys the alarm going off?

Its Saturday dammit!

I’m going back to sleep jo. I was having a lovely dream about being president and my main edict was to have everyone become fatter than me. Yep! No one was allowed to be slimmer than Her Excellency, Presidentess Mena. Everyone must be at least a size 16 and above. And also, no one could have longer hair, a bigger car or appear to be more intelligent than me in any way.

Yes! A nation of obese, thick, bald headed Picanto driving, hut dwellers is the future. I must go back to sleep immediately and see if I can continue my fantasy reign.

No we can’t Mena. We having training remember?

Training ke?

Oh yeah. I remember now. Sodding HR with their various torture tactics. Who the hell arranges training for a Saturday? I’m sure they are infringing on my civil rights. I will complain to my local government councilor as soon as I figure out who it is. Strategic Relationship Management indeed. I mean do I look like I need to be taught how to strategically manage a relationship?

Well …

Shut up

But…

I said shut up. I don’t want to hear any of your random thoughts Brain. I want to sleep, so I suggest you start making it happen. Now start humming my favorite lullaby.

Mo ri omoge to rewa to duro shepe shepe figure 8 shepe shepe figure 8
Orombo aya re o dun ji osan lo

Olomoge dance with your chest,
Dig it right, dig it left o ya oya were were Ki a mosa
Jowo dance with your chest

Ah! Yes. Nothing like some old school Shina P. Don't know what J.Holiday is on about but this is the only thing that puts me to bed.

Training ko, training ni. I’m knackered. Had my first session with the Terminator yesterday and I swear even my teeth hurt. The man is brutal; my mother collapsed after the first 15 minutes and had to be dragged by her feet back into the house. Don’t know why the woman likes to deceive herself. She and her ample behind should just sit somewhere and accept their destiny. I on the other hand did not have the luxury of feigning unconsciousness. Every time I thought about quitting, the image of my 50K check going into Terminator's pocket would revive me. So excuse me if I don’t feel like jumping out of bed to hang out with my irritating ibi ise people on the weekend.

Brain!!! Why have you stopped singing and why are my eyes still open?

Mena, you know we’ll get into trouble if we don’t go?

So?

Well, we might hate them all but we still need to eat until one of your hare brained…I mean awesome schemes makes us rich.

OOOHHHHHHHH!!!!! I’m tired and I was planning to pamper myself today. Get my hair and my nails did. Pluck the caterpillars that were once my eyebrows. It was going to be a “ME” day Brain.

Boo Hooo!!!!

There, there. Don’t worry you just get through the training and then we can go to the Palms and laugh at all the girls who are inappropriately dressed for the cinema.

Sniff…Really? That would be fun.

OK, I’ll go but the minute anyone mentions the word “Role play” we’re faking a seizure and getting outta there.

Deal.

Arrggghhh!!! Knew I shouldn’t have come. Ladies Man has already plonked himself next to me in the training room. He must think he looks very sexy in his t-shirt, medallion and ripped jeans combo. I beg move your Ricky Martin looking self away from my side jo. Nonsense.

This people need to get a move on. The session was meant to start at 9.30am. It’s now 10am and I’m being forced to have conversation with my work colleagues; someone will pay dearly for this.

Finally Trainer Chappy walks in apologizing profusely for being late.

Yeah wo’eva mate. Just switch on the projector and do your traini…

Aye Caramba!!!!!

Brain I hear you o. Who be this?

Walking in right behind Trainer Chappy was a tall, dark, muscular drink of chocolate milk. Dressed in a casual black shirt, jeans and the latest edition leather converse sneakers…I know I say this a lot but this time I mean it…I think I’m in love.

Trainer Chappy introduces him as a colleague from the Middle East who’s here to help with certain aspects of the day. I’m suddenly geared up and ready to learn. Why the hell am I not wearing make up???!!!!!

Tall Drink of Chocolate's gaze glides over the room as he says “Hello” and our eyes finally meet. His gaze remains on me a second longer than expected and my heart skips a beat. He gives me a cheeky grin and heads to the back of the class to sit down.

It takes every ounce of will power I have not to chase after him, tackle him to the ground and demand that he makes me Mrs. Tall Drink of Chocolate immediately.

Mena, we shall remain calm and lady like.

I tried. I didn't look back during the first 30 minutes of the class. I pretend to be listening to what Trainer Chappy is saying but in actual fact I’m trying to see if I can spot my new heart throb in the reflective surface of the projection screen. Nada! I can’t take it any more! I'm going to have to turn round and sneak a peek.

Awww…Still as lovely as ever, gazing intently into his computer screen. He's got little flecks of grey in his hair…very sexy. His hand slowly goes up to his face, probably to stroke his nicely trimmed goatee and then …Ewwww!

The dirty beast just stuck his finger up his nose and is having a good ol’ dig around. THEN he proceeds to wipe afore mentioned finger on a hanky.

Olodo! If you had a hanky why didn’t you use it in the first place??? What do you think they are for?

I despair at the caliber of men that constantly cross my path.

I immediately bb Annoying Married Chick and my sis in-law Iyawo Peanut Boy to inform them of my latest romantic disappointment and you’ll never believe what the two wicked sisters said to me…

The Terminator comes to town

2011-02-17T14:47:00.001Z

The Terminator is supposed to be some miracle working, personal trainer that everyone is raving about. I got his number from Bunnylicious newly buff hubby, who warned me that the guy was brutal. He apparently costs 50K a month…There goes my monthly ice cream budget( It’s not my fault I have expensive tastes in dairy products). Anyway I figure it would be worth giving up Hagen-Daz Tuesdays, Wednesday and Saturday’s for a new slinky body. So all fired up, I call the Terminator to book my first appointment.

Damn! It’s an answering machine.

“This is the Terminator. Having problems with your weight? Constant battles with food? Can’t motivate yourself to exercise?

Wow, this guy reading our mind Brain and he sounds sexy too. American drawl, not the razzo I was expecting.

Well calling me was the right thing to do because you’re obviously a LAZY, FAT BASTARD! …

Ah ah! Wetin happen? Na fight?

GET UP SLACKER! ITS TIME TO FEEL THE BURN! YOU WILL NOT BE A ROLLING TUB OF LARD IN LAS GIDI ON MY WATCH…

Mena hang up. I’m scared.

I’m scared too Brain. Why is he shouting at his potential customers?

… FAT IS YOUR ENEAMY AND WE MUST ANNIHILATE THE ENEAMY. GIVE YOURSELF OVER TO THE TERMINATOR AND I WILL MOULD YOU INTO A LEAN, MEAN, FAT KILLING MACHINE. Now leave your name and number and I’ll call you back. Till then, say it with me …FAT IS THE ENEMY! WE MUST ANNIHILATE THE ENEMY!

Beep.

God forbid. I ain’t leaving my details with him.

That’s right Mena. Don’t do it. He sounds like Genghis Khan on skunk. We’ll go back on our groundnut diet and everything will be cool.

You’re right Brain.

Err.. sorry Terminator wrong number.

Click

Phew that was a close one. Come on Brain lets go finish off the tub of ice-cream in the freezer to celebrate what could have been a disastrous venture.

5 minutes later I’m snuggled up in bed with my tub of milky love about to watch Top Chef and …

Rrrriiiiinnnnng

Darn it! Who’s calling me now?

“Hello”

“This the Terminator. You rang” says a deep, masculine voice

Darn caller id. Its OK. We can wiggle out of this.

“Really?! Sorry must have dialed the wrong number.” I say

“Don’t lie to me lady and put down the food.” he responds

Jesus! I said looking around to make sure he hadn’t magically appeared in bed with me.

“How did you know I was eating?” I asked

“I’m the Terminator. I know everything. Now give me your address and be ready and waiting for me at 6am tomorrow morning. Wear nothing but tight Lycra leggings, a sports bra and vest.”

Warrup joker? You put jazz for mouth?

“But I don’t want you to come to my house at 6am and more importantly, I don’t do Lycra.”

“You don’t know what you want Lady.”

“I don’t?” I ask puzzled.

“No you don’t. You want a strong man to mould you into the woman you were meant to be, don’t you.”

“Moulding? Hmmm…Would that involve the strong man touching the aforementioned woman?

Mena resist. He’s using some kind of mind mumbo jumbo on us.

Now, now Brain. Let’s not be hasty. Let’s hear what our friendly neighborhood personal trainer has to say first.

“Don’t worry its all one on one contact. This journey is going to be about developing a trusting and fulfilling relationship between me and you in order to reach our ultimate goal.” He says sexily down the phone.

Yepa! It’s kinda hot in here o; abi nah sessy American drawl dey do me? I don’t know about you Brain but this is probably the only one on one relationship I’m having with a man anytime soon, so sign me up to be Terminated. And before you can say "Arnold Schwarzenegger" I’m reeling off my address and agreeing to tight Lycra.

Now, where the hell am I supposed to find a tight Lycra gym bunny outfit at 10pm at night?

I’ll have to see if my mother has something lurking around in her winter holiday wardrobe.

“Muuuummmmmmy” I whine as I drag myself into her room and flop on the bed.

“What do you want?” she snaps.

Charming as ever.

“Do you have a pair of lycra leggings?”

“What colour?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes” she says getting off of the bed and throwing open one of her wardrobes to reveal a shelf of multicolored Lycra heaven.

“Mummy why do you have so many pairs of leggings?!” I exclaim

“Your father likes us to have Disco Fever Night every once in a while.”

Ask a stupid question… Of course that’s what they’re for.

Crazy woman. If she thinks I’m going to give her the opportunity to traumatize me by asking what Disco Fever Night is; she’s got another thing coming. Not interested.

“I just need a black pair mum.”

“What for? You do know it will be tight for you don’t you?” She says giving me a ‘Respect yourself’ look.

“Yeah I know but my trainer says he wants tight.”

“Trainer? Really? That’s interesting. Been thinking about getting myself one “she says proceeding to do some star jumps.

Agbaya. Showing off to her own daughter.

“Maybe we should share?”

Share wetin? Nooooo! Everybody should go and look for their own trainer. Only agreeing to cough up 50K because of the ‘One on One’ moulding sessions. This woman now wants to come and spoil my show.

“I don’t think you could handle the pace mum. Its going to be pretty intense and no offence but you ain't no spring chicken.”

‘Owww!!! Mum you promised no violence in the New Year. You swore on the Bible now!”

“Me I can’t handle the pace en? You that you need oxygen every time you climb up the stairs are telling me; All star track champion 4 years in a row at Queen Amina of Zaria school for young ladies, Ilorin; that I cant handle the pace?”

Wo’eva. That was like 100 years ago woman. I beg lets hear word.

“We shall see!” she says dropping to the floor to do one arm push ups.

What the…! Darn this woman is freaky strong. No wonder her slaps hurt so much.

Definitely keeping her away from Terminator so she doesn’t upstage me.

Here comes the bride. All fat and wide…

2011-02-17T11:06:00.001Z

I promised myself there would be no blogging this year.

I was going to start living and quit chipping my nail polish on my keyboard entertaining you guys. No more moaning about my non-existent love life, my badly paid job and my annoying “Wish I could sell them for a stick of gum” family. This year was going to be all about me getting out there and being a whirling dervish of activity and fun.

Well, as you can see that New Year resolution has so far only lasted 48 days. That’s a record for me actually as I usually don’t get past the 1^st week of whatever diet, don’t curse people 10 step plan etc. that I’m on. And do you want to know the reason why this new life is still yet to materialize?

Huh?

Do you?

I don’t think there’s anybody here Mena. I told you they’d all leave if you didn’t update your blog.

Shut it Brain! Of course they’re here; cause if they weren’t that would mean we were talking to ourselves and normal people don’t talk to themselves now do they?

Errr…you’re talking to me. A grey lump of tissue in your head.

What’s your point?

Nothing! You’re right. Please do carry on.

Hey stop that!

What?

I can hear you humming Cypress Hill’s ‘Insane in the membrane’. Bloody ungrateful organ.

Anyhoo! You people still pretending not to be there? You sulking because I left you all high and dry for the last couple of months? Oya no vex. It was the devil. I will not do it again. Until I can afford a lifestyle coach who will help me mend my evil ways you people are my moral compass. So for the safety of the general public you can’t abandon me.

Shioooooo…Na deliverance not moral compass you need.

Wo’eva just shut up and listen. I really do have to start vetting the caliber of people that come in here.

It all started when I went to church…

Ennn …no wonder your life is in chaos. You mean you are just entering church for the first time? I’m surprised the building didn’t collapse on you or the fiery chasms of hell open up under your feet, turning you to…

IF YOU WOULD LET ME FINISH!!!!!

You’re shouting at the moral compass? It’s not your fault.

As I was saying …Went to church on the first Sunday of the month. Even if I miss church on the odd occasion, never miss first Sunday’s for anything cause that’s when all the hotties who cant drag themselves to church for the rest of the month make the effort to turn up. So I’m usually there with my eagle eye checking out potential singles in need of saving. Well this Sunday was different because I was actually being distracted by…THE SERMON! Go figure. Who would have thought it?

See this hell bound child? The sermon was distracting you from mentally undressing innocent men in church?

Ignoring you. If they don’t want to be mentally undressed they shouldn’t turn up looking all good and smelling all yummy. I have fought with those meddling ushers on many occasions when they try to wield their power by forcing me to sit next to some undesirable element. If I want to sit next to the hottie in the tight T and butt hugging jeans, I should be allowed abi? I suspect they do it on purpose to keep the hotties to themselves. Selfish cows. They don't want me to marry and then they will say they are my Christian sisters.

Anyway I digress…The sermon was all about being prepared to receive what you’re asking God for. As the pastor preached, it occurred to me that I was praying for all these things and I wasn’t even sure if I was adequately prepared to receive them. It’s like praying for this season's Jimmy Choo Lance sandals when you’ve got inoperable bunions. You’re not capable of doing those bad boys justice with your gnarly feet so why bother asking for a pair?

There I was praying for Mr. Right when an abundance of Christmas cheer meant that my tummy was sitting on my lap and I was blinded by my fat cheeks every time I smiled. All my married life fantasies have me prancing round the house half naked in sheer, barely there outfits that cost the GDP of a small African country. How was this and all the piggy back rides to the kitchen to make caviar omelets for breakfast ever going to happen if I was the size of Moby Dick? And let’s not even consider the bodily harm I might do to both him and myself should the new and improved Karma Sutra manual I have ear marked as a bridal shower pressie ever get unwrapped.

It was like being struck by lightening. I jumped to my feet; my Bill Blass leather satchel came crashing to the floor and the woman next to me, thinking I was having a spirit induced vision started shouting

“Speak to us sister. Share the message!”

I snatched my bag off the floor turned to her and said…

“Go find your own damn revelation sister.This one's mine” and then tottered out of the service in my way too high Cavalli sling backs.

In the safety of my car I whipped out my phone and called the one person who understood the allure of frothy lace, naked twister and yet still appreciates the yumminess of a butter cream cupcake…Bunnylicious.

“Bunny!!!!” I screamed down the phone when she answered.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” she asked

“Oh Bunny it’s too awful” I wailed.

“Oh my God. Don’t tell me it’s finally happened?”

“Yes it has”…Boo hoo!

“La Perla has gone into recession?!!!!!” she screamed

“Noooo!!!! Will you focus on something other than your lampashing life for five seconds?” I yelled back.

Geez! I really should consider giving her stint in a sex addiction clinic for her next birthday.

“Phew! That was a close one. Thought I would actually have to start letting my husband have his way round the house.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually he wants something a certain way and I flash him some lace and presto…The bedroom is pink; we’re going to Paris instead of Ibiza for the summer; I have a walk in wardrobe and he has a table in the hallway for his study. Nuff said. If La Perla shuts down we might need counseling.”

Hmmm…The crazy ashawo might be on to something here. Nevertheless…

“Look can we come back to me please?”

“Yeah sure sweetie what’s the matter?” she asked

“I now know why Mr. Right hasn’t found me.”

“Really? Pray do tell.”

“He hasn’t found me because he can’t recognize me. The fat has hidden my true identity.God has shown him a vision of ethereal, slinky beauty and every time our paths cross he sees Jumbo the elephant. The poor man is obviously confused. ”

Boo Hoo!

“Lord! Not this malarkey again” she says sighing down the phone.

En! E mi malarkey?

“What did you just say to me? And did you just sigh?” I asked.

“I SAID NOT THIS MALARKEY AGAIN! STOP CALLING ME TO MOAN ABOUT YOUR FATTY BUM BUM IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!”

I don't believe it. Brain! Wake up! Bunnylicious is shouting at me. We must think of a suitable response to annihilate her with. The cheeky so and so is about to get the verbal trashing of her life. Here goes…

“Why are you shouting at meeeeeeee….Ahhhhhh aaaahhhh....Sooooooobbbbbbbbb!!!!! It’s not my fault I'm a fatty bum bum...”

Snotty sniffing.

“...It’s the genes.”

What the...Brain! Why am I blubbering like a fool? Is this the verbal Hiroshima I asked for?

Dunno

“Look stop crying. I didn’t mean to shout at you. Been reading this book on tough love and I think it’s getting to me. But you know I'm right? You have to do something.”

“Yes. I know." I said sulkily

“So how about you join the gym? Or get a trainer? My boo has a trainer and I must say he’s looking very buff these days. I mean the other day we were going out and he put on this t-shirt and I swear my heart just went pitter patt…”

Click

Shioooo…Shout at me would she? When will she learn that’s it all about me and not her and her dry kinky gist? Afi pitter patter. She better go and see a specialist to make sure it’s not a heart condition. But she did have a point. I should do something about it and the personal trainer sounds like a plan.

The car made me do it.

2010-11-22T13:45:00.001Z

Mena!

Shhhh...Must you whisper so loudly?

Sorry.

Sorry for yourself gbeboruns. What part of my mother must not find me did you not get? Please don’t use your need for gist to spoil my own.

We’ve said sorry now. O ya tell us what happened.

Well, after deciding on my strategy, I put my plan into motion. I lured my mama into a false sense of security by snuggling up with her and having a Walton family moment. I pretended to enjoy Tinsel for 15 minutes and then I told her I was going to go for a brisk stroll round the block and check on the car to make sure it was all ready to go.

And the idea of you strolling briskly anywhere didn't get her alarm bells ringing?

Unlike you lot, she trusts me...Most of the time anyway.

My mother beamed at me and said...

“I’m so proud of you Mena. You’ve really grown up and I’m glad you’ve decided to take this situation in your stride. I love you darling.”

Huh? Did she just say the “L” word?

Ay Caramba! We’re going to hell!!!!

Shut it Brain! No ones going to hell. Well some people are but we aren’t. God understands we need to do this.

Really? Kind of missed the whole you can commit arson for personal gain part of the Bible. Anyway she said she loved us. She never says that. I want to be loved Mena. Let’s succumb to the love and drive the jalopy.

Hmmm…I did feel all warm and fuzzy inside but then I thought about the shame of having to drive that disaster to work on Monday and I hardened my heart.

I nipped outside and took a sneaky look around to make sure no one was watching. I then proceeded to spritz a generous amount of perfume on the worn foot mat, surrounding upholstery and attempted to start the car.

3 attempts later; all sweaty and out of breath, the bloody thing finally splutters into life. At this point I lit a match and dropped it on the foot mat and waited for the car to build up some smoke and maybe a few tiny flames. The plan was to run screaming into the house to tell my mother that as I tried to start the car, there was an almighty spark from the wiring dangling from beneath the steering wheel and I barely made it out of the car with my toes intact.

We would grab the fire extinguisher from the kitchen and put out the mini flames. She would realize she had almost lost her baby in a fiery ball of flames and she would immediately have the car scrapped and buy me my jeep. Ahhh yes! I’m a genius.

THAT’S YOUR INGENIOUS PLAN?! My five year old could come up with a better plan than that.

Well I’m not interested in what your snotty nosed, MENSA wannabe, 5 year old can do. So stop interrupting.

