"We've Got More Bounce in California Than All Y'all Combined!"

On Sunday I went for the gay pride parade*huuuugge sigggghhh* I’m telling you, no one does excess like the group my friend’s mother refers to as ‘The Gays’. I say, these people do NOT celebrate in halves!!!… Silver spandex, sequined catsuits, neon colours, hair in the wrong places, finger snapping, Diva dust throwing, size46 heels??? WOW!

I don’t even know why I was surprised because on Saturday I had gone on the SF Gay Parade website (to mentally prepare myself for any potential foolery in the days ahead)and had seen the following requirement for entry: “Your float should openly display something showing yourself off, displaying your ideals, recognizing your friends or thrashing your enemies. All done with a sense of artistic flair in public view.”Lol!!!! LETS GO DIA!!!!

So, I left my books in Berkeley and went to witness the magic in F’risco because….well, I have never been one to shy away from foolywang material and number 2. Because,*ahem*...One of the major tenets on which this blog was founded, is the efficient and effective documentation & emanation of foolishness for the curious minds of generations yet unborn.....…(Don’t ever say mama never gave the world nothing!!!lol!)

So with pictures and running commentary, heres San Francisco at its finest hour……



The first person I saw upon my triumphant arrival at the Parade.....*say it with me now* "Epic.Fail."


Uhhhm, I kind of need to know WHY you are standing in the middle of our streets topless, discussing maps, directions and other banalities like you cant feel the breeze on your skin!?...and yes, the female partner is in her undergarments....and why do lesbians cut their hair?!pretty useless to me as a statement of rebellion*shrugs*...my friend was seriously vexed, only the ugliest of women were busy making their clothes absent and and showing boobs...hmmm, i wonder why?!


This queen was a joker. Waving her fan in front of her face whilst gulping down cold beer...such a dainty Hemale.



This woman was a most audacious human being, sitting in the grass naked as you please, side-eyeing the people walking past fully clothed like WE were the ones doing something as offensive as exposing breasts that have lost the battle with gravity.*hisss*


I didnt see Solange, but Carrie Bradshaw a.k.a Buttercup, made an appearance spewing all kinds of feeeevvvaaahhhh baby!!*snap for the kids two times*


This queen saw my camera and immediately proceeded to give the pose I refer to as the 'BOW IN THE PRESENCE OF GREATNESS'....reason #34,122 I love Kanye West, the Kany'isms he provides are appropriate for any and every diva-dust certified moment.


I know people don't normally believe my tales of manly men with feminine gaits and micro minis. So heres one. With a pink-tinged umbrella and a ra-ra skirt. Make of that what you will.


Obama wasnt left out of the festivities...look closely at diva's custom-made dress, it says OBAMA 08...I was actually afraid when I was taking a picture because this Goliath(stilettos plus a 6'4 frame is NOT it!!)saw me and gave a look that CLEARLY said "sigh, why you gon make me slap a chick today?!? And i JUST did my nails too"....but i HAD to....all the while thinking I might lose teeth today!:-)


I know your eyes may be transfixed on the hairy diva that could, BUT i want you to cast your gaze on the hemale appropriately standing 'To The Left(to the left)'....now, begin to CURSE Beyonce in any language known to you!!!!See what she has done to the world with that foolish love of spandex high-legged swimsuits!


Fatal Error's daddy.


In another post, I refered to the *Girl don’t make me take this to a “hold my earrings” moment, you better stop staring at my man* side-eye. THIS is what it looks like. Also notice the skirt sweetly grazing his knee.


It was a really crazy day*smiles*. The whole day reminded me of an article I recently read about people killing gay men in Jamaica for being gay and large groups of men raping lesbians to‘reform them’. All in the name of saving them from themselves or from hell or something.*blank stare* Er, just how jobless are you exactly? So you cant find ANY work whatsoever to do on this earth that you must go and begin to do God's work for Him?! Some people have really crowned themselves Earth-based Representatives of the Heavenly Hosts, Angel Gabriel, Winged Horses & Cherubim! I'm christian myself and I've read what the Bible says about homosexuality but to be honest I dont fully understand the lifestyle so I cant really judge. And I'm all for keeping God's commandments but killing someone for homosexuality is really taking things too far in my humble opinion.

I mean maybe people can stop deciding just who will cross the Pearly Gates and let God be God by Himself. The way I see it, a God that can sit down in heaven and send small irritations to frustrate a whole nation until they give him what he wants doesn’t really need any human's help to do what He wants to do. (Seriously though, have you ever considered just how funny the 10 plagues are?!?!... Like instead of just killing the whole nation and saving the Isrealites or something, He just annoyed the Egyptians to submission, sending frogs, boils, flies, turned drinking water to blood…just imagine the frustrations of a typical Egyptian housewives like “…Na wa oh! Wetin we go see this morning!?! Yesterday as we dey chop, I pour water e look like wine! Today I wash clot hang, sun no come from morning to night! Na pack I go pack comot for dis kine badbelle country oh!”…lol!...THAT right there is the reason Pharaoh softened, an angry housewife!)

So somehow, this same God wiped out whole nations, made experienced soldiers believe they were seeing chariots of fire instead of four lepers AND allegedly took someone to STRAIGHT to heaven, without tasting death first….. and some christians still really think that they are qualified to decide who will burn in the sulphur-ridden fires of hell because they are gay or otherwise. Who born you??!? I mean think about it, if Jesus said the most important commandment is Love when He could have easily said “observe Peace brethren” or “Be perpetually kind” or the Christian fave “Righteous living” who is anyone to say otherwise?!?So our own duty as christians is to love, fullstop. God is the judge. I don’t know much about the gay lifestyle, although yesterdays experience really put a human face to it and gave me a little more insight, but somehow killing people for being gay seems really unfair to me and reminded me of this quote:

"As with the christian religion, the worst adverisement for socialism is its adherents"-George Orwell(another of my fave authors)

Thinkaboutit.

*Steps off soap box and goes back to study*

I heard.....

"The world turneth upside down; the babe feeds its nurse, the pupil teaches its teacher. And the ass wipeth its master."-Another reason 'Measure for Measure' remains one of Shakespeares best works....critics, chop egg.

