The silent treatment

Did I mention I wasn't speaking to Hmmm Dude? After seeing me in my Primark nighty and not saying anything constructive, I decided to withhold the pleasure of my conversations from him.

At what age do you have to stop using not speaking to someone as a weapon??
I only ask because I still do it. Yes I know its childish but sometimes you just can’t be arsed to speak to someone who is pissing you off. You don’t want to give them the impression that you have forgotten or forgiven their transgressions by engaging in conversation with them. The most I'm willing to do is the odd nod, grunt or disapproving stare in the culprit’s general direction. You might all think this is extremely immature for a woman of my superior intellect, but do I look bothered by your opinion? When you all start taking notice of my requests for money then maybe I might be interested in the fact that you all have something to contribute.

So today eager beavers we are going to talk about fights, keeping malice and making up. “Why such a depressing and hostile subject Mena ?” you all ask. We thought you were going to talk about the new men in your life. My response to that question is get your OWN blinking blog. When you signed up for the Mena experience you should have read the fine print. If you want to talk about rainbows, fairies and little people that live in the mushrooms at the bottom of your garden Cbeebies has a website. In here we talk about real stuff. Anyway back to the original topic of conversation.

There are 4 kinds of fights

The Schizophrenic

This is when you think you are having an argument with someone and the other party is totally oblivious to your seething rage. So technically when you think about it you’re actually having an argument with yourself. That is not a good thing. There are many people wandering around the wards of mental hospitals that have arguments with themselves. You’re probably thinking that by shouting and screaming, this situation can be quickly turned into a 2 man show but it ain’t that simple. To actually get yourself into a schizophrenic type argument to begin with... the other person is probably related to my ex boyfriend. A man incapable of showing any emotions and who met every angry question with stony silence or stretching his neck past my hulking frame so he could watch telly. Ah yes people! I have had many a one sided argument and this is why you should never rely on anything I say. All that talking to myself is bound to have had some effect on my sanity. The best way to resolve this is not to scream, shout or make demands. Just say nothing and give monosyllabic responses to everything. I give the other person 24 hours and they will be begging to know what the matter is.


The Mule

This is an argument whereby you know there is no chance in hell of you winning. Probably because you were in the wrong to begin with but pride, stubbornness or whatever will not let you back down. Yep! You’d rather sleep on the sofa till eternity than admit that you don’t know who the current president of Yugoslavia is (I do know but I’m not helping you ignorant lot by telling you am I?). This argument is usually resolved when the bigger person (which is probably not yourself) extends the hand of friendship. For people in a relationship…it ends when one of you gets tired of humping the pillow for company.



The Time Bomb

This argument usually occurs between mates. Someone says or does something you don’t like. They tell you you look a tad rounder than usual or they borrow something without asking. You usually say something at the time but said friend is very dismissive of your reaction. So you say nothing. You bury that “I want to kick your ass to the moon feeling” and say nothing. But the next time they eat your last tic-tac or drop a piece of fluff on your already filthy carpet. You go nuclear on their ass and refuse to speak to them again…ever.

The Misunderstanding

This is usually a boy vs. girl argument. They say something we don’t like and when they realise we are about to do them some serious damage in the nether regions the claim it was all a “Misunderstanding”. Usually resolved with flowers, chocolate and movie type sex.

Anyway I’m being good at the moment. Still speaking to most people I know and anyone I’m not speaking to needs to sit in dark room somewhere and think about what they’ve done.

I'm all sweetness and light....

Desola! or whatever your name is. You better hurry up with this dying process you’re going through because I will only update my blog when I am good and ready.

Really! The nerve of some people. Do you think I come to work to blog? No I am here to check my e-mails from potential partners on African Love Connection (I hear my profile “Sexy Caramel Mama” is very popular), browse the net, call my soon to be school teacher sister in Niger(ha ha! Next time you will not forsake me for a man) and criticise the dress sense of all those that walk into my office. So please …all of you …no one should harass me again. OK?!

Anyway, seeing as I'm here already... let me take pity upon you sad people and just share a few thoughts with you. Firstly I need to ask you all a question…Do I seem like a mean person to you guys? I know that slanderous bunny look alike sister in-law of mine has been spreading rumours that I have multiple personalities but we all know she just hating a sister for her hotness. It’s just that these days I’m not really the nicest of people.

Take yesterday…

After I got home from work, tied my wrapper village style round my neck, put on some beads for good measure and assumed the personality of Princess Nena “The beautiful one who most be obeyed” there was a knock on the door. I was obviously upset at being interrupted as I was just about to tuck into a plate of eba and spinach, (look…even hot, public school girls get ras cravings ok!). I opened the door to be confronted by my neighbour holding a cup. I eyed said cup and neighbour suspiciously. I had heard of such people who go from door to door asking for free goods in the spirit of neighbourly kindness. My spirit of Neighbourly kindness was away on vacation and I was not a happy princess Nena.

“Yes” I said
She looked me up and down like I was some kind of freak.
“Yes”! I said again.
“Oh sorry. I was just admiring your outfit. Are you off to a party”.
Peasant I thought. Does this look my ceremonial wrapper?
“No” I said.
“Is there something I can help you with”?
“Yes I was wondering if I could borrow some sugar and some milk”?
Sugar!!! Was this woman mad?? Did she not see the wrapper clinging to my hot Atkins created curves? Did I look like someone that ate sugar? And what did she mean by borrow? Was she planning on returning the cup of milk to me sometime in the near future with interest?
“I don’t have any sugar I’m afraid”.
“Oh that’s a shame, how about some milk then? I was just going to make a cup of tea and I noticed I’d run out. Where are you from? Your outfit looks very ethnic”.
Story, story …my eba is getting cold with all this gist. Lets focus on the job at hand please.
“I’m Nigerian. I’ll just see if I have some milk”.
Opening my refrigerator I noticed I did have some milk but only enough for me to eat my Snap, crackle and pop in the morning. I figured I might as well be nice and let her have it. Seeeeeee…I am a nice person.
“Here you go,” I said.
“Oh”! She said
“Haven’t you got any full fat milk”?
Once again the peasant has managed to annoy Princess Nena.
Did I look like someone who drank full fat milk (shut up ijebu chick…It was a rhetorical question and I don’t need any lip from you)?
“No that’s all I’ve got I’m afraid”.
“Oh well I guess it will have to do”.
Physco! Like she’s doing ME a favour by accepting the milk. At this stage I’ve lost all interest in being polite.

