MAYONNAISSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Hola peeps.

 

Y’all good? I must be sticking to my 2025 pledge to blog every month ‘cos I am typing this in severe pain. I pulled something in my lower back during kickboxing class yesterday, which necessitated skipping calisthenics class afterwards for a massage from Aminarrrgh. It didn’t help much, though.

 

During the massage, well, more like during the hammam treatment that preceded the massage, it occurred to me that Aminarrrgh has likely seen my shlongmall more times than most of my exes combined. That’s what happens when one’s given a towel loosely bound around one’s waist. Might be time to invest in one of those disposable underwear sets that one gets at fancy spas during my next trip to the UK.

 

The good thang about Aminarrrgh is she’s professional, unlike the place I went to a fortnight ago where I rejected the offer to get, ahem, finished off. I was shocked, as it’d been a while since that sorta offer was put on the table. Geddit? Massage table? I had hoped whatever invisible sign inscribed on my forehead that appealed to such masseuses had been wiped off. O poor, naïve Tunde. Okay, back to the back pain…

 

Yes, where was I? You see, three guys I work out with on the weekends went to Thailand for a global Muay Thai tourney and came back with two championship belts. As I was on my way to the field when they returned to the country last Tuesday – I departed the field on Friday – I was so chuffed to see them that I didn’t stretch before the class, and I think that may have triggered the back pain. Then again, it might be my body’s sign telling me to ease off.

 

On Saturday the 15^th, I overdid things so much that during calisthenics and kickboxing class the next day, I was beat. Even my soon-to-be-patented Jonathan Majors pout that I go to when I wanna get in the zone and envision myself working out like in Creed 3 didn’t help. Later that day, while relating to a mate the reason for my tiredness, it occurred to me I do some form of exercise e-v-e-r-y day! Nah, nah, that’s unhealthy. I need a rest day where nada is done. Once my back is healed, I will stick to my rest day religiously, much like I do on my no-work Saturdays, which I have kept to this year so far. Sadly, ‘cos of the back pain, I spent the latter part of yesterday watching, nah, more like praying for sleep while watching the latest Captain America movie. It suckeeeeedddddd. Not a single redeeming feature. Harrison Ford musta been behind on multiple mortgage payments to agree to star in that movie.

 

Just got off the Facetime call with my daughter buzzing. Lately, our calls have become longer, and she’s no longer as eager to get off the phone as she used to be. On Friday, while talking to an ex who had reached out to see if I was safe following news reports of the recent skirmishes in South Sudan, I asked her to think back to her teenage years to what she loved to do with her dad, as I was looking to sustain the recent surge in my daughter’s interest in me. She suggested I find out what books she’s reading so I’d read them too and we’d talk about it, or her favourite TV show. So, I did that earlier tonight, and, what would you know, my daughter’s a big fan of the sapid series Elsbeth like I am! God is good. We chatted extensively about our favourite moments in the episodes we had seen. Can’t wait for our call next week.

 

By the time of our call next Sunday, I should be in Kampala, en route back from Lagos. Yup, I'm travelling again, this time for my sis Nike’s 50^th birthday. I wasn’t gonna travel initially ‘cos I’m a bit overstretched financially now, but I was guilted into it. While chatting with the West African single mom in London (WASMIL) I told y’all about, she complained about being stressed and needing a break, so I invited her to tag along. Surprisingly, she agreed to fly down from the UK for two nights in Lagos, so guess I’ll be taking her along to a family event. Good thang family knows me, so they won’t make a big deal of it. I hope she doesn’t either since we have already agreed to be strictly platonic. Besides, some mates from Juba, yup, females, are also making plans to attend. David was gonna come from Uganda if it weren’t for a conflicting schedule.

 

I felt somewhat embarrassed last month when WASMIL said she received flowers on the 14^th from a secret admirer and assumed it was from me. I sadly let her know I wasn’t responsible. It ain’t like I hadn’t thought of sending her flowers, but felt it was too close after our “talk” and didn’t wanna raise her hopes. And, no, the invitation to Nike’s 50^th wasn’t a way to assuage my guilt for Valentine’s Day. She was having a stressful time, and I thought a break, however short, would do her good. I am nice like that.

