Monday, October 30, 2006

Police yeeee. Police yeeee. Police, he’s committing suicide o.

Hola peeps. ¿Usted me ha faltado? Me disculpo por el silencio. Peeps, was looking forward to publishing an entry after a week spent doing absolutely nada in Lagos. Was gonna give u details about birthday party (it was off the ying yang), return of Julio (dude surprised me at the party), elation at seeing mom after she returned to the country, discussions with ex (ironed out some issues, now looking for other ex’s to have ‘the talk’ with), discussions with family (Loye’s back with his girlfriend and man, she’s crazy fine), and other noteworthy events, but can’t be bothered anymore. I am mad as heck and I ain’t gonna take it anymore.

This Tunde X phase was brought on by none other than the friggin’ Nigerian police. U know their motto, To serve and protect with integrity? Well, that s&%t should be changed to To steal and steal and steal and steal and steal some more with no class at all. Now I am not saying all police are punk ass punks, just most of them. Nah, scratch that. ALL police, apart from Nuhu Ribadu, are friggin’ punk ass punks. Honestly, I wake up dreaming of bashing some policeman’s head in. Wait, y’all expecting a joke after this? Nah, real serious about it.

Peep this: Colleague bought a new ride in Lagos and being the magnanimous kinda guy I am I cancelled my plane ticket and offered to drive down to Portharcourt with him. Woah, that musta taken a long time ‘cos we hear the road’s bad and all. How long is the journey from Lagos to PH anyways? I’m glad y’all asked ‘cos I don’t know the answer. U what? Okay, maybe I better expatiate: the trip took us about 14 hours….while driving like a bat outta hell. Why so long? Y’all don’t know by now? The friggin’cops, that’s why. Almost as if the government passed a law while I was on a Rip van Winkle inspired vacation stipulating all new cars are to be searched and impounded especially if the documents are genuine.

We departed from Lagos at 6am and almost as soon as we turned off to the Ore motorway we came across a checkpoint. Cops came up with some bogus excuse about obtaining ‘a right of importation certificate’ “because the car is imported”. U what? Which Nigerian car isn’t?! We were escorted to their station not far from the checkpoint and knew we were being fleeced when the other policemen at the checkpoint later showed up in various impounded cars. Yup, it was our first encounter with a peripatetic police checkpoint that day. On our way to the police station I suggested the policeman who had commandeered the front seat wear a seat belt. “No worry, where we dey go no too far”, was his response. Yup, trust the police to enforce the laws.

Anyways, as this was our first effort at police harassment that day we didn’t argue much and coughed up N1,000 ($8) even though they’d initially asked for N5,000. After we left that crew of bandits we came across another checkpoint less than a kilometre away and these folk came up with another bogus charge. This kept repeating itself every kilometre – I kid thee not – and colleague resorted to placing a crisp N100 note in the palm of any policeman that stopped us. Sometimes they demanded for more and when we refused they held us up for some minutes before we got angry and threatened to call some big kahuna on the cell phone. Dontcha just love technology?

Some hardened cops who were obviously used to this good driver – angry driver routine didn’t fall for that so we either pleaded our way out or shelled out more dough. By the time we arrived at PH we had forked out over N7,000 to the Policeman’s Pension Fund. Most annoying of all were those coppers who would take our money and waste more of our time by offering crap travel advice. The bloody punks. All the while I didn’t lose my temper and laffed stuff off at the 50+ checkpoints we were delayed at ‘til we got to Warri. Now this incident requires its own paragraph.

While almost at Warri some pickup truck with armed folk forced us and some other new ride to pullover. They dismount from the truck and one comes over to our car.

Punk 1 (*addressing my colleague doing the driving*): Why una no park when I tell una?
Tunde (*obviously relieved that these weren’t robbers and at the same time pissed that cops would resort to such measures just to search a car*): HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW U WERE REFERRING TO US? COME ON, TELL ME.
Punk 1 (*pointing gun at me*): Ehen, u get out of the car.
Tunde: My mate has shown u all the documents u required. No be so u suppose stop person in the first place.
Punk 1: Oya, enter that pick up truck with my oga. I go enter this una car, una dey go station.

I get into the back seat of the pickup truck and notice some dude next to me has a Bible and a handkerchief. Another innocent victim, I presume. Strangest thang about this trip to the police station is I am eerily calm. Was probably jaded from all the crap police had thrown our way earlier in the day. I start thinking to myself, The damn punks. I know they cannot do anything ‘cos all our documents are complete. Even if they threaten to throw us in jail I ain’t bothered. At least this way I can claim to be ‘hard’ so when I release my hiphop CD no one would doubt my street cred. Yeah, baby. Man, this dude beside me looks nervous, maybe I’d strike up a conversation with him.

Tunde: Dude, what u in for?
Dude: Er, er…
Oga Punk (Punk 1’s boss): U! U wey dey hold Bible! U be pastor, abi? I no go take am easy with u o.
Tunde: Wetin u do now?
Dude: Na so I enter okada to place wey I go take bus to Warri. As bus departed na so okada guy cross us talk say make bus stop. He then accused me of stealing his private parts. Can u believe it?
Tunde (*thinking to himself*): “ROTFLMBLACO. Man, that s&%t still happens? Good thang I got into this truck. Gotta find out more info.”

Before I’d enquire further we arrived at the police station and the pastor/private part nicker dude was hurled outta the truck and I returned to my mate…..after grabbing my crotch just to make sure the crown jewels were still in place. To cut a long story short(ish) after we showed them original documents to prove that vehicle was not stolen, Oga Punk perused them shrugged his shoulders and went to a nearby beer parlour to relax his heels after a hard day’s harassment. Mate called a friend of his who lives in Warri and the guy showed up in quick time with a police officer by his side – later discovered this police officer’s assigned to the guy’s hotel. Police officer then strikes up a conversation with Oga Punk and informed us that the thief wants N30,000 ($240) to let us go. It was then I lost my rag. Told mate not to plead with the punk as we had done nada wrong. “Is it now a crime to own a new car in Nigeria? Come on, this ain’t right!” Mate decided it best to come to an arrangement with the punk especially as surrogate younger sis (remember her?) was in the car and needed to be in PH that day. Ended up shelling out N2,000 just to get outta there. To make matters worse Oga Punk prayed for the continued success of mate’s mate’s hotel. Imagine the hubris. It’s Oga Punk’s head I always end up bashing in my dreams. Can’t forget the face of this dude and the LASTMA guy that first stopped me in Lagos. “They gonna pay someday, they gonna pay!!!!”, says Tunde, as he strokes his white cat and laughs his evil genius laugh: Ha huh ha huh ha huh ha.

I would love to tell y’all the encounter with Oga Punk was the last episode of police harassment for the day, but I don’t lie……when blogging. Sad, sad day throughout. By the time we got to PH my mate had lost 5kg from all the stress and I had gone 2 shades darker and shed some hair off my left ass cheek. A while back a female friend commented about how lovely it’d be to drive around Nigeria and capture the scenery – no, she wasn’t Caucasian – but with this police malarkey ain’t no way that’s gonna happen. No wonder the crap airline industry in Nigeria’s making crazy loot.