My lips are sealed. I can’t wait to see how this plan of your pans out.

Anyway, the damn foot mat just refused to catch fire. So I ended up pouring almost half a bottle of my Black Orchid by Tom Ford on it (Well worth the waste if my plan succeeds) but nada.

It’s a sign from God Mena. Let’s just forget about this and go inside and eat some Blue Bunny. You know how much you love Blue Bunny? We’ll slip into something comfortable, turn down the lights, turn the dial to Smooth FM and just have our naughty way with that tub of ice-cream.

Be quiet you food tramp. I’m trying to save us from a future of ridicule here. I don’t want to hear one more peep out of you.

I struck another match…

I don’t think you should …

BRAIN! BE QUIET!

I throw it into the car and I was just about to give up and go get some kerosene when there was an almighty bang and a ginormous fire ball comes out the car door, singeing off my eyebrows and knocking me to the ground. Is that burning weave I smell?

Naturally the noise and flames has everyone, including my mother, running outdoors, only to find me lying on the ground by the burning car with melted weave running down my face like tar and a box of matches in my hand.

Hmmm...This does not bode well for my future. Brain, maybe if we lay really, really still no one will notice how suspicious this all looks.

Brain?! Are you still there? Oh my God! Maybe the explosion has jarred something loose up there. I probably have only 70% brain function or something left.

I doubt you had that much to begin with you twisted fire starter.

Speak to me Brain! SPEAK TO MEEEEEEE!!!

Now you want to talk to me huh? When the sh.. hits the fan then you want to hear from good ol'Brain. Well kiss my grey matter. You want to know what do? Just jump in the burning car and end it all now. Believe me, it would be the humane thing to do because I’ve never seen your mother turn red before and is that a vein throbbing in her forehead? Yep! Ending your life in a fiery furnace would be a piece of cake compared to whatever she has in store for you. And for the record, I just want to say; a woman like you should not be allowed to roam the streets and thank God you didn’t have a chance to reproduce and populate the earth with more stupid people like yourself.

Ok, you can insult me all you want later. Right now we need to figure out a way to get out of here before mother loses interest in saving her Prado and the house.

So whilst everyone was focused on dousing out the flames (which weren’t as bad as the initial fire ball led us to believe), I snuck into my fathers study and I’ve been hiding under his desk ever since. I could hear my mother calling my name interjected with words and statements that the blogger people would never let me print.

I found some kola nut and a bottle of Peach schnapps in his desk drawer. I figure if I nibble on it sparingly I might be able to survive under here for a week, only leaving the safety of the desk for bathroom emergencies. Either that or I’ll get so drunk on the Peach Schnapps I wont even care if she finds me and drags me naked behind her Prado, through the streets of Lagos.

When bad cars make good people do bad things.

2010-11-18T10:38:00.002Z

Psssttt…Yes you! Come here.

Mena? Is that you?

No! Its Dolly Parton after a disastrous tanning booth accident. What the hell do you think Dumbo? You are reading Mena’s Blog aren’t you?

No need to be rude. Maybe if you weren’t hiding under a desk in the dark we might be able to recognize you. Speaking of which…Why are you under a desk in the dark?

Be quiet. You ask too many questions. Is there a law that says one is not allowed to chillax under ones desk in the middle of the night with the lights off? I didn't think so. Look stop slowing me down, this is going to be a very quick blog update. I’m in hiding from my mother and I’m scared that the sound of my frantic typing might be heard by her bat like ears and reveal my secret location in Daddy’s study.

What have you done now Mena?

Me???!!! Why does everyone always think stuff is my fault? I’m the injured party in this fiasco.

Really?! So how come you’re the one in hiding.

Errr…Cause my mothers crazy. You ever tried dealing with crazy? I know, why don’t you pop down to Akin Adesola Street and try to reason with the loony by the traffic lights about the fact that he’s causing an obstruction that could result in an accident and see if you come back with any ears. In other words, you can’t reason with crazy people. So it’s easier for me to stay in hiding until this whole thing blows over.

I’m sure you’re all wondering what happened? How did your great heroine,Mena,come to be in this position?

Well, after I was introduced to the metal harbinger of death, I tried to reason with my mother…

How could she expect me??!! A newbie driver, in the death race arena that is Lagos, to survive the aggression of other motorists in that flimsy excuse of a car?

That didn’t work.

What would her friends think if they saw me in that tin can? She had to consider the family rep.

She just yawned, scratched her bum and continued watching Real Housewives of Orange County.

The only men I would attract were mechanics looking to chat me up so they could get to the rare brake pads or whatever it is my antique automobile had lurking under its hood.

She paused momentarily at that and I could practically hear the metal wheels in her brain turning, trying to figure out if she was actually punishing me or herself by letting the eligible bachelors of Lagos see me in anything but the best.

Brain! I think we might be unto a winner here.

Don’t hold your breath missy. It’s your mother we’re talking about here. Remember when she chained herself to the gate on her birthday so your Dad couldn’t leave the house to go to his cousins funeral until she got her birthday present? She was there for 2 days, caught malaria and even had lizards nesting in her hair but that woman stood her ground. So I doubt your pathetic attempts at manipulation are going to work on her.

Thanks for the support Brain!

Eventually her mental cogs ground to a halt. She turned to look at me and said...

“You can only use the husband card so many times young lady. Anyway I have accepted the fact that I’m stuck with you. We all have our cross to bear. It will be nice to have one of my daughters living at home so when your Dad and I get too old to fend for ourselves you’ll be there to change the bed pans and stuff. So don’t stress yourself with the hubby thing anymore. There’s no GREAT shame in being a spinster. There’s a little but not a lot these days. Now please leave me alone I’m watching my show.”

Brain! Story don get k leg. Can she truly not be bothered by my lack of a potential hubby anymore? Can my one major bargaining chip be gone? We need to head to our room and regroup.

2 hours later…

Think Brain! Think! There has to be a way to get out of this.

Look I’m tired of thinking. I hurt and when are you going to eat some food dammit?! I need fuel to function. I’ve been sending signals to your tummy all afternoon or what did you think all the noises coming from down there were?

Gas?

That’s just charming. And what finishing school did you graduate from missy?

Look we don’t have time for bickering. We need to work together on this. Now focus.

By Samanja's moustache! I think I’ve got it.

Err…No! That’s not it. Lets keep thinking.

It is Brain. If there isn’t a car to drive she can’t make me drive it now can she? So we just need to get rid of the car.

I promise you, this isn’t a good plan. Let’s do some more begging or buy her some rhinestone lace or something.

It will work. You’ll see. Stop being such a chicken and let’s get to work.

So I went downstairs to my mum, knelt down in front of her and apologized for being such a spoilt brat and not appreciating the gift she had given me. I threw my head into her lap and forced myself to cry (It’s actually quiet easy. I make myself imagine what my life would have been like with the tribal marks my Dad wanted to give me when I was born and the tears of relief come flooding down). Yep! I gave the performance of my life. By the end of it my mother was stroking my hair and singing my oriki to me. Telling me we all had to start from somewhere and I should be patient, that my time would come in all things.

I actually felt pretty bad by the end of it.

But apparently not bad enough to call off your plan we see.

Wo’eva. Just because she was being mother-like for a change doesn’t mean she’s a reformed character. She backed me into a corner and I just did what I had to.

Devil daughter. God forgive you.

Story. That evening, operation Bye-bye Banger(BBB) commenced.

Back with a banger

2010-11-09T07:57:00.000Z

Warrup Peeps?!!

Miss me?

No?

The feeling is mutual losers.

Brain and I have just returned from a chillaxing holiday. Hence the lack of blog updates. Well that and the fact that the letter "A" has stopped working on my ibi ise laptop and so no one understands a word I write anymore. Shame you peasants have been stuck here in 100 degree heat. It’s a pity but you all can’t be bigz girlzs like moi. Abi Brain? Give me a mental high five jo.

Really? Big girl? No be you we see struggling to get into your economy seat to London the other day? London na holiday? Shio. And dey no tell you say Orobo no dey fly economy? Instead of you to have saved all that money you spent at Ice-cream Factory on a business class ticket; you were now harassing other lepa customers, trying to squeeze into your seat. Na wa for some people. Creamy goodness no go kill you.

Ahhhh!!!! I told you not to buy an economy ticket. See???!!!! We were seen and now everyone knows we aren’t rolling in wonga. Why must you always embarrass us?

Shut it Brain! It was either fly economy and shop like crazy or fly business class and buy our new Autumn/Winter wardrobe at Liverpool Street market. So excuse me for thinking about our fashion credentials. Ungrateful organ.

As for you. Me? Orobo abi???!!!!!! See how people like to start with me? You also want to bring my bigz girlz status into disrepute by announcing my budget travel itinerary to the world huh? As my driver likes to say when provoked “Thunder fire your left testicle!!!”

En! You dey curse me?

You never see curse. You better remove the one functioning member you have left from my blog before I send lightening to the other one. Nonsense.

I don’t know why people can't mind their own business. So what if I flew economy? No be the same place the plane dey go? Or do they make the economy passengers parachute into the Atlantic ocean and use their luggage as life rafts to the UK?

I beg! You can all say what you want but 3 suitcases of baffs says different, so kiss my heiny. The only thing left to complete my new wardrobe is the ultimate accessory…

A man?

Places to go?

Real Auntie Funmi hair?

A lepa body?

You’re still here? You’re obviously allergic to lampashing. No probs! Kiss your remaining love ball goodbye.

Wait now! Why are you running? Sex is overrated.

Joker! As I was saying, the one thing missing from my life is a car.

With my new baffs it would just be wrong for me to be red cabbing and hopping lifts all over the place.

My new Marc Jacobs Hobo deserves to ride in style and so I bit the bullet, sat my parents down and demanded my own car (Insisted on a jeep in a metallic olive green to complement my skin tone) or else I would be forced to take drastic measures.

Yeeeeaaahhhh well! I haven’t been allowed back into the house since and I am currently sleeping on Peanut Boys sofa. His Mrs. isn’t too thrilled by this and has taken to vacuuming the sofa whilst I’m still asleep on it. But hey! The jokes on her cause what she doesn’t know is I actually rather enjoy the sucking sensation good ol'Dyson Handy Vac provides.

You’re sick!

Takes one to know one pervo.

Anyway. After numerous pleading text messages, my mother has finally agreed to let me come back home. So I walk through the gates on my first day back and the first thing I see is my mother and Tony standing next to her 19gogoro Prelude Honda Accord. I have a bad feeling about this. I hadn’t seen that car since I was about 5. I thought it had been scrapped and its bits used to make chicken cages. Lord! Where the hell did she dig it up from and more importantly what is it doing here?

"Good Mena you’re home. Come and look at your new car." says my mother trying very hard not to laugh.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Ye! My stomach o. Bigz Girlz cruising in her 2 door, 1979 Prelude. You sure say your Marc Jacobs no go catch fire if it enters this your new car?

Waka!

"Mummmmmmmmmyyyyyyy!!!! What is this? This isn’t a new car. This rust bucket is older than me." I moan. Looking in despair at the heap in front of me.

"You are obviously not ready to come back home. Tony! Escort her out of the gate."

"No! Wait! I’m listening." I say in a resigned tone.

As much as I've enjoyed the time spent with my new Dyson lover on my brother’s sofa, I miss my room and all my stuff. If it means allowing my mother to deceive herself that I will drive this death trap to get back in, so be it.

"Oya get in the car and let Tony show you how it works." says mummy dearest shoving me towards the rust covered eyesore.

It looks like its grinning at me and its freaking' me out. Why did I ever read Christine by Stephen King?

I open the passenger door and I’m overwhelmed by the smell of camphor and damp.

"Mummyyyyyyyy!!!!"

"Get in the car my friend. You just want to be posing on my husband’s money. He hasn't upgraded my Prado and you want jeep? Over my dead body."

Ohhhhhhh!!!! What kind of life is this? Someone would think we were poor the way this woman makes me suffer. Sebi I have relinquished my Porsche Cayenne dreams. The least they could do was get me a Picanto or something.

You! Picanto ke????!!!! You wicked o. You wan kill the car? Na everyday you go dey change suspension.

I’m too traumatized to deal with you now.

I get in the car and the seat immediately reclines of it's own accord and I’m left staring at the roof, where someone has written “One way to heaven!” next to a lovely illustration of skulls and crossbones.

Oh my God! I’m going to die in this recycled tin can and I’m not even sure I’m going to heaven. Boo Hoooooooooo!!!

"Mummmmmyyyyyyyyy!!!!!"

"That can easily be fixed. You’ve put on weight on your trip and it will be a good incentive for you to diet. You don't want the seat reclining when you’re driving now do you?" She says trying hard not to laugh.

Insult upon injury. She's leading me to an early grave and she thinks its funny? I can't be her real daughter. I must be the child of her love rival who died in a tragic accident and my father forced her to adopt me.

Tony returns my seat to the upright position and asks me to pay attention.

"Ok Madam! This motor old so na delicate touch you go dey use."

Wo’eva

"Why does it have 3 pedals? and why is the gear stick funny? What's with all the numbers?" I ask

"Madam?"

"The 3rd pedal on your left? What's that for?"

Gee! Am I speaking Mandarin?

"That one na clutch now."

"What’s a clutch? I'm used to just 2 pedals. The accelerator and the break."

My mother starts giggling hysterically..."Original driver!"

I ignore her. I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of getting upset.

"Ah! That one na automatic. This car na manual." says Tony, trying very hard not to laugh as well.

Manual? As in manual labor?

"Mummy! I can't drive a manual!"

"By Gods grace you will learn or you will go back to your red cabs because Tony is no longer allowed to take you anywhere. Now pay attention"

Tony clears his throat and begins...

"To start the car you first need to open the bonnet…"

Huh? What the hell is he talking about?

"...turn the key and then…"

Tony then proceeded to jump out of the car, lift the hood and whack the engine with a metal bar tied to the bonnet. Slam the lid shut, jump back in the car and pump the clutch furiously before the old banger spluttered into life.

"You see how I do am small madam? E easy or make I show you again? You just have to be fast, fast. Maybe you no go dey wear those your koskos shoes when you dey start the car so you fit run well, well."

You’ve got be kidding me.

I look at him, turn to look at my mother and started to cry.

RIP Hot Babe 2

2010-09-23T11:26:00.000+01:00

I should punish you all by not telling you what happened to me but I need sympathy.

I am currently tethered to the bed.

Despite my reassurances to her that the injury will fade with time and TLC, my mother has decided that the only way to resolve the issue of my facial scarring is to give me an all over body toning treatment to ensure that my skin tone is even all over.

Considering that one half of my face is currently a bright, pinky red colour, you can imagine my panic and the need for her to have me shackled to the bed so I can’t escape. I’m sure you’re still wondering how I got myself into this predicament?

Well…After delving into murky waters by agreeing to venture out in public with Ladies Man, my antibiotics ladled brain promptly forgot about the whole thing and I decided to have my family over for dinner instead because I love them and enjoy spending time with them.

You are tied to the bed in your undies and at the mercy of your very upset mother. You better tell the truth and the let devil be ashamed. So you at least have a chance of making it into heaven if you don't survive your experimental toning session.

FINE!!! I only invited them round to put smarmy Market Boy in his place. His razz wifey had us over for dinner the weekend before and surprisingly none of us died of food poisoning. The food was rather nice (No way in hell I’m telling her that), the company was tolerable and there was copious amounts of alcohol so their boring conversations didn’t matter so much after the third or so glass of vodka. Anyway he’s been feeling rather smug with himself since then. You would think he flew in Gordon Ramsey to cook the food the way he’s been going on.

My wife’s so cool! My wife’s so awesome! My wife can crack walnuts between her legs (Well he didn’t actually verbalize that but I know he’s thinking it). Yadda! Yadda! Yadda! Put a sock in it loser. Nobody cares.

I was just going to ignore him but he called me …

"Hey Sis!"

"What do you want? I’m busy."

"You mean you’re forming busy because you’ve been changing your BB status every 15 minutes. Hardly the actions of someone who is busy."

See why I don’t send his ITK behind?

"Whatever! Who died and made you BB Gestapo? Did you want something?"

"Yeah actually. I was just thinking about your manless status the other day and I thought I'd call to give you some moral encouragement."

I just know this isn’t going to go well for one of us.

"Thanks bro but I’m cool. Don’t need any back patting at the moment."

"It’s not back patting. It’s more a critical analysis of where you might be going wrong."

Now everyone’s an expert. I know where I’m going wrong mate. They find out I’m related to you and they all make a run for it.

"That’s very thoughtful of you but like I said…buuuuuuuuuuusssyyy."

"See that’s part of your problem. Your snide, dismissive attitude."

Ah! See me see trouble. Is today international "Your Own No Go Better" day or why is everybody trying to bring me down? It’s only because my ashawo sister claims to love him that I haven’t shown this one my ninja assassin side. Crazy man.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You’re too hostile. You need to relax, let your hair down, develop some girly qualities and oh learn to cook like my Buttercup."

Emi?

Is it that paki, eat rice everyday, went to FGC razzo he’s referring to as Buttercup? Can he possibly be comparing my ethereal self to her? Na lie.

"I am relaxed, I have several girly qualities and I can cook way better than your wife."

"I doubt that. As I was sa..."

"You want to put your money where your mouth is loser? I can wipe the floor with your wife any day."

"Gasp! You dare besmirch my wife's cooking?"

"Your oyinbo too much. Bring money and let me show you what real cooking is."

By the way, I've been meaning to mention your growing local vocab. So not on sweetie. Guys don't dig that."

"Kiss my bum bum."

So 5 minutes later it was decided. I would host my own dinner party and the rest of the family would decide whose meal they liked better.

So that Saturday I was up by 5am doing unspeakable things to a beef fillet and other exotic ingredients. I decided to have a Spanish Tapas night to show Market Boys jollof rice damaged taste buds what real cooking was. I had 10 dishes to prepare and I was mega busy. So you can imagine how annoyed I was when I got a call on the intercom saying there was someone looking for me at the gate.

I stomp outside in my bubu, my face covered in flour from battering my squid and lo and behold, I find Ladies Man waiting for me.

OH … MY…GOD! BRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh yeah! I was going to remind you about that

You were going to? When exactly were you going to you useless excuse for an organ?

Well, OK... my bad. Totally forgot. Hehehehe... But really you have to see the funny side.

Do you see me laughing? What am I supposed to do now?

Ladies Man is taking in my smelly (Haven’t had a shower yet. Usually smell like a spring meadow, I do) and disheveled state and probably wondering what he’s let himself in for.

"Hi!" I said trying to decide how to blag my way out of this mess.

"Hello! I thought we agreed that I would pick you up by 12pm?"

Pick me up? I look around and I don’t see no car. Was he going to carry me on his back or what? Thank God I forgot sef.

"I’m soooo sorry. I thought that was next week?"

"No, I said this Saturday."

"Really? Oh gee! I’m terribly sorry. It must have been the drugs. I’ve just been so out of it lately."

"It’s all right. I’ll wait for you to get ready. I’ll call my friend to keep some seats for us."

Ohhhhhhhhhh!!!! What’s wrong with this die hard now? I feel bad enough as it is. It seemed like a bit of harmless fun when I was messing about and agreed to go with him. But now that he’s actually standing in front of me, looking all eager, I feel like an evil low life. I will just have to break it to him gently that I ain't going nowhere with him.

5 minutes later after lying my ass off about no running water, so couldn’t have a bath etc, I watched Ladies Man’s backside disappear off into the sunset on an okada. Once again…Thank God I forgot or that would have been me and him riding off on the okada. I could have sworn I saw him snapping his fingers in my general direction - The universal symbol for “I will show you”, but it was probably just my imagination.

Imagination my beautiful black booty! The boy seped on me! If he can't have me he dosen't want anyone else to. You can all say what you want but nothing will convince me that he wasn't responsible for what happened next.

