I Think I'm Married...

.... to my Mother!!!

Lately, Mom and I have been having couple fights. I've been trying to ignore them, but I cannot ignore then anymore. At this point, we just need to decide who will be the man between us. Mom has the bigger breasts. I have the bigger butt. Hmmph. This is not gonna be an easy decision.

Yesterday, she had a score to settle with me. I was about to leave the house in the morning when she decided to tell me what I had done.

Mom: I need to talk to you.

Me: Uh oh. What did I do?

Mom: There's something you've been doing lately that I don't like.

Me: What is it?

Mom: Why is it that every time you use the toothpaste, you don't cover it back? You did it with the last toothpaste and I didn't say anything. Now, I have bought a new one, and you're doing the same thing again. Why?

Me: Uhm...

Mom: Let this be the first and last time you ever do it again. (Why say "let this be the first and last time..." when we know this wasn't the first, and probably won't be the last either).

Me: I'm sorry, Mom. Didn't know I was leaving the toothpaste open.

Nawa ooo! This our relationship sha... What next? I'm squeezing the toothpaste from the middle instead of the bottom?? Well, I've got a few complaints of my own (although I did not bother to list them to Mom. She might have rewarded me with a classical Nigerian back-handed slap. I'm not too old to receive a slap from my Mom).

Complaints: Mom leaves her magazines littered all over the living room - even though she knows she's done with them. Why not just put them in the trash as soon as she's done? She's always printing something - whether it's one page or one hundred pages. They are always crap to me. When the trash can is three-quarter full, I'm ready to take it out. Mom, on the other hand, will keep putting stuff in it until it becomes too heavy for me to carry out. I'm not a weight lifter.

She's always jamming the shredder. I keep telling her not to put so many papers in it. If she buys one more Obama magazine, we're gonna have a problem. She does not put enough pepper in her food. She says I eat too much pepper like Yoruba people, and one day, all my front and side hairs will fall off like Yoruba people. Mom's theory of the correlation between pepper and scanty hair remains to be proven. Funmi's and Busola's hair is full. Come to think of it, Funmi's and Busola's hair is chopping in front and on the sides. Hmmmm. Could Mom be right?

Last but not least, can somebori please tell my Mom that a du-rag is not a scarf. A scarf is not a du-rag! If I catch that woman wearing a du-rag outside one more time, there is no telling what I will be compelled to do to her and the du-rag. I can't have my Mom looking all gangster when she's outside. What next?? She'll soon start blasting rap from her speakers and smoking blunts as she drives. Oh, LORD!!!

There are many other complaints, but these will have to suffice for now. Meanwhile, I have to find us a divorce lawyer because with the way things are going, we're headed straight for divorce court!

P.S. Don't forget Verastically Speakin' airs on Saturday (July 25th) @ 10:00 AM U.S. EST/3:00 PM Naija time. We'll be talking about the importance (or lack of importance) of the size of certain body parts. Yum! To listen to it on Saturday, just click HERE (or call 1-646-929-1905 to listen in and/or join the conversation).

That Reminds Me...

In April, I blogged about my fake engagement to Mr. Shoes, and the comments were so numerous that they almost broke down my blog. But what struck me was that some people said they didn't fall for the lie because the ring just wasn't big enough for me. Seriously...???

I bring this up now because this past Saturday (July 18th) was hawt on the Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio as we battled over the price and size of an engagement ring. In spite of having 90 minutes dedicated to the show, we still ran out of time. I apologize to Leggy, Chayoma, and Bumight for not having read their mails. And to think that I even printed them out. :-(

The call volume was so high that by the time the show was over, I still had so many callers on cue whose calls I could not take. For that, I am also sincerely sorry. The people in the chat room seemed to also be chatting so psychedelically that the darn chat room had to have a psychedelic break down and log us all out. For that, I am also sorry. If you haven't listened to the show, you can listen to it from my blog by clicking on it. The player is on the right sidebar.