My mood in PH was greatly improved when a mate related a similar encounter he had had earlier in the week: Na only 14 hours e take u from Lagos to PH? O boy, it took me 2 days to drive my new jeep down from Lagos. Do u know one of the cops I met on the way actually accused me of stealing the car? Lol….it’s just like watching The Jerry Springer Show, suddenly ur life feels way better when compared to what others are going through.

Lagos news: While in Lagos I worked with a friend in crafting her grad school applications. As usual the schools asked for essays that highlighted challenges she had been through and how she overcame them. Oh man, challenges again! Is that only what these folk ask for? I haven’t really experienced any challenges in my life, what am I gonna write about? Awwww, don’t y’all feel her pain? Of course, I teased her to no end about this before we got down to constructing an essay that mirrored the life of Rosa Parks. Hey, it was a great CHALLENGE coming up with that idea in the first place. Man, I kill myself.

So glad I won’t be doing the grad school applications again. Don’t get me wrong I enjoyed grad school, it’s just the application process I’da done without. Come to think of it, wanna know who would make perfect grad school applicants? Nigerian parents. Everyday before school I’d hawk peppers and then walk 10 km to school…barefoot! the sun, rain, snow (yes, then it snowed in Nigeria back then, damn it!!) and I still finished top of my class. Uh huh; pull the other one, it’s got bells on it.

Local politics: Nigerians are great followers, we just wait for someone to do stuff and then we follow en masse. Ever been stuck in traffic on Lagos roads? As soon as one knucklehead decides to ease his plight by facing oncoming traffic others follow like punk ass sheep.
If Shakespeare were alive in Nigeria today and decided to write a play about some broody prince his most famous line would be To Impeach or Not To Impeach: that is the question. Golly. U should see the rush with which members of the state house of reps are impeaching governors. Some deserve it, others don’t, but folk don’t seem to care. Didn’t I tell y’all the Ladoja - Oyo State thang was gonna come home to roost? Was I right or was I right?

Voter registration exercise is currently taking place around the country and the word is it took over 40 minutes for the Vice President to get registered. Apparently the problem’s due to the malfunctioning electronic equipment. Like I didn’t know that ish would happen! Nigerians should learn to take things easy and plan properly. If u wanna fly with the birds u must first be willing to eat puke regurgitated by ur mom. Okay I dunno where the last sentence came from. I swear I don’t even remember typing it. Man, I really should quit smoking weed, huh?

Global politics: Midterm elections in the US and Republicans are praying everyone’s forgotten about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the ballooning deficit, Hurricane Katrina aftermath, Rep. Mark A. Foley, the decision to circumvent the Geneva Convention, and the 1,120 km Mexican border wall (hey, wouldn’t it be funny if they hired Mexicans to build the wall?). Good luck.

Russia’s Putin’s like US’s Bush and Nigeria’s OBJ. Get on their wrong side and u going down. U gotta love democracy. Hebrews 10:30! Chill out, y’all are leaders, act like it.

Tony Blair’s almost gone. Awwwww. Like Paul McCartney once said, when asked if the Beatles were gonna reunite, “u can’t reheat a soufflé.” Hope u had fun, Mr. Blair.

Yeah, speaking of Mr. McCartney…..

Celebrity news: Man, divorce sure is a bad thang, huh? Now we hearing news of physical and drug abuse. Heather Mills and her gap teeth……always knew there was something shifty (geddit? geddit? Aw, forget yous) about that woman. Yesterday, all my trouble seemed so far away / Now I need a place to hide my wealth / O I believe in yesterday / Suddenly, I might be worth less than half of what I used to be / Fell for gap-toothed, one legged blonde and now look at me / O yesterday came suddenly…… Thank u, thank u. I’ll be here all day.

Moving on to another gap-toothed blonde, Madonna seems to be in deep doodle for her decision to adopt a kid in Malawi. Dunno what her intentions are, but if this kid keeps her off my TV screen then allow her adopt the kid already! Seriously, I think it’s good on her to decide to adopt a black baby. Would it have been better to let the kid die (as we’ve been informed that nobody cared for the kid and that’s why Madge expressed an interest)? While all this is happening the boy is probably thinking, “Man, Madonna wants me. I am too sexy for Malawi, too sexy for my nanny, too sexy yeah…. Hey, do u think any black celebs, not called Michael Jackson, would be willing to adopt a white kid? Doubt it……..not when they got extended family to cater for.

Once heard this joke: Back in the 80s some French ad executives were pondering what to do when one of them says, “Americans are so dumb I bet u we could sell them water.” Fast forward to the 90s and some American dude is walking past a store when he exclaims, “Woah, look at this! How dumb do these French folk think we are? Buying water in a bottle?! Ha. Hmmm, maybe I better try one. Woah, this sure tastes more ‘watery’ than normal water I drink! I’ll tell all my friends to buy it.”
French guy: See what I told u? They are so dumb. Let’s make more fun of them by calling it EVIAN (which is actually NAÏVE spelled backwards), but they will think it’s sexy French speak for something or the other.

This joke came to mind after seeing Robbie Williams’ new video RUDEBOX. Seems Europeans, especially the English, have kissed his ass for so long dude thinks he can get away with singing rapping about shite. Jackson looks a mess / TK Maxx sells for less ?! What was Robbie smoking when he thought about this? Wait, this just in: RUDEBOX is the top selling album in the UK this week. Ah man, with crap choices like this no wonder the English will never will the World Cup again.

Back in Lagos everyone’s buzzing about the Independence Day concert held on the 7th and 8th of October. Most peeps were chuffed that Beyonce took time outta her busy schedule (of, er, er, dancing like a possessed woman?) to sing the Nigerian national anthem. “It made me proud to be a Nigerian”, Loye told me……just before I smacked him over the head with a tyre iron. (Okay, I was hoping this act would convince his fine girlfriend I was more macho than the dude and she’d leave him for me. Didn’t work, but had to try, right? Yes, yes, I am ashamed of my actions.)

Honestly folk, I am sure it musta been surreal to y’all who attended the event that a global icon like Miss Knowles would mouth out Arise O compatriots…, but I ain’t impressed. With the bucks she reportedly got paid she’da sung the anthem in all the major Nigerian languages; now that woulda floored me. Peeps, we gotta stop oohing and aahing anytime Nigeria gets mentioned outside these shores. “Oh look, look. On CNN they talking about how corrupt we are. Man, Nigeria na big country now o, even CNN dey talk about us.”

