There Is A God Somewhere

Yesterday, (Saturday August 24th), I attended a wedding. It was really nice, of course. The blushing, glowing bride was gorgeous! The dashing groom was practically floating in his agbada. Love was in the air. Music was blasting thru the speakers, and people were doing all sorts of dance moves. Whether they were in sync with the music or not is a story for another day.

I went into the reception hall hoping to attract as little attention as possible because I was late. Instead, I got lots & lots of attention. Apparently, my outfit was HAWT. I cannot count how many people said they loved the outfit and asked who made it. I said 'Thank You' so many times that I automatically assumed anyone that so much as looked @ me was about to compliment me. One lady asked how I was doing and I replied with 'Thank You.' Oops. Well, it's not my fault jo. I was all that and a bag of chips. Forget what you know. I was stylin & profilin.

I was feeling so cute that I didn't have time to dance well. I needed to perambulate the hall, so that those who didn't see me would see me. I even thought of taking the mic from the mc to give this speech, "Good Evening, everyone. My name is Vera Ezimora. I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has complimented my outfit tonight. For those who have not, I realize that the lines to get to me are a little long, so you're welcome to send all your compliments to P. O. BOX 7893. Essex MD 21221. Thank you in advance. And I'll be signing autographs in front of the high table - directly in front of the bride & the groom."

I couldn't go thru this wedding without something funny happening to me. Just as every other story I have told you, I was jejely sitting down minding my own Verastic business when some man who could not have been less than ten years younger than my father came in front of me and began to roll his hips for me. All I could see in front of me was his groin shooting out. If you were looking @ this man from behind, you would have thought he was giving me a lap dance. Or worse case scenario, fellatio was going on. What else coulda had his hips gyrating like that?? Shamelessly shameless, I tell you.

Was I embarrassed? You. Have. No. Idea.

I have never seen this man in my life before. I don't know what he was attempting to do: makossa dance, public seduction of Vera, public display of hips flexibility, wooing of Vera, or public embarrassment of Vera. He succeeded in doing the last one.

I pushed him away. BEGGED him to stop in the name of love... b4 he breaks my heart... further. He left and still came back three times! And he had the nerves to ask why I had not taken his picture with my camera. Of course, I took his picture - not because I wanted to, but because my friends were gone and I needed them to see this nuisance of a man. And no, I will not post it up here. You never know who might be reading this biko.

But Mr. Hip Gyrator was just an unwelcome distration. I had my eyes on Mr. Contagious [Smile]. We shared a little more than a couple of words between each other and lots and lots of confusing smiles. I sat there pretending to be looking @ my camera, but I wasn't. I was tryna send a nonverbal message. I didn't want to have the don't-talk-to-me look on my face, and @ the same time, I didn't wanna have the please-talk-to-me look, so I settled on the I'm-too-busy-pretending-to-look-at-my-camera-to-notice-you're-staring-at-me look.

At the end of the day, we said our goodbyes in between lots & lots of mysterious smiles. That smile of his was contagious. He just kept on smiling, and I smiled right back. And it wasn't the fake smile I gave him. It was not the please-stop-smiling-at-me-you're-freaking-me-out smile. It was not the what-the-heck-is-so-funny smile, and it was not the yeah-whatever smile. It was the God-I-love-your-smile-so-please-keep-smiling smile. How could one not smile back @ that smile? It was so easy, peaceful, beautiful, calming, and contagious.

No, no, I'm not in love. Just saying there is obviously a God somewhere. Off I go to tell God how I want Him to plan our next chance meeting.

Bananas & Tomatoes

I was driving this morning and almost entering someone else's lane...all because I was trying to peel a banana respectfully, whatever that might mean. So there I was, innocently holding the steering wheel with my left hand and holding the half-way-peeled banana in my right hand, trying to take a bite....which meant putting the banana in my mouth, head first.



Then I looked to my right and saw this oyinbo boy giving me this erotic look. Honestly, I was not trying to do anything naughty to this banana, especially while driving at sixty-five miles per hour on the highway! Anyway, what could I do but laugh?

But it got me thinking. I remember when I was in elementary school in Naija - the age of learning the baddest words. I was in Primary II when I learnt what a 'prick' was. I still don't know why it was called a prick. Was it because of its ability to prick?? Oh, well. I have long found a new name for that member of the body. And no, I do not wish to discuss it. But in order not to be considered as 'rotten' or 'bad,' we often called it banana instead, which made & still makes sense.



I lived in the North (Jos, Plateau State), so we called the female genitalia 'toto' which is vagina in Hausa. But what I do not understand is why toto was also called tomato. What exactly is the resemblance?? The color? The textture? Ugh...! The shape? Goodness, please...not the shape! LOL! Maybe it's its ability to squirt out liquid. Hmmm. That's a very disturbing thought because tomato's liquid comes with seeds!




I do not know about everyone else, but I do not squirt out seeds. If I did, I would have grown more than a few hundred Verastic trees by now. I have had my fair share of peeing on the soil (and it was the good soil too, not that sandy soil that was poor for agriculture). You can thank boarding school for that.


I bet it had to be a man who came up with the idea that tomato somehow looks like toto. Tomato is a fruit that is eaten as a vegetable. It seems to me like tomato is a confused specie, much like the female specie...as men would always gladly say. Besides, what kind of tomato were my Primary II school boys referring to? Plum tomato? Round tomato? Cluster tomato? Heirloom tomato? What???

Don't tell me I'm the only one who is scratching my head and wondering what kind of tomato I am... or was??? I'm tempted to put up a picture of each kind of tomato, but I'll respect myself. LOL. I don't want you to think I'm crazier than you already think I am.

Mr. Slow

Why do I keep doing this 2 myself? I went to see a movie with this guy. Let's call him Mr. Slow. Honestly, he's slow. I think he stays on slow motion. The way he talks, the things he says...goodness! So why did I subject myself to such cruelty? I don't know. I wasn't thinking anything could come out of our movie event. In fact, the only reason I decided to see the movie was because I wanted a situation with the least amount of talking.

So off we went to see the movie. Everything was going great - not because of him, but because of the movie. I was enjoying the movie. We got to the end of the movie and some nice romantic song started playing. Can you believe that this dude started singing right along with the song? Oh! My! Goodness! To say that I was humiliated will be an understatement. Why did he have to sing?

On a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being the worst), his voice was like 20. And he wasn't even trying to sing under his breath. He was singing out loud confidently. Someone had to have told him that he sounded good. Where else could he have summoned the courage to belch the lyrics of that beautiful song, in spite of sounding like a toad? Not only did he not know how to sing, he also didn't even know the lyrics. Whew! Somebori, say it isn't so, please. I was pissed the heck off!

My blood was boiling hot. It was so hot that it was about 10 degrees above hell. Yes, I was that pissed off. Pissed off and embarrassed. All I needed was for those White people to vex and start stoning me with their popcorn and fries. If that had happened ehn, Mr. Slow would have known a different side of me. I would have shown him what hot water does to garri.

As if that is not funny enough, he actually thinks we're in a relationship. LOL. Where did he get that idea, you ask? Who knows? He and I never had such a conversation. Which kin relationship by default be this one? I don't even know how to start laughing anymore. If this is my enemies' way of getting to me, they have failed! I refuse to be tricked into homicide. Yes, my enemies are trying to make me date someone whom I will surely end up killing, but they have failed. LOL.

Why NOT To Chill In A Public Restroom

Techinically, I wasn't chilling. I went in there for a reason. Heaven knows that I only pee in a public restroom when I have to, so I definitely will not be going in there to chill. What the puck! Yes, I said 'puck'. I learnt it from Funmi's three year old baby who said, 'what the puck?' I thought it was so cute, so now I say it every now & then. Well, I don't mean cute as in awwww, she said her first f-word, but cute as in awww, she mispronounced it. Okay, obviously, there is no way for me to say this and meaningfully justify or explain the cuteness of a three year old saying 'puck'. And if you're wondering, the baby learnt it from Funmi's younger brother. And no, I do not at any time of my life - consciously or unconsciously - include the f-word in my vocabulary. Back to my post...

On Monday, July 27th 2008, I was to meet someone at Macy's. I picked Macy's as the spot because I was going to go do some laptop window shopping @ Best Buy which was a few blocks down. As it turned out, I was too tired & exhausted to go to Best Buy, so I just went to Macy's. I was even too tired to shop - not that I had the money sha. My eyes were a bit pink, revealing the limited sleep I had the night before. I literally dragged myself through Macy's. I was even too tired to sniff perfumes, so you gotta believe me when I say I was tired. All I did was circle the shoe section and try on as many shoes as I could, nothing strenuous. About five different women asked me if I needed help. Wetin na?? I no fit try shoe for free again??? *hiss*

When the time to meet the person was getting close, I decided to do myself a favor and go to the restroom to 'powder my nose.' Who even coined this phrase? Does any1 actually go in2 the restroom to powder their nose? Once you enter the bathroom, there are two aisles - one by the left and one by the right. I went to the aisle by the left. I cleaned the leather couch in there and put my bag on it. Alas, I was finally going to use the little make-up I had been carrying in my bag for ages.

My people, there I was oh, jejely opening my blush kini when some Oyibo lady walked in. The haste with which she had walked in should have told me that all wasn't well. This lady went into the stall behind me and next thing I heard was ppppprprrrruuuuuuu ppppprrrruuuuuu prrrrrruuuuuu. Goodness! That one na proper cholera o. I just packed my stuff and quickly ran to the other aisle. Before I could even get to the end of that aisle, a powerful stench almost blew me away. In fact, I was blown away. I didn't have to look far to notice the big feet in a pair of athletic shoes inside one of the stalls. Me sef, I begin dey wonder whether na man abi na woman wey dey inside stall. I had to organize myself o. So yes, I just left the bathroom completely.

Fifteen minutes later, I went back in. I saw the first lady coming out of the bathroom. The look on her face was, "Uh oh, she knows what I did in there." Me sef, the look I hoped was on my own face was, "Yes, I know what you did in there." So the stalls were free. Awesome. I went back to the left aisle of the bathroom because Mrs. Big Feet was still in her stall on the right aisle. I was just beginning oh when some Mexican - to be politically correct, let's call her Hispanic/Latino/Spanish - woman went to that same stall (the one where Mrs. Guilty Shitter had just exited), and before I could blink, she started her own session.

You've gotta be kidding me! That's what I was thinking. Which kin nonsense temptation be that na? The only thing worse than smelling of shit is smelling of someone else's shit. So I ran out of the bathroom again. About ten minutes later, I went back to the right aisle. This time, Mrs. Big Feet wasn't there anymore. I was able to successfully finish powdering my nose and combing my hair to look presentable. Thank God I also had perfume in my bag - two for that matter. Some day, I'll blog about all the crap in my bag.

I washed my hands and left the bathroom, but then I realized I didn't have lotion in my bag. I decided to go to the lotion/perfume section to get a little dab of lotion. As if I had not been traumatized enough, I was walking towards the perfume and lotion section when some nosy Black lady who was waiting for her friend to try on shoes asked me if I had gotten a makeover from Mac. Means what?! Did I look that jacked up before? Of course, I didn't ask. I think I knew what the answer would have been.

To compensate for all the mental injury that Macy's and its customers had caused me, I went to the lotion/perfume aisle and poured some of the lotion (Unforgiveable Woman by Sean John) into my little lotion bottle. Wetin? No be steal I steal am now. Na sample I dey sample. Honestly, I had been planning on going to Victoria's Secret to get more lotion, but there I was, in a section full of several sample lotions. Ah, I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by oh. I filled up on my bottle sharp sharp! In fact, when this lotion finishes, I shall revisit Macy's and fill up with a new kinda lotion. Who knew that such an expensive, nice-smelling lotion could come at such an affordable price?

As for those women who wanted to reperfume me with the stench of their shit, e no go better for them @ allll. If no be say I don change sef, I for don invoke cholera for their side.

Now that you're done laughing at me, please take a moment to read my new article, Poles Apart. Thanks!!