After he leaves, I head back to the kitchen, drop a piece of battered squid in some cooking oil and it literally explodes in my face. I'm talking squid everywhere explosion. My face is on fire! I dunk my head in cold water. Rub my face with ice but nothing works. By the time my guests arrived for dinner one half of my face was already a weeping blister.

You would think my useless family would be sympathetic but no, they spend the entire evening laughing and Market Boy is calling me Scarface by the time they head off home.

As I'm trying to free myself from my mothers complicated knot system, I’m thinking of all the ways I can get my own back on Ladies Man and Market Boy. I wonder how much Area boys charge to break a couple of vital bones?

My door opens and in walks my mother dressed like a mad scientist in an apron, rain boots, hair net, surgical mask and gloves. Closely followed by Inspector Lamidi pushing in an industrial size keg of Fair & White.

What the….? She can't possibly be serious.

Somebody, save me please!!!!!!!!!!!

RIP Hot Babe

2010-09-23T11:09:00.000+01:00

Eeeeeeeeeekkkkk!!!! Run Mena! There’s a monster in the mirror.

Shut up jo. That’s us Brain. We’re the monster.

Boo Hoo! My beautiful face.

It’s not possible. Hey! Stop crying and listen…Ko possible. I had a deal with the guy upstairs not to be inserted into any ugly people. By accepting me as your brain you were under strict obligations to keep yourself hot at all times or I would be forced to turn you into a vegetable. You put on weight; I did nothing because your face was still fine. You went through a period of channeling Lil’Kim as your fashion inspiration; I did nothing because…your face was still fine. I even allowed you to continue to lead a normal life after subjecting me to months without manicures and silky human hair extensions because of our fine facial features but seeing as you have allowed your one saving grace to be desecrated, I give you 1 hour to put your affairs in order because today is the day we will see who really runs this body.

Sharrup! You talk too much for a muscle mass. It’s always about you. What about me? I’m the one who has to face leaving the house like this. I’m never going to meet a man now. It was hard enough when I was hot but now that I’m disfigured…Boooooooooooooo Hooooooooooo. E don finish o!

Er... what’s going on here?

Oh look what the cat dragged in Brain? Crappie fans.

Na wa for you people o! How many days ago did I say I was going to go out with Ladies Man?

About a week ago

and when was the last time I posted a blog?

About a week ago

And none of you thought that was a tad strange? That something might be wrong?

Not particularly. You are rather self absorbed and tend to forget you have an obligation to your long standing fans. Frankly I think I speak for the rest of your reading public when I say we don’t feel appreciated Mena.

Ennnnnn…Brain! Are you hearing what I am hearing?

I hear am o. I think someone does not know in whose presence they stand.

I think not.

What mode should I switch to in order to enable you kick the nincompoops behind verbally. Should we do local chick, ghetto chick or I went to public school and I know big words chick.

This one is not like the usual complainants Brain. Seems to understand English. I think we should fight fire with fire and go for the latter.

Righty ho! Public school girl it is. I hope I remember how to switch it on. It’s been a while seeing as we don’t get to use it much with the razzo’s we are forced to relate with on a regular basis. Switching in 3…Oh, by the way don’t think I’ve forgiven you. You have 50 minutes of normal brain functions left. After that I suggest you embrace the joys of not being able to blink and you might need to invest in some big girl nappies. OK continuing countdown… 2,

BANG! BANG!

"Mena open this door at once. Open the door and let me see you. Inspector Lamidi says you have been involved in a horrible disfiguring accident. I rushed straight here from The Wives of Big Men club luncheon when I heard. The sooner we sneak you out of the country so you don't disgrace the family with your mangled features the better. Oya open the door."

Damn it! God save you that my mother arrived when she did because I had a bevy of soul crushing insults planned for you.

Who send that gbeborun Lamidi message? I was hoping to have covered up the worst of it with a bucket of liquid make up before she returned from her jobless women’s meeting. Abi what do you call a meeting dedicated to comparing their husbands PRADO models? She is currently not cooking for my father because he refuses to upgrade, spoiling her chances of reelection as Chief Iwayo Olowo next year.

"Mena!!!!"

"I’m coming mummy."

This is going to be painful. I take a deep breath and open the door for my mother.

"Hello Mum! You shouldn’t have rushed over. It’s just a scratch." I say plastering the most carefree smile I can muster on my face.

My mother takes one look at me and as if in slow motion slowly crumples to the ground.

Mena! I think you finally did it. You have finally killed your mama. You will henceforth be known as Mena the murderer. They go send you to Kirikiri, where you will have to wash other women’s knickers with non -foaming bar soap. You will beg me to turn you into a vegetable then.

"Oh my God! Mummy! Wake up please."

I shake her no response. I check her pulse and thank God she’s still got one. She’s just fainted. I rush to the bathroom, get some water and sprinkle some on her face.

No response.

Tap her face gently

No response.

Then I decide to try an old trick my dad says he uses when she snores. My father says she can smell money a mile off regardless of how out of it she is. Let’s see if it’s true. I open her purse and waft a couple of thousand naira notes under her nose.

I detect movement. Na wa for this woman and money. She stirs and starts to mutter

"Ummm…my money. Who’s stealing my money? God punish all you thieves. you will not see anything to buy in the market with my money."

"Mummy open your eyes it’s me. No one is stealing your money."

She slowly opens her eyes, looks at me and sits up with amazing speed for someone who was lying comatose seconds ago and starts to whack me with her handbag.

"You will not kill me for my husband you hear?" Whack!

"You will not kill me." Whack!

"Owww!!! Mummy!! Stop hitting me."

I’m up and running round the room but the sprightly old witch is right behind me whacking away.

"I will take out any child of mine that decides they want to cause me problems in this world. And I will not allow any child to live in my husband's house after their allotted time. You my dear have passed your time. I see what you are planning. You think by turning yourself into Quasimodo you will escape marrying and leaving this house? Over my dead body."

By now the scene is something from the Benny Hill show with me and my mother running round in circles and her handbag thwacking me at every opportunity.

I hate you Brain. This is all your fault. If you hadn’t made me agree to go out with Ladies Man, none of this would be happening.

Like I make the decision round here? And if I remember correctly it was more Market Boys fault than mine. Move your head dimwit you're killing me here.

Market Boy! The thorn in my sexy side. I will make you pay.

Ok! I know I’m just an annoying fan but what the hell is going on here? What about Ladies Man? What happened to your face and what does Market boy have to do with anything? Answers Mena! Answers! And don’t you dare leave us with another stupid cliff hanger.

Enn…U dare me? Brain they are daring me.

Are you talking to me? I’m not involving myself in your wahala again. If you like don’t komot your head for road, When your mother has killed all my component little grey cells maybe you will learn your lesson.

I’ll take that as a “How dare they dare us?” from you and you all know what that means…

My body is at work but mind is...

2010-09-14T13:52:00.000+01:00

Miles away on a beach on the Virgin Islands with Tyrese rubbing suntan lotion on places where the sun don’t shine. I’m exhausted and still a tad ill, so really shouldn’t be here. But it’s either work or stay at home and let my mother wreak her usual havoc in my life. The woman doesn’t understand “No! I’m not interested and I’d rather die than do that”. Her response to the latter being

“At least if you die, I can have a big party and wear the lace you have denied me during your lifetime”.

That’s my mum! Always making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. So after the 2nd consecutive day of trying to get me to do lunch or dinner with my equally uninterested make believe cousin, I dragged my diseased body out of bed and scurried to work. I figured a day in the company of Bad Weave and the other office losers had got be better than having someone put make up on you whilst you’re asleep and invite random men over for a sneak preview of what they might be getting if they cough up enough in the bride price department (Haven’t caught her doing it but I do know I didn’t go to sleep looking like the next poster girl for MAC cosmetics).

I sit at my desk and I can’t even be bothered to pretend I’m working. My browser is opened to Bella Niaja and I’m popping antibiotics like candy, whilst wondering why all the girls look like clones of each other. Can someone please make it illegal for more than 5 women with Brazilian hair to be in the same place at the same time? Every event is like a Stepford wife convention for crying out loud.

People with shuku and patewo hairstyles are starting to look exotic and exciting to me. I shall write to our dear governor, Fashola, and ask him to make it law that every woman has to have her natural hair on display for at least 6 months of the year. Even me I don tire! Upon all my “I want to be a bigz girl” wahala, the constant hair flicking is starting to give me neck strain. And I swear I heard chirping noises coming from my last Amy Winehouse inspired bouffant weave.

Yes siree! I have hooked myself up with some afro kinky twists. My mother says I look like crazed Rastafarian midget and has offered to pay for me to get my hair redone, but I ain't budging. No long flowing locks for a while. I am embracing my afrocentric side and if you all talk too much I shall adopt the bubu and thong sandals as my key articles of clothing for the rest of the year. It is time to respect the cultures of my motherland and shun the artificial glamour of designer brands and sewn in hair…I am African! Africans Awoo!

Joker! I don’t know who you are trying to deceive. Are you trying to tell me that this sudden interest in your motherland has nothing to do with that “Africa! My Africa” bobo whose trousers you’re trying to get into?

Well I never!!!! I don’t know what you’re talking about. A woman shows some interest in her culture and gets accused of all sorts. I don’t know why I bother.

You better not bother because I ain’t letting you marry any vegetarian, Jesus sandal wearing hippy you met handing out “Nubian sisters be free” leaflets at the Palms. We eat suya and wear a fashionable mix of LDA & Topshop ok? And I ain’t letting any man get in the way of that. So if you want to embrace a life of Kente cloth danshiki’s and beans, please have a lobotomy and leave me in peace.

But he’s deep Brain. He stands for something. Don’t you want to stand for something too?

Wearing a suit made entirely out of Ankara and Bata inspired sandals, doesn’t make you deep. It simply means you are a style challenged freak. You’re only interested because he’s hot and he called you “His beautiful Nubian princess”

Hehehe… “His beautiful Nubian princess”

Get a hold of yourself woman. He said that to every girl that walked past. You have to stop falling for everything in trousers that looks like Kojak.

I do not! I haven’t fallen for him. I am simply helping him spread the gospel of natural beauty and utilizing our God given resources. So please leave me alone and stop trying to pour sand in my garri. Now can we please think about something else because today is a man free day. Don’t have the energy for opposite sex thoughts.

Where is everybody today anyway? Bad Weave is apparently on leave. Boli Lover is in Ghana, Rat Boy is off to see a client with 6 Pack Guy and damn! Ladies Man is making his way over to my desk. I immediately start coughing really loudly in the hope that the fear of catching my germs will guide his steps away from me but the man obviously has no fear of anything viral because he keeps coming.

Polyester makes contact with fake mahogany as he plants his “No longer attractive to me” behind on my desk.

“Hello! How are you feeling?”

How do you think genius? I look like death warmed over. Even the generous helping of beauty flash balm I applied doesn’t seem to be helping me much today. I decide not to answer him. Instead I perform a nice coughing medley and hope he will take this as a hint to bugger off from my personal space. Damn! Still not budging. I guess I’m gonna have to talk to him.

“Much better thanks.”

“That’s good. You look better.”

Liar, Liar, pants on fire.

“Look I was wondering what you were doing on Saturday?”

Hmm…How are my plans any concern of yours you local Casanova? I beg not in the mood for rejecting lame chat up lines today. Everybody should just respect themselves.

Noticing that I’m taking my time to respond. Ladies Man hurriedly carries on.

“There is a concert at my church on Saturday and I thought you might like to come.”

Yeah right! And the 2011 elections will be fair and produce a non-corrupt individual to rule our great country.

Not bloody likely!

Why is this boy always trying me? He thinks he’s smart trying to wangle a date with me using church. I beg don’t try and play a player. I caught at least two of my boyfriends with that line. Invite them to church to display my “Praying Wife” qualities. Then nip to the loo at some point during the service, to slip some unscrupulous congregation member 50 bucks to corner him and have a revelation that I am his future wife and that he must treat me like a queen or the wrath of the Lord will be upon him. Cruel, I know but a girls got to do whatever it takes. The poor sucker ends up dating me for months. Too scared to break up with me and too scared to marry me because he’s thinking “Lord this isn’t what I asked for in a wife now”.

Menaaa!!! He’s just being friendly. Nothing wrong with inviting you to a church social now is there? You might actually enjoy yourself and who knows…Ladies Man might actually not be so bad.

Brain! Are you alright? Wash your grey cells out with soap for thinking such yucky thoughts. Not so bad indeed! I am highly disappointed in you. Do you not watch TV? If I am stupid enough to follow this boy to his so called “Church Social” I know I will wake up the next day in some smelly face me, I face you bachelor pad with no clothes on, after being doused in love potion masquerading as holy water

Come on! Say yes. I'm bored and your life has truly sucked lately. Go on I dare you!

U dey dare me?

Hmm...Mena never backs down from a dare.

I give Ladies Man my biggest smile and say "So what time are you picking me up?"

Ahhhhhhhhh!!!! I was only joking o!

And the pain goes on.

2010-09-01T11:51:00.000+01:00

"Mummy! Stop hugging me. I can’t breathe and my wrapper."

She looks down and notices that my “Only to be seen after marriage goods” are on display. A normal mother would hastily cover up her daughter’s modesty but mine just laughs and says

“What haven’t we all seen before?”

I beg your pardon?! Give me my wrapper jo. Maybe you’re in the habit of flashing your bits around but I like to keep mine encased in 100% silk knickers and under clothes preferably.

"Mummy please!!!!"

"Ok o but when all 3 of you used to play around naked and we used to beg you to wear cloths that was a different story abi? You are now posing for each other? Oya hold still let me help you tie it."

Me and who? I never have and I never will be involved in a kinky 3 way. The rumors are all lies. Anyway, Mena never forgets a naked hottie and I ain’t ever seen either of these guys before. Naked or otherwise.

"Mena don’t you remember your cousins?" says my mum as she deposits me into the nearest chair.

"Cousins?"

YOU LIE WOMAN!

I have no hot cousins. All my cousins are fugly! Fuuuuugggglllyyy! I tell you and they have no style to boot.

She’s probably being a typical Nigerian and calling random family friends cousins.

Please God don’t let them be biological cousins. I should at least get to have one of them after letting them see my naked bottom. I’m sure it’s in the Bible that you have to marry who ever sees you naked.

Really? All the other ones before this n’ko?

I don’t know what you are talking about. I am as pure as the driven snow. I now see you are the people spreading all the lies about me en? You don’t want me to marry abi? As Ijebu Chick likes to say “All my enemies die, die, die!”

Ah ah! Which one na die again? Back to sender.

Tough!!!!! My Epée shield is up and fully activated. Nothing is coming back to me. Komot from my blog jare enemy of marital progress.

"Yinka*, Ayo* you don’t remember Mena?"

Yinka*!!!!!! It can't be. He ain’t no blinkin’ cousin. He’s my mum’s friend’s scrawny kid that used look up my skirt and put his boogies in my hair. Last time I saw him he was being trashed by his mother for melting my Suntan Barbie in the oven. How dare he come back 30 years later looking all hot? As for his Brother Ayo, wonder if he’s still a total nerd? Always had his big ol' head in a book. The rest of his body has definately caught up with his head sha. All muscly. Not as hot but definitely not fugly either. Lord I so need some make up.

We all mumble, “Hi’s” and one of the non-cousins suggests that my mum better take me to the hospital.

2 hours later I’m on my way home with more drugs than Tyrone on a project street corner. I apparently have a viral infection which my mother has attributed to me kissing boys that don’t come from good homes. I am too tired to question the medical basis of her diagnosis. I just want to put my head down and sleep. I snuggle into her lap and let her stroke my hair.

“This is nice” I think as I start to nod off.

"So which one should we focus on?"

Huh? What’s she talking about now? Be quiet woman and stop spoiling the Hallmark moment.

"Yinka is a bit too fine and exciting for you. I don’t think you can handle him. Maybe if you start wearing your Body Wowo and some Lycra dresses, I might be able to get him interested."

My own mother is not really saying all this to me. It’s the drugs making me hear things.

"Ayo is better. Very stable young man. You won’t have problems with him. I saw the way he was looking at you today. Even with your rolls of fat on display he seemed interested."

I’m not listening….Lalalalalalalalala

"I think he has some local “Buy me credit” girlfriend his mother doesn’t like. Between the two of us we can get you two together by Independence Day. They said they would come and check up on you later so as soon we get home, I don’t care how sick you are, you will have a bath and make yourself look ravishing."

"Mummy! You and Aunty are not God. Please leave Ayo and his local girlfriend alone. We are all adults and I would like to think, capable of making our own decisions. If he likes me he will let me know without you meddling. Now can we please just forget about men and marriage for one day and focus on the fact that I’m ill?"

Next thing I know my head is being roughly removed from her comfortable lap and shoved to one side.

"Mummy! That hurt." I moan rubbing my throbbing temples.

"Good. That pain is nothing compared to what you will feel when you wake up at 40 all alone and realize that your posing caused it."

"Look I’m not saying you can’t hook me up mum. I’m just saying you don’t have to go all mafia and start getting rid of current girlfriends or stalking people. You’re making me look desperate."

"In case you haven’t been looking around, you’re not the hottest or youngest chick in Lagos. You better be desperate and start fighting for what you want or else all those small girls with their perky breasts and hot pants will have married at least 3 times before you get to number one. Love and marriage is not like in the movies darling. It’s a war. It was a war when I was your age and I didn’t even have half the problems you have to contend with now. I know you think I’m mean to you and that I don’t care about your feelings when I say these things. The truth is I love you more than you will ever know and the thought of you being all alone when I’m gone scares me."

"Oh Mummy!" I burst into tears and throw myself back into her ample bossom(It runs in the family).

She loves me and she's so right. I don't want to die all old and alone surrounded by my shoes.

"There, there, don t cry. It’s going to be alright. Mummy is going to fix everything. As soon as we get home just go upstairs and shave off that nature reserve growing under your armpits ok? And don’t you have a sexy dressing gown because this your wrapper moves just dey disgrace person."

Why do I fall for it every time?

Make the pain stop!

2010-08-31T17:06:00.001+01:00

I woke up yesterday morning and felt like I’d been doused in hot acid, rolled in chill peppers and had the whole of Mo Hit records partying in my head. Everything hurt, ached and throbbed. My nose was all bunged up and I was hacking away like some demented old witch. I was ill…Again!

Lord why me? I blame all the constant crying on my shoulder by Bad Weave. She must have passed her local germs to me. My finely tuned virus defence system, having never encountered germs of such razzness and bad taste before, must have fled rather than touch them in battle. I don’t blame you my delicate white blood cells. Run! Save yourselves from the Fuji loving bacteria. But it means I need drugs and I’m going to have to go to the hospital. Even worse, it means I’m going to have to talk to my mother.

You mean you still haven’t let this BB Guy thing go Mena?

Of course I have. She is my mother after all. Its not like I can return her now is it? So I have accepted my destiny and I’m learning to bear my cross. Anyway, seeing as there currently isn’t a man on the horizon, the chances of getting out of this house anytime soon are looking slim. So I am respecting myself before my mother sparks and boots my sulking behind out. I’m only avoiding her to ensure no harrowing conversations on marriage, weight or what I’m doing with my life occur.

I literally crawl out of bed, down the stairs, into the living room.

"Mummy I’m ill." I say, collapsing at her feet and burying my head under her iro for comfort.

"Will you come on get off the floor and stop wiping your snotty nose on my clothes like a bush baby. Can’t you see we have guests?"

Huh? We do?

I peek out from under the iro and sure enough there were 2 other people in the room. And not just people, Hot, members of the opposite sex kinda people. Hmmm… My peripheral vision must really suck or I am reeeaaally ill. How the hell could I have missed hot guys?! OK let’s assess the situation. I’m lying on the floor in my see through nightie(It was laundry day and I got tired of waiting for “The One” to arrive before I could launch it), a wrapper, hair net, no make up, no bra and at this point I no longer have the will to live.