I don’t blame Beyonce though, us Nigerians are sentimental suckers at heart. Some of Beyonce’s predecessors that got Nigerians fawning include:

1. OZ - TV show on HBO where the Nigerian inmate Adebisi, played by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, rapes and kills other inmates;

2. The Bourne Identity - Movie starring Matt Dillon as an assassin ordered to kill an African dictator, played by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, who speaks Yoruba;

3. Sugar Hill - Wesley Snipes and Michael Wright are brothers in the drug trade who get angry when a couple of Nigerian drug dealers, led by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (again!), would rather not do business with an akata (u know, I still don’t know what the word means), a pejorative that Nigerians use to describe African Americans;

4. The Real McCoy - Crap movie starring Kim Basinger and Val Kilmer as a bungling thief. When Kim highlights the stupidity of his decision to steal Betamax VCRs as no one uses them, Val replies, “well, they still use them in Nigeria”;

I could go on and on (The Exorcist II, Tears of the Sun) but I think y’all catch my drift. Okay peeps gotta go now…………lol….just kidding. Y’all knew I’d not wrap up this entry without telling y’all about the party, right? Y’all know me so well.

30th birthday party: The party was off the ying yang. Loads more peeps than expected showed up – it’s Nigeria, it’s in our nature – and it turned out brilliantly in the end. Didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, but the whole night seemed like a blur; probably ‘cos I was running helter skelter trying to play the perfect host.

If u showed up for the party, thanks for the love; my heart thanks u. If u couldn’t make it, thanks for the love; my wallet cherishes u. Ha. Yeah, it’s tight wad jokes like that that ended things between Isha Sesay and I. Oh, I didn’t tell y’all? My bad. U see I did a lotta thinking the first two days after my 30th birthday and decided to go the whole hog and ask Isha for her hand in marriage. And y’all thot I was a commitment phobe, huh? Tsh. Tsh. After dinner on Monday, October 16th I presented her with a small box and ………the following ensued.

Isha (*thinking to herself*): “Could this be it? This punk’s finally gotten my not-so-subtle hints and is gonna ask me to marry him. It’s not as romantic as I always envisioned, but hey, stuff happens. I wonder why he isn’t going down on one knee like they do in the movies?”
Tunde (*thinking to himself*): “I hope she loves the ‘ring’. I bet she’s wondering why I am not down on bended knee. Lol…typical woman. In all honesty I’d planned to do just that, but I’m wearing my favourite pair of black pants and ain’t no way I’m staining them.”
Isha (*thinking to herself*): “Why doesn’t he just open the damn box? I hate the suspense!”
Tunde: So, er, Isha my love, would u take this ring and er, u know…?
Isha: U are so silly. Open the damn box. U know I’ll say Y-E-……wait, what the heck is that?!
Tunde (*rolling on the floor laffing his blistered left ass cheek off*) Ha. It’s a hula hoop crisp; u know one of those tasty hollow snacks we love so much. This is actually barbeque flavour, which is ur favourite. Romantic, huh? U know with hosting the party and all I am short for cash, so decided this would be a humorous way to ask for ur hand in marriage. I’ll get u a proper ring next month. Lol…am I funny or am I funny? U know what would be even funnier? U can wear this ‘ring’ and whenever u feel peckish u’d eat it and replace it with another from the pack. Hilarious, right? Hey babes, why u frowning?
Tunde (*grovelling like a biaatch*): Isha babes, I am so sorry. I thot u’d find it funny. Please don’t leave me, at least not for Mr. King. Dude’s been married more times like Liz Taylor, Joan Collins and Jennifer Lopez put together. Please don’t leave……please!

And that was the last time I saw Isha. She won’t return my calls or nada. We’ve had our li’l arguments in the past where we separated for a while and gotten back together, but somehow I feel this is truly the end. Oh the pain, the pain. While trying to make sense of it all I recalled some personality class I’d taken during my recent training programme in Warri where the tutor explained the thing humans fear the most is – no, it’s not mothers-in-law – criticism, and it’s best to learn to seek out feedback from people if one hopes to go far in life. With this in mind I called up an ex and asked her to be brutally honest in telling me if I was too blasé and gave up on our relationship without much of a fight. Her answer wasn’t much of a shock after the Isha fiasco. She affirmed that I may have been a tad nonchalant about what she felt was important to her in the relationship. Man, I knew this carefree attitude would one day end up smacking me in the face. I apologised profusely to her and plan not to make the same mistake with Isha’s replacement……if anyone could ever truly replace Isha. Boo hoo. Man, it hurts so much.

The next day I caught The BreakUp – actually quite better than I thought; the movie proved once again that Justin Bateman’s comedic timing is outta this world - with a friend and realized some shitty aspects of Vince Vaughn’s character reminded me of, yup u guessed right, myself. Oh man, say it ain’t so. The next day I explained my predicament to another mate and she said my problem’s I don’t like to inconvenience myself – yup, just like Vince Vaughn’s character. She broke it down further: Tunde, u half-remind me of this guy I once dated. First time we met up on the Island he suggested I take a cab home ‘cos, in his words, “I don’t do bridges.” What he meant was since he stayed on the Island he hardly leaves there and would rather I took a cab home to the Mainland. Of course, I told him “I don’t do cabs” and dude was forced to drop me off at home. U can’t have ur way all the time, u need to sacrifice a bit more.

Her words couldn’t have hit any deeper. I am the kind of bloke who would rather pay for a cab than drive a chick home, especially if she lives outside of my ‘comfort zone’ – maybe I’ll expatiate on that some other time. Continuing in this quest for self-immolation I jokingly asked my future brother-in-law (yup, younger sis Seyi’s getting hitched to Elvis in December) how “my little wife” - some chick he tried to hook me with - was. The shellacking I received shoulda been recorded for posterity: “This guy, I been think say u be nice guy, but honestly, u worse pass Kinzo when it comes to women. Do u know the chick came to me almost crying? She told me y’all had agreed to hang out but instead u left her and hung out with other chicks instead? Haba, why now?” Woah, couldn’t believe dude was talking about me. Is this what I’ve become, “worse than Kinzo”? Ouch. I love my brother and all, but dude seems to be on a mission to ‘take’ (his words not mine) as many chicks as possible before he gets married; what makes it worse is that each chick is hoping she’d be the lucky one. (Kinda like that scene in the Ten Commandments where Jethro’s daughters dance for Moses, hoping he’d pick one of them as bride.) And someone actually thinks I’m worse than him?! Man, this is shocking. Hey, where were y’all when the transmogrification from Dr. Tunde to Mr. Hyde-ous was taking place? Y’all coulda warned me! Boo hoo, y’all could alerted me. Oh the pain, the pain.

After some more soul searching I apologized to a few more folk I felt I had scorned and decided it was time for a new, improved, more sensitive Tunde. I traced my heartless actions to the fact that I am always trying to do the right thing, but end up hurting folk in the process. Take the example of “my little wife”; I vividly remember dedicating that day to her, but then I called some other friends who wanted to meet up before I returned to PH so I put her on the backburner. Awful, huh? Well, it ain’t gonna happen no more. From hereon in I tell it like it is, and no more BS. Peep this:

Scenario 1: U know those folk u call and the first thang they say is something along the lines of, “U actually called my number today?! I don’t believe it, I’d go get a lottery ticket.”?
Old Tunde: “Ha. U know I have been real busy.”
New, improved Tunde: “What’s up with this whole attack is the best form of defence crap? Come on, let’s not kid ourselves. U have my number, u’d have called as well. How about we keep it real with each other; cool? Good. So how u been? Er, sorry I didn’t know that unfortunate incident happened to u…er, er,….”