So back to the engagement ring: ehm... exactly how big do you think I want this ring? I think I may have given people the impression that I want the kind of rock that would reflect sunlight into Planet Mars. The size of the rock on the ring below isn't bad, but it's fake. Alright fine, maybe it's a little bit on the small side, but it isn't entirely bad.

To prove how totally not-into-the-size-and-cost-of-a-ring I am, I went to Tacori dot com, a website I have always loved and admired. Without first looking at the prices, I picked rings based on their style alone (thin, platinum band, not a queer-shaped diamond, etc) - not knowing the cost. I will prove to these people that I am sooooo not too crazy about the cost. I just want it to be my style!

Price of first ring: $6, 300 (Hmm....)

Price of second ring: $6, 600 (Double hmm...)

Price of third ring: $3, 530 (Aha!! Didn't I tell them I'm understanding...?)

Price of fourth ring: $5, 500 (I was doing good in the third ring; what happened?)

Price of fifth ring: $10, 740 (I give up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Well, you know what? Screw it!! What does Tacori know about me? I don't even like their rings anyway!!! ***Nose growing longer, swallowing big gulp of spit***

I had already started linking the rings to their pictures on the web for you to see how nice and simple they look, but I thought better of it. It won't be difficult for this post to be misconstrued. I really don't think a man should spend three months of his salary on a ring because that would be a lotttt of money (unless he has nothing else to do with the money). But I do solemnly believe that a man should know his woman's style and buy the best [of her style] that he can afford. Shikena. If you're going to do it, you might as well do it well.

That said, I'm very grateful to everyone who listened, called in (especially the international callers), e-mailed, and chatted away in the chat room. Thank you to those who tweeted and Facebooked too. If I had the money, I'd go Oprah on you all, and buy each of you a car. But for now, I do hope that my sincere gratitude suffices.

Next week Saturday, July 25th 2009 10:00 AM US EST/3:00 PM Naija time, we'll talking about the importance - or lack of importance - of your partner's weight, height, and size of certain body parts. There's a poll on the right sidebar. Help your sister out. And tune in on that day. Go HERE to set a reminder for the show.

Chei. But that my engagement to Mr. Shoes was hawt oo. I almost forgot it didn't happen sef. Hehehe.

They Tried To Get Me

Yesterday, I was talking to mom on the phone, and she told me that there was a package waiting for me. I told her to just leave it in my room. I was sure it was the card I ordered from Shutterfly. Anyway I came home expecting to find an envelop, but found a big box instead. Imagine my shock! I was thinking, "Chineke God! Shutterfly has screwed up and sent me a thousand cards instead of one. Major overdraft fees are coming my way..."

But the box wasn't from Shutterfly. In fact, the instructions on the box were perplexing, funny, and intriguing all at once. Close and lock door ke? Hide behind huge furniture? Quietly open box? This thing better not be a bomb ooo! They want me to lock the door so that no one will find my remains abi? They have failed!!! I will open this box in the public of igwe mmadu.

Contents may disappear immediately???????? To where? Why will they disappear? Oh, I see. These people have sent me juju. Why else will it disappear? And the box even says it's perishable. Aha... the juju has expiration date. My enemies. They have failed!! They will never get me. As soon as I open the box, I will seize whatever is inside and stop is from disappearing.

Hmmm! These people are funny ooo! See how they wrapped the juju bomb in a nice box. They even had the audacity to call it "the unforgettable gift." You don't say?!?!?! You people want to bomb me with this finely-wrapped juju. But today is not your day. I have caught up to you.

Aaaahhhhh!!! Chocolate-covered strawberries???????? Oh, my!! I have never seen juju bombs that look so beautiful.... so attractive.... so harmless.... and oh, so darn edible! These chocolate-covered strawberries have to be my friends. They must like me. Nothing this beautiful is harmful.

My people, don't blame me oh. I have never received this kind of posh gift before. 12 whole strawberries coated in what looks like only the finest chocolate, all for me??? I have done nothing to deserve this. Really, I haven't. Like I said, I am not used to receiving stuff like this. So yes, I was pleasantly surprised. Thank God it wasn't juju bomb as I thought.