Favourite Things

(BTW.....See you later Mr. Jackson, thank you for helping me dust the floor with numerous 9year olds' faces in dancing competitions! You are present in so many of my favourite childhood memories....although with your [alleged] trackrecord for little kids, I should probably be more worried than I am*shrugs*.Thank you anyways....I believe the only people sadder than most of us 9year old 'Dancing Champions' are the many Nigerian women who will now never be able to know your bleaching secrets. So thank you sir, even in death, you continue to Heal The World...and make it a better place. So to you, Mr. Irreplaceable Legend, I'm saying "see you later" not "goodbye" because...."When you’re larger than life, you never can say goodbye, because nobody will let you leave"*)

Another of my favourite poems....and totally unrelated to MJ:

First Day at School

A millionbillionwillion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.

And the railings.
All around, the railings.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don't take sweets from?
Perhaps they're to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine.

I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful.
Like wellies. When there's puddles.
Yellowwellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher will read it for me.
Tea-cher. The one who makes the tea.

Roger McGough


* verysmartbrothas.com

Welcome To Nollywood

I love Nollywood, its Pringles-like quality makes it so addictive. Seriously it’s like a Hallmark movie, you don’t want to watch it but once you pop, you can’t stop. You KNOW no good can come out of this movie you are watching, you KNOW what exactly the end will be from the beginning, with the loudly screeched adverts....yet you lose 3 hours and 37 minutes of your life that you will never ever regain in watching said movie. But you’re happy. Because you have just laughed more times in the 337 than you have in a week. My dad used to complain about Nollywood. He was more than suspicious of its contents; he thought they were solely created to reduce the human I.Q to the barest decimal. Or to test his patience. Possibly:-).

But I soon explained to him that the problem he faced in watching these movies stemmed from a much deeper rooted problem; his refusal to surrender to foolishness. Nollywood can only be enjoyed if the viewer makes a conscious decision to surrender his intelligence at the door, BEFORE pressing play. Anything else is a fatal error, because you will spend parts 2 and 3 of the movie complaining bitterly to avid fans like myself (who will begin to mentally devise numerous ways to make you extinct in a bid to shut you up!).

If for instance, while watching a Nollywood film I am informed [by the dubious plot] that there is a Nigerian pig presently located on the moon,that the piglet in question travelled there with a forged visa, stolen passport and on a slow-moving camel,that said 'Niglet' is currently in communication with Martians to bomb Iraq; I will continue to watch, to learn if he will succeed in his mission.

OR, If I see a well educated, knowledgeable woman going to a witch doctor to procure a potion that will cause a hideously obscene man 13 times her age make her his wife, and the witch doctor requires she provide (and I quote), “….two white duck fowls who have not witnessed a dawn, the eyes of an ant….and one, granmama PINT (pānt).” I laugh until I’m weak, shrug it off and continue to watch, to see from which savanah’d anthill she will pluck out those eyes.

You see, the Ridiculosity Quotient is not much higher than that of the Transformers movie, yet people are so quick to shout Nollywood is “..So fake!"….yeah, because coloured robots the size of the Eiffel running round our city streets terrorizing peace-loving citizens isn't. Right.

So I watch nollywood happily as it takes the funniest and strangest bits about being Nigerian and makes them into sometimes poignant, often times pointless movies. And I love it. It makes me laugh, loud & long. And makes me think (mostly of the randomness of Nigeria). The clip below is from a movie appropriately titled "ONE DOLLAR"*. $1=Full. Blown.Jokes yet, it manages to convey a serious message about materialism, see thats the beauty of Nollywood...What else is entertainment for if not to make us laugh and think? And be distracted from studying the law.*sigh*

The crase starts from around 4.20, I was slayed by all references to “EH-MERRY-KUH!!!”*



*To Maga who steadfastly told me some of the funnier quotes in this video long before I saw it…I apologise for thinking you made them up. I know better now. And I’m even more convinced our friendship must cease.

**BTW, as I am typing this post up, my friend calls me to tell me Michael Jackson just died!...As we speak, my study buddy calls me to say she's bought tickets to the M.J concert in Paris in August....I'm sorry to laugh but, EPIC FAIL!!!!!lol!!

I heard.....

"....many things that happen in Nigeria are so unbelievable that they could very easily be misconstrued as fiction. Recently, I heard about a house that caught fire in Aba. Because the Fire Service arrived after the house had been completely razed by the fire, an angry mob made their way to the fire station and burnt the fire station down! That is the sort of thing that happens only on the pages of novels or in soap operas, but in Nigeria, those sorts of incidents happen every day."-(Adaobi Nwabauni interview)
-I wasnt sure if I should be proud at the community spirit or mad at the shortsightedness*sigh*

Things that make me go 'hmmmmm"

1.When violent Pentecostal prayers of the “All evil spirits summersault and die by fire” variety come up to God, do you think He lazily stares down at all the shouting, binding and casting, rolls His eyes and mutters “Miss me with that foolery today please”?

2.Actually, do you think prayers focused on chasing demons go up or down? If they are so focused on evil spirits, what is God supposed to do with them really? It’s like mail forwarded to the wrong address isn’t it?

3.Do you think some married women really resent their husbands and the nagging is just passive aggressive behaviour? I mean a size 6 woman marries and after 2 kids becomes a size16…..I’m hard pressed to believe she doesn’t think “…You idiot bastard of a gremlin-looking man, you are my biggest mistake! See the shoe-faced midgets you’ve made me born, no bride price for this children definitely!*vicious African hiss*”. Can we honstly believe that such women don’t have ‘2,398 Sure-fire Ways To Kill Your Husband’ paperback edition, catalogued in her minds’ library.

4.If Eve was made from her husbands’ rib and not by God directly does that make her her husbands daughter and therefore incestuous? Or just a bastard, cause she had no father? Neither?

5.If gay men are not even vaguely interested in women in THAT way, and are not women (regardless of how many times they snap their fingers in ‘Z’ formation while rolling their necks, and wear heels and make up…and skirts with half tops…and glide along the city streets clutching their boyfriends hands and giving you the *Girl don’t make me take this to a “hold my earrings” moment, you better stop staring at my man* side-eye….(or is that only in San Francisco*sigh*))….why are they the authority on women’s fashion…???....If I hear one more gay man (in my street or my screen) go “Girrlll you working those shoes like a drag queen on a Thursday night”…oh it’s going to be on like popcorn I tell you! Oh, and is the myth about the gay man and the black woman true?!?!

