Entry #20 – So contagious

First of all I’m not talking about a common cold. But what could possibly be more contagious than a common cold? I’ve done a little experiment in my office and you I can safely conclude that ‘Yawning’ is the most contagious thing – so contagious that the mere writing of the word has already started sending signals to your brain about half-closing your eyes and opening your mouth like a roaring lion. Yes, we can’t help it and I don’t know what good yawning does. I’ve yawned twice just writing this. As soon as I yawn while talking to someone, within seconds that person is subconciously doing the same – weird huh? Try it today and see what happens 😀

Entry #19 – Special treatment

I went to a wedding in another state in Nigeria – Oyo state. It was supposed to be a 3 hr drive from Lagos but ended up being 4hrs with all potholes we had to dodge. The wedding was quite grand and I was served the best dishes, wine and got exceptional service…or at least I thought so. I looked to the table beside me and they were getting everything I didnt – they got big succulent fish…I got small pieces of tough beef, they got alcohol wine from South Africa…I got grape juic in a wine bottle both made in Nigeria, they got chilled soft drinks, but though I was served mine first, they were warm – obviously their’s was stored close to ice.

I didn’t want this experience to spoil my road trip but I must admit it hurt a bit. As if to compensate me and those at my table, we all got gift items/souvenirs of the wedding to take home – a dish and a couple-name engraved tea mug all in a recyclable nylon bag(not bad eh?). On leaving the shindig, getting into my car, I noticed a gentleman no more well-dressed than myself but carrying a luxurious branded shopping bag of premium goodies. Life is not fair at all…

But on the upside, My blog will soon have more than 1000 views, yay!!!

Entry #17 – Sweet temptations

Ok, as some of my loyal readers would know (currently 10) I am an Anglican Christian acknowledging Lent, and my intention is to abstain from certain temptations in life. The idea is to meditate on God’s word and focus energy on growing spiritually whilst taking my eyes off that which builds a cavity in the soul.

Well I’m going to have to settle for having a cavity in my teeth because some temptations are just too damn good to resist. I mean, would you pass this up without so much as drooling on your keyboard? :

 

'aaaaahgrrrrrr...do...nuts'

'aaaaahgrrrrrr...do...nuts'

Source: www.djtammy.com

Entry #12 – The Good, the Bad and the Old

When I think about growing old a number of thoughts spring to my mind: Grey hair, Arthritis, Denches, walking stick, strollers, flat flexi-shoes, copious amounts of medication/suppliments, thick-lensed eye glasses, frail fingers, sagging ear lobes, wrinkles, slow-motion body movement, talking gibberish, forgetfulness, old people’s home, intensified OCD, grumpiness,  long naps, chicken soup, tomato soup, brocolli soup, cauliflower soup…well if you haven’t got teeth at 80 and you don’t want to get food stuck in your denches then soup’s what you’ll probably lean to reluctantly…it’s a scary thought.

It doesn’t mean I want to die young and still have a fine looking corpse. I want to have children, I want to watch them grow, I want to guide my children through life and ensure they grab opportunities I missed in my youth, I want to attend their weddings, I want them to have my grandchildren, I want my children to take care of me but not to point where I seem like an absolute burden, I want to have my whole family close by, I don’t want to be alone when I die…

..xTx..

Junior High – 3rd year

I was doing pretty well in school and after I made my transition from JSS2 to JSS3 I said goodbye to those dreaded grey hot pants I sported for 2years – I went all out on baggy ‘Bermuda’ shorts (roomy for the crotch and 2 inches below the knee, yeah baby!). I wasn’t part of the Stingray generation and I ‘misplaced’ my US army bag, although with hindsight I wish I had auctioned it today on eBAY… shame. I was carrying leather (and sometimes plastic) folders which seemed cooler (Cool guys didn’t walk around, like hunchbacks, carrying tons of textbooks). The only problem was that I risked getting punished for not bringing some of those humongous textbooks to class (so on those fateful days I’d wear my baggy shorts with some newspaper padding inside my boxers to reduce the ‘koboko’/cane impact) – the sacrifice of trying to be cool, eh?

Prices of snacks and drinks went up steadily but fortunately, so did my pocket money. I recall those trips to ‘Uncle Tony’s’ kiosk where he sold these dodgy-looking (but surprisingly tasty) hamburgers (mmmm…) and next door to him was the meatpie lady whose pies seemed to be getting smaller but more expensive each year. On days when I wanted to flex/pose/show off/act up/broadcast, I would mosey on down to ‘Mama Nike’ and get some deliciously marinated peppered chicken. The truth was you ended up enjoying the bone more because there was hardly any flesh on it in the first place, yet the cost of 1 piece of her chicken was equivalent to buying about 4 meatpies. So when you asked a girl to join you for lunch you always secretly hoped that she would not opt for the rip-off chicken – otherwise, no lunch for you that week (or you risked being known as a ‘Percher’: Someone who walks around during breaktime trying to get a cut out of people’s meatpies going, ‘Abeg, make I cut?’)