Bet you wanna know where they came from, huh? Our very own blogger, Sweet Nothin sent them! Why? Well, it's obvious, isn't it? She wants me. Well, she claims it's because she couldn't make it to be my co-host on Saturday as planned. She was supposed to be cohosting with me for the Second Time Around show talking about dating exes, but her dad wasn't feeling fine. My people, how was that her fault? So you see why I have concluded that she just wants me?

I have learnt one thing from this experience: Funmi, Busola, Uju, Dee, and all of you do NOT appreciate me enough. When was the last time you sent me chocolate-covered strawberries? A change has come, my people. From now on, I demand a box of chocolate-covered strawberries everyday of my life. Sure, I might not be able to fit into my clothes after one week, but at least, I'll have my yummy chocolate-covered strawberries. There is only one regret from this chocolate-covered strawberries: Sweet Nothin is not a dude. Oh, the possibilities! She has stolen my heart ooo.

Oh, ye chocolate-covered strawberries.... HOW I LOVE THEE.

P.S. Verastically Speakin Talk Radio will be airing again this Saturday @ 10:00 AM Est (3:00 PM Naija time). We'll be talking about how important the size of engagement rings are. I will be co-hosting with Ezenwanyi. Yes, she's Igbo. Yes, I'm Igbo too. Yes, you might walk away from the show thinking, "All these Igbo girls are nothing but a bunch of gold-diggers..." but hey... do tune in! The left sidebar has the schedule of all upcoming talk shows. Please send me e-mails if you have any contributions. radio@verastic.com. Thank you, darlings!

P.P.S. Joe from Montana, eye opener and truth sayer, thank you soooo much for calling in on Saturday. If you read this post, please e-mail me!! :-) radio@verastic.com

Dear Mr. Shoes

Happy birthday.

This is the first post of its kind on my blog, so I'm not even quite sure where or how to start. But I have to start somehow and somewhere, right? Well, first and foremost, I am grateful to God for letting you see this day. Not everyone has lived to be XX. But you, my dear, by the favor and grace of God, you are alive and well today.

As you celebrate this day, I pray that you are blessed and favored with everything you have ever wanted. May you be blessed like Isaac. He sowed in the time famine and reaped a hundred folds. May you be blessed like Jacob. He held unto the Lord and the Lord blessed him. May you be blessed like Joseph. In spite of being betrayed and sold into slavery by his brothers, he rose above them - literally.

Permit me to switch from talking to you to talking about you...

I am very grateful to God for granting me the opportunity to know Mr. Shoes (although it's his pleasure, of course). What started as a uhm.... has blossomed into a uhm... I don't even know what words to use here. Per the blessings above, did anyone notice that all the blessings were culled from people in the book of Genesis? That's because I just started reading my bible from the beginning again, and I am still on Genesis. To be more precise, I am still reading about Joseph in fact. Did anyone else cry when Portiphar put him in jail for a crime he did not commit? But I digress...

I want to list character traits about Mr. Shoes, but I feel like I'll be talking writing too much. I want to put up a picture of him, but.... who am I kidding? I don't wanna put up a picture of him. What I want to do is get my butt into bed. No, no... Mr. Shoes isn't on the bed. But before I go to bed, here are a few more wishes for Mr. Shoes.

• I wish for him to be prosperous in everything he does. I wish for him to be very rich, so he can buy me all the suya I want.
• I wish for Mr. Shoes to have long life and prosperity.
• I wish for Mr. Shoes to never be far away from me.
• Last but not least, I wish for Mr. Shoes to be extremely addicted to me, the kind of addiction that can never and will never have a cure. Oh, the possibilities!!!

Mr. Shoes... I wish you the happiest birthday ever. I understand that this birthday is not exactly what you were hoping for, but you're alive and well, and that should count for a lot. So have a very happy birthday!

