What's up y'all? To the few people who still check on my blog, wetin dey now? I know I said I was back last week, but it's been hard to sit at my laptop for more than a couple of seconds in the past couple of weeks men. With the blazing heat, beautiful women and full time jollofing in Yankee, I haven't been able to bring myself to type tory for una men, but no vex.
I can't front; a few months ago I would have found the time to update no matter where in the world I was. It's just not the same anymore though. It's not that I don't enjoy blogging anymore, it's just that everytime I get on I realise how much everything has changed around here. Alaye's gone for good, Taurean Minx is now a full time photoblogger, Chameleon doesn't update as much, Bella and Idemili went private, and Bimbylads puts up novel excerpts now. I love you Bimbs, but I miss the razz old Bimbylads of back in the day. Damn, things done changed!
Okay, I don vent finish. Man, I've been having an amazing holiday o. I hadn't been back to the states since I moved to England, and I've fallen in love with this place all over again. In fact I wonder how I survived in London for a year. Enjoyment dey Yankee, kai!
I've spent a couple of weeks in my old city just reliving my college days. These Yankee babes no fit change. Lord have mercy. I don't know if it's the food or the weather, but God definitely spent extra time on these girls men. I've been getting my Denzel on HARD over here o, in fact I wish I could give you the full gist but this is a PG blog.
Before you start talking long story, Fineboy is single at the moment o. So allow me. AND NO QUESTIONS PLEASE! Gbe boruns. But on the real, I understand why people stick with one partner for years and years. The number of weres that you meet when you're dating eh? Kai. I met some chick on my first friday out here, let's call her Giselle. Correct looking babe o, she looked kinda like a black Giselle Bundchen. No lie. We had a couple of phone conversations and hooked up one sunday night to get dinner. All through the date, the babe just kept on talking about her baby Roscoe. Roscoe this. Roscoe that. Roscoe's so cute. He's so smart, he's so discerning, I love him. Blah blah blah.
Ask me who Roscoe be o? Her dog. I said na wa. I just kept nodding my head like I was really interested in the damn mutt. She now told me that she broke up with her last boyfriend because the guy didn't respect Roscoe. Chei. I wasn't about to act like I didn't send the dog o. Na so I begin ask questions.
"How old is Rossy?"
"What's his favorite game?"
"Does he do tricks?"
The babe was getting excited o. She was really describing the dog and all the "funny little things he does." Me I was bored outta my mind but I no wan eff up the chances of booty now, ah ah! So I played along o.
She said, "We should hang out at my crib tomorrow. So Roscoe and Princess can get used to having a man around the house. I think you're gonna be their new daddy."
Oloshi.
Na your own papa go be dog daddy.
I didn't say that o. I just smiled and said, "Oh of course."
Kai, things we do for yansh.
I drove up to her apartment the following night. The whole time I was thinking she'd have the dogs leashed on her patio or balcony or something. Men, not so o. These two little devil animals were running up and down her apartment. When she opened the door, I was stunned. They were tiny! I don't know if I missed the part when she said they were chihuahas, but these morrafuckas were ugly as hell.
Na so I siddon on top couch o. See dog hair everywhere. Na wa o. I thought to myself "E be like say na this one and dog go dey sleep on top bed." Damn. The female one just appeared from nowhere and landed on my lap, wagging its tail like crazy. See disrespect. My first instinct was to slap this rat-lookalike off my lap, but the chick sat down next to me, smiling.
"Aww, how sweet. She likes you."
I was cringing men. E be like say the dog dey smell sef. The dog now started coming closer to me, licking and all sorts. Ah ah! This dog no fear sha.
"She wants a kiss."
From who? E no go better for dog and owner men.
Ah ah! I was just imagining this happening in Nige. Them never born any dog to come and be standing on it's oga's lap. The slap wey e go chop ehn? I kept trying to avoid the thing's tongue, I swear it was just licking my hand and everything. I wan throw up men. When Giselle got up to go get something from her bedroom, if you see the way I threw the dog off me ehn? Americans don crase.
We ended up ordering pizza, and when it came, na so the dogs begin dey dance o. Wagging their tails and everything. I was thinking in my head, "Why are these ones celebrating? You're not getting shishi out of this grub men." Giselle put the pizza on the center table and opened the box and omo, both dogs just jumped on the couch and started staring at the box. Ah ah. Me I quickly pulled out a big slice and bit into it, because I wan make sure say I chop at least one before one of these ugly bingos begin put tongue on top my pizza.
Giselle- No baby, you can't have the crust. Okay here's a piece of beef.
She took off a chunk of ground beef and put it in Princess' mouth. The dog took it and licked her finger. This morrafucking girl took that same hand and rubbed it on the couch! Yeeeee! I couldn't believe it. Roscoe started standing upright on its hind legs begging for grub too. She took off another piece and put it into his mouth, then she licked her finger.
Jesus Christ! God forbid say I go kiss this one. Emi ko. Not me.
The babe left the room to answer her phone one time and I saw that Roscoe dog going towards the box.
Me- Kai! Kurombe!
Roscoe- Growl
Me (whispering)- My friend gerraway from there!!!
Roscoe- Grrrr.....
Me (whispering)- You're growling at me. You think you can fight me?
I kicked the morrafucka away from the box. It yelped and came back. I gave it another nice Jackie Chan kick and it rolled to the side of the sofa. Bastard dog.
My people, please don't think I'm cruel to animals o. In fact I love dogs, but these ones no get respect men. When Giselle came back, the dog started barking loudly. I didn't even answer the were, I just kept on chopping my pizza.
Giselle- Aww, what's wrong Ros? You know you can't eat the crust because of the gluten. Okay here's a piece of beef baby.
I looked at her. In my mind, I was just thinking, "Plus you o, plus your dogs o, all of you don crase." Who talks to dogs like they're human beings? Come dey explain diet for them again.
Me- Why can't they eat the crust?
Giselle- Because gluten's bad for dogs' digestive systems. They can't eat bread.
Me- All dogs?
Giselle- Yeah. Dogs don't eat bread.
Mumu. My dogs in Nige dey chop bread, egg, yam, stew, anything. In fact I remember one dog that Akinzo had like that, Muritala. This dog used to eat cake with icing. I swear.
Men, when we finished the pizza, I noticed that the chick didn't even wash her hands. She now wanted to be hugging me and kissing on me. See the way I exited the place ehn? Nonsense.
The whole dog experience took my mind back to Nigeria. Like we love our pets and stuff in Nige, but dogs no dey sit on top couch inside house o. In fact, remember how houseboys and drivers in Nige always feel like you're giving your dogs too much luxury? I don't know what it is about drivers in particular, but men, all our dogs have always hated one driver or the other.
I remember one time as a little kid, I was sitting outside talking to one of our drivers, Baba Alao, and eating a piece of grilled chiken at the same time. One of our dogs, Boxer ran up and grabbed the piece of chicken and ran off. He did it so fast that it startled me and I just burst out laughing. I looked at Baba Alao. His mouth was wide open for like 10 seconds.
Baba Alao- Aja yen gba sha? (That dog grabbed it?)
Me- Hehe...
Baba Alao- O n rerin? (You're laughing?)
The man looked like he was about to burst into tears. His tribal marks and round head made his open mouth look even more animated.
Me- It was funny how he took it o.
Baba Alao- Ko ma ni da fun aja yen o. Odindi sikin lo gba lowo yon ba yi. (God punish that dog o. The thing grabbed a whole piece of chicken!)
Me- Haha...
Baba Alao- Olorun lo yo pe owo mi ko lo ti gba. Mi ba ku si l'orun! Olosi aja. (He's lucky he didn't grab it from me! I would have died on his neck! Morrafucking dog!)
I couldn't even continue gisting with Baba Alao. The guy was obviously pained. I don't know what happened after that, but everytime Boxer knew Baba Alao was in the area, he would bark his head off. Baba Alao sef didn't ever look at the dog in the face after that. Everytime he came in to work and Boxer started barking, Mr. Morris our steward would say, "Alao, Boxer dey greet you." Baba Alao wouldn't even look at the dog when he said,
"Ko ni da fuon, iwo aja buruku yi."
Damn he took that ish personal.
I'll holla in a bit!
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Fineboy's not dead
It's been a minute my people. I turned in my paper two weeks ago, and have pretty much been busy since, preparing for my trips and now jetsetting. What's good though blogville? Abeg make una no vex, I've been bad, very bad, in fact downright irresponsible. But it's been a really busy time and it's been hard to fit blogging in to be honest.
To all those people who sent e-mails asking where I was, thanks o, I'm still alive. And to all of una wey dey abuse my papa and mama because of blog, na wa for u o. It's all love though. Meanwhile where's everyone? Most of my favourite bloggers are gone, and I'm starting to wonder if the whole hype has died and people have finally gotten bored of the whole blogging thing. Make una come back o, abeg.
Let me just get situated....I dey come...the devil ees a liar..
To all those people who sent e-mails asking where I was, thanks o, I'm still alive. And to all of una wey dey abuse my papa and mama because of blog, na wa for u o. It's all love though. Meanwhile where's everyone? Most of my favourite bloggers are gone, and I'm starting to wonder if the whole hype has died and people have finally gotten bored of the whole blogging thing. Make una come back o, abeg.
Let me just get situated....I dey come...the devil ees a liar..
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Pastor Fineboy
My people!!! Wait now, before you vex. It’s blogger o! Blogger has refused to let me update for ages! Walahi, I’ve written like three different posts in the last couple of weeks but blogger wouldn’t let me publish. And because I write off the cuff without saving in microsoft word, I keep losing stuff. To be honest I wouldn’t even put up a post that I wrote a few days ago because I like to blog on what’s happening at the moment I’m writing.
So please don’t be upset eh? The devil is a liar. They want us to fight. We no go gree them. “It’s work of enemy,” as our former houseboy Bassey used to say.
Okaaaay, so what’s good? Damn it feels like it’s been ages!!!! My birthday was amazing, the cottage turned out to be more like a mansion. It was huuuuge. I had an update about it, but I don’t even feel like talking about that weekend now, ‘cos it seems like so long ago. How una dey now?
Men a couple of days ago I was sitting here dumbfounded o. If I tell you say I no dey fear that day na lie. Hmm, let me give you the gist. See, my uncle V and aunt M are in town visiting , and I tell you, they’re the most stressful people you’ll ever meet. Nice though, but very stressful. They always want one thing or the other. They also go to one church like this in Nige…it’s sorta controversial I think, so they’re always telling all kinds of stories about how people do jazz, blah blah blah.
Chai, I’ve started with my long story again. To cut it short sha, they received a phone call on friday morning from their son in Nige, who’s a little older than I am. All I could hear was my aunty saying;
“Eh? Kilode?” (What’s the matter?)
“Haaaaaaa! O ya were ke?” (She’s gone mad ke?)
“What is she saying?”
“Ehhhhhh?????”
“Jesu ke? Mo gbe.” (I’m in trouble)
“Ha! Were ni yen looto o!” (That's a sign of madness for real o!)
“I plead the blood of Jesus! I cover her with the blood of Jesus! No weapon…..”
She was trembling, while my uncle and mum looked on. “Put her on the phone, I’ll give it to the junior pastor now.”
The thing didn’t even click. Who be junior pastor?
Next thing I know, she rushes up to me and hands me the receiver. “Oya Fineboy, talk to her, it’s Basira, the housegirl.”
Shuo! Me ke? Why?
“Err…what happened?”
She shouted, “Pray for her now! She’s suffering from spiritual attack. Shebi you were an assistant pastor in America. Hurry up!”
See me see trouble o. I took the receiver.
Me- Hello
Basirat- Mamaaaaaaaay!
Jesus.
My aunt (to me)- Pray for her now! Plead the blood of Jesus.
Me- Basirat, what’s wrong?
Basirat- Wiiiiiiiiiiiii! Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Wiiiiiiiiiiii!
Chineke. This girl don kolo for real o.
My uncle- Pray for her now!!!!!
Me- Errrrrm…..
Basirat- “Yeeeeeee! Jesu n no mi! Jesu no mi o! Yeeeeeeee!” (Jesus is flogging me! He’s beating me o!)
Me (looking back)- Ha. Uncle, this one is serious o.
Uncle- Pray now!
Basirat- Yeeeee! Jesu no boto si mi lara o! (Jesus is flogging the heck outta me o!)
Me- Why’s he beating you?
Na una sabi. Wetin I for ask? I was so shocked by it all men, it was like I was in a movie or something. Which kin’ wahala be this? All because I gave them one fabu that me I used to be an assistant pastor with my pastor uncle in America. Chineke! It’s not good to lie, especially about church o.
Basirat- Wiiiiiiiiiii! Yeeeee! O wo white! O noooo mii! (He’s dressed in white! He’s flogging me!)
I looked at my aunt, who was standing there with a horrified look on her face. She now stood at a distance, as if she was scared that the mad housegirl would jump outta the phone. I come begin wonder; “Wait, mad person dey answer phone?”
“Aunty, are you sure you don’t need a psychiatrist for this girl?”
“It’s the power of prayer! Pray for her jo!” I noticed she stayed a good distance away.
Me- Er, In Jesus’ name…..
Basirat- Wiiiiiiiii! Maaaamaaaaay! Wooooooooo!”
Yeepa.
Me- Erm, in Jesus…
Basirat- Wooooooooo! Ahhhhhhhh!
Ha! Omo, this thing that I’m saying like joke like this, it wasn’t funny at the time o. Anytime I mentioned Jesus, she would scream her head off. Which kin’ trouble I go find myself like this? You people must think I make this stuff up; it’s so ridiculous.
Me- You are healed in Jesus’ name.
Basirat- Yeeeee! Iwo! Iwo! (You!)
Omo, I no do again men. If you hear the shrillness of her voice eh? I was bloody shaking. Imagine, from London o. I don’t know why but there’s something extra scary about Naija madness.
I couldn’t hack it anymore so I gave my aunty the phone, who passed it to my uncle. He now started praying over the phone and then finally spoke to my cousin, whom he told to take her to the hospital.
Apparently, they found out later that she had acute malaria and had just been delirious. Na wa o. I never see where malaria patient dey go mad like that before o. Whew! Thank God it’s over sha, because that scared the ish outta me. It was even more scary ‘cos that my aunty and uncle are always talking about how they exorcise demons and things in their church. I come begin fear say this winch fit come jam me for night. This one wey Jesus dey flog am, she must be a really evil person.
Okay, sorry o my people. Just had to vent. I know you’re wondering how I got the title of junior pastor. Okay let me give you the gist briefly.
See, my uncle (my mum’s younger brother) lives in the states and has been there for like 30 years. He became a pastor like 20 years ago. When I say pastor, I don’t mean like Naija type pastor. I mean like those yankee style “Can I get an amen?” type pastors.
The guy come look like American again. As in he’s a fine boy pastor o, with his bald head. The guy even gives them yankee-style pastor suits. Green, maroon, off-white…gbo gbo e. The guy get all kin’ funny colour suits. And his congregation is mostly African-American o.
Anyhow, when I first moved to Yankee, I stayed with him and my aunt Desiree. See I was worried, ‘cos I thought it’d be hard living with a pastor, but he was cool as hell men. The first Sunday I was there, I had given them jeans, loafers and a blazer to church. My uncle of course, had given them on baggy lime green suit like that.
“FB!!! You can’t wear that o! You don’t know you’re an assistant pastor now!”
That’s how it started. When I started running wild with all those freshman babes on campus, my mum would call and my uncle would tell her, “Don’t worry about Fineboy, he’s an assistant pastor here o. He’s being a good boy.” I guess it was just his way of covering for me. I love that dude.
My mum was proud o. She started telling all her friends that I was a proper church boy now. One time she called and my uncle V and aunt M were with her. Uncle V asked me “So I heard you’re an assistant pastor. That’s good o. We can never have enough prayer. God is good.”
Ye! I couldn’t deny it now. Me sef I replied that God was wonderful and in fact, I used to preach some Sundays. Na so the thing start o. They’ve been calling me a junior pastor since, and as per they’re proper born again Christians, I haven’t had the nerve to tell them I was only joking that day.
Na wetin cause my wahala today be that o. Pastor ko pastor ni. Don’t get it twisted though, I used to do stuff in that church for real o. As in, I used to give them full suit and tie every Sunday, and I was a ‘senior usher.’
But I was useless meeeeen. I dey always get one scoin-scoin or the other. I remember once when my uncle called me to the front to start behind people he was praying for. I took off my jacket and went and stood in front of the whole congregation. Meeen, that’s how one babe walked to the front for prayer.
Hot Damn!
When I say babe, I mean BABE. She was smoking hot, thick in all the right places….you know those African American girls that have been eating chicken and biscuits their whole lives. Lord have mercy. I know I was in church, and na good good holy thoughts I suppose dey think, but I couldn’t help it men.
Kai. She had on a tight pencil skirt with one white shirt and some heels. The walk sef was mad…..one of those girls that are just hot without even trying or realising it.
Mm mm mm.
Yeepa, I felt something start to shift in my trozziz. Aaaaaah! In front of the whole church. Which kin’ wahala be this, and I don off my jacket!
Omo, that’s how my John Thomas started rising o. Yeeeee!
My uncle moved to start praying for her and signalled for me to position myself behind her so that I could break her fall. (You know Yankee people gots to fall when Pastor prays for them now.)
Omo! The babe took a step back so that the booty was right in front of me. Chei, I comot my eye quick quick. But it was too late men. John Thomas just dey rise, and rise, and rise. And because I had no jacket there was no way to hide it. I come begin think about different things. I tried to imagine Iya Bose, one fried yam seller in lagos standing in front of me.
No luck. John Thomas no gree o.
Ha, see me see wahala. Sister Harriet, one yeye amebo usher like that, was looking at me from across the front with one disgusted look on her face. I used style to twist my waist so she couldn’t see the full extent of the damage. This one na catastrophe o.
Na so I begin say the Lord’s prayer in Yoruba. My brother once said that was the best way to curb this kind of problem. I tried to remember the words.
Baba wa ti m be l’orun. .
Ki ijoba re de.
Err…I no remember the next line. That’s how pastor said something in the prayer that made her jump up and down waving her hands in the air vigorously. Yeepa.
*wiggle wiggle*
I wan die. My bolongo now chaaaaaaarged at fuuuuuulll attention.
I felt like a sinner man. Why na for inside church wey Tarzan go come dey elongate like this?
Men when the babe finally fell backwards into me, I knew she felt it. I tried to pull back well well, but I couldn’t avoid it men. She stayed on the floor for like 15 minutes. Omo, I thought she had fainted from the force of John Bull’s power sef.
Men after that day, I dey wear jacket before I catch anybody o. I was utterly useless at the job, to be honest, because I have another bad habit. I can’t suppress my laughter when I find something funny, no matter how serious the environment I’m in is. One time I was standing at the front holding the offering bowl while one Naija woman gave her thanksgiving testimony.
“Praaaaaaaiiiiiise the Lord. God have been very good to me. For ten years, they say my husband will not see visa. The enemies is angry with us for many years because we are doing the work of God.”
Hehn?? Shellomastic! I held the air in my mouth so I wouldn’t explode. The church was deathly silent, and I tried my hardest not to laugh. But the woman no gree o. She just dey drop bomb upon bomb.
“But people of God, I just want to say thanks to our fada in heaven and this our pastor. This pastor is a good person. Even when they diagonise my husband with cancer, he stand by me, praying for me…
DIAGONISE??? Is that a word? Omo I was fighting hard to suppress the laughter. I was dying to explode, I come begin look up and down…and then
“But praise God because I have defeat all the enemy that have attempting to wicked my family!”
Yeeparipa! Men I just burst out laughing and ran to the back of the Church. I couldn’t help it men. That was my last day as an “assistant pastor” o. My uncle didn’t find it funny at all. I had to explain to him that it wasn’t my fault, “it’s work of enemy.”
