Here’s to you, Ejiro!

Alright, so, today is a special someone‘s birthday, and I thought it would only be right to do this (*cough* actually, she asked for this as a present *cough*).

Ejiro. What can I say. I spent all day thinking of the perfect thing to write, especially as I’ve written a post before, but like a friend said, ‘Write something nice, as long as you mean it.’

She’s the longest friend I’ve ever had. Well, it’s been what, 10 years? Ejiro, 10 years. We need to have an anniversary. Or something. From the day in JSS2 when I wore my pinafore wrong, and she barely has any hair worth talking about… who knew we’d still be pals 10 years later?

That’s awesome. And she’s awesome (don’t let your head swell o).

I still miss the days when the height of our worries was copying our endless Economics notes, and spending hours after school on some Fine Art assignment or the other. I remember at the end of SS3, she said, ‘I’m sure you’re going to go out there and find another best friend’. Sigh… while i may have made some lifelong friends in the past 6 years (wow, SIX, we’re old), and while we may have our gaps in communication (I love that we could still resume it like we has just spoken yesterday), she’ll always have a place in my heart. Gosh, that was mushy. But it was necessary.

Happy Birthday, girlfriend, I hope you had fun, and I know i say this every year… but you’re OLD. ER. Than me. 🙂 And come back home! Its been almost 2 years!!!

P.s. i wrote this better, before, but Blogger is retarded and wiped it…

Maybe I Should Become a Lesbian…

Yes, i SAID it.

So, as far things go. Darkman is NO MORE.

Bus and I were chatting this morning, and we came to the same conclusion: Guys can be wastes of emotional energy. They make great friends… but the instance it becomes anything more than that… DRAMA, DRAMA, DRAMA.

As for what happened between me and the fella? Too much. Just take it like that. Let me put it this way, I can handle annoying bosses, financial challenges, irritating colleagues/classmates/roommates, dysfunctional laptops etc, because they’re a necessary part of my life.

Annoying boyfriend who just doesn’t get it? I can do without that. Yeah… I don’t see why chicks kill themselves over being single. I mean, I realised this week that I didn’t spend as much on credit, I had more free time, I didn’t have to update with anyone at the end of the day, and I had nothing on my mind but the important stuff. It’s great.

And here’s a tip to you guys out there: We REALLY don’t want to hear that much about your ex. No matter what we say. I don’t care if she was the cooking, cleaning, submissive 9th wonder of the world. If she was so perfect, you should have stayed with her.

This post is already too long. Damn. I wanted it to be short and mysterious… Ah well.

I Just Re-Dsicovered Why I Hate Weddings, Driving, Nigerians & Everything in General

There’s no other way to put it. I didn’t realise how much of a bad Easter weekend I was having till yesterday.

It’s 7.15am, the clouds outside the large windows are thick and dark with promises of rain, but all is still. Within, the fluorescent lights are a harsh, glaring contrast to the subtle darkness of outside, and there is a din of greetings, football criticisms and post-Easter cheer.

But I’m unhappy. Miserable almost.

Where do I start? With the tragic news I heard about my phone? Or my run-in with the law? How about the alienation I’m having with Darkman? Or wait, should I talk about how I was almost sent to a watery grave? No…

Financially Challenged
Let me start with my tragic case of BROKENESS. Yes. I was skint the whole of the weekend and a couple of days before even, which is very unlike me. No matter how little I have, I always make sure I’m not in a beggar-type situation before payday. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have savings, my little HoneyPot, as I like to call it, but I’ve gotten very good at pretending it doesn’t exist, so it upsets me HEAVILY when I have to dip my hand into my little honey pot. And what upsets me more is that it’s almost NEVER my fault. Everytime I’ve been really financially challenged, it’s because I lent out money to someone who I’d thought would never disappoint me, and they did. I’m yet to successfully borrow money and get it back at least a week after I was supposed to get it back. It usually stretches into weeks, with correspondence with this ‘friend’ fading to zero, as the said person tries to avoid me. Currently I have a LOT of floating cash out there, and I made a decision on Thursday, as I pulled the ATM card for my HoneyPot account out of my wallet, that I am never borrowing anyone money again. I don’t care what they think of me. I don’t care that these people are some of my closest friends. Call me stingy, whatever. I refuse to have my plans ruined, my phone creditless, and my HoneyPot dwindling because someone somewhere thinks, ‘oh, she’ll understand’. On Thursday night, I sent out venom-filled texts to the 3 people owing me and got meaningless promises and excuses in return.