Randomisity

This is one totally random post. I have a bunch of little issues to discuss, and I don't feel like making each of them into individual posts.

Random Issue #1: Mr. Shoes. I might get in trouble for refering to him as a random issue. Hehe. But lemme tell you what he did - more like said. Honestly, I don't know what Mr. Shoes would do without me; thank God for me oh... because I'm teaching him things. Hehe. Can you believe that Mr. Shoes was under the impression that breast milk only comes out at certain times of the day? He was hoping it only comes out during the day, so that at night... well... :-). This breast milk conversation was inspired by my previous post.

Random Issue #2: What the heck is Badoo --- and why do people (real or virtual) keep leaving me messages on it? I keep receiving e-mails that say someone left me a message on Badoo. What the heck is that? Is that another social network? I guess I could take the time to google it, but I have more important things to think of right now.

Random Issue #3: My template --- I'm changing it again. Yeap. So I thought I liked it, but it turns out I don't. I'm a white-background chic. This whatever-color-we'll-this color is not working for me at all. I have tried to like it, but I don't see myself liking it too much. Doesn't help that Mr. Shoes doesn't particularly care for it either. I can do a black background, but that's as far as I'm willing to go, and I'd rather not do the black background because it's not too easy on the eyes. I'll work on the template this weekend.

Random Issue #4: Oh, Range Rover Sport... where art thou? People, I don't know what to do about my obsession with the Range Rover Sport. I spot the vehicle from a mile away. I stare at it every time I see it. I go as close as I can to it. Sometimes, I touch someone's parked Range Rover Sport. Is there a way for me to get a FREE Range Rover Sport?? If you're going to suggest that I buy a Range Rover Sport, then scratch that idea. As I type this right now, I have about $100 to my name - probably not enough to change the oil. I kid you not! All you wealthy people out there, save me from my misery and give me a RANGE ROVER SPORT!!! Oprah, Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, the Walton family, Michael Bloomberg, and Donald Trump... where are you? I need a Range Rover Sport now now now!!!!!!!!!!!!

Random Issue #5: Bloggers! Did I tell you that I hooked up with three bloggers? Yes, ke. I hooked up with Nefertiti, Bumight, and Aloted. Jealous? Ah, yes of course, you are. We took a picture. I'll be happy to share it with you. But first, you must read 'Random Issue #4" and give me my heart's desire. *wink, wink* Oh, I also met YankeeNaijaBabe whose blog I just realized is private. When did this happen? Has it always been private?

Random Issue #6: Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio will be airing in about 9.5 hours - 10:00 AM U.S. Eastern time (3:00 PM Naija time). We'll be talking about dating exes. Beautiful Nana will be co-hosting with me. Make sure you tune in/call in! There's still time for last minute e-mails on today's show. Here's the direct link to today's show online. E-mail radio@verastic.com if you have any contributions and/or questions (even if it's not for today's show). Please check out the schedule for the show on the right sidebar and participate. Help a sister out! Thank you, darlings!

For All You Breast-Owning People...

Let no one say, "Vera never offers us anything good." Hear ye, hear ye!!

Uju is in med school. Did you know that? There are some perks to having a friend in med school: She teaches me stuff. I am guaranteed of free medical care for the rest of my life (after she graduates, of course). She even offers me free surgeries. Ah, yes... she has offered me a free mastectomy courtesy of Youtube. Whoever said YouTube is useless? I'll get to the reason why she's offered me a free mastectomy later.

So apparently - according to Uju, the med student - for each child a woman has, she decreases her chances of having breast cancer by 7%. For each child she breast feeds for a year, she reduces her chances of having breast cancer by 4.3%. Sooooo.... let's assume that she breast feeds each child for one year. That means that for each child a woman has and breast feeds for a year, she decreases her chances of having breast cancer by 11.3%.

Ah! My people, it is SETTLED!!! 100% divided by 11.3% is 8.8495575 (8.85). Let's round that up to 9. So that means that if a woman has 9 children, she has completely erased her chances of ever having breast cancer. Very well then! And I thought there is no way to prevent breast cancer! Hear ye, hear ye.... having 9 children will erase your chances of having breast cancer.