Yo I’ll holla soon y’all. God forgive me for this post.
So please don’t be upset eh? The devil is a liar. They want us to fight. We no go gree them. “It’s work of enemy,” as our former houseboy Bassey used to say.
Okaaaay, so what’s good? Damn it feels like it’s been ages!!!! My birthday was amazing, the cottage turned out to be more like a mansion. It was huuuuge. I had an update about it, but I don’t even feel like talking about that weekend now, ‘cos it seems like so long ago. How una dey now?
Men a couple of days ago I was sitting here dumbfounded o. If I tell you say I no dey fear that day na lie. Hmm, let me give you the gist. See, my uncle V and aunt M are in town visiting , and I tell you, they’re the most stressful people you’ll ever meet. Nice though, but very stressful. They always want one thing or the other. They also go to one church like this in Nige…it’s sorta controversial I think, so they’re always telling all kinds of stories about how people do jazz, blah blah blah.
Chai, I’ve started with my long story again. To cut it short sha, they received a phone call on friday morning from their son in Nige, who’s a little older than I am. All I could hear was my aunty saying;
“Eh? Kilode?” (What’s the matter?)
“Haaaaaaa! O ya were ke?” (She’s gone mad ke?)
“What is she saying?”
“Ehhhhhh?????”
“Jesu ke? Mo gbe.” (I’m in trouble)
“Ha! Were ni yen looto o!” (That's a sign of madness for real o!)
“I plead the blood of Jesus! I cover her with the blood of Jesus! No weapon…..”
She was trembling, while my uncle and mum looked on. “Put her on the phone, I’ll give it to the junior pastor now.”
The thing didn’t even click. Who be junior pastor?
Next thing I know, she rushes up to me and hands me the receiver. “Oya Fineboy, talk to her, it’s Basira, the housegirl.”
Shuo! Me ke? Why?
“Err…what happened?”
She shouted, “Pray for her now! She’s suffering from spiritual attack. Shebi you were an assistant pastor in America. Hurry up!”
See me see trouble o. I took the receiver.
Me- Hello
Basirat- Mamaaaaaaaay!
Jesus.
My aunt (to me)- Pray for her now! Plead the blood of Jesus.
Me- Basirat, what’s wrong?
Basirat- Wiiiiiiiiiiiii! Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Wiiiiiiiiiiii!
Chineke. This girl don kolo for real o.
My uncle- Pray for her now!!!!!
Me- Errrrrm…..
Basirat- “Yeeeeeee! Jesu n no mi! Jesu no mi o! Yeeeeeeee!” (Jesus is flogging me! He’s beating me o!)
Me (looking back)- Ha. Uncle, this one is serious o.
Uncle- Pray now!
Basirat- Yeeeee! Jesu no boto si mi lara o! (Jesus is flogging the heck outta me o!)
Me- Why’s he beating you?
Na una sabi. Wetin I for ask? I was so shocked by it all men, it was like I was in a movie or something. Which kin’ wahala be this? All because I gave them one fabu that me I used to be an assistant pastor with my pastor uncle in America. Chineke! It’s not good to lie, especially about church o.
Basirat- Wiiiiiiiiiii! Yeeeee! O wo white! O noooo mii! (He’s dressed in white! He’s flogging me!)
I looked at my aunt, who was standing there with a horrified look on her face. She now stood at a distance, as if she was scared that the mad housegirl would jump outta the phone. I come begin wonder; “Wait, mad person dey answer phone?”
“Aunty, are you sure you don’t need a psychiatrist for this girl?”
“It’s the power of prayer! Pray for her jo!” I noticed she stayed a good distance away.
Me- Er, In Jesus’ name…..
Basirat- Wiiiiiiiii! Maaaamaaaaay! Wooooooooo!”
Yeepa.
Me- Erm, in Jesus…
Basirat- Wooooooooo! Ahhhhhhhh!
Ha! Omo, this thing that I’m saying like joke like this, it wasn’t funny at the time o. Anytime I mentioned Jesus, she would scream her head off. Which kin’ trouble I go find myself like this? You people must think I make this stuff up; it’s so ridiculous.
Me- You are healed in Jesus’ name.
Basirat- Yeeeee! Iwo! Iwo! (You!)
Omo, I no do again men. If you hear the shrillness of her voice eh? I was bloody shaking. Imagine, from London o. I don’t know why but there’s something extra scary about Naija madness.
I couldn’t hack it anymore so I gave my aunty the phone, who passed it to my uncle. He now started praying over the phone and then finally spoke to my cousin, whom he told to take her to the hospital.
Apparently, they found out later that she had acute malaria and had just been delirious. Na wa o. I never see where malaria patient dey go mad like that before o. Whew! Thank God it’s over sha, because that scared the ish outta me. It was even more scary ‘cos that my aunty and uncle are always talking about how they exorcise demons and things in their church. I come begin fear say this winch fit come jam me for night. This one wey Jesus dey flog am, she must be a really evil person.
Okay, sorry o my people. Just had to vent. I know you’re wondering how I got the title of junior pastor. Okay let me give you the gist briefly.
See, my uncle (my mum’s younger brother) lives in the states and has been there for like 30 years. He became a pastor like 20 years ago. When I say pastor, I don’t mean like Naija type pastor. I mean like those yankee style “Can I get an amen?” type pastors.
The guy come look like American again. As in he’s a fine boy pastor o, with his bald head. The guy even gives them yankee-style pastor suits. Green, maroon, off-white…gbo gbo e. The guy get all kin’ funny colour suits. And his congregation is mostly African-American o.
Anyhow, when I first moved to Yankee, I stayed with him and my aunt Desiree. See I was worried, ‘cos I thought it’d be hard living with a pastor, but he was cool as hell men. The first Sunday I was there, I had given them jeans, loafers and a blazer to church. My uncle of course, had given them on baggy lime green suit like that.
“FB!!! You can’t wear that o! You don’t know you’re an assistant pastor now!”
That’s how it started. When I started running wild with all those freshman babes on campus, my mum would call and my uncle would tell her, “Don’t worry about Fineboy, he’s an assistant pastor here o. He’s being a good boy.” I guess it was just his way of covering for me. I love that dude.
My mum was proud o. She started telling all her friends that I was a proper church boy now. One time she called and my uncle V and aunt M were with her. Uncle V asked me “So I heard you’re an assistant pastor. That’s good o. We can never have enough prayer. God is good.”
Ye! I couldn’t deny it now. Me sef I replied that God was wonderful and in fact, I used to preach some Sundays. Na so the thing start o. They’ve been calling me a junior pastor since, and as per they’re proper born again Christians, I haven’t had the nerve to tell them I was only joking that day.
Na wetin cause my wahala today be that o. Pastor ko pastor ni. Don’t get it twisted though, I used to do stuff in that church for real o. As in, I used to give them full suit and tie every Sunday, and I was a ‘senior usher.’
But I was useless meeeeen. I dey always get one scoin-scoin or the other. I remember once when my uncle called me to the front to start behind people he was praying for. I took off my jacket and went and stood in front of the whole congregation. Meeen, that’s how one babe walked to the front for prayer.
Hot Damn!
When I say babe, I mean BABE. She was smoking hot, thick in all the right places….you know those African American girls that have been eating chicken and biscuits their whole lives. Lord have mercy. I know I was in church, and na good good holy thoughts I suppose dey think, but I couldn’t help it men.
Kai. She had on a tight pencil skirt with one white shirt and some heels. The walk sef was mad…..one of those girls that are just hot without even trying or realising it.
Mm mm mm.
Yeepa, I felt something start to shift in my trozziz. Aaaaaah! In front of the whole church. Which kin’ wahala be this, and I don off my jacket!
Omo, that’s how my John Thomas started rising o. Yeeeee!
My uncle moved to start praying for her and signalled for me to position myself behind her so that I could break her fall. (You know Yankee people gots to fall when Pastor prays for them now.)
Omo! The babe took a step back so that the booty was right in front of me. Chei, I comot my eye quick quick. But it was too late men. John Thomas just dey rise, and rise, and rise. And because I had no jacket there was no way to hide it. I come begin think about different things. I tried to imagine Iya Bose, one fried yam seller in lagos standing in front of me.
No luck. John Thomas no gree o.
Ha, see me see wahala. Sister Harriet, one yeye amebo usher like that, was looking at me from across the front with one disgusted look on her face. I used style to twist my waist so she couldn’t see the full extent of the damage. This one na catastrophe o.
Na so I begin say the Lord’s prayer in Yoruba. My brother once said that was the best way to curb this kind of problem. I tried to remember the words.
Baba wa ti m be l’orun. .
Ki ijoba re de.
Err…I no remember the next line. That’s how pastor said something in the prayer that made her jump up and down waving her hands in the air vigorously. Yeepa.
*wiggle wiggle*
I wan die. My bolongo now chaaaaaaarged at fuuuuuulll attention.
I felt like a sinner man. Why na for inside church wey Tarzan go come dey elongate like this?
Men when the babe finally fell backwards into me, I knew she felt it. I tried to pull back well well, but I couldn’t avoid it men. She stayed on the floor for like 15 minutes. Omo, I thought she had fainted from the force of John Bull’s power sef.
Men after that day, I dey wear jacket before I catch anybody o. I was utterly useless at the job, to be honest, because I have another bad habit. I can’t suppress my laughter when I find something funny, no matter how serious the environment I’m in is. One time I was standing at the front holding the offering bowl while one Naija woman gave her thanksgiving testimony.
“Praaaaaaaiiiiiise the Lord. God have been very good to me. For ten years, they say my husband will not see visa. The enemies is angry with us for many years because we are doing the work of God.”
Hehn?? Shellomastic! I held the air in my mouth so I wouldn’t explode. The church was deathly silent, and I tried my hardest not to laugh. But the woman no gree o. She just dey drop bomb upon bomb.
“But people of God, I just want to say thanks to our fada in heaven and this our pastor. This pastor is a good person. Even when they diagonise my husband with cancer, he stand by me, praying for me…
DIAGONISE??? Is that a word? Omo I was fighting hard to suppress the laughter. I was dying to explode, I come begin look up and down…and then
“But praise God because I have defeat all the enemy that have attempting to wicked my family!”
Yeeparipa! Men I just burst out laughing and ran to the back of the Church. I couldn’t help it men. That was my last day as an “assistant pastor” o. My uncle didn’t find it funny at all. I had to explain to him that it wasn’t my fault, “it’s work of enemy.”
Yo I’ll holla soon y’all. God forgive me for this post.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Go Fineboy, it's your birthday!
Blogsville! What’s good? Damn, those exams were tougher than a morrafucker! Thanks for the prayers though, I really appreciate it. Although I know say some of una no pray for me. You just dey post me abi? Hmm, God forgive you o. Anyways, it’s all good. I’m in a reflective mood today, ‘cos it’s my birthday, and damn, awon boys are getting old. When you start thinking about lying about your age, trust me you’re old.
I woke up kinda early this morning, ‘cos as usual Chief Fineboy called to wish his fourth son a happy birthday. Meeeen, the guy used some brand new words today and got me all emotional but it’s all good. I’ve received quite a few calls already today, a lot of them from Nige. My oldest bro Nigerian Shakespeare was the first caller. Men, the dude is one of my favourite people but the guy dey speak oyinbo eh? Lord have mercy. Chief Fineboy jr.
I also got calls from some of my aunts as well. One of my favourite aunts, Aunty R called from Abuja, and her brother my Uncle S was there as well.
Na so she give the guy phone o. You see that uncle S guy is a bit funny. I’m not sure if the guy’s complete up there if you know what I mean, because sometimes the guy talks some funny shite men. Like this morning, he was giving me the usual prayers o. Like “God bless you, may you have many more" blah blah, and then…….."motor will not jam you.”
What???
I come begin wonder. I had already said “amen,” before I thought about it. Abi this guy dey swear for me? Why would you think to say that to someone? Na wa o. Now I’m all paranoid, because this one that guys are always slapping around central London, anything can shele.
After I put the phone down, I just started thinking about it men. Shey the guy dey see vision ni? We’re going to the Lake District this weekend in a 15-seater, so I gots to be careful when driving o, especially ‘cos it’s at night. And trust me when you’ve been in accident before, you get maaad paranoid. I’ll never forget when one madman bashed me in Yankee. I think I’m still traumatised from the experience sef. Make I give una the gist briefly.
It was the day after Valentine’s day, and the night before I’d had a nice Italian dinner at my omoge’s crib. You know, candlelight, then bubble bath, massage oils, everything! Spent the night (wink wink), woke up feeling nice and refreshed, and took off for work. Men, na so I stop for traffic light o. Just as the light turned green, I just felt something plow into my car from behind. Omo, this one was not CRASH. It was GBAAAAAOOOOW!!! My coin compartment flew open and sprayed pennies and dimes across my car. For a second I was in shock. Like omo am I injured?
I tried to move my main parts, and I see say everything dey correct order. Thank God for seat belt. My next thought was my car. Damn. Just the sound of the metal crashing broke my heart ‘cos I knew my baby must be looking a hot mess right now. I got out.
CHINEKE! The whole rear end don scatter ni sha. The dude’s car was some minivan type car and it hadn’t even incurred any damage. I looked at the were. The guy was sitting there with one sheepish look on his face. He looked like one of those IT nerds with the big glasses and spiderman tie. I was waiting for an explanation.
“Pretty bad huh? That’s a nice car too.”
I looked at the guy and fantasised about punching that his long nose.
I was just thinking, “You’re lucky this isn’t Naija. I for don woze you slap by now.”
Na so I just remember. Men, when you get in an accident, you shouldn’t walk around like you’re fine. Omo, I just went back into my car and sat down. The twit came to my window.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
I told him I was gonna move the car off the road and park in a shopping mall parking lot across the road. I moved the car there and the dude followed me. When we got there, men I just palmed like I was hella hurt o. Because if you start walking around now, insurance fit say nothing for boys. The bobo was on his phone the whole time, so I figured he was talking to the police or insurance or what not. He came to my window.
“Err, so what do we do now?”
“You called the cops right?”
“Erm, no that was my wife.”
Fool! So the whole time this nincompoop was on the phone, na im wife e dey follow talk??? Mugu!
Meeeen, I was pissed. I called the cops and told the joker to call his insurance company sharpish. I just chilled in the car like say my back don break. Omo, I begin calculate. This one na upgrade o. Hmm, with the dough I get from the insurance company, I’m copping a 6.45 beemer. I started imagining cruising into DC in my brand new 6.45 coupe. Ha, awon boys go just bounce inside club. Throw the keys to valet. “Don’t scratch my joint, baby.” Represent….
“Sir are you okay?”
There was a policeman at my window. Me wey I don imagine go, if you saw the way I switched my voice eh.
“Ah, officer.”
“Are you alright? Can you step outside of your vehicle?”
Step kini?
“Aaaaaah, officer no. I can’t.” I winced. “Aaaagh.”
“Do you need an ambulance?”
“I think so. I don’t know…..aaaagh.”
The nerd who bashed me was looking. I gave the guy eye. If dey born you well, say I came out of the car earlier.
That’s how the cop called ambulance o. In like 15 minutes, it arrived and two paramedics jumped out and brought out a stretcher. Omo! This thing don dey serious o. Yeepa.
“Sir can you move?”
“Err….yeah.” I moved my hand.
“Okay. Do not attempt to get up.”
They opened the door and put me on the stretcher. Ha! See my life o. Which kin’ katakata I don enter? They now hurriedly thrust me into the ambulance. Yeepers. Next thing I know, the guy pulls out a white sheet and starts to cover me up.
AAAAAAH!
“Nooooo!” I no be oku now.
The guy goes, “You have to have it over you sir.”
“No mate.”
I felt like telling him, “In my country na dead man dem dey cover with white sheet o, bros.”
“You will have to have it on sir. Or we won’t be transporting you to the hospital.”
Chei. “Alright then.” I go manage am. No be money?
When they covered me ehn, I felt sick. Sirens blaring and everything, white sheet over me like a corpse. Because of small change. See my life.
Long story short, the doctor referred me to a chiropractor who found out I had “subluxations” in my spine blah blah blah. Meanwhile that back don dey pain me since o. I injured it playing basketball, but had thought it was just a muscle that I had pulled or something. I remember when I went to Naija one December and went to the doctor’s about it.
The y sent me to the x-ray guy, one old paps with huge glasses.
“Off your clothes.”
“Huh?”
“Off your trozziz.”
Na wa o. A whole x-ray technician. I looked at the baba. He passed me one hospital gown. It was rather awkward but I took my clothes off and lay on the table thingy, flat on my stomach. I couldn’t help feeling vulnerable because this old paps had a clear view of my butt. Is all this one necessary? He put the x-ray machine over me and adjusted me like a million times, each time saying,
“Kai!”
“This is serious.”
“Mm mm mm.”
“Bombastical.”
Then making that clicking noise with his tongue.
“This is terrible o.”
I finally asked him, “What’s the problem?”
“You’re asking me. Your back is in a shambles!”
This baba sef.
“This is a slipped disc now. Are you a labourer?”
I wanted to laugh. Did I look like a bricklayer to this man?
“Err..no.”
“Your back is finished. Your spinal system has scattered. Just go and see the doctor.”
Na your back go run down, you this wicked old man.
He gave me the film and I took it to the doctor, who said it was nothing, just muscle tension. Anyhow he gave me some painkillers and “robb.”
Imagine o.
When the chiropractor in America fixed my back months later I couldn’t help but think “We can be so backwards in that country.”
Needless to say, I made mad money from that accident but I won’t bore you with the details. Awon boys did some crazy shopping, copped a brand new ride and ‘all at. So if somebody bashes you, remember to do what I did. But if na okada for Naija, shine your eye o. If you talk about insurance, dem go brush you! I love y’all men, I’ll be blogging properly this weekend.
Blogsville, your boy is back.
I woke up kinda early this morning, ‘cos as usual Chief Fineboy called to wish his fourth son a happy birthday. Meeeen, the guy used some brand new words today and got me all emotional but it’s all good. I’ve received quite a few calls already today, a lot of them from Nige. My oldest bro Nigerian Shakespeare was the first caller. Men, the dude is one of my favourite people but the guy dey speak oyinbo eh? Lord have mercy. Chief Fineboy jr.
I also got calls from some of my aunts as well. One of my favourite aunts, Aunty R called from Abuja, and her brother my Uncle S was there as well.
Na so she give the guy phone o. You see that uncle S guy is a bit funny. I’m not sure if the guy’s complete up there if you know what I mean, because sometimes the guy talks some funny shite men. Like this morning, he was giving me the usual prayers o. Like “God bless you, may you have many more" blah blah, and then…….."motor will not jam you.”
What???
I come begin wonder. I had already said “amen,” before I thought about it. Abi this guy dey swear for me? Why would you think to say that to someone? Na wa o. Now I’m all paranoid, because this one that guys are always slapping around central London, anything can shele.
After I put the phone down, I just started thinking about it men. Shey the guy dey see vision ni? We’re going to the Lake District this weekend in a 15-seater, so I gots to be careful when driving o, especially ‘cos it’s at night. And trust me when you’ve been in accident before, you get maaad paranoid. I’ll never forget when one madman bashed me in Yankee. I think I’m still traumatised from the experience sef. Make I give una the gist briefly.
It was the day after Valentine’s day, and the night before I’d had a nice Italian dinner at my omoge’s crib. You know, candlelight, then bubble bath, massage oils, everything! Spent the night (wink wink), woke up feeling nice and refreshed, and took off for work. Men, na so I stop for traffic light o. Just as the light turned green, I just felt something plow into my car from behind. Omo, this one was not CRASH. It was GBAAAAAOOOOW!!! My coin compartment flew open and sprayed pennies and dimes across my car. For a second I was in shock. Like omo am I injured?
I tried to move my main parts, and I see say everything dey correct order. Thank God for seat belt. My next thought was my car. Damn. Just the sound of the metal crashing broke my heart ‘cos I knew my baby must be looking a hot mess right now. I got out.
