be prepared.

Its that time of the month again. I’m not meticulous like most ladies, I don’t mark calendars. I just know when the day comes and I’m ready. It starts with the usual, abdominal cramping, bloating, weird food cravings, headaches, muscle aches, moodiness, then breakouts, then I wear a tank top and I feel like somehow my body has been taken over my Pamela anderson.

So imagine you’re a lady, you’ve got all pms signs,but on the day you’re so sure Mary would appear she doesn’t. You keep expecting her everyday, looking out for her. You take time out to calculate and you discover Mary’s about 3 weeks late. In didos words ‘Mary’s in India’ Why? No, you’re not pregnant…you’re sick of expecting her each day, thinking, yes she’s here, and going oohhh, she isn’t, sick of having to stuff your purse with security just incase Mary decides to show. So you forget about her,and go on with life as usual. And then you go for that talked about party in those really smoking hot white pants, feeling all fly in it and putting an extra bounce to your sashay when you notice all eyes on you…till you realize the only reason they’re staring is cos you’ve got company. Mary came back after all, Just as you let your guard down, thus your cute behind's got the map of india splashed on it, a souvenir from Mary. How embarrassing.

So weird but this is what i relate it to, the second coming of Jesus, the expected unexpected. These are the times, the end times, you’re so certain you’ve come to the end, even without the preachers screaming it in your ears. Signs he said will be seen before he comes, famines, earthquakes and other natural disasters, wars and rumors of war, plane crashes are more rampant than ever, everything just keeps happening.(mark 13:8)

Thus you have your guards up, expecting him at every and any moment.

You’re spirit filled, going to church, praying without ceasing, being right with him, giving up smoking and drinking, and all the sexing about. You’re waiting for the moment, it wouldn’t be long till you see him riding on the clouds. Any moment now they’ve been saying. But then its been 5years since your spiritual eyes were open, you’re getting tired of being on guard. You didn’t imagine you’d have to wait this long, are they really sure these are the signs,you start to doubt, to question what its all about. Something tells you they saw they same signs a hundred years ago, the great depression, black Monday, world war 2……. But hey the worlds still standing, it hasnt ended.
 

The doubts start to grow. and as it grows, You start to miss having a smoke,you miss the clubs, you miss mtv and lilwayne and all the hot banging beats. You’re tired of praying into the night, you’re tired of it all, seating bored at home on a Saturday night when your friends go dancing or go out for drinks.Its not fair, you should be having fun too.

So you drop your guard bit by bit. You don’t pray as much, you club just a little, you have a few sticks of cigarettes a day. Who says you always have to attend Tuesday fellowship? You slowly slide back to life as you knew it, the easy way. oh how easy it was to live life without the rules of religion. And then you’re completely drenched in it. You completely forget about church, you’ll find your way back when you’re older, cos really all the pastors and holy of holies in church are all oldies, they’ve enjoyed their lives as its meant to be. Right now you just have to enjoy life as it is.

You forget about the second coming, you forget about the signs, maybe it’s a myth, a fable some disillusioned souls are fretting about. Your unborn children’s children might go through the same things and maybe live through that illusion that the end is near.You forget how wonderful it felt fellowshipping and being drunk in the holy ghost, cos you’re high on some 24 hour champagne diet and everyone in the club seems to know your name. You’re popular again, its v.v.i.p baby.

Then it happens, while you’re doing a strip tease on some table in rehab or say you’re chatting up some girl to take home for the night at insomnia……the trumpet sounds, but its drowned out by the noise of some heavy music blasting at tribeca, only the faithful hear it.

When you realize he’s really come just like you were warned he would, its already too late, CNN and all the news stations, facebook and twitter, bbm and skype will have news of strange disappearance, the clueless with their own idea, but you and many more know what’s really happened. You're stunned. You’ve been left behind…… how could you have been so stupid as to miss it?

"then everyone will see the son of man coming on the clouds with great power and glory. and he will send out his angels to gather his chosen ones from all over the world- from the farthest ends of the earth and heaven" mark 13:26-27

it pays to pay attention to the signs,no matter how long the delay is. be it pms, or the end times. you wouldnt want to be caught unawares.The end may be at the sound of the trumphet or it may be death from a headache.

May we not be left behind in Jesus name.