The other option, which my med-student-friend was also quick to point out, is to have a mastectomy. [And that is why the nonentity offered me a free mastectomy courtesy of YouTube]. By having a mastectomy, a woman decreases her chances of having breast cancer by 90%. And that is if she cuts off both breasts ooo! Personally, I don't think it's worth it. Why cut off both breasts and still have a 10% risk when you can just have 9 children, breastfeed them, and have NO RISK???

Besides, at the rate of 11.3% per child, nine children actually equal 101.7% And considering the fact that I also intend to breastfeed hubby, that should count for another ---- I don't know --- 50%??? So you see, I'm good!!! Hear ye, hear ye.... save thy self!!

DISCLAIMER: Though the percentages are correct (according to the med student), this formula for breast cancer prevention has not been medically or scientifically tested and/or proven (to my knowledge). This formula, therefore, is simply Verastic. Try at your own risk.

P.S. Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio now has a regular time: Every Saturday @ 10:00 AM U.S Eastern (3:00 PM Naija time). All upcoming shows are on the sidebar on the right. Send e-mails for contributions. Answer the poll about dating exes. And please go to www.blogtalkradio.com/verastic to set reminders for any and all shows. Thank you, darlings!!

For The Shoes

On Saturday, the 20th of June 2009, Mr. Shoes and his family suffered a loss. They lost a wife and a mother. Mr. Shoes lost his mother. I tried several times before today to put this post up since the unfortunate incident, but each time I tried, my words failed me. I still feel like they're failing me right now, but I have to do this. It's taking too long already.

Over and over, I wondered, what do I say to Mr. Shoes? What does one say to a man who has lost the first woman he ever loved? 'Sorry?' 'I'm sorry?' I don't know what one says. I don't know what one should say. I don't know what I should have said, or what I should say now. If tears could wake the dead, she'd be back here right now.

It's sad how people's terms change when they pass on. I remember when my Uncle George passed six years ago. Suddenly, he stopped being 'George' and became 'the body' and 'the cargo.' Six years after his passing, I am still not over it. One can never really get over the loss of someone dear. I've had six years to mourn over it, and I'm still not done. The Shoes' family has had only two weeks.

Death is never convenient. Mommy Shoes' death was inconvenient. If she had left us three decades from now, her death will still be inconvenient, but maybe, just maybe we'd feel better if it were three decades later. She'd be a little older. A little wiser. A lot more experienced - with more grey hairs to tell tales of life lived, things seen, and things done. Maybe then I'd know what to say. Maybe then, my words will not fail me.

I am aware that God is the beginning and the end. The Alpha and Omega. I know that He is an all-knowing God, a God that never makes mistakes. But still I dare to wonder...why now and why her? Why her and why now? This is a question I know I will not get an answer to until I meet Him in Glory (when I am 114 years old).

To the Shoes family, I wish God's comfort in this trying time. I wish them the strength to bear this burden. I wish them peaceful sleep at night. And I pray that Mommy Shoes' memory brings comfort and peace to those she left behind.

To Mr. Shoes, once again my words fail me. I don't know what to say or how to say it. But whatever you need me to do, I will do. And whatever you need me to be, I will be.

May the sweet, loving, gentle soul of Mommy Shoes rest in perfect peace, Amen.

Is It Still Fornication....

...If I imagine my HUSBAND making love to me (as opposed to just plain ol' imagination of some man that has not "made an honest woman out of me")? Walahi, I imagine this thing in my head all the time. I actually make a conscious effort to picture the ring on his finger because I need to convince God - and myself, of course - that I am not just .... what's the word? Fornicating!!! Yeah, isn't this called fornication of the mind?? Well, it's only fornication when you're imagining someone that isn't your husband. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

I know what you're thinking: "But Vera, you're not married!" Ehen. If I'm not married nko? How is that one your business?? If you can dream it, you can be it. So I have been imagining myself married. Soon I will be married. As you all know, part of being married includes ehm... ehm... going to Jerusalem all willy nilly, so I have been picturing that also. Honestly, he has a ring in my mind. He's my husband in my mind.