CHINEKE! The whole rear end don scatter ni sha. The dude’s car was some minivan type car and it hadn’t even incurred any damage. I looked at the were. The guy was sitting there with one sheepish look on his face. He looked like one of those IT nerds with the big glasses and spiderman tie. I was waiting for an explanation.
“Pretty bad huh? That’s a nice car too.”
I looked at the guy and fantasised about punching that his long nose.
I was just thinking, “You’re lucky this isn’t Naija. I for don woze you slap by now.”
Na so I just remember. Men, when you get in an accident, you shouldn’t walk around like you’re fine. Omo, I just went back into my car and sat down. The twit came to my window.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
I told him I was gonna move the car off the road and park in a shopping mall parking lot across the road. I moved the car there and the dude followed me. When we got there, men I just palmed like I was hella hurt o. Because if you start walking around now, insurance fit say nothing for boys. The bobo was on his phone the whole time, so I figured he was talking to the police or insurance or what not. He came to my window.
“Err, so what do we do now?”
“You called the cops right?”
“Erm, no that was my wife.”
Fool! So the whole time this nincompoop was on the phone, na im wife e dey follow talk??? Mugu!
Meeeen, I was pissed. I called the cops and told the joker to call his insurance company sharpish. I just chilled in the car like say my back don break. Omo, I begin calculate. This one na upgrade o. Hmm, with the dough I get from the insurance company, I’m copping a 6.45 beemer. I started imagining cruising into DC in my brand new 6.45 coupe. Ha, awon boys go just bounce inside club. Throw the keys to valet. “Don’t scratch my joint, baby.” Represent….
“Sir are you okay?”
There was a policeman at my window. Me wey I don imagine go, if you saw the way I switched my voice eh.
“Ah, officer.”
“Are you alright? Can you step outside of your vehicle?”
Step kini?
“Aaaaaah, officer no. I can’t.” I winced. “Aaaagh.”
“Do you need an ambulance?”
“I think so. I don’t know…..aaaagh.”
The nerd who bashed me was looking. I gave the guy eye. If dey born you well, say I came out of the car earlier.
That’s how the cop called ambulance o. In like 15 minutes, it arrived and two paramedics jumped out and brought out a stretcher. Omo! This thing don dey serious o. Yeepa.
“Sir can you move?”
“Err….yeah.” I moved my hand.
“Okay. Do not attempt to get up.”
They opened the door and put me on the stretcher. Ha! See my life o. Which kin’ katakata I don enter? They now hurriedly thrust me into the ambulance. Yeepers. Next thing I know, the guy pulls out a white sheet and starts to cover me up.
AAAAAAH!
“Nooooo!” I no be oku now.
The guy goes, “You have to have it over you sir.”
“No mate.”
I felt like telling him, “In my country na dead man dem dey cover with white sheet o, bros.”
“You will have to have it on sir. Or we won’t be transporting you to the hospital.”
Chei. “Alright then.” I go manage am. No be money?
When they covered me ehn, I felt sick. Sirens blaring and everything, white sheet over me like a corpse. Because of small change. See my life.
Long story short, the doctor referred me to a chiropractor who found out I had “subluxations” in my spine blah blah blah. Meanwhile that back don dey pain me since o. I injured it playing basketball, but had thought it was just a muscle that I had pulled or something. I remember when I went to Naija one December and went to the doctor’s about it.
The y sent me to the x-ray guy, one old paps with huge glasses.
“Off your clothes.”
“Huh?”
“Off your trozziz.”
Na wa o. A whole x-ray technician. I looked at the baba. He passed me one hospital gown. It was rather awkward but I took my clothes off and lay on the table thingy, flat on my stomach. I couldn’t help feeling vulnerable because this old paps had a clear view of my butt. Is all this one necessary? He put the x-ray machine over me and adjusted me like a million times, each time saying,
“Kai!”
“This is serious.”
“Mm mm mm.”
“Bombastical.”
Then making that clicking noise with his tongue.
“This is terrible o.”
I finally asked him, “What’s the problem?”
“You’re asking me. Your back is in a shambles!”
This baba sef.
“This is a slipped disc now. Are you a labourer?”
I wanted to laugh. Did I look like a bricklayer to this man?
“Err..no.”
“Your back is finished. Your spinal system has scattered. Just go and see the doctor.”
Na your back go run down, you this wicked old man.
He gave me the film and I took it to the doctor, who said it was nothing, just muscle tension. Anyhow he gave me some painkillers and “robb.”
Imagine o.
When the chiropractor in America fixed my back months later I couldn’t help but think “We can be so backwards in that country.”
Needless to say, I made mad money from that accident but I won’t bore you with the details. Awon boys did some crazy shopping, copped a brand new ride and ‘all at. So if somebody bashes you, remember to do what I did. But if na okada for Naija, shine your eye o. If you talk about insurance, dem go brush you! I love y’all men, I’ll be blogging properly this weekend.
Blogsville, your boy is back.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
60 Questions
Thought I'd leave you guys this 60 questions thingy, since I won't be back until after exams. Stole it from Calabar Girl....thanx!
1.What time did you get up this morning?
8.00 am. Hit the library to study for two exams.
2. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds, I guess. Whatever she likes. Honestly, give me a leather strapped Breitling and I'm good to go!
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Fracture. Pretty tight. Hopkins IS the man.
4. What is your favorite TV show?
I don't watch TV anymore, but Martin is my favourite show of all time. Whaaat? Shenene... Jerome? Men, I have the entire series on dvd.
5. What did you have for breakfast?
A slice of toast and two eggs..sunny side up, over-medium.
6. What is your middle name?
Sweetboy. Named after my Pop-pop. I need to blog about him sometime.
7. What is your favorite cuisine/meal?
I almost said Thai, but I gots to go with Nigerian. My aunty B's Jollof rice and stewed beef is crazy! The rice will now be reddd! Chei. I'm hungry.
8. What foods do you dislike?
Oats. Yuck. In fact, anything with bits in it, like Mullerice yoghurt. Eugh!
9. Your favorite Potato chip?
Don't have one. Cheetos aren't bad though.
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
Tough one. Erm, Ne-Yo's new album or T-Pain's. R.Kelly's new joint is hot too.
11. What kind of car do you drive?
Don't drive in London, but my last car was a 2005 Mazda 6s. Sweet car- tiptronic gearbox, heated leather seats, all that good stuff.
12. Favorite sandwich?
Turkey and cheddar cheese. Oh, the club sandwich at Londoner's in Nige is good o. Kai!
13. What characteristics do you despise?
Hateration. Damn, I can't stand people who'd rather have bad belle than big a person up. Loser mentality man.
14. Favorite item of clothing?
That's tough. My ripped American Eagle jeans from like two years ago. They're hella comfy and sit well on chuck taylors. My mum says I should throw them away though. "They look old!" she says.
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?
Cabo, Mexico. Again.
16. What color is your bathroom?
Errrm..... I'd say green, but I'm sure Finebabe wouldn't call it that. It's one of those weird 'new' colours that only women know the names of. Looks light green to me.
17. Favorite brand of clothing?
Louis Vuitton loafers are the most comfortable shoes in the world. Tod's make amazing drivers as well. This is too hard. Chuck Taylor's by Converse are just the classic sneaker. Can't choose. Sorry.
18. Where would you want to retire?
Lagos. No ifs, no buts, no maybes.
19. Favorite time of day?
Noon. Gym time.
20. Where were you born?
West London.
21. Favorite sport(s) to watch?
Football, American Football and Boxing. I stay up until 5am whenever Floyd Mayweather or Jermaine Taylor's fighting.
22. Who do you least expect to respond to this?
Errm, my mama??
23. Person you expect to respond first?
Teekay probably.
24. What laundry scent do you use?
LOL. Are you serious? Err...no idea.
25. Coke or Pepsi?
Neither. I quit drinking soda in 2005.
26. Are you a morning person or night owl?
Night owl baby.
27. What size shoe do you wear?
10 1/2
28. Do you have pets?
Not in England. Does my godson Scratchy count?
29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone?
It's my birthday on June 21, two days after my exams are done!
30. What did you want to be when you were little?
An actor. My dad thought I was crazy.
31. Favorite Candy Bar?
None
32. What is your best childhood memory?
Eating hot dogs at Battersea park circus with my older bro and my mum. Fun times.
33. What are the different jobs you have had in your life?
Err...not that many actually. Intern, student newspaper columnist, of course Officer Fineboy, and project manager.
34. What color/type underwear are you wearing?
Err...have to look. Okay, black Hanes with the grey waistband. Thanks for asking!
35.Nicknames:
Mbobo. my oldest bro calls me that to this day 'cos I loved the bushman character in "King Solomon's mines" when I was a 3yr. old. How embarassing.
36. Piercings?
Got my left ear pierced twice. The hole closed up again a couple of years ago. No more though. Time to get my grown man on.
37. Eye color?
Brown
38a) Ever been to Africa?
You berra believe it. Gidi till I die.
38b) Ever been to South Australia?
Nope
39. Ever been toilet papering or rolling?
I was a Naija kid men. Wetin consign malu with one-way?
40. Love someone so much it made you cry?
Pretty damn close.
41. Been in a car accident?
Yeah, no big ones though.
42. Croutons or bacon bits?
Neither. Lettuce, tomatoes, cheddar cheese and ranch.
43.Favorite day of the week?
Friday.
44. Favorite restaurant?
Mango Tree at Victoria. Great Thai food.
45. Favorite flower?
None
46. Favorite ice cream?
Chocolate Chip cookie dough. The smarties joint is sweet too o.
47. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
None. A whole Lagos driver?
48. What color is your bedroom carpet?
Beige.
49. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
None now. I told you.
50. Before this one, from whom did you get your last email?
Chief Fineboy. He wished me luck.
51. Which stores would you choose to max out your credit card?
Bang & Olufsen.
52. What do you do most often when you are bored?
Write or call my shorty to harass her.
53. Bedtime?
This is actually terrible. 2am nowadays, for no apparent reason. I need to sort myself out.
54. Who are you most curious about their responses to this questionnaire?
Nelson Mandela. Not like he would do it.
55. Last person you went to dinner with?
A couple of my Canadian friends. Fire and Stone at Covent garden.
56. What are you listening to right now?
Ne-yo. He's telling her "We gotta make it work..."
57. What is your favorite color?
Depends. My women black though, for sure.
58. Lake, Ocean or river?
Ocean. Remember those rivers in the village? They were scary o.
59. How many tattoos do you have?
None. Yet. thinking about getting my grandfathers' portraits on my left upper arm, but everyone's saying i shouldn't.
60. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
The Chicken. Eledumare created the chicken and gave it to Oduduwa innit?
1.What time did you get up this morning?
8.00 am. Hit the library to study for two exams.
2. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds, I guess. Whatever she likes. Honestly, give me a leather strapped Breitling and I'm good to go!
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Fracture. Pretty tight. Hopkins IS the man.
4. What is your favorite TV show?
I don't watch TV anymore, but Martin is my favourite show of all time. Whaaat? Shenene... Jerome? Men, I have the entire series on dvd.
5. What did you have for breakfast?
A slice of toast and two eggs..sunny side up, over-medium.
6. What is your middle name?
Sweetboy. Named after my Pop-pop. I need to blog about him sometime.
7. What is your favorite cuisine/meal?
I almost said Thai, but I gots to go with Nigerian. My aunty B's Jollof rice and stewed beef is crazy! The rice will now be reddd! Chei. I'm hungry.
8. What foods do you dislike?
Oats. Yuck. In fact, anything with bits in it, like Mullerice yoghurt. Eugh!
9. Your favorite Potato chip?
Don't have one. Cheetos aren't bad though.
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
Tough one. Erm, Ne-Yo's new album or T-Pain's. R.Kelly's new joint is hot too.
11. What kind of car do you drive?
Don't drive in London, but my last car was a 2005 Mazda 6s. Sweet car- tiptronic gearbox, heated leather seats, all that good stuff.
12. Favorite sandwich?
Turkey and cheddar cheese. Oh, the club sandwich at Londoner's in Nige is good o. Kai!
13. What characteristics do you despise?
Hateration. Damn, I can't stand people who'd rather have bad belle than big a person up. Loser mentality man.
14. Favorite item of clothing?
That's tough. My ripped American Eagle jeans from like two years ago. They're hella comfy and sit well on chuck taylors. My mum says I should throw them away though. "They look old!" she says.
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?
Cabo, Mexico. Again.
16. What color is your bathroom?
Errrm..... I'd say green, but I'm sure Finebabe wouldn't call it that. It's one of those weird 'new' colours that only women know the names of. Looks light green to me.
17. Favorite brand of clothing?
Louis Vuitton loafers are the most comfortable shoes in the world. Tod's make amazing drivers as well. This is too hard. Chuck Taylor's by Converse are just the classic sneaker. Can't choose. Sorry.
18. Where would you want to retire?
Lagos. No ifs, no buts, no maybes.
19. Favorite time of day?
Noon. Gym time.
20. Where were you born?
West London.
21. Favorite sport(s) to watch?
Football, American Football and Boxing. I stay up until 5am whenever Floyd Mayweather or Jermaine Taylor's fighting.
22. Who do you least expect to respond to this?
Errm, my mama??
23. Person you expect to respond first?
Teekay probably.
24. What laundry scent do you use?
LOL. Are you serious? Err...no idea.
25. Coke or Pepsi?
Neither. I quit drinking soda in 2005.
26. Are you a morning person or night owl?
Night owl baby.
27. What size shoe do you wear?
10 1/2
28. Do you have pets?
Not in England. Does my godson Scratchy count?
29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone?
It's my birthday on June 21, two days after my exams are done!
30. What did you want to be when you were little?
An actor. My dad thought I was crazy.
31. Favorite Candy Bar?
None
32. What is your best childhood memory?
Eating hot dogs at Battersea park circus with my older bro and my mum. Fun times.
33. What are the different jobs you have had in your life?
Err...not that many actually. Intern, student newspaper columnist, of course Officer Fineboy, and project manager.
34. What color/type underwear are you wearing?
Err...have to look. Okay, black Hanes with the grey waistband. Thanks for asking!
35.Nicknames:
Mbobo. my oldest bro calls me that to this day 'cos I loved the bushman character in "King Solomon's mines" when I was a 3yr. old. How embarassing.
36. Piercings?
Got my left ear pierced twice. The hole closed up again a couple of years ago. No more though. Time to get my grown man on.
37. Eye color?
Brown
38a) Ever been to Africa?
You berra believe it. Gidi till I die.
38b) Ever been to South Australia?
Nope
39. Ever been toilet papering or rolling?
I was a Naija kid men. Wetin consign malu with one-way?
40. Love someone so much it made you cry?
Pretty damn close.
41. Been in a car accident?
Yeah, no big ones though.
42. Croutons or bacon bits?
Neither. Lettuce, tomatoes, cheddar cheese and ranch.
43.Favorite day of the week?
Friday.
44. Favorite restaurant?
Mango Tree at Victoria. Great Thai food.
45. Favorite flower?
None
46. Favorite ice cream?
Chocolate Chip cookie dough. The smarties joint is sweet too o.
47. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
None. A whole Lagos driver?
48. What color is your bedroom carpet?
Beige.
49. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
None now. I told you.
50. Before this one, from whom did you get your last email?
Chief Fineboy. He wished me luck.
51. Which stores would you choose to max out your credit card?
Bang & Olufsen.
52. What do you do most often when you are bored?
Write or call my shorty to harass her.
53. Bedtime?
This is actually terrible. 2am nowadays, for no apparent reason. I need to sort myself out.
54. Who are you most curious about their responses to this questionnaire?
Nelson Mandela. Not like he would do it.
55. Last person you went to dinner with?
A couple of my Canadian friends. Fire and Stone at Covent garden.
56. What are you listening to right now?
Ne-yo. He's telling her "We gotta make it work..."
57. What is your favorite color?
Depends. My women black though, for sure.
58. Lake, Ocean or river?
Ocean. Remember those rivers in the village? They were scary o.
59. How many tattoos do you have?
None. Yet. thinking about getting my grandfathers' portraits on my left upper arm, but everyone's saying i shouldn't.
60. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
The Chicken. Eledumare created the chicken and gave it to Oduduwa innit?
Monday, June 04, 2007
Thanx for the love...soon come.
Blogsville! What’s really good? Meeeen, exam wan kill me o. Yeepa.........all you people abeg print out my prayer request and carry it to your churches and mosques o…..all prayers are accepted. Tell your Pastor/Reverend/Alpha/Grand Master that I need divine intervention. On the real though, I’d like to thank y’all for the love men. Your comments are so hilarious and encouraging!
Oh and by the way, I really appreciate the e-mails. People show me love for real. But men, there’s one “Guru Maharaji” kinda guy that keeps sending me e-mails o. Giving me advice about the sun, moon and stars and all sorts. The bobo go say “Brother Fineboy, Kuumba, Imani, Jah bless, your light shines now so you must be righteous and victorious in the struggle…you must use your influence to help to restore our people to their traditional greatness…”
I dey fear o. The guy even sent his pictures. Omo, long beard and everything, with candles in the background. Chei, and he obviously reads this blog. To you bros, no vex o, abeg. I’m only mentioning it to my fellow bloggers. My people help me o. I dey fear no be small.
And to that babe that sends me all those raunchy e-mails…..hmm softly softly o….I appreciate the love though.
I can’t wait until exams are over men, I’m gonna rock like crazy! Its my birthday like two days after, and we’re doing the whole lake district thing so that should be fun. My cousin Hot Mocha has been doing most of the work booking the cottage and all that....speaking of Mocha, make I give una one quick gist that she gave me o.
Apparently, after leaving the club last weekend, she and her friends went to the Den. (This Nige food spot in London). She now heard this egbon (big bros) on the phone talking to some chick. The guy goes “Baby, you are too funny. Lawl lawl lawl lawl!”
I wan die men! As in the guy was actually saying “LOL” on the phone, like “Lawl, lawl, lawl!” Oh my days, only Naija man. If you don’t know what the hell it means, why say it? Na wa o.
Anyways y'all, I'll be back soon as I'm done with these exams. 6 of them y'all.....I really gots to get stuck in. After that, it'll be me and you men, i have mad gist. I love y'all...soon come.
Oh and by the way, I really appreciate the e-mails. People show me love for real. But men, there’s one “Guru Maharaji” kinda guy that keeps sending me e-mails o. Giving me advice about the sun, moon and stars and all sorts. The bobo go say “Brother Fineboy, Kuumba, Imani, Jah bless, your light shines now so you must be righteous and victorious in the struggle…you must use your influence to help to restore our people to their traditional greatness…”
I dey fear o. The guy even sent his pictures. Omo, long beard and everything, with candles in the background. Chei, and he obviously reads this blog. To you bros, no vex o, abeg. I’m only mentioning it to my fellow bloggers. My people help me o. I dey fear no be small.
And to that babe that sends me all those raunchy e-mails…..hmm softly softly o….I appreciate the love though.
I can’t wait until exams are over men, I’m gonna rock like crazy! Its my birthday like two days after, and we’re doing the whole lake district thing so that should be fun. My cousin Hot Mocha has been doing most of the work booking the cottage and all that....speaking of Mocha, make I give una one quick gist that she gave me o.
Apparently, after leaving the club last weekend, she and her friends went to the Den. (This Nige food spot in London). She now heard this egbon (big bros) on the phone talking to some chick. The guy goes “Baby, you are too funny. Lawl lawl lawl lawl!”
I wan die men! As in the guy was actually saying “LOL” on the phone, like “Lawl, lawl, lawl!” Oh my days, only Naija man. If you don’t know what the hell it means, why say it? Na wa o.
Anyways y'all, I'll be back soon as I'm done with these exams. 6 of them y'all.....I really gots to get stuck in. After that, it'll be me and you men, i have mad gist. I love y'all...soon come.
