Sorry readers, it is the Month of Ramadan, hence there may be no more posts till it’s over. (you know……… Period of Sober Reflection, Haram, Hell and all that). I promise to thrill you all with all the wonderful crazy ideas swirling currently in a dungeon in the back of my head, as soon as Ramadan is over.
Cheers and thanks for reading
Hello everyone. Happy Sunday. Now a bit of good news before I delve into the issue of today. Read yesterday on Yahoo that a man who started an exercise regime, developed an illness called Rhabdomyolysis (the ‘R’ is silent….I think). His muscle fibers deteriorated to the point that his urine turned to Coca-Cola (his words, not mine). I am totally going to ignore the fact that this was P90X Insanity, which as the name implies, is arguably the toughest regiment out there, and the guy who had not exercised in years jumped into the rigorous program that his body obviously wasn’t ready for. I am going to ignore all that and say ‘EXERCISES MAKE YOU SICK’
Husband- Are you not working out today?
Me- What? Are you kidding? Don’t you know that doing exercise now gives you Rhabdomyolysis? eh hen!!! That’s your plan abi. You want me to fall sick and die so that you can marry another wife (breaks down crying)
Husband (confused)- huh?
Ok, the above scenario has not happened yet, but I intend to use it in the nearest future
Rambling done. So a few days ago, I posted a mail sent in by one of my readers. There was a comment made by a friend of Mine, Tokunbo that inspired this present post. You can read that story and the comments here, but the short version is that she mentioned that one of the parties messed with the girl code by sleeping with her friends’ ex and I was like “There is a girl code????””
Hello everyone, happy new month. It is a beautiful day. I had a zombie nightmare last night. Luckily for me, I had a gun that actually worked. I fired the gun and blew up the zombie’s head (hurray). However, in typical nightmarish style, the Zombie didn’t die and kept coming. I remember thinking “*&^% this. That’s cheating”. Then I woke up and I smiled. Usually you wake up from Nightmares when you are about to die. I woke up because my rational head interfered with dream world. So I win.
Aha, that’s enough rambling for today. I got a mail from a Ghanaian. Usually, most of my mails come from Nigeria, but now I got one from Ghana. Pretty cool right? Kawula(hello). Thanks for reading. Thanks for sharing your story. I will be brutally honest with you, but I am glad you wrote to me (In other news, we kicked your butt during the Nations Cup, ha ha ha). Ok. Serious. Here is Louisa’s story.
Hello Hera,
Hello. I hope you can help me with my dilemma. I know a lot of people are likely to judge me, but as they judge, I hope that they can give me real solid advice as well because I really can’t tell anyone else.
I have a good friend. For the purpose of this write-up, I changed our names and our schools. I am sure you understand. Nana and I have been very good friends for 7 years. Nana is very pretty and gets all the attention. I am quite dark and ordinary looking. I have spent a good part of my life in Nana’s shadow, but that has never really bothered me. Nana is a nice girl. Yeah, she did a lot of things that hurt my feelings and have taken away the attentions of guys that I admired, but I know she never did any of that intentionally. She is not that type. I guess it is just one of the things that comes with having a very hot friend.
Read the first Part here
June 23 2005
“Madam, you are not drinking that thing in this room o!’
“what the hell Fati, what kind of poison did you buy?
“Because of you now, my boyfriend would not come into the room. I am so embarrassed’
I looked up at my roommates glaring at me, Bose, Stella and Ngozi. I was shocked that Stella was a part of this. Did everyone forget that she brought the darn thing. Why was I getting all the heat? Oh yeah… Stella had poured it on my rug but I am the bad guy because I have refused to get rid of it. Rugs are expensive naa. I had scrubbed the spot on the rugs for hours and hours…..well for over ten minutes….. and still the smell has not gone off. Even when I had spread the rug outside, our neighbours had complained. My roommates had threatened to burn the rug, but that would be over my dead obese body before I let them burn my property. I don’t care how badly it smells.
June 25 2005
I Burned the rug and got carpets instead. I could not stand the smell any longer.
June 27 2005
It is noon on a Monday morning and I am having brunch at one of the school diners. The whole place is buzzing with boys and girls eating, laughing and gisting. I am sitting on my own eating my double portion Plate of Rice, Plantain and Chicken, (It’s amazing how I always recall what I had eaten in the past with so accuracy. Story of my Life)
You know the wonderful thing about being a Jambite (freshman). All the attention. You are new. you are exciting and all the boys are trying to get in your pants. At least for most girls. For me, it was “try not to get noticed and picked on” mode. My room mates and females course mates were all swept up in the rush, being invited for lunch and dinner at the various diners on campus, going for shows and generally having guys visit them. I spent most of my time reading (no, not school books. Novels. I may be fat but I was not a nerd….what a stupid consolation); and blaming all my woes on Agbani Darego.
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