Druzhba druzhba no sluzhba sluzhba

Hola peeps. Si solamente podría ser donde quiero estar…..

Currently in Warri wrapping up a course. Man, after the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico the bossman has decided to take advantage of the predicament by getting us ‘elite’ dancers training in animal rescue. I think he envisions us rescuing marine life from the oil polluted waters of the Niger Delta, and when the TV crews appear we find an excuse to take off our shirts and start dancing all soaked in oil like those boy band videos where folk seem to magically find themselves dancing in the rain with the wind blowing their shirts open. No gainsaying he was influenced by those old Diet Coke commercial with the Etta James soundtrack. Yup, that’s who I gotta work with for the rest of the year, good ol’ Mr. Unoriginal.

The course wasn’t all that bad and ‘cos we had an exam yesterday morning I got to catch up on zzzzz for most of the afternoon and worked out in the evening. Can’t remember the last time I really strained myself like that but it was worth it. Can already feel outline of six-pack developing. Gimme a few more weeks like this and Ab Fab Tunde will be back in full effect. Then I might take a leaf outta Mr. Unoriginal’s book and spill a drink on shirt wherever I go. Hee hee. Also decided to go jogging with workout mate about 6am this morning and dude wanted us to “take things easy” so as not to overstrain muscles. “Take it easy? Yeah right. I am Ab Fab Tunde for goodness sake! The word ‘easy’ ain’t in my vocabulary darn it.” While I started jogging the dude maintained he was gonna take a power walk instead.
Pardon moi? A friggin’ power walk? This ain’t the friggin’ Olympics, is it? Power walk indeed. That’s for wusses. I don’t even get why they attribute the word “power” to such lame efforts. Instead of accepting that they too lazy to go running or jogging they use the term “power walk”; u too lazy to stay awake at work u sneak off to a corner to have a “power nap”; u too wimpy to drive a real man’s car u cop one equipped with “power steering”……I’d go on and on.

“Power walk indeed”, I jeered at him. “U know what would be ace? A competition on ESPN where people could take, wait for it, power doodles! Think about it since we have Poker and the Spelling Bee and Fly-fishing and other crap competitions on ESPN why not have one where peeps get to ‘laxatize’ – that’s my word by the way – themselves and then we watch how many power dumps they can take within a specified time period. Wanna tell me u wouldn’t watch that show? Man, that’s a money making venture I tell ya, I’d be writing these ideas down. Well, since u going on ur power walk maybe u’d power walk ur way to ur room and power write my idea on a sheet of paper. I promise to power share my proceeds with u. Ha.”

And so I went on my merry way while mate shook his head in amazement. Four laps later I was outta breath and wished I had listened to mate about not going all out after not having vigorously exercised in a long while. While embarking on the fifth lap I felt doodle pangs but ignored them ‘cos like I mentioned in last blog entry I’d gotten used to holding doodle in as some form of twisted self entertainment. No sooner had I thought to myself, ”Hmmm, maybe a better idea for that ESPN show would be to see which of the laxatized folk could hold doodle in the longest”, when doodle pangs became worse. The pangs were concentrated on the bottom left side of my stomach. Uh oh that’s the splatter doodle section!

I made a quick turn and headed straight for my chalet. Was running like I stole something and an angry mob was after me. When it seemed the doodle would drop any minute I slowed down and attempted to do a horse trot thang in the hope it would force the doodle back up the anal cavity. Didn’t work one bit. Knew it was just a matter of time b4 doodle would come rushing out like a chariot and splatter across underwear and jogging shorts so I prayed to God to make sure no one would be around to witness my shame. Splatter doodle did arrive as expected exactly 24.4 secs before I got to entrance to the chalet. Cupped left hand over shorts to prevent any doodle from splattering on the floor while I fumbled with keys in a vain attempt to open chalet door as quietly as possible so as not to alert anyone about u know what. Finally forced door open, rushed into bathroom and pulled down shorts. Doodle splattered everywhere, and by everywhere I mean E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E: the floor, the loo cover, the walls, the sides of the wash hand basin. If I wasn’t there to witness it I would not have believed it was possible. It was like one of those awful pieces that would cost a bucket load if it was exhibited in the Museum of Modern Art or some other pretentious gallery.

Washed out stained clothes and spent another half hour cleaning up the bathroom so the cleaning lady wouldn’t gimme funny looks and start peddling rumours that I can’t control my bowels. Now that I think of it, why am I revealing all these to y’all?! Guess it’s better this than which members of my family I like best. After last blog entry I’d not help but ponder that, especially the bond/love between a parent and a child and at what point a parent decides to give up on a child. Was in church last week when they showed a recording of a lady members of the church had encouraged to come out of the drug den she was residing at, and rehabilitated her. When she went back home her dad confessed he had given up all hope on her ‘cos her drug dependency had brought continued disgrace to the family. I couldn’t help but feel for the dude. Kinda like the father of the prodigal son in the Bible or how God always finds the grace to forgive us no matter how many times we screw up. Seems there’s something about birthing a child from ur loins that keeps tugging at ur heart saying, “Give them another chance.”

Bringing that home to my immediate family I can’t help but give Chief props for the stuff he goes thru on our behalf sometimes. I know dads who wash their hands off the children once they done educating them, but not Chief. Of course it can get a bit grating at times when he continuously pesters u about marriage, or strikes up in-depth conversations with ur date - So what degree did u come out with? And ur genotype again is? - hoping that’d make the chick feel like ‘family’ and thus pressure her into asking u when y’all are gonna get married. (Nice one Chief, but Ab Fab Tunde don’t go down that easily simply. Did I ever tell u the word ‘pressure’ ain’t in my vocabulary?) But we all know he means well.

Sorry to get all soppy on y’all, but during 3 week stay in Lagos I bonded with nephews and nieces a lot – oh yeah Tayo and Keji had a son earlier in the week so for those of y’all who have lost count that makes it 11 nephews and 2 nieces and counting – and couldn’t get enough of them. I think I’ve passed the stage from uncle who wants to joke around with them and stuff them with ice cream and candy to uncle who cares deeply about them that he ensures he always includes a book in their presents and wouldn’t mind changing their diapers (if there was no one else around). Was kinda disappointed when I came back home one evening and discovered Seyi’s son Nitor had returned to his home ‘cos there’s no one bugging me to kick around a soccer with him; with Kemi’s twins I am always prepared to be chased around the place; with Tayo’s kids I know I am gonna be interrogated about my decision to wear a stud in my ear and what year I am getting hitched; with Kinzo’s son Kanye (aka Koyinsola) I know I am gonna have to sneak out of his crib when he ain’t looking so he doesn’t cry. Each one brings something special to the table and…..wait, I NEED to tell y’all about Kanye’s hot nanny! Trust me if good nannies weren’t so difficult to find in Lagos I am sure Kinzo’s wife woulda found an excuse to let go off her. I even think my bro Loye fancies her. Ha. To be honest sis-in-law seems to be oblivious about the nanny’s looks, but during one of my visits to their crib I overheard her mates titter and the following conversation ensured:

Married woman 1: Did u see the butt on the nanny? Take a quick look, she’s coming by again.
Married woman 2: Chai! I don’t care how good she is, ain’t no way she can work at my house. O ti o. Not with my randy husband around. The dude would find an excuse to drive home for lunch daily.
Married woman 1: Are u telling me?! And she’s light skinned too, so even more attractive. Chei, only God will save us from good looking helps.
Married woman 2: Amen o. Thank goodness we are still in the first half of the year.
Married woman 1: What do u mean?
Married woman 2: Me I tend to get the shivers once December comes around because I know I am gonna have to start sharing some of the chores with the help. That way I hope to cajole her into coming back to me after she’s goes to her people for the Xmas holidays.
Married woman 1: Yes o. I totally forgot about that. Last year I had to buy new clothes for my help and even gave her perfume, but she didn’t return.
Married woman 2: They know what they are doing. From what I hear they don’t wait ‘til the end of the year no more. My friend played a subtle trick on her help on April 1st. She told her the family had decided to relocate to the US and wanted to know if she’d like to move with them. Ha ha, of course the foolish girl said yes. My friend then told her to contact her people so she’d start processing a passport for her. It wasn’t ‘til the mumu girl had spent over N200 on airtime that my friend burst out laughing and told her it was an April Fool’s joke. The nanny quit and moved out of the house that day!

I couldn’t help but crack up. Yup, Lagos women now regard the domestic staff as competition. Hee hee.