6. Why does Eve have Ghana-weaving with red (or Ozzzz-BLOD according to Nigerian market women) extensions on her head in the ‘Who’s That Girl’ video????!?!?!? Seriously, I just saw that video on telly yesterday!!! Youtube it! And why didn’t anyone lodge a complaint with the Censory Board??!... Allowing all this foolishness to go unchecked, influencing our youths and breeding even more hoodrats in the Oakland area.*Shakes head*

7.Why do people at techno clubs dance like they are listening to invisible ipods? Like how can you ACTIVELY go against the beat?!?! Honestly, I think every black person must go to a techno club at least once. I was hoodwinked into doing this and I swear it is actually much harder to dance against the beat PERSISTENTLY for 5 hours straight than you would think! I gained a new found respect for Caucasians on that day.

8.Why, despite the fact that there are more black people in America than in England, do I feel more black then I have ever felt before now that I’m in America ?? Riddle me this Batman, why did this anglo-saxon girl who worked in the school library and had seen me everyday…so knew my propensity for hood-rat behaviour was severely limited…. insist on the one day she came out with me and my friends to speak to ONLY me in a negro-fied tongue I didn’t understand ?!? Throwing words like “we was”, “girlfriend guuuuurrrrlll”, “conversate” etc, at me and turning round to my non-black friends and speaking in normal, decent-human English……I was confused. Everytime she spoke to me I had to check behind me in case Shaniqua had suddenly appeared behind me, asking to be condescended to.

9.Why do people insist that humans are all the same because underneath our skin, everyone’s blood is red? Er, yeah…cows bleed in red and you don’t see us holding hands and singing ‘Kumbaya’ with them, WTH?!?! I think we aren’t the same and that’s ok and I am inherently suspicious of people who say they don’t notice people’s races….Uhmmmm, you need more people to confirm that tale mate!!! I think human beings are divided but I don’t think we are divided along racial lines, its more like cultural ones so an Anglo-saxon raised Nigerian will have that often imitated, never duplicated Nigerian swagger(on a hundred thousand trillion kobo*)

10.What purpose does the belt serve?


EPIC.FAIL.

*thanks andeevah & ada

Monday Blues:-(

I woke up today completely overwhelmed by the task I’ve set for myself. And I woke up late. My phone was still on silent mode from studying yesterday night so all pings and wake up calls were promptly ignored…probably to my phones utter delight as I have been known to physically assault this non-living being several mornings a week. Anyways, I woke up frightened, like “What the hell was I thinking thinking I could take the New York bar exam?!?!” I have 35 days remaining. And 23 subjects left. To memorise by heart. *gulp*

I get up looking like I’d done a Jacob and engaged in battle with a burly angel in my dream; crazed and harassed. I stalk in my jammies to my pee’d-on territory in the study room. (Its so funny when you wake up angry and just stalk around, angry at everything and nothing in particular...until you mistakenly see yourself in the mirror; weave glued to head or electrified-out, eye crusted closed, looking like you’re channeling your inner Quasimodo…at that point you just have to laugh at yourself!).I sit, I try to study. But nothing is going in…..my brain is so full of fear there’s no room in the peanut for anything else. So I leave the dreaded McNasties sometimes referred to as ‘books’ and go back to my room.

I just sit in the dark and meditate. I need some help and no one can help me. All the Obamagery is totally useless now, of course it’s easy for everyone to say “You will be fine” and “You can do it”, what else will they tell you??? “Yeah um, dumb idea thinking you will pass this exam, it’s a lot of work for anyone, be realistic how will you pass?!? Just come home”. Times like this words can not suffice.

So, I go to the source of words….and thoughts….and actions. I go to God. Some people trust their self-sufficient will and strict discipline or their abilities or their history of success or their brains. This is good if it works for you (One of my best friends here is an atheist and I am slightly surprised by how genuinely fond of him I am regardless of the fact that our stances in life are so different. I don’t even bother preaching because my words can barely convey what God means to me and I don’t want to sell Him short, so I just do me and hope my actions whisper a little louder than my nonexistent words). If self-belief is enough for you, great…..but I have come to realize that some things in life require at least a modicum of luck, or favour or SOMETHING cos sometimes you do everything right but achieve what Greek mythologists describe as an EPIC FAIL!(LOL, I love those words!).

Sitting in the darkness in my room, I think & talk….. and I trust. I trust that the words I’m saying mean something to a higher power somewhere. I sit and I speak and I ask and I wonder out loud and I worry and I explain and I think. And I remember the words of Fred Hammond’s ‘Be Magnified’. Now, for the longest time, I didn’t get this song, I thought it was one of those gospel songs that incorporates abstract concepts eg ‘glorious’, wondrous, faithful etc. (I have always thought these are odd ways to describe God. I mean wondrous? Er, yeah maybe to the Isrealites after watching Him part a whole bloody ocean before their very eyes, wondrous, glorious, goddammm magnificient would be appropos. But to me, a girl living in a busy, smelly city, for whom oceans and miracles are only things you read about….a wondrous god means little. Honestly. I didn’t even get what Faithful meant until I heard a pastor say it means consistency. From my understanding, if you think God doesn’t save and He always fails you….then at least He is consistent and you can count on Him to not come through for you.lol! And I began to like and then fully understand what Christians mean by His faithfulness).

Anyways, so Be Magnified starts with Fred’s prayer: “ Lord we enlarge you in our vision greater than our problems, greater than our fears,greater than our insecurities, greater than the enemy himself.” It took me a while to understand what he was asking for in this prayer and in the song. I get it now and it think its really him just saying to himself “Lord I have this problem. And its huge. Seriously, its huge. But im choosing to focus on You and your promises. And to stare so much at you that I really can’t see anything else.” It’s like running a race.

When you’re running you have to look ahead, at the finish line and let that be the focal point of your race, because you need the direction. If you’re running and looking around you, a few things will distract you. I can just imagine myself running a race(I couldn’t write that without laughing due to my absolute hatred of any form of physical activity coupled with the fact that [apparently], when I run I look like I’m running backwards, according to my friend) and looking around me, the thoughts running through my head will include:“Oh wow, Tina has gained weight, hmm if a member of Team Chunk beats me today I will die of shame!” Or “Oh my lord see how fast O.J is running….wait oh, are those those new shoes that I wanted!?!?!Chei! This girl has started stealing, how did she afford them???!?” etc. Somehow you can see how this may not be good for Racewinning.

So after all of this, I felt better and returned to the McNasties energized, and determined to make like Peter and press on in Racerunning with my eyes fixed on Jesus. Not because I’m a good Christian but because right now, I can’t afford to look at anything else without falling.


Psalm 20:

1 May the LORD answer you when you are in distress;
may the name of the God of Jacob protect you.

2 May he send you help from the sanctuary
and grant you support from Zion.

3 May he remember all your sacrifices
and accept your burnt offerings. [b]

4 May he give you the desire of your heart
and make all your plans succeed.

5 May we shout for joy over your victory
and lift up our banners in the name of our God.
May the LORD grant all your requests.

6 Now this I know:
The LORD gives victory to his anointed.
He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary
with the victorious power of his right hand.

7 Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.

8 They are brought to their knees and fall,
but we rise up and stand firm.

9 LORD, give victory to the king!
Answer us when we call!


My friend Presido:-) sent me this psalm on the last anniversary of my sisters passing with a message that said something like, "Sometimes I dont know what to say but I really want to say something to you"...this psalm always lifts my spirit.

Dear Daddy

Happy Fathers day to The Sage, The Head, The man trusted above all others. To the Simple man, the honest, straightforward Advice Giver, The One who laughs with eyes crinkled at the corners, just like mine, and refers to me(voice laced with pride) as 'A Clown'. To my Daddy, The One with the booming voice and endearing names for his girls, The Proud One whose greatest happiness is sharing my happiest moments.

Happy Fathers day to you Daddy, in thanksgiving for all the little things you do that you don’t think I appreciate, the usually unwanted but always needed advice, your vicarious living through me; my successes are always sweeter for knowing you enjoy them far more than I do…..with the way you boast about even my tiniest achievements.



Thanks for our arguments; for listening to me loudly & angrily state my often flawed opinion…..and then promptly shutting me up with a clever argument or the sure-fire “So long as you live in my house…..”

Thank you for reminding me that regardless of who thinks otherwise, THE WORLD IS MINE....and everyone else is just visiting:-). For teaching me that I am worth much more than the sum of my body parts, important enough to set standards and expect them to be kept by anyone daring to (attempt the impossible &) replace you as ‘Mon Homme Numéro Un’. So, to Daddy, for making me believe impossible is nothing….I am Me,only because You are You.

Love always,

Your (prettiest & most likely to procure the highest bride price*watches her sisters frown angrily like the Biblical Gad & Nahptali*)Daughter.

I heard.....

"She doesn't look, to me, like somebody who doesn't have brain.....but yet..."-Larry Coldsweat one of my fave actors & the #39873 reason I love Nollywood! This quote literally, Made.My.Day. LOL!

But You Know Its Uncalled For.....

I tried not to talk about Oakland again. I tried. I really did….but the place and its inhabitants just continue to provide fodder for an active imagination! Its ridick! It’s like they send out a secret memo that I’m coming and EVERYONE should be on their most worrisome behaviour for my benefit. I mean, HOW else can you justify the foolery!??! It can’t possibly happen on the daily, no economy could survive with this foolishness….(hmmm, actuaaaaallllyyyy the American economy isn’t surviving…..I think I just might have found the answer to the recession. Clever Barbie. *beams*).

I understand that there are wondrous parts of the city of Oakland but lawdy lawwwwd, there are some nefariously ghettoised homes and homebodies in this place! I mean what business does a grown man have sitting without fear or favour on the train, staring around with nary a care in the world….and wearing butterscotch coloured Timberland boots with the Louis Vuitton logo printed in every free space on those size 42s?!!...Worse, this stylistically challenged fellow dared to authenticate this foolishness with a gold buckle around the calf of the ‘designer’ shoes proudly emblazoned with the print “Louis Vuitton, est 1852”. Negro Please! Aint nobody believing those shoes came from The Malletier himself when on the other side there is a little palmtree masquerading as the Timberland logo. *Shakes head* You need more people my friend because we (that is, THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!)aren’t buying what you’re selling, NEXT!

So today, I was on the train to my salon for a touch up(in the name of studying I have morphed into a mini Chantal Biya) when I encountered Mr Timb Vuitton, thinking this was the last straw, I got off the train at my stop and ventured, out into the street. Bad. Move. There she was, standing before me…. a paragon of nastiness. I am sorry but what are some people thinking when they step out of their houses?? "HMMMM, what can I wear today that will make people offended…??...theres that orange House of Dereon velour suit….with my blingy Apple Bottom denim face cap…..and that matching Baby Phat denim jacket with rhinestones?!?HA! I WILL KILL THEM TODAY!!!!”…This is the type of discussion I can only assume most of Oakland’s population have with the kneegrow in the mirror before hitting the streets to, appropriately, kill us.*Sigh*

So back to this paragon of nastiness, I’m waiting at the traffic lights, and this lady stands next to me in a tight bright yellow vest (bear in mind that this is a well endowed Team Chunk representative I speak of), tiny denim mini skirt (with rhinestones blinding passing drivers, Oh Kimora Lee when will you stop creating stupidly hazardous styles?! When?), yellow cycling shorts…*meditate on that, cycling shorts…with a lace trim, in yellow*, carrying a matching yellow bag and….no, im not finished, wearing yellow slippers with her long witchlike toenails, waaay longer than said slippers, actually grazing the granite as she walked!! I was weak. Oh and I forgot the multi-coloured face cap stylishly tilted to cover one eye! So you know, even if all the matching did not tell you, that this Badmamajama definitely got dressed in a conscious state, in the presence of a mirror and with every intention to come out looking like she did. At this moment I bow my head and ask…nay, BEG for direction and a cease to this foolishness. I mean it isn’t even 9.30am yet and buffoonery is already the order of the day!?!?!!No, please.

Anyways, I weakly cross the street and get to the salon only to find my hairdressers watch is set to Coloured Peoples Time today, I call her and she says she is ‘round the corner.’ Right. I sit there waiting in the shop with the only other occupant being the barber. Now, this salon is EXACTLY like the one in The Barber shop movie, all the workers have their personal chairs and just pay rent to Tha Boss…or Boss Lady in this case, a feisty Jamaican with red hair. So I sit quietly as the barber proceeds to talk to himself, loudly and argumentatively, while I’m sitting there wondering if I should fade before he decides to do something crazy.Before I can decide, these two men come into the salon and the three of them begin the most entertaining conversation I have heard in ages! One of them is explaining a recent shooting he survived and the others are dropping comments about their own 50cent style escapes from bullets (exaggerated numbers et al). In fact, Crazy Barber insists, his brother got shot in front of Ronnie’s liquor store and “That Niggah woulda been dead but he too fat to die! Shiiiiiiiiit, bullet got lost somewhere in the fat around his arteries”. OK, L.O.L…please which doctor told you that one?!

These men discussed everything under the sun from Lil Wayne “….dawg, he been doing hoe shit since he wuh 14!” to Kobe “….maaaaaaaaaaannnn he a hoe!” to the local…ahem, ‘Sperminator’ with his 6 babymommas and their epic plan to bring him to justice by arriving at his work place to collect his cheque. And his plan to elude them which turned out to be an epic fail, prompting the following words from Crazy Barber “ ….tell you this, hell hath NO fury like a black woman suspecting her kid’fatha be a trifling niggah, mm mm mm that niggah be playing like Lebron thinking he can fool 6 b*tchs at one time! And they ugly too. You know ugly women angry all tha time!” This met with much agreement and mutterings of “Oh I know!” and “...truth son, they some frog-faced sistahs! ”

All while I sat there trying to control my laughter and be invisible. In white jeans (the jury’s still out on them by the way. I felt so conspicuous wearing them, I’ve hated coloured trousers since the Feb 14th that I, not realizing the date, ventured out in red jeans looking like Cupids chokehold herself …don’t judge me, 2004 was one fashion faux pas after another).

FINALLY my hairdresser comes in. A really beautiful young woman (with the required tri-syllabic ghetto name though) and tells me that ‘…what had happened was…’ she had locked her keys in her car when she went to drop her kids at kindergarten. Her morning consisted of getting all the kids at the playground to "...help Deshawn and Nay Nay’s mummy look for her keys". That is, until she realized she’d locked them in the car. Apparently, one of the kids had to climb in through the sun roof to open the door for her.

Hard to believe but it seems someone’s morning was more ‘interesting’ than mine!

I heard.....

"Grace simply means that your prayers are ALWAYS precious to God." My pastor said this to me 2 weeks ago.....I love this statement so much, it just gives me assurance & peace.:-)

Time Keeper.

Either I have the best friends in the world or my jaded parents were wrong when they insisted humans are inherently wicked and that we eat nothing at certain houses we visited as kids due (apparently) to the voluminous number of evil souls masquerading as kind aunties and benevolent uncles. Regardless of the warnings, I was one of those children that always ate heartily at every house I was invited to,to my mothers eternal annoyance! And I still turned out normal(SAVE YOUR COMMENTS!!!I am perfectly normal!lol). Long story short, I love my FRRRIIIIENNNDDSS!!!!

So, I have decided to take my studying back to the old school, I mean boarding school Nigerian style. Waking up at ungodly hours and sleeping at times when only Queens of the night are conducting their stroll in a bid for pecuniary rewards. All in the name of studying. Yes, it’s a Pass-The-Bar-Or-Die trying diet I am operating on! I have now gotten a few of my friends here who really want to do the same but the thought of waking up at dusk had these wonderful anglo-saxons looking at me like I’d morphed into one of the said Night Queens. I have encouraged them with the use of serious ‘Obamagery’, throwing round words like HOPE, YES WE CAN, GREATNESS etc….I even had to draw from the dictionary of Miracle of Fire Ministries and I began to throw around some “WE CAN DEFEAT THE ENEMY!!!!!’s.

Anyways so all of this has made me the time keeper of my group of students. I am now that most hated of positions in secondary school; The Bell Ringer. This person could very easily have been the leper in Biblical times who walked around with a bell screaming “UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN” 'cause that's exactly how you were made to feel after ringing that bell waking everyone up…You came back to the hostel to blurry eyed-side-eyes being thrown at you, evil mutterings towards you by disgruntled seniors and full-on cussing yo’ momma and entire family out by the junior who dare not breathe a word aloud.

But I digress, as the Time Keeper of the Bar Class of 09 (a title I have conferred on myself as a true Nigerian...you know we love to confer all sorts of irrelevant and foolish but self-important titles on ourselves). It is my duty to wake everyone up (and be cussed out). And my wonderful friends who are currently across the 'pond' *sob* and in a very different time zone were asked to be my human chronometers after I verbally and physically assaulted my alarm clock for having the bloody audacity…imagine the nerve of this non-living being!....to wake me up in the middle of my saving Kanye from himself....

My friends took the task very seriously, dilligently waking me up with ‘You need to study’…..’You can do it’…..and of course the always helpful ‘MY FRIEND! ARE YOU CRAZY?! WHY STILL SLEEPING!!!?!?!”…..*sigh* If you don’t have people around you who wake you up with laughter, I suspect you are wasting time on this earth oh!

I heard.....

"You look at her and all you can think is "Damn, thats a BIIIG b*tch"- 'Miss' Jay on Kimora Lee. LOL!!!

Confidence. And no, I'm not talking about your housemaid.

Seriously though what is it with African housemaids and the use of virtues or Olde English names as their given names?(Yes Griselda Igwe, I’m talking to you. Patience Iniobong stop laughing there like this doesnt apply to you too!) A German friend of mine, gave birth to a baby and called her Clara….*long-suffering sigh* I was hard pressed keeping myself from telling this wonderful couple that that name is reserved for maids and secretaries where I come from. Amongst the coos of “Awwww beautiful name for a baby girl”, a “Wow, got Maid?” would have been rather inappropos.

You know, I think a lot. When normal humans say that, they mean they think of deeply useful things that may benefit humanity…well, me, myself, I just think a lot. While I’m staring at my text book trying to make sense of the criminal procedure words swimming across the page, my mind is doing The Locomotion. Recently I thought about Beyonce’s song ‘Ego’. I love that song and all it stands for…I mean how can you not?!?! At one point she just sits down and proceeds to RAIN praises on herself. I love it. Pre-crack Whitney told us ‘Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.’ Truth.

Infact at this point I have to drop the pearls of wisdom gleaned from the Bastidious One himself, Kat Williams. He says “NO ONE should be able to make you lose your self esteem…shh******ttttt, its esteem of your damn self!!”

Growing up I was encouraged to love myself, in fact I never ever in my life envisioned there was anything I couldn’t do if I decided to put my mind to it. I was talkin to a guy at school one day, now turns out when I first met this boy I introduced myself and proceeded to tell him he could just call me Fabulous for short whenever the feeling hit him…and I assured him it would. Very soon. Lol, I was just fooling around as usual. Fast forward to months of being friends and one day we are talking about our families. When I mention how much pride my father takes in his girls and how much encouragement he always gives us…Obama’s 'Yes We Can' slogan was stolen from my house …..this my friend didn’t say a word as I spoke. When I finally realized I was soliloquizing, I ask him why the silence and he says, “NOW I understand why you think you are so fabulous!” Lol!! I was chagrined to learn he didn’t think I was fabulous *hiss* the way he said it like my claim of Fabulosity is limited to my own view of myself!

I think I’m a rather big deal, is this wrong? Like is it wrong to believe that you yourself are so great and to expect a similar standard in a significant other? Because people say all the time “Oh women have standards that are too high that is why there are so many single women. Or “There are many good men but the women can’t see them cos they have such high standards”. I mean I don’t know about that seeing as my application to the Good Men Census Board was rejected. Damn recession. Hopefully my application to the Association Against Salacious Sugar Daddies(AASS’D) will err on the successful side.*shrugs*

The women on the other hand of this debate….well according to the Essence magazine at my hairdressers (a salon called Drastic Changes….am I a glutton for punishment or what???) tells me that people only think that there are many good men out there BEcause when you "….grade on a curve steep enough even mediocrity begins to look amazing."

Errrrr, I don’t really know about that, I’m just saying is it right to think you are an outstanding-well rounded person or is that a sin of the heart like pride? Is it even a sin at all? Or is God looking down and nodding slowly in a Snoop-Dogg like manner thinking “Yuuuuup, go ‘head girrrrrl, whoop-whoop!!!” Its confusing.

P.S:I just read this post and I have to say, is this not the height?!?! To be confused by ones innate fabulousness. LOL @ my damn self!!!LOL!!!..... “Its tooooo biiiigggg, its too wiiiddddeeee, its too stroooonnnggg….Love my huge ego.”



After a much-needed hiatus, I have to say I'm back in love with Kanye West. Yes, I am aware of his certified status as a diva-dude(potentially the worst thing a negroid male may be in some circles) but I'm certified its all an act...and that I am the answer to his question. Yes, its that bloody Ego again.

I heard.....

Perplexed Principal to John: "John, the space between your intelligence and the things you do is just too wide!".....I heard this in a central London school where I was turtoring some kids, I laughed myself home that day.

THIS foolishness right here.....

So when I speak about Oakland as the place where decency goes to die, everyone thinks I'm taking the piss.....Urban jury, I invite you bear witness to this unadulterated foolishness displayed by grown ass folk.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJSyKiLVh4s
[Ok the video has been removed but id you so desire, type in 'Oakland Salon Fight' on google/You Tube and cringe at middle aged women shamelessly wrestling]....

...And all because of some kneegroe...some broke-ass, sperm-spreading-numerous-babymama-having, lotion-immune-probably-ashy, kool-aid sipping, durag-and-Timbs-wearing kneegroe. Just plain NASTYdamus!

How do I know the man in question is all these things? Our wise forefathers say "If you lie with dogs, you will get up with fleas." Thats why the mantra of flea-infested women remains "ALL MEN ARE DOGS!!"

LOL! I really have no idea what the last sentence means but it was fun to write. OK, my Evidence book won't read itself. Au revoir!

Opinions

A while ago, Miss California was caught chewing on her pretty pink toes for having the audacity, the cheek, the nerve *swoons*, to open her rouge coloured lips to state that IN HER OPINION, the way she was raised, marriage is a sanctified union between a man and a woman. And all hell broke loose. Literally. The foot in mouth moment led to the proverbial 'Much Ado About Nuffink'. Seriously, I saw this news on CNN. C bloody double N! Like WTH….is there NO bad news in the world today?!?

In the following weeks people no let the girl ‘drink water drop cup!’ All of a sudden she became the center of all right winged bats, intent on using her as the poster child for righteousness and all liberals determined to crucify her as the anti-christ. I didn’t even know the details of this epic battle, I assumed she had cussed perez hilton’s momma out all while wearing a plastified smile and waving stiffly at the crowd…which would have been faaaaaaaaaar more entertaining and educative….with the way he reacted. But all she did was state an opinion. That was different. That was her own. In answer to a question asking what SHE thought about a particular issue. The seriousness of the uproar that followed, boggles the mind. I mean when, truly, did a blonde, beauty pageant contestant’s (not even queen’s, mind you!) opinions become gospel…???Hell, when if ever, did we as a world pay attention to beauty pageants unless to show our kids examples of the kind of person we are actively striving to prevent them from becoming by sending them to school!

Its really interesting to me how liberals especially in Crazy California are so quick to call everyone who doesn’t agree with them 'closed minded' and 'conservative' but are the first to bleat about how open-minded they themselves are. *Sings*Ebony and Irony live together in perfect harmony.

Favourite Things

Variation On The Word Sleep

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower,the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

-Margaret Atwood

I LOVE THIS POEM. I have to find a way to incorporate it into my wedding vows!:-)

Ridamndiculous!