I have 3 options:

A - Reverse crawl out of the room without saying a word and hope they think I was a figment of their imagination.

B- Continue to lie on the floor, close my eyes and say nothing until my mother is forced to call an ambulance to whisk me away from my current shame filled Mena moment

Or

C- Get up! Say hello and walk out of there like I was the hottest thing since man discovered fire.

I chose to go with option C. I could turn this situation round. I am Mena after all.

Trust your bad self Mena.

Yeah! I'm bad! Sho mo! but er...Brain isn't. It chose to go with option B.

Huh?

Abi? U wan deny am? No be u dey control all my bodily functions?

Try as I might I just couldn’t make myself get up. Anyway after taking so long to figure out what to do, getting up and saying "Hello" now would just be awkward. They wouldn’t just think I was local but insane as well. So I simply let my head fall to the ground (Owwwwww!!!!) and waited to see how long it would take my mother to react.

"Menaa!!!!"

3 seconds. Not bad.

"Mennna!!! Oh my God help me! I think she’s dead."

Ah ah! What is always wrong with this woman? Which one is dead again? Don’t people ever faint where she comes from?

God forgive you. You are a very wicked daughter. Look at how you are scaring your mother?

I beg let me hear word. My head hurts. Anyway it’s not like I did it on purpose. You would do the same thing if you ran into hot guys whilst half naked with no make up on. STOP JUDGING ME!

"Quick help me lift her up."

No!!!! Lift ke? There shall be no lifting. The shame, if these 2 guys can’t carry my ample frame off the floor, might actually kill me. Doesn’t she watch TV? Check my airways and call an ambulance dammit! Payan payan!

"It’s alright madam calm down. We need to check she’s still breathing and that her airways aren’t obstructed before we move her."

Finally the voice of reason. Sounds like he watches ER. My kinda man. Unlike this Kakaki watching woman. If it was up to her, she would have thrown my unconscious, airway obstructed body unto the back of an okada and zoomed off to the ER, killing me in the process.

Ohhh nice. One of the hotties is checking my pulse. Strong, manly hands on my body...Mmmmm

"I can hear rasping noises coming from her throat..."

Damn! Did I moan out loud?

"She might be choking. Move back ma let make sure she’s not swallowing her tongue."

"Menaa!!! Ti pa mi o. What will I tell her father? They will say it is the holy spices I have been putting in her food."

En???!!!! Holy wetin? God don catch you today. I thought my Frosties tasted a tad odd lately. Now we know why. I shall deal with you when I finish feigning unconsciousness.

What the…?

One of the hotties is trying to pry my mouth open. No way that’s gonna happen. I haven’t brushed my gnashers yet and no potential Mr.Mena is getting a whiff of morning breath before he’s had a chance to see the finer things I have to offer. So I clamp down hard and start to wonder how to get myself out of this quickly deteriorating farce.

I should just make a miraculous recovery.

I move my head from side to side, escaping mystery hottie number ones prying fingers( They tasted like donuts by the way...Yummy Tasting Hottie),

Omo ko omo!

and I let out a few ladylike moans, before allowing my eyelids to flutter open.

" Where am I? What happened?" I say in a sexy low mumur

Ladies & Gentlemen and the Oscar goes to...

Yummy Tasting Hottie gazes into my eyes, touches my forehead and says

"You fainted. You're going to be..."

before MY MOTHER ruins our romantic first meeting by shoving him out of the way and putting me in a bear hug, whilst sobbing like a baby.

Oh gosh! She is rather upset isn't she?

Yah think spawn of the devil?! There's a special place in the afterlife for ungrateful children like you.

I didn't mean too. Everything just spiralled out of control. Anyway don't worry, pay back has come early. My mothers vigorous hugging just made my wrapper drop. My butt cheeks are on display for the whole world to see. I can't see Hottie number 2 but Yummy Tasting Hottie does not look impressed.

My aching head. Just kill me now and make all the pain and embarrassment stop.

Male Mates Needed. Apply Here!

2010-08-25T12:02:00.000+01:00

Lord have mercy! That’s like the 15th e-mail in the space of an hour. This is why you should never let another woman hug you in the ladies loo. They get all clingy and demanding.

Sod off woman!!!

I don’t want to know if Fuji dancer hasn’t picked up your call for the umpteenth time. Don’t you have friends to talk too?

Bitchy!

Whatever!!! Look, I can appreciate that Bad Weave is going through a bad time, but the fact that I patted her on the back and helped her blow nose doesn’t suddenly make me her new BFF. She's been making me do lunch so she can sob on my shoulder. My dry cleaning bill this month is going to be horrendous. Hasn't she ever heard of waterproof mascara? Anyway she wants me to come down to Fuji Boys place with her to talk to him. Naturally that’s where I drew the line. That's the kind of trip you take your close mates, who have had the torturous experience of meeting Fuji Boy, on. Not some random hot chick that works in your office. I'm sorry Bad Weave I ain't looking to be your friend.

If I wanted new friends, I definitely wouldn’t be looking in her direction. And despite what you might all think it ain't just the bad hair and men choices that’s standing in her way. We just don’t have anything in common. I’m too old to be forcing myself to hang with people just because I feel sorry for them or I’m bored and lonely. Making friends is a delicate process and you just don’t hand yourselves over to random people just because you happen to know their dirty little secrets.

To make matters worse, Rat Boy who now knows I know has been trying to get me to talk her into seeing things his way. Not my beeswax mate. You shagged her. You bag her. I ain’t involving myself in this Tinsel plot line. Everybody leave me alone.

Don’t worry you’ll be alone pretty soon, considering your only mate in Lagos; Speedy Gonzales is jetting off to New York for 4 months as we speak.

Noooooooooooo!!!! Why Speedy?!! Why?!!

Damn the dodgy maternity services in this country. Why is everyone so obsessed with jetting off to have their sprogs? I was born here and turned out just fine thank you very much. Army Barracks Hospital Ilorin…I salute you (Could have done a better job moulding my ears but thank God for long flowing weaves.) She lied!!! She doesn’t love me or she wouldn’t be leaving me at the mercy of my crazy man wrapper sister. Boo Hoo. I do need new friends don’t I Brain?

Yes you do Anti-social one.

Ok! But can we only look for male friends? Can’t cope with female drama.

Ashawo! Wetin you wan take male friends do?

Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m taking a sabbatical from lusting over men remember?

If you say so. That’s why you’ve been aiming your cleavage towards Six Pack Guy all week abi?

Oh that! Not what you think. We were conducting an experiment. He was helping me decide what angle my boobies looked perkiest at for future man catching purposes.

If I could make you slap yourself I would. Actually I can...

Ow! Stop that.

He’s so metro sexual he’s swung right past the hetro to gay. So I wouldn't worry about him Brain. Or at least I think he has. In fact I’ll eat carbs if he ain’t gay. His interest in my hair and shoes is way too intense to be normal male behavior. I mean only this morning he high fived me for being right on trend with my Gucci raffia tote.
I pirry you. I wouldn’t assume he’s anything until he tells you himself or you catch him in a compromising position with the stationery boy who definitely is. If you like keep giving him film show.

Nah! No way. He calls me girlfriend and we’re even thinking of going to some fashion show over the weekend. Definitely a whole lot more fun hanging with a guy.

Afraid no catch you abi? A word is enough for the wise. From fashion show you go branch bar. From bar your "Can't hold her drink" self will end up in the supposed gay man's house doing very un gay things. Any man that’s not a eunuch, Gucci bag lovin’ or otherwise, is dangerous. I don’t want to hear "O ka mi mo corner" o.

Askology. You ain't my Daddy!! So chillax and stop being so suspicious! You should be happy. I might just be making a new friend and at work too.

Find a girlfriend. I don talk my own.

Look as any woman will testify making friends with guys is just easier. Guys ain’t hating on your weave or eyeing up your boyfriend behind your back (Well these days you never know). There are only 2 reasons why a guy is your friend in the first place. You’re either very hot and he’s hoping one day you will trip over and conveniently fall into his shag master 2000 deluxe king-size bed with the rotating overhead mirrors or you make him laugh and he thinks you’re cool. Outside of those 2 reasons there ain’t much else they are interested in.

Also guys like to do fun stuff like play video games, drink copious amounts of vodka, talk about pointless crap in loud voices and most importantly they know other guys who might be suitable for dating duty when my man fast is over.

So really, guy friends are the future. I just have to maintain the key rule to staying friends with a guy; which is never sleep with them. You can flirt with them till kingdom come but never ever snog or sleep with them cause that just creates all sorts of messy boundary issues. I see some people at the back of the room eagerly raising their hands to ask things like "What about friends with benefits?" etc.

Story. Do you have female friends with benefits? If you do then you probably ain’t interested in blokes anyway and if you still are then...Does your mama know you’re kinky lil’ so and so? Anyway my point is once you start giving up the extra’s you’re now in shag buddy territory, which is a whole other blog.

Being friends with a woman…I beg. Wahala dey plenty.

The reasons why a woman might want to be your friend are endless. Which is why I avoid female friendships like the plague. They're cool when you're still pubescent and you think boy bands are the best thing ever. But once you get past a certain age its just easier to stick to the girls you've known all your life instead of trying to fit into some clique that has so many rules and regulations to join its easier to be employed by the CIA.

Don't get me wrong, I do talk to other girls and we do the whole number swapping thing but deep down we both know we're just going to remain acquaintances and air kiss when we see each other at parties. I’ve got my own issues; don’t need a random girl bringing me down. I shall stick with Ijebu Chick & Bunnylicious. They might be annoying and thousands of miles away but at least I know they got my back.

So I think the best way to handle this is to maybe hold open auditions for my new male mates. Anyone who’s interested should send me their BB pins and I’ll take it from there. No “Cant afford to buy his own popcorn when we go the movies” applicants please. And also it wouldn't kill you to be cute, have modicum of style and a strong grasp of the English language. I might not be planning on dating your arse but I don’t plan on slumming it either.

I think we're gonna need more tissues.

2010-08-18T14:54:00.000+01:00

Bad Weave’s fiancé has dumped her 3 months to the wedding after he caught her in a steamy liaison at Mama Cass. Please don’t ask me how it’s possible to have a steamy liaison at Mama Cass. I’m too tush to know.

Ennnnn!!!! Ashawo. Na wa Mena. This one that you can’t even find one to lampash you and she’s keeping 2 to herself. It’s a shame sha.

Gerraway jo! I know you are just using style to insult me.

What’s the big deal? I just kinda got dumped too and slapped with a BB restraining order to boot. I should be the one sobbing in the ladies. I could be picking out table linens with my wedding planner by now. Boo Hoo!

N’do. Se you know your own romance was a figment of your over active imagination sha?

Kiss my BBB (Beautiful Black Behind)!

Anyway, to make matters worse…She’s pregnant.

Ahhh!!! That one na different story but at least she’s been getting some. Unlike some people.

Continue being lippy.

It's true sha…The bi*#%. But then again, it depends on who you’ve been getting it from. Guess what makes this whole situation suicide worthy?

Wetin??

She was caught in a steamy liaison with Rat Boy formerly known as Chipmunk from the office.

Na lie! Story don wowo finish.

I don’t know why but I am rather upset by this news. I don’t know if it’s the mental image of both them getting it on that’s now looping through my brain that’s upsetting me; The fact that even Rat Boy is getting his groove on and I’m not or the knowledge that they were able to carry out a sordid affair under my nose without me finding out. I pride myself on my instincts and if anyone had told me that Rat Boy had ever seen or knew what to do with a naked woman, I would have had them committed.

All interest in Six Pack guy has now gone. I needed to hear me some gist.

As it turns out Bad Weave’s Fuji dancing boyfriend had proposed to her in a drunken haze about a month ago and it seems he was now getting cold feet. He had started ignoring her phone calls, staying out till all hours and taking an unseemly interest in the opposite sex. After a row over catching him in his neighbor’s apartment with nothing but a pair of boxers on (He claims he was helping her kill a cockroach. I don’t even have a witty remark for that), Bad Weave had come into work early the next day and had a mini sobbing fit. Rat Boy had arrived in the middle of the whole thing and given her a shoulder to cry on

Over the weeks, as Fuji dancing boyfriend’s behavior detiriorated, so did the muscles in Rat Boys shoulder, and they totally gave way one day causing Bad Weaves head to slip and placing her lips directly over Rat Boys. The rest as they say was history.

Personally it would take a whole lot more than a cheating boyfriend to send me into the stubby arms of Rat Boy. I’m not even sure a nuclear holocaust and the need to repopulate the earth would. If it was up to me and him, believe me, Cockroaches would rule the world.

Anyway she claims she didn’t know what happened but she just couldn’t help herself after that. Every time she had a row with Fuji Boy, Rat Boy and his “Miraculous rod of wonder” would pop by and make everything alright.

Did she want to be with him?

Apparently not. Her exact words being “Hell no!”

He was apparently an Okada riding, Dundun eating, junior member of staff. There was no future with him. He was just sweet to her and with Fuji Boy being a typical macho male, she was missing some tenderness. She loved Fuji Boy despite his dodgy ways and anyway he owned a Tokunbo Prado. Nuff said.

The only problem now was after the whole Mama Cass debacle, Fuji boy and his Prado had kicked her to the kerb. He was probably back on cockroach killing duty at his neighbors as we speak. Rat Boy on the other hand seems to have fallen for the lure of synthetic hair and was now claiming paternity to the unborn child and demanding she give their relationship a chance. I mean why let a little thing like no car and your meager salary stand in the way of love abi?

I can personally think of many reasons but I ain't pregnant and unable to decide if the baby daddy is a gyrating philanderer or a poverty stricken rodent. So I shall be keeping my opinions to myself.

Her question to me was “What would you do?”

God forbid! May I never be able to answer that question.

How the hell do I know Trampy? My sole knowledge of issues like this is garnered from Nollywood and I’m not sure their way of dealing with things is necessarily the right way to go. I honestly can’t even begin to relate to anything she’s telling me.

The only time I’ve ever cheated on someone was when I was in college and too much of a wimp to break up with the loser I was with. I tried. Believe me I tried but he would break into tears every time I attempted to tell him things weren’t working out. So I figured the best way to sort it out was to move on but not bother telling him I’d moved on. I figured he would work it out soon enough when he saw me smooching someone else on campus.

This on the other hand is a whole different kettle of fish.

Bad Weave, I’m all out of advice but I do have a giant box of Kleenex that I’m willing to share.

Abi? What else can I do?

Six Packs & Tissues.

2010-08-18T10:55:00.000+01:00

Friggin, stupid men.

Who needs them?

Not me that’s for sure.

After all, apart from the sex what else are they really good for? And lets be honest some of them can’t even get the sex bit right. I mean come on, how hard is it to keep going for 3 hours and make some multiple O’s happen whilst telling me I’m the best you’ve ever had in French? Exactly! Nothing to it abi and yet do I get that? Of course not. One ex had the nerve to say to me I was "Too demanding" and that there was nothing wrong with 10 minutes and a cuddle afterwards. 10 minutes!!!! It takes me that long to decide who I’ll be fantasizing about whilst the whole things going on. And as for cuddling…Totally overrated when the person cuddling you has just scratched his itch and left you wondering what the hell just happened? Nope! Don’t need em. I can change my own light bulbs thank you very much. I will throw myself into my work and breed chickens to fill my lonely hours. Chickens! What’s not to love? Unconditional clucky devotion and you can eat them when they piss you off.

I stroll into the office determined to be a better employee and put the last couple of weeks behind me. I reach my desk and lo and behold there is 6ft of gorgeousness sitting by it. I immediately suck in my tummy and thank God for forcing me to put make up on. I sashay up to my desk; sit down opposite him and kapow him with my 100 mega watt smile.

“Hi! Are you waiting for me?”

“Hi! I’m not sure. Are you Mena?”

“Yep! That’s me and you are?”

“My names ….."

(It’s got be Six Pack Guy).

"I’m the new Account Manager. “

Finally!!! My prayers have been answered. After months of petitioning HR via anonymous notes in the suggestion box, they have finally employed some eye candy for my department. Hello Six Pack Guy. How you doinnnng?? My self imposed ban on men will have to wait.

“Sorry to be camped out at your desk but it seems your HR department wasn’t quiet ready for me. So I was told to hang out with you and you would show me the ropes.”

God bless our incompetent HR department. I’ll show you the ropes alright. Right before I tie you to my headboard with them and make you my kinky slave.

Mena!!!!!

Sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

Pull yourself together woman.

I know Brain. We need to do something about my raging hormones. I’ve tried everything…Food, TV, going out, shopping, prayer and even fasting. But I just can't stop thinking about it. It’s all the time now. My mind is constantly playing naughty images in my head. If I was a dog I‘d be rubbing myself against every leg I could find. This is a disaster. I’m having a midlife kinky crisis. I’m all itchy and there’s no one to scratch it. Well there wasn’t until now.

Don’t even think about it Mena. We shall not be getting scratched by any one who gets paid by the same payroll as us. You’re just a bit stressed and hormonal at the moment. All that drama with BB boy has you frazzled. You’ll be fine.

But he’s so cute and muscly. Damn! Here comes Bad Weave. She’s bound to want him too. As a matter of principle I should be allowed to make my move before she tries anything Brain.

No! You no dey hear word?

Hey! What’s going on here? Bad Weave just walked past without so much as a lustful glance in Six Pack's direction. Something ain't right here. I turn to him and give him a quick once over. Nah! My nookie deprived brain isn’t playing tricks on me. He’s cute dammit! Why isn’t she interested? I know she has a boyfriend but that usually doesn’t stop her. Now I’m scared. Maybe her jazz has warned her about his hot self. He might be disease ridden, have a Johnson the size of a peanut (I wonder if there’s jazz that can tell you that? You know…Exciting equipment makes the crotch area glow green and a red flashing light tells you to run for dear life and sexual liberation. I need to look into that) or even worse, unable to keep me in shoes. I must investigate further.

I follow Bad Weave into the ladies room and find her sobbing uncontrollably. Her cheap Island cosmetics mascara is running down her face and one of her false eyelashes is literally hanging on for dear life. Under ordinary circumstances I would have whipped out my BB and filmed this for prosperity. You know something to cheer me up when I’m having a bad day but I had more pressing issues here. I needed to find out if Six Pack Guy was a potential play thing or if I needed to disinfect my desk and sepe on HR for tempting me with damaged goods.

“Are you OK Bad Weave? What’s the matter?”

She sniffs loudly, says something unintelligible and throws herself in my arms.

Eeeeewwwwwwwwwww!!!!! Personal space! Personal space dammit!

Oh my God!! she’s getting make up and bodily fluids all over my new Banana Republic silk tee. I need to bring this love fest to a close.

“There, there…everything’s going to be alright. Just sit here and tell me what’s wrong.”

I deposit her firmly on the loo and back up to a safe distance to listen to her pathetic tale of woe. I mean what could possibly be so wrong? Did her hairdresser run out of bad hair or maybe one of her sugar daddies wives finally gave her the beat down she deserves. Either way I’m only pretending to care so I know if it’s worth investing in a Brazilian wax before the weekend.

After several failed attempts to make out what she was saying through all the sobbing, the picture finally become's clear and let’s just say she needed to be crying a bit more than that. I actually considered shoving her out the window and helping her end it all.

Damn woman! How old are you again?

How could you have let all this happen?

Well I never...

2010-08-16T14:18:00.001+01:00

Hey! Snap out of it and open the darn message drama queen.

OK! I can do this. I’ve survived 3 brothers, 2 crazy sisters, a stint in Federal Government College and living with my mother alone deserves a purple heart. So opening a BB message is nothing. Here goes…

BB Boy: Hi!

Phew! All it says is "Hi".

"Hi" is cool.

I can deal with "Hi".

"Hi" doesn’t require too many mental machinations to respond to.

