So This Past Weekend...

I went for the naming ceremony like I mentioned in my other post. That ceremony was baaaad!!! ... in a good way, of course. DJ dey there. Live band sef dey there. We danced and danced. The music kept switching from DJ to live band. I danced till I could dance no more - literally. I pulled a muscle, and that was soooo not funny! Both of my legs are still hurting badly. My thighs hurt. My calves hurt. My feet hurt. My toes hurt. I wore heels most of the day - night rather. Funmi drove us to the venue; I drove back. It shoulda taken me an hour to get home; I drove home in like 40 mins. Na so I dey speed 4 road. Funmi and her three siblings all fell asleep in the car and left their lives in my hands. I shoulda driven us all into a ditch.

By the way, you know what time I left the party? Past six in the morning! And the only reason why it was six in the morning was because the time had changed. It would have been seven in the morning. Never in my life have I attended such a naming ceremony. Alcohol was unlimited. Music was unlimited. Dancing was unlimited. Food sef was unlimited. Even though I did not have a drop of alcohol, I felt drunk on something. It musta been the music. Or someone drugged my sunkist.

The party couldn't go without meeting those people. Out of respect for the hosts, I will not blog about everyone I feel like blogging about. I will however, blog about two guys whom I have absolutely no respect for.

Mr. I-Just-Wanna-Be-Friends: So there I was dancing away, not caring who was looking or what they mighta been thinking about this Igbo gal who was dancing with her ikebe. Mr. I Just Wanna Be Friends decided that he wanted to talk 2 me. After the usual small talk like what's your name, where are you from...blah blah blah, he got down to business.

Him: Can I have your number?

Me: No, I have a boyfriend. (forget about the veracity of this statement. That is my new story, and I'm sticking to it.)

Him: [looking puzzled] I just wanna be friends. (Yeah, right! Gimme a break. Na so dem dey take become friends 4 ur village? *hiss*)

Me: No, I'm sorry I still can't.

Him: What about an email address?

Me: Nope.

Him: Please. I'm begging you.

Me: No, I cannot.

Him: Do you live with your boyfriend?

Me: No.

Him: So what's the problem? Will he beat you if he finds out you're talking to me?

Me: [amused] No, he won't beat me, but I still cannot.

Him: Maybe you'll consider me next time we meet then?

Me: Yeah, maybe.



So I bet you're wondering what's so special about him. Well, the next day, I found out he's married!! And his wife is pregnant. Ah, the God that I serve is a living God oh. What kind of nonsense is this? Tufia kwa. It is not my portion oo. I rebuke all ye married men. If I see him next time and he dares to open his mouth and say that rubbish to me, I'll have a very good answer for him.



Mr. I-Just-Wanna-Screw-Her: Yes, people. Someone actually said he just wants to screw me, that's all. He told Funmi that he liked me, but he hoped I wasn't the kind who will cling to him after he got what he wanted. After Funmi told him I wasn't that type (who will give it up...unless you're Barack Obama), he said that was even better because he did not wanna share me with anyone else. By the way, this dude is married. With kids. And maybe like two baby mamas. And yes, he's Nigerian - Yoruba to be precise. And that nonsense Funmi of a girl even came to deliver the message to me. So what did I do? I told her to tell him to talk to me himself. Boy, I can't wait to lay his ass out. You should see this guy I'm talking about. Busola swears he looks like a goat. Looking @ the pictures, I cannot say I didn't see the very striking resemblance between him and that goat my grandma used to have. May his soul rest in perfect stomach.



I really am tempted to show pictures of these dudes. I know they know me. The goat-looking one will not have a hard time locating this site. We have plenty mutual acquaintances. I'm not scared of what will happen if I put his picture here, but out of respect for the hosts, I will not.



This is that crazy friend of mine, Funmi. The gal was dancing alllllllllll night long. She swears she was not drunk, but I beg to differ. As we speak right now, a special team is investigating the issue. If it makes you feel better, there are plenty more pictures from where this one came from. In other words, you know I won't leave you without pictures. There were about 1000 (yes, one thousand) pictures, but I have only uploaded 62 for your viewing pleasure. I doubt if any of you wanna see a thousand pictures. Oh, I forgot to mention that the baby's name is Tanitoluwa. She has other names actually, but Tanitoluwa is my favorite, so I will call her, Tani! She's soooo gorgeous. To view the pictures, click HERE



And can I just say, Congrats Obama!!!!!

Yes, We Can?? Yes, We Have!!!!!!!!

