Hibachi!

Hola peeps. Realmente le he faltado los individuos. Again I apologise for the silence. Wish I’d say I’ve been busy saving the whales or some celeb-bandwagony cause, but been stuck on the R.I.G……well that, and investigating who Temmy Tayo (check out comments) is. It took all my Sherlock Homeboy skills but finally bagged the chick’s identity. Her name is ……….hmm, let’s keep the suspense going for some time.

Normally I’d not say anything Temmy Tayo baby, but u post a comment on my blog offering to marry my bro, and not me?! What’s wrong with me, my six-pack not good enuff for u? Okay, must admit it’s now five-and a half pack due to copious amount of cheesecake I’ve been consuming, but I’m working hard at it. Lol…hey, ever wonder why most women act out when u ask about their mates and not them? Peep this: was behind this chick in a queue once at the train station and ‘cos I had seen her chatting with some fox earlier I introduced myself and asked, “what’s up with ur friend?” U’da seen how her smile quickly flipped the opposite way. “WHY DON’T U ASK HER URSELF?!”, she blurted. Always wondered why women get miffed when a dude’s not interested in them, even if it’s a dude they don’t fancy. One of life’s great mysteries, huh?
Guys, on the other hand, might get a bit upset, but they’d quickly get over it. “Hmmm, so she likes Brad Pitt instead of moi. No problem, I hope all works out for them and their brood. Man, who am I kidding? I hope she gets dumped so she can come running back to me!”

Sorry for digressing. So Temmy Tayo baby if u want Ayo’s number it’s gonna cost u loadsa Milky Bar chocolates. Else u’d just ask ur fellow Nigerians in the UK and I’m sure one of them will know someone who knows someone who knows the owner of a kebab shop who serves a Nigerian who is so cheap he takes more tissue than is necessary to wipe his mouth so he’d use the outstanding as bog roll who has a girlfriend who knows Ayo’s girlfriend. So we cool now? U gonna stop making marriage proposals to family members on my blog? Good. Yeah, yeah love u too.

So how y’all been? Moi? I’d tell tales and tales, but first a special announcement. My bro Ayo now reads my blog. How did he discover it? (Yes, I know u reading it now u punk ass, and smiling from ear to ear ‘cos Temmy Tayo’s deranged enuff to fancy u.) Turns out my favourite of his exes (u know urself) told him about it and first email I got from the dude was, “So what’s my ring tone?” Ha. Since then the cheap ass dude emails me quite often…..to enquire about Temmy Tayo! Dude, u really wanna know what ur ring tone is? How’s about the li’l known ditty by Malik Shabaaz, Ssshhhh. My bro’s adopted, but doesn’t know it?

Hey Temmy Tayo, just so u know Ayo’s got a girlfriend and I don’t think u are his type. (When asked what kinda girls he likes dude replied, “chicks with hips that don’t lie.”) For one, he likes chicks whose backsides should come with a health warning. When we hung out at the movies back when they were in the country li’l kids kept pointing at his girlfriend’s arse and asking their moms, “Mommy, is that the 8th wonder of the world?” Serious. The width of one arse cheek is enuff to balance sinking ice carps, thus reversing effects of global warming. Ever seen an arse cheek with dimples? This chick’s does. How do I know? U can see them from her baggy jeans. I tell u Shakespeare coulda written a play about her assets. As a matter of fact I think I’m gonna do that when I get some time. Even got a title for it: ASS ON FIRE. Lol…..man, I kill myself.

Ayo, just so u know Temmy Tayo’s actually quite fine. Was there when one older cat described her as “the epitome of a black woman”. That said it’s been ages since I seen her so a lot coulda changed. Takes me back to Bradford when the ACS (Afro Caribbean Society) organised a surprise charity auction. Folk were asked to describe themselves in 3 words or less. Can’t remember how I described myself – I know RICH was one of the words – but got the largest pot. (Yes, so proud of that 3 quid that got paid for me I actually put that on my CV: Costliest male in secret auction).
In turn I put in the highest bid for some chick that described herself as VOLUPTUOUS. Now the hostess of the night was voluptuous (and then some), and always seemed to have lip gloss on her lips, so I covertly asked if she was the Voluptuous chick. She said, “maybe” and walked away. Through out the night I am exchanging winks with this chick and not caring that her boyfriend’s around. Then comes up the bid number and I’m bidding like crazy, “50 pence, 1 pound 52 pence….” – hey we were frigging broke students – until I won. To cut a longish story shortish I ran onto the stage, hugged the hostess, shook my bum at the audience and was ready to claim my prize. Then discovered I’d been hoodwinked all along, the hostess was never in the running! The girl that described herself as voluptuous was actually more vol than luptuous if u catch my drift. So just to warn thee my beloved brother Ayo, do not fall for Temmy Tayo ‘til u see her…and after then remember u have a girlfriend. Capisci? Bueno.

PH news: I know I complain about this town a lot, but I’ve learnt to appreciate it’s certain charm. Psych! Who am I kidding? It still sucks. However, being in PH has let me experience a different side of Nigeria. For example, I get to hear songs folk in Lagos would have no clue about. The funniest one at the moment is by a songwriter who could probably compete with R.Kelly as Dude most likely to write a song about anything. Song has the following chorus: Ashawo don get belle, ashawo don get belle. Shakara don end o. (The promiscuous girl is preggers, no more showing off from her.) Lol…how does one even begin to analyze that song? Problem is chorus is so catchy I find myself humming it everywhere.

R.I.G. news: The greatest character on the R.I.G.- yes, the ‘buoyant’ dude - is still up to his wily ways. Do u know this dude spends his days surfing the Nigerian SUN newspapers website and calling the SUN Page 3 chicks? Didn’t even know those numbers were for real. To make matters worse dude uses the satellite phone to call the chicks so he’d pretend he’s out of the country. Dude sure needs a life.

Y’all know how I keep harping on about discovering something new whenever I am on the R.I.G.? Well, just discovered if I place my phone to the left, to the left side of my PC, slant it at a sixty-two degree angle from horizontal, and serenade it with cries of Hibachi! three times in one minute – call my phone The Candyman if u want – the reception on my phone goes from zilch to 4 full bars. Yes, I can finally receive calls on the R.I.G. If only I can get my family to call. Sob….sob.

Other stuff discovered about the R.I.G. can be taxonomied (no, it’s not a word but always liked the sound of it) into Obvious and Eerie; the latter first (Oh my darling Tunde, I love when u play with words. That blonde illiterate Brad always spends his time gazing into a mirror. If I’d known u’d adopt my kids I’d not have chilled with him. Please stick around until I dump him. Love u, Angelina).

This tour of the R.I.G. has been particularly stressful. The other day I spent 26 hours on my feet teaching the recruits my new choreography called The Gravel Pack. It involves at least 20 people of similar height and hairstyle and…….nah, it’s too complicated for y’all. Besides don’t want Wade Robson nicking it and displaying it on his vanity project show. Hey, speaking of which any of u seen Ur Mama on MTV? Why can’t MTV get better hosts like Nick Cannon on Wild ‘N Out? Wilma Valderrama is best known for what exactly? Oh look at me, my career’s in skids ‘cos That 70s Show got cancelled and I’ve tried to be in the public eye by dating pre-pubescent chicks but no one seems to care. Damn, what I wouldn’t do to have R. Kelly’s publicist. Oh, but he has talent and doesn’t have a speech impediment like moi. Damn.

So like I was saying typing the time spent on the R.I.G. has taken its toll on me. I no longer crave the food here – guess being served rice daily would do that to one – and not as excited about working out as I once was. Maybe I’m getting to that point all men reach where they stop giving a hoot about their waistline. Even stars are looking chunkier nowadays – Busta (open a pack of pork rinds) Rhymes, Eminem (eating more M&Ms), R. Kelly (trapped in the pantry), William (stomach going where no man has gone before) Shatner, John (does my cleft look fat on this face?) Travolta, Val Kilmer, Rosie (I am really a man) O’Donnell, etc. Only dude who seems to be keeping the faith is Sting, and that’s ‘cos he’s vegetarian….and his wife cannot cook.