Monday, May 14, 2007
I LOVE HER (scoin-scoin and all...)
Blogsville! What’s good! I know it’s been a minute, been hard at work in the trenches man. Let me not lie, half of the time na blogs I dey read men. I saw Taurean Minx's Nige pics the other day...chei, she's hot o. In fact, o wa very bearriful. Babaalaye beware!
But on the real, I literally spent like one straight 24 hour period at the library last week. Some people have even been telling me to quit blogging until after my exams, but i can't leave y'all man. Not for nothing. It’s all good though, it’ll be over soon.
The weekend was great men. We hit the club on Friday night, and it was a such a laugh. If you know me, then you know I’m a serial clowner. I love clowning girls I talk to, ‘cos their reaction usually tells you what they’re like. Really confident women usually just laugh or clown you back. The arrogant or insecure ones just get really pissed quickly. Anyways, so this girl came up to our table on Friday and struck up a conversation with me. She was actually quite hot-looking, and I gathered she was a Nige babe ‘cos of her name. Men the girl had to be one of the fakest people I’d ever met and I swear after like fifteen minutes, you’d have thought it was a job interview.
Me- So where do you usually party?
Chick-Well I come here a lot, I also love Crystal and Boujis…..
Me- Boujis abi? How long have you been in England for?
Chick- Errrm….since 2003
Me- Wow, only four years. So why are you giving me the hard British accent now?
Chick- It’s just the way I talk.
Me- Yeah right. I moved to England when I was 14, and I’m not speaking to you with a British accent.
Chick- Well, I lived in England when I was very young so….
Me-Really? Awon English babes….
At some point during the conversation, the babe tells me how great a cook she is, so I ask her what she can cook.
Chick- I make very lovely Spaghetti Bolognese, sirloin steak, stuff like that.
I’m looking bored.
Me-That’s it? What else?
Chick- I can actually make nice mussel pasta too….
What the? Is this girl drunk? I’m sure she’s an amala specialist.
Me- I mean, you’re telling me you can cook all these things that I could just pick up from an Italian spot. Matter of fact, I can cook most of that stuff myself. What’s sexy to me is a girl who can cook Nige food. Now that’s hot.
Chick- Well I can cook jollof rice, fried rice, stew….
Me- Really? It’s getting a little more interesting now. How about more traditional stuff? Like efo?
Chick- Oh spinach? I’m great at that!
Me- Nice..what else?
Chick- I can also make this soup, I can’t remember the name of it now….errr..
Me- You can’t remember what it’s called?? Hmm…..what’s it look like?
Chick- Well it’s usually very dark, and it draw….it’s gooey….kinda like okra….
Me- Gooey abi?
Chick- Yes….errr….
The joker almost said “it draws.”
Me- Ogbono?
Chick- Yes! That’s it.
Me- You’re telling me you didn’t remember it was called that?
Chick- Haha, I did. I just didn’t wanna say it.
Me- ‘Cos you think it’s not cute to say ‘ogbono?’
The babe was just sitting there laughing o.
Chick- It’s not cute at all.
If I slap this razz babe. I swear I was so irritated I felt like pouring my drink over her head. Ah ah! How pretentious can people be? I bet you she speaks some ethnic Nigerian language at home and chops slap whenever her popsi’s eba is not ready on time! Joker.
It’s amazing how fake people are men. Keep it real!
Meanwhile the boys and I had a very deep conversation about it the other day. Guys were just chilling, shacking henny and red bull as usual, and we were talking about…..believe it or not…luuurve. Hehe, I know what you’re thinking. Meeeen, I think it’s the quarter-life syndrome men. You start thinking you’ve been there and done that, and kinda wanna settle down right?
Anyhow, it was me, Prettyboy, Roroski and the gang. Prettyboy said you know you’ve found the one when you can honestly be yourself around her all the time. Hmm, my theory was…..you know you’re in love when you know you’re down for a person even when you know all her scoin-scoin. Omo, don’t ask me what scoin-scoin is o….I stole it from ex-schoolnerd, but my boys and I have redefined it and we use it all the time now! Shout out to ESN!
But my people, this was a serious argument o. Prettyboy and I were talking about how, with all the hot chicks we meet, there’s always one scoin-scoin or the other. Always. Now, the argument again, is that it’s love when you love a person despite all the scoin-scoin. You accept it, you’re down for them regardless. Now that’s love. See the thing is, for most of the women I’ve met, I’ve been put off early by one small scoin-scoin, or later by bigger scoin-scoin.
For example, I remember one chick I used to date back in the day. She was a nice intelligent babe, very good-looking and whatnot, but she was extra clingy. Damn! At first I thought it was kinda cute, but men this babe took the term “touchy feely” to another level. I mean there’s nothing wrong with being affectionate, but hot damn! Ah ah! I’ll never forget the first time we slept in the same bed. Omo I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic.
“Yeeeeeee!”
Men I thought I was being strangled. As in, the babe’s body don contort all around my body men. For a split second, I couldn’t make out what the hell was going on. You know when you’re still all groggy from sleep? I come begin find my leg o. Jesus! Wey my leg? Ese mi da???
I couldn’t even make out mine from hers. Inside this heat. Bloody hell. Her arm was wrapped tight around my neck and her mouth was positioned right in front of my nose. Meeeen! And I couldn’t now move ‘cos I didn’t wanna wake her up. Which kin’ wahala be this? Chei! And morning breath just dey pump! Omo I wan faint. Na so I sleep till morning o.
Men, that’s pretty much how we used to sleep. I’d be sweating like a madman in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t yarn. If I moved, she’d adjust herself again. If I turned, she’d wake up and say I was being unaffectionate. Say na wetin she dey used to. Awon boys couldn’t sleep without hugging the babe. Imagine!
This babe eh, she always had to hold hands when we stepped outside my door. EVERY MOMENT. We had to go everywhere together. Had to call her ‘baby.’ And I couldn’t complain o. I no fit tell am anything or she go wan cry. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with calling your woman baby, but when SHE gives herself the title, it starts to bother you. She say she be princess for her papa house. The girl no dey hear word o. Everything na fight. This is how she’s been treated her whole life blah blah. One time I almost said to her “You dey crase. Is this your father’s house?” My peeps, I can’t front, omo I had to dismiss the babe in the end o. That was some messed up scoin-scoin men.
I met one Fola chick one time that was nice as well. Correct chick o, good-looking, sense of humour, e’rrythang! She had a crazy sense of style and I was really feeling the babe. But men, this girl’s nose men. Gaddem! As in, I’m not shallow or anything, but that nose dey distract me men. Kai! Sometimes she would look at me and the nose go just dey expand. No lie! One time I asked the babe, “Are you actually flaring your nostrils?” She said no. Ah ah! Wharra hell! Your nose dey talk again??? Omo, most people would say that was nothing, but that small scoin-scoin was enough to put me off men. Hehe, trivial I know, but I’m just keeping it real.
I’ll never forget Simi though. This babe was an all-round winner. I had met her at my boy’s housewarming party, and we made plans to go do shisha the next week. Men, we hung out and she was a laugh. Beautiful babe men, dimples, everything. Just hot. Mo like e gan. After our first date, we came back to my place so that she could pick up her car and drive home. I now invited her in for a coffee . We’re sitting on the couch, and next thing I know, she’s like “Where’s your bathroom please?” I show it to her and I notice say the babe rush one kin’ to enter. She was in there very briefly but omo when she came out eh?
Chineke God of Africa! The pong! Whaaaaaa?
I wanted to ask the babe what the hell kinda block she had deposited in my bathroom in such a short period. But I no talk anything sha, I just maintained like there was nothing now. I remember the girl going back and forth between my couch and the bathroom a couple of times and at the time I guessed she was fixing up her make-up or some kinda girly stuff, you know? But the girl dey sweat. I asked her “Are you okay?” She said she was fine. Why this babe dey look flustered like this now? Anyhow sha, after a couple cappuccinos, the babe went home.
My people, after the girl left, I went into the bathroom. I no know wetin me sef I dey find o. The place was still stinking, but no yawah now, it’s normal to take a dump, no? I opened the window and then pulled up the toilet seat.
ELEDUMARE O!
This babe still had one little floater hanging around in there ni sha. Ah ah! Men, if you see the way I flew out of that toilet eh? Damn! Morrafuckin’ babe! And if you saw her on the street, you'd think she was one of those calendar models wey no dey mess.
Hmmmph! Meeeen, I couldn’t bring myself to call that chick again men. The babe sef didn’t call me back. I actually might still have called her, but her behaviour and reaction to her own block just put me off men. She for just tell awon boys say her belle dey worry am now, no problem. When I called her for the last time that night to make sure that she had gotten home safe, the girl was even trying to be a little cold on the phone. Na wa o. What the hell kind of scoin-scoin is that? After you don blast-scatter my toilet?
Funny enough, I saw the babe at some sushi bar a while after that. I was with a couple of my colleagues, and she was with her girlfriends. She even tried to pose o. I just gave her a wink from my table like, “Hmm, master blaster. How far?”
Men, my boys say sometimes I’m a little too resistant to scoin-scoin. It’s not that men. If I can’t stand your scoin-scoin, it just means I’m not feeling you like that. Like I know some people whose babes fart in front of them. CHILL! I haven’t graduated to that level yet men, but I’m sure I will with time. Chei! I doubt it though. If my babe even thinks about messing in bed, I tell her oya oya go outside the room and go and do it. Abeg!
Ladies don’t get it twisted o. I’m not saying it’s only girls that have scoin-scoin o. I know we guys have our own too. Even more than women I’m sure. There are small things that irritate me men, like the way a person eats, and sometimes I look at some dudes, and think “This guy’s babe is trying o!” The scoin-scoin that women tolerate!
Case in point: My boy Akinzo. Gaaaaaaadem! If you see Akinzo eating eh, it’s one of the most disgusting things you’ll ever witness men. I remember when we first moved in together, I used to ask the guy, “This dude, na fight? Why you dey attack the food like that now?” My guy would have oil dribbling out the corners of his mouth and everything, and wouldn’t bother wiping it off until he had finished his meal.
Well, no problem now. I’m thinking Akinzo only eats like this at home. Omo, not so o. You see, Akinzo and I worked for the same company for like six months. We’d go out to lunch with colleagues from work sometimes, and my guy would crack the bones off the buffalo wings like there was no tomorrow. Omo, sucking and everything. Oyinbo go just dey look am. Imagine. I’d even be giving the guy eye sometimes like, “E don do now. The chicken don finish.” The guy would just blank me.
And Akinzo always used to buy Nige food from this lady who drove around selling take-away packs from the back of her van. I never could buy that stuff men, you know how sometimes Nigerian food abroad is some second-class take on real Nigerian grub? That’s how this woman’s food was. She’d have rice with a lot of stew just poured untidily over it. It certainly wasn’t the type of thing you’d wanna eat in public.
So that’s how one day my guy ordered food from the lady o. In my head I’m thinking, “Awwww, hell no! This dude is not gonna eat this ish at work.”
Akinzo ran downstairs and came back upstairs with his box of food. He laid it out on the table and started eating. Needless to say now, the whole place reeked of stew. Oyinbo colleagues now started walking past, looking at Akinzo’s meal, then using style to give each other those their amebo glances like "Mr. black man don come again!"
My boy didn’t even send, he was just quaffing away. At some point, Mr. Davies, my boss looked in at Akinzo, who was battling a big chunk of cowleg.
Oga- Akinz!
Akinzo-Huhn?
Oga (looking terrified)-What the hell is that???
Akinzo (grinning with oil all over his lips)-It’s cowleg.
Oga-What?
Akinzo- Cowleg! It’s very good.
You should have seen the look on my boss’ face. He just rushed past me in the corridor. I was so embarrassed. This Akinzo sef. She na for office you go come dey chop cowleg?
Akinzo left for Nige not long after that, and I remember going for lunch with Mr.Davies and one other oga. Mr. Davies says,
“Scott, Akinz has moved back to his homeland Nigeria. I kid you not, one day I saw that kid gnawing on a cow’s hoof in the office at lunch time. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen. I thought I was gonna puke. That African kid- I tell you, he exhibited some real cannibalistic traits. You ever see that boy eat chicken wings? He would devour it right down to the bone, sucking in the marrow and everything! That kid would only leave shrapnel on his plate by the time he was done!”
The other oga looked terrified.
Omo, I wanted to cover my head in shame. Bloody hell mate.
Damn, how did I end up talking about Akinzo’s eating habits? Men I don digress as usual. But my point is, the guy had a babe and she loved him with all his dietary scoin-scoins. So love your woman/man guys, scoin-scoin and all, it’s a beautiful thing!
Shout out to my homegirl Vickii whose sister Kitty just got married! Happy married life y'all!
Oh and thanks guys for all the comments and e-mails! mr.fineboy@hotmail.com
But on the real, I literally spent like one straight 24 hour period at the library last week. Some people have even been telling me to quit blogging until after my exams, but i can't leave y'all man. Not for nothing. It’s all good though, it’ll be over soon.
The weekend was great men. We hit the club on Friday night, and it was a such a laugh. If you know me, then you know I’m a serial clowner. I love clowning girls I talk to, ‘cos their reaction usually tells you what they’re like. Really confident women usually just laugh or clown you back. The arrogant or insecure ones just get really pissed quickly. Anyways, so this girl came up to our table on Friday and struck up a conversation with me. She was actually quite hot-looking, and I gathered she was a Nige babe ‘cos of her name. Men the girl had to be one of the fakest people I’d ever met and I swear after like fifteen minutes, you’d have thought it was a job interview.
Me- So where do you usually party?
Chick-Well I come here a lot, I also love Crystal and Boujis…..
Me- Boujis abi? How long have you been in England for?
Chick- Errrm….since 2003
Me- Wow, only four years. So why are you giving me the hard British accent now?
Chick- It’s just the way I talk.
Me- Yeah right. I moved to England when I was 14, and I’m not speaking to you with a British accent.
Chick- Well, I lived in England when I was very young so….
Me-Really? Awon English babes….
At some point during the conversation, the babe tells me how great a cook she is, so I ask her what she can cook.
Chick- I make very lovely Spaghetti Bolognese, sirloin steak, stuff like that.
I’m looking bored.
Me-That’s it? What else?
Chick- I can actually make nice mussel pasta too….
What the? Is this girl drunk? I’m sure she’s an amala specialist.
Me- I mean, you’re telling me you can cook all these things that I could just pick up from an Italian spot. Matter of fact, I can cook most of that stuff myself. What’s sexy to me is a girl who can cook Nige food. Now that’s hot.
Chick- Well I can cook jollof rice, fried rice, stew….
Me- Really? It’s getting a little more interesting now. How about more traditional stuff? Like efo?
Chick- Oh spinach? I’m great at that!
Me- Nice..what else?
Chick- I can also make this soup, I can’t remember the name of it now….errr..
Me- You can’t remember what it’s called?? Hmm…..what’s it look like?
Chick- Well it’s usually very dark, and it draw….it’s gooey….kinda like okra….
Me- Gooey abi?
Chick- Yes….errr….
The joker almost said “it draws.”
Me- Ogbono?
Chick- Yes! That’s it.
Me- You’re telling me you didn’t remember it was called that?
Chick- Haha, I did. I just didn’t wanna say it.
Me- ‘Cos you think it’s not cute to say ‘ogbono?’
The babe was just sitting there laughing o.
Chick- It’s not cute at all.
If I slap this razz babe. I swear I was so irritated I felt like pouring my drink over her head. Ah ah! How pretentious can people be? I bet you she speaks some ethnic Nigerian language at home and chops slap whenever her popsi’s eba is not ready on time! Joker.
It’s amazing how fake people are men. Keep it real!
Meanwhile the boys and I had a very deep conversation about it the other day. Guys were just chilling, shacking henny and red bull as usual, and we were talking about…..believe it or not…luuurve. Hehe, I know what you’re thinking. Meeeen, I think it’s the quarter-life syndrome men. You start thinking you’ve been there and done that, and kinda wanna settle down right?
Anyhow, it was me, Prettyboy, Roroski and the gang. Prettyboy said you know you’ve found the one when you can honestly be yourself around her all the time. Hmm, my theory was…..you know you’re in love when you know you’re down for a person even when you know all her scoin-scoin. Omo, don’t ask me what scoin-scoin is o….I stole it from ex-schoolnerd, but my boys and I have redefined it and we use it all the time now! Shout out to ESN!
But my people, this was a serious argument o. Prettyboy and I were talking about how, with all the hot chicks we meet, there’s always one scoin-scoin or the other. Always. Now, the argument again, is that it’s love when you love a person despite all the scoin-scoin. You accept it, you’re down for them regardless. Now that’s love. See the thing is, for most of the women I’ve met, I’ve been put off early by one small scoin-scoin, or later by bigger scoin-scoin.
For example, I remember one chick I used to date back in the day. She was a nice intelligent babe, very good-looking and whatnot, but she was extra clingy. Damn! At first I thought it was kinda cute, but men this babe took the term “touchy feely” to another level. I mean there’s nothing wrong with being affectionate, but hot damn! Ah ah! I’ll never forget the first time we slept in the same bed. Omo I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic.
“Yeeeeeee!”
Men I thought I was being strangled. As in, the babe’s body don contort all around my body men. For a split second, I couldn’t make out what the hell was going on. You know when you’re still all groggy from sleep? I come begin find my leg o. Jesus! Wey my leg? Ese mi da???
I couldn’t even make out mine from hers. Inside this heat. Bloody hell. Her arm was wrapped tight around my neck and her mouth was positioned right in front of my nose. Meeeen! And I couldn’t now move ‘cos I didn’t wanna wake her up. Which kin’ wahala be this? Chei! And morning breath just dey pump! Omo I wan faint. Na so I sleep till morning o.
Men, that’s pretty much how we used to sleep. I’d be sweating like a madman in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t yarn. If I moved, she’d adjust herself again. If I turned, she’d wake up and say I was being unaffectionate. Say na wetin she dey used to. Awon boys couldn’t sleep without hugging the babe. Imagine!
This babe eh, she always had to hold hands when we stepped outside my door. EVERY MOMENT. We had to go everywhere together. Had to call her ‘baby.’ And I couldn’t complain o. I no fit tell am anything or she go wan cry. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with calling your woman baby, but when SHE gives herself the title, it starts to bother you. She say she be princess for her papa house. The girl no dey hear word o. Everything na fight. This is how she’s been treated her whole life blah blah. One time I almost said to her “You dey crase. Is this your father’s house?” My peeps, I can’t front, omo I had to dismiss the babe in the end o. That was some messed up scoin-scoin men.
I met one Fola chick one time that was nice as well. Correct chick o, good-looking, sense of humour, e’rrythang! She had a crazy sense of style and I was really feeling the babe. But men, this girl’s nose men. Gaddem! As in, I’m not shallow or anything, but that nose dey distract me men. Kai! Sometimes she would look at me and the nose go just dey expand. No lie! One time I asked the babe, “Are you actually flaring your nostrils?” She said no. Ah ah! Wharra hell! Your nose dey talk again??? Omo, most people would say that was nothing, but that small scoin-scoin was enough to put me off men. Hehe, trivial I know, but I’m just keeping it real.
I’ll never forget Simi though. This babe was an all-round winner. I had met her at my boy’s housewarming party, and we made plans to go do shisha the next week. Men, we hung out and she was a laugh. Beautiful babe men, dimples, everything. Just hot. Mo like e gan. After our first date, we came back to my place so that she could pick up her car and drive home. I now invited her in for a coffee . We’re sitting on the couch, and next thing I know, she’s like “Where’s your bathroom please?” I show it to her and I notice say the babe rush one kin’ to enter. She was in there very briefly but omo when she came out eh?
Chineke God of Africa! The pong! Whaaaaaa?