If you're thinking the word I think you're thinking, then please stop it right this minute. I am NOT masturbating. I repeat: I AM NOT MASTURBATING!!!!!!!!! I am simply imagining what will be. What is so wrong about that? Doggone it! He has a wedding band on....and so do I. I need someone to just validate me and tell me that it's okay. Tell me I'm right. It might be in my head, but I think I hear God laughing right now. He just said, "This girl is straight trippin!'"

Lemme tell you how this "married love making" starts. It starts after the wedding, in the limo, on our way to the reception hall. With the bridesmaids in the car, we'll be all up on each other. Then my bridesmaids will get pissed and irritated, step out of the limo, and take a cab to the reception venue. Actually, it's a lot more fun in my imagination when they each mount an okada., hair flying in the air, and then all jacked up by the time they reach the reception hall ... tears in the eyes from the wind... maybe their dresses will get ripped too ..... but I digress. So when they get off the limo, hubby and I go to Jerusalem. Bingo!

Then at the reception hall, we have to change into our traditional outfits. We tell everyone to get the heck out of the room and give us some time to "talk." So yeah, we go to Jerusalem again. Thennnnnn after the reception, we continue wherever we spend the night. But see, the entire time, we're married. We have been pronounced husband and wife. This can't possibly be fornication of the mind, can't it??

Say it isn't so!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. Tune in @ 10 AM U.S. Eastern time (3 PM Naija time) for the Verastically Speakin' Radio Show. www.blogtalkradio.com/verastic Set up reminders if you have to. See you there!!!!!!!!! *wink, wink* Please see the schedule of the show by the top right hand corner and contribute as you can. Thank you, darlings!

I'm off to imagine stuff.

What To Do.... What To Do....???

The other day I was watching a new Ghanaian movie, The Perfect Picture (you know I'm current with these things. Oh, you didn't know?). Anyway, it's a really nice movie, beautifully done. It doesn't have twists and turns. I expected it would end the way it did. But that's not the point of this post.

You know how love making scenes in Nigerian movies make you wanna puke and remain celebate, right? Don't tell me I'm the only one they have that effect on. This movie, however, was different. The love making scene was really nice. It didn't have them sweating profusely under a thick, ugly, multi-colored blanket and grunting like they were trying to force out a slice of shit that was double the size of their anus. Too graphic?

Instead, it looked like they were making love AND loving it. In fact, it didn't even look like one or both partners were being punished through sex. It didn't look like the man was trying to jam his penis and his entire body into the woman's little orifice. Ah, that must be what making love looks and sounds like.

Oh, get this. They even did it in more than one position. Yes! This movie had Africans procreating in a position that did not involve the man lifting and throwing his entire weight on the woman. They like to refer to this as missionary. It's not the position that I have qualms with. It's the way the Nigerian/African movies usually do it. Makes my eyes hurt.

Funny enough, that is still not the gist of this post. The gist is that I was watching the movie with my mother. So what exactly was I supposed to do when the love making scene came on? Watch it with mom? Eww. Concentrate on my laptop and pretend I didn't know what was on TV? Yawn, stretch, and pretend to be sleepy? Say 'Eww' and forward that scene (only to come back and watch it when Mom is not around)? I even thought about prentending not to know what they were doing.

[INSERT SERIOUS IGBO ACCENT] Mommy, why are Uncle and Aunty naked and looking dazed? Sex????? Mommy, what is this sex that you speak of, and why are they doing it? To have children???? But Mommy, is it sweet or bitter? [EXIT SERIOUS IGBO ACCENT].

On second thoughts, I figured that wouldn't work either. So I braced up and finished the movie. I am woman enough to watch soft porn a movie with my mom.