I’ll just say "Hi" back and then we’ll take it from there right?

Then again should I be worried that its just a "Hi"? I mean "Hi" is so impersonal. There's no "I’ve been pining away for you for 2 weeks" in "Hi". Theres no "Mena you wronged me but I cant resist you" in"Hi". What if…

For the love of God. Just respond will you. It ain't rocket science girl. Someone says "Hi" and you say "Hi" back! Geez!

DON’T RUSH ME! I CANT TAKE ALL THIS PRESSURE!!!!!!!

Mena: Hello stranger

Darn! Why did I type that? We agreed on me just saying "Hi" back abi? Now he’s going to know that I’ve noticed he ain't been around and that I was bothered by it. Oh Lord! Why couldn’t I just type"Hi!"? Why am I such a dufus?

I swear to God if you start crying again, I will force our organs to spontaneously combust. Its just a guy Mena. We can do this OK?

OK!

BB Boy: Hi there! Pinged you ages ago.

Mena: Sorry. Been a bit tied up. Just noticed it. So how are you?

BB Boy: I’m cool. Look I’ll just get straight to the point. No offence or anything but you need to get your crazy mother to leave me alone.

What the f*@k ? Where's my "I cant live without you" convo? And no one calls my mother crazy but me. What has the crazy woman done now? She swore to me that she had asked Inspector Lamidi to cease all surveillance detail on him and stand down. She's obviously lied to me...again.

Mena: Sorry?! I don’t think there’s any need for insults. How would you feel if I called your mother crazy?

BB Boy: Believe me if my mother was having you followed around by MOPO’s and scaring off your dates you can call her any damn thing you want.

En?? Did he say dates? You cheating bastard. While I’ve been losing precious body fluids from crying uncontrollably all week, he’s been getting his dating groove on? Na only MOPO u don see abi? You think my mother is crazy? Wait till you meet the miniature, concentrated version of her...Mena

Mena: I don’t know what you’re talking about. My mother wouldn’t do that( well she would but I ain't telling him that.) Next time I suggest you get your facts straight before you start flinging slanderous accusations about.

BB Boy: Look don’t try and mess me about. I recognize the guys from the other night at your house. They keep telling the LASMA guys near my office to harass me. They arrested my driver for no good reason. The other night they stopped me and my date and kept us there for over an hour claiming that the tyres on my car had been reported stolen and that they had to impound them for forensic examination

He said that word again…Date. Whats that drilling sound? Oh wait, its the sound of my blood rushing through my veins at an alarming rate due the shock of being so easily replaced.

Mena: You know what? It's people like you that are ruining our country.

BB Boy: Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?

Mena: You heard me. What?! Is that you and your so called date are too hot to co-operate with the police in an ongoing investigation?

BB Boy:You’ve got to be kidding me. What friggin' investigation? Nothing was stolen. I WAS DRIVING MY OWN F’ING CAR WHICH WAS PERFECTLY BALANCED ON THE TYRES IT CAME WITH FROM THE SHOWROOM!!!!!

Mena: Don’t you send me messages in caps with multiple exclamations at the end. Who do you think you are? First you insult my mother and then you have the nerve to address me in that tone? You sir, are no gentleman. If everybody acted like you how would we solve any crimes in this great nation of ours?

BB Boy:You’re insane. The crazy gene obviously runs in your family. Thank God I realized it before I got myself entangled with you. To think I was going to ask you to come to my mates wedding in Jos with me. I was actually considering getting serious with you.

Story! If you were really getting serious about me you wouldn’t have let a simple thing like my mother and my family's mental history get in the way.

Mena: Boo hoo. I’m heartbroken. Loser! Your mates are carrying babes like me to Dubai to shop. And you are feeling because you wanted to take me to one of your loser friends wedding in harmattan ridden Jos? Nigga plllleeeeezzzze!

BB Boy: This conversation is so over. Theres no point trying to reason with someone who’s obviously not all there. It's a shame. You’re a pretty girl. Try getting some help for your condition and maybe somebody might consider dating you. Until then just stay away from me or you’ll find out the hard way that you aren’t the only family with military connections.

Mena: Are you threatening me big spender?

BB Boy:Try me and see.

Mena: You’re just priceless. To think I was going to lose my haven’t had sex since the last world cup status with you? Well you can just kiss all that goodbye. I’ll be saving my goodies for someone else.

BB Boy: Really? 4 years?

Hmmm…Am I sensing a change in the waters? Trust a guy to get all mellow when the issue of sex pops into the equation. I might still be able to salvage this situation yet. I might still have a chance with BB Boy.Just need to reel him in gently. Don’t be a garden tool Mena but show him despite his disparaging comments about you and your mama, you are a forgiving soul.

Mena: Yes! Its been 4 years. I’ve been saving myself for the right guy. You know, the one who would complete me. My fellow wandering spirit. Is that you BB Boy? Are you trying to fight your true desires for me by hiding behind all this aggression? Let it out. We’re both adults. Theres no shame in admitting you want me despite my mental peculiarities.

BB Boy: You're right.

We are saying thank you Jesus... Brain,your master has succeed once again in turning a disaster into the beginning of steamy romance. Watch him pour out his heart to me.

Mena: That’s it. Open up to me.

BB Boy: I want you...

Oh gosh, bits of my body that I didn't know existed are tingling.

BB Boy: ...COMMITTED YOU BLINKIN' PSYCHO! NO WONDER YOU’RE FRIGGIN' CRAZY!!! GO GET LAID AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!

Well I never!

I think he’s just taken me off his BB list.

Don't judge me!

2010-08-10T13:44:00.000+01:00

Which one of you evil people sent me a note threatening to reveal my true age if I didn’t update my blog? All I can say is God dey! May they not send you such letters when you are busy recuperating from losing the one true love of your life.

En? Who be that?

BB boy of course! What kind of dumb ass question is that? Na everyday I dey love?

Weeellll….

Shut it! Just shut it, shut it, shut it!!!!! The others were nothing but mild amusements. They didn’t have the connection we did. Couldn’t you feel the love in the air Brain? How am I supposed to live now? Boo hooo

I can't live, if living is without you...

Oh God she’s breaking into song again. Mena e don do now. Pity the rest of the house.

I can't live, I can't give anymore

Can't live, if living is without you

I can't give, I can't give anymoreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Aaaaaaaaaahhhh!!! Boo hoo!
I can’t give anymore Brain…Booooo hoooooo.

Whyyyyyyyyy???!!!! Why does my life suck? I will never love again.

Boo hoooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

We could have been so happy with little danshiki clad babies running round the house shouting “Mummy I want nono!” Now that will never be and all because of THAT WOMAN! I will never speak to her again.

There, there Mariah from Ilorin. Stop blaming your mother and using her Egyptian cotton sheets to wipe the snot from your nose. And just a warning for the future…Refrain from crying in front of any man. We are not attractive when we cry. She's said she's sorry and has tried to make it up to you. The generator has been on non-stop for a whole week just to make you happy. Look, I thought you said under no circumstances were you going to succumb to his charms anyway? So why all the drama?

I know, but he smelt like candy, looked like candy and laughed like Count Dracula. What girl could resist that?

A normal one?

It will take more than her burning diesel to make it up to me. Short of her bringing me an identical BB guy, I ain't interested.

Don’t worry we’ll find you another candy smelling, fruit loop to fall in love with ok? Maybe if we got out of bed, had a shower and brushed our 100% almost human hair we might have a better chance of meeting someone else.

Look leave me jare. Let me wallow in my misery in peace. I shall stay hidden under the duvet until I can no longer stand the smell of my own sweaty body. I don tire for this Eko jo. Someone book me a flight outta here. I need a new start where people don’t trample on your love life just because they carried you for 9 months and suffered 14 hours of apparently excruciating labour. Story…Can’t have been that bad woman or you would have remained celibate afterwards instead of popping out a couple more kids.I can’t take it here anymore. If I’m not being mentally assaulted by my mother then I’m being judged every where I go.

Nigerians are the most tactless bunch of people I’ve ever met. I mean as far as I’m concerned just because I happen to be a pair of boobs with legs doesn’t make me a whale. I happen to be nicely rounded thank you very much. But the number of comments I get about my curves is bordering on harassment. Must I look like a bonga fish before everybody leaves me alone? Just the other day some pervo client that’s been making my life hell with his unwanted advances sent me a pervy forward. Just I was about to delete it I noticed he had saved my e-mail id as my name and in brackets right after that was the word “Orobo”. I did a quick double take.

Na lie. See this idiot? Not only has he violated me by sending a rather nasty and explicit fwd about boobs. He has the guts to insult my fine self to my virtual face and then copy his gang of no hoper friends into it? I don’t even care if they sack me, I’m so telling him his life story whilst simultaneously kicking his bony ass. With his wowo,” Never see dentist before teeth” and “Wind no carry me away” suit. Na condition bend crayfish and made you a manager even though you can’t speak English. Otherwise why in hell would I ever interact with you? Upon all my orobo you still want to date me sha? And you think insulting me will make it happen? Wait I dey come. Your great grandchildren will marry before I even get in the same car with you let alone display my so called orobo body in all its naked glory.

Everybody’s got an opinion here. I’m too fat, too short, too poor( I’m not poor! I just like cars that are painted yellow with black stripes),too snobby, too single, too loud, too rude, too old, too boring…the list is endless. At some point I was actually starting to question me!! Can you imagine? The Exotic One actually wondering if she was cute enough, sexy enough, clever enough or hip enough? As if.

Look everyone stop judging me. I’m me! Take me or leave me, that’s your choice but stop trying to change me. I’m not suddenly going to become a size zero, "My handbag defines me" chick with flowing Madagascarn hair. I’m a sophisticated razzo who likes to slob around in her pj’s watching old movies and eating ice-cream out of the tub. I would rather roll around the carpet with my nieces and nephews than spend hours at some fashion show looking at stuff that now cost more than my college education because someone tacked some tassel on a piece of Ankara.

I have a weird but wonderful sense of humor, I’m a clumsy, accident prone, bad ass cook, who makes a lot of dodgy decisions, loves shoes, eye candy and her family and friends. I’m not perfect and I don’t want to be perfect. I just want to be me and loved for being me. So if you can’t handle any of the above, I beg begin dey waka because I’m not going to let your issues become my issues. I have way too many of my own to deal with. Like I wonder if BB guy is a boxers or briefs kinda guy? Oh gosh! What if he’s all commando, all the time?

Erm... Are you ok? You have a glazed look in your eye?

That's it! I'm not letting a commando,candy smelling guy escape my clutches. I shall have my mother sectioned if necessary. Where's my phone?

Mena!!!! Don't do it! Think of the shame.

Sod shame. Where's the darn thing? Its been vibrating all day but couldn't be bothered to answer it. Was too sad to talk. Now that I want it...Ah! Found it.

15 missed calls and 1 BB convo.

Lord! Can't people just leave me alone? Bet it's my sister looking for gist.

Oh my God!

What?

It's a BB from BB guy!

Well aren't we going to open it?!

Too scared. Can't breathe...

OK! Now you can panic.

2010-07-20T11:23:00.001+01:00

…and the sexual electricity in the car is enough to make NEPA redundant and power up the whole of Lagos for a year. Just as I’m puckering up for the snog of my life, he begins to laugh.

“You almost got me there Mena. Was that some kind of test to see if I had honorable intentions towards you? “

Huh?

Test?

No test. Me wan kissy poo.

The only thing I want to test is if your lips fit over mine mugu. I can’t believe it. I’m practically handing myself over to him on a plate and he’s playing the "Gentleman". Does he know there are men that would kill to be in his shoes right now? I mean if it was Boli Lover or Alhaji, I wouldn’t even have finished the sentence before I found myself in the backseat with my La Perla’s hanging off the rear view mirror.

“Well I do. Not looking to fool around.” He says kissing me on the forehead

Whatever Sir Lancelot. Keep your chaste kisses to yourself. I can’t plan a future with you so the least you could do is give up some hot loving. Argh!!! Just take my deprived ass home.

He’s nattering on about God knows what as he drives towards my place but I’m no longer listening. I’m contemplating how long I’ll have to spend in jail if I manage to overpower him, drag him into the backseat and have my way with him. What is he? 5’10, maybe 120 pounds? I can take him. I’m sure tales of Kirikiri are all exaggerated and anyway I’m bound to lose weight in there. Darn! It’s too late. Home already.

Fine Lord you win. I shall obviously not be getting my groove on tonight or any other night till my wedding day.

He honks his horn to get the guard to open the gate and while we are waiting another car pulls up behind us.

Oh Lord why?!!! Is this my punishment for contemplating naughtiness?

It’s my mother’s car!!

What’s she doing here? She didn’t say anything about coming down to Lagos today?

I’m trapped. Even if I get out of the car and leg it, BB guy is blocked in. She would be on him like a rash before the poor guy could even say “Hi”.

Great! Here she comes.

My mother makes her way up to the car, ignores me totally and knocks on BB Guys window.

He gives me a puzzled look and I hide my face in embarrassment. Thank God I can’t marry him because this is definitely going to be the last time he’ll ever want to see me.

“It’s my mother.” I say.

“Oh! Cool!”

oh! You silly boy. This experience will be anything but cool.
He lowers his window and says “Good evening ma.”

“En hen… Good evening. Who are you and why is my daughter in your car at this time of night?”

“Mummy please.” I say. Trying to cut her off before she can say anything to damage my rep.

“Was I talking to you? Did you hear your name?”

“Mummy we just went out. So please stop bothering my friend with your questions.”

“N'gbo friend…are you bothered by my questions? Or doesn’t a mother have a right to ask where her unmarried daughter is coming from at this time of night?”

“Er…of course you do ma. We just went to watch a movie and I’m sorry if it’s late.”

“Look BB Guy no need to explain. I’m sorry about this.” I say getting out of the car

“Mummy, please tell Tony to reverse so he can get out.”

It’s like I’m not even speaking because the next thing she does is open his door and tell him to get out of the car.

“Come out my son let me see you. You’re very handsome o. Mena... he is handsome o. You try.”

“Mummy!”

“So are you married?”

“No ma!”

“Are you sure? Don’t think because I’m smiling with you I will not get my boys to deal with you mercilessly if I find out you are trying to turn my daughter into your concubine.”

“I would never dream of that ma.”

“Good boy!” Says my mother breaking into a big grin.

“So fine boy with fine car. My daughter is fine abi? A little fat but I’m sure by the time you marry her and start using her in the way the good Lord intended you will burn all that fat right off her. You look very agile. You actually remind me of my husband at your age. Her father and I could…”

“MOTHER PLEASE!”

I’m absolutely mortified. What on earth is wrong with this woman? Why does she think everyone wants to hear her reminisce about her love life? In one night, she has managed to achieve what my enemies having been trying to do for 2 decades…ruin my life. By the time he tells all his friends and they circulate the news like wildfire around Lagos, no sane man will ever want to date me again. Well, at least BB guy will no longer be available to me for lusting purposes after this, so that’s one problem solved.

“Why are you shouting? Can't me and your friend talk again? Or you are jealous?” she says laughing hysterically.

“Don’t worry. I m not stealing your boyfriend away.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“You are not a serious woman. At your age you are still doing we are just friends? Look! Young man. We are not looking for friends in this family o. We are looking for in-laws, so if you are not ready to become one oya enter your car and go.”

Poor BB guy looks like he just woke up and found himself in a bad horror movie. He tries to get back in his car but my mother pulls him back.

“You mean true true you are going to go? You don’t want to marry my daughter?”

“Well Ma…”says BB guy who has now broken into a cold sweat and is having trouble getting his words out.

“…It’s our first date and we’re still getting to know each other so haven’t really thought about marriage.”

My mother gives him the evils and shouts for the MOPO’s.

At this stage, even I have gone past embarrassed and I’m actually slightly concerned about the crazed look in her eye.

“Mummy please, just leave him alone and let him go.”

“Lamidi!” says my mother ignoring me.

“Write down this boy’s license plate number and find out where he lives. He is to report here every evening for a month to come and get to know Mena. Should he not turn up even for one day, you are to go and find him and bring him here by force if necessary. After one month of getting to know her I either expect to see my future in-laws here with kola for her father or a full report on the reason why my daughter is not marriage material. Understood?”

“Yes ma!”

Shame…kill me now.

“Tony reverse and let him go. As for you Mena…enter house.”

Without even so much as a look in my direction, BB Guy gets in his car and zooms out of there and out of my life for good.

This is going to be my last post people. I don’t think they have Internet in Kirikiri, which is where I’ll be tomorrow after I’m arrested for killing my mother.

OK! Nobody panic but...

2010-07-19T17:03:00.000+01:00

Oh my God! Is that a blinkin' spot on my cheek?

I’ve had perfect skin for the whole year and then today of all days, this! As if that wasn't bad enough, I have nothing to wear!! Despite the 7 large suitcases I bribed customs to allow into the country, my wardrobe is a veritable desert of style. Damn! My shrinking waistline. Who said losing weight would make me even more stylish? They lied dammit! Or at least they should have mentioned the bank I would have to rob to replace my previous designer laden wardrobe. What am I going to do? I have a date and nothing to wear.

Did you say date? I thought you said you were just meeting up with a friend? Ah ah! No wonder you haven’t eaten solid food in three days and you almost peeled off the top layer of your skin in the name of salt scrubbing. Ashawo!

Whatever Brain. This is why I don’t always think true thoughts because I know you’ll be all up in my face about boring things like morals, logic and the way normal people behave. Yes! I’m going on a date. Yes!He’s just a friend and yes it’s too late to talk me out of it.

Se bi we are going together? No probs. You better start praying I don’t decide to make your left eyelid start twitching uncontrollably halfway through dinner. Let’s see how hot your so called "Friend" will think you are when he assumes you have a mental condition.

You wouldn’t?

Try me. So which one of your so called friends are we meeting up with?

Well remember BB Boy? The guy my mate Speedy Gonzales tried to hook me up with? He finally crawled out of the woodwork a couple of months ago, very contrite about the whole standing up issue. So unlike me, but I forgave him but decided never to agree to meet up with him again. At least that was the plan.

Which kin forgiveness is that one? Do you own a different version of the Bible from everybody else?

Whatever! Anyway we started bbing and turns out he’s like the male version of me! So how could I resist when he asked me out again?

Male version of you? Craze + Craze? Lord help us! Se you know I can’t allow such a union to occur for the sake of the entire universe? Can you imagine what would happen if you had kids?

Uuuhhh! Lil’ Mena & BB babies. Yum. Anyway, we got on really well and darn is he hot but unfortunately, as is always the case with my crappy love life, there was just one little snag...

He’s gay? Sane? A cross dresser? Mummy’s boy?

Nope! He’s not Christian!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhh|!!!!!
So mentally I’ve been trying to convince myself not to get all dewy eyed and lustful over him seeing as we can only ever be friends. In the good ol' days when I did not fear the wrath of the Lord, I would just have had my evil way with him and dumped him the minute I spotted someone who was more marriage material. Alas! I am now a changed woman and he will never get to play naughty schoolboy and saucy miss with moi. Kinda makes me wonder why I’m bothering to wear matching La Perla underwear?

Because once an ashawo always an ashawo. I’m sure by the end of dinner you will have convinced yourself that you’re going back to his place to pray for his conversion to Christianity and that sleeping with him is your own sacrifice towards building a greater Christian army abi?

Weeeellllll….

See ya life?

Look Brain I don’t have time for this. He’ll be here in 30 minutes and I’m still in my underwear.

You might as well go like that and save the poor boy the money he will spend on dinner, seeing as the only thing you want won’t be on the restaurant menu.

Ignoring you now. I am a strong Christian woman and will not be led astray by hotness, a naughty sense of humor and witty banter. I can do this.

Ye! I can’t do this o!

My own don finish. He’s turned up to pick me up and before I even see him… I see the car. Now I know what guys mean when they say they’ve got a ha.. on for a car. Guess what he came to pick me up in?