I wanted to ask the babe what the hell kinda block she had deposited in my bathroom in such a short period. But I no talk anything sha, I just maintained like there was nothing now. I remember the girl going back and forth between my couch and the bathroom a couple of times and at the time I guessed she was fixing up her make-up or some kinda girly stuff, you know? But the girl dey sweat. I asked her “Are you okay?” She said she was fine. Why this babe dey look flustered like this now? Anyhow sha, after a couple cappuccinos, the babe went home.
My people, after the girl left, I went into the bathroom. I no know wetin me sef I dey find o. The place was still stinking, but no yawah now, it’s normal to take a dump, no? I opened the window and then pulled up the toilet seat.
ELEDUMARE O!
This babe still had one little floater hanging around in there ni sha. Ah ah! Men, if you see the way I flew out of that toilet eh? Damn! Morrafuckin’ babe! And if you saw her on the street, you'd think she was one of those calendar models wey no dey mess.
Hmmmph! Meeeen, I couldn’t bring myself to call that chick again men. The babe sef didn’t call me back. I actually might still have called her, but her behaviour and reaction to her own block just put me off men. She for just tell awon boys say her belle dey worry am now, no problem. When I called her for the last time that night to make sure that she had gotten home safe, the girl was even trying to be a little cold on the phone. Na wa o. What the hell kind of scoin-scoin is that? After you don blast-scatter my toilet?
Funny enough, I saw the babe at some sushi bar a while after that. I was with a couple of my colleagues, and she was with her girlfriends. She even tried to pose o. I just gave her a wink from my table like, “Hmm, master blaster. How far?”
Men, my boys say sometimes I’m a little too resistant to scoin-scoin. It’s not that men. If I can’t stand your scoin-scoin, it just means I’m not feeling you like that. Like I know some people whose babes fart in front of them. CHILL! I haven’t graduated to that level yet men, but I’m sure I will with time. Chei! I doubt it though. If my babe even thinks about messing in bed, I tell her oya oya go outside the room and go and do it. Abeg!
Ladies don’t get it twisted o. I’m not saying it’s only girls that have scoin-scoin o. I know we guys have our own too. Even more than women I’m sure. There are small things that irritate me men, like the way a person eats, and sometimes I look at some dudes, and think “This guy’s babe is trying o!” The scoin-scoin that women tolerate!
Case in point: My boy Akinzo. Gaaaaaaadem! If you see Akinzo eating eh, it’s one of the most disgusting things you’ll ever witness men. I remember when we first moved in together, I used to ask the guy, “This dude, na fight? Why you dey attack the food like that now?” My guy would have oil dribbling out the corners of his mouth and everything, and wouldn’t bother wiping it off until he had finished his meal.
Well, no problem now. I’m thinking Akinzo only eats like this at home. Omo, not so o. You see, Akinzo and I worked for the same company for like six months. We’d go out to lunch with colleagues from work sometimes, and my guy would crack the bones off the buffalo wings like there was no tomorrow. Omo, sucking and everything. Oyinbo go just dey look am. Imagine. I’d even be giving the guy eye sometimes like, “E don do now. The chicken don finish.” The guy would just blank me.
And Akinzo always used to buy Nige food from this lady who drove around selling take-away packs from the back of her van. I never could buy that stuff men, you know how sometimes Nigerian food abroad is some second-class take on real Nigerian grub? That’s how this woman’s food was. She’d have rice with a lot of stew just poured untidily over it. It certainly wasn’t the type of thing you’d wanna eat in public.
So that’s how one day my guy ordered food from the lady o. In my head I’m thinking, “Awwww, hell no! This dude is not gonna eat this ish at work.”
Akinzo ran downstairs and came back upstairs with his box of food. He laid it out on the table and started eating. Needless to say now, the whole place reeked of stew. Oyinbo colleagues now started walking past, looking at Akinzo’s meal, then using style to give each other those their amebo glances like "Mr. black man don come again!"
My boy didn’t even send, he was just quaffing away. At some point, Mr. Davies, my boss looked in at Akinzo, who was battling a big chunk of cowleg.
Oga- Akinz!
Akinzo-Huhn?
Oga (looking terrified)-What the hell is that???
Akinzo (grinning with oil all over his lips)-It’s cowleg.
Oga-What?
Akinzo- Cowleg! It’s very good.
You should have seen the look on my boss’ face. He just rushed past me in the corridor. I was so embarrassed. This Akinzo sef. She na for office you go come dey chop cowleg?
Akinzo left for Nige not long after that, and I remember going for lunch with Mr.Davies and one other oga. Mr. Davies says,
“Scott, Akinz has moved back to his homeland Nigeria. I kid you not, one day I saw that kid gnawing on a cow’s hoof in the office at lunch time. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen. I thought I was gonna puke. That African kid- I tell you, he exhibited some real cannibalistic traits. You ever see that boy eat chicken wings? He would devour it right down to the bone, sucking in the marrow and everything! That kid would only leave shrapnel on his plate by the time he was done!”
The other oga looked terrified.
Omo, I wanted to cover my head in shame. Bloody hell mate.
Damn, how did I end up talking about Akinzo’s eating habits? Men I don digress as usual. But my point is, the guy had a babe and she loved him with all his dietary scoin-scoins. So love your woman/man guys, scoin-scoin and all, it’s a beautiful thing!
Shout out to my homegirl Vickii whose sister Kitty just got married! Happy married life y'all!
Oh and thanks guys for all the comments and e-mails! mr.fineboy@hotmail.com
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Soon Come...
Peeps, I'm almost done with my last essay. Soon as I hand this thing in, I'll be back. Relax now, I have some sweet gist for you guys.....soon come.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
An officer and a gentleman.
Long time no holla people...I know it’s been a minute. Too much work to do at the moment. I've been writing essay upon essay, and I'm so tired of thinking, I swear. This master's thing is no joke o. People lied to me man.
Meanwhile, I'm mad because I was at the Nigerian job fair thingy last week friday, and on saturday afternoon one consultancy called and said they wanted me to be at Russell square within the hour for an interview.
At that point, I was in the library writing essays, and I couldn't leave. I just thought, "long thing!" and told them to e-mail me to reschedule. Meanwhile, my boy Roroski went for that 2nd interview, and they offered the guy a job two days later! Damn! Who beg me say make I dey pose? Chai! Now, I've resorted to blowing up the mobile number that they called me with, and I think the woman even locked me off last time I called. Imagine.
Anyway it's all gravy. I got called for a job interview with this other Nige bank on tuesday after taking a competency test for them the day before. They asked me to come in at 9am and I hadn’t gotten home until 12.30am the night before so I was rather upset as it meant very little sleep. Anyways, I got up nice and early, and omo I kak'd my safe dark gray suit, a white shirt and a purple and lilac tie. I denge in front of the mirror. Ha! Mo bad gan!
I got to the venue at like 8.45, thinking "worst case scenario, I'd be out by 10." Not so o. I sat in the waiting room with some JJC-looking guys for like 2 hours before I even got called in!
While we were waiting, the ju-man next to me sha wanted to yarn by force. Now, I'm not anti-social or anything, but when you don't know someone and they just keep talking to you like you’re friends, it's annoying man. My whole body language should have shown this guy that I wasn't interested in conversation, but the guy no wan gree o.
"I'm Vincent."
"How's it going man?"
"Fine thanks. You are?"
"Sorry. Fineboy"
"Okay. Are you very worried about this interview?"
“Not really.”
“Don’t be navos. You must not show navosness because they can see it in your face o. Be very relaxed.”
“Oh okay.”
“I’ve been in this country since 2005, but I want to see what can happen in Nigeria. If the money is very good, I may go.”
“Oh aight.”
Oooooh o! This guy wouldn't let me read my new Soyinka book o.
I was so happy when I finally got called in for the interview. Free from Mr. Vincent, thank God.
I walked in and drew a deep breath. There were three men at the desk. I’m guessing executive directors or something. One of them was quite young, like in his thirties, so I figured he must have been the owner's famous managing director son. I took a seat.
"So tell me about yourself."
I give them a brief monologue, and before I'm even done, the oldest guy asks me,"Why you, why do you want to work here, why?"
I give him one well-rehearsed answer about how great I am, how wonderful their company is, and somewhere along the line I must have used the word "dynamic."
The guy hissed, "We will soon see how dynamic you are!" and looked at my cv.
They now started asking me a bunch of questions including who my father was! NO LIE!
Anyway, in the end, the interview took like 10, 15 minutes, when everybody else’s took like 40. I don’t know what that means men, but we’ll see now.
To be honest, it wasn’t as stressful as I had expected. Before I went in for mine, this girl came out of the room in tears. She was mumbling something about how rude and mean they were and apparently she just walked out before the interview was even over. I don already make up my mind say if those guys talk nonsense to me for there, I’d abuse somebody’s father. I kuku already have a job offer in London.
The truth though is that it was actually mild compared to the 2nd round interview I had with a big bank in London last year.
Omo, that one was quite mad. There were two top boys from the company and if you see the way they scrutinized my cv eh? At one point, they were asking me questions from it, and I swear I wanted to peek and see what I had written on the cv, because omo, I no remember everything on that thing men.
“What is your greatest quality?”
“You are aware that our firm hires only the brightest brains in the business, aren’t you? Why should we pick YOU?”
Men, it was a sweatbox in there. I was pissing my pants. I got asked all sorts of questions, including ratios and percentages and all sorts. Thankfully, I’m pretty good with general knowledge stuff, so I kinda coasted through. Then the bombshell.
“Mr.Fineboy, can you tell me how many airplanes are presently flying in British airspace at this moment?”
Chei! What the hell kinda question is that?? I was about to start sweating, because I know say lailai I no know that one o. I thought for a second…..
“More than one, that’s for sure!”
The man looked at me for a second and then just burst out laughing. Whew! They must have liked the answer because I hold an offer from them now, but me I wan go naija men.
Without a doubt, that was the hardest interview I’d ever had. The easiest one was the one I had for my first job ever in Yankee. I was a freshman at University and Akinzo had called me to say he knew a place where we could make some part-time dough. Awon boys were broke students, so I told the guy, “I’m down o, as long as it isn’t working in a shop or something.”
The guy assured me that it wasn’t and was some administrative gig, and the next day we drove up to this building. As we got out of the car, Akinzo said,
“FB, I lied yesterday. This thing is for a security job o….”
The madman burst out laughing, while I stood there stunned.
Secure-kini??
I wanted to turn around, but it was too late. Akinzo said it wasn’t like Nige security anyway, all we’d have to do was sit at some desk in some faraway building and nobody’d see us. And we’d also be getting paid like $12.00 an hour.
Omo, I think am! At the time, $12.00 and hour was good kishi o. I could be using that one for extra pocket money, since Chief Fineboy dey always do anyhow when it was time to settle boys. So we went in, and filled out one easy-ass test that seemed more like a questionnaire. They called each of us for interviews immediately.
The bobo was just happy to have college students interviewing for jobs with them. Under like 5 minutes, the guy invited us to come for an orientation session two days later.
At the session, come hear toooory! There were like 1 million rules. This is what you do when you see something suspicious. This is what you do when this….This is what you do when that….
Never arrest a suspect. Emi? Who was planning on arresting anybody?
Wear your uniform with pride. God punish you.
Always show deference and respect to your superior officers. E no go better for superior officer.
This is not a job, it’s a career. Na your papa go get this kin’ career.
Anyhow, that’s how I started work o. They put me in this pharmaceutical building after hours. There were like three other guys on the shift. Let me not lie, when I first got that uniform, I like am small o. Dark grey pants, light grey shirt, grey tie (clip-on), grey bomber jacket, with a gold badge that had my Officer no. on it.
I denge in front mirror. Hmm. Officer Fineboy.The uniform was just like a policeman’s uniform. This is the sort of thing that I’d have killed for as a kid. I now started practising.
“Hays! Stop there!”
“Ma’am calm down…I’m just trying to do my job..”
“Radio radio…10-4 10-4, whats your location?”
Omo I don mad finish. I went to the building. They gave me instructions and I sat down in front of one monitor that had nine small surveillance screens on them. The supervisor told me there was a camera watching me, and I wasn’t allowed to doze even for one second. Na wa o. That’s when it began dawning on me. See my life. I sat staring at that boring screen for hours, and it was like watching paint dry men.
After like an hour, the guy told me on radio that it was my turn to do the rounds. He came up and gave me one wand and a map, telling me all the spots that I had to hit around the premises before I came back. No problem now.
That’s how I went outside. OMO! If you see the premises, it was like a huge factory or something with woods at the back, and I had to go into all these buildings and boiler rooms and stores. Fear catch me die! I was just thinking all sorts of things. Ha! At like 12 am o, and all I had in my hand was a torch.
I had just begun my round, walking slowly across the dark yard when one of the other guys came on the radio “Oficer Fineboy, don’t worry too much about the snakes on the premises. They’re harmless. You might also see a raccoon or a deer, but nothing dangerous.”
Oloshi. That even scared me more. Heeee! God who begged me o? I was just thinking, this America, any kin’ animal fit come chop person for here o. Or even serial killer. I was just praying throughout.
I finally got back to the desk after like an hour, by which time I had made up my mind that there was no way I was coming back on day 2. For what now? Because of $12.00 an hour? God forbid bad thing. Before the end of my eight-hour shift, I had to do the rounds again twice.
The next time I went on the rounds, it was 3am. I remembered one houseboy that we once had in Nige, Dennis telling me that 3 am was the hour when witches used to have their meetings. Jesus Christ! I know I was a grown-ass man, but men when I stepped out into that pitch-darkness with nothing but that yeye flashlight, omo fear catch me no be small.
I just started walking slowly around the premises, flashing their pangolo torch. I wasn’t even inspecting their bloody grounds, I was on the lookout for any possible ogbanje or witch that might jump out of the woods. Not like there was anywhere to run. Fear catch me no be small men. I just kept asking myself over and over again who sent me.
As I made my way into one dingy boiler room, one of those idiots shouted over the radio. “Officer Fineboy, everything okay?”
I almost jumped out of my skin! The crackle scared the shit outta me men, I think say na one oyinbo ghost don appear.
The two other officers now started talking to each other (they were in different parts of the building) about ghosts and the supernatural, and whether or not it really existed. Omo! I wan slap person men! Why the hell would someone be talking about that kinda thing at 3am when I’m walking around some huge yard by myself? Bastards!
By the time I got back to the desk, my mind was made up! I wasn’t coming back men.
When I got home in the morning, I called the office and told them I wouldn’t be working anymore. The oga was very sympathetic o. He said he absolutely understood but wouldn’t want to lose one of his college kids.
The guy was just giving me one long story to disncourage me from leaving, and then finally offered to transfer me to another site. He promised that I wouldn’t have to do any strange midnight rounds, and there’d be no cameras on the client site watching my every move.
Na so I gree o. That’s how the guy moved me to some place called Falls Village and gave me directions. Omo, that afternoon, as I drove towards the place, I remembered that it was one shopping centre like that! Yeeeee! It wasn’t like a mall, it was more like a complex of stores. Jesus Christ! On a Saturday afternoon! Gaddem! Men, there was no telling who I could jam there.
When I resumed, the dude who I was taking over from told me that I could just drive around in my car, and come out at intervals. He told me that the biggest problems in that area were people loitering at the back of some restaurant, and teenagers spray painting graffiti on the walls.
Ope o! At least I’d be able to harass some kids that would be afraid of an officer on patrol.
I laid low for the first two hours, just driving around incognito until the supervisor called me on the company cellphone to say that one bookstore had complained about some kids smoking weed behind their building.
Correct! Time for action! I drove to the back of the bookstore and spotted the kids.
I sped my car up to them and braked sharply. I started to jump out of the car, and omo that’s when I noticed say these ones no be small teenagers o. I had already started shouting then and it was too late to retract..
“Excuse me gentlemen!”
One big tall ghetto-looking gangster type type in oversized jeans and one long-ass t-shirt turned around.
“What up???” The guy stuck his chest out as if he was ready for action.
The other guys come bone up. Jesus Christ! These ones fit scatter person head o. Na my papa company?
“No problem at all gentlemen. Just making sure everything’s alright. Have a nice day guys.”
“Right back at chu, homie.”
Omo, if you see the way I sped off eh? I called the supervisor.
“I’ve taken care of the situation, S/O.”
Olori buruku. You dey find who una go take experiment abi? Then when gangsta boys break my head, you’ll say I was a model officer abi? Not Fineboy.
When I got home that day, I called my popsi. I knew that if I told him I’d been working security, he would flip. His own son, working security? He would increase my pocket money sharp sharp.
“Dad, I have something to tell you. You wouldn’t believe it.”
“What’s that son?”
“I’ve been working as a security guard.”
He burst out laughing.
“Haha…son, do you mean you’re a mai-guard?”
Is this man trying to be funny?
“Pretty much.”
“That’s great. Such experiences only help to mould you in your journey toward manhood. I commend your bravery son. Have you succeeded in apprehending any criminals running afoul of the law?”
Imagine!
Men I went back to that office and returned their dirty uniforms after only a week. Apprehend ko, Apprehend ni.
I'll holla at y'all.....it's a very busy time guys, but I’ll try to update again soon, I promise!
Meanwhile, I'm mad because I was at the Nigerian job fair thingy last week friday, and on saturday afternoon one consultancy called and said they wanted me to be at Russell square within the hour for an interview.
At that point, I was in the library writing essays, and I couldn't leave. I just thought, "long thing!" and told them to e-mail me to reschedule. Meanwhile, my boy Roroski went for that 2nd interview, and they offered the guy a job two days later! Damn! Who beg me say make I dey pose? Chai! Now, I've resorted to blowing up the mobile number that they called me with, and I think the woman even locked me off last time I called. Imagine.
Anyway it's all gravy. I got called for a job interview with this other Nige bank on tuesday after taking a competency test for them the day before. They asked me to come in at 9am and I hadn’t gotten home until 12.30am the night before so I was rather upset as it meant very little sleep. Anyways, I got up nice and early, and omo I kak'd my safe dark gray suit, a white shirt and a purple and lilac tie. I denge in front of the mirror. Ha! Mo bad gan!
I got to the venue at like 8.45, thinking "worst case scenario, I'd be out by 10." Not so o. I sat in the waiting room with some JJC-looking guys for like 2 hours before I even got called in!
While we were waiting, the ju-man next to me sha wanted to yarn by force. Now, I'm not anti-social or anything, but when you don't know someone and they just keep talking to you like you’re friends, it's annoying man. My whole body language should have shown this guy that I wasn't interested in conversation, but the guy no wan gree o.
"I'm Vincent."
"How's it going man?"
"Fine thanks. You are?"
"Sorry. Fineboy"
"Okay. Are you very worried about this interview?"
“Not really.”
“Don’t be navos. You must not show navosness because they can see it in your face o. Be very relaxed.”
“Oh okay.”
“I’ve been in this country since 2005, but I want to see what can happen in Nigeria. If the money is very good, I may go.”
“Oh aight.”
Oooooh o! This guy wouldn't let me read my new Soyinka book o.
I was so happy when I finally got called in for the interview. Free from Mr. Vincent, thank God.
I walked in and drew a deep breath. There were three men at the desk. I’m guessing executive directors or something. One of them was quite young, like in his thirties, so I figured he must have been the owner's famous managing director son. I took a seat.
"So tell me about yourself."
I give them a brief monologue, and before I'm even done, the oldest guy asks me,"Why you, why do you want to work here, why?"
I give him one well-rehearsed answer about how great I am, how wonderful their company is, and somewhere along the line I must have used the word "dynamic."
The guy hissed, "We will soon see how dynamic you are!" and looked at my cv.
They now started asking me a bunch of questions including who my father was! NO LIE!
Anyway, in the end, the interview took like 10, 15 minutes, when everybody else’s took like 40. I don’t know what that means men, but we’ll see now.
