who am i?

"I write for the unlearned about things in which I am unlearned myself." - CS Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms

Friday, April 23, 2010

shit business.

If ever there was a humbling experience, or do I say an experience that makes us all the more equal while we're alive(cos at death we all become dirt)
Its the act of dodoing, poopooing, call it whatever... defecating, shiting, downloading,expressing yourself, Whatever....
After all, some portable toilet coy in lagos slogan is "shit business is serious business"
Now that's a humoring leveler of all persons, great or small, tush or untush, jebby or kpako, beautiful or ugly. We all shit.
I'm sure if there was a surgery to stop the act, we'd have very rich doctors and those 'nose in the air' peeps would have their nose sailing away in the skies way above the moon after they get their arseholes stitched up.

It don't matter that its done in different styles... In a golden bowl, in a pit, in the bush, in a bucket, in diapers, in a mansion, in a hut, sweating or in an air conditioned room. Once your pants come down baby, you're equal with your aboki security man.
The fact that you have a closet full of Chanel's and a Bentley, a butler and a stylist and paid for triple Ds and I don't, doesn't make your shit prettier or guarantee it'll be smelling like Chanel no 5.

It don't matter if you had breakfast in Paris, lunch in the best restaurant in Italy and dinner with the Pope... It ain't going to make your shit more refined than the prisoner in Kirikiri or sing sing. So it doesn't matter if i hate sushi, don't force me to eat stuff I hate to give me credibility:)

How do I get over the very cute boy next door type of crush? I'm not talking about the golddigging type of crush(now the gold digging type is when you crush over dudes who just happen to be successful like jayz, lil wayne....bart/homa Simpson) I just imagine him having a good ol nice little dump, and he's not so tush and mystical anymore, he's just human. Now I know people might have that kind of imagination about me, but I need to make a clear point here. I was exempted from that fun, disgusting act, ohh yes I was, I just sweat it all out. Poor you, now you know you're not so tush after all:) and some humans are more equal that the others:)

I can't believe I just sat down and wrote about shit, and literally too. Gosh, things we say when we're hidden behind a computer screen and your key board speaks for you.

So i wrote this shit business deal some days ago, i wasn't going to post it, then coincidentally a friend shared this with me on facebook, and i went hell with it.

GHOST SHIT. You know you've shitted. There's shit on the toilet paper, but none in the toilet.
TEFLON-COATED SHIT. Comes out so slick, clean and easy that you don't even feel it. No trace of shit on the paper. You have to look in the toilet to make sure you did something.
GOOEY-SHIT. This has the consistency of hot tar. You wipe your arse 12 times and it's still not clean. You end up putting toilet paper in your jocks so that you don't stain them. This kind of shit leaves permanent skid marks in the toilet.
SECOND THOUGHT SHIT. You're all done wiping, and you're about to stand up when you realise....you've got more.
POP A VEIN IN YOUR FOREHEAD SHIT The kind of shit that killed Elvis. It doesn't come out till you're all sweaty, trembling and purple from straining so hard.
WEIGHT WATCHERS SHIT. You shit so much, you lose several kilos.
RIGHT NOW SHIT. You had better be within 30 seconds of a toilet. You burn rubber getting to the toilet. Usually it has its head out before you can get your pants down.
KING KONG or CHOKER SHIT. This one is so big that you know it won't go down the toilet unless you break it into smaller chunks. A wire coat hanger works well. This kind of shit usually occurs at someone else's house.
CORK SHIT (also Floater) Even after the third flush it's still floating in the bowl. You think "SHIT" how do I get rid of it.
WET CHEEKS SHIT. This shit hits the water sideways and makes a big splash that gets you all wet.
WISH SHIT. You sit there all cramped up in the foetal position and fart a few times, but no shit in sight.
CEMENT BLOCK SHIT. You wish you had a spinal anaesthetic before you attempted this one.
SNAKE SHIT. This shit is fairly soft, about as thick as your thumb and at least a metre long.
BEER AND PIZZA SHIT. This happens the day after the night before. Most of the time your shit doesn't smell so bad but this one is BAD.... usually this one happens at someone else's house, and someone is always waiting outside the toilet door.
MEXICAN FOOD SHIT (or Screamer). You will know it's safe to eat again when your arse stops burning.

Isn't it funny that this is a common trait all humans and animals share, and yet its so embarrassing to talk about?
happy shitting.