I took my milk out of her grasping little hands and said “No don’t be silly. If it’s not what you are used to then by all means try the lady downstairs”. And promptly shut my door.
I could hear the freeloader muttering obscenities outside. She’s lucky I didn’t have a royal executioner at hand to deal with her rude self. Anyway, I thought I handled myself quite well. Didn’t have to slap anyone silly to get my point across. Fine she was over 70 and a tad feeble but that’s no excuse for upsetting Princess Nena.

Hmmm but it did make me think though …Maybe I’m too hard on you guys. After all, all you want is to get to know me better and try to live your boring little lives through mine. So I hold my hands up. I have no excuse. I’ve been a bad, bad girl for not updating my blog. I deserve to be punished. I need to be taken over a big strong knee and spanked… preferably by Hassan. Who is Hassan you might all ask? Well Hassan is the love god who is at this very moment bent over my fax machine trying to fix it. Yes people …Mena is in love with the fax repair man. Would it be considered sexual harassment if I slightly pinched his toohsy on my way back to my desk?

What about Tyrese? You gasp in shock. Tyrese ko Tyresi ni. I am tired of having all my love letters returned by his security detail and I just think that restraining order asking me not contact him again was a tad overzealous. Really! You tell a guy you are going to cut off his little soldier if you find out those rumours about him and Vivica Fox are true and he suddenly gets all legal on your ass. Anyway I have decided I don’t want him anymore. Not because some judge in LA said so but because I’ve just decided I don’t need him anymore.

Right now I have men crawling out of the woodwork. Yep! Mena is regular light bulb these days just attracting men like moths to a flame. It’s like that old saying,”You spend ages waiting for a bus and 3 come along at once”. I guess telling you about them is one way to fill up my blog. But not today because Hassan has just asked if he can crawl under my desk to check the wiring for the fax and I really don’t think I can focus with him down there.

"Hurry Up and Propose Chick" has left the building.

I don’t really want to be blogging right now. I actually have work to do and I’m feeling dopey. But seeing as you are all ingrates, some of you have already started getting on my case about how I’m not committed to my blog etc Look people! The only thing I want to be committed to is Tyrese or any other man who isn’t a midget (I have nothing against short blokes but I’m short myself and I would like to give my kids some kind of chance in life), insane or living in the basement of his Mama’s house. So excuse me if I’m not blogging every minute that God sends but I am actually in the middle of living my life.

The only reason I’m here today is because my sis “Hurry up and propose chick” has deserted moi. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!! BooooooooooooHoooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!! Sob! She has deserted me and headed back to Niger to be with a man…yuck! Useless man wrapper sister. You would think blood would be thicker than water but naturally things are bound to be different where I’m involved. Anyway I’m used to being treated atrociously by my numerous family members so I’ll just chalk it up with her other misdemeanours. All these sins against moi will be reflected in my wedding pressie to them of a goat.

Actually think I’m being overly considerate, after all a goat is an extremely useful 3 in 1 gift. It’s an automatic lawnmower, security system (goats can be extremely vicious. We had one as a child and I remember many a Saturday afternoon spent having my bottom moulded back into shape after the stupid thing caught me on its patch. Probably explains the current flatness of afore mentioned butt) and a holiday food source. Yep! Nothing like watching a butt-kicking goat getting roasted to make a sore butt feel better. Will definitely be getting them one…They both need a good butt kicking.

Anyway I am now dopey, as I have no one to boss around and feel superior to anymore. What is a girl to do?? Maybe I shouldn’t see this as a bad thing after all she wasn’t what you would call a perfect younger sister. She was rude, disrespectful, opinionated, bossy, a stealer of my accessories and a supplier of embarrassing stories about me to potential hubbies. She also didn’t appreciate Tyrese. Hmmmm…maybe my life is actually going to get better now that her desperate behind is safely in Niger. She’s about to start NYSC so if I’m reeeeeeaaaaallly lucky she will be sent to some village in the boondocks where ass-kicking goats roam freely. Only the local palm wine seller Romeo will speak English. So she will be forced to endure hours of “Baby I dig you well well! Make we sit under the palm tree and talk about our union of love” just so she doesn’t go crazy with boredom. She will be forced ride her tricycle (yes I meant the little three wheeled bike. On her Youth corp. salary she can’t afford an adult sized bike) to the nearest town to send me telegrams begging me to send her essentials like Mac foundation, floss and tic tacs. Ah if only dreams came true.

Whilst she is busy fending of the palmy seller I will be holding auditions for a new and improved younger sister. One with the following attributes:

1) Extremely flat ass. I just think its plain rude to have a bigger ass than your older sister.

2) No fashion sense, as I am tired of having all my nice stuff stolen.

3) Has no qualms about coming over to my flat at unsociable hours to cook, clean and baby-sit.

I personally don’t think that’s a lot to ask for but you these small girls of now days all have attitude problems. All applicants please send a list of your best dishes and a picture of your rear end.

But to be honest...I'm going to miss my little sis like crazy and I hope Niger is all she hopes it will be and more.