To be honest, it wasn’t as stressful as I had expected. Before I went in for mine, this girl came out of the room in tears. She was mumbling something about how rude and mean they were and apparently she just walked out before the interview was even over. I don already make up my mind say if those guys talk nonsense to me for there, I’d abuse somebody’s father. I kuku already have a job offer in London.
The truth though is that it was actually mild compared to the 2nd round interview I had with a big bank in London last year.
Omo, that one was quite mad. There were two top boys from the company and if you see the way they scrutinized my cv eh? At one point, they were asking me questions from it, and I swear I wanted to peek and see what I had written on the cv, because omo, I no remember everything on that thing men.
“What is your greatest quality?”
“You are aware that our firm hires only the brightest brains in the business, aren’t you? Why should we pick YOU?”
Men, it was a sweatbox in there. I was pissing my pants. I got asked all sorts of questions, including ratios and percentages and all sorts. Thankfully, I’m pretty good with general knowledge stuff, so I kinda coasted through. Then the bombshell.
“Mr.Fineboy, can you tell me how many airplanes are presently flying in British airspace at this moment?”
Chei! What the hell kinda question is that?? I was about to start sweating, because I know say lailai I no know that one o. I thought for a second…..
“More than one, that’s for sure!”
The man looked at me for a second and then just burst out laughing. Whew! They must have liked the answer because I hold an offer from them now, but me I wan go naija men.
Without a doubt, that was the hardest interview I’d ever had. The easiest one was the one I had for my first job ever in Yankee. I was a freshman at University and Akinzo had called me to say he knew a place where we could make some part-time dough. Awon boys were broke students, so I told the guy, “I’m down o, as long as it isn’t working in a shop or something.”
The guy assured me that it wasn’t and was some administrative gig, and the next day we drove up to this building. As we got out of the car, Akinzo said,
“FB, I lied yesterday. This thing is for a security job o….”
The madman burst out laughing, while I stood there stunned.
Secure-kini??
I wanted to turn around, but it was too late. Akinzo said it wasn’t like Nige security anyway, all we’d have to do was sit at some desk in some faraway building and nobody’d see us. And we’d also be getting paid like $12.00 an hour.
Omo, I think am! At the time, $12.00 and hour was good kishi o. I could be using that one for extra pocket money, since Chief Fineboy dey always do anyhow when it was time to settle boys. So we went in, and filled out one easy-ass test that seemed more like a questionnaire. They called each of us for interviews immediately.
The bobo was just happy to have college students interviewing for jobs with them. Under like 5 minutes, the guy invited us to come for an orientation session two days later.
At the session, come hear toooory! There were like 1 million rules. This is what you do when you see something suspicious. This is what you do when this….This is what you do when that….
Never arrest a suspect. Emi? Who was planning on arresting anybody?
Wear your uniform with pride. God punish you.
Always show deference and respect to your superior officers. E no go better for superior officer.
This is not a job, it’s a career. Na your papa go get this kin’ career.
Anyhow, that’s how I started work o. They put me in this pharmaceutical building after hours. There were like three other guys on the shift. Let me not lie, when I first got that uniform, I like am small o. Dark grey pants, light grey shirt, grey tie (clip-on), grey bomber jacket, with a gold badge that had my Officer no. on it.
I denge in front mirror. Hmm. Officer Fineboy.The uniform was just like a policeman’s uniform. This is the sort of thing that I’d have killed for as a kid. I now started practising.
“Hays! Stop there!”
“Ma’am calm down…I’m just trying to do my job..”
“Radio radio…10-4 10-4, whats your location?”
Omo I don mad finish. I went to the building. They gave me instructions and I sat down in front of one monitor that had nine small surveillance screens on them. The supervisor told me there was a camera watching me, and I wasn’t allowed to doze even for one second. Na wa o. That’s when it began dawning on me. See my life. I sat staring at that boring screen for hours, and it was like watching paint dry men.
After like an hour, the guy told me on radio that it was my turn to do the rounds. He came up and gave me one wand and a map, telling me all the spots that I had to hit around the premises before I came back. No problem now.
That’s how I went outside. OMO! If you see the premises, it was like a huge factory or something with woods at the back, and I had to go into all these buildings and boiler rooms and stores. Fear catch me die! I was just thinking all sorts of things. Ha! At like 12 am o, and all I had in my hand was a torch.
I had just begun my round, walking slowly across the dark yard when one of the other guys came on the radio “Oficer Fineboy, don’t worry too much about the snakes on the premises. They’re harmless. You might also see a raccoon or a deer, but nothing dangerous.”
Oloshi. That even scared me more. Heeee! God who begged me o? I was just thinking, this America, any kin’ animal fit come chop person for here o. Or even serial killer. I was just praying throughout.
I finally got back to the desk after like an hour, by which time I had made up my mind that there was no way I was coming back on day 2. For what now? Because of $12.00 an hour? God forbid bad thing. Before the end of my eight-hour shift, I had to do the rounds again twice.
The next time I went on the rounds, it was 3am. I remembered one houseboy that we once had in Nige, Dennis telling me that 3 am was the hour when witches used to have their meetings. Jesus Christ! I know I was a grown-ass man, but men when I stepped out into that pitch-darkness with nothing but that yeye flashlight, omo fear catch me no be small.
I just started walking slowly around the premises, flashing their pangolo torch. I wasn’t even inspecting their bloody grounds, I was on the lookout for any possible ogbanje or witch that might jump out of the woods. Not like there was anywhere to run. Fear catch me no be small men. I just kept asking myself over and over again who sent me.
As I made my way into one dingy boiler room, one of those idiots shouted over the radio. “Officer Fineboy, everything okay?”
I almost jumped out of my skin! The crackle scared the shit outta me men, I think say na one oyinbo ghost don appear.
The two other officers now started talking to each other (they were in different parts of the building) about ghosts and the supernatural, and whether or not it really existed. Omo! I wan slap person men! Why the hell would someone be talking about that kinda thing at 3am when I’m walking around some huge yard by myself? Bastards!
By the time I got back to the desk, my mind was made up! I wasn’t coming back men.
When I got home in the morning, I called the office and told them I wouldn’t be working anymore. The oga was very sympathetic o. He said he absolutely understood but wouldn’t want to lose one of his college kids.
The guy was just giving me one long story to disncourage me from leaving, and then finally offered to transfer me to another site. He promised that I wouldn’t have to do any strange midnight rounds, and there’d be no cameras on the client site watching my every move.
Na so I gree o. That’s how the guy moved me to some place called Falls Village and gave me directions. Omo, that afternoon, as I drove towards the place, I remembered that it was one shopping centre like that! Yeeeee! It wasn’t like a mall, it was more like a complex of stores. Jesus Christ! On a Saturday afternoon! Gaddem! Men, there was no telling who I could jam there.
When I resumed, the dude who I was taking over from told me that I could just drive around in my car, and come out at intervals. He told me that the biggest problems in that area were people loitering at the back of some restaurant, and teenagers spray painting graffiti on the walls.
Ope o! At least I’d be able to harass some kids that would be afraid of an officer on patrol.
I laid low for the first two hours, just driving around incognito until the supervisor called me on the company cellphone to say that one bookstore had complained about some kids smoking weed behind their building.
Correct! Time for action! I drove to the back of the bookstore and spotted the kids.
I sped my car up to them and braked sharply. I started to jump out of the car, and omo that’s when I noticed say these ones no be small teenagers o. I had already started shouting then and it was too late to retract..
“Excuse me gentlemen!”
One big tall ghetto-looking gangster type type in oversized jeans and one long-ass t-shirt turned around.
“What up???” The guy stuck his chest out as if he was ready for action.
The other guys come bone up. Jesus Christ! These ones fit scatter person head o. Na my papa company?
“No problem at all gentlemen. Just making sure everything’s alright. Have a nice day guys.”
“Right back at chu, homie.”
Omo, if you see the way I sped off eh? I called the supervisor.
“I’ve taken care of the situation, S/O.”
Olori buruku. You dey find who una go take experiment abi? Then when gangsta boys break my head, you’ll say I was a model officer abi? Not Fineboy.
When I got home that day, I called my popsi. I knew that if I told him I’d been working security, he would flip. His own son, working security? He would increase my pocket money sharp sharp.
“Dad, I have something to tell you. You wouldn’t believe it.”
“What’s that son?”
“I’ve been working as a security guard.”
He burst out laughing.
“Haha…son, do you mean you’re a mai-guard?”
Is this man trying to be funny?
“Pretty much.”
“That’s great. Such experiences only help to mould you in your journey toward manhood. I commend your bravery son. Have you succeeded in apprehending any criminals running afoul of the law?”
Imagine!
Men I went back to that office and returned their dirty uniforms after only a week. Apprehend ko, Apprehend ni.
I'll holla at y'all.....it's a very busy time guys, but I’ll try to update again soon, I promise!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
For The 32.....
Over the New Ridge valley they float
32 Hokies now in Paradise’s bliss
Questions unanswered, futures cut short
Shots ringing, no back talk
32 fighting gobblers
Taken away
Another mother’s tears, painful anguish
Suit ready for graduation now burial kit
Another brother’s pain, another dream deferred
A family’s hopeful plans put aside
On new angels’wings, forever blown away
A bumbling lunatic has called their time,
In his mind a protagonist in his twisted tale
Why he took them we will never know
Jealous rage or meticulously planned
It makes no difference to a mourning Dad
God be the judge
For Emily who was first killed
Another mother’s daughter unfairly snatched away
For Livu, brave professor who resisted Nazis
And defended students in the face of certain death
For Ryan the RA who tried to make peace
And the other 30 who now reside in Heaven’s plains
Today we are all Hokies
Former fighting gobblers, in maroon sweaters
Today we are all from Blacksburg, home of the hills
Today we walk the Blue ridge mountains proudly again
And resolutely wear our colors, shouting “Ut Prosim”
Our Hokie motto still “That we may serve”
Today We are Virginia Tech
-Mr.Fineboy
32 Hokies now in Paradise’s bliss
Questions unanswered, futures cut short
Shots ringing, no back talk
32 fighting gobblers
Taken away
Another mother’s tears, painful anguish
Suit ready for graduation now burial kit
Another brother’s pain, another dream deferred
A family’s hopeful plans put aside
On new angels’wings, forever blown away
A bumbling lunatic has called their time,
In his mind a protagonist in his twisted tale
Why he took them we will never know
Jealous rage or meticulously planned
It makes no difference to a mourning Dad
God be the judge
For Emily who was first killed
Another mother’s daughter unfairly snatched away
For Livu, brave professor who resisted Nazis
And defended students in the face of certain death
For Ryan the RA who tried to make peace
And the other 30 who now reside in Heaven’s plains
Today we are all Hokies
Former fighting gobblers, in maroon sweaters
Today we are all from Blacksburg, home of the hills
Today we walk the Blue ridge mountains proudly again
And resolutely wear our colors, shouting “Ut Prosim”
Our Hokie motto still “That we may serve”
Today We are Virginia Tech
-Mr.Fineboy
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
In a bit...
Soon come guys! Just finishing essays, abeg no vex! May the Virginia Tech victims rest in peace...
Monday, April 09, 2007
Grandma's grandson
My blogsville people! Long time no speak! No vex abeg, I’ve been enjoying the loooong Easter break a little too much. It’s been fun man. Hanging with Prettyboy, Roroski and the fam. My adventures with Prettyboy will be discussed soon. One word...legendary. Meanwhile, this break sweet o. As it is sef, I’m shacking Heineken with my grandmomsi.
Hehe….I know what you’re thinking….Fine Grandma is a bad-ass o. She arrived last week, and she has been really cracking me up. I love her ‘cos she’s a real streetwise Lagos madam. She’s actually my great-aunt, my maternal grandmother’s younger sister, but we’ve always called her grandma. I was literally her handbag when I was a kid...the woman is alright with me men.
“Fineboy o o strong o! You only drank three Heinekens and you’re blinking like an idiot. What would you do when you drink two Gulders?”
“I can’t handle Gulder o. I like Star..”
“Star? Stout nko?”
“Can’t drink it. Too bitter.”
“Weak boy! You don’t know it’s good for Finebabe?”
“Huh?”
“If you drink it, you’ll be very solid for Finebabe o. Strong and solid! She will never leave you.”
“Oh!” I got the message and burst out laughing.
Imagine! This seventy-one year old mama. Yesterday, we were reminiscing about Nigeria and I almost died of laughter men, especially when she reminded me about our 'armed robber' ordeal.
Make I yarn una. Ha! See your ears! You like toooory!
Anyhow, like 10 years ago, there was a bunch of us at my grandma’s house in ‘Lere. There was Fine grandma, my Uncle Remi, me, my lil’ cousin DJ, and my aunty Yinka and her husband, Uncle Tre. Aunty Yinka, Uncle Tre and DJ were visiting from London.
We were all in my grandmomsi’s bedroom gisting, apart from Uncle Remi, who was downstairs. We were clowning Uncle Tre, because the guy went to chop Isi-ewu the day before and it had upset his stomach. The guy is from the Bahamas, but always wants to be doing like a real naija man. That’s when we heard noise outside o. We ran to the window and saw the gateman being dragged my two armed tout-looking guys.
Omo, na so everybody begin shake. My aunty quickly took off her jewellery and stuffed them down DJ’s pants. The boy sef wan refuse, but obviously couldn’t say no to his momsi. Meanwhile Uncle Tre started rolling up his shirt.
“I’m about to knock somebody the fuck out!”
He went towards the door and my aunty screamed at him, “Come back here jo! You think this is your country? Ode!”
Fine Grandma begin shout. “Ooooooooole! Ooooole! Armed robbers o!”
Men, she was screaming at the top of her voice o! We were scared shitless. I looked up at the ceiling, then at the closet, then under the bed. Chei, nowhere to hide.
“OOOOOOLLLEEEE!! Ooooo…….” Two guys burst into the room.
“Mama you dey shout?”
“Ha! My son no o. I’m not shouting o.” She covered her mouth and sat on the bed.
“Everybody lie down! Lie down!”
Uncle Tre started staring at one of them. The armed robber goes, “My friend lie down!”
“Motherfuck!” Uncle Tre said.
Morrafuck ko, morrafuck ni. The guy was still speaking oyibo. This one na Lagos o.
Then two other guys burst in with guns. They ushered my uncle Remi into the room. Men, he looked pissed! The guy pushed Uncle Remi, and he reluctantly started to lie down.
Meanwhile, me I just peppy on the floor men. No complaints, nothing. I just chill.
Armed Robber 1: Lie down flat! Flat!
Uncle Remi: Who are you talking to? You’re very stupid.
Armed Robber 1: Hehn!! You wan die?
Fine Grandma: Please please my son. Please…
Armed Robber1: No mama! O fe ku ni? (Does he want to die?)
Uncle Remi: Iwo lo ma ku. (Na you go die!)
Armed Robber 1: Me? I must kill somebody today! Get up, oku ni e! (You're a corpse!)
Fine Grandma: My son, please don’t mind him. Ori omo mi o pe! (My son is mentally deranged.)
Uncle Remi: Who is sick in the head?
Fine Grandma: Remi shut up! Idiot.
Armed Robber 2: Shoot him dead jo! Pata pata dem go burn us! Who dey fear die? Kill am!
Fine Grandma: Ehn?? E jo o! Please o my son, they won’t set you on fire in Jesus’ name. God will bless you o, they won’t catch you in the name of God! Please.
Meanwhile they started taking jewellery and all the money they could find. But Uncle Remi no wan gree o.
Armed Robber 1: Make them catch us! We must kill person for here! You go die today, you this man.
Fine Grandma: Heee my son. I’m begging you in the name of God. Please don’t listen to this boy. This my son is a madman. I gave birth to him, I know him very well. Were ni. Since birth, babanla mumu ni. (He’s been daft since birth.)
Uncle Remi: Mummy, who’s mad? Who’s mad?
Fine Grandma: You see? A ni oponu ni! (I’m telling you he’s an imbecile!) Don’t listen to him please, my son. God bless you ehn? You will live long for your mother.
Uncle Tre: Man, this is some bullshit.
Uncle Tre looked across at Uncle Remi, like he thought they could take these guys together. He started to get up.
Armed Robber 3: Americana, you sef wan talk? My friend lie down!
Uncle Tre: Yo, back up off me dude….
WATAI! If you see the hot slap that they gave the guy ehn? The guy just lie down straight.
God knows how long we were there for. The armed robbers took all they could and one of them pointed at my uncle Remi.
“Oya, na now I go open fire.”
Fine Grandma: My son, why would you kill a fool? Please ehn. God will bless you… ati kekere ni, ara e o ya. (He’s been mentally ill since he was a child.)
Armed Robber2: Kill am! Pata pata, they will shoot us or set us on fire.
Fine Grandma: That will not be your portion in Jesus’ name!
Armed robber1: You this man, na mummy save you o. If not, you for die like fowl.
That’s how they locked us inside the room and escaped o. For hours after the ordeal, everybody was still shaking, apart from uncle Remi and Uncle Tre, who were fuming!
Uncle Remi was pissed at my grandmother for calling him a lunatic, and I suppose Uncle Tre was mad because he had chopped a hot Naija slap for the first time in his life.
To this day, Uncle Remi gets pissed when he remembers. He says Nigerians are too timid to stand up against armed robbers, which is why, he believes, we keep getting robbed. He kept accusing us of “cooperating” for ages.
That was a long time ago though... I’m pretty sure that if that happened today, me sef I no go gree. Yeah right! Omo life sweet men, who wan die?
Meanwhile Fine Grandma isn’t usually timid like that o. I remember one time, as a kid, I was relaxing with her at her house, when she got a phone call telling her that my Uncle Remi had been arrested.
She went crazy. We jumped into the car and raced to Sabo police station. We met my other Uncles Damo and Ladi there. Apparently, Uncle Remi had gotten arrested because he didn’t have his license on him or something trivial like that.
Fine Grandma: So why did you arrest him? He’s allowed 24 hours to produce his license!
Policeman: Madam, are you a lawyer? Go and sit down!
Fine Grandma: Are you mad? Do you know who you’re talking to?
Policeman: I don’t care if you’re the Inspector general’s mother. We will arrest all offenders!
My Uncle Ladi went livid when he saw how his mother was being disrespected. I don’t remember how everything jumped off, but all I know is that a major scuffle ensued. Uncle Ladi and Uncle Damo were in the thick of it with three policemen, and my grandma flung one skinny one off Uncle Damo.
The skinny policeman flew across the room and landed in the corner. I couldn’t believe it. What a chump! Long story short, the cops got a good thumping until some more policemen came in and locked Uncle Ladi and Damo up as well. Fine Grandma was not having it.
“Release my sons right now!”
Skinny Policeman: Release wetin? Move back, you this witch mama!
Fine Grandma: Yes, I'm a witch! In fact, it was your mother and I who flew to the meeting together last night. We wanted to use that your big head for money but the oracle said you were too ugly! Idiot.
The guy was silent. In the end, Fine Grandma made some phone calls, and my uncles ended up getting released. The DPO damn near lay flat on the floor for her, and promised to dismiss the policemen. Grandmomsi suggested that they be suspended for a little while instead, and that’s what happened.
Anyways y’all, I’ll update soon I promise. Fine Grandma’s pounded yam and efo beckons!
Hehe….I know what you’re thinking….Fine Grandma is a bad-ass o. She arrived last week, and she has been really cracking me up. I love her ‘cos she’s a real streetwise Lagos madam. She’s actually my great-aunt, my maternal grandmother’s younger sister, but we’ve always called her grandma. I was literally her handbag when I was a kid...the woman is alright with me men.
“Fineboy o o strong o! You only drank three Heinekens and you’re blinking like an idiot. What would you do when you drink two Gulders?”
“I can’t handle Gulder o. I like Star..”
“Star? Stout nko?”
“Can’t drink it. Too bitter.”
“Weak boy! You don’t know it’s good for Finebabe?”
“Huh?”