Scenario 2: Policeman harasses u.
Old Tunde: “Oga no be so. Abeg take this small money for weekend.”
New, improved Tunde: “Oi, punk. I know the government pays y’all pittance, but that ain’t the right way to act. I have given u all the documents u asked for and yet u still bugging me. Want me to introduce u to this friend of mine who has magical way of making private parts go poof? ”

Lol…..seriously folk, if u notice my behaviour’s getting outta hand please, please tell me. I mean if u guys don’t curb it now what’s gonna happen when I become president of Nigeria? Decided to give Julio the keys to 3Ts of Tunde for next blog entry. Tot ziens and God bless.

Comments-[ comments.]

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder? More like in the eye of the BEE-holder. Some choices can only be explained by bee stings to eyes.

Hola peeps. Usted no va a creer qué me sucedió. Yup, erstwhile arrangement’s boyfriend called me again. Now I REALLY wish I had a mean streak.

Got call from dude at 3.30am the other morning. 3 friggin’ 30 in the morning! Dude called from the girl’s phone, maybe hoping to catch me out at that time. He kept accusing me of getting in the way of him marrying the chick. Told him incessantly that there’s nada going on, but dude didn’t seem to believe me. What more can I do?

Dude: Look, is it a case of her loving u but u not loving her? I know, I have chicks after me too, but…..
Tunde: Dude, what more have I got to say? There’s nada going on between ur chick and I. She’s ur chick for goodness sake. Ask her.
Dude: Er, er, please leave her alone. Abeg now. She lies to me and tells me she’s off to the supermarket when she goes to see u. I have checked her phone, I have seen the text messages.
Tunde: Exactly, and the text messages tell u what? Go on, what do they read? She’s ur girlfriend, the least u can do is talk to her if u feeling insecure. I haven’t seen her in a long time. Don’t u get it? How many times am I gonna tell u there’s nada going on? Look, dude, I have a long day tomorrow, sorry, I mean today.
Dude: I am so sorry. I don’t normally act like this, but u see….er, maybe we’d meet up so I’d explain to u and …..u still in Warri, right? Where are u staying?
Tunde (*thinking to himself* “Lol…..I may be groggy at this time of the morning, but I ain’t dumb”): There’s no need for that, dude. Just talk to her.

Airtime on dude’s chick’s phone ran out so dude called me back with his phone and said he’d call me in a few days. Oh joy! U know at some point in my life sleeping with some dude’s girlfriend woulda been an ego boost. (Karma? Guess I don’t think about that when I act like a dog. Why do u think I didn’t fret all those times when I got cheated on?) However, I don’t need that stress anymore. Maybe the chick has actually been lying about her whereabouts, but she hasn’t been to see me. How do I tell the dude that his constant nagging might be the reason she lies? Then, he’ll even go more loco. To make matters worse he said the chick told him I called him ‘a clown’. Now, this chick’s taking the piss. Maybe it’s one of those cases where she expects guys to fight for her. U know, like the scene in Cyprian Ekwensi’s The Passport Of Mallam Ilia, or some other medieval wooing ritual.

So where was I? Er, yeah, dude said he’d call me when he gets to his new place of assignment called the R.I.G. What? Yup, I kid u not. Later discovered dude’s in the military and I just hope pray he’s being posted to another secret dance fraternity, ‘cos if he’s on my R.I.G. it ain’t gonna be funny. Damn, I’da used an East African accent to fool him just in case we bump into each other. …and in other news a popular dancer was found slumped dead in a mountain of cocaine with a self-inflicted bullet hole in the back of his head. The sole eyewitness, a military officer guarding a secret club called the R.I.G., said dude appeared depressed after his favourite g-string snapped during a performance.

After the call I couldn’t get to sleep, and even worse I was starving but had nada in the fridge. Eventually, I snoozed off and Angelina Jolie was about to shave my head when another call came in at 5am. Thot it was the dude again, but this time it was the chick calling from the guy’s phone. What’s up with these two using each other’s phones? “Sorry to wake u up, but did anyone call u from my phone? I woke up to find my airtime was used up and ur number was the last one that…...” Oh man, this must be a friggin’ joke. I swear someone’s filming an episode of Candid Camera. Told the chick to call me at a saner hour. When she did I explained to her what her boyfriend had said. She apologized profusely and said dude would never call me again. U huh, I have heard that one before.

Later in the day while sitting on the white throne ‘cos of cool runnings I have had since Benin – do u know some chick wished she had a sensitive stomach like mine she’d lose weight easily? Sad. – thought about army dude’s actions. Man, I have never met anyone act that way. I know most times one can’t control one’s emotions, but the least one can do is try to deal with emotions without inconveniencing other folk. Last time I felt this mad was when my train from Oxford to London got delayed by over an hour in the dead of winter ‘cos some lady chose to commit suicide by jumping in front of a train. Okay, maybe the last sentence was a bit cruel, but what I mean is……maybe it’s best I stop this train (geddit? geddit? Aw, forget yous) of thought before I dig a deeper hole for myself and The Samaritans run an ad criticizing me.

Oh yeah, just in case y’all care, the cool runnings aren’t as bad as they once were. Don’t get why my stomach’s so sensitive though. I friggin’ spent 6 years in boarding school eating what could best be described as ‘prodigal son’ food – go ask ur Sunday School teacher what that means – and afterwards, 5 more years of eating bad takeout at Bradford. In all that time the only serious case of runs I can remember was when my sis Funke decided to treat us (siblings in the UK) to her grilled gizzard which she’da called ‘loadsa pepper with a pinch of gizzard’. Must confess that that stuff was finger licking good. Aaaah, the memories. Hey, I just remembered! There was another case of runs so embarrassing it took a shrink, two hypnotists, an anaesthesiologist, and a pastor sprinkling holy water on my six-pack to perform regression therapy in order to help me uproot the memories from the dark recesses of my mind. See the lengths I go through for all y’all?