Reading the tim lahaye and Jerry B. Jenkins left behind series has been such an eye opener, you should get it if you can, it sheds light on a lot of things. very insightful.

local girl....

Underneath it all, I’m just a little local girl.

Underneath the labeled clothes is a body screaming to be striped and let to wander around with a boubou with no bra:) and a scarf tied carelessly on my head, underneath the nightwear and dressing gowns that make me feel like a movie star is my body wanting a simple night shirt and a wrapper to tie across my chest like its meant to be done, the African way.Underneath the hard to pronounce designer shoes is a foot screaming for some crocs to embrace it. (yeah, my feet obviously prefers crocs to the regular bathroom slippers)

I’m just a local girl, you see I don’t care for the pronunciations of designer brands anymore...ah ahan, haba. the say its one way then they say its the other....bvgalri, lobotouns, geurlain, Givenchy,dolce,Proenza-Schouler or ……..what in the world, let me be. I don’t have to know how to pronounce it,bolgarri:), I see it written as Givenchy, I call it givency, if it isn’t Givenchy then don’t write it that way….jiv-on-shee, hermes- ehr-mez. no amount of french and Italian lessons downloaded on my ipod can help. i give up, but i cant really give up can i?

I sip on champagne and try to act like it’s all delicious, when I’d rather have a bottle of coke in my hand. Champagne is hideous, I hate it, but you don’t say you hate it in public, you smile, chin up, hold the flute by its stem when you're at those private parties…. And even(depending on the poshness of the gathering) tsk your tongue when they say they’ve out of caviar…. hellooooo, blindfold me and feed me with caviar and i'd have no idea whatsoever..gosh, give me coke and puff puff please, afterall i’m just a local girl.

I’m just a bush girl, while I dine with 'posh' people, I pretend to love the Mushroom Pesto Lasagna, pick on spaghetti and meatballs,chicken vol au vont, or whatever Chinese meals, play with the mashed potato and lamb my sis makes for dinner when all I want is fried yam, fried a little dry so it’d be crunchy with the spicy sauce Grandma makes, or boli, you should see me looking longingly at the boli sellers when i drive past, heading to some restaurant for lunch. i want to eat sans the cutlery, with my hands, pounded yam….That’s what I am, beneath the wannabe posh girl of the world, I’m just a local girl.

I pretend to love going for dinner parties and events, when all I’d rather do is crawl somewhere, probably hiding behind a couch or in the bathroom reading a book. Or playing snakes and ladders,monopoly and ludos and I pretend to hate the cameras at those red carpet events, walking fast to avoid them, when in truth I’m a photo junkie…..the locs in me wants to poseeeeeee,give the peace sign and squat a little to the left:) i just love to be photographed.

I grab my macbook, pretending to just love it and all it does for me. Smoothly operating my iphone, having a love affair with the blackberry, When in truth I don’t care, I’m just a bush girl, who wants the keypads of the computers to step aside so she can grab her pen and paper and continue with life like it was meant to be, uncomplicated, who sometimes wants to smash the mobile phones on the wall and drift back to the days where landlines reigned supreme. i prefer the days where you rush home in excitement and dread asking "did anyone call?" I’m just a local girl after all.

….those days the hair extensions are stuck on my head, those fakies that give me an extra bounce, make me look almost as pretty as I really am…I get uncomfortable, cos you see, I’m just a local girl and I would rather have my hair weaved all back and live in peace as i enjoy the morning breeze pass through it, scratch it with ease when it itches and not with frustration cos of the weaves inside the weaves….I’m just a local girl trying to belong to the posh club.

I’m just a local girl… I want to say ‘how far’ all the time and not 'how are you’ I want to say ‘nawa o’ instead of ‘really’, I want to say ‘shey’ instead of ‘yeah’, I want to say ‘abeg jo, leave that thing….commot for here’ instead of ‘oh please give me a break’ or ‘you don craze?’ instead of ‘ are you crazy?” sigh, sometimes all you peeps make it so difficult for me. And I never thought I would say this, but I really want to scream 'ginger that swagger” in a motor park agboro voice someday in the nearest future. hopefully it wouldn't be at some dinner parry….

Sigh…why wouldn’t you just let me just be local?