“If you drink it, you’ll be very solid for Finebabe o. Strong and solid! She will never leave you.”
“Oh!” I got the message and burst out laughing.
Imagine! This seventy-one year old mama. Yesterday, we were reminiscing about Nigeria and I almost died of laughter men, especially when she reminded me about our 'armed robber' ordeal.
Make I yarn una. Ha! See your ears! You like toooory!
Anyhow, like 10 years ago, there was a bunch of us at my grandma’s house in ‘Lere. There was Fine grandma, my Uncle Remi, me, my lil’ cousin DJ, and my aunty Yinka and her husband, Uncle Tre. Aunty Yinka, Uncle Tre and DJ were visiting from London.
We were all in my grandmomsi’s bedroom gisting, apart from Uncle Remi, who was downstairs. We were clowning Uncle Tre, because the guy went to chop Isi-ewu the day before and it had upset his stomach. The guy is from the Bahamas, but always wants to be doing like a real naija man. That’s when we heard noise outside o. We ran to the window and saw the gateman being dragged my two armed tout-looking guys.
Omo, na so everybody begin shake. My aunty quickly took off her jewellery and stuffed them down DJ’s pants. The boy sef wan refuse, but obviously couldn’t say no to his momsi. Meanwhile Uncle Tre started rolling up his shirt.
“I’m about to knock somebody the fuck out!”
He went towards the door and my aunty screamed at him, “Come back here jo! You think this is your country? Ode!”
Fine Grandma begin shout. “Ooooooooole! Ooooole! Armed robbers o!”
Men, she was screaming at the top of her voice o! We were scared shitless. I looked up at the ceiling, then at the closet, then under the bed. Chei, nowhere to hide.
“OOOOOOLLLEEEE!! Ooooo…….” Two guys burst into the room.
“Mama you dey shout?”
“Ha! My son no o. I’m not shouting o.” She covered her mouth and sat on the bed.
“Everybody lie down! Lie down!”
Uncle Tre started staring at one of them. The armed robber goes, “My friend lie down!”
“Motherfuck!” Uncle Tre said.
Morrafuck ko, morrafuck ni. The guy was still speaking oyibo. This one na Lagos o.
Then two other guys burst in with guns. They ushered my uncle Remi into the room. Men, he looked pissed! The guy pushed Uncle Remi, and he reluctantly started to lie down.
Meanwhile, me I just peppy on the floor men. No complaints, nothing. I just chill.
Armed Robber 1: Lie down flat! Flat!
Uncle Remi: Who are you talking to? You’re very stupid.
Armed Robber 1: Hehn!! You wan die?
Fine Grandma: Please please my son. Please…
Armed Robber1: No mama! O fe ku ni? (Does he want to die?)
Uncle Remi: Iwo lo ma ku. (Na you go die!)
Armed Robber 1: Me? I must kill somebody today! Get up, oku ni e! (You're a corpse!)
Fine Grandma: My son, please don’t mind him. Ori omo mi o pe! (My son is mentally deranged.)
Uncle Remi: Who is sick in the head?
Fine Grandma: Remi shut up! Idiot.
Armed Robber 2: Shoot him dead jo! Pata pata dem go burn us! Who dey fear die? Kill am!
Fine Grandma: Ehn?? E jo o! Please o my son, they won’t set you on fire in Jesus’ name. God will bless you o, they won’t catch you in the name of God! Please.
Meanwhile they started taking jewellery and all the money they could find. But Uncle Remi no wan gree o.
Armed Robber 1: Make them catch us! We must kill person for here! You go die today, you this man.
Fine Grandma: Heee my son. I’m begging you in the name of God. Please don’t listen to this boy. This my son is a madman. I gave birth to him, I know him very well. Were ni. Since birth, babanla mumu ni. (He’s been daft since birth.)
Uncle Remi: Mummy, who’s mad? Who’s mad?
Fine Grandma: You see? A ni oponu ni! (I’m telling you he’s an imbecile!) Don’t listen to him please, my son. God bless you ehn? You will live long for your mother.
Uncle Tre: Man, this is some bullshit.
Uncle Tre looked across at Uncle Remi, like he thought they could take these guys together. He started to get up.
Armed Robber 3: Americana, you sef wan talk? My friend lie down!
Uncle Tre: Yo, back up off me dude….
WATAI! If you see the hot slap that they gave the guy ehn? The guy just lie down straight.
God knows how long we were there for. The armed robbers took all they could and one of them pointed at my uncle Remi.
“Oya, na now I go open fire.”
Fine Grandma: My son, why would you kill a fool? Please ehn. God will bless you… ati kekere ni, ara e o ya. (He’s been mentally ill since he was a child.)
Armed Robber2: Kill am! Pata pata, they will shoot us or set us on fire.
Fine Grandma: That will not be your portion in Jesus’ name!
Armed robber1: You this man, na mummy save you o. If not, you for die like fowl.
That’s how they locked us inside the room and escaped o. For hours after the ordeal, everybody was still shaking, apart from uncle Remi and Uncle Tre, who were fuming!
Uncle Remi was pissed at my grandmother for calling him a lunatic, and I suppose Uncle Tre was mad because he had chopped a hot Naija slap for the first time in his life.
To this day, Uncle Remi gets pissed when he remembers. He says Nigerians are too timid to stand up against armed robbers, which is why, he believes, we keep getting robbed. He kept accusing us of “cooperating” for ages.
That was a long time ago though... I’m pretty sure that if that happened today, me sef I no go gree. Yeah right! Omo life sweet men, who wan die?
Meanwhile Fine Grandma isn’t usually timid like that o. I remember one time, as a kid, I was relaxing with her at her house, when she got a phone call telling her that my Uncle Remi had been arrested.
She went crazy. We jumped into the car and raced to Sabo police station. We met my other Uncles Damo and Ladi there. Apparently, Uncle Remi had gotten arrested because he didn’t have his license on him or something trivial like that.
Fine Grandma: So why did you arrest him? He’s allowed 24 hours to produce his license!
Policeman: Madam, are you a lawyer? Go and sit down!
Fine Grandma: Are you mad? Do you know who you’re talking to?
Policeman: I don’t care if you’re the Inspector general’s mother. We will arrest all offenders!
My Uncle Ladi went livid when he saw how his mother was being disrespected. I don’t remember how everything jumped off, but all I know is that a major scuffle ensued. Uncle Ladi and Uncle Damo were in the thick of it with three policemen, and my grandma flung one skinny one off Uncle Damo.
The skinny policeman flew across the room and landed in the corner. I couldn’t believe it. What a chump! Long story short, the cops got a good thumping until some more policemen came in and locked Uncle Ladi and Damo up as well. Fine Grandma was not having it.
“Release my sons right now!”
Skinny Policeman: Release wetin? Move back, you this witch mama!
Fine Grandma: Yes, I'm a witch! In fact, it was your mother and I who flew to the meeting together last night. We wanted to use that your big head for money but the oracle said you were too ugly! Idiot.
The guy was silent. In the end, Fine Grandma made some phone calls, and my uncles ended up getting released. The DPO damn near lay flat on the floor for her, and promised to dismiss the policemen. Grandmomsi suggested that they be suspended for a little while instead, and that’s what happened.
Anyways y’all, I’ll update soon I promise. Fine Grandma’s pounded yam and efo beckons!
Monday, April 02, 2007
April Fool's weekend, Uncle Poppy and other stories......
I had a fantastic weekend guys! I should have put something up for you, but abeg no vex, I was too busy running around. Friday was pretty chill, I hung out with a couple of peeps, just jamming in the house. For the sake of April fool’s I had to play a couple of pranks as well now.
My close friends know me as a serial prank caller. I’ve gotten everybody with my Pakistani voice phone calls, so I’ve started switching it up. My friend Ngo gave me one of her friends’ numbers on Friday night, and everybody gathered around the phone. (I put it on speaker)
Tiwa: Hello
Me(in thick Yoruba accent): Is that my Tiwa Tiwa?
Tiwa: Err…yes…who’s this?
Me: It’s your uncle Pekun! Last time I saw you, you were a little, tiny thing like this. Hehe…your daddy gave me your phone number in Lagos. How are you my dear? Mummy e nko?
Tiwa: She’s fine thank you….
Me: Anyway my dear, I’m in London briefly, and I’ll be leaving tomorrow for New York, but I want to send some very small pocket money to you and your sister. I’ told Lanre(her dad’s name) that I’d get in touch. I hope £500.00 is not too small o, when you people come to Lagos again, I will see you ehn?
Tiwa: No problem sir, thank you very much uncle!
Chei! Uncle??? Now now? Ole.
Me: Ah, don’t mention. Nkan kekere ni. (It’s a little gesture.) Please give me your address.
The babe gave me the complete address o, with post code and everything! I wan die of laughter men.
Me: Okay my dear. Ba mi ki mummy e (Say hey to your mum.)
Tiwa: I will. Thank you so much Uncle. Have a nice day sir.
Uncle ko, uncle ni. People like money o! Men, Ngo hasn’t even told her it was us. The babe go wait tire.
Isn’t it funny how everybody has one of those uncles? One dude that you see like once in five years, and always reminds you of how little you were the last time he saw you, and then squares you some dough?
I have one like that, Uncle Akin. The man is loaded out the ying-yang, and he’s always happy to settle. I check him out whenever he’s in London o. He’s actually quite scary….he talks very fast and sitting with him is like being at a job interview. “Fineboy, how are your studies? What do you plan on doing after that? Why?” blah blah…but the bobo always drops dough, so I don’t mind. I remember one time though when I was a kid, that the guy finished me on the phone.
He called one afternoon to speak to my popsi, who wasn’t home. His wife had just died, and me I didn’t know o. So he tells me to take down a number. Remember when you were a kid, and wouldn’t feel like writing down a number and just kinda pretended that you were? That’s what I did.
“Tell him to call me….you have a pen?”
“Yes uncle.”
“Okay, 4611627…..or my brother-in-law’s house…...631379…”
“Okay.”
“Read out the numbers to me..”
Chineke!
“Er…..”
“You mean you didn’t write down the numbers?????”
“Errr…”
“Are you stupid? You’re very stupid…are you stupid? You’re very very stupid!!! Stupid idiot…are you stupid?? Come on, go and get a pen!!!”
I’ve never run so fast to get a pen in my life. I love Uncle Akin though, the guy is a correct guy, unlike some of my other uncles. I have one other one, Uncle Muyiwa. Men, the guy owns hotels and all sorts, paid up! But this guy no fit square person one naira o.
Those days, we would be hoping that our uncles would give us dough, so we could blow money on ‘trips.’ But that Uncle Muyiwa ehn? As you walked to the car, the guy would put his hand in his pocket, bring it out and wave goodbye! Imagine. The guy never change o. I even jacked him last December, point blank, like “Oya uncle, drop something…”
He just smiled and said “That one na foul!” Fake guy!
My most notorious uncle is Uncle Poppy. Don’t ask. Apparently the guy was ‘the man’ when he was young, so his nickname was “Popular,” hence “Poppy”. The guy like woman eh? Jesus Christ! I remember one time, he was at our house in Lagos, and I heard him saying in a very low voice as I approached the kitchen….
“Darling, don’t worry! I will take care of you! Is it London? Is it Rome??”
Ah ah. Who Uncle Poppy dey follow talk?
When I entered the kitchen, I couldn’t believe it o. Blessing, our housegirl! That one too was smiling and holding his hand. Shuo! They both looked startled when I walked in, and my uncle goes, “Fineboy Fineboy! Blessing, get me get a glass of water..” and walked out. Imagine!
Apparently Uncle Poppy don kpansh all the housegirls that have ever been hired in his house, without fail. Now my aunty hires strictly houseboys, and very young ones sef, because she can’t put anything past the guy. Uncle Poppy doesn’t care o…tall, short, fat, razz, anything goes.
I’ve made up my mind sef that the guy won’t meet Finebabe anytime soon. You don’t know that guy men. One time, he was asking my ex if she’d ever slept in a 6-star hotel, if she’d been to Dubai, if she’d ever heard of Cartier shoes…blah blah… how young boys don’t know anything about enjoyment…blah..blah.
That one sef begin trip because she didn’t know that Cartier made shoes. She too was answering innocently, until I give am serious warning! That uncle poppy na criminal o.
That’s how at my cousin’s wedding last December, my cousin Derin introduced him to her friend, Funke. The guy was just smiling at the babe throughout, going “Funky baby, hehe…omo to da, to fine dada.” (Fine babe.) He must have said it like twenty times. How embarrassing!
It’s a shame that I wasn’t present for the funniest Uncle Poppy moment ever though. But I’ve heard the gist so many times, that I might as well have been there. Apparently, one day, Uncle Poppy pulled into the driveway at his house with my popsi. As he got outta popsi's car, his live-in driver, Godwin, came charging towards him.
“Oga! I should beat you to a pulp!”
Uncle Poppy and Chief Fineboy looked shocked.
Godwin shook a finger right in Uncle Poppy’s face.
“I suppose beat you, shameless man!”
He was livid o. Chief Fineboy asked him,
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Daddy, if not that you’re here sir, I will beat nonsense out of this shameless master! God know!”
Uncle Poppy stood with his mouth wide open.
Chief Fineboy goes, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Sir, master attempted to step on my integrity! He was trying to copulate with my wife sir! Can you believe it? He lured her into that guest room and naked’ed himself sir!”
Chief Fineboy looked at uncle Poppy who said,
“Gerroff my property, madman!”
Everybody was tense, and Chief Fineboy’s driver, Mr. Sunday had to hold Godwin back. Chief Fineboy looked on in shock.
“Useless oga! Trying to make intercourse with my own wife!”
Uncle Poppy was embarrassed. Godwin left that day, and never came back, and it was apparently obvious that he was guilty as charged. Na Mr. Sunday give us the gist o, like 200 times.
“That ya uncle na wa o. The man like woman no be small. If to say Godwin wife gree am, e for climb am! Chineke, Godwin for break that him big head that day! Yeye man wey no fit respect himself…..e don climb all the small small girls wey dey sell bread for that area sef! No tell Oga say na me tell you o.”
As usual, I’ve veered off point…I wanted to tell you about my weekend o. Sorry, next update! I’ll holla soon y'all!
My close friends know me as a serial prank caller. I’ve gotten everybody with my Pakistani voice phone calls, so I’ve started switching it up. My friend Ngo gave me one of her friends’ numbers on Friday night, and everybody gathered around the phone. (I put it on speaker)
Tiwa: Hello
Me(in thick Yoruba accent): Is that my Tiwa Tiwa?
Tiwa: Err…yes…who’s this?
Me: It’s your uncle Pekun! Last time I saw you, you were a little, tiny thing like this. Hehe…your daddy gave me your phone number in Lagos. How are you my dear? Mummy e nko?
Tiwa: She’s fine thank you….
Me: Anyway my dear, I’m in London briefly, and I’ll be leaving tomorrow for New York, but I want to send some very small pocket money to you and your sister. I’ told Lanre(her dad’s name) that I’d get in touch. I hope £500.00 is not too small o, when you people come to Lagos again, I will see you ehn?
Tiwa: No problem sir, thank you very much uncle!
Chei! Uncle??? Now now? Ole.
Me: Ah, don’t mention. Nkan kekere ni. (It’s a little gesture.) Please give me your address.
The babe gave me the complete address o, with post code and everything! I wan die of laughter men.
Me: Okay my dear. Ba mi ki mummy e (Say hey to your mum.)
Tiwa: I will. Thank you so much Uncle. Have a nice day sir.
Uncle ko, uncle ni. People like money o! Men, Ngo hasn’t even told her it was us. The babe go wait tire.
Isn’t it funny how everybody has one of those uncles? One dude that you see like once in five years, and always reminds you of how little you were the last time he saw you, and then squares you some dough?
I have one like that, Uncle Akin. The man is loaded out the ying-yang, and he’s always happy to settle. I check him out whenever he’s in London o. He’s actually quite scary….he talks very fast and sitting with him is like being at a job interview. “Fineboy, how are your studies? What do you plan on doing after that? Why?” blah blah…but the bobo always drops dough, so I don’t mind. I remember one time though when I was a kid, that the guy finished me on the phone.
He called one afternoon to speak to my popsi, who wasn’t home. His wife had just died, and me I didn’t know o. So he tells me to take down a number. Remember when you were a kid, and wouldn’t feel like writing down a number and just kinda pretended that you were? That’s what I did.
“Tell him to call me….you have a pen?”
“Yes uncle.”
“Okay, 4611627…..or my brother-in-law’s house…...631379…”
“Okay.”
“Read out the numbers to me..”
Chineke!
“Er…..”
“You mean you didn’t write down the numbers?????”
“Errr…”
“Are you stupid? You’re very stupid…are you stupid? You’re very very stupid!!! Stupid idiot…are you stupid?? Come on, go and get a pen!!!”
I’ve never run so fast to get a pen in my life. I love Uncle Akin though, the guy is a correct guy, unlike some of my other uncles. I have one other one, Uncle Muyiwa. Men, the guy owns hotels and all sorts, paid up! But this guy no fit square person one naira o.
Those days, we would be hoping that our uncles would give us dough, so we could blow money on ‘trips.’ But that Uncle Muyiwa ehn? As you walked to the car, the guy would put his hand in his pocket, bring it out and wave goodbye! Imagine. The guy never change o. I even jacked him last December, point blank, like “Oya uncle, drop something…”
He just smiled and said “That one na foul!” Fake guy!
My most notorious uncle is Uncle Poppy. Don’t ask. Apparently the guy was ‘the man’ when he was young, so his nickname was “Popular,” hence “Poppy”. The guy like woman eh? Jesus Christ! I remember one time, he was at our house in Lagos, and I heard him saying in a very low voice as I approached the kitchen….
“Darling, don’t worry! I will take care of you! Is it London? Is it Rome??”
Ah ah. Who Uncle Poppy dey follow talk?
When I entered the kitchen, I couldn’t believe it o. Blessing, our housegirl! That one too was smiling and holding his hand. Shuo! They both looked startled when I walked in, and my uncle goes, “Fineboy Fineboy! Blessing, get me get a glass of water..” and walked out. Imagine!
Apparently Uncle Poppy don kpansh all the housegirls that have ever been hired in his house, without fail. Now my aunty hires strictly houseboys, and very young ones sef, because she can’t put anything past the guy. Uncle Poppy doesn’t care o…tall, short, fat, razz, anything goes.
I’ve made up my mind sef that the guy won’t meet Finebabe anytime soon. You don’t know that guy men. One time, he was asking my ex if she’d ever slept in a 6-star hotel, if she’d been to Dubai, if she’d ever heard of Cartier shoes…blah blah… how young boys don’t know anything about enjoyment…blah..blah.
That one sef begin trip because she didn’t know that Cartier made shoes. She too was answering innocently, until I give am serious warning! That uncle poppy na criminal o.
That’s how at my cousin’s wedding last December, my cousin Derin introduced him to her friend, Funke. The guy was just smiling at the babe throughout, going “Funky baby, hehe…omo to da, to fine dada.” (Fine babe.) He must have said it like twenty times. How embarrassing!
It’s a shame that I wasn’t present for the funniest Uncle Poppy moment ever though. But I’ve heard the gist so many times, that I might as well have been there. Apparently, one day, Uncle Poppy pulled into the driveway at his house with my popsi. As he got outta popsi's car, his live-in driver, Godwin, came charging towards him.
“Oga! I should beat you to a pulp!”
Uncle Poppy and Chief Fineboy looked shocked.
Godwin shook a finger right in Uncle Poppy’s face.
“I suppose beat you, shameless man!”
He was livid o. Chief Fineboy asked him,
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Daddy, if not that you’re here sir, I will beat nonsense out of this shameless master! God know!”
Uncle Poppy stood with his mouth wide open.
Chief Fineboy goes, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Sir, master attempted to step on my integrity! He was trying to copulate with my wife sir! Can you believe it? He lured her into that guest room and naked’ed himself sir!”