Oakland, Oakland, Oak. Land. Mm-Mm-Mm. What to say??? Where to start??? My adventures in the west coast of America would have been incomplete without a trip to the notorious Oakland area. On my first ever trip to this geographical location, I was accosted by a man in a T-Pain inspired top hat attempting to chat me up with a mouth full of what I was forced to conclude was aluminum foil masquerading as ‘Grillz’. Oh Hip-Hop, our children will judge you. Harshly. My short sojourn in the land of plenty, ‘God’s own land’ in the words of many immigrants, has revealed several mind numbing truths to me; I’m starting to believe that America is really Fools’ Paradise and I'm beginning to doubt the potency of the American dream, but I digress from today’s tale biko, that discussion is a serious matter for another day and maybe another place too.

We resolutely forge ahead. So, after bar class, I am standing at the bus stop. Waiting for my chariot to drive (do you drive a chariot? Or ride it? Or race it??) me home. Due to construction work at school we have all been forced to take classes for the bar in Oakland. This plan sucks, in fact I have to borrow a Nigerian slang I hate and declare that this plan “IS NOT BUNZ!!!!’ Who thought it would be a clever idea to have a whole group of Anglo-saxons crashing into one of the dingiest and dodgiest areas around San Francisco bay to take classes daily. Not the cleverest of ideas. I am black and even I don’t feel safe!

But I digress, standing at the bus stop awaiting my chariot. A certified crack-head comes up to me and proceeds to chat me up….[chai! see my life!]....How do I know he was a crack head? The Harlem-shake-neck-twisting-movements coupled with the scratching, kind of tipped me off. He stood there twisting his head and shoulders like he was listening to an invisible ipod.*hiss* Anyways, he goes on to tell me that he is turning 50 this year and is looking for a ‘wifey’. *le sigh* I proceed to inform him I am not a day over 16. He quickly asked when my birthday was and upon providing a fake month, he leered and happily told me its only a few months before I become an “adult of 17 then we can….”. YUCKITY YUCK!!! [R. Kellys of the world should be jailed]. I proceed to ignore him after favoring him with a dangerous ‘you-disgusting-amoeba- wither-and-die-post-haste' look. Then I turn around and pretend a deep interest in the granite. After a few minutes of talking to the back of my head, I hear him turn around and utter a scream!!!

Now in these here parts, on these grimy Oakland streets, someone screams and I automatically do 2 things, dive to the ground in a bid for cover or run as fast as my Veet-enabled pins can carry me! No stopping to check for the proverbial ‘shi-shi’. So Crackfiend screams and I’m about Usain Bolt my way from there but as I turn around, dear lawd, I too screamed..……in laughter!!!!

Alas urban jury, lo and behold, before my very eyes was a real-life pimp!! Live.In.Living.Colour! The jokes just wrote themselves from that point on! This fake-ass-gangsta-pseudo-pimp was garbed in the most entertaining outfit. ALL GREEN. Green. Top to toe. Every sickly shade of green you can imagine was on this clowns’ body as he marched down the street looking as proud as sin.*sigh* He had a dark green hat…complete with feather, mint green shoes with the matching mint trousers, olive shirt, dark green jacket AND to make it rain on you kneegroes and gentlefolks, this brother had a light green pimped out cane!!!!MAKE OF THAT WHAT YOU WILL!!!!!looooool!!!! I ALMOST DIED OF LAUGHTER! And of course trust that the scream emitted by the 50 year old Crack-Don who wanted to “Hola at me right quick” was a scream of welcome to his friend Veggie Pimp. Mon Dieu! America the great!

I heard.....

Mother: "Be content, all fingers are not created equal."
Son: "Yes but why must I have the shortest finger?!?!"....Reason #36792 why I love Nollywood.

Same Litter, Different City

Another bar preparation class and we are rounding up on Torts. Tort teacher is a bloody joker which makes the entire process much easier, thank God. Today, he says something that made me laugh AND think (this is huge because such mutually exclusive factors; laughing and thinking, rarely ever simultaneously exist…especially not in a law lecture. So gold star for you, Mr. Torts Teacher). He was talking about The Tort of Outrageous Conduct…..Bet you didn’t think that existed right? Well it does, so stop terrorising old ladies as they attempt to frustrate drivers by slouching snail-paced across the busy city streets. [Random side-note, American tort law almost works like what I understand of a civil law system, which is not much, but it seems they really try to cover every potential eventuality. It seems impossible but they have gone surprisingly far in addressing almost every possible situation that I can think about!! Cool!!!! iNerd]. But as usual, I digress.

I was talking about my torts bar prep class. So the teacher is this Al-Pacino…..actually I’m not sure who Al-Pacino is and I’m too lazy to google’mage but he sounds like a Brooklyn-born-Italian-raised-The Sopranos-main-character-looking- guy, which is exactly what my torts teacher is. Anyhooooooo, as a true new Yorker [Brooklyn native], my teacher says he thinks The Tort of Outrageous Conduct is rather daft. Why? Cos nothing really qualifies as ‘outrageous conduct’ to a New Yorker. This made me smile because I think that shameless, slightly misplaced pride resonates with almost everyone that lives/lived in a big city. According to him, the unofficial official motto for New Yorkers is “Forget About It!”

He said a typical New Yorker (synonymous in my mind with a Londoner/Lagosian/Parisiene etc) might be mid-commute, sitting on the subway and opposite him, calm as a baby whose milk has been spiked with rum by her tired mother, a fellow commuter sits, sipping his Pepsi…..from a severed human head. At this point, a lesser mortal may jump and burst into dramatics….”NOT I” said the cat…as does the seasoned commuter. Our commuter sees pseudo-voodoo king calmly sipping and potentially contemplating whose head looks nice enough to consume and as a true city warrior, the legendary busy-street dweller just, calmly, flips her newspaper/book/changes the song on her ipod….(to something appropriate like Ad Mortem by some Franz Ferdinand type).