Sigh.
My N95 is down the toilet. Literally.
My folks travelled for a relative’s wedding on Wednesday, so my sis and I basically had the house to ourselves. I went to the gym 3 more times since my last post, and they went quite smoothly. It’s a good feeling, working out, considering the way I sit in the same place for 12-13 hours of the day. On Friday, I got a call from the dude I gave my phone to fix, and he told me that I should just forget about it, that he’ll get me a new one, but much cheaper. At the time, I think I was really pissed at Darkman, I cant be sure, I’ve been pissed at him a lot these days, so I didn’t really digest the guy’s info. Or maybe I’ve just blocked it out, I don’t know. Basically the phone’s gone.

Road Safety officials Should be Hanged and Quartered.
In the course of that night, I had yet another irritating call with Darkman, and woke up sort of early to do some chores so that I could see him before heading off to a beach party. He, however, didn’t feel the same way and 1 ½ hours before I was set to leave, he hadn’t even had his bath. I angrily told him to stay where he was, and waited for my friends to come over instead. The party was titled Alcohol, Ladies and Sand 2. The first one was last summer. I made everyone contribute to the fuel, cos Alpha Beach is not beans. At Mobil office, we jammed traffic, and someone suggested I pass a shortcut through Oniru. Big mistake. As we passed, we were stopped by Road Safety officials. Guess what they asked for.

Caution signs and fire extinguishers. I mean, WTF??? I showed the guy the caution signs, but really didn’t know I had an extinguisher HIDDEN in the boot. Hello, it’s my mum’s car after all. They said I should show them my papers, but it was mostly insurance copies, and the guy proceeded to ask for the vehicle license slip. I almost told him he was crazy, but said instead that I didn’t have it. The part that mattered was stuck to my windscreen. He made to tear it off, but me and my friend blocked him, and I got livid. I told him he shouldn’t touch it. He said he needed something to hold until I paid my ticket, I felt like telling him to kiss my big, black hiney. He already had my driver’s license. After much cursing and spitting, and telling them they were all stupid for asking for something as unimportant as that when there were accidents out there causing traffic. Finally, angry and hot, I called my mum to ask if there were other copies of the stuff they wanted to confiscate. I refuse to pay 4k for no good reason. Because she was at a noisy place, I couldn’t tell her the full gist, and I wish I had, she would have told me about the extinguisher was in fact, there and all this would have been avoided. But whatever, you know. What’s done is done.

Party Poopers
We got to the party, where finding a non-alcoholic drink or water was impossible. It was too damn hot to savour any thing else, and after over-dosing on goat meat and barbeque fish, we went to stand by the water where there was breeze and easy conversation. It was another Babcock University re-union, but I didn’t see as much craziness as last year, alas. It was during that party that I was once again hit with the reality that there are a lot of sluts out there. There’s nothing sexy about walking about with half of your butt showing or in a scrap of cloth that barely holds everything in. I believe you must have an aim when wearing such, like bedding a rich man’s son or something. It’s disgusting. We were staring like idiots, and we were chicks, imagine those poor guys! Some artist named Shenk (is that correct?) came, and one of his lackeys came and asked me and my girls if we wanted to see him, and I was like, who the hell is he? The lackey seemed annoyed that we weren’t wetting ourselves with excitement, but I would have felt the same way if it was an artist I KNEW. Unless he’s Hayden Christanssen, or Justin Timberlake.

My car got stuck in sand, but we rescued it and headed home at 7.30pm. Easter Sunday sucked. NEPA had been using us to play games all week, taking and bringing the light every 10 minutes. But that day, we saw no light at ALL. And it was scorching. I drove around, unsuccessfully looking for an open salon, then came back to stew. Desperate, my sis and I went to see a late movie at Silverbird, but couldn’t find an open filling station, so I drove home with my fuel on reserve, scared the car would stop on 3rd Mainland Bridge. It didn’t.

Weddings, Traffic and all the Reasons why I Hate Lagos.
Monday was the height. I drove around again, unable to find an open salon, and jammed a pointless 90-minute traffic at CMS. Guess why.

A (insert anger-fuelled expletive here) WEDDING. A bloody wedding. EEEEUUUURGHHH!!!!!

The parked cars stretched for miles, and reduced the 3-lane road to ONE. It was the bottleneck from hell. I was pissed. I’m so not having a large wedding. What’s the point of blocking the streets of Lagos and approaching bankruptcy for an event no one will remember in 5 days?