My Porchy Baby!!!!

Brain! Its like devil’s saying “See what you get if you allow naughty Mena to come out and play?”

We no go let her come out like this?

Hey! Brain stop making my eyelids twitch!

Fine! No naughty miss.

It took every ounce of self control to stop myself from running to the car, putting my head on its bonnet and stroking its lovely grey metallic finish. Instead I walked over, got in and was faced with the next temptation of the evening…Hot BB Guy.

Hot car +Hot guy + Mena who hasn’t had either in a while = Straight to hell and a very lucky BB boy.

All through out the evening I kept having to tell myself not to get all sex kitten on the poor guy. Just friends. No accidental touching, lips brushing ears whilst whispering in the cinema (Don’t mess with me o. I’m a pro.) or come hither gazes. Well at least I won’t be doing that but if he feels led to then who am I to stop him.

On the way home, mine not his before you all start shouting, he cracks a joke about being a gentleman and taking me straight home rather than to his place and maybe it was the sugar rush from all that popcorn, the uncomfortable thong that nobody but me was going to appreciate or the endless months in the snogless desert, but something in me just snapped and I said...

"I know enough gentlemen, why don’t you try being something different?"

Ennnnnn! Ashawo with first class honours! How did you manage to get that sentence past my ashawo defence system?

He looks at me.

I look at him

Porchy Baby looks at both of us, quietly screaming “Don’t you dare get busy on my Italian leather interior!!!” and ….

Bunny Boilers wanted!

2010-07-14T17:01:00.000+01:00

You people are not serious o.

Why are you all harassing me for my life story? I have told you the necessary lubricant needed to fix my rusty blogging wheels...Money! And since you have all refused to cough up so I can be a bigz girl, I will tell my story when and if I please. Abi na by force?

Have you noticed that you’re becoming razzer by the day girl?

Ki lo mean?

That’s what I mean.

Oh! I have become a tad local in my delivery of the English language. That’s why I need to leave these ibi ise people and hang with my fellow posh speaking compatriots. And how am I supposed to do that if I’m giving you people freebies all the time?

Anyway, for the sake of peace I will continue with the story but first…

I know what I want to do with my life now. My calling was revealed to me yesterday whilst watching Fatal Attraction. I will become a psycho stalker girlfriend for hire. I will set up an agency of highly trained women to stalk and terrorise the cheating male population. Wives & girlfriend's can hire us to teach their straying boos a lesson. By the time I'm done carving " I love you and I'll rather kill you than lose you" on to the side of his brand new jeep, he will be too scared to even look at his own mother let alone another woman.

Okkkk…What’s brought on this drastic career change then?

Well, walking home yesterday...

Ennnnn!!! Bigz girl you dey waka? Chai upon all the mouth.

Will you come on shut up. My office is round the corner from my house. No point polluting the planet any further. Think of the ozone layer dammit!

Lagos no get ozone layer. Talk true you no get money for red cab again abi?

I'm ignoring you commoner.

As I was saying...Walking home and guess who happened to see me and start honking?

Ain't got a clue?

Alhaji! Alhaji!!

I tried to pretend I hadn’t seen him but he came out of his car and started calling my name. See this alakoba. It's bad enough I have to walk through Lagos traffic and everyone thinks I’m poor, now he wants them to know my name as well. Rather than further embarrass myself by letting him scream my name any louder, I acknowledge his presence with a quick wave.

"Are you going home?" he says, ignoring the fact that all the bored motorists are now staring at us hoping for gist.

No ode! I just like to walk the streets of Lagos.

"Yes. Just off home. Nice to see you."

"Let me drop you off."

"It's fine. I’m almost there and you’re heading the wrong way anyway."

"I don't mind. I’ll turn the car around."

"In this traffic? It’s really quicker for me to walk."

"Come on. It will give us a chance to talk."

"About?"

"You know" he says giving me a sexy gap toothed grin.

I no know o! Get thee behind me evil fornicator. In front of all these gbeborun drivers you want to koba me? It’s OK. I can now see that refusing your advances is not the way to go.

You want to date me abi? You go date me tire.

Ladies! Some men just don’t know the meaning of the word "NO!". They assume they are too hot to be rejected and your constant refusals are you playing hard to get. I mean, you’ve read my blog and I have made it clear that ain't interested right? So I think its time to move to plan B.

Now before I start, let me just warn you that plan B is not for the faint hearted. For it to fully work you must be a little crazy, which I am and fully committed to The Exotic Ones 5 step plan to rid yourself of pests. Once you can accept these terms we are good to go…

Step 1: Pests never give up. It is their sole aim in life to win. So they will continue to harass you in the hope that one day you will be too depressed and lonely to know what you are doing and agree to meet up with them, sleep with them etc. So next time he calls or BB’s don’t ignore him. Respond. Be very friendly. Welcome his advances and agree to meet up with him. Lure him into a false sense of security. He’ll be thinking “Ashawo don gree at last. I’ve still got it” and you’ll be thinking “Now your ass is mine you cheating cockroach”.

Step 2: This is very important!!! The morning after your conversation/meeting, send this text/BB message

Good morning Love of my life. Dreamt about our wedding last night. It’s a sign that we are destined to be. I'm so glad you brought me round to your way of thinking. So what colour shirt are you wearing today so we can colour co-ordinate.

A normal man will take this as a sign that all ain’t right in this particular girl’s world and start to back away. But believe me there will be those who are a tad slow and will be feeling like a "G" thinking "There’s no way she ain’t gonna let me hit that." There will also be others who know you're probably crazy but then decide they ain’t ever done a crazy chick and keep a coming.

Step 3: By lunch time of the same day, ensure that you have called every hour on the hour to ask if he’s missed you. Make sure you address him by a new term of endearment every time he’s stupid enough to pick up the phone…Hello darling, sweetum’s, o lo lu fe mi, my yori yori... The possibilities are endless. At some point during the day he will eventually stop taking your calls. You will then move on to e-mails, text messages and BBing. Only when he has blocked your e-mails and removed you from his BB list can you stop but not before he notices that you have changed your BB status to “The soon to be Mrs…..”

Step 4: A normal guy should be really turned off by now. But judging from my experience most pests aren’t normal. They are still hoping to hit it and run and like I said some guys are turned on by needy and crazy. So you’re gonna have take it up a notch and give him crazy. It’s up to you to decide what you want to do but it must involve public humiliation. I suggest waiting for him outside his office wearing a t-shirt that says “Insert pest's name here My O lo lu fe mi works here” and dancing to the tune of the talking drummers you have hired to serenade him out of the office into his car.

Step 5: This is usually not necessary after the public humiliation. At this point he should have snapped, threatened to deal with you and warned you never to come near him again. If he hasn’t then I beg just sleep with the bobo so you can move on with your life because his own crazy don pass my own.

Anyway I am expecting Alhaji to call any day now and then his cheating ass is mine.

As for my life story...might continue in my next post or I might not.

Darn it's good having all the power.

In the beginning...

2010-07-09T13:40:00.003+01:00

On many occasions people have asked me…

Exotic One (You thought I would forget my new chosen name abi?) why can’t you be nice and rational like other people?

Normally I would respond with a well aimed Waka or if I am within arse kicking distance… Haya! Who is not nice and rational? Take that and that!

Well, today I am in a good mood so I will tell you why I am like this but in order to delve deep into The Exotic One’s psyche we must start at the beginning….

Once upon a time (That’s my personal biographer. All the bigz girlz have one), many years ago...

“Hey! Dey send you come? Easy on the "Many" mate. Don’t want people thinking I am already claiming my pension.”

Sorry. Let’s begin again.

Once upon a time, not too many years ago, there lived a very handsome Policeman and a beautiful Dental Hygienist. The Policeman was very much in love with The Dental Hygienist but knew she came from a strict Muslim family and would never entertain the idea of marrying a Christian. So he hid his feelings and spent his days having unnecessary dental work done just so he could be near her. During a rather painful tooth extraction(totally unnecessary but worth every ounce of pain as he could just about see the top of her boobs every time she bent over), The policeman, high on morphine, finally declared his undying love and proposed to The Dental Hygienist, who was so shocked, she pulled out the wrong tooth.

The Dental Hygienist, who had always had a secret crush on The Policeman, was thrilled to bits that he felt the same way. Having just broken up with her steady boyfriend, Mechanic by day, Palm wine tapper by night Guy, she had been feeling a tad despondent about her future marriage prospects. All her other friends were married and she was starting to panic over when she was going to meet someone else.

But as the say, “The Lord works in mysterious ways”. To think her future husband had been coming here all this time to get his teeth whitened and he was such a catch too. A policeman, which meant he got a pretty decent, regular pay packet (This was in the good ol' days people. When the law and a uniform meant something dammit!) and he drove a Mercedes (Sadly The Dental Hygienist was a tad too much of a romantic/gold digger and neglected to focus on more important aspects like personality etc). God, her friend Lara would just die of envy. To think she had been jealous of her and her husbands Suzuki motorcycle. Well, let’s see who’ll be green with envy now. There was only one problem standing in the way of The Dental Hygienists dream…her parents.

I believe you may be starting to see some similarities now.

The Dental Hygienist came from a strict Muslim home and had been brought up to always believe she would marry a Muslim. She was a very dutiful daughter and would usually never do anything to upset her parents but on this occasion she decided to be brave and tell them of The Policeman’s marriage proposal and how she wanted to accept it. Several hot slaps and “Over my dead bodies” later. The Dental Hygienist lay sobbing on her bed wondering why her parents hated her and if she would ever be happy again. The thought of Lara never being green with envy and how she might have to take back her cheating palm wine tapping boyfriend just so she could get married and leave home, was too much for her to bear and she contemplated topping herself. Then a little voice in her head said

You do know you don’t have to do everything your parents tell you

“Yes I do”

Well have a happy life washing Mechanic by Day,Palm Wine Tapper by nights, oil stained overalls then.

“Oh God! I can’t but they would never forgive me if I went behind their backs”

They’re your parents. They will forgive you and even if they don’t, you get to ride around in a Mercedes. All your friends will hate you. They’ll say they are happy for you but deep down they’ll hate you for being so lucky.

“It does have leather seats and a cassette player” (Ah! The simple days. Me I ain’t greeing for anyone that doesn’t have state of the art CD/TV & Blu Ray player in their car o. I don talk my own)

Now that’s what I’m talking about. Now you’re thinking like a grown up. What the hell are you waiting for? Your key word for today is “Elopement”.

So having convinced herself that her parents would one day forgive her. The Dental Hygienist packed a little bag and snuck out of her house that night and into the arms of The Policeman. They were married at the Registry office the very next day. (You have to give my Mama props sha. Damn! The girl is fast)

On hearing the disastrous news that his oldest daughter had given herself to an infidel without even so much as a bottle of Schnapps in bride price, Alhaji Dental Hygienist, sharpened his trusty cutlass and set off to seek vengeance. No one was going to stop him from cutting of The Policeman’s head even if it meant spending the rest of eternity in jail. As far as he was concerned jail might not even be such a bad idea if it got him away from Alhaja Dental Hygienist’s constant nagging about money, food etc. Come to think of it. Now that The Dental Hygienist was married, she would have to look after her aging parents. She had said something about him being in the police force and he knew they got paid well, not to mention the fact that it wouldn’t hurt to have some police muscle within the family to make sure no one was rude to him again (Alhaji Dental Hygienist was a very short man often referred to as Baba Kukuru and Half measure which peed him the hell off).

As Alhaji Dental Hygienists little brain kept whirring, he’s steps got slower. Until he was standing by the side of the road grinning to himself about how he could turn his silly daughters treachery into his good fortune. Afterall, it was better to have a daughter married to a rich heathen that could put people in jail than a cheating Palm wine tapper. Several cartons of Schnapps later and an oath from The Policeman that he would convert to Islam(Which he obviously never did. Men! They will tell you the sky is orange if it gets them into your knicker), the Alhaji welcomed him to into the family and promptly sent him to arrest his neighbour for calling him "Alhaji Kunkulu".

The Policeman and The Dental Hygienist went on to do great things. They moved to Lagos with their little family but our real story begins ladies and gentleman on the 7th day of January 197….

Hey! Hey! Hey! What did I tell you about dates relating to my age?

Sorry Exotic One. It won’t happen again.

Darn skippy it won’t happen again. You’re fired. I’ll tell my own darn story. If you want something done right, then do it yourself. Let’s see, where were we? Blah blah blah…Yeah right, so ladies and gentlemen our real story begins on the 7th of January 19 none of your beeswax, when The Policeman & The Dental Hygienist gave birth to a little princess and called her Mena.

Obviously they had other children at this stage but they were all inconsequential as far as their little princess, Mena was concerned. Born with lovely smooth caramel complexion and a gummy smile that could melt any heart, Mena was the apple of her parent’s eye.

Mena got only the best. Whilst her other older siblings were raised on pap and cerelac, She was only given the finest imported baby food. Whilst they pushed rusty tires down the streets, Mena played with her baby Lego and silver My Little Pony rattle. Whilst they others fought over the mangy family pet, Bingo the dog. Mena had her own little pony called “Esin mi Trixibelle (My horse Trixibelle)”. Yep! Mena had it good. She didn’t want for anything and had her parent’s undivided attention

So when did it all start to go wrong you wonder?

Yes Mummy & Daddy dearest. When did it all start to go wrong for the apple of your eye? Could it be 13 months later when someone forgot to read their family planning leaflet and bam, bam…Two more members of the clan. The moment I saw those 2 little bawling faces in the hospital I realized that the life I deserved wasn’t going to happen. These 2 interlopers were sent to pour sand sand in my garri.

So what happened next Me...We mean Exotic One?

God save you.

Well you will have to wait until my autobiography is published and pay N100, 000 pere for a copy.

Jokers! You all think you are smart abi? You want hear better gist for free? Shio…Wait for me I am coming.

Is that the sound of my standards dropping?

2010-07-08T14:07:00.001+01:00

Na lie! Today is the day I never thought I would see. Upon all my hotness…Bad Weave get boyfriend before me. I no longer want to live in a world where this is possible. Brain shut down all vital organs now and let us leave this cruel, cruel world.

You and who? You are on your own o. I’m not leaving any world until I experience big girl living and lampashing that makes our toes curl.

See you? Why are you so cheap?

Dey ask me.

It's not your fault. Anyway, he came to see her in the office today and whilst he ain’t bad looking, the pointy alligator shoes and the inability to complete a sentence without saying “Sho mo?” was like a soothing balm to my pain. It makes sense that razzos would attract razzo’s. I mean look at her today.

Where the hell did she get that shirt? I think I can actually see my face in its highly reflective surface. Who knew kitchen foil fabrics were the next big thing in fashion? And those jeans??!!!! Didn’t she get the fashion memo? Stone wash don die now. I beg let it rest in peace and stop trying to resurrect it. Bad Weave girl…I salute you! You have once again managed to turn dress down Thursdays into a day of thanksgiving, that I was one of the first people on the queue the day the good Lord was dishing out styyylllleee.

I can see you eyeing my cute black French connection playsuit and Miss Sixty flip flops. Pele! It must be hard not being me. Actually maybe being me is not so great anymore. I mean if she can nab a man in her the “The blind must see clothing” and dodgy hair. What's the point of being fabulous when all I seem to attract are horny pervs? BOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Thank God tomorrow is Friday. Almost at the end of a truly torturous week. I can go home and soothe my pain with ice cream and cheap alcohol. I know a lot of you are muttering under your breath about my lack of posts during the week and all I can say to your valid complaints is “Kiss my heiny! Kiss it! Kiss it! Kiss it!”

Mena!!!

What?! I’m in pain jo and I have told you that I am a free and exotic spirit and will no longer let your boring, socially acceptable constraints hold me back. Allow me to be free o. If I want to insult members of the general reading public just leave me to express myself.

OK then. Knock yourself out exotic one.

Hmm.. I like that...Exotic one. That’s it! From now one I shall no longer be known as Mena. You shall all call me "The Exotic One”.

OK Exotic. Heads up! The Human Boli approaches

Are you crazy? Can't you follow a simple instruction? I said “The Exotic One” not “Exotic”. That just sounds like a filthy go go bar.

What does this one want now?

Boli Lover, who has just returned from his banishment in Ivory Coast after a failed sales negotiation, plants his polyester /nylon mix covered behind on my desk and cracks a “One day u go gree” smile at me.

I match his “You go gree” with a “Not in this or any other lifetime mate” smile and finish him off with a “You need to respect yourself “ gaze. Joker! He’s only been back 1 day and he’s already started harassing me with his dry convo.

“So fine girl! Wetin dey now? “

“Nuthin”

“ I've really missed you girl"

Ewww...Down boy.

"You’re looking so good today." He says, he's eyes resting too long on my assets for my liking.

Agbaya! Gbe oju re so oke.

"In fact, I'm sure you must have found some guy that’s really taking care of you?”

Story. Is this his way of trying to find out if I hooked up with someone whilst he was away? Like I'm going to fall for that. Keep guessing mate.

You have to admire his persistence though. If getting girls was based on effort he wouldn’t be able to leave his house with the women camped outside his door. Alas! Its based on hot looks, witty repertoire and the ability to buy me dinner somewhere where all the food isn’t displayed in a heated buffet rack.

But after this latest development with Bad Weave and my ongoing “NORMAL”man drought, maybe I should stop fighting him and just succumb to a life of sequined, see through lace iro and buba’s and children that say “Maami! Hunger dey wire me.”

Mena what are you saying? Snap out of your self pitying state immediately. We have never and will never stoop that low. For Gods sake look at the man. He can barely button his shirt over his enormous stomach and he’s got bigger boobs than you.

Yes but…

No buts. We have waited this long and we shall continue to wait until the right one comes along.

But Bad Weave…

Forget her. The guy probably sings Fuji whilst lampashing her. Is that what you want?

No but…

A Fuji singing lampsher who wants you to wear stone wash clothing?

No

Cause if that’s what you want,I can make it happen

I said Noooo Brain!!!

Good. Now pull yourself together.

Sniff…Fine! But its not fair. Why do all men just want to sleep with me?

I know I'm hot and my assets walk into the room before I do but still. There is more to me than 100% Brazilian hair (no mangy Bar beach horse hair mixed into this weave. Mena’s coming up in the world), sexy dresses and a face that lights up the room. I'm intelligent, funny, make my own money, can be caring when I'm in the mood, can cook and I can even contort my ample frame into interesting bendy shapes. Really if that ain't wife material I don’t know what is? And yet all I get are pervs. I need reassurance that I'm more than just hot.

I call my mate Loony Dude

“Hey Loony! Would you marry me if we weren’t friends?”

“Nope. Not in a million years.”

"You seem pretty sure about that?Why?”

“You know you craze now? I no fit put craze woman for house. My mama no go gree. “

“Be serious jare. Why do guys just want to shag me?”

“Cause that’s what guys do and anyway you’re way too sexual. You’re always hair tossing, giggling, giving seductive “take me now “ looks.

“E mi ? Never!”

“Oh you do Missy. You might not know you’re doing it but I doubt that. So within the first 5 minutes of meeting you all the guy is thinking of is where’s the nearest closet so I can have my evil way with her.

“That’s so not fair. Yes I might be a little flirtatious when I see someone I like but who isn’t?”

“You see its just not with people you like. You do it with everyone, that’s why the entire male staff of Shoprite are always trying to look down your dress.

"So what are you saying? Men don't like flirty women?"

"Oh we like em. We just dont marry them. Ciao"

Really??? Can it be so? Is this "Normal" man drought my doing? Am I driving them away with an overabundance of sexy pheremones? But I can't help it if I ooze sex appeal.

Sod Loony Dude. What the hell does he know?

I’ll call my sis. She’ll be honest.

"Sis am I a flirt?"

"How the hell would I know? Look don’t put me under pressure with your questions. I'm busy. Market Boy caught me wearing matching underwear today and wahala don happen. He is demanding I take casual leave at once and return home to show him what his bride price money paid for."