Nothing fazes a city slicker,. After witnessing all sorts of barbarism the likes of which is reserved for display on public transportation, you get off the tube or ‘Danfo’ and with a shake of your neatly coiffed hair and a slightly irritated mutter of “Crazy Lagosians/Bloody stupid Londoners/Possesed New Yorkers!” , you exit at your stop….traipsing off to compare tales with your friends on the madness of city dwellers….and getting ready to board the very same train/bus tomorrow. Because seriously, it’s not that serious! *Le Sigh* I miss living in London…..true talk, my friend almost sat on a syringe on the tube today!!! *Shakes neatly coiffed hair *

I love cities, I’m allergic to nature so concrete over trees any day baybay. Not sure what I’m doing in leafy Cali just yet. The randomness of big cities never fails to amuse my soul. Quick story, 2 weeks ago I was in NY. Strolling down the street in my glorified glory, Diva Dust billowing at my feet as birds stopped mid-chirp to bask in the ambience of my fabulosity, LOL, a friend was by my side when we got approached by this ragamuffin looking hombre. The kind that just makes you re-evaluate yourself and prompts questions like “ Oh lord, what is this invisible scent that I have that ‘Dawgs’ like this ‘Kat’ in front of me think its perfectly ok to walk up to me and begin ‘a-conversating’?!?!?!”

So this dog-cat[I MUST cut BET from my diet, when grown men begin to refer to each other as domestic pets then you know the apocalypse is upon us], asks us for our names as we’re walking. Taking the piss (because I figure the universe must be having a laugh at my expense, I might as well play along) I say my friend is Gonorrhea and I’m Syphilis. He asks, “Tiffany??”…causing me to shout “SY-PHEEEEE-LLLIS”…on the crowded street. He looks upset and spends the next 2 minutes telling us to stop playing as we insist those were the names we were christened with. After about 5 minutes of ‘conversating’ with oxygen, as we strolled past him on our merry way, he stops in frustration and screams down the busy, crowded NY street “OK THEN, SEE YOU LATER GONORREAH AND SYPHILIS”…to much laughter and stupid sly smiles from people around. Slightly embarrassed but determined to have the last word, I scream back “ Goodbye AIDS!!”. Ah, good times, I heart NYC…..and life before bar prep.

I heard.....

"The best way I can describe it is incestuous....I love her like she is my blood. But, with the intensity of lust, infatuation & romance." A commenter on verysmartbrothers.com defining the 'big' L.

Epistle to The Left

"The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
-Funeral Blues, W.H. Auden (1 of my fave poems & poets)



Today, the news said that a plane is missing. A plane full of people ,a huge object floating through a traffic less sky, has suddenly vanished. A passenger plane with someone’s baby, a daughter’s daddy, a brother’s sister, a wife’s husband, a girlfriend’s friend friend’s friend. I saw the news and all I could think was “Uh-oh, someone’s about to have the rug suddenly pulled from under her. I thought, “…someone is about to hate God with everything inside him....and perhaps someone, is about to find God in a way she never knew.” All reactions to death.

Death. It comes really without warning. Someone on that plane, when she clicked on her seat belt was only thinking of ‘du pain et la beurre’ she would be ‘la consuming’ in Paris. It did not even cross her mind that THIS plane, this very one whose seat she just adjusted, would not indeed reach La Chez de Baguette without a quick pit-stop at death.

Death. No one really knows when exactly it’s going to come. The worst kind is the unexpected youthful-not-ill kind of death that doesn’t allow you prepare. It just arrives and you’re left looking like a black girl with a bad weave strolling round London on a windy evening in March, without a comb. In other words, looking electric shocked & wildly crazy. I mean, one moment the person is next to you and the next she is gone forever. FOR-EVER. And you haven’t told her all the things you want to say. You haven’t finished teasing her, or hugging her, or lying to her, or crying with her, or making her laugh, or telling her how proud you are of her, or stealing her yet unbought clothes, or….

You just haven’t finished living…with her. And now they tell you she is leaving…..that she has in fact, left. But all you can think is “She couldn’t have left already…because she holds a bit of my soul with her and I need it”. You think the apocalypse must be upon us, that the world must come to an end before this evening or else one of the sharper edges of your broken heart will find a way to kill you. You suspect, somehow, that you will not be able to go on. How can you with a broken heart? But you must. Why? Because you don’t have a choice.

Very soon, you will watch the news, if you haven’t already, and see that GM’s bankruptcy is greater news than the loss of your baby. Can you beat that shizzle???? Some company losing money is important BUT at this moment, nothing else registers. All you can think is that the entire world did not pause to empathise with your sadness, to celebrate the amazing person your friend was, to mourn the extinguishing of the light of your brother’s star. The world is not angry at the unfairness that took away your love and leaves your heart bleeding, in fact, toddlers are still giggling in the park at this very moment. Worse, a 12 year old girl in Indianapolis is crying over the ‘love’ of her life who has broken her heart today by sitting with Marylyn Green (who witnesses say has began to sprout growths that look annoyingly like boobs) at lunch. And you just don’t understand. How can the world go on like they don’t know the end is here?? You are probably watching the news and wondering “ Why isn’t that newscaster out looking for my child?!”… The GM boss is talking but all you can think of is “WHY ISNT HE OUT LOOKING FOR MY HUSBAND?!!?!! What could be more important AT.THIS.TIME??”

At this moment, it feels like nothing will be right with the world again. You don’t believe the world will carry on as normal, I mean how can it, when an essential life to its existence, to your existence has been quenched??! But the world will go on, because no one is indispensable to it, it owes no one and it owns no one. And you, you too will survive and grow and indeed go on. So your life as you know it has changed and the future looks like this: ....inspiring feelings of dread, pain, anxiety, fear, worry, anger, hurt, disappointment, cyniscism[….yes, just that ONE face….say 'NO' to surgery, people!!!]. So your life may never be the one you had before…but it might be a new one, one where you are no longer afraid of death; ‘cause you have seen her do her worst and lived to testify, you might find in your new life some of your shackles of fear are loosened and you feel stronger and brave enough to handle any challenge. In your new life, you my friend are legend, you are an inspiration and more confident of your abilities by virtue of living-through tragedy. While this is no replacement to the loss suffered, this is just encouragement that IT.IS.NOT.OVER. You are strong and will now look any challenge in the face and with a mean mug, a palm full of Diva Dust, God-given peace that passeth all understanding and a calm spirit and say “Bring. It.”

In that way, you dear friend, have cheated death.