Monday, April 19, 2010


I learned that Self-doubt comes dancing into the room of a pretty woman long after the music stops and she’s all alone in bed. These are moments when the questions arise “Am I really more than what my looks define me to be? Has life been fair to me because of my looks? am I worth it all? if it’s taken away would I get the audience who I easily access to pitch my ideas to? Would I be less loved by my bosses? will I still be wanted at those gatherings, invited to every event and would all the fellas who fly around still declare their undying loyalty?” Bla bla bla I have come to accept that beauty comes before brains sometimes. Beauty definitely opens doors.
It really doesn’t help matters when you read quotes like this by John Ruskin “remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance.” That shatters your confidence for a bit. Does he imply nothing worthy comes out of beauty than being just a soothing balm to the admiring eyes? Does it mean, its not my brain that’s been speaking all this while but my face and the way I dress… or in Maya Angelo words is it “the arch of my back, the sun of my smile, the ride of my breasts, the grace of my style” That’s been speaking for me?
Thus this was the topic of discussion when three beautiful or should I say fine looking or more like pretty peacocks /ducks emmm girls and one duckling … me, met for lunch at bungalow some weeks ago
 “I want to be more than just another beautiful girl” the one in braids crones “I want my brains and ideas to come first before my looks, I want to walk into a room and all they see is an intelligent human being, not a peacock who’s coming to beautify the room” .
“Its bad enough that some women want us to apologize for who we are” the one with the Brazilian weave and hot red lipstick (which has kind of rubbed off on her teeth) chips in. “I didn’t choose to be stunning, I didn’t choose to have this legs ,why pick on me for it?”
That last statement got a raised eyebrow from me as I looked round wondering what one had to do to get served? Where is my Caesar salad? Why wouldn’t these ladies just talk about world economy like shopping, I wondered to myself as I tried to stop my body from shaking from hunger.
I was jolted out of my thoughts by the silence on the table. The beautiful ones were waiting for me to chip in, say something nasty about the world that has discriminated against/judged the beautiful, or simply curse the gift of beauty. I’m the one with the natural hair packed back. In fact, I had a lot of oils and john Freda serum buried in it to get it to look sleek enough to pack. I’m not feeling so beautiful, I would have wanted my smile to be as delectable and sparkly as yours Miss braids, and my legs to be as long as yours Miss lipstick stained teeth, and my hair to be naturally long, shiny and bouncy like yours Miss great skin.
I mean look at you girls, your dresses hug you so well, look at your shapes. If I get in that dress, I’ll probably be asked when the baby’s due. With your perfectly applied makeup, and my lone black liner and clear gloss, I couldn’t have looked uglier seating here with you in my favorite outfit, my black jalabia and my favorite leather slipper that’s got white beads glued on it.
Why are you complaining? You’ve got it good, look at me, I’m going to be the nameless girl when we leave this place. I can bet the three of you will get/exchange business cards with these fellas who’ve been staring our way, and while your exchanging numbers I’ll dejectedly walk ahead to the car. I will be discriminated against in your faces. That’s enough Prove that the beautiful ones got it good. Don’t shock me with your insecurity.
You see I’m not in this surreal situation to play the complain game; I’m here to kill boredom, avoid the afternoon heat, catch up with friends and have a free meal. Maybe the free meal should have come in first. I didn’t sign up to listen to girls who represent millions around the world who feel they aren’t taken seriously because of their looks. Maybe soon there’ll be the beautiful rights movement… Who knows, the gay rights movement might have started with lunch dates between some gay guys.
I’d say enjoy the attention. You might have brains but your beauty is a door opener. Walk through the door your smile has opened and ignore the whispers that try to distract you. With closed doors your ideas remain in your handbags for a very very long time, if at all it gets to see the light. Even if the idea sucks, you’re given a chance to know that it sucks. When you’re pretty, people give you a chance to be heard and its up to you to prove you’re a confident, intelligent assertive person who happens to be a beautiful woman. Wow them, shut them up. Stun them.
So grab your beauty and run. Use it, suck the juice out of it and progress… Legitimately that is. Stop complaining and accept the fact that some things that get to you are aided by your looks. Its your looks that’ll stop that MD on his tracks and get you that long chased after appointment when you meet him in a restaurant. Its your looks that’ll get the doctor to give you extra care :) Its your looks that’ll create the opportunities, and its up to your brain to nail the great idea. beauty is a great facilitator.
This is a because I’m fabulous and I know it, stop hating sort of conversation. I’m only too glad to sit back and listen. Ordering another cocktail while I’m at it. At some point, I have to chip in, earn my free meal. Can’t remember what exactly I said, but I know it was quite sarcastic. What was I supposed to complain about? It’s survival of the fittest, and I’m wise enough to know that. You better start fighting for your survival with all you got. (we’re not talking prostitution here, we’re talking intellects)
So here’s what I’m made to understand from the 3 whining peacocks.
The world around them has refused to see that they’ve (beautiful ones) got it bad and its not as easy for them as people think (duhhhh), its difficult proving yourself when your skin is perfect and your legs are longer, your waist almost doesn’t exist and you’ve been called ‘Manchester’ at different points in your life…..and Beyonce is just a few points off from being as beautiful as you are. You have to work twice as hard to be accepted in the work place (by the ladies that is), you always have to be twice as spectacular on the job, nothing less than ordinary, and when the promotions and recommendations come, everyone who’s been passed over looks at your long legs, double D boobs, smokey eyes and thick lips, and your inverted waist and whisper ‘its her looks and her flirting that brought about her elevation.”
And even in church, you have to work hard to show you’re really saved, you have to prove twice as hard how spiritual you are because somehow your beauty makes you a more likely sinner……yeah, because you’re fine, you’ve just got to be one of those worldly girls, and the ladies in church start to judge. You’re not even permitted to smile at the ‘brothers’…especially the married ones. Certainly not expected to wear makeup either, that’s proving them right, you’re out to seduce.
“Oh that’s not all”. The one with the perfect skin chips in “there’s the issue of men….. they’re everywhere, you’re spoilt for choice, thus the fellows begin to loose their essence” (I can relate to this even as a duckling, so I guess its a universal problem)
Because of the excess in supply they end up being just another man and even if he’s special, you miss it, cos you’re tired of it all, they loose their individuality and cloud up in your brain and end up being just another compliment, another over zealous date and desperate to please you. Thus even in the midst of all the attention from the males, she ends up craving attention, wanting a man.
You know, like men say women wouldn’t give them any mind if they didn’t have money, she begins to wonder if this fella who’s been crying on the phone for the past five minutes cos she’s told him she cant date him for the 19th time would give her any mind if she wasn’t beautiful. If It’s all gone today, would men give her any mind? She doesn’t want you to like her because she’s some PYT, she wants you to chase her because she’s smart, funny, loyal, God fearing, loving and kind.
 How would you get to know all that about her if you’re blinded by the length of her legs and the color of her eyes? What happens if she loses a leg the next minute, would you still hang around to hear what’s buried in her? Like RevRun put it “many women don’t want to be loved because they’re pretty, good or smart, but because they’re themselves”
“I got it good though, its not all bad, its fun most times when you're not trying to prove yourself,” Miss Brazilian weave says dreamily. I’m forced to believe she’s thinking about all the gifts she receives like this new watch she showed me earlier “a have a nice day present from an admirer” she declared as I admired it.
The beautiful ones are known to make fools out of people. Like John Paul Richter said “ whenever at a party, I have been in the mood to study fools, I have always looked for a great beauty: and they always gather round her like flies around a fruit stall’ I agree with him. As the duckling I always tend to spot fools too.
They are sort after, paid for (everyone wants to be the one to make the pretty girl smile), bothered and envied, they’ve been cried for, giants have stooped just by seeing a pretty smile, they are misunderstood and gorgeous And most of all they are wrongly judged; maybe the most misunderstood set of people. A friendly pretty/beautiful girl is labeled a flirt, a shy pretty girl is labeled a snob.
We don’t have to seat envying the beautiful ones, just go and get a makeover. I mean, If i feel ugly I buy myself a new shade of lip gloss and get a new hair do. After all beauty is a social necessity, it is every woman’s duty to make herself look beautiful and everyone has their own opinion of what beauty should look like (plus this beautiful girls I’m listening to have one sort of artificial thing or the other going on for them, hair, nails, lashes,…..makeup) It means that as much as they are beautiful, they try to enhance their beauty. Thus I want long legs like the braided one, I buy higher heels, I want to be called Manchester at one point in my life I run to Dr 90210…okay I kid, Victoria’s secrets can do wonders for me. We are what we make ourselves to be, every woman is beautiful, only some seem more beautiful than the others as theirs shine through, or they learn early enough that they’ve got to dig to discover their buried treasures and polish it real good while others are ignorant of that fact and leave theirs buried.
As much as I was more interested in my salad and cocktails than the lamentations of my friends, I think they had a point. We judge loads of people by their looks. But I will not be made to take the paint of my feathers that make me look like a bonafide peacock because I do not want to offend anybody and I want to prove myself truly intelligent. NO!!!! If I have to wear the color that brings out the beauty in me for a meeting, or a form fitting suite that makes my waist look like I had ribs removed, I would take the duckling out of me and turn myself into a swan for that meeting, if that’s what it’ll take to get me a chance. I will not miss out on opportunities because I hate to be judged by the way I look.
All I could tell the girls as they paid the bill… If they (women) give you the eye for your promotion or make snide remarks at you, tell them to go dye their feathers to look like peacocks,and get a life.
And what do you know….. I was the one who got a card from one of the fellas at the other table. I guess some just love to pick ducklings out of the peacocks. Maybe, wondering what they’ll look like as swans. Unfortunately they’ll never get to know, cos I’m not calling, or maybe i would call if only i can find the damn card.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