Anyways, it began like any other day. The weather was sunny, the birds were chirping and I was about to engage on a journey to school (Bradford) from London. Dialled a cab company and was informed the transport would arrive in 10 mins. Cool, just enough time to consume the breakfast of champions, Frosties. Hmmm. As I was the only person in the crib who loves fresh milk I decided to down what was left of the milk so it’d not go to waste. Yes, I also received the ‘there are people in China that have nothing to eat and yet u waste….’ speech as a kid. Cab arrives, I load my stuff in the trunk and we head off to King’s Cross tube station. No sooner had we turned off my street that my stomach started playing tricks. “Hmm, that’s strange,” I thought to myself, “oh well, the station’s only 25 minutes away I’m sure I can hold it ‘til then.” Boy, was I wrong. Screw 25 minutes, the journey felt like an eternity and trip consisting of me perspiring like I was on death row (even though it was the coldest January in London for 20 years!), praying for God’s help in this ‘hour half-an-hour of need’, and pleading with the cab driver to stop at one of the tube stations on our way so I’d let go of the demon poo that was about to burst out at any moment. (And folk say men cannot multitask. Ha.)

I didn’t dare fart for fear of having a watery ending. Through out the trip the driver kept urging me on like those husbands who in the delivery rooms with their wives during childbirth. “U can do it, we almost there, King’s Cross is just around the corner, just hold on….” I, in turn, responded like a woman in childbirth, “Please stop, u don’t know what I am going thru, I can’t do this anymore…” Lol…..we kept going back and forth like we’d choreographed this exchange.

After a million years we got to King’s Cross and I darted outta the car so fast most onlookers would think I stole something. Pushed over a lady with a baby tram, side-stepped some octogenarian struggling to lift a suitcase, and jetted to the loo. As soon as I pulled down my Pepe jeans – I even remember the color of boxers shorts I had on that day - I exploded in my boxers shorts; almost as if the sound of the zipper was the cue my bum had been waiting for. I spent the next 15 minutes singing praises to God while ensuring my stomach was trully empty. When I was satisfied I left a really messy pair of boxer shorts as a belated Xmas present for the unfortunate bloke who’d be brave enough to attempt using that toilet. Walked Staggered back to the cab driver, who was patiently waiting by my suitcase, and handed him a £20 note. The ride shoulda cost £12, but was extremely grateful for the support he rendered. At that point if he had told me his name I probably woulda promised to name my first son after him. Spent the 3-hour train journey to Bradford camped by the loo, u know, just in case. Ever since that episode I always have a substantial amount of bog roll on me at all times, u know, just in case.

Yup, another personal tale for y’all. Don’t understand why in the past few blog entries I’ve felt the need to tell y’all stuff I’d not normally reveal. Maybe it’s my time of the MONTH or maybe I’m just getting OLDER. What, y’all still don’t get the hint? Okay, enuff subtle hints: I am turning 30 on October 15th and plan to have a li’l shindig on the eve of that momentous occasion, so if any of y’all are in Lagos this weekend feel free to stop by…….with presents. Ha. Man, the big Three-O. As a kid always looked at older folk and imagined how I’d be/act when I got to their age. Now I am 30 and wondering how I’ll act in my 40s. Would I still have time to update a blog? I probably will as I have kept a journal since 1994 and still update it daily. How would I act with my wife and kids? Wife would be the luckiest woman in the world ‘cos by the time God selects her outta the bevy of single chicks I’da learned from past mistakes, and most importantly, woulda cut all ties with UniPort chicks. Ha. U see, I must learn to sacrifice by curbing that propensity to joke about everything ‘cos don’t think she’d love me very much if she asks if she’s put on weight and I reply, “…er, well, u don’t sweat much for a fat chick.”

I pray I don’t mess about with the missus ‘cos that would count as the nadir in The Life of Tunde. Exchanged emails with some chick I went on a few dates with and she told me of how she recently met up with her ex and they discussed what transpired in their relationship and really let out everything. She said it was the best thang she ever did ‘cos now she was able to understand the reason behind some of the things he did and he was able to hear how much he had hurt her. Now that’s a swell idea. Before I get married I’d like to meet up with some of my fav ex’s, if I can find them, and iron things out. Give and receive open, bare-chested truth, and maybe I’ll end up learning a thing or two. Dear Girlfriend A, when u cheated on me u hurt me so and that was why I took it out on Girlfriend B. Dear Girlfriend B, ooops, u didn’t know I cheated on u? Er, forget what I just aid. Dear Girlfriend C, to be honest I was glad u cheated on me ‘cos was tired of the relationship and it made me feel less guilty for…hmm, I better not say. Dear Girlfriend D, u coulda been a contender, but u loved money so much. Dear Girlfriend E, is ur cute cousin still single?... Man, I kill myself.

With kids I fear I might spoil them a bit and that’s where the wife comes in in helping to restrain moi. Man, I love kids. U’d see how much I enjoy the company of my nephews and nieces. However, I pray I don’t become one of those dads who every other kid thinks is cool, yet his kids cannot talk to. I mean I am friggin’ 30 yet I still joke like a 10 yr old. Lol…would be interesting to know the exact point at which I finally ‘grow up’. Maybe that’s what marriage will do to me. Man, I’m in a philosophical mood today, huh? Here’s more philosophical rants:

I have always wanted to do stuff different from everyone else. Maybe it comes from being the only son of my mother….or too much breastfeeding……or too little breastfeeding. Shaved my head bald when no one else – except maybe Michael Jordan - was doing it, decided to dye hair blond when no one else – except that punk Sisqo, but his was platinum – was doing it, and got my ear pierced when…okay, most folk had done that by then. Thang is I am capricious when it comes down to the nitty, but I tend to suppress that side of me to please others (family, girlfriends, employers). For instance, since I’ve returned to Nigeria I haven’t worn my ‘graduate stipend-funded’ diamond stud ‘cos of parents’ pleas that “in Nigeria these things are not done” and the fact that clients’ current impression of me would change drastically if the lobe of my left ear started blinging.

A mate from Bradford always got a tattoo at each milestone in his life. He got admitted to Bradford he got a tattoo; got engaged got a tattoo; last exam at Bradford got a tattoo. However, I dunno why he didn’t get one when his girlfriend broke off their engagement and within two weeks was dating someone who up ‘til then had been just ‘a friend’. Ha. The most I’ve done is get drunk and smoke a huge cigar (after 6 years of giving up those vices) on day of final exam in Bradford. It’d be ace if my wife-to-be was also a rebel dying to get unleashed. That way we’d act the fool together and when pressures from family come we’d defend each other.

Once had a girlfriend who I thot was like that. She said she’d like just pictures of her wedding, and would not go for the usual video recordings ‘cos that’s what everyone does. Told her that wouldn’t work in Nigeria ‘cos parents – hers and mine, especially mine – wouldn’t go for it. “U see that’s our problem in Nigeria we compromise to fit everyone”, she snapped. Hey, if that’s what she wants then cool; it’d take loadsa Valium tablets in their tea and a million night vigils to get my folk to acquiesce – in writing - to that, but I’da been ready to do it. Thought I’d actually found my rebel soulmate, u know someone to aim a shiny boot at the bum of the Nigerian ‘oh we do things only one way here’ establishment. Hallelujah. Was so elated I informed her I’d always hoped/dreamed/wished I’d get married with the aforementioned diamond stud in my ear and ….. She stopped me abruptly and said, “Nah, I don’t think my dad would quite like that.” Ouch. Hey, what happened to the whole non-compromising on stuff and all that jazz? Obviously, I didn’t ask her that ‘cos that’da resulted in a Pyrrhic victory where I’da made a valid point but we’d spend the rest of the day arguing. Women, eh? Can’t live with them, can’t live without them……except u want a real lonely existence. Ha. Guess this Fidel’s gonna have to wait on another Che Guevara to come along. Until then I’ll keep hoping. Man, it really would be nice to do things differently now that I am turning 30, but if I can’t I’ll make sure I do my best to get that elusive TV show so I can blame my actions on TV characterisation.

