26 July 2009

Gossip Girl

Ok…first and foremost apologies for the title! This is in no way a critique, review or analysis of the series equally titled "Gossip Girl". Truth be told I've never watched an episode so not in a position of authority to do that and thus don't understand what the fuss is about, and quite frankly I prefer series that actually stimulate the brain marginally, not all the teeny-bopper Melrose Park and Beverly Hills 90102 remakes. (The originals were forgettable so why should the new ones be any more memorable?) Alrighty, I'm digressing majorly! Off the 'soap' train and into a brief explanation (oh alright my notes are rarely brief …so long ass explanation definitely makes more sense)

Many a budding (and even long term) relationships, reputations and lives have been crushed, vaporized, annihilated, obliterated even (I'm just trying to help you effectively visualize) by Gossip Girls (and Boys…the lads are no saints even with that line about discussing and not gossiping). Devilish folks garbed as angels bearing the sweetest of gifts…tatafo! Yes we all love gossip, oui even même se! I absolutely love being in the mix, being queen of the 411, having all the amebo, the 'ish' dish, the entire juicy scandalous, blush inducing details, so that I can smile snugly about what I know. However, even with my inherent love for gist I draw the line with confiding my knowledge. As I told someone once, I'm kinda like Central Bank and a broke guy; no matter how the broke ass nigga begs the bank ain't giving him sod all! So it is with my mouth and secrets. I think only once to my recall have I ever broken a confidence, and if I look at it critically I didn't really break it, as I wasn't told that I couldn't say anything about it, and it was kinda libelous so I had to ask the other person in question. Nevertheless, one-on-one, promise to carry to my grave amebo, I don't spill. If any of my friends ever run for elected position, I am skipping town, changing my name (and if I wasn't so vain…invest in cosmetic surgery and touch ze beautiful face). Sure…they're just joking about assassinating me because I know where the bodies are buried, but when push comes to shove, I…ja ein…I won't stick around long enough to find out whether that was a smile 'smile' or a big bad wolf smile (you know the one he gave granny before making her brunch)!

Once more, I digress; I tend to ramble even in my thoughts! Anyway back to the topic at hand, gossip and its impact on the lives of its targets. I'm no celebrity, not won any Oscars and generally mind my own B. I., but people tend to have more interest in my life than I do. Maybe minding one's own business is a bad thing. When you reveal nothing of consequence, people invariably start formulating and postulating theories regarding your existence and being. Everything becomes gist worthy. I don't really mind so much although it ticks me off no end when they preach their beliefs as the gospel truth, and poor suckers fall for it hook, line and sinker. Now if I a mere mortal fall victim to scandal, how much more those who actually live in the public eye and like rabbits in the headlights are blinded by media flashbulbs and live the Superstar life. The life we all secretly long for, but still derive great pleasure from watching them fall flat on their faces and having them dissected and put through thorough analysis under a high powered microscope.

Gossip is a sin, plain and simple! No blurred lines, no shades of grey. Gossip is a form of sanctimony, where we sit in judgment of others. When really have you ever gossiped without having a little prick of self-righteousness, a small feeling of "I'm better than them" as you share your fresh off the presses red-hot news? Midnight Star sang a song back in the day all about the gist factory called Headlines if memory serves me right. Now you might say it's pretty harmless, that no malice exists in your transmission of gist, or that the facts that you are sharing are accurate so in no ways libelous nor slanderous! Granted, but how many times have you heard a story you saw the genesis of, and wondered whether the gist is really about what you know? Doesn't the story always seem to get garbled, embellished and revised in its telling? It never comes back the way it went out.

An Example: Kate went to a party (sans beau) with her girlfriends on the typical ladies' night soiree, and was dancing with a guy (Peter) she'd known for practically her whole life. Now as we know dancing nowadays tends to be akin to sex on the dance floor, so lots of body thrusting, invasion of personal space and legs around hips. One of her boyfriend's friends (let's call him Jeff) happened to be present at the party and saw Kate getting her 'groove on' on the floor totally unaware of baby girl's relationship with her dance partner. Jeff kept out of Kate's way and monitored her activities at the party. The party draws to an end and peter seeing as he lives 15mins away from Kate volunteers to drop her at home. Jeff sees Kate get into Peter's car and watches them drive off. The next day Jeff gets to Sam's house (also a friend of Kate's boyfriend, Phillip) and tell him of his encounter with Kate and how she was half naked, lip locking some dude on the dance floor, and how they got so carried away they couldn't wait for the party to end before jetting off in the guy's car surely to have sex. Sam filled with righteous indignation (he caught his girlfriend in bed with the driver) feels duty-bound to tell his paddy man Phillip and spare him the pain if catching her red handed. Sam renders the same story he heard from Jeff, however in his telling from the dance floor they graduated to Kate gyrating on the said dude's lap before heading to the car for a make out session, and Kate giving the guy a BJ in the backseat of his Jeep! Now Phillip loves Kate, and trusts her without reserve and brushes aside the story as just that, but the seed of doubt has been sown. From then he finds himself questioning her about her movements, when she talks a tad too long on the phone he started to wonder if it was another man. Gradually doubt eroded the once harmonious existence they shared, and within six months, the loving couple had gone their separate ways.