Heartbreak of Breakups

“why you dey cry?...e say e no love me again.... If e say e no love you again, somebody else go love you’....Sunny Neji

 Sunny Neji’s song seems like its all a girl needs to get over the heartbreak of a relationship. But the fact is, despite the consoling fact that someone else would love you ‘if e say e no love you again’ you still cant help but cry and dwell in the shadow of self pity because you’re wondering "Why did he stop loving me?" "What went wrong, how can I just become unlovable from the lovable can't live without I was to him?"

So even if somebody else go love you… It doesn’t stop you from wanting to run over his new giggling somewhat pretty girlfriend with your car, and coming down to walk over her with your 10inch heels to make sure the job is complete.

It doesn’t stop you from going over to his place to collect a long forgotten nail polish that probably doesn’t exist anymore, just because you want to be in the same breathing space with him. It doesn't stop you from driving round town all day hoping to catch a glimpse of him. It doesn’t stop you from buying that fabulous aftershave of his and splashing It around your house cos you miss the scent of him.

You see his name on the caller ID and give a smug ‘ahah you’re sorry you left me’ smile, and do a little chicken dance before answering the call, then you find out he's just calling to ask why you keep calling and hanging up. ‘shoot, you thought you hid your caller id”(stalker 101 gone wrong)

“If e say e no love you again, somebody else go love you… rain or shine, you still fine, plenty go come……..”

But uncle Sunny, you don’t understand, Its really a terrifying end, you see being dumped jolts her back to reality, you know sort of like some prophet just emerged and announced to her that somehow, somewhere along the way she missed a part in her creation story and she's definitely not IT and the world doesn't belong to her alone, it evolves around others too and yes, she can be rejected too. So she really does need to cry, its not just the end of a relationship, it’s a crash land into reality, a reality that she, the creator of her little world can be rejected too. And besides Uncle Sunny, what makes you think she’ll love that somebody else?

I love Sunny Neji, his songs make sense…and o, this isn’t my breakup story. my friend just broke up with her boyfriend... and I'm guiltily yayyyyy about it, she was too good for him. Of course I'm not girl enough to tell her this. *sigh* They break up, you rant to make them feel good, they make up and you become the enemy.

If George Clooney dumped me, I’d do all this and more. But fortunately this is fantasy world, so he’ll never get to dump me. I’ll be off adopting a child somewhere with his best friend Brad Pitt before he even gives the dreaded ‘we need to talk’ line:)

So ladies… after the breaking of windscreens and puncturing of tires or wasting money on billboards. "If e say e no love you again…." just move on already, and stop hoping he’ll still have you back. After crying for a week, maybe a year and probably checking into rehab, dust yourself up, Move on, change your name, do brain surgery to extract traces of him from your memory, do whatever it’ll take for you to move on, because Uncle Sunny has assured us that ‘somebody else go love you” enough said.

Yarduaisdead.aww

I heard my president was dead when I was daydreaming about my life with tony stark....I had just come home from the premiere of Ironman 2 and decided I was going to remarry Tony(I got a divorce somewhere between part 1 and the release of part 2) and that scarlette lady....shame on her, displaying all that sexiness. She should show solidarity to womanhood and hide it all for the sake of we who've got waist that exist like real women should.

Anyway, back to the issue at hand, inbetween daydreaming about a fictious character and wondering if It'd be wise of me to go view the new obsidan collection in this financial times, I heard umaru musa yardua was dead....well we've heard that a dozen times before so I'll rephrase he's officially dead!!!!
Its so unfortunate that the greedy people around him who were drunk with power didn't let him die in peace. Wonder what becomes of them now.
Well at least turai's still in government, sort of, she's the 'wicked' 'tough' mother-in-law to a couple of governors and some...who knows,she might get herself married off next.(Ok, that was mean) hope he found his peace with God. I really do.

Its so hilarious the way Nigerians are now pro Yardua, don't follow naijas, or else you'll be left out cold and alone. Those who called for him to die and 'go away jare' are now top mourners on bbm and all d social networks, saying how sad it is and bla bla bla.
The politics already begun. Those justling for the role of VP et all. I definitely love politics in nigeria, as dirty as it be. it'll be a nice movie to watch, the only dirty movie I'm publicly allowed to enjoy without shame.....from the behind the scenes to the in your face scenes. Things are just getting really interesting in my country.

R.I.P uncle Musa.

Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN