Afronuts, Standtall, Favored Girl, & Naapali

What better way to honor these beautiful people than to use their names as the title of my post? The 4th time has been the charm for me. I have received this award four times. This could mean one of two things:


1. I'm a very honest blogger, and you wonderful people have finally noticed and certified me.


2. I have fooled all of you, and y'll don't know what da heck you're talking about.


...I'm gonna go with number one. It's the certified, honest truth.







1. Afronuts: My dear, thank you for being the first to present me with this award. I know I promised to come back & make a speech, but I never did make it back. For this, I am so, so sorry. That being said, I have a question I have been meaning to ask you. Don't laugh; I'm serious. What does your name mean? I know what 'Afro' means, but what about the 'nuts??' If it's what I think it is, then I'll say, you naughty, naughty, boy!


2. Standtall: Times without number, I have imagined you having a conversation with my cousin, Nachi. He still believes that the Virgin Mary is not a Virgin. Why? She had breasts when she got pregnant. Who on earth made her breasts grow? Surely, someone (maybe Joseph) had to have been squeezing them. Apparently, no woman can grow breasts without a man first laying his hands on them. What say you, Standtall? lol. For those that are wondering, his last name is Ezimora too. I'm really starting to think that something is wrong with these Ezimora people. I'm clearly the only one who is sane.


3. Favored Girl: My love, you are truly favored. I learnt from Pastor Joel Osteen that I should believe I have the crown of favor on my head. So since then, I have been praying about it. I truly have. That being said, you're truly, truly favored. Your 'frumpiness' did not stop you from catching your husband's eyes. lol. Babe, I hope you have upgraded your wardrobe oh. No more grandma panties!! lol. Not many women can be frumpy yet sexy in their husband's eyes. But let's not push it, okay?


4. Naapali: My personal pesin! I've been thinking...of what use are you in my life sef? How can I have a doc in my life and not be using him? I have decided that I will go out today and badly scrape my knees and elbows, and you, Doc Naapali must take care of my injuries, by fire, by storm... FREE OF CHARGE. So please, go & buy your ticket to Baltimore. I hope you don't expect me to fly to Chi-Town for treatment. Now that I think of it sef, the scrapes might not be enough. Where is that butcher knife? I'm off to butcher my left leg off. Bring needle & thread on your way o! My color is a little light, but not yellow. I want the thread you use to sew me to match my skin tone perfectly, please.



Ehen, the rules (which I don't feel like pasting here) state that I should pass the award on to other people and let them know on their blog. Yeah, whatever. First of all, I'm passing this award to ALL MY LOVERS (aka my blog roll). So if your name is there, please consider yourself certified or recertified. For you to own a blog, it means there is an ounce of honesty in you, yes? Secondly, I refuse to visit 70+ blogs to tell them that they have been certified. That would be glorified spamming. Besides, I have better things to do with my time. I don't know what they are yet, but I know I have them.


Unlike Doc Naapali who shameless told people whose names were not on his list to meet him somewhere with their bank account number, I will be dignified. I will not stoop so low and ask for bank account details. I will respect myself, and say instead that...


...I am sorry if your name is not on my list of lovers, but not to worry, my list is not written in stone. It is ever growing and changing. Change is the only constant thing in life anyway, right? Simple measures can and should be taken to rectify this situation. To have your name added, send @ least one of the following perfumes to my address ASAP. Number 1 & 2 are my most precious ones. I know it's a rather short list, but I didn't wanna be greedy, you know...


1. Secret Obsession by Calvin Klein


2. Pour Femme by Bvlgari


3. Romance For Her by Ralph Lauren


4. Rock n Rose by Valentino


5. Absolutely Irresistable by Givenchy


6. Miracle Forever by Lancome


7. M by Mariah Carey

8. Magnifique by Lancome

9. Notorious by Ralph Lauren

10. Vera Wang by Vera Wang

11. Princess by Vera Wang

12. Daisy by Marc Jacobs

13. Gucci by Gucci

14. Ninna by Ninna Ricci

15. Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker



...Yeap, this method is so much more dignified. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. If you've got a problem with it, let your complaints be known by sending one or more of the perfumes above to

Vera Ezimora


P. O. BOX 7893

Essex, MD 21221

United States of America


***All complaints that are not accompanied by @ least one bottle of perfume will NOT be attended to. Shikena!!***

Wedgie Over Here, Wedgie Over There...

Wedgie everywhere....!!! All in favor of comfortable underwear, say "Aye!!"

When it comes to underwears, I usually have only two major criterias: comfortable & colorful. I need it comfortable because my butt cheeks are worth it, darn it!. They deserve to be clothed and adorned in only the most comforable piece of attire, something fit for royalty...in a Hanes package, of course. It has to be colorful because, well, even though my butt cheeks do not have seven colors of the rainbow making their debut on them, they (my butt cheeks) still have the right to feel the rainbow.

I occasionally wear T-strings. Not thongs o! T-strings r the very thin ones. Thongs r too thick, and for me, that is just too much material to be getting stuck between my butt cheeks. The T-strings r much more comfortable. You hardly feel them. But then, that's just me. That being said, I don't wear them everyday or every week. I don't think I even wear them every month. I only wear one when necessary. You know there are some outfits that just look better without panty lines abeg...like those extra tight skirts, yes? *wink, wink*

I used to wear "regular underwears" with bikini strings by their sides. I can't remember what they were called. I stopped wearing them because I couldn't find them anymore. Well, I found them, but just not the ones I liked. I switched to the sporty bikini ones. They have ropes by their sides too, but the ropes are thicker, and not quite as fascinating. They were just too.... errrr.

I recently switched to boy shorts. My people, that was where my trouble started oh. Those boy shorts are big enough to be confused as booty shorts. In fact, they are sometimes called booty shorts, but of course, I wouldn't wear them outside. I wouldn't even wear a booty short outside anyway, so whatever. But why did I switch to boy shorts? The ones I found were coloful, and they looked comfy. But as I later came to find out, those underwears were just fine for nothing. They succeeded in giving me a wedgie every time. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to have a wedgie from an underwear that is almost as big as a booty short? Do you know? Oh, the horror!! Several times, I found myself standing in public places and wiggling around like I had something crawling on me. They were never the kind of wedgies that I could discretely pull out. They were always the kinds I had to stand in a corner where no one was looking, put my hand in the back of my pants (trousers) and pull the darn underwear down. Sometimes, I even said, "Forget who is looking. I can't take this anymore!!" and yes, I dug in. It didn't matter where I was...Walmart...on the street, church, bank, Best Buy...whatever!! Desperate situationes call for desperate measures, right? All this suffering for the sake of wearing a colorful underwear???

This didn't happen like once or twice a day. It happened several times a day. The wedgies I got were just phenomenal. They could not be ignored. They were the wedgies from hell. Two weeks ago, I went out with my ever outspoken mom. I was wearing a tight khaki-colored capri, and I had a serious wedgie, as usual. Being @ a public place, I pretended it wasn't there. However...

Mom asked, "What kind of underwear are you wearing? I can see everything. It's giving you pafinga." So 'pafinga' is mom's word for wedgie. That was it! That did it! If mom who wears glasses and sometimes doesn't even recognize people could see that I had a chronic wedgie, then that meant that the rest of the world could see it too. So it was with a broken heart that I came to terms with the harsh reality of my love-hate affair: Boy shorts had to go!

I went shopping on Monday, and I am now the proud wearer of hipsters underwears. No wedgies. No pafinga. They sit on my hips, so they don't show when I bend over (which was another problem I had with the boy shorts. They were pretty, but I didn't care for everyone else to see them when I bent over). The hipsters underwears are pretty too. They're comfy. I have to admit that I am a bit psychologically bruised from having my butt cheeks hang out everywhere but inside the underwear they were intended to hang out in. Thank goodness for hipsters. I may need a Shrink to get over this one.

The real problem now is....what to do with all those boy shorts??? I really wish I had a husband. I would have put him to good use. My good ol' hubby woulda been modeling around for me in the boy shorts by now. He mighta even worn my heels and thrown on a pink scarf around his neck. Boy, I can't wait to be married. Sooooo many ideas!!

What Is In This Bag Sef?

Yesterday, I took my dear grandma to several stores to do some shopping. We started our journey before 3pm, at which time I had neither had breakfast nor lunch - big mistake. We went from store to store to store, looking for everything and getting almost nothing. I don't wanna say I hate shopping, but I hate shopping. I'm not someone who wants to spend an entire day in the mall going from store to store. If money weren't a hindrance, and I knew I could walk into any store and pick up as much as I wanted, then maybe I'd feel differently about shopping, but for now, I just wanna go and pick up the one (or few items) I came for.

But Grandma will not hear of it! Na so so waka waka we dey do up and down White Marsh Mall. And then all those little kiosk people that stay in the middle of the aisle of the mall always wanna sell you everything with a smile. One man wanted to convince me to buy windows to remodel my home. I don't even own a home. Abeg, waka jo! I think it's because I was smiling with them. After a while, I started boning. The hunger was getting to me too much. I was hungry, tired, sleepy, and cranky. My Grandma was busy asking if I was boning because I did not have my 'ula ndi ocha' (oyibo people's sleep). Just because I have refused to wake up @ 6 AM with the chickens like my Grandma, it means I am sleeping like oyibo people. So be it then.

Even though I was cranky, na so so laugh this woman dey make me laugh. Why did she want to enter Forever 21 to shop for herself? Me sef wey be grand-daughter, I have forgotten what it's like to be 21. Grandma, if na joke, stop am o! And then I went into Bath & Body Works to get some foot soak. I was talking to the store attendant while my grandma was looking around. By the time I was done shopping, my grandma had found something she wanted: one of those long brushes, the ones you use to scrub your back. It's not a sponge; it's an actual brush. Anyway, guess what this woman wanted to use it for? To scrub the sink! LOL. I couldn't control myself.

Anyway, you know there r no carts in the mall, so everything you buy, you have to carry around from store to store. My shoulders were aching. My back was aching. My neck was aching. I suffer no be small oh. Every time I had a chance, I dropped the shopping bags on the floor and held on to my ertra large purse/handbag. But then, I still felt heavy. It was then that it dawned on me that my bag was wayyyy too heavy. When I came home, I decided to investigate the issue of the rather heavy bag and see what it was that was making it so heavy. Let's examine, shall we?

1. My daily planner

2. MP3 charger. Have never needed it outside my house since I started carrying it.

3. Big black bottle of pepper spray. Have never needed this either. Besides, the attacker for don wound be finish b4 I bring am out abi? See as the thing big reach.

4. Make-up Bag. Totally useless. I have an idential one in my glove compartment, and I don't wear make-up everyday. I've only needed that one once.

5. Cell phone earpiece. Don't use it.

6. Little brown bag for coins

7. Yellow Wallet.

8. MP3 player, earpiece, and their own personal pink pouch. Don't use my mp3 player either. And I have a little one in the car too.

9. Bottle of lotion

10. Bottle of Scope mouth wash

11. Little silver bottle of Victoria's Secret Perfume

12. White packet of flossers.

13. USB

14. Spare key for my car

15. Extra memory card (just in case I forget my regular memory card in my laptop and carry an empty camera out. Experience has taught me a lesson!)

16. Advil pain reliever. I've barely needed this. Most times, other people need it

17 Pink Lip Gloss. Don't even use it anymore.

18. Nail Cutter: Sometimes I need to cut my nails urgently, and I don't like using people's nail cutter(s)

19. Purple/Lilac spiral index card book. Dunno why I have this.

20. Extra Pens.

21. Hair Bands. Just in case the one on my hair gets lost or breaks/cuts. Don't like my hair touching my neck. Have to have it held up.

22. Little Black & white book: Have no idea what it's for.

23. Bluetooth earpiece

24. Another lip gloss

25. Mac Lip Conditioner (the best!!!)

26. Clear nail Polish

27. Little Note Book. To take notes/ideas down for articles et al when I'm not home or by my compura.

So abeg, make una helep me. What should I get rid of? Don't think of telling me to get rid of the flossers or the mouth wash coz it ain't happening!

Current Facebook Status (updated Sunday): Vera had a very long day and would appreciate a massage right about now. *whispering*...call me!

He Had Me @ Hello

On Wednesday, I went to Sam's Club to buy some stuff. My intention was to pay cash for some stuff, and then pay with my card for the rest because I needed change to go to the African Store, and I don't like paying with card @ the African store. No, I don't trust my own people. Sad, I know.

Anyway, I was in line, very distracted, thinking about God-knows-what. Prior to it being my turn to pay, I had everything figured out. I knew exactly what items I was going to pay for with cash and what items I was gonna pay for with my card. It got to my turn, I offloaded my items from my cart, and then the cashier said, "Hello, how are you doing today?" Kai! My people, that was how this boy just scattered my brain. He even had the balls to expose his white set of teeth and show me his beaurriful smile. It didn't help that his voice was nice too. Yes, I have a male-voice fetish.

All the time I had been standing in line, I had not realized just how fine the cashier was. If I had, I would have switched lanes with immediate alacrity. Why? Fine boys confuse me. They disrupt me. They discombobulate me. I don't stand and stare or gawk at them, so it's not like they make me walk into poles or something (na jazz?!). It's more of a mental thing. I'm usually organized (even mentally. I mean, I arrange my thoughts too!). Fine boys just throw me off and make me forget what I was doing/thinking. They spoil things. They wreck my mind. They make a total mess of my mental plans. They --- well, you get the idea.

All this boy had to say was, 'hello,' and next thing I knew, I was sliding my card and paying for everything. As I was signing for my transaction, I was thinking to myself, 'You big dummy, you weren't supposed to put everything on your card.' Funny thing is, I'm not someone who is so big on looks when it comes to dating. I mean, I cannot define physical beauty to you. I tend to fall for other things like the voice, the crazy sense of humor, playfulness, intelligence, not being into parties (or at least being partied out)...etc. I mean, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? I'm usually the one who says a guy is fine and then friends are looking @ me like I've lost my good sense. So yeah, other things attract me first, I think.

As if that was not bad enough, the boy even smiled at me when I was leaving and told me to have a nice day. Nice day, my foot! lol. Okay, obviously, he was only doing his job, but I needed him to not do it so well. It was messing with my psychology. Fine boys are a distraction for real. I suddenly feel like writing an entire article about what I want from my husband. Hmmmm. Interesting.

Note to my future husband: Don't be threatened by this admission. I might space out of our conversation for a few seconds (minutes) when a fine boy is passing, but it will never, ever change how I feel about you.

Father Of Mine

It's not my Dad's birthday today, but I just feel like blogging about him. Let's say I want you to know a bit about the man whose loins I have made proud (eww). Maybe I'll blog about my mom next time.

In my XX years on earth, I still think my dad is the funniest man ever. He says and does the silliest things. He says & does things that really make me stay up late @ night & ponder about his sanity. Like...

When he farts (and I mean long, loud, stinky farts), he forces us (including my mom) to all hail him, "Ogbuefi!" I think that is the silliest thing ever. It's bad enough that you have farted; now you want me to praise you on top of it?

***He won't let us leave the room when he farts. We must inhale the bomb.

***He has an unnatural love for cashew nuts, and I think I love them just as much. Only thing is that I'm afraid of pimples.

***He's late for EVERYTHING. If he weren't his own boss, I'm sure he would have been fired for lateness.

***When I was in Naija, we used to go late to church for the dumbest things. Usually, it was because my dad was fascinated by the hens & cocks that were perambulating our compound. So instead of getting ready for church, he'd sit outside and watch them. The funny thing is, I became fascinated by them too. I used to just sit outside & watch them @ odd times.

***Dad would miss church sometimes and tell us to go ahead, claiming that he would stay home and pray the rosary instead. When we're leaving the house, dad would already be on his knees reciting the thing. When we come back almost two hours later, the man will still be in the same position - except this time his eyes will be red. But he'll claim he wasn't sleeping oh. It's just that he decided to pray the rosary more than once. Yeah, right! lol.

***He has a remarkable ability. He can tell the resemblance between a human being and almost anything. He told some lady that she looked like a maggot. Honestly, she really did look like a maggot. I have come to realize that people often look like weird things to me too. Like this very handsome guy friend of mine who looks like cabin biscuit. I also know someone who looks like a carrot. And I know this man who looks like a cat. But don't misunderstand me; they're not ugly @ all oh. They just look like other things to me.

***My dad always gets confused on those roundabout things on the road. He never goes around them once. He must go @ least twice.

***He's very, very careless. Every time we give him the keys to the house, he loses them. We stopped giving them to him.

***My dad swears that snails look like vajayjays. I don't eat snails, but the fact that he even said they look like vajayjays makes them even less appealing. Yuck!!! But he eats them oh. He eats anything.

***He's a meat lover. He says, 'the maggot in a fish is the meat, so eat them all.'

I could go on & on about this man, but how much time do you have? I look very much like my father, and we get along pretty darn well. He calls me, 'mummy' coz his mom has gone to a better place (I never met her). I think I blush when he calls me that. lol. Needless to say, I treat the man like my baby. When he falls asleep on the couch, I cover him up. I dust his shoes for him, I eat with him, I sit on his laps... I do everything. So anyway, maybe it's because of him I am 'weird.' I got my weird genes from him. He got them from his mother. He looks a lot like her. Her name was Susan. He was gonna name me Susan....but Vera happened.

This Is For You, Bumight

Yes, I know you have changed your name, but I like Bumight better. For those that are wondering why I am dedicating an entire post to Bumight, it is because a while ago, she put up a handwritten post - something I told her to never, ever do, so before I even read the post, I left a comment reminding her that I had warned her to never subject me to read her handwriting. It was only after commenting that I went back to read and realized she also had a typed version, specially for me. Oops. I apologized oh, but my darling Bumight insisted that I dedicate an entire post to her, so Bumight, this one here is for you.

Bumight, my darling, my love, my sugar, sweetie, it is with a broken heart that I approach you on this semi-cloudy day in Baltimore, begging and pleading that you forgive me. You know what you mean to me, baby, but just in case you don't know, I will remind you. You, Bumight are the only fungi on my feet, the only rashes on my neck, the only birth mark on my middle left toe, the only maggot in my fish, the only insect in my beans. You're my darling, Bumight.

From the bottom of the bottom of my heart, I plead that you forgive me. From the stretch marks that have appeared on my hips (due to rapid stretching), I plead that you forgive me. From the mysterious brown dot that resides on my left butt cheek, I plead that you forgive me. [I am still investigating this brown dot, and I am currently seeking extra hands and eyes. Touching and kissing of Vera's bum might be necessary. All interested candidates, please apply]. I am tempted to put a picture of the brown dot, but I will respect myself. From my belly button which has recoiled and disappeared into a hole where I cannot reach it or pull it out, I am sorry.

From my right butt cheek which still bears that scar I got when I refused to stay still while my father was injecting me at the age of 5, I am sorry. I am also tempted to put up a picture of this scar, but once again, respect - more like shame - has won. From my arms which are still tanned and discolored from standing under the sun for too long in May, I am sorry. From my thighs which seem to be lighter than the rest of my body, I am sorry. From my armpits which take FOREVER to grow hair, I am sorry. From my eyes which have been described as 'Chinese,' I am sorry. From my elbows which are crazily darker than my arms, I am sorry.

Bumight, ever since that post of yours, I have not slept. Sleep has not found me. I have gone around searching for sleep, but she has hidden her face from me. Please, say you have forgiven me, so that normalcy can be restored to my life. I want to begin to live Verastically again. I have neither eaten nor drunk. I have not even blinked or taken a breath. That is how much you affect my life, Bumight.

From the very first time I set my eyes on you, I knew I had to have you. Forgive what I said on your blog. Like I told you, it was our enemies that wrote through me. The fact of the matter is that I find your handwriting to be very, very beautiful (tongue in cheek), and once upon a time, I used to write like that when I was about two years old. But these our haters, they want to come between our love, Bumight. They are trying to separate us. But how can one separate rice from beans? Okay, fine. Maybe rice & beans can be separated, but we are a different kind of rice & beans. We are the original, 100% rice & beans.

To prove my love and dedication, I am willing to do the unbelievable. All you have to do is drop out of that yeye med school of yours. I've told you that you're not even on their level sef. You're better than allllll of them, including the teachers. Drop out and open your own hospital - Bumight & Sons International Hospital Plc. Together, we will perform an open heart surgery on a blogger of our choice. I personally think we should start with that Afrobabe of a girl who always goes around commenting first on everyone's blog. Once I get her out of my way, I can move up the ladder. If the surgery does not succeed.... i.e. if Afrobabe ends up being less alive than she was before the surgery, we will hide the body under Naijaleta's bed. No reason for picking Naijaleta. He's just been on my mind lately. [Naijaleta, gerrout of my mind! This is invasion of privacy!]. The evidence of the attempted surgery will be erased. No1 will ever know we even attempted it.

So Bumight, my love, what say you?

See Me See Wahala O

Before I go any further, I wanna take full responsibility for this outlandish situation that I now find myself in. Yes, it was my fault. Yes, I have learnt my lesson. No, I will never make such a mistake (I hope).

I met TAB @ a wedding a few months ago. He asked for my number and I gave it. Why? I dunno. I guess I was tryna be nice. (Chemistry = zero. Attraction for him = zero. Possible Future = NEGATIVE). The wedding was on a Saturday. Three days later (Tuesday), he called for the first time, saying he called to hear his baby's voice before going to bed. Hold Up!!! Baby?? Who? When? Tufai kwa!

TAB lives in a different State, so I have not seen him since that wedding months ago, thank God. He has tried to come and visit me several times, but I've been coming up with excuses. What am I gonna be seeing him for?? For a while, there was no communication between us. Well, there was a one-way communication. He comminicated. I didn't respond. So he stopped calling. Recently, he started calling again. I spoke to him once. Other times, we just texted. I told him clearly that under NO circumstance will I enter any kind of relationship with him. Problem? TAB apparently doesn't understand anything I'm saying. Either that, or I'm speaking alien.

Oh, did I mention that TAB is very guilty of four of my major pet peeves??
1. He can't speak English - although he's a college graduate.
2. He can't write English - this is evident in the fact that I cannot understand his texts.
3. He can't spell English - he just spells something that he thinks is English.
4. He doesn't understand ANYTHING I say. Does any1 know how 2 translate alien?

He doesn't know my last name, I think. He'll never discover this blog, I hope. Will that stop me from blogging about him? Abso-freaking-lutely not! I'll show you exact texts that have been shared between us. I'm not gonna edit the spellings or any kinda errors, so that you can see what I have been seeing. The texts you see here are exactly the same way on my phone.

Wednesday, Aug 27th 2008. 12:49 AM
TAB: Hi I am not happy with u response why all this yanga

Me: What yanga are you talking about now?

TAB: I told u that I wanna come see u since then u are telling me this week I have a wdeng next week not sure thats yanga I mean the business when I saw u I think u are d one

Me: TAB, I cannot be the one. I told you I don't even want a relationship. I am not the one.

TAB: What do u want I love 2 take care of lady but I hate yanga

Me: This is not yanga. This is me saying no.

TAB: Saying no to what? 2 me?

Me: To you and to a relationship. I cannot give you what you want.

TAB: I want u but I not cracy about u but I got feeling 4 u if I am chanced.

He spelt crazy as cracy. That was the last straw. At this point, I didn't even bother replying again. I just went 2 bed.

Wed, Aug 27th 2008. 8:48 PM
TAB: Why are u still make things hard 4 me?

Me: I'm not making things hard for you. You're not crazy about me. I'm not crazy about you. What are we supposed to be doing with each other?

TAB: Ok I m cracy about u thats is why am still asking u

Me: I don't have time for these games, TAB. You've already said you're not crazy about me and that's fine with me. Whether you're crazy about me or not doesn't matter because I do NOT want a relationship with you. Please understand what I am saying. I am trying very hard to not be mean to you but you're making this very difficult.

TAB: Whao u said u don't wanna to be mean this is my point there nothing wrong in disagree 2 agree let move on 2 d next chapter.

Me: And what is the next chapter?

TAB: To know each other differences dos n dont personality etc. That will help in building a strong n good relationship it will to allow each other for who we are n makes us 2 be constructive n criticising

Me: So you didn't understand me when I said I didn't want a relationship, right? Goodnight, TAB.

TAB: Goodnight my Vera (your Vera??? Boy, you done lost yo mind!)

Ever since then, TAB has successfully sent @ least one message everyday. I don't bother replying anyone of them. Two days ago, he sent this one, "Hi I havent hear from u for a while all am looking for is good woman that is going to be committed caring n loving I am trying 2 communicate this 2 u but if u cannot this requirements let me know then I make a pick d day I saw u"

My response? None. For starters, I don't even understand the text. If any of you wonderful readers understand it, please do explain it to me. I cannot burn valuable brain cells trying to decipher this jargon. The fact that TAB has my number is embarassing enough to me sef. Can you just imagine me and him having a conversation? I will be bald by the end of it because frustration and anger would have led me to pull out all my hair. If I were dead and TAB came to my grave to ask me out, I will wake up and say, HELL NO!!! If I were to take a man like TAB to my parents, they will definitely be disowning me. How will he talk with my parents? I have a blunt, sometimes-impatient mother and a very, very sarcastic father. Oh, and a Grandma who looks sweet as can be but her words can hurt a rock. The rest of my family will gladly tell him to repeat everything he said, just so that they can laugh. Lai lai.

Mr. TAB, abeg just arrange your dignity and leave me alone oo! You are beneath my capacity! Gosh, I've been longing to say that for so long. I dunno why I keep volunteering myself into this kind of trouble. I need to go wash my head in the river 4 real. The question I keep asking myself is: How and why did I let this get this far? Better yet, why did I even let it start in the first place?

Anyway, after you're done answering my questions and explaining TAB's text message(s), please take a minute to welcome a new blogger, Temite

Positively Obsessed

I have a very obsessive mind...as I have now come to acknowledge. I'm not obsessive-compulsive, but my mind easily gets stuck on one issue. For as long as I can remember, this has always been one of the things about me that even I cannot fathom. Now, here are a few of favorite things. And yes, I am currently very obsessed with thinking about them. I just cannot figure them out, and that drives me insane....!



On Saturday, I attended a cookout. Twas nice....lotsa people, most of whom I did not know. A young girl/lady who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties approached me, shook my hand, and said, "Nice to finally meet you. Don't worry about where I know you from, but it's nice to finally meet you." So of course, I have a new thought to be obsessed with. Who was she? Was she a blogger? (Honestly, for a minute, I wondered if she was SolomonSydelle coz SolomonSydelle is the only Maryland blogger Icould think of). Was she a reader? WHO. WAS. SHE? The fact that I'm blogging about it today tells you that I still don't know. I cannot stop thinking about it. I probably will not stop thinking about it - until I find out, that is. So dear, anonymous hand shaker, please reveal thy self. Biko. I beg of thee.


Take a look @ this pencil. Now, someone tell me why this pencil has two mouths. Every time I see my mom using it, I just feel like snatching it out of her hands and breaking one mouth off. Whose idea was it to sharpen two mouths onto this poor pencil? Why will one pencil be entitled to two mouths? It's not like you can write with both of them at once. Besides, what happens when I make a mistake and need to erase it? What kind of pencil comes without an eraser? Am I the only one who doesn't find this to be mind-boggling? And then again, the pencil has the words 'Happy Birthday' inscribed on it. Whose birthday?? Alright, enough of the two-mouthed pencil b4 I snap.



Sometime in April or maybe May, I went to Shoppers' grocery store, and I was passing by the aisle where they have baked goods. They had doughnuts, muffins, croissants etc. Then I saw this sign: Shoppers' World Famous Colossol Doughnuts. Errrrr. World famous??? Since when? Until I saw that sign, I don't think I even knew that Shoppers made douughnuts. And now they had the nerves to call their doughnuts world famous?? Oh, please! So I went back there today, just to take a picture of the sign, but sadly, it was gone and now replaced with that a new one. Now, their doughnuts eat other doughnuts for breakfast. Well, whatever. I'm glad that I got a chance to finally blog about this. I have been thinking about it since April or May.

I passed this stop sign about two weeks ago. I couldn't help but notice the weed growing behind it. I actually went back to that street today with my camera to go take a picture of the sign. And no, the road wasn't even on my way. I actually drove there today just to take this picture. I parked the car and came out, just to take a picture of this sign. Why? I'm very puzzled by why and how the weed started growing behind the sign. The sign is metal/iron. It's silly, I know, but I have not been able to stop thinking about it ever since I spotted it. What if the weed grows long enough to completely cover the stop sign? Will a person still be given a ticket for running the sign? Hmmmm. I wonder.