Many a reputation have been destroyed by well-aimed WMD. Allegations of impropriety, theft, sexual misconduct etc have marred careers or sown doubt into the minds of colleagues and turned people into water cooler grapevine matter and personal reputation has likewise been dented by gossip and insinuations. How many times did you hear stories spread about girls in school just because they were friendlier with the boys than the girls? Virgins were called sluts simply because it is deemed impossible for a guy and girl to be "just" friends (the issue of just friends is another matter for discourse). As the saying goes "Loose lips have sunk many a ship". My take on such issues has always been if I didn't see it with my own eyes I ain't buying it (pictures don't cut it either…did I hear someone say Photoshop?) especially seeing I've had my share of soft sell magazine style reportage done!

Now, even if you did see something suspect, is it your duty to divulge the information? When I was younger and knew no better I always thought it was my duty to guard my friends' interests and tell all I knew. However, with age (and hopefully more wisdom) I have come to realize that the three monkeys (hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil) were exceptionally wise, and in telling, many a time you become the grand villain, especially if (or more likely when) the couple "kiss-and-make up", you the one-time Good Samaritan become fodder for the after sex bedroom (or kitchen floor) snuggle fests gist sessions. So…where exactly does one draw the line between doing the needful and being a tatafo? The thing is when the truth outs and the 'victim' in question learns that you were in the 'know' you become for all intents and purposes persona non gratia! Maybe it's really a case of damned if you do, damned if you don't, so you might as well be damned!

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17 July 2009

Delayed Devotion

Even the most cynical of us would like to believe that maybe we're wrong and true love exists. We want to believe that some times the fabled...happy ever after can happen! However...for the realists among us, we know that the probability of winning the £42 million Lotto or finding El Dorado is greater than that of finding true love. Thus we make do with finding something like love, any love (true or not)!
That said, once found, love rarely lives up to its much touted hype (although I'd love to meet the guy who writes LOVE's PR). It causes psychotic delusions, mental discord and a host of other health problems. The expected camaraderie nonexistent, the anticipated spiritual oneness a ruse, and after awhile its only redeeming virtue...sex...starts to suck, and eventually dries up much like the Nile during a drought! However, we keep trying, whether in this relationship or the next one.
In the course of the love match, complacency sets in! We tend to take those closest to us for granted the most. Our efforts are concentrated on satisfying others outside the union, maybe because we believe that our partner'll understand. After all you're theirs so why should they be antsy and pissed when you're not always emotionally there? You've told them you love them, and that should be enough! Shouldn't it?
Unfortunately it isn't! Sure you said I love you, sure you're faithful, but saying I Love You and showing I Love You are two totally different things. As the saying goes 'actions speak loudest'. When you talk the talk but don't walk the accompanying walk, problems are bound to arise. As human beings, we constantly seek validation (and yes confirmation) from those we admire and love. We thrive on their approval and admiration. Whether we like it or not, or even admit it to ourselves...this is the simple truth.
The title of this piece is courtesy Duffy and her song Delayed Devotion in which she blasts the former love of her life for his nonchalant, lackluster attitude during their affair, and scorns his attempts for reconciliation now that he has woken up from his relationship slumber to realise she's left him for good. His declaration of devotion, alas, came much too late and love had turned to hatred. It would be nice if she stopped there, but our girl gathers steam and in a Lily Allenesque volley of words promises him such torture that by the time she's through with him he'll need to pack up shop and find another town where someone might talk to him! Bitterness at its best! For some unfathomable reason, relationships have a way of bringing out the worst in folk, especially when it doesn't live up to expectation, which is more often than not, but poor deluded love starved fools that we are, we keep trying!
Procrastination, putting off what could be done today til another day, has been the Achille's heel of a lot of relationships. Devotion delayed is as good as no devotion at all. As Tracy Chapman declared in her song 'If Not Now...' a love delayed for the days to come is as good as none. Don't put off giving love when you can and should, and really pay attention to your partners needs and really listen to (not just hear) what they're saying.
Frequently people wake up one fine morning to find 'outta the blue' that they're alone. It's never outta the blue, there is always a warning signal, always a sign, but alas...we're usually too busy with outside stuff that we never put enough effort into the inside stuff.
Pay heed, else you might find yourself listening to Ray Parker Jnr singing 'i tried to warn you...a woman needs love just like you do' in your ear, cos she's gone!
(Originally Posted: 7 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Not Really Poetry

Whispered words, stolen glances, forbidden thoughts, reason nought but endless white noise.
Thoughts left not spoken, tension built, passions aroused, chance encounters designed by choice.
Attraction heightened,
belt buckle, zip, hook, pantyhose down, lips
entwined, parted thighs, all reason confined, wrongdoing denied.
Downcast eyes, regretful sighs.
Dejection, rejection, leading to eventual despise.
(Originally posted: 13 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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The Other Woman