Okay, enuff of the serious stuff lemme tell u what else’s been going on in my head. But first, a disclaimer: It’s 3.40am on Thursday so I reserve to write to claim diminished capacity in case y’all tease me about the contents of this blog when next we meet. Why am I awake, u ask? ‘Cos I can’t friggin’ go to sleep, that’s why. Actually on some group project and a few of team members weren’t pulling their weight so decided to storm off in a huff. Was half expecting them to stop me – man, I am such a drama queen….with an oh-so-nice six pack – but when they didn’t I decided to nap in room for a bit and just woke up. Would be interesting to see how well our presentation on The Key To Good Teamwork goes.

Ooops, is that the time? Guess I’ll wait ‘til next entry to tell y’all what birthday presents I want. Secretly hoping for platinum grillz just so I’d see the reactions of peeps when I open my mouth. Lol…can u imagine someone important like Bill Gates or the Kofi Annan with grillz in their mouth? Hey, maybe that’d be a sketch on my TV show. Tot ziens and God bless.

Okay, one more thang: Er, why are folk ashamed of their significant others, who cares what other folk say/think? U see some dude visited COSMO chick (yeah, her again) and spent the weekend yet she denies dating him. This was the same chick I overheard talking about dude few weeks back. Seems this new ‘we just friends’ line arose after she didn’t get favourable feedback from her friends about the guy’s looks and appearance. Man, are folk so shallow? The speed with which she denied the guy can only mirror Simon Peter’s – see same Sunday School teacher mentioned above.

Okay, must admit I’m partly to blame for COSMO chick’s rejection of her boyfriend. Her actions remind me of a friend, Bux, from Bradford. Bux would tell everyone within ear’s distance how gorgeous ALL her friends are and how none of us Bradford guys could step to them. Man, u’da seen how disappointed I was when I met a number of them. On a scale of 10 even Stevie Wonder wouldn’t grant them a 5. Anyways, COSMO chick’s kinda like that. Anytime one of the guys describes a chick she’ll ask the dude to rate them. “U see I’d say I’m a 7, but most of my friends are 8 and above.” If her friends ain’t the second coming of Catherine Zeta-Jones I swear I’m gonna ask her to reimburse the cost of fixing my phone. So after her ‘boyfriend’ returned to his abode I asked her to rate him. Chick laughed, said “looks aren’t everything”, made her excuses and left the dinner table. Awww, now I feel bad……..but only a little.

Comments-[ comments.]

Sunday, October 01, 2006

I go take am for bus / I go take am for plane……….. Hmmm, all that just to get to Ego’s? One has to wonder where this chick lives.

Hola peeps. Lo siento. Real sorry about last blog entry folks. Read it over again and I seemed to kinda justify the actions of erstwhile arrangement’s boyfriend for getting my number off her phone. Almost sounded like excuses abused women give. “He can’t help but be possessive. He really loves me though. Okay sometimes he hits me, but it’s ‘cos he has no other way of expressing his love. See this scar across my cheek, that was my Valentine’s Day present; a present I’ll always remember. That’s love, baby…”

Lol….just needed to get stuff off my chest and observed over the years that the best way my mind/willpower works is when I make a declaration public I try my utmost to keep it; same happened with the teetotal declaration. On the other hand if I keep an ‘addiction’ to myself I tend to formulate excuses anytime s$%t hits the fan. Just in case y’all feel I’m gonna start offloading heavy stuff on y’all u can relax. To be honest y’all were my last resort. U see I’d earlier contacted a close female friend about my nookie problem, u know, expecting to hear some life-altering female intuitive answer and all I got was, “hmmmm, do u know it’s been over a year since I got me some?” Lol…….how was I supposed to respond to that? So I’ll stop blogging about that aspect of my life and transfer my adventures to my forthcoming memoirs. Anyone wanna buy an advanced copy?

On the subject of memoirs I am currently reading Wole Soyinka’s childhood memoirs, Ake, and boy that dude can write! Amazing how he can recall minutiae of childhood life, while all I can remember about my early years is sneaking under a table in kindergarten to kiss a girl, being kissed by a neighbour who was significantly older when I was 3 or 4 (I’d hoped this arrangement would continue when I bumped into her in boarding school 6 years later, but she was 4 years ahead of me in class and couldn’t even remember me…….boo hoo, she used me!!!!), and having crushes on my mom’s friends. Soyinka also mentioned childhood infatuation on his godfather’s wife so I guess us geniuses have this in common. Ha huh ha huh ha. Just occurred to me that Soyinka’s vivid recollection of childhood is probably due to the fact that he had no TV as a kid…….or maybe I’m just looking for an excuse not to blame my weed intake for slight significant memory loss. It’s herb folks; surely it cannot be bad, can it?

Mate of mine in the UK who has indirectly touched ur lives is so many ways – he was the dude that convinced me to start blogging – has decided to give stand-up comedy a try. Dude’s got a typical British wit and cracks me up most times. So those of y’all in the London area if u happen to come across a four-eyed ginger-haired guy, called Oliver, cracking bad jokes y’all better laff…….or else.

Man, dunno how he’d do it. Watching comedians ‘die’ in front of an audience is probably the most cringe-worthy activity in the entire world. I love taking risks, yet standing in front of a room trying to make total strangers laff is something I don’t think I’d try. More so after a presentation I just gave. I’m currently in Warri schooling folk on dancing and top management decided it’d be best to undertake classes on presentation styles ‘cos they’d received feedback from clients that they’d be willing to cough up more dough if the dancers spoke to them affectionately and an ATM installed in the club. After installing the ATM they got a few of us to practise our presentation skills. After two tries I was informed that my diction is perfect – what else did y’all expect? – but I seem to have this habit of mumbling my words like I’m talking to myself (or having an intimate conversation with a woman) – blame it on those nights spent mimicking Barry White. Plan to take more of such classes to improve my flaws ‘cos no way Nigerians are gonna vote me in as president with egregious oratory skills.

Man, it really would be fun trying out that stand-up thang. Let’s see how my mate does and if I get enuff tips from him I just might try it……once…..while wearing a mask…..and sporting an East African accent. Lol. Actually used to try out loadsa accents with roommate back in Holland. While watching The Hunt For Red October on TV we both remarked about the absurdity of Sean Connery’s acting – dude can act, but uses the same accent in every movie – and came upon a brilliant plan: at the beginning of everyday we’d decide on an accent to mimic and whenever we spoke to each other we’d have to stay in ‘character’; anyone that messed up would be assigned cooking duties the next day. Geeky I know, but it was fun, and as y’all know I’d do anything to avoid spending time in the kitchen and messing up my perfectly manicured nails; that and the fact Constantinov made a heckuva lasagne.

