Thursday, November 20, 2008

Unlike other Nigerian actors I speak Queen’s Yoruba fluently

Wadap! U must to cure my craze
Wadap! Everytime I see u I dey craze

Hola peeps. No pienso que he estado nunca lejos de usted para esto mucho antes.

Man, I’ve missed u guys!!!!! Trust me I wanted to write y’all sooner. Had so much stuff in my head to let out, there just wasn’t any opportunity to put them down on laptop; heck there wasn’t any opportunity to open the laptop in the first place. U know how I always kid that there’s no rest for the talented? Well, got to experience that 1st hand. U see after last blog entry….nah, nah I got a confession to make first.

Hi my name is Tunde and I am a fashion victim. While chilling in Lagos last week younger sister Mama came up to me and said, “Tunde, I am so sorry. Lola dropped these off a while back but forgot to give them to you. She said there are from aunt Jaiye.” Awww, dontcha just love Mama? More importantly dontcha just love presents? Yippeee.

Spent the next day at home so in one of my bored moments decided to try on the clothes Jaiye copped me. Hmmm, that’s strange, she left the price tag on the items…oh well. Tried on the polo shirt and it fit quite nicely. Being a true fashion victim I tried various poses with the collar up, collar down, collar tilted. Went with tilted collar.

Now time to try on the $24 pants. Strangely these pants had just a button and a little zipper. While trying to force them on I felt like those women one sees on TV who try to squeeze into pants. There I was sucking in, jumping, twisting. The thought even crossed my mind that the pants would fit better if I didn’t have any boxer shorts on. After several attempts I massaged myself into the pants (with boxer shorts on) and my unborn kids screamed out in pain as I tried to walk. Did that stop me? No sirree, I am a fashion victim darn it!

So I walk try to walk around the house with this crazy bulge in my crotch area like I am Michael Hutchence or something. It hurts like heck, but us fashion victims don’t give up that easily. So I hop to the TV room and choose a stretch left leg while bending right knee alignment as the most comfortable position for watching TV. I keep this up – barely - for the next hour b4 deciding to take off pants ‘cos the red hue this fashion victim’s face was increasingly taking on was starting to clash with the teal pants. Phew, relief!

As was the only one in the house at the time I padded down the, ahem, crotch area with scented talcum powder and walked around in a towel for the rest of the day. B4 I retired to bed I dialled Jaiye’s number in the US to thank her for the present. You gonna love her response: “Huh? No, I can’t remember copping u any clothes. U said what? Sorry, the connection is kinda bad….u said Mama said what? That Lola dropped off…..oh now I see. Ha. Lola musta got the message wrong. The clothes belong to Kinzo’s wife, she forgot them when she came visiting early this year.” That’s right my readers, I am a closet transvestite. Pssstttt, it’ll be our secret, right? Right? Come on, u guys gotta promise not to tell anyone.

Ahem, ahem, so where was I b4 I got the strange urge to embarrass myself? Yes, I remember now. U see after last blog entry was sent to an undisclosed location in the Niger Delta to pass on dance moves and what was supposed to be a one week gig ended up lasting 22 whopping days ‘cos most of the students had two bow left feet that pointed towards each other.

Left the location on my birthday and drove directly to the airport to cop plane tickets to Lagos. Called everyone I knew and told them Tunde would be returning to Lagos after almost 2 months away. Big mistake. Boss called a day later and instructed that I’d been booked on a chopper flight to the Niger Delta swamps ‘cos the client there requested for me specifically.

The days spent ‘entertaining’ Ma Baker and her loutish friends were the worst 10 days of my life. Yes, even worse than my telemarketing days as a student. As part of Her Attractive Royal Ma-ness’ – yes, she insisted we call her that - sick fantasy I was forced to spend my nights in some rat-infested, insect-plagued shack. Man, the things I do for money. Sob…sob….’cos one takes off most of one’s clothes – yes, I regard a glow-in-the-dark g-string as clothing – and dances for money don’t mean one doesn’t have feelings…..sob…sob.