I also realised the cover for one of my tyres had flown off. Great. I decided to branch the road Safety office, which I only found after 15 minutes of fuel-burning, and I was told I had to pay to a bank (my mum insisted I get her documents back). Vexed, I decided to go home. On the bridge, the caterers from that stupid wedding were passing and they had a convoy of road safety officials (oohh, I hate them now). And they just had to pass by my side. The last bus hit my car. And I almost crashed into the railings. My heart stopped while I tried to swerve my car back into normalcy. Already angry, I got REALLY angry and drove like I’ve never driven before. I was speeding, over-taking like a lunatic, hell-bent on catching up with that convoy. I did a good job, I had them within sight up onto Maryland where I got stuck in traffic. And I calmed down a bit, and thought, ‘what’s the point?’ before turning off and carrying my still scary looking hair to the salon down my street (where I should have gone since).

I hate frigging holidays.

Stick it in Your Eye – Why I Think I Rock (1)

I haven’t updated in… a while. I wish I had a good reason this time, like an illness or a trip to some exotic location. However, the simple thing is this: I was uninspired. Everyday it crossed my mind that I wanted to blog… but I didn’t. A couple of times I actually started a couple of posts, but I lost my fire halfway through. Again, no real reason for that either. Maybe I just had things on my mind that were beyond blogging about.

That said, I’ve been feeling strongly about a lot of things – like inequality to women, and Nigerian greed, and Obama running for President of the US, and total annihilation of mankind. I’ve also been nursing some scarily VIOLENT homicidal tendencies again (one of such was when I imagined beating a robber to death with my ultra large umbrella; I admit it freaked even me out).

I’ve been doing a lot of random, stupid stuff, like Social Networking. If you look to the right of my blog, you’ll see my Twitter updates :). I have also been accused of using ‘nerd slangs’ like ‘W00t’. I’ve been hearing that a lot more these days. Darkman actually called me ‘gadget girl’ once. Or twice. Just cos I have a huge action-packed iPod, a bulky phone and have my eyes greedily set on an HP dv9000t (*experiences a moment of euphoria at the thought*). A colleague once said I was almost a tomboy, too. Hmm.

I was reading a couple of things here and there, and being in a relationship has mad me really reflect on a few things about the future and marriage and (*gasp*) kids, and my career and after getting myself worked up over SOME things, I just thought, ‘you know what? Screw it. I rock.’ So for any guy/girl out there:

  1. Yeah, I’m a bit of a nerd. I embrace the classification wholeheartedly. I’ve played with computers since the days of DOS, and I still play with them now. Fair enough, I realised on Tuesday that I had an installaholic syndrome of just randomly installing any software that tickles my fancy (and you think after all this time I’d learn). I love playing games, I love phones chock full of features, I love just playing around brand new shiny laptops and pressing buttons (think of Dee-Dee, you’re close). I can successfully spend 24hrs on the net and not get bored. I’m now privy to saying things like, ‘OMG’ and ‘WTF’ in real life, and I love it.
  2. Yeah, I listen to weird, obscure music. BITE ME for having a musical taste that spans beyond Boyz II Men and 2face. Yes, I listen to all the tracks on those popular albums no-one listens to. They’re actually good! So what, I listen to Enya while working, and Linkin Park when power-walking. Got a problem?
  3. 3. Yeah, I’m a feminist. I think I fully accepted that fact this week. If any of you have happened to venture onto Nairaland’s Romance section recently, you’d see all the sort-of objectifyingly pointless topics on the ideal woman, and Nigerian women don’t do this and don’t that, and I admit, I got a bit peeved. Yeah, that’s right. You put up your feet up dear husband, and act like making money is so hard. Yet you want ur ‘perfect wife’ to be hot, good-looking, great in bed, great in the kitchen, employed, have a basketball team for children, a housekeeper, and SOMEHOW, also be loving and caring and submissive. *Eye roll*. I don’t do submissive. I can be feisty, and I HATE getting the lower end of the stick. And none of you give me that, oh, but it’s women’s lot. Yeah, WHATEVER. If you’re treating me like crap, you’ll have no peace. Guaranteed.
  4. Yeah, I don’t REALLY care what you think. I mean, I don’t come off as a snob. Or a b****. But I’m not going to bend over backwards to impress anyone. If you don’t like me, it’s not taking years of my life. I have enough friends already.
  5. Yeah, I’m never going to be THAT chick. I’m never going to enjoy shopping of any kind. I’m never going to care if I’m wearing the ‘latest’ fashion, whatever it is. I believe in timeless clothing. Nicely cut jeans with a flirty, sort-of low cut top never grows old. And no, I never saw the beauty in skinny jeans, and bright yellow bags. I can’t be bothered with 4 layers of make-up. Got pimples? They’ll go one day. No point lying to the general public. Lip gloss is still the best and only necessary form of makeup ever invented. Half the time, you’re going to catch me with my natural hair. It’s not long and glorious, is almost always due and in my weird permed style, and hasn’t been black since I was a kid. I look presentable and I still have stalkers, so I must be doing SOMETHING right.
  6. Yeah, you know what? I’m overweight. I know. I look in the mirror everyday. Telling me that I am hasn’t taken the pounds off. If you like everything about me but my belly, you’ve got a problem I can’t help you address.
  7. Yeah, I’m not a homely person. I clean my house because I have to. And I cook because it’s the only alternative to starvation. I’m no Jamie Oliver. I mean, I have most recipes up there in my head I think, and I’ve successfully done many dishes countless times, but if you’re looking for that gourmet Nigerian dinner of pounded yam and egusi soup, you’re on your own. If I’m a guest at YOUR house, you’d have to give me a really good reason (preferably financial, lulz) as to why I should enter YOUR kitchen or suddenly clean YOUR mess just cos I’m there.
  8. Yeah, I’m a chick, but I’m not shallow. I feel embarrassed when chicks out there have this quest for money. I don’t get it. They have their own. They should spend it.
  9. I really don’t need a guy. No guy has gotten me to where I am, and I refuse to compromise just so I can have a MRS attached to my name in forms.
  10. Speaking of which, I have no plans of getting married before I’m 26. Where’s the rush? What’s the big deal? Ok, you’re married. So? What’s that magical benefit you’re receiving? You want kids now? Why? What’s the difference between today and next 2 years? Do you think marriage is child’s play? Do you think raising a family when you can barely feed yourself is fun? What’s wrong with you?

There’s probably more. But I’m tired. And believe it or not, I actually have work to do. To be continued. Peace.

It’s Vals – And Yes, I Still Don’t Care!

Well… After almost a week of sort-of combating Malaria/Typhoid (again), I’m BACK! Unfortunately, every single thing I had been hoping to write about last week has gone to the dogs. Can’t remember. Ah well. Just as well.

It’s Valentine’s Day! You know I had to have a li’l ole rant about this.

Yeah, I thought I would be ultra unique and write about something totally unrelated, like global warming or the absolutely INSANE heat that has suddenly taken Lagos by storm (now THAT’s something we need). But no… I’m gonna write something about Val’s. Why? Well, I guess it’s the obligation of my relationship status.

Listening to St Elsewhere – Gnarls Barkley…

Last year, I wrote a heated rant about the absolute pointlessness of Valentine’s Day. My opinion hasn’t changed much. It’s really just this over-blown, sensationalized, money-making remix of what was actually a kinda cute concept. I had the misfortune of spending my convalescence stuck in Anthony Village, where there was no cable. So… I had to make do with the Silverbirds and G65s of the TV world. Every other minute, it was some silly Valentine’s bash/parade/pageant/dinner/discount/sale/concert or the other. There was PINK and RED everywhere. At Silverbird Galleria, Darkman and I decided to venture to some horrific Valentine’s stand and couldn’t understand what all the MUSH was for.

Yes, I SAID it! It’s all mush! Shoot me! What’s with all the cards DRIPPING with sentiment? Do you know hard it is to locate a nice Valentine’s card for a relationship that isn’t quite 3 full months and quite frankly, not declaring that you love the person with every flaming ember of your soul and will do so forever?

Slow down…!

I’d never been Val’d (is that even a word?!). At least, not till this year anyway. The great thing about getting a (very) slow start to such a thing in your life is the absolute joy of making observations of others’ plights. In secondary school, things went from ‘OMG! Soso got a Val’s gift! That’s soooo cool!’ in our junior classes to ‘OMG! I can’t believe you didn’t get anything!’ in our senior years.