Oh, thank you, Lord!!!!!! I am dancing. Singing. Shouting. Screaming. I am doing anything and everything I can think of right now. Obama is the next President of the United States of America. Thank you, Father!!! Me, I no fit shout.....!!! It is OVER!!!!!!!!!

I am so happy right now that I feel like putting up a picture of myself. I need to go offline before I do. I am this close. Walahi.... I am ready to attach the picture.

I'm out!!!

Barack Da Vote!!!

Okay....so this is not a real update. Forgive me. I have been typing up a post for y'll since yesterday, and I still have not been able to post it. I wanted to gist you about the naming ceremony I attended (and also show some pictures, of course), but right now...

I'm scared!!!!

When I came home, Obama had 3 electoral votes while McCain had 16. I was about to pass out. I was shaking like a leaf in winter. For those that are either not following the race or just not into politics, the magic number that each candidate has to get is 270. As of right now, Obama has 103 electoral votes while McCain has 58.

Okay, breath Vera.

The fact that McCain even has any electoral vote at all means that God did not answer my prayer - the one where all McCain supporters will mistakenly vote for Obama.

Okay, I'm off. I'll update properly later. Maybe tomorrow. If Obama doesn't win, I might not blog tomorrow. In fact, I will NOT blog. God, I'm really very scared.

Goodbye Public Picture Of Vera

My goodness, my heart has just been beating gbam gbam gbam ever since that Busola of a girl put up her wedding website. Busola got engaged in 2006 (can't believe it's been two years already) and I blogged about her engagement. Anyway, she made one of those wedding websites, of course. As her maid of honor (which really was an honor to her), she had to have my picture up there in her Bridal Party section...

So there it was.....a very clear picture of me with my name, Vera Ezimora clearly inscribed beside it. The thing was giving me hives. Every time I visited her site, I shrieked. Of course, I conveniently forgot to mention to bloggers that Busola's wedding website was up and that my picture was there. In fact, my blogging life came to a halt. Honestly, I didn't stop blogging because of my picture. I just got busy, but it all worked out, I guess because I know myself; I mighta let it slip out of my mouth (fingers).


Some people discovered me sha although they weren't bloggers, or at least not that I know of anyway. But this other website that I will also conveniently not mention here, their amebo members discovered me. Chei. They were having a 5th year anniversary party here in Maryland, but I sternly declined the invitation, feigning anonymity, only to be told, "But Vera, we already saw your picture na. We saw it on Busola's website. One of the members saw your picture and brought it to everyone's attention. He/she started a thread and told everyone that one of our writers is there." Well, isn't that just lovely! So, I bowed my head in shame and attended the party. lol.

But now, the website has expired. It expired ever since actually, and I have been making attempts to visit it, trying to trick the internet into leading me to it, just in case the big world wide web is hiding it, lol, but so far, nothing. Yay!!! I can now breathe and go to sleep easily. I'm not quite sure why I'm so into this picture thing. I'm not even 'anonymous.' A buncha people already know what I look like. And I am actually readily available to meet with people. I might as well be out with it, yes? I dunno how long I will keep hiding my face. A picture of me seems to surface on facebook every month. How long am I supposed to stalk facebook and untag all pictures of me? Ko easy oooo!!!

Anyway, now that the picture is gone, I'm sooooooo excited. I can now go around and look for trouble anywhere, anyhow, any time, knowing that no1 knows what I look like. I can go to SolomonSydelle's house and pee in her closet. She'll never know it was me. I can go to Naapali's house and steal one of his expensive bikes. He'll never know it was me. I can go to Standtall's house and steal Molly or Garfield (and use them to cook cat fried rice which I will serve to Standtall to eat). I can go to Aloofar the Effiko's house and steal his books (or pour coffee on them). Who will tell him I did it? I can throw a rock thru Bumight's window and she'll never know it was me. I can send a text to Qmoney, borrow some money and run away. She'll never see me. I can remove all the pegs on Oluwadee's clothes hanging on the line outside. I can post the video of Mizchif receiving a lap dance from the female stripper @ the strip club (Yeah, I bet she didn't know I knew! lol). I can kidnap Tobenna's fiancee and stand in her place. He'll never notice (wait, has the wedding passed???). I can steal Temmy Tayo's son. I can steal Simi Speak's daughter. Okay.... enough. Shebi you get the idea??? I am invincible!! Simply unstoppable.

By the way, happy one-year wedding anniversary to Busola!! She got married on the 27th of October 2007. Yes, I know today is November 1st, but so what??? And you will not believe what Funmi suggested she give her husband as an anniversary gift - I can just hear Funmi's heart pounding here. She thinks I'm gonna rub shit all over her face and tell all of blogville. Well, I'd like to, but ---- Happy Anniversary, Busola!!!

Shebi una remember Y?? The one we had a baby shower for where Funmi was shamelessly yahoozeeing?? Well, she had a bouncing baby gal!! As you read this now sef, I might be over there 4 the naming ceremony. If Funmi yahoozees today, you bet I'll capture it. Anything for you, blogville!! What can I say? I have no social life. You, blogville, are my social life.

Now That I've Been Interviewed By Standtall...

Certain things have to change around here. I am no longer on you people's level oo! I am now an interviewee. This means that I can no longer be addressed as Vera, but rather as Madam Interviewee Vera. Shey una grab??

Here are a few rules and regulations that all bloggers and commentors must follow

1. No one is allowed to start a blog without first consulting Madam Interviewee Vera and getting her permission.

2. No one is allowed to put up a blog post or comment on any post (including theirs) without first consulting Madam Interviewee Vera and getting her permission.

3. All bloggers must send a bottle of perfume to Madam Interviewee Vera's P. O. BOX monthly. Failure to do this will result in area boys beating the defiant blogger up.

4. All male bloggers are required to give Madam Interviewee Vera a foot rub and a back massage once a month. Please email your schedule to her immediately.

5. All female bloggers are required to come & wash Madam Interviewee Vera's plates, underwears, and bras once a month. Please email your schedule to her immediately.

6. All bloggers are required to send a text to Madam Interviewee Vera's phone once a month. The text must read: "I love you, Madam Interviewee Vera. You're the most beautiful woman in the world. What will I ever do without you?" To which Madam Interviewee Vera will respond, "Nothing, of course."

7. All bloggers are required to do a Tribute to Madam Interviewee Vera post once a month. This tribute will discuss all the wonderful things about Madam Interviewee Vera, and how Blogville is nothing without her.

8. After much deliberation, Madam Interviewee Vera has decided that Blogger/Blogspot will no longer be a free service. There will now be a payment of $50 per month. All cash, money orders, and checks should be mailed to Madam Interviewee Vera's P. O. BOX.

9. A 2010 Range Rover is no longer sufficient for Madam Interviewee Vera. It just doesn't quite befit her status. Madam Interviewee Vera is now requesting a 2011 Range Rover instead. Black exterior, leather interior, and semi-tinted windows.

10. Finally, all male bloggers are required to propose to Madam Interviewee Vera with an engagement ring that costs at least $5000. And all female bloggers must ooh and ahh during each proposal.

***As much as Madam Interviewee Vera would like to accept all the proposals, the fact is that she will be overwhelmed. She may not say yes to marriage, but she will take the ring, and then there will be a no-wedding wedding (a wedding celebrating the non-existence of a wedding).

Rules for the no-wedding wedding.

1. All bloggers and commentors must attend.

2. Each guest must arrive in their own Limousine - rented and paid for by the guest.

3. Each female guest must buy the asebi lace ($650 for five yards), matching scarf ($80), and Italian shoes & bag ($1000).

4. All asebi laces will be designed by Vera Wang herself. No exceptions.

5. No male blogger/commentor is allowed to come with a date. I will be everyone's date - whether they want me to be or not.

6. Each guest must come with a gift. I will set up my registry very soon.

7. Finally, each guest must come with at least $200 to throw on me while I'm dancing. No one is allowed to throw money on anyone else - not even on themselves. I will have a mobile ATM hanging on me too, so that people can slide their card and punch in the desired amount they want to throw on me. That way, no1 will have the excuse of not having enough change.

Shikena!!!

Oh yeah, check out this new blogger. Show her some love, please. She's Nouveau Afrique.

Sooooo....9ice Was In Maryland

9ice came to Maryland to perform on Friday night. I'm not clear on who the promoters of the event were, but I feel as though they owe me some change. The ad/flyer said the thing would start at 9pm @ this nice banquet hall (where Busola got married last year) called Potter's Place. I went with Funmi, and Potter's Place is not close to either one of us, especially me. I picked Funmi up, and we got there at about 9:30 thinking we wouldn't find parking. Potter's Place is a really nice hall, but the parking can make a person homicidal. But to our shock, the parking lot was almost empty. We got a terrific parking spot! Sure, I loved the parking I got, but why was it so easy? I was starting to think they had pulled a P-Square on us (abi was it Styl-Plus?). There was a time that either P-Square or Styl-Plus was supposed to perform but didn't show due to the lack of a visa or some story like that.

So in we went (or attempted to go). There were security guards @ the door that told us the rules of the game. No chewing gum (In your mouth or in your purse, so Funmi had to spit her gum out, which I didn't mind anyway cos she's always chewing gum. Soooo annoying!!). No cigarette lighters (Okay, I didn't mind. I'm not a smoker; I didn't have a lighter on me anyway). No cameras (Say what??!! No cameras ke? After paying my $35 ticket to see 9ice performing, you're telling me no cameras?????? U gotta be kiddin me!). So the female security guard, very nice lady apologized and said she didn't make the rules; she was only adhering to what she was told. Right in front of us, she asked the people inside, and yes, they really did not want any cameras inside. Very well then. So Funmi and I walked back to the car, took some shots of ourselves, left the camera in the trunk and came back. Our bags were searched, our bodies were legally fondled in the name of being patted down, and then we entered. There were like what.... 20 people in there???

Funmi asked the ticket lady why we couldn't bring in our cameras. She said it was "because of the way Nigerians act." Whatever the heck that meant. They shoulda thought about that b4 organizing an event for Nigerians....yes? But she told us not to worry because there was a photographer inside who was taking pictures. Well, whoop-tee-doo! She said it as if the photographer was going to be @ my beck & call. Nonsense. Was he going to be taking pix of me & my friend? I think not! The DJ was doing something. He called it spinning tunes. I called it driving-Vera-up-the-wall. He played the good songs for like a minute, and the nonsense songs were there 4ever!! He wasn't totally bad though. At some point he was good - right before he went back to being bad. Little by little, people began to trickle into the hall.

Ramsey Noah was there again (NOTE to Naapali: Ramsey Noah is one of Naija's biggest Nollywood actors. Go thru the album of this event & you'll see his picture there). He was in the "VIP" section. I saw some gal taking pictures with him. That was when I decided to go outside and sneak my camera in. Alas, I somehow went past security without being searched...and voila, camera came in! And about that "VIP" section, it was a JOKE! Do you know what separated us from VIP? Tables. That's right. Long tables were used as barricades from wall to wall....as if we couldn't go beneath or above the tables. *hisses* By the way, it cost $130 to get into VIP. lol. I laugh in Russian. They kid me. Unlike us (the regular, coach class folks), the "VIP" section had tables and wine. Anyway, Ramsey waited, sotey the boy's yellow face began to turn pink. Okay, I lie. It was dark in there; I couldn't tell if his face was pink, but I suspect it was. He later left. The star just couldn't wait for the other star (9ice). By the way, people that knew people in the VIP section just kept getting into the VIP. Before we knew what was going on, the VIP section became as crowded as Ajegunle market.

Do you know what time they finally started? 12:45 AM!!! Yes, almost four hours later, they started. Some groups performed before 9ice. Can't remember the first group's name. The second group was Apexx, and then there was some guy Gucci Wally Wa (hope I have not mispelt this name). Apparently, he only wears gucci. Walahi, that's what he said. Anyways...the ladies seemed to love him. I just wanted 2 see 9ice. Gucci or Prada Wally Wally wasn't on my agenda. My anger wasn't that they were performing. My anger was that I had been there since 9:30 PM. As if the designers artist wasn't bad enough, a man with a talking drum began to play, and we were supposed to interprete what he was saying. What kinda nonsense is that?! Some gal - God bless her ignorant heart - took the mic and actually said, "Common people, I know you all understand Yoruba." If looks could kill.... or @ least make people lose a few teeth and maybe swallow their tongue.... well, you know where I'm going with this. Some people there were not even Nigerians. Someone needz 2 tell home girl that Yoruba is not a universal African language.

9ice finally came out. My people, I dunno how it happened, but somehow the VIP section ceased to exist. We (the coach class folks) took over! We raided the place. One minute, I was behind the barricade; the next minute, I was in front, almost on stage. lol. Everyone raced to the front. Camera flashes were going off everywhere...so much for not having cameras in there. 9ice's performance was nothing less than I expected. He was very lively. In fact, he exceeded my expectations, and I went in having very high expectations. Girls were pushing each other left, right, and center to be on stage with 9ice. I wasn't on stage with 9ice. I just wanted to go close enough to take a good pic. But what surprised me was that guys sef were fighting to be on stage. Nawa ooo! lol. Wetin we go call this one now? Could this be love? lol.

I went to the other side of the stage to take a picture with fellow blogger Toni Payne (who also happens to be 9ice's beaurriful wifey). Ramsey Noah came back when 9ice started performing and I took a pic with him again ....although I really wished it was Barack Obama (or at least Chidi Mokeme) standing in his place. The event was over @ about 3:30 AM, I think. I wish I could blog about how I sold my dignity for Funmi's sake, but I realize this blog has more readers than the comments may reflect. So I refuse to implicate myself!!

Whew! That was a long post sha. Sorry. I guess I shoulda given you a long-post alert @ the beginning. I really don't like giving you long posts, so please bear with me. I'll compensate by showing you some pictures from the event. Click HERE to view them. I also put descriptions on all the pics to help you understand what was going on. By the way, please read my new write-up The First Impression. Thanx!!!

Have You Heard?

That on Sunday, October 19th 2008, I rededicated my life to Christ? I went to House of Praise's dedication of their new church, and their General Overseer, Pastor Adeboye was there. Boy, am I glad I went! Pastor Adeboye preached about uncommon favor and uncommon success, and he talked about how one will flourish and succeed extraordinarily when God is with him. On the flip side, when God isn't with you...well, you know the rest. One passage from the bible resonated with me. Ps 127:1-2 "Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain. In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat - for He grants sleep to those He loves."

Now, let me explain why I said I rededicated my life to Christ (instead of just saying I dedicated it). It is because I don dedicate my life tire!! Honestly, almost each chance I get, I rededicate my life to Christ. Sometimes, it's face to face (in church, or @ a revival/vigil type thing), sometimes it's while watching a pastor (like Pastor Joel Osteen preaching), sometimes, it's on the radio while listening to 95.1. I think I have even considered doing it after reading a letter from Franklin Graham!! One thing has been constant in all my attempts: I keep going back to the same ol' me.

So why do I keep trying? Twice in my life, I was very serious with God, and honestly, those were the best times of my life. When I was about 13, I gave my life to Christ. I used to attend revivals and everything with my cousin. It was great! I even used to sing some solo songs for them, and they used to praise my voice. By the way, my cousin was in the university then, so this Christian community was pretty much her fellow students, but they were on fire for God. They loved the Man passionately. Anyway, looking back on it now, I see they lied to me! I cannot carry a note to save my life, yet every Friday night, they let me belch out those lyrics with beautiful smiles plastered across their faces. They even talked of me releasing an album. Kai. Those uni students no do me well @ all. I remember one guy (can't remember his name now) who told me God wanted to use me in my generation. I never forgot that. I have often wondered when, where, how, and WHY God will wanna use me.

But then I fell off the wagon. And when I was about 16, I became close to Him again. It was great. I used to read my Bible, pray every night and morning, and it was just great. I don't know what happened, when it happened, or why it happened, but I was right back to square one. Since then, I have been playing catch-me-if-you-can with God, deceiving myself really. I keep going back because I am never truly happy or complete or satisfied when I am not where He is. So I am back again, but this time, with more determination. A lady in church said a good place to start reading the Bible is in the book of John. Phew! I wish someone woulda told me that sooner!! No offense to you, oh dear Father, but that book of Genesis ehn, e get as e be oh. I have read from the book of Genesis to the book of Deuteronomy, and so far, all I remember is that God made the world in seven days, Adam was the first man, Eve was the first woman, and they ate the forbidden fruit. Ko easy @ all to read it.

I started reading the book of John, and the feeling has been different. It was a pleasure reading it. I'm not gonna overwhelm myself. I'm gonna take it one day @ a time. I'm making this public, because when you make such public comittments, it usually makes you less likely or more afraid of breaking them off. Of course, as we have come to find out, this does not apply to marriage. People are usually happier at the time of their divorce than they are at their wedding. On a side note: how come no1 gets cold feet for divorces?? Anyway...

I shouted so many 'Amens' in church that my voice is now suffering a little. Naija people sabi claim blessing oh. Na so so blessing Pastor Adeboye take dey slap our face that day. The thing nyafu nyafu everywhere, but I was not complaining. I kuku claimed them all in Jesus' name. Why shall I shy? I thought Pastor Adeboye would say, "There is a girl in this room who has been dreaming of a black, semi tinted 2010 range rover. The Lord wants you to know that when you go home today, that range rover will be parked outside, waiting for you - all expenses paid!" I for just run go dance naked outside. Ah, I am serving a living God...the God that answereth by black, semi tinted 2010 Range Rovers!!

Needless to say, I didn't get my range rover. My corolla was not mysteriously replaced by a range rover. And no disturbingly handsome man was sitting on my hood waiting for me. However, Ireti did blatantly refuse to follow her family home; she wanted to follow me instead. Could this have been part of the uncommon favor? I said thank you, Jesus, but how I fit manage this kin favor...especially in this time of austerity? Mba o. Na so I just package the girl go give am back to her people. She cried her cute, little eyes out. On a serious note, I really did rededicate my life back to Christ, and I have begged Him to not let me go. I have begged Him to hold me tight because I really, really, really wanna walk this walk with Him.

Now that you're done reading this and congratulating and encouraging me (aka commenting), go over to Standtall's blog, and read my interview. Happy reading!!! And thanks again for the interview, Babe.

Oops! I Did It Again!

First of all, I apologize for the long silence. I have been feeling mighty uneasy. It's been quite a while since I stayed this long without updating. I will try my best to not let it ever happen again. It's shameful! That being said, I credit my inability to update on the little human being that spent the weekend with me. Her name is Ireti (Funmi's little darling).



On Friday, I went to Funmi's house to chill. Before I left, Funmi was getting ready to attend Pastor Adeboye's vigil. I couldn't make it. Ireti was not cooperating with Funmi. She refused to wear her clothes, refused to wear her shoes, and even took off her underwear - a move I was very troubled by. She's only three years old; it's a little early to be going commando...don't you think? lol. Eventually, she agreed to put on her underwear, but I think she wanted to wear the underwear on top of her pantyhose. Let's say she's not fashion-conscious yet.


To cut the long story short, I ended up going home with her that night. Looking @ the gorgeous gal in my house, I could not resist the urge to dress her up, paint her face, and take a few shots. So that is how Ireti ended up looking like that. She's absolutely gorgeous...don't you think? The outfit does not belong to her. In fact, nothing you see on her belongs to her. They all belong to me. When I decide to use any of the jewelry, I'm wondering if people will start looking @ me and wondering if I have no shame....you know, with borrowing jewelry from a three year old et al.



There are plenty more interesting pictures, including one where she was reading - or looked like she was reading, Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Needless to say, Ireti was with me till Sunday and refused to go back to her people. Her mother (Funmi is not her mother by the way) said I could keep her till Monday - a generous offer that I generously refused to take. I just couldn't see myself waking up so early to give a three year old a shower, prepare lunch for her, and then take her to school. Kai. That one too much 4 me abeg.



There were a total of 83 pictures, but I only uploaded 32 for your viewing pleasure. Click HERE to view them all. The album is the most recent album on top of the page. Happy viewing!! Oh, I should explain the reason for the title of this blog is because this is not the first time I have done this to Ireti.

By the way, Standtall will be interviewing me on her blog on Thursday....yay!!! I'll be signing autographs afterwards. Each autogragh will cost a little fee of one 2008 Range Rover. :)

My Fat Check

Do you sell your books @ the end of the semester? I sell mine depending on the subject. Sometimes, I just know or think I know I'll never use the book again. So last semester, I went to Book Holders and attempted to sell a Research textbook to them. They were going to buy it for an amount I don't recall right now. I think it was $80, but then the girl said they could either pay me $80 right there and then, or they could take the book from me and sell it online at a higher price of $120, and then mail me the check. Honestly, I didn't care too much for how much I got for the book. I didn't pay a dime for the book (it was bought for me), and it was pretty useless to me throughout the semester. But what do you think I opted to do? Of course, I opted to have the book sold online. The more money, the merrier!

I filled out a form and left the book there. I had forgotten about the book when I received an email some months later saying that due to an over supply and a lack of demand of the book (no wonder there; it was a useless) on the market, they would have to reduce the amount they originally promised to sell it. I was given an option to come and pick my book up if I did not want it to be sold at a lower price. I didn't go and pick the book up. What was I going to do with it?

Two days ago, I received an email from Book Holders telling me that they know I'm "excited to receive that fat check". Considering the fact that lately, I have been spending way more than I care to remember, I was so happy to receive Book Holder's email. So how much was the check?

$8.61

I cannot help but wonder if my greed did not put me in this condition. Really, I could have, should have taken the $80 I was offered initially. I now await my fat check of $8.61 in the mail. The sad part is....I will cash it!! I must be rich in Jesus' name. *Raising a glass of mango-guava beverage to that*

Blogger I'd Most Like To Meet: Vera

Lemme rewind to that moment.

I started this blog in January 2006, and at that time, I knew only one other Naija blogger. She has since stopped blogging. I don't even remember her name and/or her blog. In 2006, I blog tire oh!! I blogged my heart out. More than half of my entire blog posts were done in 2006. You can say it was a very good year for me - Blogville wise. I met a lotta bloggers too (virtually, that is).

Anyway, TaureanMinx (who has disappeared off the face of Blogville along with many of my former Blogville colleagues) and Azuka came up with the Blogville Awards (which was a very good idea, by the way). The categories were listed on Tminx's blog, and people - bloggers and anonymous people alike got a chance to vote. I was kinda-sorta-new-but-not-really, so I didn't vote (I think). In fact, I didn't really follow that voting thing (I'm thinking). Imagine my pleasant surprise when I found out that I had won the category of Blogger I'd Most Like To Meet. I happy no be small oh. I was elated!!

So why am I bringing this up now??? I mean, it's been what...two years??? Well, I need a favor. Actually, I need two. And they both require me meeting you...or you meeting me - however this works.

Favor Number 1: I'm taking a class. It's called Psychology of Human Sexuality. It's been interesting. I have to do an observation where I watch human interaction...blah blah blah. Be still, oh beating heart of my reader. I am not proposing that you have sex with someone while I watch - unless you insist, of course. And no, you don't have to have sex with me either. Instead, I'm gonna be going to a strip club for guys (as in where women strip) to watch. I've never been into any kind of strip club, so this should be an interesting experience. I'm not quite sure what to expect, but I will go there with an open heart...(is that possible?). My professor and the rest of my classmates insist that I take a guy for my safety. And therein, lies the problem: who to take??? If you're up for the challenge, let me know. Of course, you'll have to be in the general vicinity of Baltimore, Maryland.

Favor Number 2: I cannot give details here because it's a secret...even Funmi doesn't know. But what I do know is that she will be calling me as soon as she reads this. Note to Funmi: Don't bother asking; I won't tell. For this favor, we'll also have to meet. If you think you might be interested, let me know. When you contact me, I will discuss the details with you. I can probably find someone without advertising this on my blog, but I figured I might as well make use of that two year old award (logo) of mine. LOL.


P.S. That Blogger Award thing was really fun. Someone (meaning anyone other than me) should try it this year. You can view the results on Tminx's page HERE. You should read the comments too. Very funny. LOL.

This Delivery Man Sha...

This delivery man wants to start delivering more than packages oh. Everyday he comes, he makes it a point to compliment my alleged beauty (yes, I said alleged). At first, I thought he was just being a gentleman, but this one don pass my power oh. He always says, "Oh, you're so beautiful," or "God, your eyes are so beautiful." All this time, I've just been smiling like a fool and saying, "thank you," exposing all my teeth.

On Tuesday, he came to deliver a package as usual. I was on the phone with my friend, Dee, so I told her that I'll call her back. He said, "Yeah, get off the phone, baby cause you know I want your full attention." Like a fool, I smiled. In fact, I laughed sef. Gosh, I can be so slow sometimes. lol. I collected the package and signed for it.

As usual, the man started talking about what lovely eyes I had and how beautiful I was. I was not fazed by this. I mean, this was pretty standard for us. Next thing, the man said, "I love a lady with beautiful eyes. When you're making love to a lady with beautiful eyes and she looks at you, it just makes you wanna keep going..." And then he grunted before he continued with so much confidence, "You have such pretty eyes."

Tufia kwa!!! Mr. Delivery Man, I rebuke you!!! Making love to who? God forbid!!! See, warn this man oh. Who gave him the right to be picturing making love to me in his head? *Vera spitting, irritation almost choking her* I can charge this man with mental rape oh (abi isn't that a legitimate charge?). To add, insult to injury, he touched my ringless finger and said, "And I see you ain't got a ring on neither." (darn Ebonics). I just jejely snatched my hand away from his reach. What does the ringlessness of my finger have to do with him? Kai!! You see how 'singleness' is insulting me? lol.

I think I was so shocked by the man's statements that I could not even react. I was caught off guard. Not that it matters, but the man doesn't work for USPS (United States Postal Service). He works for another postal service that I will not mention, and he's African American.

This guy's actions are making me look @ the other delivery guy some kind of way. That one is White and works for a different delivery service too. Even though he doesn't need to bring the mails in, he still does - something I assume he's doing out of niceness. Am I being naïve? He brings the mails in, and then he asks me how my day is going, blah blah blah. I think I need to start having my pepper spray handy. LOL. I can't have people making love to me in their mind all willy nilly....and even having the guts to stare into my eyes while doing it!!!

Temite, where do I get that taser we talked about?

Err...Don't Really Have A Title

If anyone can tell me what that psychopath by the left who calls herself Funmi is doing, then please do. If you ask her, she'll say she was dancing - yahoozeeing to be precise, but if you ask me, I'll say she had one too many whatever-she-was drinking. I guess it's not too bad since her dimple looks so pweety. That's the only good thing about the yeye gal. Oh, and her culinary skills too. Other than that.... *hiss* The past week & weekend has been so busy for me, hence the lack of an update. All I wanna do right now is close my eyes and sleep, but duty calls. On Saturday, we hosted a beautiful surprise baby shower for a dear friend, Y. We had mad fun. I mean, how many times do you attend a baby shower where there is a DJ and an after-party? lol. So yeah, you can say we had a lotta fun. I took lotsa pics. After I deleted the unnecessary and blurry ones, I was left with 250. I uploaded 28 of them for your viewing pleasure. Now, b4 any1 starts asking questions, lemme respond... No, I am not the one on the home page of my photo collections page. That's Uju & her nephew. I didn't even put the pictures there; the website automatically put them. And no, I am not in any of the pictures you're about to view from the shower...sorry. Just click on the most recent album, which is the one on top. Anyway, click HERE to view the pics.





Mom drove my car to work the other day because she was running late and didn't have time to stop by the gas station to put gas in her car. The next day, I went out with my car. Time to come down from the car and I realized the damage the woman had done. Chei. And she didn't even bother telling me. Maybe she thought I wouldn't notice? lol. So now, every time I wanna get outta the car, I have to wind down the window to open the door. This reminds of the molues in Naija. Haba, I'm too fine 4 this oo! What if I attend a posh party where there is valet parking? Wait, what if there are fine boys outside the parry and they see me getting outta my car in that manner?? That na scandal o. Chai!! Mommy, you no do me well @ all. It has been very inconvenient, as you can imagine because I keep forgetting that the door handle is bad. I turn off the car, attempt to get out, and then realize I have to start the car again to wind the window down. Ah, I will be rich in Jesus name. Shebi money is doing shakara 4 me now abi? lol. Anyway, I will try & fix it by this weekend. When I asked my mom about it, she gave the classical Naija response to everything, "It was the devil."


Come Friday, I may or may not be attending the African Bankers Award. I have never attended it before; in fact, I had never heard of it before now, but I was invited by the publisher of Kitu Kizuri Magazine. Why do I feel like this is one of her attempts to hook me up with an eligible bachelor? lol. She has been telling me to "get out there and meet new people". I've been meeting new people ooo! Look @ all the new bloggers I have discovered lately. lol.



Speaking of meeting new people, I met Ramsey Noah on Thursday. He was pretty cool. I took a picture with him. You can see it on my camera *sticking tongue out* I'll update in two or three days.

Time Changes Things

Sometimes, you have such a deep connection with someone that you swear that nothing can ever, ever change it. Not even time. You think that out of sight is not out of mind, but sadly, it is. Or at least, it can be. I know I can testify to that.

I don't remember how old I was when I met C, but I know that we had a kind of connection that was uncanny. I thought nothing could ever, ever separate us. We were so intimate. I knew C like the back of my hands. I used to see C almost every morning and night; we were inseparable. I was pretty sure that C and I were going to be together forever.

But life happened. Life came and changed things, changed our plans, restructured what we thought was going to be our future.

For eight long years, there was no communication between me and C. I never forgot C, of course. There are some people that you never forget, but I just figured that distance was like a temporary thing, you know. I figured that once we reunited, we were going to pick up right where we left off like nothing ever happened. Like we didn't miss 8 years. Like I didn't grow up. Like I didn't change. Or like C didn't change. How wrong I was.

I ran into C at the African Store the other day. Imagine my elation. I thought to myself, 'this must be fate!!' After 8 long years, I have run into C again? I was determined to not let C go. But to my disappointment, what we had was not there anymore. It seemed to have dissipated. I had changed, and so had C. We were no longer the C and Vera of eight years ago. Even if C hadn't changed, I definitely had. I had experienced new things, new people, a new culture, a new way of life. Things that used to come easily to me before were now foreign. Being with C felt so new - not the exciting kind of new, but rather, the unfamiliar kind of new. Everything about our union was so shaky and precarious. The way I touched C even, I did it with so much trepidation, like I was afraid of what will happen. It was just so unnatural.

It is with sadness that I have come to the heart-breaking admission: I AM NO LONGER A PRO @ MAKING CUSTARD!! I had not had custard for 8 long years; I finally saw it at the African store, bought it, took it home, but have not been able to make a decent bowl since then. Something is always wrong with it. Too thick. Too watery. Full of those little balls that nauseate me. Goodness, what happened???!!! I used to be the Custard Queen. It just goes to show how fast things change in life.

Oh, Dear Custard, what happened to our love?

Update: I forgot to say Happy Independence Day. Here's a joke a friend just sent to me via text: when you find your life in darkness, pray to God for deliverance. If after praying you are still in darkness, pay your NEPA bill.

God Bless Naija!!! Happy Independence Day!!!

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.

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.