Back to Connery, do y’all women out there actually think the dude is still sexy at his age? I hear that from actresses all the time and I think it’s a load of bollocks. American TV/Movies have convinced us to consider some things as veritable statements: Sean Connery is sexy and shall continue to be so even when he’s rotting in his grave (Ooooh, Sean’s skeleton’s so sexy, look at the way the maggots move in and out of his eye sockets….); Julia Roberts is gorgeous; Drew Carey is funny; Friends is a funny show; Reality shows are the future of TV; anytime u wanna escape in a car u can find the keys in the ignition or somewhere close at hand; etc. All friggin’ lies. Don’t have the time or energy to nitpick on points raised, but plan to have a section on my TV show – format to be revealed soon – called S%$T I NEED TO GET OFF MY CHEST:

Don’t believe what movies tell u about Sean Connery being sexy at his age. Not saying looks are the only sign of sexiness or that old folk cannot be sexy – I’d date Helen Mirren, Pam Grier or Candice Bergen in a heartbeat – it’s just that most of it is all publicists’ drivel to make one watch Sean’s movies. Ever notice it’s only female actors who star in movies with Sean that blab on about his ethereal animal magnetism. Would they really wanna sleep with him – maybe Vivica A. Fox would as she’s desperate to kick-start her career – if they had the chance? Na lie.
Also I wish actors would stop citing him as inspiration ‘cos though dude can act that same Scottish accent in every role he plays is starting to piss me off. At least give it a try, Sean. I am paying to watch ur movies, give it a try. ‘Cos of his successful career folk like Kevin Costner thought it germane to play Robin Hood with an American accent, and the current too-lazy-to-learn-an-accent actor du jour Colin Farrell is following the same career path. What we need are more actors like Brendan Glesson who’s played various nationalities (Irish, Scottish, American, Panamanian, English, South African, etc.) and made them all believable. When I become president of Nigeria he’s gonna be my Special Adviser on Accents – just in case I bump into Constantinopoulus again. Maybe I’d get him to teach these Nollywood folk a thang or two (or a million) about acting.

Phew, I feel so much better. And now for some entertainment news: Er, do u know anyone who likes London Bridge by Fergie (from Black Eyed Peas fame)? Awful, awful song. Chick’s letting the wolf whistles from NY construction workers get to her head. Who does she think she is, Nicole Scherzinger?

Speaking of lovely, lovely Nicole, the only chick I’d consider leaving Angelina Jolie – yes, I am back on that crush again – for, didn’t she look crazy hot (like she always does) in the Come To Me video? P.Diddy on the other hand looked like he had run outta dance steps. It’s okay, Diddy, every guy tries to avoid it, but the older one gets the more one starts dancing like one’s folks. Dreading the day I’ll subconsciously start executing my dad’s favourite two-step. Aaarrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhh.
Feel Diddy might be having a mid-life crisis ‘cos noticed he had grillz on his lower teeth as well. Hey, it just occurred to me that those might actually be braces disguised as grillz. Damn, ain’t it just like Diddy to start a new trend.

Also saw Nicole – I think she’s stalking me – in Avant’s Lie About Us video. That chick must be pissing off the other Pussy Cat Trolls (PDT) by clogging all the limelight, especially considering the fact that she wasn’t a founding member. I wonder what they’ll do when she leaves. Y’all remember that English boy band East 17? Fear the other PCT might end up like those two East 17 members who existed just to do ‘boy band movements’ (ooooh, my heart’s aching so I’ll walk around with my head hanging low; I’m pretending to be hard so I gaze at TV with a scawl just long enuff for the video director to shout “CUT”). I hear one of them’s an ice cream vendor now.

Yeah, what’s up with newscasters staring into the camera for ages until a new video/link comes up. “….and that’s what the president said. We’ll now move to Janie in Chicago for update on the weather. Janie?” Damn, I have been staring at the camera for a few seconds now. Where’s that ho Janie? Probably high on drugs again I bet. Man, I can’t keep up this fake smile on face for much longer….oops, the laxative’s kicking in, I just pooped my pants on live TV with a fake smile on my face. Damn that Janie.

While trying to avoid Nicole I caught Cassie’s (of P.Diddy’s BBE) video Me & U, and suspect BBE might be going broke. Did u see how crap that video was? Just some real flat-chested (and we know TV adds 10 lbs) chick dancing in front of a mirror. Reminded me of Johnny Gill’s first solo video, Rock Me The Right Way. To y’all who are too young/senile to remember the video consisted of just Johnny dancing, no chicks, no dancers, no nada. Even during Johnny’s live performances dude was so tight he wouldn’t bring dancers along. If he could I bet he’da wanted to do the background singing as well.

Craig David was caught smooching with Pepa of Salt N’ Pepa fame. Not Spinderella the cute DJ, but grandma Pepa?! No, Craig, please say it ain’t so. Thought being famous was supposed to ease one’s troubles in hooking up with fine chicks.

Work news: Last weekend the club management took us to Enugu on another bonding session. On the way back to Warri we stopped by some gas station to stretch our legs. This place was located beside a police checkpoint so we felt kinda safe……until the police got alerted about a robbery vehicle that was heading their way. Was like a movie. The police instructed us to move away from the road and hide behind the gas station while they mounted a road block. Surprisingly, my heart wasn’t racing like last time I got mugged. Instead I prayed to God, especially apologizing for last nookie escapade and continued eating my meal of rice and fish. Hmmm, yummy. Anyways, I couldn’t see much from back of gas station, but heard a gunshot and about 30 seconds later walked out to find the police dismantling the road block. Apparently, the robbers fired a warning shot in the air and cops fled their post. Starsky and Hutch this ain’t.

Trip to Enugu was less adventurous, but exciting all the same. Was listening to radio when I Wonder If I Take You Home by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam came on. Took me back to my childhood and then I actually listened to the lyrics: Lately u’ve been expressing to me / Just how much u wanna make love / I want it just as much as u do / But will u still keep in touch / U say I’m teasing but ought to have a reason / Don’t let ur feelings fade / ‘Cos u will have me and sooner than u know it / If u could only wait…….. I actually danced to this as an 8 year old?! Damn. This got me thinking about inspiration behind songs. We all know sex motivates all R. Kelly songs, booty call all Color Me Badd (remember them?) and Jodeci (remember them as well?) songs, and Alicia Keys’ first CD was appealing to her ‘man’ behind bars, but while listening to a few others I think I kinda got an inkling into their origins. I must warn y’all I was high on paraga when this train of thought came chugging along so please take that into consideration when reading the following items:

1. I BRUISE EASILY by Natasha Bedingfield inspired by hypochondriacs.
2. I WONDER IF I TAKE U HOME by Lisa Lisa inspired by naivete.
3. YOU’RE MAKING’ ME HIGH by Toni Braxton inspired by weed or aviation industry.
4. BECAUSE I GOT HIGH by Afroman inspired by er, spiritual upliftment?