Chief Fineboy looked at uncle Poppy who said,
“Gerroff my property, madman!”
Everybody was tense, and Chief Fineboy’s driver, Mr. Sunday had to hold Godwin back. Chief Fineboy looked on in shock.
“Useless oga! Trying to make intercourse with my own wife!”
Uncle Poppy was embarrassed. Godwin left that day, and never came back, and it was apparently obvious that he was guilty as charged. Na Mr. Sunday give us the gist o, like 200 times.
“That ya uncle na wa o. The man like woman no be small. If to say Godwin wife gree am, e for climb am! Chineke, Godwin for break that him big head that day! Yeye man wey no fit respect himself…..e don climb all the small small girls wey dey sell bread for that area sef! No tell Oga say na me tell you o.”
As usual, I’ve veered off point…I wanted to tell you about my weekend o. Sorry, next update! I’ll holla soon y'all!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
My man Fridayscoco....
Thank God I got some work done yesterday. I ended up having a couple of drinks with the guys on monday night and left early. To be honest, I think everybody’s a bit stressed out at the moment, so there really wasn’t any madness, ope o! I might be hitting the library this morning, but I need to type up a letter quickly.
It’s a letter of invitation for my guy Fridayscoco to come and visit. You guys might remember me mentioning him in ‘Friends like these…”
I know what you’re thinking. No, Fridayscoco is not a common houseboy o. The guy is my main man! In fact last December, he was known as my Personal assistant. Na the guy even give himself the name.
I met Fridayscoco through my longtime homeboy and former flatmate Akinzo. Akinzo moved back from NY a couple of years ago, and lives down the road from me in Nige as well. Fridayscoco used to be a pump attendant at a petrol station that Akinzo frequented, and Akinzo just liked the dude. When Fridayscoco lost that job, he needed a new one and a place to stay, so Akinzo said he could stay in his BQ. They already had a housegirl, so the dude pretty much just helps in any way he can, mostly by running errands and stuff.
My first day in Lagos, I walked across to Akinzo’s house, and Fridayscoco opened the gate. The guy damned near hugged me o!
“Bros Fineboy! I don dey wait you bros!”
Ah ah. Where do I know this joker from? I realised then he must have been Fridayscoco ‘cos he sometimes picked up the phone when I called Akinzo from London. Apparently he recognized me from some of Akinzo’s pictures.
Later on, Akinzo and I were catching up in the living room, when Fridayscoco walked in.
“Bros, na me go dey drive you for this Lagos o!”
“What makes you think I can’t drive in Lagos?”
“Ha! Nooo bros, this lagos driving na kolo driving o!”
His mind was made up. Me sef I just gbadun the guy so I agreed to let him drive me once. Akinzo said he was a good driver, so I wasn’t too worried. Later that afternoon, he took me to see a couple of people, and he was just cracking me up, asking all kinds of strange questions.
“Bros FB, shey na true say for Yankee, you and bros Akinzo just dey organize all those American girls like water?”
And he always started laughing excitedly when I confirmed Akinzo’s stories.
“HAAAA! Bros mi, u mean am?? Chei!”
I ended up getting attached to Fridayscoco o. The next morning, I came downstairs and Mr. Morris told me that one of my friends was waiting for me. At 10 am? Fridayscoco was just chilling downstairs o. He had told the gateman that he was my PA, and he was reporting for duty. The guy had showered and everything o, ready for the day.
“Ah ah. Fridayscoco. How far?”
“Bros I dey. I don ready o. Anywhere you dey go, na me and you. No shaking. Make I go wash the car?”
This guy was serious o. He ended up driving me that day, and before you knew it, the dude was with me 24/7. The drivers at my house ended up hating the guy, because apparently ‘the bobo too dey demo!’ When he wasn’t driving, he was busy marvelling at my friends. One night, after I had walked a couple of guests to the gate, he goes,
“Bros mi, these your Yankee friends na wa o. I no go lie you, mammy water go dey among them.”
“What? Mammy water ke?”
“No vex bros Fineboy. But that yellow one wey just comot, she fit be mammy water.”
I laughed. “Why?
“You no see as all of them fresh, fine well well, come dey laugh ‘rererere?’ I never see woman like these ones o. They fine no be small.”
“I can hook you up o.”
“Me? God forbid. Me I no fit follow that kin’ woman o.”
“Why not?”
“Bros mi, you be my person, I no fit bobo you. One day like that, I go one hotel for Ikeja, go drink pepper soup. Come see yellow yellow babies! Ha! They boku for there well well. I come begin mark one. The day wey I carry am enter room….hmm bros Fine, the thing wey my eye see ehn?”
“What did you see?”
“Bros, coolele! As I comot all my cloth finish, she off light, come commot her cloth sef….. Na im I look her leg o. Bros Fineboy! Na goat leg dey there o! If you see as I run comot bros, my leg dey knack my head for back!”
“Ha! Fridayscoco! You can lie ehn!!!!”
“Oooooh Bros Fineboy, you no go wan hear my own....."
"You mean she had a goat's hooves for feet?"
"Ese Ogunfe! (Goat's leg!) If you like we fit go the hotel sef, people don know am well well for that area. Na winch now.”
"Hmm....Fridayscoco!"
The guy had mad stories. At first they were hard to believe, but the guy himself seemed to really believe them. And seeing the amount of nonsense I experienced with the guy last December, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were true.
I gave Fridayscoco a bunch of t-shirts and a pair of jeans, and if you see the way the guy used to remix the clothes, you wouldn’t believe it. One morning, I called him to meet me at Cubes ‘cos I knew I was gonna be drunk before the end of the night, and didn’t wanna drive myself home. Omo, when the guy bounced in ehn, my friends were asking me if he lived in America or England. As in the dude was fresh! He even had a chain hanging from his belt loop to his pocket! Awon Usher guys!
One of my boys from the states JJ, came to Lagos to get married in December. He came with his fiancée, Krystal (who’s American) and some members of her family. Fridayscoco went with us every time we took the foreign visitors out, and he was really eyeing the Krystal babe’s cousin, a 22 year old chick called Alisia.
When he first told me, I laughed it off, like, ‘see your mouth like you like am.’ Omo, believe it or not, the babe too was feeling the guy o! She told Krystal, who told Akinzo. When I first heard, I thought I was gonna die of laughter. I really shouldn’t have been surprised, because the guy sef dey denge like Yankee boy. Fridayscoco was positive that this would be his ticket to Yankee. That’s how one day the Krystal babe started bombarding Fridayscoco with her thick Yankee accent.
“So what you do?”
“Paddin?”
“Your jab….what kinda work you do?”
“Oh, I’m a footballer.” He grinned. (This is true. He aspires to play professional football)
“You’re a football player? Really? Like for a team?”
“Yes.” I don’t know why the guy was nodding his head.
Ha! I was getting worried.
“You gotta be a wide receiver or a kicker, ‘cos you don’t look big enough to be no quarterback or lineback or nothing like that. Haha…you gotta be ‘bout a buck sixty maybe!”
The look on Friday’s face read “Yeeeeeeparipa, which one be dis?”
I jumped in quickly. “Nah, he plays soccer.”
“Oh…..so you go to school down here, or did you study in the states like Akinzo and ‘em?”
Omo!
“Yeah, yeah.” He smiled. I could tell he was lost so I jumped in quickly to take the heat off him.
“So Alisia, you like it in Nigeria so far?”
Fridayscoco looked thankful. He used style to excuse himself, and he had many close brushes like that. Funny enough, they actually started to talk on the phone, and they even keep in contact now. Only God knows how they communicate o!
Fridayscoco is just an all-round correct guy men. The only time I ever got pissed off with him was at my homeboy Roroski’s Sallah barbeque party. I allowed the guy free rein most of the time, and since he had no problems blending in, I always just let him do his thing. Roroski had his bbq on a roof terrace at his house, and most people were up there, just chopping and shacking. But you know Naija moves now, there’s always one VIP section. It was downstairs, and a few of us close friends were kicking it there.
At some point, I needed to get a bottle of something and went up to the terrace. Who did I see right in the middle of the floor giving them mad steps??
Ha! Fridayscoco was the center of attraction o, doing ‘yahoo yahoo’ dance and singing “why me o?” Ha! I just got my drink and yelled out to him “Kokomaster! Enjoy, enjoy!”
When it was time to leave, I got somebody to call him for me. We got into the car, and my guy started reversing…….and reversing……and GBOWW!!!
The idiot had slammed into the generator! I came out of the car to look at the damage, and saw that he had chipped the paint pretty badly. But na just paint abi, no problem. Roroski asked me, “Are you sure this guy can drive home?” Why not now? I asked Fridayscoco if he had shacked. He replied no, and he didn’t even look tipsy, so I believed him.
My people, we hadn’t even gotten out of Roroski’s estate, and this morrafucka had dented the whole side panel after brushing up against another car! Heee! I wan die men! If you see the way I screamed at the guy to park ehn!
“Bros mi, no vex.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No o.”
“My friend give me the keys!”
Even I had been drinking, but there was no way I was going to allow this weré to drive home. The next day the joker didn’t even really remember what had happened. I now realised that when the guy was giving them all those yahoo yahoo steps, na vodka dey talk.
That was the only time my main man pissed me off. Oh, and one other time when we were stopped by one policeman at some checkpoint on the mainland.
Officer: Chairman, chairman. I dey hail!
Me: How you dey officer?
He leans against the window, and peers in…
Officer: Na you we dey look now. You know say na Christmas.
Fridayscoco: (Yelling) Why you stop us now? Yeye policeman wey dey wear slippers!
Officer: Na fight? Mr.man, you want wahala today? Park well well, comot for road! I will deal with you maslessly.”
Me: Shut up Friday. Officer no mind am, abeg.
Officer: Park, park, park.
Me: Officer, no need for all that one now. Here.
I put my hand in my pocket.
Fridayscoco: Bros mi, no give am anything! Come search! Na because of am you come back come Lagos?
Officer: My friend, you are provoking my temper! I will deal with you o. Shut up your mouth!
He turned back to me.
“So you be international sef. I don know. Na only foreign currency me I dey collect o. Na Christmas we dey.”
I give him a N5oo note.
“Chairman, ah ah…….from a whole oversea?”
“Don’t worry I’ll see you later…I’m still in the area.”
“Okay o. (He looks at Friday) Na your chairman save you today.”
We drove off, and I warned Friday never to try that nonsense again, before he got us arrested. The stubborn goat wouldn’t budge.
“Bros, na we dey Naija. We sabi holo them. Nothing dey happen!”
I’ll holla soon, y’all!
It’s a letter of invitation for my guy Fridayscoco to come and visit. You guys might remember me mentioning him in ‘Friends like these…”
I know what you’re thinking. No, Fridayscoco is not a common houseboy o. The guy is my main man! In fact last December, he was known as my Personal assistant. Na the guy even give himself the name.
I met Fridayscoco through my longtime homeboy and former flatmate Akinzo. Akinzo moved back from NY a couple of years ago, and lives down the road from me in Nige as well. Fridayscoco used to be a pump attendant at a petrol station that Akinzo frequented, and Akinzo just liked the dude. When Fridayscoco lost that job, he needed a new one and a place to stay, so Akinzo said he could stay in his BQ. They already had a housegirl, so the dude pretty much just helps in any way he can, mostly by running errands and stuff.
My first day in Lagos, I walked across to Akinzo’s house, and Fridayscoco opened the gate. The guy damned near hugged me o!
“Bros Fineboy! I don dey wait you bros!”
Ah ah. Where do I know this joker from? I realised then he must have been Fridayscoco ‘cos he sometimes picked up the phone when I called Akinzo from London. Apparently he recognized me from some of Akinzo’s pictures.
Later on, Akinzo and I were catching up in the living room, when Fridayscoco walked in.
“Bros, na me go dey drive you for this Lagos o!”
“What makes you think I can’t drive in Lagos?”
“Ha! Nooo bros, this lagos driving na kolo driving o!”
His mind was made up. Me sef I just gbadun the guy so I agreed to let him drive me once. Akinzo said he was a good driver, so I wasn’t too worried. Later that afternoon, he took me to see a couple of people, and he was just cracking me up, asking all kinds of strange questions.
“Bros FB, shey na true say for Yankee, you and bros Akinzo just dey organize all those American girls like water?”
And he always started laughing excitedly when I confirmed Akinzo’s stories.
“HAAAA! Bros mi, u mean am?? Chei!”
I ended up getting attached to Fridayscoco o. The next morning, I came downstairs and Mr. Morris told me that one of my friends was waiting for me. At 10 am? Fridayscoco was just chilling downstairs o. He had told the gateman that he was my PA, and he was reporting for duty. The guy had showered and everything o, ready for the day.
“Ah ah. Fridayscoco. How far?”
“Bros I dey. I don ready o. Anywhere you dey go, na me and you. No shaking. Make I go wash the car?”
This guy was serious o. He ended up driving me that day, and before you knew it, the dude was with me 24/7. The drivers at my house ended up hating the guy, because apparently ‘the bobo too dey demo!’ When he wasn’t driving, he was busy marvelling at my friends. One night, after I had walked a couple of guests to the gate, he goes,
“Bros mi, these your Yankee friends na wa o. I no go lie you, mammy water go dey among them.”
“What? Mammy water ke?”
“No vex bros Fineboy. But that yellow one wey just comot, she fit be mammy water.”
I laughed. “Why?
“You no see as all of them fresh, fine well well, come dey laugh ‘rererere?’ I never see woman like these ones o. They fine no be small.”
“I can hook you up o.”
“Me? God forbid. Me I no fit follow that kin’ woman o.”
“Why not?”
“Bros mi, you be my person, I no fit bobo you. One day like that, I go one hotel for Ikeja, go drink pepper soup. Come see yellow yellow babies! Ha! They boku for there well well. I come begin mark one. The day wey I carry am enter room….hmm bros Fine, the thing wey my eye see ehn?”
“What did you see?”
“Bros, coolele! As I comot all my cloth finish, she off light, come commot her cloth sef….. Na im I look her leg o. Bros Fineboy! Na goat leg dey there o! If you see as I run comot bros, my leg dey knack my head for back!”
“Ha! Fridayscoco! You can lie ehn!!!!”
“Oooooh Bros Fineboy, you no go wan hear my own....."
"You mean she had a goat's hooves for feet?"
"Ese Ogunfe! (Goat's leg!) If you like we fit go the hotel sef, people don know am well well for that area. Na winch now.”
"Hmm....Fridayscoco!"
The guy had mad stories. At first they were hard to believe, but the guy himself seemed to really believe them. And seeing the amount of nonsense I experienced with the guy last December, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were true.
I gave Fridayscoco a bunch of t-shirts and a pair of jeans, and if you see the way the guy used to remix the clothes, you wouldn’t believe it. One morning, I called him to meet me at Cubes ‘cos I knew I was gonna be drunk before the end of the night, and didn’t wanna drive myself home. Omo, when the guy bounced in ehn, my friends were asking me if he lived in America or England. As in the dude was fresh! He even had a chain hanging from his belt loop to his pocket! Awon Usher guys!
One of my boys from the states JJ, came to Lagos to get married in December. He came with his fiancée, Krystal (who’s American) and some members of her family. Fridayscoco went with us every time we took the foreign visitors out, and he was really eyeing the Krystal babe’s cousin, a 22 year old chick called Alisia.
When he first told me, I laughed it off, like, ‘see your mouth like you like am.’ Omo, believe it or not, the babe too was feeling the guy o! She told Krystal, who told Akinzo. When I first heard, I thought I was gonna die of laughter. I really shouldn’t have been surprised, because the guy sef dey denge like Yankee boy. Fridayscoco was positive that this would be his ticket to Yankee. That’s how one day the Krystal babe started bombarding Fridayscoco with her thick Yankee accent.
“So what you do?”
“Paddin?”
“Your jab….what kinda work you do?”
“Oh, I’m a footballer.” He grinned. (This is true. He aspires to play professional football)
“You’re a football player? Really? Like for a team?”
“Yes.” I don’t know why the guy was nodding his head.
Ha! I was getting worried.
“You gotta be a wide receiver or a kicker, ‘cos you don’t look big enough to be no quarterback or lineback or nothing like that. Haha…you gotta be ‘bout a buck sixty maybe!”
The look on Friday’s face read “Yeeeeeeparipa, which one be dis?”
I jumped in quickly. “Nah, he plays soccer.”
“Oh…..so you go to school down here, or did you study in the states like Akinzo and ‘em?”
Omo!
“Yeah, yeah.” He smiled. I could tell he was lost so I jumped in quickly to take the heat off him.
“So Alisia, you like it in Nigeria so far?”
Fridayscoco looked thankful. He used style to excuse himself, and he had many close brushes like that. Funny enough, they actually started to talk on the phone, and they even keep in contact now. Only God knows how they communicate o!
Fridayscoco is just an all-round correct guy men. The only time I ever got pissed off with him was at my homeboy Roroski’s Sallah barbeque party. I allowed the guy free rein most of the time, and since he had no problems blending in, I always just let him do his thing. Roroski had his bbq on a roof terrace at his house, and most people were up there, just chopping and shacking. But you know Naija moves now, there’s always one VIP section. It was downstairs, and a few of us close friends were kicking it there.
At some point, I needed to get a bottle of something and went up to the terrace. Who did I see right in the middle of the floor giving them mad steps??
Ha! Fridayscoco was the center of attraction o, doing ‘yahoo yahoo’ dance and singing “why me o?” Ha! I just got my drink and yelled out to him “Kokomaster! Enjoy, enjoy!”
When it was time to leave, I got somebody to call him for me. We got into the car, and my guy started reversing…….and reversing……and GBOWW!!!
The idiot had slammed into the generator! I came out of the car to look at the damage, and saw that he had chipped the paint pretty badly. But na just paint abi, no problem. Roroski asked me, “Are you sure this guy can drive home?” Why not now? I asked Fridayscoco if he had shacked. He replied no, and he didn’t even look tipsy, so I believed him.
My people, we hadn’t even gotten out of Roroski’s estate, and this morrafucka had dented the whole side panel after brushing up against another car! Heee! I wan die men! If you see the way I screamed at the guy to park ehn!
“Bros mi, no vex.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No o.”
“My friend give me the keys!”
Even I had been drinking, but there was no way I was going to allow this weré to drive home. The next day the joker didn’t even really remember what had happened. I now realised that when the guy was giving them all those yahoo yahoo steps, na vodka dey talk.
That was the only time my main man pissed me off. Oh, and one other time when we were stopped by one policeman at some checkpoint on the mainland.
Officer: Chairman, chairman. I dey hail!
Me: How you dey officer?
He leans against the window, and peers in…
Officer: Na you we dey look now. You know say na Christmas.
Fridayscoco: (Yelling) Why you stop us now? Yeye policeman wey dey wear slippers!
Officer: Na fight? Mr.man, you want wahala today? Park well well, comot for road! I will deal with you maslessly.”
Me: Shut up Friday. Officer no mind am, abeg.
Officer: Park, park, park.
Me: Officer, no need for all that one now. Here.
I put my hand in my pocket.
Fridayscoco: Bros mi, no give am anything! Come search! Na because of am you come back come Lagos?
Officer: My friend, you are provoking my temper! I will deal with you o. Shut up your mouth!
He turned back to me.
“So you be international sef. I don know. Na only foreign currency me I dey collect o. Na Christmas we dey.”
I give him a N5oo note.
“Chairman, ah ah…….from a whole oversea?”
“Don’t worry I’ll see you later…I’m still in the area.”
“Okay o. (He looks at Friday) Na your chairman save you today.”
We drove off, and I warned Friday never to try that nonsense again, before he got us arrested. The stubborn goat wouldn’t budge.
“Bros, na we dey Naija. We sabi holo them. Nothing dey happen!”
I’ll holla soon, y’all!
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