I don’t know why I felt like writing about this…maybe it’s because I feel a few of us might have experienced something similar in the past. People’s reactions vary when they are accused of doing something they didn’t. Some flare up, some argue, some ignore it and some just give in maybe due to fear (if its coming from a huge mo’fo), uncertainty or just plain forgetfulness. I tend to get a lil’ heated when I get accused falsely and I don’t blame anyone who feels the same way.
About 3 weeks ago I popped into a fast-food joint and asked the bored looking sales assistant to give me a Lemonade drink(which was called ‘TEEM’). There were other brands in the refrigerator but I distinctly remember telling to give me TEEM as she hesitated to choose the right one. To my surprise she brought out two lemonade drinks and started to run the till. I looked about me just to make sure I didn’t come with anyone else and then I asked her she gave me 2 drinks instead of 1. She said I told her so!
Somewhere between ‘TEEM’ and opening the fridge this deaf lady heard me say ‘TWO’. And that was how a trivial argument started. She wasn’t planning to charge for 2 drinks but she was adamant that I said I want 2 drinks. I told her she heard what she wanted to hear. Perhaps she wanted one for herself and this was her sly why of trying to get it. She goofed!
Another similar case (of a milder nature) happened yesterday while I was preparing to write a professional exam. I was sitting at a desk marked ’004′ which was my examination number. A fair, pretty young lad strolled up to me, paused and But then said to me, ‘You’re in my seat’. I didn’t even flinch because of how wrong I knew she was. I kept calm and just asked her (nicely) to show me her examination card. She handed it over and then I read out to her really slowly ’104′. Her embarrassment and scurrying off was enough pleasure for me. She goofed too!
Now I have to reassure any potential (female) readers that I’m not a misogynist and that men goof too. I just didn’t recall any similar examples at the time I wrote this piece!
I LOVE YOU MUM (see! I love women 
)
…is another man’s treasure? Well I’ve got a Nokia 7900 Prism that says ‘NO!’ – thats if you want to keep beating the life out of it everytime it freezes when a message comes through it. I can vaguely remember how I strolled into the Nokia shop barely a year ago, coughed out N70,000 (which is over £200 or over $300) and was one of the ‘privileged’ few to be pouncing around town with a phone which got quite a lot of ‘Ooh! Nice phone!’, ‘It’s unique!’, ‘I haven’t seen this before!’, (Hindsight – thanks to you gawkers I didnt return the phone sooner to get a refund).
Why would you be crazy enough to come to Nigeria? I mean just look at that crazy colour scheme on all those unnecessary number of states (currently 36 when 12 would do!). I see popular searches like ‘relocate to nigeria’ being used to get to this site and I can only wonder ‘What’s chasing them?’ Well I can tell you that Lagos (the former capital of Nigeria where I reside) is like a metropolis – commercial and bursting with business. It is increasingly becoming cosmopolitan too, with Brits, Asians, Chinese, South Africans and Americans on the scene. I’d say Lagos is like New York but with a lot more black people and a hell of a lot more poor people. Sure we’ve got that minority who are stupendously rich. Then we’ve got the majority who are stupendously poor. Then you’ve got people in the middle of this spectrum…people like me…who persist in applying the principles of becoming rich but end up feeling stupendously…stupid. Anyway, there have been a number of job cuts since the recession first surfaced the newspapers but now there are recent cases of pay cuts. Banks are not so willing to lend to customers who may sometimes even have collateral which triples the requested loan amount. Electricity supply has gone from fluctuating to weak to virtually non-existent in the last few months. Owning or renting a generator is a must. You will need a car to get around town, a Nigerian guide who has lived here for at least 10years, a dose of anti-malaria drugs, light clothing (not too warm), and a valid form of identification on you at all times (e.g. driver’s licence, passport or national ID card). Get acquainted with some of the local lingo so that you don’t stand out like a sore thumb. If you can’t fake a typical Nigerian accent (which sounds like a fatigued loud-mouth whose been woken out of a deep sleep at 3am, pretty much) then try not to sound like a JJC (Johnny Just Come) or you will get duped sooner or later. Get a mobile phone and start with any of the pay-as-you-go packages – all the networks are just as good (and bad) as each other. When in doubt, don’t ask a crazy Nigerian a.k.a mad man for any assistance. He could flip you over a bridge or push you into high-speed traffic or something. There are so many crazy Nigerians out there – I’m the real McCoy 
1.37pm – As I sit here in this corporate prison, choked by my own Finelli necktie and nauseated by this cologne that I use predominantly for this ‘Five to Nine’ (No typo – I wake up 5am and get back by 9pm), I already dread the impending road congestion parade and the utter disregard of the highway code by notorious ‘motorpsycholists’ (Again, no typo).