Ah yes, the joyful shallowness of secondary school relationships. It’s like everyone just started pairing up at a point, just to beat the graduation window. Anyway, I recall, was it SS2 or SS3, when all the girls that got gifts, were apparently so insanely tickled by their good fortune that they thought it would be (*starts silly white girl voice*), like, totally cool to like, put all the gifts together and like soo take pictures, just cos, you know, they could?

My eyes practically rolled to the back of my head when I saw it. Teddy bears and plastic roses and other red paraphernalia lined up in a creative arc on a bed, then the money shot: Each chick with her own stuff. God. Most of those relationships didn’t even make it past grad.

In university, things got more interesting. More cash to burn, bigger chicks to impress. I had a friend that almost lost her mind every Val’s searching for the perfect gift. On that day, people used to piss me off with this line, ‘Happy Vals!’. I usually replied that with the scowl or forced smile of my choice. Happy Vals? What, is it a public holiday? If it’s so big and pivotal, no one should go to work. Then, and only then, will I indulge in that silly greeting.

What irritated me was the look many girls got or gave at the prospect of not receiving a gift: ‘Aw, eeya, don’t worry, next year it will be your turn’ or ‘I wish I was getting a gift’… The look of complete, unadulterated ENVY dropping from their faces like sweat, when some girl entered the hall with some huge bag or whatever. If it was some ‘big boy’ from outside, even better. He’d park in whatever ostentatious car he could bring, right in front of the hall, and all of them would press their faces against the window, waiting, watching. One really funny year, a girl got a new car. Oh, God. Didn’t hear the end of that one. Kitty and I had a laugh there. We were like, ‘well, with those keys, she has given out her right to refuse him pretty much anything. Including a marriage proposal’.

WTF? I totally don’t blame many guys that aim for singledom every February. It’s too much pressure. We girls are horribly materialistic creatures, and we EXPECT something. I’m sure they wake up every 14th, cursing St Valentine, wondering whose bright idea it was.

I don’t think it was a completely stupid idea, Vals, it is a ‘celebration of love’ after all. For those that are genuinely citizens of the land of mush and luurve, today’s like their Independence Day/Christmas. Currently I’m facing the pressure. I don’t like thinking too hard about such things, but here I am. I’d rather do something interesting than get a gift. I told Viva. I’ve reached that point in my life where very few material things could blow me out of the water. At 21, I don’t know if that’s good or sad. But I won’t say no to a new car.  Frankly, I think a gift’s an easy way out (yes, I’m THAT hard to please). Gifts are for birthdays. Anyone could pop into a store and get a teddy bear (of which, don’t do it, just don’t, totally pointless things). But it takes thought and effort to plan a nice day/night out … or in.

Not so? That said, I strolled into the office this morning for t, my eyes assaulted by chicks in red, and guys in red ties (*shudders*), and my ears already harassed with about four ‘Happy Valentines!’. I think, so far, I have hidden my repulsion well. Yeah, I know, I’m a killjoy. You can refer to me as the scrooge that stole Valentine’s. Vals is all good, but I don’t see the BIG deal in it. I’ve told Darkman more than once that my life would go on if we don’t see today, he probably thinks I’m off my rocker. But… it’s your first Vals, he goes. And I’m like, yeah… I guess… whatever… you know. Let’s not lose our heads.

All you lovers out there have fun though. And all you single boys and gals… it’s all good. 🙂
(*ha! betcha thought I would wish u a happy one, huh? *)

Broken.

So, something tragic has happened. A close relationship to me, which I used to use as the comparison, the milestone, the MODEL of a lasting relationship, has just fallen apart. It hurt me, because the people involved are both very good friends of mine. And it had lasted so long (5 years isn’t beans), NO-ONE would have NOT seen it ending in a wedding.

I admit, on the rare occasion, we’d fantasize about how their kids would look, and what we would wear as bridesmaids, and how cool it would be that the we would know pretty much all the guys on the Groom’s side, and how nice that wedding photo would look.

Perhaps that was a bit creepy, but you should have seen them. Despite everything, still together; despite living miles apart, still going; despite serving in 2 very far, very distant states, still together.

And then … WHAM! I get the call. I took the call the same way I would have probably taken the news that someone had died.

Everytime someone made a comment about girls, about infidelity, about dating, I would proudly say, ‘Well, you don’t know what you’re on about, I know this girl/guy who’ve been so and so for YEARS…’

What do you do, when that happens? I felt like someone had ruined my reality, as if to say, if such perfection couldn’t last, who are we, mere mortals, to think we can achieve it? I mean … fine, I know it happens, but it sucks anyway.