H.A.R.M’s so sick she took away the mirror from the rooms – trust me it’s weird not knowing what ur face looks like for ten whole days – and disconnected the TV so when I wasn’t entertaining her crew I spent whatever free time there was sleeping and trying to overcome ennui. Knew it was time to concoct a plan that’s get me outta H.A.R.M’s way (geddit? geddit? Aw forget yous) when I started having crazy dreams like one where I was invited to the Playboy mansion only this time Hugh Hefner was a self-pitying Urhobo man with only one white chick in his stable. Also starting thinking what I regarded at the time as existential stuff like How did clapping hands evolve as a means of appreciating someone or giving someone a round of applause? Did Neanderthals start off by hitting head against rocks and thought that it didn’t sound as good, plus it hurt like heck? and How come chicks in ALL Indian movies have the same singing voice? and Who started the 555 stuff in Hollywood movie telephone numbers? Yup, it was that bad.

To add salt to the proverbial injury (of being forced to live in such dire conditions) H.A.R.M kept me away from her other male staff so only time we’d conversate was during meals. Man, I tell u it was worse than a prison movie. As a result of our treatment we bonded by exchanging sob stories about being done wrong by women. Mary J. Blige and Destiny’s Child woulda been so proud. The saddest, and somewhat funniest, was by this dude who told us about girls that left him when his financial status was dismal.

Broke dude: But I love u!
Soon-to-be dude’s ex: Ehen, na love I go chop? I don’t think this relationship is working, we should end it.
Broke dude: But…
Soon-to-be dude’s ex: But what? Okay give me five thousand naira to fix my hair
Broke dude: But u know I am still searching for paid employment and…
Soon-to-be dude’s ex: U see, just five thousand I requested and u no get. My friend, let me advise u. What u need now is a job not a woman…

Man, that story got me rolling on the floor in stitches. Those stories sure kept me going while the hours went by s-l-o-w-l-y. Craved for Lagos more and more ‘cos our story sessions reminded me of instances when male siblings and I would get together and while ribbing each other about dodgy antics towards women truths would inevitably spill out. The last time this occurred was earlier this year when I was in the UK. Among Kinzo, Loye, Jide and I we newly discovered:

i. someone’s ex was a bit of a gold digger who had a knack of spelling goodbye goodBUY in text messages; probably her subconscious coming to the fore

ii. about three of us had dated drama queens who had to be the centre of attention and got easily jealous. Coincidentally, or should that be unsurprisingly, they rated top two in good-looking stakes as compared to other exs

iii. the four of us have probably spent more money on platonic female friends we are genuinely fond of than exs on an individual basis

The experience working for H.A.R.M left me so weak – had a bout of malaria while there but wasn’t given any time off – I found myself swearing that once I raised enough funds to open my own male escort agency I’d do things differently and…. Who am I kidding? I most probably would exploit my workers worse than H.A.R.M, but at least I’ll do it with a sad ‘I am one of u and feel ur pain’ look on my face.

Googoo gahgah news: Y’all remember 11-month-married mate in PH? In April 2008 we had the ff exchange:

4-month-married mate: Dude, the wife’s pregnant!
Ecstatic Tunde: Good on ya man, good on ya. Congratulations. So, so proud of u…okay that whole ‘proud of u’ line sounded weird, huh?
4-month-married mate: Ha. Sure did. Man, I am gonna be a father.
Somewhat less ecstatic Tunde: Yup. More responsibility for u. Man, I am so glad I ain’t married. Better u than me bruv.
4-month-married mate: Gee, thanks.
Somewhat depressed Tunde: U know I’m kidding. A baby girl, woah.
4-month-married mate: What did u say? Who said it was a girl?
Tunde: Oops, sorry to throw that on u. Thought I’d told u about this skill I have. U see my older bro Kinzo has a talent for telling a girl’s bra size just by looking at her….
4-month-married mate: So?
Tunde: And my other bro Ayo has a talent for dating chicks with British or American passports..
4-month-married mate: Lol…no that’s not a talent that’s a well-honed skill, but go on
Tunde: Me, I seem to be able to predict a baby’s sex. I know u gonna laugh, but it’s true. For instance, I dreamt my cousin’s wife was gonna have a girl a full year before she even got pregnant. I can give u other cases where I’ve been right on the money. It’s not like I go to random peeps and tell them the sex of their unborn kids, just that with certain people I know these things.
4-month-married mate: Sure, sure
Disappointed-that-his-skill-is-being-doubted Tunde: I am serious dude! Okay let’s take a wager if u will. Dude, ur wife is having a girl.
4-month-married mate: Whatever man. I know I am having a boy, I just feel it.
Tunde: If u so sure about ur feelings then place a wager on it. No, no, forget what I said about the wager. I should only use my baby-sex-predicting power for good. Think my talent is to help expectant parents plan properly, u know cop pink clothes if they having girls and blue if they having boys, and a mix of blue and pink if they having a hermaphrodite. Ha huh ha huh ha. Hey, mixing blue and pink gives purple, right? Or is it magenta?
4-month-married mate: U need help man.

Last Sunday I get a text message from 11-month-married mate and wouldn’t u know it his wife gave birth to a girl. Thank u, thank u. I’ll be playing here all week. Like I told mate I dunno how I do it but I just know. What other skills do I have, u ask? Well, sometimes I dream about the weirdest thangs and they come through. While crashing at my cuz Femi’s house dreamt mom was mugged. An hour after I wake my sis Nike calls to tell me mom’s bag got snatched while shopping. That was in the UK. Two years later while in the ATL I dreamt Arsenal beat Birmingham City (5-1). ‘Cos of earlier experience I wrote the score down soon as I woke up. Sure enough later that day Arsenal beats Birmingham City by same score. Quite ironic ‘cos my Xtian name is Joseph! U couldn’t make this stuff up, huh?

My dream-coming-through skill happens once in a while so dunno if it can be classified as a skill or talent. One that’s just as consistent as the baby-sex-prediction is being able to tell what parent a person looks like. Again this only happens with certain individuals; I see a total stranger and can tell if they look more like their mom or dad. Now this is probably not as useful as helping parents choose right colour of clothes, but I’m sure it has its advantages…..though haven’t discovered any yet.

I seem to have gone off on another tangent (as usual). Memo to self: Do something about ur logorrheic writing. Anyways while in Lagos I visited two crushes that just had kids. Yes, I correctly predicted the sex of one of the babies.

I’ve written about this in a blog before, but still can’t fathom what happens to chicks’ diffidence soon as they give birth. Here I am visiting this chick I still have a li’l crush on and out pops a boob to feed her baby. She was a bit, ahem, big-bosomed b4 she got pregnant but now they are like… humungous water melons! If that wasn’t bad enough she’s describing how painful it feels. U see here…look now! Here just around the nipple, when the baby sucks it peels like the outer layer of a fruit so when it gets real sore I move the baby to the other boob. See how this nipple is darker than this other one….why u avoiding ur eyes? Lol…u’d better look so u’ll know what ur wife’ll go through….. Arrrggghhhhhh

When the going is going good
Many many people will be ur friend
When the going is going bad
Many of ur friends will run away

World news: So what’s been happening with y’all since last blog entry? Y’all still on a high after Obama’s victory? I tell y’all I was skipping between CNN, BBC and Sky News so much on the morning of the 5th my right thumb was sore for days. It was a wonderful feeling. Had to read the transcript of Obama’s victory speech though ‘cos went to bed after McCain’s concession speech. Poor Sarah Palin. As the campaign went on my crush on her started to fade, especially after I saw the Kate Couric interview where she couldn’t name a newspaper she reads. If u American and u reading this go thank God McCain wasn’t elected. Y’all avoided a big turd sandwich on that one.

Though the election is over there still remain some questions I want answers to:

1. To John McCain, my question is, was it worth it after all? U wanted something so bad u went extra negative and now u lost. Ur ‘maverick’ rep is in tatters and no one’s probably returning ur calls. If u think no one quite knows how u feel go Google ‘Obasanjo, Olusegun Aremu’. At times like these I listen to Garth Brooks’ Unanswered Prayers. U can bet after how Bush’s ruined America that’s the most played song on Al Gore’s iPod.

2. How does one become an undecided voter? U mean after a crazy long campaign these punks couldn’t make up their minds? Undecided my blistered left arse cheek. Really wanna tell me the sole black dude at the Obama - McCain town hall debate was undecided? Dude nearly ran over someone to take pics with Obama for goodness sake!

3. To CNN, what u guys gonna do with ur stupid hologram thingy now the election is over? What of ur magic board, Wolf and John King gonna use it to play noughts and crosses until 2012? In Nigeria we have a name for corporations like u: money miss road.

4. To my mates Omolola and Omotola (aka Obama stalkers), what u guys gonna do with ur time now? Ha. Man, Omotola (aka Moleculo) had such a man crush on Obama he labelled dissenting black voices ‘sellouts’. Had to call him out on his guilt by (non-Obama) association line after he dissed CNN contributor Amy Holmes. Come on, with a smile like that I had to stand up for her.

5. To Sarah Palin, y’all got phones over there in Alaska? How come u ain’t called me? Miss u.

Lagos news: Same ol’ same ol’. Gorged on movies as usual. U know how some James Bond fans were against the choice of Daniel Craig in the beginning, and one of the reasons was ‘cos “he looks weird”? Well, now I get what those folks meant. Wasn’t impressed with Quantum Of Solace, not after the exciting Casino Royale. Shoulda known it’d be a let down after the long, crap song accompanying the opening montage. Alicia keys and Jack White shouldn’t have wasted their time and ours.

Also saw Lakeview Terrace (aiight), Righteous Kill (not bad, better than I thought it’d be), and Pineapple Express. Now I loved, LOVED Pineapple Express. The action scenes were a bit over the top and not that relevant, but the flow of the movie was ace. The guy who played the character Red really stole the movie. His reason for shaving his armpits? “So I can aerodynamically fight”. Man, that movie sure took me back to when I used to toke a lot. It captured the actions of a quintessential weedhead and the camaraderie shared by weedheads. Did I tell u I loved the movie?

As usual was ace seeing family, and as usual mom tugged at the heart strings while trying to get me to eat. It wasn’t my fault, u see car I use in Lagos was kaput so whenever I obtained a ride I tried to do as much as possible. As a result I’d almost always get home when it’s too late to have a huge meal. On one of my sojourns I got a text message from mom: It’s amazing how u don’t have the time to eat in ur home. The boli I bought u 2 days ago is still in the fridge and u haven’t touched the fresh fish soup I cooked. God help ur wife. Lol…u gotta love this woman.

Discovered Ayo’s planned the family’s introduction to his fiancée’s family – yup, he’s really taking the plunge – for December. I’d write the date but with all the girls Ayo’s offended over the years I fear for his safety. Ha. U’da seen Chief when he told me, dude was beaming like the sun. Probably counting down the days ‘til the rest of us get hitched. Unfortunately, his dream of having all his kids married b4 his 70th birthday next year doesn’t look possible. Hey, there can only be one dreamer in this family, right? Also discovered dude’s chosen someone to pen his biography, the release date I suppose will coincide with his birthday. Nice.

When he told me about the biography I thought, Why didn’t he get me to write the biography? Sure writing a blog for over 4 years doesn’t qualify me as an ‘author’ but I am sure I could tell an okay story. Maybe he thinks I’ll embellish my impact on his life. If so, he’s probably right. Ha. But the least he coulda done was ask me. Oh wait a minute, the family’s not supposed to know I even have a blog. Ooops.

She's Saying That's Ok
Hey Baby Do What You Please
I Have The Stuff That You Want
I Am The Thing That You Need

Non-relationship news: Oh almost to forgot to tell y’all that soon as I left H.A.R.M and returned to Warri I moved stuff into new crib and flew to Lagos the next day. Man, sure missed the sight of traffic stretching out for miles.