Women – a mystery to some, a weakness to many (men and lesbians, that is). I too have fallen prey to the clutches of the female species. I vaguely remember one particular woman who locked me down for about 9months. I felt trapped. I wanted to break free but at the same time I wanted to stay. I was so confused that I had to have a third party separate us. I actually cried my eyes out but today we’re still in touch and on good terms.
This pic is the way I remembered Michael Jackson as a child and will always remember him. He’s the reason why I would sing or hum a tune in the shower every morning. He’s the reason why I still keep pairs of trousers that have outgrown me. He’s the reason why I body-pop whenever I’m in front of a mirror (alone). He’s the reason why I moonwalk whenever I’m on a slippery surface (again, alone). He’s the reason why most of the CDs in my car don’t get as much airplay on a daily basis. He’s the reason I’ve become a fan of Usher, Chris Brown, Ginuwine, Sisco and Justin Timberlake. He’s the reason I have a romantic, imaginative and sensitive side. He’s the reason I’m writing this impromptu post at 6am in the morning even though I should be getting ready for work. He’s probably the reason why it’s been raining non stop since 4am this morning…and perhaps the reason why it still looks dark outside. He’s the reason why the world is in mourning today. His performances were electrifying and his legacy is unprecedented. For this and generations to come he is a music legend, a dancing maestro, a philanthropist, an icon of our time. He is and will always be remembered as the KING OF POP. Michael, I salute you…I miss you…and I’ll see you Neverland… 
I was going to post something else but just 3hrs ago I saw such a powerful 
Ladies and Gentlemen, an invasion is upon us! In the 21st century a new evil has befallen planet earth. The shape-shifting creatures of the damned lurk into your very households whilst you watch the news, sip your tea, and pick your nose. These venemous scum leach unto the married couples of our time and cause havoc and destruction in a systemmatic manner. They are more commonly known as… Homewreckers
What’s in a kiss? Saliva? Sure! That’s if it’s a wet kiss. But if your partner has gum problems or uses a very soft toothbrush then there’s probably some blood to go with that saliva (Urgh!). If you’ve just had dinner before that kiss then there’s probably a whole bunch of food particles swimming through a bloody saliva stream all the way down your oesophagus (okay, stay with me here). If your partner has protruding teeth then there are probably some braces to go with that slimy blood pool. Thinking about dry-kissing instead, eh? I don’t blame you.
that there was a madman on Third Mainland Bridge in Lagos who kept shouting to himself everyday. He was shouting out the number ‘Thirteen!’ repeatedly. Motorists used to drive past him but one curious passenger asked a driver in the bus to stop so he could ask the madman what he was shouting ‘Thirteen’ all day for. The driver obliged and parked to one side of the bridge. The passenger got down and approached the madman with caution but he kept some distance. He asked the madman, ‘Why are you shouting Thirteen?’ The madman stopped shouting and politely answered to the passenger’s surprise, ‘It’s a secret but come and I will tell you.’ The passenger saw no harm in this and was anxious to finally unravel this mystery once and for all.
I went gaga over 
scary). Anyway, when I first heard the song I thought she was saying poke-her-face! It even got more saucy when she went ‘p-p-p-poke her face, p-p-p-poker her face, mum mum mum ma – What! now you want your mum to do it! Oh boy. And then I thought ‘How vulgar!’ Poke her face with what? Definitely not lipgloss. I like the way the expression gets you thinking…I mean, if someone you offended suddenly snapped and called you Poker face then I don’t think you’d be thanking ‘em for the compliment. On the other hand, if you play poker then you’d probably just think the expression is a kind of face you find difficult to read or intepret. Hmm…it just occurred to me that the lizard in my header for this page has a poker face that is pretty confusing. I think he’s happy 