All in all I don’t sleep enuff ‘cos of the work load and end up stealing zzzzzzzz here and there. It was on one of such hitches it occurred to me that I am a human alarm clock! I’ve now discovered that sleep’s all in one’s head. I tell myself I’m gonna wake up an hour after my head hits the pillow and I’m usually smack dab right on track, give or take a second or two. Eerie, innit? U don’t believe me? Okay I’ll prove it to y’all. I am gonna take a break from writing this crap and nap for 5 minutes. Y’all ready? Here goes: 1 minute, 2 minutes……3 minutes 45 secs, 4 minutes 58 seconds, 4 minutes 59 seconds…..5 minutes! There u go. Man, I’d be on TV with talent like this. Narcolepsy my arse.

While we on the subject of self discoveries it has come to my attention that I swear worse than I used to. A friend I hadn’t seen in a while brought it to my attention and I replied, “Moi swear? No f%$king way”. When another mate mentioned it I did some self analysis and decided they are f%$king right. U see, u see; I gotta learn to curb this. I thought long and hard about this and informed folk to smack me across the face whenever I uttered a curse word. It’s radical, and I have a huge scar on my left cheek from an overzealous ex-“friend” to show for it, but it worked a threat. Maybe it’s as a result of the blows to the face but the no-cussing side of Tunde is now more emotional. I notice I now appreciate the li’l things in life such as the pitter-patter of baby feet (while I scare the living daylights outta them in my Margaret Beckett face mask). Also learnt to write poetry (about how life revolves around me), and provide radical solutions to some of life’s deepest quandaries. While others ponder which came first, the chicken or the egg, I spend my (*Hercule Poirot accent*) “little gray cells” (and lone grey hair in soul-patch) pondering what existed first, the bachelor’s eve party or strippers? Betcha even Aristotle woulda been flummoxed by that one. Think about it, there’s gotta be a reason apart from amorousness that makes guys think a bachelor’s eve party is not complete without gyrating naked chicks. This topic’s come to the fore ‘cos (yet another) mate’s getting married in May and as he’s based in the UK it has fallen upon his friends in Nigeria to sort something out. Tired of same ol’ cliché, especially after that Russian stripper I fell in love with broke my heart…..musta told y’all about it before….still seeing a shrink to get over the pain.

Following on from my advice to Kinzo (and all soon-to-be-married folk) last blog entry I’ve decided if the groom’s not named Peter Stringfellow or Hugh Hefner then it’s best to organize a circus-themed bachelor’s eve party that helps the groom realize what he’s getting into. Hire circus performers such as:

a. Bearded lady – to show what to expect of one’s wife. Fiancee might end up having one of those Tom Selleck (back in Magnum days) moustaches and it’s best to brace urself for it now.
b. Guy fired outta a cannon – to show what the rest of ur life would be like if ur wife catches u cheating.
c. Lion tamer – u’ll need this skill when ur dad-in-law comes visiting.
d. Muscle man – to deter all those boys from dating ur daughter(s).
e. Clown – sure I’ll show up when invited so long as u name ur first kid Tunde. I know folk don’t like the reincarnation theme of Babatunde, but u’d try AyoTUNDE, OluTUNDE, or go all African American and remix the name like DenzelTUNDE, BradPittTUNDE.
f. Fortune teller – nah, u don’t need this service. Just avoid hanging with ur wife’s garrulous friends (especially those that own hair salons) and u’ll have an ace marriage.

Man, I sure can go off on a tangent. Reading back I was supposed to tell y’all about the goings-on on the R.I.G., right? Okay here goes.

’Obvious’ R.I.G. news: ‘Obvious’ ‘cos it’s stuff that’s quite evident, but never knew it was this bad. Obviously (there’s that word again) the R.I.G.’s filled with only guys and some folk spend as much as two months here so it’s quite understandable that folk, especially the married ones, would have needs after spending a week or so. Recently discovered that there are some species on this underground club cum bootcamp that oughta be in another line of work, at least one that keeps them on land.

Feel particularly bad for some newbie on the R.I.G. who’s getting married soon. Dude has serious cold feet and asked some married folk for advice. Problem is the two guys he chose seem to be illegitimate sons of John Witherspoon. “So u scared ur wife-to-be might be jigging someone else while u on the R.I.G.? Why bother? As u see me I’ve got 5 kids and if my wife chooses to mess around the better for me. Every time I see her it’s just gonna be Bang! Bang! Bang! and that’s it. As long as she’s had kids for me who cares what she gets up to. So long as she’s ready for the Bang! Bang! Bang! when I’m around, I’m cool.” After 3 days of listening to The Witherspoons dude stopped calling his fiancée, totally convinced that she’s up to no good.