Got home, hugged and kissed family, had a shower and jetted outta the house with my mom’s words, “Oh u not gonna eat before u go out? Guess I half-expected…u know having been away from the country for 3 months and all that u’d want me to cook for u….”, trailing me as I hopped in the car. Drove like Bond in Quantum of Solace, avoiding a broken down truck here, nearly swiping an okada there, but still didn’t get me to my location on time ‘cos of crazy traffic.

Arrived at her door, poured a bottle of water over my head to milk the sympathy vote for driving to her crib in a car without a functioning air conditioner, popped a tictac in mouth and practised over and over my ‘Man, see what I do for u? I wanted to see u so bad I had left home b4 I realized the car’s a/c was kaput. Plus my mom probably hates my guts that I left without eating’ line in front of the compact mirror – hey, it’s my new lucky charm! - I carry in my back pocket while waiting on the latest contender to be Neo’s replacement to open the door and drown me in hugs and kisses.

She opened the door, I mouthed off the aforementioned line, held open my arms, closed eyes and puckered lips for a kiss. After ten seconds and not so much as a chuckle I opened one eyelid and then the other. Hands on her waist and a ‘I’da listened when my friends told me u were a waste of space’ look sculpted on her face, she mouthed, “You are late” and walked back in.

Woah, what had I done this time? Wasn’t it last week that I apologized for not being in Lagos to celebrate the 6-month anniversary of the day we met? Wait a minute, I am conceding too much ‘cos I like this chick. Who friggin’ celebrates anniversaries of the day one meets another person? I am good with numbers and remember somewhat inconsequential stuff but have a feeling I am gonna have to cop a separate diary to keep track of events she considers worthy of commemorating.

I ignore her dramatics, offer to take her to the movies and she obliges. On way to the movies we have another argument over my declining her request to see my wallet. She goes on and on about how she knows all about me and I know nada about her and starts to quiz me about things in her life. Uh oh, and I thought Neo was an overreacting drama queen. Man, this girl is Merryl Streep, Glenn Close and Helen Mirren all rolled into one. I didn’t respond to any of the questions, good thang too ‘cos I didn’t have a clue as to any of the answers. Ha huh ha huh ha huh

We caught Lakeview Terrace and had dinner afterwards. Yup, more arguments, this time she complained about how ‘secretive’ I am and wondered why she’d not read my journal. Lol…good thang she doesn’t know about this blog. Dropped her off at her crib and drove home thinking I wasn’t gonna see her again. Showered, caught a glimpse of my protruding paunch in the bathroom mirror and promised myself I’d go jogging in the morning… if. Then the text messages start rolling in from the Mount Vesuvius of drama queens. She apologized for her actions earlier in the day and said she wasn’t sure what came over her. U what? If that wasn’t bad enough she called in the wee hours of the morning asking me to whisper sweet nothings to her. I obliged, but don’t think my reeling off Milky Bar, Smarties and other confectionaries was what she was expecting. Ladies and gentlemen, I think I just met the anti-Cinderella. Somewhere in all of this there has to be a Gregory Maguire book.

Aiight peeps, time to go to bed and have more dreams. I promise not to stay away so long next time. Tot ziens and God bless.

Oh man, oh man, how could I forget this! Saw Miguel (aka Mugu Number One) in Lagos and teased dude about being in Lagos for over 3 months yet he’s still single. So so glad dude returned to Naija ‘cos this was same dude asking why I’m single what with all the girls he sees in Naija wedding pics.

Anyways we go for his mate’s birthday party and dude’s dancing normally all night. Just when we about to leave Ne-Yo’s Miss Independent comes on and Miguel rushes back to the dance floor mouthing the lyrics with his arms wrapped around a pillar. Don’t need to delve into my box of skills to know dude is DESPERATELY looking for a chick who “walk like a boss, talk like a boss” and most importantly doesn’t ask him to recharge her phone with airtime. Poor mugu.

Comments-[ comments.]