Okay, back to the Enugu trip. The team stopped by some geological outcrop at Umanya and couldn’t help but be amazed at God’s creation. However, I noticed something was eerily familiar about a magnificent structure we came across, it wasn’t ‘til the next day I realized what the rock surface reminded me of. My six-pack! The faults on the rock face looked as if someone had taken a chisel to them, the hard surface, the contours, sheer magnifique. OBTW, seems I might need to buy a new belt as my current one seems to have shrunk ‘cos it’s starting to feel tight from all the muscles building around my stomach.

Was quite impressed at the state of roads in Enugu; the place is real clean. The hotel however left much to be desired. Walked into the room I was allotted and seemed as if the hotel cleaners used urine-scented air freshener to disguise the smell of cigarette-soaked bed sheets. Serious, it was that bad; and ‘cos the hotel was fully booked I couldn’t get alternate accommodation. As if that wasn’t bad enuff just as I had put on my new ‘flee from sex’ sneakers some dude at the hotel came up to me and said he’s used to folk from the club staying over in this hotel. He then asked if I’d like some female company. Huh? “I usually organize very fine chicks from the university for guys from ur club”, he boasted. “Just lemme know if u’re interested.” While cracking myself up about it and getting ready to tell colleagues about what just happened, a mate ran up to me saying some dude had approached him about procuring chicks. Lol…, if this dude had worn a fur coat with some gold rings at least we’da had an inkling. Anyways, another mate took up his, er, ‘offer’, but dude didn’t provide as promised….at least that’s what mate said the next day.

Marriage news: Yes, folks, I am getting married. I proposed to Isha Sesay and she said…….ooops, sorry that’s for another blog. Yeah, more mates getting married, but that’s not really news anymore, is it? Decided to write about marriage-related discussions with mates ‘cos it’s occurred more and more in the past few weeks and I hope this will go some way to easing fears of u single ladies out there. Also, the following letter, which was published in a daily last week, convinced me I had to blog about marriage: “Dear Annie, I want to get married and am not good-looking. How can I be good-looking?” Serious, I s&%t u not, that was an actual letter. Annie wnet on to placate chick with trite comments like, “Even if u are not good-looking on the outside, what matters is the inside……” Do peeps actually write these things? I swear if I had more time I’d compose letters of same ilk to gauge Annie’s response. Dear Annie, I am a married man with a proclivity for touching the swollen stomachs of pregnant ladies. I used to be a DJ, and lately I’ve been having dreams of performing at parties, but instead of vinyl records I find myself ‘scratching’ swollen stomachs mounted on a turntable. What can I do to stop from feeling like a freak? Yours, Freaky Guy.

Okay, back to the M word. When last in Lagos discussions with two mates kinda diverted to the topic of mariage and one said if he’d find a chick he’d date for longer than 3 months he’d marry her. His problem is chicks he really digs ain’t even thinking about settling down. The other mate made his case for marriage: “Dudes, do u know how much I spend on the phone with this chick everyday? It’d be cheaper to marry her.” Lol….wait, there’s more. Went out with mates from the club last night and discovered ALL the unmarried guys are anxious to get hitched. ‘Cos most of them are making decent money and their career prospects are good they wanna get hitched before loadsa money starts coming in ‘cos then they wouldn’t know if chick they interested in is after their money. Sad, huh? Some guy actually complained bitterly about chick he’s dating. “All she wants to do is go out for a meal. I spend a fortune feeding this chick every week, at least if we were married bucks I spend on a week’s outing could be used to buy groceries that would last us a month.”

So what have y’all learned from the two scenarios highlighted? Guys DO wanna get married….but mostly ‘cos it makes economic sense. And u wonder why they call us a generation of cynics, huh?

In order to further alleviate my own fears I spoke to two married guys about what makes marriage work or how they knew their wives were the right ones for them.

Married Guy 1 (*married with two kids*): “People say marriage is a 50-50 relationship. That’s BS. Marriage is a 100-100 thang. Give 100% of urself to ur wife and trust me she would return the favour. Also, before u choose a partner u must pray and make sure ur wife has what u’ve always admired in a woman. If u’re a boobs-guy and u marry a woman who’s flat-chested believe me whenever she makes u angry u’ll go out looking for what u feel she’s missing.”

Married Guy 2 (*been married just over 6 months*): “Dude, if u dating someone and she bores the heck outta u, run for ur life. Also if u plan to have daughters some day be careful how u choose ur wife ‘cos ur daughter would DEFINITELY end up like her mother….and u wouldn’t want some poor mug to suffer like u did, would ya? ”

Hmmm, y’all reckon Married Guy 2 is trying to tell me something? Ha. Anyways, sought a female’s opinion and think I chose the wrong female ‘cos she informed me her boyfriend just ended their relationship after he discovered she’d be earning more than him in her new job. Woah, are guys really bothered by that? Had thot Loye was joking when he said, “with that and her highly paid job, that’s DEFINITELY another year without a boyfriend”, after a family friend informed us she had purchased a new car. Man, it’s even tougher out there for women than I thought.

Er, er, there is hope for y’all single ladies out there. In order to give this a Hollywood ending I called a married mate who seems to be a marriage maven and she said something quite enlightening: “Was in the UK before I returned to Nigeria and on the tube all u see is females reading their BRIDGET JONES and MEMOIR OF A GEISHA novels and talking to no one. Then they get home and complain that they single. If I were in their shoes I’d put the books away and make eye contact or something. U gotta place urself out there so guys get a hint.” Hmmmm, makes one wonder, don’t it?

If u think that’s just the mad ramblings of a married woman y’all remember COSMO chick from last entry? She’s been trying so hard to hook guys up with her single friends – she says they all good-looking – she sometimes forgets who she’s attempted to hook up. Guess this is her indirect way of putting herself in the shop window seeing as she’s single.

COSMO chick: Tunde, u gotta meet this friend of mine, she’s ……
Tunde: Hey, slow down. Remember u already gave me ______’s number. Remember, my phone went kaput after I stored her number?
COSMO chick: Lol…oh yeah, I forgot. So u called her?
Tunde: Er,
COSMO chick: Forget about her, she won’t like u anyways. There’s this other chick who’s……….

As if to further emphasis the point I met a lady who introduced herself and suffixed the name with the unforgettable line, ”that’s Miss, not Mrs o!”. I cracked up, but realized she’s making a conscious effort to put herself out there. Of course, that might scare some guys away and make them think she’s desperate and ……hey, I promised y’all a Hollywood ending, didn’t I? Guess I’ll end there. Gotta go compose my Dear Annie letter. Tot ziens and God bless.

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