"Imma tear her eyes out...oh that man grabbing bitch", "Imma beat her down and give her an ass whopping she won't forget no time soon"
I'm sure a lot of us women have made those statements (or something close at least...even if it's just in our heads) about the interloper, the intruder who's had the effront to step to our man and pee on our patch of lawn without as much as a by your leave. We've all rained abuse, drawn rain and invoked fire and damnation on the souls of poor misguided trespassers, even if eventually we apply maturity and handle the real culprit...our men!
However this isn't about the other woman who peed on your patch, this is about when you unwittingly (or deliberately) find yourself wearing the costume of the other woman. I've had this experience a couple of times: once I dated a guy for about 4 months, even spent weekends at his house, all things nice, until one weekend I arrive and see pictures that I'd never seen before, wedding pictures!!! The guy'd been married for about a year plus and his wife was in jand to deliver and was due back on Monday. Well to say I was gobsmacked is putting it lightly. The second time I dated this guy for a couple of months but we never ever seemed to get to his house. Warning bells should've gone off immediately but I was like well by the time we close from work it's kinda late...and if he had a girl he'd tell me. Well he had not just a girl, but a fiancee and they were living together, needless to say that affair died a tragic and very sudden death. The third and I believe (and solemnly hope) last time I got to reprise the role of the other woman was in my very own relationship. I wasn't the intruder here, it was my relationship, groomed, nurtured and invested in religiously over the years, five to be exact. I'd been there when he was down and out. When he'd been out of work I'd contributed my widow's mite, even slept with him on the floor when things got so bad that he had to pack back in with his folks. I did the time. Sure we quarrelled...I mean what couple doesn't occasionally? But I really thought we were good, his family liked me, his sisters are still my peeps (even went out with one of them two weeks ago) and everybody knew us as a couple. He finally got a new job, and the pay was far out! And then he changed, someone I saw on the daily during his time off, now started givin me the "babes...I'll get back to you" speech. He started throwing tizzy fits at the slightest provocation. Looking for fights which I refused to give him. I knew something funny was going on, but I was like...chill...we've been through this before, and we worked it! The next thing I knew my coz brought over an invite for a traditional wedding, my beau and some chick he'd known all of three months! To add insult to injury the chick decided to disrespect me by calling my ass 24/7 with leave my man alone calls. I think I handled the matter quite maturely, I didn't retaliate, I didn't make any noise, I just shed the requisite tears and life went on. I don't know how to keep grudges (well...not really) and believe that all relationships serve as a school to teach you wisdom and prepare you for your eventual life partner, so after enough time and water had passed under the bridge, we became friends again, and started talking again but strictly above board. Then madam started hunting me again. Now I know I should really just cut him off but I hate people forcing my hand, and despite what went down we were friends even before we started dating. So...now once again I am the other woman...even though my hands are clean!
(Originally posted: 14 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Benefits?! Yes Please!

Ok...when did you guys send out the memo? And why did no one bother to send mine along? Or is mine on its way via snail mail (and with all the technology abound I don't know who was fool enough to use snail mail in this day and age)?
Alright, I guess you're wondering what's got me so ticked off? When was the embargo on sex signed into law? I thought that was just Kenya or wherever. I don't know whether it's just me but I thought one of the benefits of being an active party of a "committed" relationship (RE: Commitment Pt 1 for more of my views on this issue) was the sex? (Alright...1 minute to laugh is all you're getting starting now!)
I'm quite serious...wasn't that the only tangible fringe benefit of being one of a twosome? Yes...I know alot of my readers will gasp in protest and say a relationship is about more than sex, that it's about togetherness, mutual compatibility, and all those mushy warm fuzzy feelings. Ok...I concede in part, but really...isn't sex an incentive somewhere in the mix? Don't get all sanctimonious with me...YOU! I've never been a moralist, always a realist, so why should I start being a goodie two shoes now?
Maybe when I was younger and in my free loving phase I wouldn't think twice about looking for stress relief where I could find it, but I got sold a dud and was told that a relationship was the one place you could get 'all you can eat' guilt-free sex with consistency. So I tossed out my vibrator, hell I even got rid of my booty call! But now I raise a hand in protest and holler as loud as I can na lie o!.
Don't get me wrong I like the late night chilling, the companionable silences, the discussing how your respective days went (even though at times it can be a challenge stifling an inappropriate yawn), the pretending to like the dumb gift he got you on your birthday (if you're lucky that is and he even remembered), the fact that you don't have to drag your best male friend along to events were a plus 1 is a must or heavens forbid turn up stag. All benefits of the relationship. But let's cut to the chase and get to the nitty gritty...it's the sex!
Now...I am by no means a nympho (although by Chike's dating definitions I'm an Easy Nymphomanic...how cool is that?), and I do prefer a little sophistication when it comes to gettin my freak on, but I want what I want when I want it...and right now I ain't getting it! They should really make people sign contracts before they start dating...you know like as you start you have to pledge to do the deed at least 3 times a week (pls note no upper limits exists, grind til you kaput) unless by mutual consent, and a fine should be placed on erring parties, because if that were the case I'd be a fucking millionaire (no pun intended...well not really :-), but you get my drift). I make no apologies...I'm a hoochie...for the right man.

PS: the author will start accepting applications by 30th June. Multiple applications will be rejected, and a full medical report by an approved hospital is required (ECG a must).
PPS: This is a result of Candida, Chike and James's bad influence.
(Originally posted: 14 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Relationship Junkie

Aight...before you even say it...let me say it for you...there she goes again! Yes I'm back on the back of my usual and highly loved whipping boy...the relationship! I have nothing against relationships...look at my status. I exist in some sort of relationship although nowadays it tending more towards a relationship with myself.
Anyway looking at my relationship calendar recently, I was shocked to find that I've hardly ever been single for any tangible length of time! The longest period of time ever with me existing in a single state was close to two years, but I'm beginning to think that was solely based on the fact that there were no 'appropriate' men around (and anyway I really don't think I was looking too hard in all honesty). But seriously I don't think I've stayed 2 weeks without a man, sometimes I've even managed to get a replacement within 2 hours. Anyway my musings got me asking...am I a relationship junkie?. Is there a part of me so hung up on being in a relationship that I can't function effectively unless I'm one half of a twosome? Is there something about me that makes me unable to 'walk alone' or is just my desire not to wind up like someone prophesied (you know yourself...and I ain't letting that go no time soon) dying from an overdose of arsenic unwanted and unloved? Now to the Ms. Independent that I is, this line of reasoning had me screaming a very impassioned Hell no!!! but even I can't fight the evidence.
Like most people I have my addictions, I drink coffee like it's water, I have an overly fond relationship with Coca Cola (more of my caffeine addiction), I've been trying to kick my nicotine habit for God knows how long, and I have a fetish for underwear. All well and good. I'm also moderately OCD so I tend to be compulsive when I have a bee in my bonnet. Also...all well and good. But has my addiction prone and compulsive personality made me seek a new addiction...the relationship? Or is it a sign that I am not as independent as I once thought and require a constant state of codependance?
Now this thought got me looking at other women around me, to see whether my fixation was odd or if I was the norm, and this is what I found. Although alot of women exist in some state of singlehood (and longer than my 2 week average) it usually isn't by any choice of their own. It's not that they don't want the ...and the animals went in two by two it's just that the men of their choosing are unavailable. Well this could mean that they're more choosy than I am or it could just mean that more of the type of men I desire are readily available. Whatever the reasons women naturally gravitate towards relationships, men it seems naturally gravitate towards relations that somehow end up as relationships.

(Original posted: 15 May 2009)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Little Johnny

A little more non-poetic poetry (or something like it)

Little Johnny was a good boy no doubt,
So his mama said and so it remained til he found what life was all about
He met a girl that rocked his world
And into an abyss he quickly was hurled
She gave him her love, her body, and all she had to give
Whatever she did Little Johnny was quick to forgive
She fucked around...big daddies, fine dandies, alhajis too
Then she'd come crying and say '...but you know it's you I love...don't you boo?'
He still couldn't see the truth from the lies...maybe from all the tears he cried
She had no heart, no love, no truth, with every 'I love you' she always lied
One day she left, took her bag and cleared without a trace
Till one day Johnny found himself in a place staring into space
Life slippin through his fingertips, lab report his only focus
Prayin to the Lord above for a miracle, a little divine hocus pocus
'Love's a lie' he screamed and fist to sky started to rave
For her kinda love had led him to his early grave!
(Originally posted: 19 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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A Day like Any Other

This is an excerpt from a story

"Brrng! Brrng!! BRRNG!!!" The alarm rang out shrilly at 5.30AM and long beautifully manicured fingers, attached to an equally beautiful slim hand, stretched out from under the thick ocean duvet cover frantically searching for the snooze button to turn it off.
"Oh God...I hate Monday mornings," Guinevere Omolara Adeniyi, otherwise known as Gwen amongst friends, muttered to herself as she woke up this Monday morning and brought her head out from under the covers, "why do mondays have to come around?!" She turned on her side to look at her still sleeping fiance, envying him his ability to sleep through every and anything until his body's own internal clock went off like clockwork at 6.30 when he'd jump right up and be ready to roll in five minutes flat. It infuriated her like hell...she needed at least thirty minutes in the shower, and three cups of coffee before she could be ready for anything.
It was wet and cloudy, a typical Port Harcourt day, rainy season or not, and it suited her 'I hate Mondays' mood perfectly. She counted to five in her head and sat up quickly before she changed her mind and went back to sleep. Her jet black hair flowed down her back and her perfectly sculpted breasts rose as she stretched, the duvet bunched around her waist, giving her the look of an ancient goddess coming out of the sea, the color of the duvet aiding the vision.
"Well, no rest for the wicked...or for those that want to get paid" she exhaled under her breath as she pushed the covers aside and walked in all her naked glory to the bathroom.
"Damn...I hate Mondays"
Thirty minutes later she was dressed and in the kitchen of her apartment sipping on a triple espresso and checking her Blackberry to make sure she had her schedule down pat. Already she'd received fifteen emails from the offices in Boston and Calgary and had to reply all before lunch, and that was just the start. She flicked her slim wrist, looked at her Rado, and noted it was now quarter past the hour. Draining the last of the coffee from her oversized Harvard Alumni mug, she headed for the door, car keys in one hand and leather briefcase in the other, and briefly paused in the hallway to give herself a once over in the mirror that traversed an entire wall, and liked what she saw.
Her severely cut man-style charcoal grey blazer, crisp white T. M Lewin shirt and ash coloured flat-front trousers gave her just the look she wanted...kick ass business tycoon. She wore minimal makeup, just foundation and a light bronze tinted lipgloss. Her gold loop earrings were small and tasteful and the only other jewellery she wore was a charm bracelet given to her by her father for her sweet sixteen, fourteen long years ago. Her hair was secured in a very strict, no nonsense 'schoolmarm' bun and her wire-rimmed glasses were the final touch to the ensemble. What she didn't see was that the severe nature of her outfit actually enhanced her beauty, and the masculine cut emphasised her obvious femininity.
Guinevere wasn't what you would describe as a classic beauty, actually taking her features individually she was quite imperfect. Her nose was a tad too pointed, her eyes a little too far apart and much too big, her forehead a bit too high, her lips a smidge too full, and her chin too small for her long oval face, but taken as a whole, she was breathtakingly unforgettable. She had the look of a fashion model...tall and graceful, but voluptuously curved and she walked, or rather floated, into a room with such unconscious poise and sensuality that men found it hard not to take a second, third and fourth look. What made her even more beautiful was that she was unconscious of the fact that she was the one they were looking at.
The white shirt contrasted perfectly with her latte coloured skin, and its open collar brought focus to her swan-like neck. The tailored blazer did not actually hug her but seemed effortlessly to caress her torso and gave a hint at the body that lay beneath. The slim pants elongated her already long legs, making her seem far taller than her none too shabby 5 foot 9. Her only concessions to feminine vanity were a cloud of Christian Dior's Addict and a pair of, obscenely expensive but ever so sexy, charcoal grey lie leather 3 inch Malano Blahnik maryjanes. Shoes and perfume were her only passion outside work.
As she drove along Evo Road with the 'Morning Drive' on the radio chattering in the background, she contemplated her day and dreaded its close. Dinner with her uncle was always a trial and that was on for tonight.
Her assistant greeted her with a bright 'Good morning, Boss!' that set her teeth on edge and handed her a stack of papers that needed her signature, phone messages and the morning papers, already reviewed and all relevant articles highlighted to make reading easier. It was clearly going to be one of those days.
She quickly went through the stack of messages, dashed off a number of emails, and was so engrossed that she didn't immediately hear the knock on her office door, nor hear the door open.
"Ms. Adeniyi! Mr. Fettelli from Portobello Construction is here...conference room or here?" Ndidi said as she put her head through.
"It's 10 already?" asked a startled Guinevere, not having realized that time had flown so quickly, "alright...in here then"
A sharp rap on the door and Alessandro Fettelli was walked in by Ndidi and at that moment the world went into slow motion, as the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen walked into her office...

(Originally Posted: 19 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Why Your Man is Mine!

One day I heard two chicks (Ms A and Ms. B) talking about another girl (Ms. C). The conversation had to do with Ms. C's boyfriend who had a thing with Ms. B. Ms. C confronted Ms. B on the relationship. Ms. B was giving her homegirl, Ms. A, the lowdown on how she dey 'scatter his dada' and his how his boo Ms. C had no game. This conversation generated the little ditty below. :-)

And she's wondering why her man is mine!
I wind like a tight ass baseline,
a fly mamasita with a dope ass waistline.
Packing such heat, rocking that steady beat, like I'm on a drum line
, he's yours no doubt for this time,
but I do it so rightly that now he's beggin to be mine!
Girl don't be hating cos i'm steady gyrating
And let's face it...this ain't high school debating.
What's to debate?
Ain't my fault if you couldn't participate or that it's me he feenin to date!
If I got the 'good good' who do we blame?
Is it my fault your bedmatics are lame?
You call him Papi
But it's me he's calling Mami!
Ain't my fault that I'm on top of my grind, queen of this game!
But it is my fault that when he's with you he be calling my name!
I give him moments like Destiny's Child
I have him screamin "girl it's u gonna bear my child"
You and me?! No contest!
The boi be calling me 'Mi likkle Empress'.
This war ain't even fair, like comparing a Beetle to a Ferarri.
If this was a spy game, you'd have to call me Mata Hari,
I bring it like it's voodoo, like I'm some type of guru...so give a salute to...the Guru Maharaji.
Come let me school you, I promise not to fool ya.
I'll school you for free, learn you how to be a freak like me, teach you how and make a pro outta ya.
Bring out your pen and pad,
Let me teach you and turn you to a good girl that done gone bad
I'll teach you why your man steady paging me
Begging me to let him call me his lady.
Let me show you how I made the man addicted
Let me teach what I with his d**k did!
Let me teach you why I'm wrecking shop and why he calls me Ms. Candy
Let me introduce you to my bag of tricks which I always keep handy
In Linguistics I got an 'A' in Oral,
With him Imma gettin 'A's in plural.
In your movie I'm A-listed, the Big Kahuna, the lead star
When they roll the credits you'll be wondering where you are.
Ain't seen your man in 2dys? Come...let me show you where he laying.
Giant slayer...I ain't, but girl...your man...I'm nightly and ever so rightly slaying!
When I work it...I work it to perfection, between you and I, I'm his No. 1 selection.
Damn...I hit it so good he wanted to throw away the protection. If we asked him to vote, girl I'd be first lady dominating in that election!
For you he sings Kardinal Offishall...'You can't be my no. 1'
For me he's beggin let's make it official, but i said 'honey that ain't on!'
But don't worry, I don't want him to keep
Just a lil longer mayb, cos when he works it, the brother goes deep!

(Originally Posted in Facebook: 22 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Bi, Straight or Gay?

Ok I'm back! Been off the note train for a bit but been sorely lacking in inspiration. Not that i'm really inspired right now, but the mind is a muscle and if not exercised it suffers atrophy, and a sick twisted mind like mine is a terrible thing to waste ;-). So to escape the realms of the congenitally brain dead I'll endeavor to write.
Since i've been gone lots has gone down. I'm officially single and got my player jersey back :-) so applications can start coming in now ahead of the earlier announced June 30 open season. I added a year to my age on Wednesday and have my foot a little deeper in the grave. I had a far out trip to Gidi, did the celeb paparazzi thing, got a guy to strip for me (only his tee mind you...I liked the shirt and he obliged).
The trip was great on the networking front but I struck out major league on the macking tip...seriously...strike 1, strike 2, strike 3 and you're out!...I have no game! ROTFL! Not even a booty squeeze! :-(.
However the trip got me starting to wonder if I'm a latent homosexual! Aha...knew that'd grab you by the nuts. I could go all Jamie Foxx and blame it on the alcohol, but doesn't alcohol just lower your inhibitions? Why am I on this train?
Well I went all Katy Perry during my trip and smooched some random chick in a nightclub, unfortunately I was too drunk to remember much about it apart from the fact that she was FINE, and I know I hit on another chick at another club, but she said I wasn't her type. I got hit on by another chick the next day and for a moment seriously considered inviting her to my telly the next day!
Now that has me worried! The first incidents could be blamed on imbibing too much of Russia's finest, but the second? Stone sober?
It could just be a manifestation of my natural curiosity about gettin with a woman. Or it might be the effects of my current sex famine and I'm just horny. LOL. It's not that I haven't thought about it before, but maybe because the opportunity has never really presented itself I've never had reason to seriously contemplated it. Now however, the opportunity presents...so do I act upon it and add it to the list of crazy things I've done in my life or take a chill pill and not start something that I might find I like a whole lot more than the regular? And let's face it...getting head'll never be an issue again. ;-).
Homosexuality is a big ass no-no in our society and most others but people seem far more tolerant of girl on girl action. And I ask why? Same sex is same sex whether male on male or female on female so why the discrimination? A lot of guys I know are hoping to sing Ray Lavender's "My Girl Got a Girlfriend" ditty in hope of a good old fashioned menage a trois but shouldn't what's sauce for the goose be sauce for the gander too? And shouldn't acceptance of one equal acceptance of the other? This is just me thinking out loud while my angel and my devil fight for my eternal soul over my bi-straight-gay musings!
Now I know majority of my male friends'll be like 'Can I watch?' if I ever decide to flip the switch and start tappin instead of gettin tapped (and the answer to that is a very empathic...Hell NO!!!).
(Originally Posted in facebook: 05 June 2009)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Not Quite Poetry (Love Network)

Message sent

Reply delivered

Tender endearment rendered from frenzied lips
Tongues lock, arms entwined, tangled limbs, discarded linens
Hastily tasting, Madly embracing, reason erasing.

Erection, eruption devoid of protection.
Tender goodbyes, new assignments designed.
Telephone rings Telephone drops

Loving words reconsidered.

Network disconnected


DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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Light Up Nigeria? Pt 2

Break time over and our lesson continues, now where were we? Oh yes...quoting the GDP guy.
Let's take it from the top again so we don't lose the flow!



"…the more the efforts are that have been made in the power sector, the more troubled things seem to become. The more money is spent on the sector, the more epileptic and unreliable the performance of the sector appears to be."



How true the statement! N27billion was allocated to the power sector in the annual budget (asides from its own internal revenue of about N25 billion) yet as I write, workers in the power sector are currently on strike protesting for improved funding, improved wages, actually improved everything. The government clearly has no faith in their investment, especially considering that they also earmarked $2 billion in taxpayer money for provision and maintenance of generators for the Federal Government and its agencies. Hey you…stop rolling on the floor laughing! This is not funny and it’s made more ridiculous by the fact that WE (yes! We!!) supply light to neighboring countries (some of whom have celebrated a decade of uninterrupted power) and we can’t even power the residence of the Presido! Ok…NOW you can roll on the floor! Meanwhile those in charge of the sector gladly boast of increases in revenue generation. It’s quite elementary really…reduce output (thus reducing overhead) and charge more for services not rendered, et voila…instant increased revenues!
Now we’re (sorry Government IS) still bull-horning the “Giant of Africa” slogan for all who care to listen (and to those that don’t i.e. the average Nigerian on the street) but really how giant are we? Now…as I said earlier…power generation is strongly linked to GDP, where do we stand in Africa with regard to energy generation capacity. According to The World Conventional Energy Supply, 2004, Africa's highest supply in descending order of magnitude as follows: South Africa has 30,020MW capacity; Egypt has 14,250MW capacity; Algeria has 6,188MW capacity; Libya has 4,710 MW capacity; Nigeria has 3,960MW capacity and Morocco has 3,592MW capacity etc. i.e. South Africans have 10 times more energy than Nigerians. Population-wise South Africa has approximately 44 million inhabitants, and as I said, Nigeria has approximately 140 million. Is something wrong with this equation? (I’m actually scratching my head here). Ok math time (calculators out children!) Nigerians have roughly 11W per person…and the average light bulb needs 60W to work! Hmmm!!! Again the equation is baffling me! It’s a K. O (not even a technical one, the 1-2 combo very a la Ali) and South Africa takes the belt!
So how can we regain the championship belt? Simple! Provide adequate power! Now to the class work…if the power situation improves, and the $117 billion (N6 trillion) that is spent annually in Nigeria on diesel and generators is invested into the Health or Education sector, or infrastructural development what are the benefits? Let’s see. Firstly cost of living would fall drastically, cottage industries would flourish as the cost of doing business would drop, industries with huge employment and revenue generation potential such as manufacturing and textiles, could effectively and efficiently function (huge overheads having disappeared), and more businesses (and more employees) equal increased tax earnings. Income generation diversification would naturally follow as more export would mean reduced dependence of oil revenue (which as we know is receding rapidly…like Nicholas Cage’s hairline). This means more money in Government’s coffers. Environmental degradation would reduce (no more CO2 emissions from generators), and if gas (of which Nigeria flares 97% of what she produces) is the primary source of fuel for power plants it would further reduce, and conversely save the planet for our generations unborn and generate more money for Government. It’s a win-win situation! The people are happy, the Government makes money (equals happiness)! So for homework, answer this question…why doesn’t the Government just do what it must and #lightupnigeria?


DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Light Up Nigeria? Pt 1



On Monday, 14th of July 2009 a revolution occurred. No shots resounded, not AK 47s or mortar bombs in sight. No state of emergency declared, no martial music played on the radio. Nothing! Not an outward sign exists to herald the birth of this coup d’état that started like a whisper and is gradually rising to a roar. This roar will soon become a deafening crescendo if its momentum continues to grow. Several events have taken place during the last few weeks (and months) that I have chosen not to write upon. Primarily because they had been adequately treated by more competent and experienced bloggers, or simply because I had nothing further to add (I’m not the kind to blog just for the sake of reading my own text, that’s what my diary’s for). I was most recently nearly (thisclose) tempted to write after the DRAB vs. 9ja youth debacle (my Twitter and Facebook friends will understand this reference) but Bankole Wellington (aka Banky W) wrote a very eloquent rejoinder in defense of our youth. However, Light Up Nigeria (#lightupnigeria) requires special treatment.
It’s apparent from the first paragraph (for those who do pay attention to my yammering) that once more I have jumped on my tiny little soapbox and started with my ant-like ranting, as is always the case when the words “politics” and Nigeria are mentioned in the same paragraph within earshot of me. What in the name of the gods am I on about this time (and could I get to the point already…yes, yes in my spare time I read minds too!)? I’m talking about a new movement that is gaining ground care of the Nigerian youth movement via the social networking forum Twitter.
The premise behind the movement is to primarily protest the epileptic (and near non-existent) power supply situation in the former Giant of Africa, the much abused and pillaged but still beloved land of my birth (if not my upbringing), Nigeria. The government would have you believe that we are still giants on the continent, but alas WE the people know the truth (and the rest of the World is getting the picture too). The person that started the movement’s momentum is El Dee the Don a popular musician in Nigeria apparently after he almost lost a relation during childbirth, due to…power outage. It isn’t as if that’s a new occurrence, or that power outages are not a permanent fixture in the life of the average Nigerian (actually having power is more or less a special occasion…kinda like birthdays and Christmas), but as the saying goes, a certain time arises in the life of a man where he says enough is enough! And seriously, ENOUGH is ENOUGH. With the aid of his twitter family the movement started. People started attaching the #lightupnigeria hash tag to every tweet and picture, stating their reasons why government should address the perennial power problems, within the space of two days the #lightupnigeria hash tag had reached No. 18 on the worldwide tweet topic list, and more people are joining the train. The stars came out to shine and light up the area, with celebrities such as M. I. (Jude Abaga), Banky W (Bankole Wellington), Tosyn Bucknor, Andre Henshaw, Kel (Kel Ohia) et al joining the movement and soliciting support from their tweet posses.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such zeal for anything asides from money among the youth in my country, and it’s always seemed to be a case of “e go better” with everyone sitting put in the typical “siddon look” posture, waiting for a hero to come save them. In all my ‘soapbox’ chronicles, I’ve always advocated taking personal responsibility, being the change rather than waiting for the change to happen. At last, I see it coming to pass in my lifetime.
Now for those of you not in the know you might wonder why the agitation, after all hasn’t this always been the way of the world (in Nigeria that is)? Let me take you to school briefly and give you a history, economics and political science lesson in an abridged form. Don’t get panicky when you see figures like $117 billion (is that nine or twelve zeros at the end of that?) or other such sums you only hear about on TV or see in the papers, why panic? Our government isn’t worried, so why should you be?
Nigeria has a population of approximately 140 million people (hence the Giant of Africa pseudonym (totally on account of population)) and is the 7th largest producer of crude oil in the world. We’re rich right? *buzzer goes off in response to that statement, signifying error, invalid command entered* Well according for those in the know, we are DIRT poor (not just ordinary poor) with between 75 -85% of the population living below the poverty line (personally I figure it’s more like 95%, but what do I know?). Industrial growth is near 0 and the few businesses we have relocating to friendlier hubs such as Ghana. Why? Inadequate power distribution and the high overheads incurred running generators 70% of the day. The energy demands of the country are estimated at 25000MW, the reality…the country’s current output is roughly 3900MW (of which 2400MW are self-generated!) and in the last decade roughly $16 billion (yes dollars, not naira) has been invested in the power sector and nothing has happened. In the words of the author of a study conducted on the correlation between power generation capacity and GDP:
"…the more the efforts are that have been made in the power sector, the more troubled things seem to become. The more money is spent on the sector, the more epileptic and unreliable the performance of the sector appears to ...
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09 July 2009