 

For primo chivalrous stuff, look no further than my crush Mrs. Bimbo Oloyede’s 71^st birthday earlier this month. I discovered that she would be in South Africa for her birthday, so I obtained the address of her accommodation from her daughter and sent her a rich, multilayered chocolate cake. You can bet whatever old geezer is trying to get her attention has no chance when compared to how far I am willing to go. Yup, Mr. Romantic Fashionista is taking no prisoners.

 

Speaking of, I've taken to rocking a pinky ring since I returned to the UK last month. For some reason, since last year, I have had this craving to add pinky rings to my eclectic fashion ensemble. I felt like a plain band and, at first, had the bright idea to resize my wedding ring since it ain’t like I’m ever gonna use it for another purpose, right? However, I had forgotten how blingy it was, and quickly realized any attempt to wear it in Juba would be advertising for my pinkie to get chopped off. Weirdly, while talking to an ex about it, she said she was surprised I still had my wedding band. Why? Was I supposed to toss it away after the end of my marriage like they do in the movies? It’s an expensive ring, dude; getting rid of it was never an option.

 

This time in the field – different from the other bottle-peeing field location I detailed in the last blog entry that had an ogbanje cock that used to crow consistently at 217am - with my staff was memorable ‘cos on the eve of my departure, a new staff from the local community decided to honour me with a goat. I kid – geddit? – you not. The gesture humbled me, and that’s what makes it uber frustrating when folk like J.S. tarnish the reputation of the country. Case in point, a Ugandan lady from the church fellowship has been jailed for nearly two months ‘cos they couldn’t locate her boss. What was her boss’s crime? He fired an employee for non-performance, and even though the Ministry of Labour calculated the employee’s gratuity at less than $4k, dude’s insisting on being paid $26k. Thus, the poor foreigner has been banged up ‘cos her boss is rightfully staying away from the country to avoid being arrested. Kinda reminds me of what’s going on in the US now. It’s so hilarious that naturalized Americans that I talk to are scared to mention Trump’s name during our calls. One typically gets “the guy who just came in” or some similar sobriquet, uttered sotto voce. Hilarious. I won’t lie; the general uncertainty has prompted me to reconsider my usual trips to the States. I always wanted to explore other places like Asia, so might be time to concretize those plans.

 

The main barrier to such travel plans is the visa application process. A mate’s planned his 50^th birthday celebration in August for Thailand, and if it didn’t crash with mom’s 80^th I’da jumped at the chance. However, the visa application process ain’t smooth, considering that there’s no embassy in South Sudan. The last time I travelled to nearby Indonesia in 2019, I was forced to return to Nigeria to apply, and the process took nearly a month, despite being a business trip. If that’s not bad enough, my cousin’s celebrating his 50^th birthday in Tunisia in October, and I still don’t know how I’m getting there, as one cannot apply online and I haven’t been able to locate a Tunisian embassy in the East African region. Wait, when did it become de rigueur for Nigerians to start having destination birthdays? Mate who’s hosting his 50^th in Thailand? Lives in the US. Cousin who’s doing the Tunisian thang? Lives in the UK. Am I supposed to allocate money from my budget for peeps’ birthday fantasies? Ridiculous.

 

Perhaps it’s best that I avoid those destination parties, as it seems that being in a strange location causes me to wake up multiple times to use the bathroom. It happened again during the last field visit. This time, though, it was accompanied by strange dreams. I can’t recall the dream on the penultimate night, maybe ‘cos of the sumptuous goat meat, but on the first night, I woke up to the theme song from Bertha playing in my head. The next night, I was the subject of a comedy roast hosted by Kevin Hart, Stephen A. Smith, and Jennifer Tilly. I am set to return to the field a few days after I get back from Nigeria. Can’t wait to see if I feature in Jennifer Hudson’s spirit tunnel with my Jonathan Majors pout.

 

Tot ziens and God bless.