I’da advised him I know, but lately I don’t even trust what comes outta my mouth. Peep this: a female friend from the UK called and I’d tell something was up.

Tunde: U cheated on ur boyfriend, didn’t ya?
Mate: HOW DID U KNOW?! Well, it depends on how u define “cheating”; is kissing part of cheating?
Tunde: Lol….u seeking justification from me?
Mate: Lol…okay I get what u saying. Man, I feel so bad though. I mean I love my boyfriend but I am digging this guy as well. I feel so guilty. I never thought I’d be the cheating kind……
Tunde: Babes, don’t feel bad. It happens to the best of us most times. If it’s the guilt u worried about it’ll soon pass. Cheating gets easier the more u do it.

U what?! See what I mean? I almost felt like smacking myself after I went over what I said. I mean it might be true, but this chick’s like a younger sister to me, is that the kinda advice I’d be proffering? Would I be happy if Angelina was given the same advice? Man, I don’t know myself sometimes. So y’all can understand why I didn’t say squat to that dude on the R.I.G. If my mouth had its way it probably woulda ranted off some of Kinzo’s greatest infidelity stories and that woulda depressed him even more….and cracked me up no end. Yes, I know I need help.

A few days later while flipping channels I came across some WWE fight and mate and I sat laffing at the absurdity of the thang when another dude walked in and cracked up as well. I said, “Lol….can u imagine that folk actually pay to see this live?” Dude replies, “Yeah…and that big busted chick in the front row sure looks delectable.” Huh? This dude had arrived only a day before! The next day, while telling someone about my girlfriend Angelina same dude said, “Angelina’s so fine I’d sell my soul for one night with her.” If tomorrow is judgement day/And I’m standing on the front line/And the Lord asks me what I did with my life/I will say I spent it with you (Angelina)……..and He’ll say please step to hell. Lol….let’s just say I quickly ran to the Xtian fellowship soon afterwards.

Yeah, almost forgot to tell y’all that I was asked to preach at the fellowship. U know that sit-at-the-back-pew-and-hope-nobody-notices-u thang I am wont to do? Well, I got caught out this time. As turnout was quite low some Sunday I was asked if I’d take the mid-week service. I asked, “By ‘take’ what do u mean exactly?” Dude who suggested it laffed and walked away. The ff went thru my head: Man, what am I gonna do? I’d always back out, but then folk would call me a wuss and that wouldn’t exactly cut it, u know being the ADS and all. Hmmm, maybe I’d feign illness…but then they’d ask me to preach at the next opportunity. Hmmmm, I’d always preach about love. That’s easy. Love thy neighbour, love thy fellow members of the R.I.G., love thy wife….nah, that might set off too many thoughts. I know what I’ll do, I’ll pray.

So I prayed to God for something I’d talk knowledgeably about, but nada came to me. The mid-week service came and went and I still didn’t have nada, so I asked to take the Sunday service instead. Again I prayed, okay that’s a lie; I kinda coasted the rest of the week. Sunday came round and when it was an hour to go I suddenly remembered I didn’t have a topic so decided to lock myself in my room and not come out until something was revealed to me. Lord, You know me. You know I joke about a lot but I really need Your help here. Look Lord, Arsenal’s playing Man Utd at the moment and I’d be out there watching the game but I’m here talking to You. You know that’s gotta count for something. Please reveal a word, a passage, anything that I can honestly talk about…….and I know I might be taking the piss, but please help Arsenal not lose the game…..and while You are at it please help The Colts win Super Bowl XLI.

As it turns out a passage (Psalm 91) a friend’s mom told me about came to me and while reading it I obtained a new meaning, so that’s what I preached about. I’m sure it was the shortest message they ever heard at the fellowship, but it struck a chord with me……and not only did Arsenal not lose that game they beat Man Utd……and discovered yesterday Tony Dungy’s Indianapolis Colts beat the Chicago Bears in Super Bowl XLI. Thank You Lord. Er, any of y’all got prayer requests? Ha. Tot ziens and God bless.