OMG *gasp* can't believe Linda Ikeji is an author...:)

Linda Ikeji's inspirational book "It Takes You" is out. Press release

"All the articles in the book are inspirational but I also share my life experiences with readers. I hope more than anything else that everyone who reads this book learns something from it. I hope it changes their perception of some things and more than anything else I hope it inspires them to go out there and make something of themselves. " Linda said.

An official book launch/presentation has been scheduled for -

Date: Wednesday May 5th 2010

Venue: Theatre 5, Genesis Deluxe Cinema, The Palms, Lekki.

Time: 5pm

Book signing session – Saturday May 8th, 2010

Venue: The Hub Media Store, The Palms, Lekki

Time: 2pm

Book signing is 8th May at the Hub Media Store, The Palms, Lekki.

Time is 2pm.

Home/Office delivery.

The book is N600, but if you want it delivered to your home or office anywhere in Lagos, it will cost you an extra N1000. Anywhere at all in Lagos. If you want a copy, please call Uche on 08030529633. Just text her your address and how many copies you want and it will be deivered to you...then you pay when you get your delivery.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

I believe I can fly...seriously, I really do.

"I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky"
Whenever I sing that song, I really believe that I can fly. I really do, and I mean this literally(abeg no be like say I be winsh o)
And then I'm tempted to try flaping my wings, I mean arms and soaring.
You see I've got what they call the "christian mother" arms. Makes me so insecure sometimes.
Don't get me wrong, I love my body,...a lot, but maybe if I'm given the chance to change something, I will...I'd have the extra fleshy flab cut off so I'll be the girl with the beautifully toned arms. I'm sure the flesh gotten from the flap would make a good double D boobs for someone In need.
So I see no reason why I shouldn't believe I can really fly:) all I've got to do is flip my arms fast enough and there I go flying past your bedroom window, the modern day peter pan:)
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Opportunities in the oil & gas industry

My church's got a business network which I belong too...well sort of, I'm in their mailing list so that's got to count:) do you know the number of people who haven't gotten a mail from them?
The network is headed by Pastor Tonye Cole, CEO of Sahara energy resources.
They've got a lot of good things going.
Two months ago we had a business network dinner thingy titled 'tgif'
It was fun, well except the part where I was made to introduce myself, but the food made up for it.
We had mds of oil companies and some other major companys there, the big dogs in stockbroking/financial firms and bankers, and of course my sweet then minister of petroleum Mr. Henry Odein Ajumogobia, I think he's just the sweetest man ever. I have a major crush on him, as major as my crush on clinton was.
And now, the business network's having a workshop, it'll definitely be worth attending. Here's the invite;
Try and be there if you can.City of David's(COD) addy is dideolu estate off ligali ayorinde, victoria island lagos.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Monday, April 12, 2010

The girl who laughed….

When i was in primary school, one of my favorite books was ‘the girl who laughed’ I loved that book so much I’d read it over and over again till i could tell the story word for word without actually reading it…'there was a girl whose name was Alice, she had a red flower in her hair…' bla bla bla, ok, I admit I’ve forgotten the whole word for word bit but it pretty much started out that way. the cover of the book had a smiling girl with perfect white teeth wearing a yellow polka dot outfit with a red rose stuck in her hair.

Basically, Alice was this beautiful girl, so beautiful that men from far and near came to ask her hand in marriage, Alice would have none of them, she'd laugh in their face as she rejected them, there was always an excuse, he's too tall, too short, too thin, too fat, too poor, too ugly, and in our day it'd have been, he’s not posh, he didn’t graduate from an ivy league school, he doesn’t own a Mercedes, seriously? he doesn’t know who Donatella Versace is, i hate the way he smells...you get the gist?. Alice picky nature got tongues wagging and made her parents worry with thoughts that their precious beautiful daughter would never find a husband…

And just as all hope was getting lost, the perfect man came along…omg, he was all that and more, you know, lovely eyes, perfect height, baritone Barry white kind of voice, rich, well dressed, basically the whole tall, dark, and handsome bit, and he drove a Porsche, added to that he had front roll access to all the fashion shows from new York to Paris to Milan, he even dined with Donatella, and maybe he was even head of the most popular sorority in Yale, and oh did i mention the private jet:) (well he would have been all that if it was in today’s settings and not some village)

Well, he had all that and even more. Alice tripped bad, she tripped, she fell, no one could get her up, and so the beautiful stranger, the man of her dreams whisked her away to la la land. But first, before getting there, he had to make a few stops with his new beautiful and blushing bride, from house to house in different villages he returned borrowed items, she was freaked out as he returned items from shoes, to eye balls to hands and nails and legs and feet and even the vocal cord….everything, till it was just his skull left ,and then he rolled with a frightened bride into the forest where he lived….(think banks repossessing the jets, the cars, the villas in rio,paris and italy, freezing the swiss accounts, thus no money for the professional hair dyeing thus all the grey hair come to play, without the custom made perfumes, he stinks like shit, the smiles turn to scowls and with no money for the gym , you become the boxing bag for his muscles:) and moving into a trailer park). she got what she wanted, a perfect man, except he wasn’t perfect, just a wise man, he borrowed from different people to get the perfect picture of what she wanted. and poor dear beautiful Alice ended up with nothing, nothing but an empty skull….

its amazing how that story written so many years ago for primary school kids holds so much lessons in real life.

Dunno why I was drawn to the story, but what I know is some days I feel like poor Alice, and there are loads of ladies out there who have laughed for so long and ended up with skulls. A friend of a friend in Abuja left her husband 2 months after the wedding, he wasn’t what he seemed to be, dude was a fraudster, a friends sister after such a showy wedding found out hubby was in the occult, as in the whole blood money deal….and there’s more of these stories around me,

I don’t want to end up with a skull like Alice, but I’m still the girl who laughs,

i read this book "the mrs club" by Ekene Onu, its got this slogan which says 'at early 20's you are put in the front window and marked for sale, then when you're about 26, the mark you 50% off, 75% off when you're 28 and then when you're 30, the sign is changed to 'all goods must go'.  I don't agree with her although its a catchy line.

I still gats to laugh sha, I will not hold back my laughter out of desperation. I refuse to compromise out of fear. Perfection might only exist in my dreams, but there's someone out there who's tailor made for me. I'm not perfect thus he's been made to suite my imperfections. he'll be my imperfectly perfect man.

Friday, April 2, 2010

My victory in His death.

i love C.S Lewis, i'm studying a couple of his work. he was so insightful especially when it came to the christian faith and weaving stories that would grab your attention and leave you thinking. this quote from the chronicles of narnia series says it all about the death of Jesus.
"that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards."....
Aslan Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time
as much as i wonder why he took it all for me, and why the devil seemed to have such an upper hand, it makes sense to know that well...Satan isnt as wise and all knowing like we give him credit for. hes just who he is, but no bigger than who i am and certainly not a fracture to who God is. he might be wise, but he can only be as wise as he is allowed to. Theres one whos wiser than the wisest.
His perceived victory at Christ death was really a loss to him, through the cross, we've been made new and his hold over us has been nullified, we've been redeemed and we've been saved from his kingdom of darkness and doom.
ThankGod for the cross, thankGod for Jesus, thankGod for the passion of christ.
have a wonderful easter break, and lets try to reflect on the meaning of easter....i know many of us are only dwelling on the fact that theres going to be a lonnnng weekend.
God bless.
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