The Five-Year Plan

I sat down recently and contemplated my existence and as usual it was a depressing event. I checked my prior year and the years before and asked myself what had I done with the time that I'd been granted. For those that are wondering why I waited till now to do this, it's quite elementary Watson (to borrow from the Great Sherlock Holmes)...my "new" year commences on the day of my birth, in this case 3rd June. Anyway that piece of trivia aside, I reviewed my goals and objectives and found I'd consistently fallen short of the mark on all of them, and let out a wail of frustration.
Some of the goals I'd set for myself were very un-SMART (for the non-management degree holders this means Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic and Timed). They lack concrete description, could not be quantified, were highly unattenable and totally unrealistic and had no timeframe attached to them. And pursuit of such goals is the path to the loony bin. Other goals were totally out of my control and depended on others for their fulfilment. More loony fest material. I thus sat with a pen and pad, the requisite cup of java, mobi turned off and a "Do not disturb" sign boldly displayed on my front door, and slowly began the change process.
Change is never totally an external phenomena, it tends more to be an in-out process as opposed to an out-in one. Sure, certain external events can promote change to an extent but fundamentally change occurs when you make the decision to, and my life was definitely due for a change. My external catalyst for change was my "boyfriend" who after 7 eventful years now told me he wasn't likely to get hitched to me (I had to ask! Times a-wasting, my hairs a-grayin). Talk about a kick in the ass! This got me thinking (at last...do I hear you chanting)! What was I waiting for? I have no major commitments, I'm still young, still have all my hair and most of my teeth and I'm still a hottie (yeah, yeah, I know, I know...modesty becomes me)...so why was I putting brakes on my future? Because I was waiting on a proposal that I now know isn't likely to materialize? Good question. I finally realized I was holding on with tenacity so I'd have an excuse if I failed to fulfil my potential.
I drew up a list (surprisingly it was very short) of what was "wrong" with my life, what I needed to do to change the wrong (still working on that one), what I wanted to achieve with my life (even shorter) and then how I intended to get there as well as put a timeframe on each activity.
The first thing I decided that I would do more of was take risks. As the saying goes "nothing ventured, nothing gained" and if I don't take chances I only have myself to blame when I swallow sour grapes. The first risk I took was to submit some of my writing to a magazine. My facebook followers and friends had always told me that I should take the writing gig seriously but I always brushed it aside as friends being friends and blowing smoke up my derriere. I guess fear of flying also played a role in my reluctance, the fear of falling flat on my face and receiving rejection slips. This time I said "f**k it, what's the worst that can happen?" and took a shot by following up on requests for freelance writers for an internationally based magazine. I just submitted my first articles and my by-line could be coming to a vendor near you pretty soon (fingers crossed they publish the drivel I sent).
Number two on my list was to see exactly where this Entertainment gig would take me. I'm now in the process of signing on two new acts (actually three if I count my actress) to my artist management outfit (and registering the same) and am set to audition as the anchor of a new TV show billed to take off next quarter.
I've still not finished drafting my five-year plan, but I think I'm making inroads on breaking the past five years jinx!

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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07 July 2009

The Journey

It's been a while since i've graced this segment. I apologize for my neglect (and in advance for my subsequent future desertion for alas many more shall come). My muse has redirected my thoughts to other areas, and though I still love to write, it's become a chore, a thankful (not thankless) one, thank the gods, but a chore nonetheless.
What wisdom (or madness dependent on your point of view; always respected by me, but please do extend me the same) to impart upon your minds today, I wonder? A little prose? A little poetry? Whatever it shall metamorph into, it will be a part of me. With every line, with every thought, with every vision expressed, I give to you (lovingly) a piece of my heart, my mind, my essence. My naked self, my true being, my totality and my (mildly skewered and thoroughly screwed) reality.

The Journey
I sat and wondered,
And I solemnly pondered,
On life's meaning and what is truly love, on joy and pain,
On wishful thoughts and hapless hopes, perceived loss and factual gain.
On starts and ends, on laughter and tears.
I look around and tallied my cares, my years and my fears.
I checked my past, my present and my future plains,
I saw the shallow, unmarked graves of dreams I'd unwittingly slain.
I heard the hue and cry, the reasons given why,
Why i should close my eyes to opportunity and growth, to voices within and without,
on why i should stay in this stagnant place.
Why i should be content with present state, and not work toward my stated grace.
I blocked my ears, steeled my arms, armed with just a will to succeed and steadfast heart, clad my feet,
Onward i tread, climbing steady, never lookin as Lot's wife did, upon the ruins of my past, steady climbin away from their predicted defeat.
Lonesome journey, devoid of friend or foe, this is a journey that is but mine alone.
Though the journey may tarry, my legs may become wary, my future lays brightly on the horizon, beckoning, the siren call to my ears.
Bruised, battered and barely whole, i will reach my intended and long sought for goal,
Then like the phoenix of lore, I shall rise, as from the ashes, I shall arise.
Once and for all, master of my art, not a tear shall shed from these eyes.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


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