"Okkkk. Don’t you usually wear matching underwear or why the drama?"

"What for? You want to kill me? Look at the trouble they have caused already. That's why they only come out on special occasions. Look go away and don’t koba me. He’s threatening to call mum and tell her I'm depriving him of his rights and you know what mums like when it comes to to stuff like that."

Click

One of these days…

Maybe I should ask Mum. She claims to be an authority on all things Man catching related.

"Mummy somebody called me a flirt. Do you think its true?"

"You? Are they blind? You with your “Sun no fit touch my body” clothing and 8 inch Brazilian hair. I beg let me hear word. Sometimes I wonder if you are really my daughter? When I was your age I didn’t even have enough days to date all the men that wanted me but look at you. Monday to Sunday you are at home burning my diesel and eating my food.. You better go and see how your mates are doing it and stop wasting time. Anyway your father and I have decided that if you don’t bring anyone home before the end of the year we are spending your wedding money on a round the world cruise. A word is enough for the wise.

My own fantasy dream wedding money on a holiday?

Ko le sele.

I beg Boli Lover come, make we talk better thing. A little dieting, some new clothes and we might yet turn you into marriage material.

Business + Pleasure = Bad idea

2010-06-25T14:14:00.000+01:00

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.

The Client is always right??

2010-06-24T15:15:00.004+01:00

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.

I'm Jonesing for a night out.

2010-06-10T15:29:00.001+01:00

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.

Hey! Whats with all the zeros?

2010-06-09T13:38:00.004+01:00

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.

The Gambia Chronicles 2

2010-06-08T15:38:00.004+01:00

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.

The Gambia Chronicles

2010-06-07T08:29:00.000+01:00

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!

No be curse. Na karma.

2010-06-01T16:02:00.000+01:00

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.

Alhaji...Take two.

2010-05-28T12:51:00.001+01:00

OK! Someone needs to tell me where to go for deliverance because I am getting so tired of all the undesirables that are trying to get a piece of me.

You all remember Alhaji! Alhaji! Don’t you? The hottie with a wifey? Well since our date, he has refused to take no for an answer. He calls up every other day and sends me pointless e-mails. All of which I ignore because I fear Gods wrath more than I fear lonely nights and spinster hood. I refuse to be turned into a pillar of salt for any man. Not even a rich, hot, gap toothed, probably a freak in the bedroom man. But rather than accept the fact that I ain't interested and move on to his next victim, he just keeps trying new and improved ways to get to me.

He calls me up this morning on an unknown number. I just assumed it was one of my peeps from the UK and so I was already smiling, as I was in the mood to waste my oga's time and money on a 15 minute girly gossip.

“Hello”

“Hi beautiful”

Hmm… Bunnylicious needs to stop taking all those Chinese "Make Happy" all night herbs. She’s starting to sound all manly and stuff. And since when does she call me beautiful?

Wake up Dumbo. It’s obviously not her. Geez.

Shut it Brain. I knew that. I was just testing you.

“Hi, who is this?”

“You mean you’ve forgotten my voice already?”

Lord! Why do people think they are witty when they say that? Er…obviously? It’s not like you’re the only human being in the world, let alone the only one I speak too. Learn some phone etiquette damn it and identify yourself.

“Looks like it. I guess you’ll have to help me out.”

“Well,who’s the one man you know you need in your life right now?”

Jesus. That’s right I need Jesus in my life, to shield me from ireti’s with access to mobile phones. I think I’m just going to hang up. Already bored of this dry game and I need to pee really badly.

“I haven’t got a clue but I really need to go now.”

“Don’t go. Ok. It’s me… Alhaji.”

Gasp! Evil, conniving, hot bastard. How dare he try and sneak in under my finely tuned radar.

“I’ve asked you to stop calling me.”

“I know but today’s my birthday and I was hoping you would make an exception and at least talk to me.”

Story story! Birthday my ass. Do married men suddenly become single for 24 hours on their birthday because that news to me? Even if it is his birthday what’s he expecting from me?

“Well happy birthday. I hope you have a great day but I really need to go now.”

“Mena please stop being so hard on me. I just want to spend some time with you.”

“What part of you are not allowed to hang out with me are you not getting?”

“Who says I’m not allowed to be with you?I’m telling you I’m allowed.”

This one don see mumu. Does he have a note from his wife letting him come out to play? Actually he might do. Maybe they are one of those kinky couples that like to invite guests over for sleep over’s? Yuck. Need to nip this convo in the butt.

“OK. Alhaji. I really do have to go. I hope you have a great day. Bye.”

Click.

Prat. Trying to spoil my day with impure thoughts.

Anyway thought that was my minor irritation of the day out of the way nice and early. So I could enjoy the rest of my Friday dossing around on the internet. At about 10.30am, just as I finished eating a cupcake in front of a ravenous Rat Boy (Yes, he still in my bad books and I have found his weakness... Food. The boy is a major grobido), I notice the whole department go quiet.

I knew something was wrong when Bad Weave girl actually stopped mid flirt with Ladies Man and seemed to lose all sensory perception. Ladies Man, in turn stopped ignoring her and started flexing his muscles and adjusting his tie. Rat Boy was still eyeing the cake crumbs on my table and was totally unaware that anything was going on. I turn around to see what finally stopped Bad Weave’s inane chatter about how she was a good cook and Ladies Man needed to come round to try her beans.

Beans?? Come on woman. Even I know better than to try and seduce a guy with a flatulence inducing meal.

Lo and behold in the doorway to my crappy department was Alhaji. I swear the light seemed to shimmer behind him casting him in a sexy seductive glow. He smiled and Bad Weave girl almost broke her leg getting off Ladies Man’s table and sprinting over to him.

“Good morning Sir. I’m Bad Weave. Can I help you?” she says trying to push her Agbalumo sized breasts as far as they will go.

I swear. If I wasn’t so irritated I’d be laughing.

“It's alright Bad Weave, he’s here for me” I say before he can respond.

Bad Weave gives me a look that says “Die bitch. Must you have everything I want?"

Oh Honey! If only you knew.

“Alhaji, can I talk to you outside please?”

As we make our way out of the office, I can see the girls all lusting and the guys all hatin. If only he was single. I would have taken great joy in parading him up and down the office on a regular basis.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

See this enemy of progress? Please don't think about me o. I don't know what kind of "Any girl you think of will go and meet her fore fathers" juju your wife has going on.

“Ok you need to stop this. For the last time, I DON’T DATE MARRIED MEN!”

“What if I told you the marriage was a mistake and I’m trying to get out of it? All I’m asking for is time. Just wait for me. Don’t start seeing anyone else. I don’t think I could bear to lose you.”

At this stage I had to look over my shoulder because I expected Basket Mouth or AY to jump out from behind a car and say “Mena welcome to my hilarious new candid camera show …Dey send you come?!”

Is this friggin joker for real?

Well excuse me...

2010-05-27T14:01:00.001+01:00

It’s that time of the month again…

Ah,ah! Ki lo de? We don’t really want to know now.

Shut it peasants! Wasn’t talking about the monthlies. Was talking about getting my hair done. Next time why don’t you let a girl finish before you jump in there all offended? Hissss....

As I was saying…it’s that time of the month when you look into the mirror and you know something just ain't right. Is it my eyebrows? Nope! Still plucked and brushed to perfection. My face in general? Please! Babe! You know there’s nothing wrong with your gorgeousness…mmmm

Na wa for this your own hotness Mena. Na only u? Lets even see you sef then we can judge for ourselves.

See who? Will you come on gerraway!

Nonsense! Fear no even catch you. You want to gaze upon my ethereal beauty just like that? Please don’t upset me today.

Where was I? Yeah, so after having done your beauty countdown you come to the conclusion that’s it’s got be the hair holding you back. I’ve had my weave for 3 weeks now and I’m starting to resemble bad weave girl (I rebuke it), who by the way has moved on from the weave to her own natural hair. You would think that’s got be better but it’s dyed an awful wine red color. Arrrgh!!!! My eyes! My eyes! I’ve been blinded by the sheer wrongness of it. How can you people expect me to work and thrive under these conditions? All I ask for is to be surrounded by equally (it will be hard sha) beautiful people. Not these rejects from the era style forgot.

So the question now is what to do? Been a weave girl since I arrived in good ol' Lagos and I need a change. Especially since I no longer have a bangin weave stylist. I need something that reflects my weird, sensuous and exciting personality.

Shuku ma fit e.

Waka... Please stop talking to me.

Sebi you want to be weird and wonderful ni? Don’t worry by the time that Shuku brings out the weird and wonderful features of your ogo and opon…Men! The boys will just be falling.

Ignoring you jealous haters. Shall turn to the Internet and my peeps for inspiration. Oh! That’s a nice one. Urban and sassy kinky fro. Will BB it to Speedy Gonzales for feedback.

I love my BB. It’s my little, black compact lover. It lets me talk, play music, surf the net for shoes and it vibrates too (Make of that what you will people). If only it could legally marry me. I would give up the hunt for Mr. Right. Unfortunately it’s just a machine and I need someone to pay for my boob reduction in the near future.

Ping!

Hooray! I got a ping.

Speedy Gonzales: What’s this?

Mena: Style I’m thinking of doing. U like?

Speedy Gonzales: Why are you always trying to channel Diana Ross or Wurzel Gummidge?

Mena: Whatcha talking about girl?

Speedy Gonzales: What’s with all the big hair? How the hell is someone supposed to find you under all that hair let alone decide if they fancy you? Speaking of fancying you, met some guy the other day that I think will be perfect for you.

Hmm…was going to end the convo after her rude remarks about my hair preferences. Diana Ross indeed. Is she blind? It’s definitely Erykah Badu at work. Anyway she said the magic words guy and perfect in one sentence.

Mena: Tell me more. What’s his name?

Speedy Gonzales: BB guy

Mena: He got a last name. Need to Google him to make sure he’s not on Americas most wanted or Interpol.

Speedy Gonzales: No. like I said just met him.

Mena: OK, so what does he do?

Speedy Gonzales: Don’t know but he’s cute

Mena: Ooook… How do you know he’s perfect for me?

Speedy Gonzales: Well he drives a bad ass mini and he’s single.

Mena: Errr…I’m sorry but is that all you’ve based your assessment on?

Speedy Gonzales: Look Miss Snooty pants. In this current single men shortage, that’s all you need for him to be perfect for you.

Mena: But…

Speedy Gonzales: Stop typing and let me finish. He has a bad ass car means he has a job and won’t be calling you between 1am and 5am in order to save credit. Also means he’s quirky, which you like and most importantly he’s single which means you won’t spend every date looking over your shoulder waiting for his Mrs. to jump out and slap you senseless.

Mena: But…

Speedy Gonzales: Stop typing damn it! I’ve given him your BB pin and when he BB’s, you will be charming, act normal and not discuss any of your many issues or personalities. And when you go on your first date you better not have any hammer house of horror hair on your head. I’m sick and tired of you moaning about being single and then when someone tries to help you get all Prima Donna. You better don’t mess this up. Now you can type.

Well excuse me for living. I ain’t typing nuthin. Too young to die in a fiery ball of BB insults. Fine! I will allow this virtual stranger into my BB world. I will go on a date and when he hacks me to pieces and uses his friggin “Quirky mini ” to dispose of my body off Third Mainland Bridge, she’ll be sorry. Bet she’ll wish I had my urban kinky Afro then, so it will be easy to identify my remains.

“Yes officer. It’s her. No one could carry an urban kinky Afro like she could” Sob.

Speedy Gonzales: Hey! You still there? You wanted to say something?

Mena: It’s OK. I’m good.

Speedy Gonzales: Sure?

Mena: Yes.

Speedy Gonzales: Cool. Get back to work then. Talk to you later.

Mena: Bye

Hahahahahahahahaha! Sepe Mena get master??

Sod off nincompoops!

Getting myself an Urban and sassy Afro even if it kills me and I don't care what she or her precious BB Guy think.

Help! There's a Mad Cow behind the wheel.

2010-05-18T14:20:00.000+01:00

Crazy "Can’t find her way out of a paper bag" Malu!

It’s been an hour of driving round in circles and now we don’t even know where the hell we are. This not my idea of a relaxing evening. I thought I’d have replaced 80% of my fluid content with Vodka(I know…Vodka is not my friend,but can you lot really blame me if I turn to drink?) by now and I”d be hitting on the bartender. I ain't happy. I should have known the words trendy, bar and mainland didn’t work in a sentence. There I was all excited about getting out of the house after my mothers little episode this morning...

Turns out shes a bit of a sharp shooter after all. After sitting in the burning sun for hours, she finally went back in the house and Lamidi and I breathed a sigh of relief. I jumped back into bed and prepared myself for sweet dreams about my new, might be conquest...The Alhaji(more about him later). Only to have Lamidi come knocking on my door 20 minutes later.

"Small madam, I beg come see ya mama."

Arrrgghhh!!!! Why does she hate me so much?

"What is it now Inspector Lamidi?"

"I no fit explain am. You need to come see for ya self."

Fine! I throw on my dressing gown and storm out of my bedroom. I'm about to give that woman a piece of my mind. I don't care if she never speaks to me again. I get outside and I see nothing. I turn to Lamidi with a puzzled look and he just points up at the tree. I look up and I don't see anything.

"Inspector what are you looking at? Where's my mother?"

Once again I look up and just as I'm about to ask him what the hell is wrong with him, I see a slight movement in the leaves. Sure enough, now dressed in khaki overalls, from God knows where, is my mother with her face covered in charcoal, sitting precariously on tree branch with her gun aimed at the nest. I know I should say something to try and get her down from there but to be honest, I no longer care.

"Inspector please bring the car round so that in case she falls you can make a quick dash to the hospital. I'm going back to sleep. Only wake me if she falls and you see blood or something, otherwise, please leave me alone."

To cut a long story short, she was out there till about 6pm when Annoying Married Chick arrived with her friend to pick me up. It was only just as we were leaving, that the stupid bird came back and got its head blown off. My mother is now at home doing her victory dance and I am stuck in the car with Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum.

“Look why don’t you just stop the car and ask for directions, instead of driving around burning up petrol?”

“En stop the car ke. Can’t u see area boys all over the place?” Says her friend.

“No we can’t stop here o. And I’ve told you to move the middle lane. It’s dangerous to be on this lane with the traffic. Anyone can try to get into the car.”

Get into which car? What is this one talking about? See me see trouble. All this people that want to kill me before I get me some opposite sex action.

“What do you mean get into the car?”

“That’s what they do in these areas. If you drive next to the pavement and you get caught in traffic, area boys try and get in the car to rob you.”

Lord have mercy! I immediately start to remove my Swarovski crystal earrings, my Toy watch and my mama’s gold bracelet, which I borrowed without asking. I shove them into my bra and pray my mother’s logic actually works. I knew I should have stayed at home and let her slather my aching ribs in Robb like she wanted. Now I’m about to be robbed and violated on a filthy Lagos street because of my “No know road” sister.

Hmmm…that rhymes. I have been robbed of my Robb…hehehe.

For Gods sake brain! Focus! I’m about to be murdered and you’re playing rhyming games.

“Ok, please move to the middle lane like your friend said and call your husband to find out how we get out of here.”

“U craze!”

See! She’s not as posh as she makes out.

“Call which husband? Se the one that's been BBing me Barry White Lyrics all day? God forbid. I had to tell him I was going to choir practice on the Island so I could avoid lampashing duties tonight. So not going to happen. How am I supposed to explain my sudden appearance in the middle of no where? I’d rather take my chances with the area boys than with Market Boy. Not to mention the fact that he will kill me if I scratch his car again. Both of you get a grip. We’ll be fine. No one is going to rob us and even if they tried, I’ll scream and they’ll run away.”

See? See why I don’t treat her like a normal human being? Does she think she is a banshee or why would her mere croaky screaming drive away hardened criminals? I’m seriously contemplating getting out of the car, giving the area boys my worldly possessions and a flash of boob in the hope that they will call me a red cab to take me away from all this.

“Okay can we at least get an Okada to take us back to the island?”

“How do we know he is not in league with armed robbers? 3 lost girls…he could take us to the middle of nowhere and rob us.” says the friend

Lord help me, If someone doesn't make a decision on how we get out of here in the next 3 seconds, I'm going to kill my own sister and her friend. Just as I'm wondering which one I should take out first, there's a loud banging on the roof of the car and and scary looking face appears at the window.

Annoying Married Chick also now known as Banshee from Warri starts screaming (I must say she does have a pretty good set of lungs on her). Her friend starts reciting Psalm 98 at the top of her voice and I immediately duck for cover and try to squeeze my fat ass under one of the car seats with little success. Damn my womanly curves. Unable to hide under the seat, I consider the option of making a run for it but what about my sister and her friend?

Sod them both I say. Hell! I've known my sister forever. We share the same DNA and all but I sure as hell ain't dying for her let alone some random friend who I don't know from Adam. Every woman for herself. Just as I am about to make a move...Why the evil cow! The friend has already beat me to it and has legged it out of the car. She was now running down the street, weaving in and out of traffic like a Christmas turkey who managed to escape. If I wasn't so pissed that she beat me to it, I'd be rather impressed with her ducking and diving running techniques to avoid any oncoming bullets.

Banshee Girl is still screaming. I clamber into the front seat, slam the door shut and lock it. I grab my sister by the shoulders, shake her and slap her a couple of times to get her to stop screaming and focus. Well, the first slap was to get her to focus. The 2 other hot slaps were for bringing me to this hellish part of town and for stealing my barbie hair slides when we were little(no one steals accessories from me and gets away it. I'll get you eventually).

"Stop screaming and drive the blinking car out of here woman. Drive, drive, drivvvvvvvvvvvveeeee!!!!"

Finally out of her scream induced vegetative state, Banshee girl becomes Get Away Driver girl and maneuvers her way into another lane,steps on the accelerator, weaving in and out traffic. Horns are blaring, other drivers are cursing but she doesn't care. She's gonna get her and her sister out of there alive. I don't know how she did it but somehow she made it out without even a scratch on the car and back into civilisation. My hero!

"Sis you were awesome. How they hell did you learn to drive like that?"

"Shut up. You think I don't know you were enjoyed slapping me?"

"Emi ke? No o. I did it to save our lives. Aren't you happy we are alive?"

"Whatever!"

"Hey! why are you stopping the car?"

"There's an empty red cab just there by the side of the road. If you run, you can catch it before it drives off. Either way I ain't heading back to the Island. All that fear and fast driving has got me in a lampashing mood and I'm going home to make Market Boy a very happy man. So you can either take the red cab or come home with me and sleep on the sofa but the walls are very thin so.... The choice is yours but I'd hurry if I were you cause the cab's starting to pull into traffic."

5 minutes later I'm sitting in the back of the red cab listening to the drivers best of Shina Peters CD compilation. I hate my life. Oh my God! Is that Annoying Married Chicks friend we just drove past running on Third mainland bridge? I guess I could go back and pick her up? What the hell...let her run. Serves her right for abandoning our fine asses to the mercy of area boys.

Life might not be so bad after all.

Mums, Minions & Machineguns

2010-05-18T14:15:00.000+01:00

Ow! My aching head.

Vodka is not my friend. But I had to find some way of blocking out my Body Wowo trauma. To make matters worse, I was woken up by machine gun fire outside my bedroom window this morning. I did a drop and roll out of my bed(Thank you Shaft movies) and cowered behind the curtains. This is it. The fashion mafia had finally gotten wind of my awesome accessory collection and were here to rob me before shooting off my knee caps for being so trendy. Oh Lord why am I cursed with such good taste? My stylishness has become a hinderance leading to my demise. Boo hoo! I want to live. Let me live!

