Who would want a third nipple anyways?
Hola peeps. ¿Quién dijo que la responsabilidad era una tan buena cosa?
I know I told y’all it’d be a while b4 I blogged again, but need a canvas on which to sort stuff in my head out, and since I’d not go jogging this morning – more on that later – y’all are gonna have to do. Besides if y’all are lucky this post will be really short as my crap Bachelor feeding lifestyle – today I had two granola bars for breakfast, drank garri with groundnut for brunch, cornflakes and ice cream for lunch, powdered milk for er, er ‘cos I was peckish, and suya for supper – is making me long for a home-cooked meal, and even though it’s almost midnight I am tempted to wake up my married friends to see if they have any leftover food in the fridge.
This wouldn’t have happened if I still had Hot Cleaning Lady’s (HCL) number – it was on phone that was in luggage that got nicked in Holland. Actually I am pretty sure I can trace all that currently ills me to missing luggage. Peep this: I woke mad ‘cos I couldn’t go jogging. Why? ‘Cos laundry guy said he couldn’t provide clothes as at when due ‘cos of spate of downpours during the week, and my spare set of shorts was in missing luggage. Instead had to work out in pair of jeans and wasn’t too comfortable ‘cos was forced to wear ‘emergency’ boxers ‘cos of what I mentioned earlier about laundry guy. In fact I’ve had to recycle same three pairs of boxers shorts in the past week ‘cos of what I mentioned earlier about laundry guy. Saddest thang is I have noticed tread marks on emergency boxers – white in colour – that has led me to believe I either have runs on days I wear white boxers and don’t clean my arse too well afterwards or my farts have a way of staining whatever they come in contact with and I’ve just noticed it ‘cos of white boxers shorts. Or maybe I seem to have spray farts on days I wear white boxers shorts. Hmmm, maybe there’s a correlation between colour of boxer shorts and what I choose to consume…..or maybe the reading is getting to me.
Yeah, was also mad at having to start exam revisions from scratch when I already had my version of Cliff Notes in missing luggage. Decided to take a break from studying and while flipping channels I came across a report of Yul Brynner on the History Channel. What struck me most was a tale by the director John Frankenheimer. He said once he and Yul were discussing about their past relationships and he offered that some people refuse to get involved in relationships for fear of being hurt; Yul responded, and I am paraphrasing here, “Love is the most wonderful thing in the world and being in love and getting hurt is like going to the world’s best restaurant and having the world’s best meal, and then complaining when the check comes. Getting hurt is the check.”
That line threw me for a loop. I guess it resonated ‘cos lately been thinking of the relationships I have been in and the pros and cons of each ex, and how I mighta done things differently and such, and I got miffed. Not at any ex in particular or myself, just at some of the relationships that I wish had ‘fully’ ended if u know what I mean. Case in point is ex in Spain who has been calling lately, telling me she misses me and other soppy stuff. This is someone who was in the UK at the same time as moi in April yet came up with some excuse or the other not to meet up, and as soon as I left for Holland she started calling asking if I’d be returning to the UK soon. Back in October 1996 when I moved to the UK the first letter I wrote her was about the intriguing Asian chicks I met at Bradford and particularly some stunner called Bamini. Now I agree that that wasn’t the nicest way to update one’s girlfriend back in Nigeria about the goings-on at Bradford, but I was young(ish)….and Bamini was so scorching hot. Now I never did step to Bamini – she had a boyfriend at the time and later went out with her even hotter friend; yet another relationship I felt never ‘fully’ ended – but still when I returned to Nigeria for a 2 week vacation months later all ex did was tease me about Bamini. It was after I returned to the UK she started calling trying to have a ‘serious’ conversation. That’s what gets me miffed, that she still acts the same way even after 12 years.
That’s why I badly needed to go jogging earlier today. Jogging solo helps clear my head and work out frustrations. ‘Cos I am trying to be more organized and channel thoughts in a proper manner instead of haphazardly like I normally do I actually wrote down things I was mad about that I’d deal with during jog. This morning was supposed to be first trial ‘cos normally my jogging sessions go a li’l something like:
I am mad at ex in Spain for telling me she misses me and hopes we can be together. I am mad at the recent spate of rain showers that’s forcing me to wash my boxers shorts over and over again. What am I paying the laundry guy for? Mad at the rain for falling as soon as I had waxed my car. Mad at decision to cop white boxers shorts in Holland…well, I was in a hurry so can’t be faulted for picking whatever I saw on the shelf………(Lap 1)
Mad at the Labour government for pissing off everyone. They came into power in the UK few months after I moved to Bradford and promised so much. Now they just as crap as the Tories. Politicians, eh. Let’s not get started at the jokers here. The other day Goodluck Jonathan was at the Abuja Car Show and lamented that a huge nation as ours has not manufactured a car, yet punk failed to mention he and his buddies have put no policies in place, much less infrastructure to actualize such a dream. Mad at Yar’Adua for being Yar’Adua. Mad that I still get involved in conversations with colleagues at the firm when the subject of how crap Nigeria is comes up. Mad that I still have as clients those whose husbands are responsible for the dire state of the nation. Mad that more than 4 years after return to Nigeria I still have loadsa questions and no solutions……(Lap 2)