Physically I had changed tremendously. It was not just the bounce in my step (It took months to perfect this without making my butt stick out) but my voice was deeper, I was taller (for an average 13yr old of course), and I was growing unwanted hair in the strangest places…Anyway, that was the least of my problems. I was more concerned about the sour relationship that I had trapped myself in – not with any girl in my school…with my pimples.

Anytime I had started making some progress whilst ‘toasting’/chatting up a fine girl, days later a bloody ripe pimple would spring up on my face and steal the spot-light (no pun intended). If that wasn’t bad enough my pimples, unlike other boys’ pimples, would appear on ridiculously annoying areas – I’ve had one on the centre of my chin, the centre of my forehead (no offence to Indians), by either side of my lips (I said ‘side’ not ‘on’!), etc. The worst-placed pimple was the stubborn one I had bang-in-the-middle of my already broad flat nose – It was like looking at a ripe cherry on a dark chocolate ice-cream sundae…without being the least bit appetizing.

One of my many battles in school was therefore to find an immediate cure for these grotesque skin protrusions. I tried everything: toothpaste, squeezing, pricking, but what worked best for me was Mentholatum/any medicated balm the night before. You’ll know it has worked when the girl you’re chatting with tells you (after staring at your nose throughout your conversation) that you need to wipe ‘something’ off your nose – see! My pimple was working against me as usual.

Other battles I encountered were the Popularity contests. It seemed a big deal to get your name into the school magazine or the yearbook with some cool accolade; ‘Cutest junior boy’ (I wish), Best dressed junior boy (not being sore but I was robbed), etc. I was just known amongst my JSS3 set as the one who talked to the most girls, including girls in the set above me (SS1), thanks to my cousin in that set. I had ‘Haters’ in my set who couldn’t understand how I would sometimes be invited to parties hosted by SS1. Those Haters must have hated me even more when my cousin and I partook in one of the school’s variety shows and danced our way to fame as The Hype Boys (my ‘school fathers’/choreographers/mentors were the Too Hype Boys for obvious reasons). I became a (little) celebrity overnight and it boosted my rep just a little bit 😀

Only one thing stood between me and Senior status – my JSCE exam. To me that meant either repeat wearing Shorts another year or proudly walk in Trousers. .The pressure was now on!

 

..xTx..

Entry #11 – Why the wedding ring is worn on the fourth finger?

A friend of mine sent me this and I thought it was worth sharing. I know you’ll enjoy this as much as I did ;D :

Why should the wedding ring be worn on the fourth finger? There is a beautiful and convincing explanation given by the Chinese….. Thumb represents your Parents

Second (Index) finger represents your Siblings

Middle finger represents your-Self

Fourth (Ring) finger represents your Life Partner

& the Last (Little) finger represents your children

Firstly, open your palms (face to face), bend the middle fingers and hold them together – back to back

Secondly, open and hold the remaining three fingers and the thumb – tip to tip

(As shown in the figure below):

 

 

wedding

Now, try to separate your thumbs (representing the parents)…, they will open, because your parents are not destined to live with you lifelong, and have to leave you sooner or later.

Please join your thumbs as before and separate your Index fingers (representing siblings)…., they will also open, because your brothers and sisters will have their own families and will have to lead their own separate lives.  

Now join the Index fingers and separate your Little fingers (representing your children)…., they will open too, because the children also will get married and settle down on their own some day.

Finally, join your Little fingers, and try to separate your Ring fingers (representing your spouse).

You will be surprised to see that you just CANNOT….., because Husband & Wife have to remain together all their lives – through thick and thin!!  

  Please try this out………….

ISN’T THIS A LOVELY THEORY?

 

 

Entry #10 – Unfaithful

I have to come clean on this because it’s been eating me deep inside. I used to have an affair with Facebook. It was fun at first – the pics, the applications, the groups, and of course friends from my teenage years. But recently I’ve been seeing WordPress.com. She seems to understand me better. She gives me everything I need (widgets, stats, HTML shortcuts) to make me happy. I’ve introduced some of my friends to her and they like the effect she’s had on me. Sometimes when I’m busy at work she gathers up all the statistical data I need to analyze my blog performance. I hope Facebook can understand. It’s nothing personal but I can’t change how I feel. We can still be friends and I’ll visit once in a while…but I’m with WordPress.com now – no hard feelings FB J   

Entry #9 – ‘Knock his lights out!’