It seems to have stopped. Maybe they spotted my mothers atrocious curtains and figured they'd got the wrong house. Hmm..might just have time to hide my diamond earrings in my tampax box(another trick from mummy dearest. Apparently armed robbers don't do feminine products either) before my neighbours point them back in my direction. Still quiet. I'll just peep out the window and see what's going on. What the ...
Outside my window was my mother in her bed time bubu with a semiautomatic weapon.

“Mother what the hell are you doing?”

She swings round, semi automatic pointing straight at me. She better not shoot my nose. That's the most exotic looking part of me.

“Mena are you crazy. How many times have I told you not to shout at me when I am carrying a semi automatic machine gun?”

Er...Never you crazy old woman. What are you? Rambo's grandmother?

“Mummy what are you doing shooting a machine gun at 7am in the morning? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Inspector Lamidi why did you give her your gun?”

“She say she go send me to Makurdi like the 2 other MOPO's that go last week.”

Ah! Those 2. It took 2 Mopo's and a pair of gardening shears to get me out of that infernal Body Wowo contraption last week. Unfortunately for the MOPO’s, having seen all my worldly assets in the process of freeing me, they have now been redeployed to rural Markaurdi. My mother says it’s too dangerous to leave them here. That they might talk about seeing my womanly areas to mere commoners and she just couldn’t let that happen. Apparently, it would be over her dead body that the whole of Lagos would hear that a man other than my husband had seen me naked. If only the poor woman knew that was a battle long lost; But she had a mad “Bury the bodies in the boys quarters” look in her eye so I kept my mouth shut. Probably a good thing I did, considering the fact that she's now totally lost it.

“Mummy please, stop pointing the gun in my direction and tell me what you are doing.”

"Its that stupid bird up there that keeps chirping at ungodly hours and looking into my window. I don't think its a real bird. It looks like your father's sister.”

Oookkk. Aro here we come.

“Mum! Its a bird. It's nest just happens to be level with your window.”

"Stop talking to me like a 5 year old. I'm not your mate. I know a real bird when I see one. I'm your mother and you will show me respect and support me at all times.”

“So what are you saying Mummy? That you think the bird is Aunty Rafiatu?”

“Don't be stupid. Am I crazy? Why would I think the bird was your Aunty... Hisss”

That's a relief. I have enough issues in my life without my mother going round claiming to be the next Dr.Dolittle.

“No! The bird is obviously your Aunt's minion, come to spy on us. It would explain how she knew when to come over to beg for money from your Dad when I wasn't at home. And why she was wearing the same lace as me at that wedding last week. She can see everything that's going on here. So today na today. I will kill that evil bird and if your Aunty croaks in the process, so be it. Next time she will choose her adversaries wisely.”

Oh Lord. Why do these things happen to me?

“Ok Mum, you're probably right but spraying bullets is not the way to solve the problem. All you need to do is move the nest and the bird won't come back ok? So please give Inspector Lamidi the gun and he'll climb up tree and move the nest.

Inspector Lamidi gives me a look that says "I aint climbing up no tree to move no devil bird's nest. You and your crazy mama can kiss my fine khaki covered behind."

“We are not moving anything. I have to kill it. Lamidi go and bring me a chair, a can of Red bull and my City people magazine. It's me and your Aunty today.”

“So you're just going to sit out here all day Mum?”

“Yes. I am protecting my family. You will thank me later.”

“I’m going to call Dad!”

“Good. Tell him to come and talk to his sister and her fine feathered friend. I will be sitting here waiting for them.”

Yeah right. I'm going back to bed jo before she talks me into shooting down defenceless pigeons that look like other members of my family. My life sucks. Just as I'm considering the option of divorcing my parents and getting a new last name, my phone rings....its Annoying Married Chick.

“Hehehehe have you been on face book today?”

“No why? Anyway forget that we have slightly more serious issu…”

“ Wait! Let me finish. It’s too funny. Someone has posted a video of some woman passed out, on the floor in her underwear or something and 2 policemen are trying to cut her out of it.”

Face book ke! No it can’t be me. It must be some other poor sap that has access to MOPO’s and a crazy mother who supplies her with deadly underwear.

“Are u listening? Then some crazy woman rushes in and starts screaming at them to cut the girl out with their eyes closed. That no one should look at her daughters mystical areas. I think that was the best bit.

Ah! My own don finish for Eko. Those evil bastards must have filmed me on their phones or something when Mum wasn't looking. To think I felt sorry for their Markaudi bound asses. All my enemies and ex boyfriends will be dying of laughter by now at the sight of me lying on the floor like a beached whale. I need to get my ass on the first flight out of here. Might just have enough time to pack my shoes and make the BA flight tonight.

"I swear, if I didn’t know any better I could have sworn it was Mum but the picture is so grainy you can't really see any features.”

Phew! Thank you Jesus. I promise from now on I will pay my tithes in full and not try to pull a fast one by deducting unanswered prayers tax like I usually do.

“Hey are you there?”

"Yeah! Sorry it’s just been a long morning. I really need a drink. Anyway, you need to get over here and deal with your crazy mother for a change.”

“Why? What's she doing now? You know what, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. This is why I got my ass married and moved as far away as possible. I suggest you get your ass in gear and do the same.Why don’t you come out with me and my friend? We are heading to some trendy new bar on the mainland everyone’s been raving about. I’ll swing by and pick you up later."

"Cool. See ya later.”

Don’t be shocked people. We are sisters after all and we do occasionally have conversations where she doesn’t hang up on me and I don’t call her “Crazy Malu”. We do love each other really. Anyway It's a weekend and I refuse to let my gun toting mother ruin my day. I will have a nice long nap and make myself all hot for my night out with the girls.

Oh gee! Not gun fire again. What does a girl have to do to get some sleep around here?

Alhaji! Alhaji!

2010-05-18T12:31:00.004+01:00

Lord why am I here? I hate conferences.

Er... You insisted that you be the one to attend.

That’s only because the said it would be filled with bankers and top notch people from the financial sector. I thought it with would be a hotties with money fest, but so far all I’m getting is pot bellied accountants in badly fitting suits. I’m bored. I have no interest in the money market or mobile money. All I’m interested in is having enough money for shoes, Vodka and the occasional boob job in Brazil when everything starts to head south. Oh well, at least it’s almost lunch time and I can finally attack the buffet. That’s the only high point of attending these loser conferences. The free food.

Yum. Having decided that there is no one to impress at this waste of my Friday afternoon, I have decided to throw caution to the wind and eat like there is no tomorrow. My plate resembles a mini leaning tower of Pisa and I will probably never be invited to another conference at Eko hotel again seeing as I almost caused a riot by taking all the crispy fried shrimp. I also have a chicken thigh and some éclairs, wrapped in tissue hidden in my handbag incase I get peckish during the afternoon round of torture. I found myself a nice little corner to sit and happily devoured my lunch. I was busy licking my fingers (I said I was hot. I never said I was a lady) when I hear a voice behind me say “Hi”

Damn! I was mid lick and not in the mood to be disturbed. My mother refuses to buy shrimp in the house, due to the astronomical prices, let alone fry them in a yummy crispy coating, so I refuse to let anyone spoil my groove. But it could be a client and it wouldn’t do to have word get back to the boss about my behavior so far. So I wipe my fingers and turn round reluctantly to return the greeting

Huba, huba…who let you out of modeling school and put you in a bad ass suit? Oh Lord! Please let him be a potential client. It would so improve my work ethic. I would work on his account overtime, weekends, public holidays and would carry around emergency pyjamas in case sleep over work is required.

“Hello”

“I’m … (Lets call him the Alhaji cause he has a Muslim name) and I just noticed you sitting here all by yourself and I thought I’d come over to keep you company.”

Hot and caring. We should just skip the pleasantries and find an empty broom cupboard to get better acquainted in. We can discuss marriage later.

“That’s nice of you. I’m Mena. I’m an Account Manager at “Wish you I had a better job” Ltd.”

“Nice to meet you Mena. I’m Head of Credit Facilities at “I get paid mega bucks and have a yearly bonus that would blow your mind” Ltd.” He says handing me his card.

Oh my God! I think I’m about to start hyperventilating. Hot, Platinum bank account and mega cool job title. I want him. Now! I can already imagine introducing myself as Mrs.Alhaji, the wife of the mega hot hottie with money. My own don better.

You better not mess this up Mena.

Don’t worry brain. Just leave this to Mama

We spend the next 20 minutes talking and as he gets up to leave he asks if he can call me outside office hours. It takes every ounce of self control I’ve got to stop myself from getting up to do the “I’m bad” shuffle. Yep! I still got it. Mena’s sultry seductive vibes are still working. It’s all in the hair toss and girly giggle ladies. Learn from me. The rest of the conference goes by in a heart beat as I am no longer listening to anything anyone is saying. I’ll deal with the fall out when I get back to the office. Instead I am busy goggling him on my blackberry.

Hmmm…not a lot of info about him. Ok, not good but no need to panic. He’s on face book but I can’t see all the juicy stuff without becoming his friend. I think it might be a bit stalkerish if I send a friend request now. So I will be patient and send a bb message to everyone I know to find out some info for me. So all in all the day hasn’t been a total bust.

Ring damn you! Ring. It’s been 5 hours and he hasn’t called. He said he would call me later. It’s later by my book and the phone ain't ringing. Lying bastard. I ought to stomp over to his office right now and demand an explanation.

Mena…breathe. Remember what the therapist said about the need to suppress your stalking tendencies.

It’s not my fault brain. They all make it so hard.

Riiiiinnnggg

Could it be? Hooorayyyy.

"Jesus loves me this I know. For the bible tells me so…"

Are you going to pick up the phone?

Calm down brain. Let’s not act desperate.

Crazy woman.

I heard that.

4th ring. Ok now we can pick it up

5 minutes later and all is well with the world. I have a date with Alhaji on Monday and sometime in the near future I might just be able to move out of this asylum. We’ll have to keep it on the down low though, so Crazy Mama doesn’t find out. Now…what to wear.

Is it Monday yet?

No its Saturday.

Is it Monday yet?

No dumbo. It's Sunday!

Is it Monday yet? Yes it is! Hooray!

"The sun has got his hat on, hip-hip-hip-hooray

The sun has got his hat on and he’s coming out today

Now we’ll all be happy, hip-hip-hip-hooray

The sun has got his hat on and he’s coming out today"

I’m so excited. He’s picking me up from work so my outfit has to be work appropriate but sexy. Shoes…killer heels. Make up…subtle but sultry. Underwear…OK, lets not be a total whore. It’s only the first date. I shall repeat my first date mantra all day to get myself in the right frame of my mind. “I shall not vacate my knickers. I shall not vacate my knickers.”

That clock can’t be right it’s almost 5 o’clock and Grumpy is still talking. Damn these weekly review meetings. Why can’t we just have them in the morning like all our other crappy meetings? He’s picking me up in an hour and I’m going to need that long to redo my make, readjust my boobies and get my hair into that tousled Beyonce look. Sod this; I’m getting out of here.

"Sir!" I say pushing my chair back and standing up.

"Yes Ms.Mena?"

"Sir I’ve got my monthlies and I have really bad cramps. I need to leave now please."

The room goes silent and I think Boli Lover just lost all lustful intentions towards me. Like I care. I’ll deal with the consequences of putting my monthly cycle out there when I become Mrs.Alhaji. But that ain’t gonna happen if I’m stuck here with these losers.

"Erm.Well. Erm...This is highly irregular but, ok, please do what you have to do. You are excused."

See you later office crazies. Mena’s off to get her future hubby.

He’s here and if it’s possible he looks even hotter than last time. “I shall not vacate my knickers.”

He smells good, Joes playing softly in the car and I’ve just noticed he’s got the sexiest little gap in his teeth.

We shall not vacate our knickers.

Shut it brain. Under the circumstances I’m sure everyone would understand if I somehow lost my knickers between now and the time I get home.

We end up at a lovely bar and I swear people, I’m tingling all over. I’m busy listening to his dreamy voice when a little thought pops in my head and before I can stop myself, I interrupt him by asking

“Are you married?”

He looks at me and the silence is a bit too long for my liking. I’m starting to get a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach and Mena doesn’t like it.

“Would it matter if I was?”

Hold up! Wait a minute…Alhajjiiiiii! Na English you just talk or is that some new street slang way of saying “Hell no! I ain’t married”?

“No duh! Of course it would matter if you were married.”

“Really? Are you married?” he asks

“We’re on a date. Why would I be out on date with you if I was married?”

“Welllll…OK, I am married.”

If I wasn’t enjoying my Bloody Mary so much, I would have thrown it on him. But I ain’t wasting a perfectly good cocktail on this cheating bastard.

“So why ask me out if you’re married?”

“I saw you and there was just something about you. I was drawn to you.”

Drawn to me my ass. I suggest you start focusing your magnetic pull on your missus at home. I swear if I wasn’t wearing 5 inch heels,which I can barely walk in, I would have stormed out of here.

“Look I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on you. I really think we could have something here and I’m not a player or anything. I’m looking for something serious. Maybe even marriage.”

Ma wetin?? See me see trouble. Alhaji, Alhaji wants to make me iyawo kekere. Wife number 2? Not in this life time sugar. I haven’t waited this long for a man so I could share bedroom privileges with Alhaja.

“That’s very nice. That you’re so attracted to me but I think its time you took me home.”

“So you really don’t think we can be friends?”

“Oh we can be friends alright. You know, the kind that you only speak to once a year at Christmas.”

“I think you’re being a little hard on me. Just think about it and who knows, you might find it in your heart to give me a chance. I think I can make you happy.”

So true. You probably could have made me happy with your hot body and your many, many credit cards. Alas! It was not meant to be.Take me home sweet talker, so I can go sob my eyes out.

I am soooooooooooooo tired of this. OK! Listen up guys…

PLEASE DO NOT ASK ME OUT IF YOU ARE MARRIED, ENGAGED, DATING OR EVEN CONSIDERING ANOTHER WOMAN!!!

Mena will no longer stand for it and will fully utilize her MOPO’s to ensure that all culprits will never be able to make "Happy" again. I have spoken. Now leave me alone. I need a good cry before I head back to the drawing board.

Nothing wowo for here

2010-05-10T12:42:00.009+01:00

My mother ran into my room yesterday (Yes, she ran. She is rather sprightly for her age), bursting with excitement.

“Mena get up and see what I just bought you”

“Bought me?”

I had a sudden moment of overwhelming joy. My own don better. My parents have finally bought me a car. All my begging didn’t fall on deaf ears. The pictures of cars subtly placed on their breakfast plates, bathroom mirrors and in their shoes must have worked. I wonder what they got me. It better be my Porsche Cayenne Jeep or else!

Ah ah! Mena! You no greedy at all o.

En! Are you talking? Please, please, please respect yourself. When Porsche Cayenne Jeep owners are talking please don’t involve your Peugeot 504 driving self. Abi, they said ask and it shall be given unto you. Na my fault you no ask God for wetin you want? I have been planning how to oppress my enemies for a long time and I now know it will not be with hair or my Manolo's but from the lofty heights of my Porsche jeep.

I will no longer walk anywhere. Even if I need to withdraw cash from the Zenith bank next door. The fact that it will take me longer to reverse out and go round the one way system to get there is irrelevant. I will drive my jeep there. In fact come Monday morning I will be driving my jeep into my office building (Yes, you heard me... Into the building) and park it right next to my desk. In fact fashe that. I will move my desk into my car. Anyone requiring my account management skills will have to tap gently on my windscreen and depending on my mood I might or might not lower my automated windows to discuss their business needs with them. My Porchy baby, I can’t wait. Mummy will look after you. I’ll get you your own personal bodyguard who will protect you at all times. A smack down now, talk later kinda guy…

“En you are looking at Madams car!!!??? “

Gbosha!

“U dey craze!? Will you come on avert your koro koro eyes from the morrar vehicle immediately? Abi, you wan use your evil eye to crack the windshield?”

“Ye! Okada man, you touch Madams car?”

Gbosha!

“U don kolo ni? You dey use better thing to keep your balance on that useless looking Suzuki motorcycle. Next time even if trailer dey behind you, you better fall and let it drive on top of you before you touch my Madams car again.”

Ah yes! Porchy baby and I will be very happy together. Might not even need a man. I’m sure the immense satisfaction of watching the little people scurry out of my way when I drive past will be better than sex.

“Mena!!!”

Oh yeah, forgot she was trying to break the good news to me. I should try and act surprised when she whips the key out of her bra. My mother hides anything important in her bra. At any one time she has a picture of my father, her bank account details, car keys and some of her real jewelry swimming around in there.Her argument being no armed robber wants to go rummaging around in her bra.

“Yes Mummy, you were saying.”

“Hisss… it’s not your fault. I’m about to give you something that will change your life forever and you are daydreaming.”

You bet it’s gonna change my life forever. No more begging you for rides. I can come and go as I please. I’m free at last!

“Sorry Mummy, I’m listening. I promise.”

Make it snappy ol' lady. Mena’s got Okada's to run over.

“Close your eyes and stretch out your hand”

Ooooohhhh!! Why is this woman always so dramatic? Fine, I’ll close my eyes just to make this a little faster. Oh my God! I’m so excited. I think I might just have peed a little.

“Tada!”

I can feel something in my hands. It doesn’t feel like the keys to no car I’ve ever seen. It feels like a cross between rubber and armour plating and whatever it is weighs a ton. My heart starts to sink and I reluctantly open one eye to see what I’m holding. What the …Both eyes are now open and in my hands is a black mesh like garment that looks like a medieval torture instrument.

“Mummy what is this?”

It had better be an aerodynamic driving suit worn by all the celebrities to make their Porsche Cayenne’s go faster or else.

“Do you like it?”

“How can I like it when I don’t know what it is?”

“It’s the Man Catcher by Body Wowo . It supposed to be the latest thing in girdle wear.”

Ewwww girdle wear. I don’t do girdles. I do Spanx.

Same thing genius.

You are still here Chairman of the Peugeot Rotary club? Please I’ve warned you to stop trying to feel amongst by speaking to me. Like I said, I don’t do girdles. Mamas do girdles. Lagos bigzzz girlzz do Spanx. Razzo.

My mother is practically jumping up and down in excitement.

“Read the label and then try it on. You’ll see how good it is.”

Read wetin? The only thing I want to read right now is a bit in the Bible that says I can kill my mother under extreme emotional distress.

“Go on read it.”

Fine! If it will make her leave my room any faster, so I can sob over my crushed Porchy baby dreams, I’ll read the darn thing…

Men no dey look u again?

Dog dey chase you for road?

You go market and dey think sey you be Malu?

Ah! My Sister that mean your borry don Wowo finish.

But no cry o. No go Babalawo. Tell your mama make she no fast for you again because Man Catcher by Body Wowo don come to your rescue.

Once you don wear am finish, Men go just dey follow you yanfu, yanfu.

Make you wear Man Catcher today and unwowo di wowo for your borry.

Lord help me! What is this trash?

Yes, I might have a small, hardly noticeable tumtum and maybe my boobies ain't where they used to be but that is surely no reason for this major insult. My body no wowo o. Even if it was, God forbid that I will wear this local market woman product.

“Go on try it on.” Says my mother tugging at my pj’s .

“Mummy please I don’t need this and I am not trying anything on. Now please take this away and let me finish reading my book…How to meet and marry rich people.”

Several smacks and an ear pulling later, I am standing starker’s in the middle of my room whilst my mother helps me pull on this contraption. I5 minutes of tugging and … Oh Lord! I can’t believe it. My tummy’s disappeared and I can see my feet again (so need a manicure). My boobs are practically under my chin and I do believe that’s an ass I can see behind me. Turns out the Man Catcher might be a miracle worker after all. I look like a coca cola bottle with hair. My mother has finally done something right. Can’t wait to go out and show off my new figure. Gee it is a bit tight though and breathing is becoming a tad difficult. But who needs air when you look this good? Hmmm...What are those black spots floating around my eyes and why is the floor suddenly rushing towards my face? Hey! Who turned out the lights?