Mad that my thought process still goes off on tangent as demonstrated by previous laps. I mean I started this jog ‘cos of calls from ex and yet here I am about to think of goodness knows what next. Must stay focused, must stay focused. Yes, I am mad at ex for, what was I mad at her for in the first place? Who cares? It’s not like we ever getting back together, it’s just that she’s one of my favourite exs and wait, so if one of my not-so-fav exs asks what I really think of her would I honestly tell her? Nah, don’t think so. Been there, got the scar on the head to show for it. Speaking of scars I wonder if I’d step to mate’s sister who has a thang for scars. She’s real hot and…nah, might complicate things. U know how relationships are. Man, what I really need is George Clooney’s lifestyle. All the women he dates know he ain’t gonna marry them but they still date him. I need to find out where he gets his dates from…….(Lap 3)
Tweet tweet tweet, wait, what was I thinking about b4? Yes, Clooney. What does he have that I don’t? Okay there’s the hair, but I am sure I can get a toupee. There’s the fame. Hmmmm, that has to be it. Sure he has the money and the hair, but it’s the fame that keeps those women flocking even if they know he’s never gonna marry them. Look at Hugh Hefner for goodness sake. I need to get me famous. Let’s see, let’s see…..only way to achieve fame seems like my illusive TV show. Man, that’s another thang. Mad at myself that after 3 years nada’s happened with tee shirts or TV show idea. Man, once exams are done next month might have to take time off work to concentrate on those ventures….(Lap 4)
Woah, getting real tired. Maybe I’d stop…nah, I gotta keep going on. I gotta make it to sixth lap. But I am bored, I am tired of seeing same scenery over and over again. Maybe I’d get me an iPod nano to accompany me while jogging. Maybe not. How else would I be able to clear my head? Speaking of which, what else am I mad about? Yeah, I am mad that I am the only one that seems to notice Warri girls’ penchant for yellow trousers. Friggin’ yellow trousers, who wears them? Warri girls do, but no one else seems to notice. Hey, maybe that’d be the title of my book: ‘Haley Joel Osment sees dead people, I see girls in yellow trousers’. Ha. Man, I kill myself. Hmmm, if only I can transfer that to a TV show. It’d be like a cross of The Chappelle Show and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Yeah, yeah. Thang is might have to change format to webisodes ‘cos none of those I met affiliated with TV stations don’t think our democracy is at a point where u can take the piss outta politicians and not get ur TV station’s activities overslaughed or downright shut down. Hmmm, maybe I’d concentrate on writing that book first. Speaking of books, finally read Chief’s autobiography. Impressed with the man. Dude was crazy transparent, wasn’t he? I hear the moms weren’t too happy with the level of transparency and I can see where they are coming from, but hey, it’s his life. Funniest story relating to the book is regarding 7-year old niece who read the book and ran up to her mom screaming, “I didn’t know granddad has 3 wives!” Lol……(Lap 5)
Man, so tired, wanna stop. Nah, must keep going. Must think of the garri and cold water waiting at the end of this lap. Man, really need to get me a cook. Garri, garri garri…cold water, cold water, cold water…groundnut, groundnuts, groundnuts….Ha. Amazing what keeps me going, huh? Man, need to shave head after this. Think I am gonna leave beard unshaved ‘til after exams. Yeah, yeah. Man, can’t wait to get done with exams so I can take a week off in Lagos. I’d better treasure these visits ‘cos they becoming few and far between. It’ll be ace to see family gathered again for Ayo’s wedding – where I am the best man - in August. Yeah, dude’s stuck with August but as his bride-to-be is Muslim, and there’s a Muslim fast in August, they’d to move the wedding backward by a week. Man, wouldn’t that be funny? Peeps fasting and being forced to participate in a wedding? ‘Now we have the groom about to feed the bride…oh no, the bride has refused to open her mouth…oops, she’s fasting, that’s right.’ Ha. Man, I kill myself. Was real ace seeing entire family for Chief’s 70th birthday party. Day after the party I took nephews and nieces out to catch the movie BOLT. Man, it was so much fun…well, who am I kidding? Let’s just say it was fun spoiling them but I was drained. I need to rent that movie ‘cos I still can’t tell what happened ‘cos whenever a good scene came on someone wanted to use the bathroom. That’ll teach me for buying kiddies a bottle of soda each. Man, still amazed how kids can cry on cue if u don’t give them what they want. I wonder if I was like that as a kid…nah, probably not…..garri, garri garri…cold water, cold water, cold water…groundnut, groundnuts, groundnuts…..yeah, apart from one nephew being scared of the clown at the fun fair and then peeing on himself, and another nephew pouring ice-cream on himself it was fun being Superuncle. Woah, almost done. Okay now time for the sprint to finish off this lap. Here goes….(Lap 6)
Now u understand why I am pissed I didn’t get to go jogging and try out new ‘organized’ thought process. Even worse, I still have these thoughts in my head and no way to jog them out (Geddit? JOG them out, like JOGGING one’s memory? Aw, forget yous.); and telling y’all about them didn’t help either. So thanks for nothing folks. At times like these I reward myself with some candy, but I am trying to cut down on those too. Yeah I know, who am I kidding, right? Off to drive in the rain to get me some.
Tot ziens (yes, it’s back) and God bless.
PS
Was just thinking that tale of missing luggage could provide inspiration for a less offensive, more populist TV show, possibly a sitcom, and hopefully when it’s real successful and in syndication in Holland the perpetrators that took my luggage would sue me for not crediting them with the idea. Then I’d finally have my Charles Bronson-like revenge. (*Cue evil genius laugh*) Ha huh ha huh huh ha ha huh.
PPS
Just thinking (yes, again) the TV sitcom idea isn’t a bad one, even have the theme music lined up.
THIS IS A STORY ALL ABOUT HOW MY LIFE GOT TWIST TURNED UPSIDE DOWN I'D LIKE TO TAKE A MINUTE JUST SIT RIGHT THERE I'LL TELL YOU HOW I BECAME THE PRINCE OF A
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