The electricity supply in the country has been abysmal. Some areas have had only 4 -12hrs of power supply per day while some have even less or none at all. Lagos has become a noisy commercial zone with all the domestic and industrial generators blaring away. There are reports of some companies even moving their operations to neighbouring countries in order to enjoy constant power supply and save on their diesel costs – It has come to that. I can’t afford to run a generator all night while I sleep so I toss and turn most nights and many times I’ve considered sleeping in my air-conditioned car. Boy, am I pissed with the spate of things…

 

It’s therefore no surprise that I put a sheepish grin across my face when I read today’s news headline in The Punch – ‘Yar’Adua (my president) sacks PHCN MD over poor power supply’. IT’S ABOUT F@?#ING TIME!!!!

Junior High – 2nd year…

I.S.I (International School, Ibadan) was where I first learnt how someone could be under constant pressure…just about every single day of his/her secondary school life. And I’m not talking about pressure to excel above the pass mark (which, then, was about 40% in all subjects)…no, I’m talking about the pressure to be cool, ‘bam’, ‘hard’…if you were linked to any of these accolades back in the day then your ‘rep’ was off to a good start…supposedly.

 

Now the problem I had was that I didn’t fit the bill particularly. I had a small tennis-ball afro which wasn’t cool enough, overly smart shoes which weren’t ‘bam’ enough, and a group of friends I rolled with who were not ‘hard’ enough. As a ‘day’ student (i.e. a student who doesn’t reside in the school’s hostels during the term) I was already screwed because the ‘boarders’ (those students who do reside in the school’s hostels…) were automatically catapulted into ‘hard’ status. I don’t think I’ll ever know why.

 

Maybe it was because you’d see one guy wear a different pair of ‘pumps’, moccasins and Tims for 2 straight weeks – I was baffled! How could one kid have close to 14 pairs of shoes? But I soon learnt that boarders had a sharing culture – they exchanged just about everything. So of course you could seem to have so many clothes, shoes, schoolbags…oh my God…I just remember I had a hideous schoolbag.

 

It was called a ‘U.S army bag’ – Trust me, it didn’t look as cool as it sounded. It was the size and shape of a 14-inch box TV – perfect for those tons of textbooks which I carried but would hardly have to read. Mine was black with all the different colorful badge prints and miniature flag images. It even had an ID number, yet I didn’t feel anything close to being a boy scout. Instead, as I walked around the school grounds with the crushing weight of my backpack I felt like Quasimodo – the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

 

My cousin (the eldest of the three, who was in JSS3 at the time) used to make fun of me – at home and at school. We didn’t quite get on initially but during my stay at his mum’s place I started trying to emulate his style as much as I could. He was like the big brother I never had. He would help guide me through this transition from Pee Wee Herman to ‘Cool’, from Inspector Clousseau to ‘Bam’, and from N-Sync to ‘Hard’. First stop – the barbershop.

 

My cuz and I went to the local barbershop and said hello to the natives. I was corrected abruptly. Hello = Not cool. Hi = cool. What’s up = cool. How far! = Razz but way better than Hello. Anyway, I got into my chair and looked up at the charts to see what was on the menu. Skinned (Oh, HELL no!), Bobby Brown slant (not brave enough), The Punk (hmm, now there’s an idea!) It was a kind of square-cut with a puffed top (View pic: Kadeem Hardison a.k.a \’Dwayne Wayne\’ in teen comedy, \’A Different World\’ ). It was one of those I-love-my-mama-but-she-don’t-tell-ME-what-to-do haircuts. It commanded respect. I loved it. I got my first pair of Reebok pumps too. I even started wearing cologne (with a cologne-drenched handkerchief in my top pocket just for good measure).

 

I was ready to re-enter I.S.I with new a found sense of courage. At break time it was ‘cool’ to be seen having lunch with a (pretty) girl. After managing to save up a decent amount of pocket money I asked a girl to lunch, she agreed, and we took a pleasant stroll to the kiosks to get our soft-drinks and snacks. As I sat on a ledge with her I was excited because I could feel eyes on me…not hers, my peers. They were filled with awe and probably a little jealousy. I savoured this moment. But mid-way through my conversation I felt like either I had coughed up a fur ball or Barry White’s ghost was trying to use me as a medium to convey a message. Perfect! Just as I was trying to break my way into the ‘In-crowd’ my voice decided to break its way into Puberty.    

 

..xTx..

Entry #8 – Monday Moan

I hate road traffic on Monday mornings, I hate Sunday evenings because I’m thinking about Monday, I hate Monday Meetings, I think Monday used to be called Moanday or perhaps even Mournday, I hate Monday because I carry over things from last Monday, I hate that after Church on Sunday the first sin I commit is usually on, wait for it, MONDAY!!! I hate that I can never choose to fall sick on a Monday. I don’t want my birthday to ever fall on a Monday. I do not plan to marry on Monday, yes i think it’s safe to say that I HATE MONDAYS!!!!!

Now where did I put my Monday medication… 😮