Sorry where was I? Oh yes. One thing I fear about the next generation is they might end up being wusses. The other day I was at Tayo’s when his daughter Tishe said some boy in her class dissed her so she called him a “poo poo brain”. The purblind thing was oh so proud of herself for coming up with such a clever putdown that her mom and moi looked at each other and shook our heads. Poo poo brain? For real? Man, such a weak phrase would get one beaten up more in my day. Another time Tishe’s younger bro Timayo was being stubborn when his dad threatened to “take down one star” if he didn’t behave himself. Dude immediately calmed down. Turns out the school teacher had told the parents to give them a star – either u construct one from cardboard or just paint one on paper – whenever they do something right and take down a star when they behave wrong. At the end of the week one counts the stars and then gives them a reward like extra TV viewing hours, ice cream, etc., based on the number of stars they accumulate. U what? A friggin’ star? Oh man, if that was me as a kid and I knew I’d not get a flogging for my intransigence, just a star removed from the board, I’da continued what I was doing until I wore myself out.

To further reinforce my belief that Tishe and Timayo aren’t a one-off bro-in-law Elvis confirmed someone younger than Nitor once pushed his head against the wall and Nitor cried and ran into his mom’s arms instead of pushing back. Oh my. Last week I was visiting Kinzo and carrying Tommy (his latest son) when Tommy’s older bro Kanye came over and tried to get his fave uncle’s attention by slamming a baby rattle on Tommy’s done. Kinzo dragged him away and told him to face the wall. Immediately Kanye burst into tears until his nanny – did I mention she was smoking hot? – came by and took him to have his meal. Wait, all I gotta dude is face the wall? No spanking? I’da grown up in this generation. Yeah I’da ended up a wuss but at least my skin wouldn’t bear any tell tale signs of bruising. Seriously though how would these guys know what to do if they got into a fight? Thank goodness the days are long gone when families went to war over something silly like an insult or a water well, else the next generation of males would be toast. Even worse, since they are handsome who’s to say the conquering family/tribe mightn’t make them eunuchs? Ouch. Double ouch.

Chilling with the little ones kinda made me think about getting hitched myself so decided to get everything else in place so when my head eventually catches up with my erratic heart/emotions I would hit the ground running. By ‘everything else’ I mean a crib of my own. Since it would be a loser’s game to pay rent in Warri and Lagos I decided to shop for a crib in Lagos. So contacted a few mortgage companies and still trying to work out how best to raise funds. Also got in touch with a few realtors and the experience left me convinced there’s a special spot in hell reserved for used car salesmen and realtors. Can someone please tell me how the rest of the Lagos metropolis is “10 mins from Victoria Island”? When one enquires further they’ll offer the “what we meant was our property is 10 mins from Victoria Island if there’s no traffic” excuse. I see, so u are saying I’d only leave my crib on Sundays, right? Even that’s a stretch! Except I am piloting a military jet ain’t no way I’d get from Victoria Island from Ajah in 10 mins. The punks!

Anyways I am not giving up on this whole house idea being a great one. Yup, even if I have to get a mortgage it’d be judicious use of my funds as opposed to what is currently happening with debtors giving me the runaround. Did I ever tell u I seem to have become the lender of first resort to so-called mates who never pay back? When I complained about this to another mate he nodded his head in agreement a few times, and before he left he asked for a loan. I kid you not. What the beep?!!! For goodness sake this ish has to stop! If I gotta take assertiveness classes to get my money back or learn to say no to people, then so be it.

Sometime back I got a call from some dude I had supervised on the R.I.G. Hadn’t seen or heard from him in ages so was kinda shocked he had my number. To cut a long story short he gave a sob story and I handed over some money. Less than two weeks after that a colleague of his whom I hadn’t been in contact with for a similar length of time gives me a bell. Talk about taking the piss. I’d understand if they asked for a loan and as at when due contacted me to explain the difficulties they encountered in not getting entire sum back to me. But what I have now is shifty ass punks who get a loan and then act as if they won the lottery. If u one of them and u reading this just wanna let u know I am trying to eat properly – just came up with a recipe for the world’s first diet donut – so when I work out it’s muscle mass I am building, and if u don’t pay up soon I am gonna start taking steroids as well. Oh man, u don’t wanna be owing me money when my neck disappears and I go from cute Ab Fab to Incredible Hulk Tunde. Don’t say u weren’t warned.

Tot ziens and God bless.