P.S. The Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio will air on Thursday, July 2nd 2009 @ 10:00 AM U.S. Eastern time (3:00 PM Naija time), Nigerian Tact (Or Lack Of It). We'll be talking about the way Nigerians use the least diplomacy when dispensing their usually not-sought opinions. E-mail me with your stories/comments/questions. radio@verastic.com

He's Such A Romantic!!!

I might be wrong, but I think that most girls every girl dreams of some form of romance from a man. What one girl considers as romance might not be what the next girl considers as romance. If most girls are like me, then they spend a better part of their day dreaming of romantic fairy tales. What we fail to see is that the thing we're looking for in foreign lands is right at home with us.

And that is how it happened. As far as I am concerned, I have only met one very romantic (thoughtful) human man. Only one other Man supercedes him. And that is God. Even though I laughed about it and always tried to add a little humor to the posts, the fact is that I was quite nervous and afraid about the turn out of the radio show.

In my head, I did everything I could have done. I e-mailed everyone. I facebooked. I twittered (tweeted??). I blogged. And I did the word of mouth, of course. Still, I have never done radio before. I have never taken any class on radio. And talk radio is not like writing or blogging where people cannot hear your nervousness. A "talk" radio will be pretty useless if there is no one there to "talk."

But God, in his awfully romantic nature, came through for me. I don't know why. I am so grateful and pleasantly surprised at the outcome of the radio show. I have no idea how to thank the callers, listeners, downloaders, writers [e-mailers & commenters], and especially, the bloggers.

Tobenna called all the way from Nigeria. Babz and Danny called from U.K. GNG and Ms. O called from Canada. Diamond called from Georgia. No Limit and a bunch of others were in the chatroom giving me a headache with their funny talks. Baroque, Sribbles, Jaycee, My Own Thing, and NaijaDude all helped by sending e-mails and leaving comments on the topic. My friends and acquaintances here in Maryland came through too. Mr. Shoes didn't disappoint me either. He has even become my unpaid manager. He's so sexy when he talks business and statistics. LOL. I've promised to make him custard for payment. The only problem with my payment plan is that he doesn't like custard.

Funmie, my wonderful co-host, she did a fantabulous job. Thanks, Funmie! Mr. Shoes says we work well together. Apparently, we have chemistry. So what do you say we take this to the next level? We open a joint account with your next paycheck? :-)

For the first five minutes of the show, I was crazy nervous. When the countdown began, my heart was thumping. I'm surprised it (the sound) didn't come through on the radio show. My evil cordless phone kept ringing. Do you know that I disconnected the phone AND pulled out its battery? Yet, it kept ringing! Devil... no dey try my patience ooo!

I owe God. I can't ever pay Him, I know. But I just know that I owe Him. He went beyond my expectations. I'd like to take credit for this, but Heaven knows I didn't do it all by myself. I can't take credit for anything @ all. He gave me the brain to think of the concept; He gave me the fingers to type the words for announcements, and He most certainly gave me the mouth to speak on the radio. I'm not sure what part I played in this, if any.

Now, if only every man could be like Him?

P.S. Thanks to all those who left comments on the previous post. Sorry I haven't responded. I'v read them all. I'll respond shortly. I'll put up topics for upcoming shows. E-mail me @ radio@verastic.com if you have any questions/comments/stories/show ideas. As always, the show can be listened to online www.blogtalkradio.com or downloaded for free.

P.P.S. If I give God an e-mail address @ verastic [God@verastic.com or Chineke@verastic.com], do you think He will use it? Or do you think He will crash the entire system?? If He'll use it, then I [as the administrator] can secretly control His account and approve all my prayers ASAP. I might even suspend His account if He doesn't comply with my demands. The power of a website administrator! Good stuff, I tell you. Living life on the fast lane.

P.P.P.S. My last two sentences just confirmed my fear: I need to get a social life.

P.P.P.P.S Goodnight.

D-Day!!

Yes oooo.

Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio launches today. If you think I am nervous, then you are soooo wrong - NOT! Is it too late to cancel or reschedule? Alright fine, it's too late.

I have never done radio before, so I'm hoping I sound okay. I'm hoping I don't start giggling hysterically on the air. It's happened so many times. Giggling hysterically and uncontrollably is not a new thing for me, but I shall not be shamed!

I don't wanna have to discuss this radio on every post, so dear Verastic readers, please help me to help you. Look, it is by force that you will support me ooo! Or else, don't just think I will not sue all of you to court one by one. Yes, my famous and loyal lawyer, LusciousRon will personally see to it that the whole lot of you are chained to the computer, and by force, by force, you must listen to my show AND love it! Don't say you weren't warned.

On that note, you should know that I currently have only three topics lined up. Reason is that I still have to decide on a particular day and time to do the show. I'll be putting up a poll soon for your opinion.

In light of helping me, please send me e-mails concerning these topics. Send your stories/comments/questions to radio@verastic.com or call/text 443-934-9039. If you're sending comments or stories, I'd rather have it in writing, please. It'd be a little difficult typing

everything you're saying. Please go to the show website and set up reminders.

I gather some people are still a little confused, so let me clarify: there are two ways to listen to the show

1. You can listen to the show live by going to the show's website

2. You can listen by dialing the call-in number 646-929-1905. You'll be able to hear everything and also able to join the conversation, if you wish....and I hope you will wish :-)

You can be a part of the conversation by...

1. Dialing the call-in number

2. Clicking on "Click To Talk" on the website. But you'll have to be a member of the website in order to be able to dial in directly. It's absolutely free.

If you miss the show, you can download it for free and listen to it. Or you can just play it right from the player. There's a player installed on the sidebar, and it will always have the last three episodes.

Date	U.S. Eastern Time	Nigerian Time	Topic & Description	Co-host
Tuesday, June 23rd2009	6:00 PM	11:00 PM	Dates: Whose Bill Is It Anyway? – Just one of those things men and women are confused about. Who should actually pay the bill for a date?	Funmie
Thursday, July 2nd2009	10:00 AM	3:00 PM	Nigerian Tact (Or Lack Of It) – This will talk about how Nigerians are famous for just saying it as it is with no diplomacy or discretion whatsoever.	*No one yet*
Saturday, July 11th2009	10:00 AM	3:00 PM	Nigerian Tact (Or Lack Of It) – This will talk about how Nigerians are famous for just saying it as it is with no diplomacy or discretion whatsoever.	*Taken*

Contact:

Show website: www.blogtalkradio.com/verastic

Facebook Group

Call-in number: 646-929-1905

Email: radio@verastic.com

Number (off the air): 1-443-934-9039

Alrighty then! Let's go there.....! See ya.... ;)

Yay To The Daddies!

It's Father's Day today.

I'm not quite sure what to say about my Daddy. I feel like I have said most things. The rest, I just don't know how to say. I love the man to bits. I don't think he can ever do me wrong. Mom believes I always take my Dad's side. I beg to defer. But if it's true, then I am not surprised.

Dad has made so many mistakes - most of which he will never admit. But I know. And I think he knows that I know. In spite of all his mistakes, he's still my boo. He says and does the darndest things. From the outside looking in, one would conclude his wife is the luckiest woman on earth. Wonder what Mom has to say about that. Knowing my Mom, her sentence will start something like, "Luckiest?? Hmm. Let me tell you what that man did to me in 1979...." 1979 is just a random year I picked, but if you probe Mom enough, I'm sure she'll remember something he did.

I have big dreams for my Father. I'd love to help him build another clinic in a different State. I think he's tired of Plateau State. Too many Christian/Muslim wars. Used to be a peaceful State - "The State of peace and tourism..." Wonder if they still have the same punchline. I dream of having enough money to fly him somewhere for a vacation. Since he returned from Russia decades ago, the man has not left the country again. I can't wait to have him walk me down the aisle (and no, I am not yet engaged); I bet he'll say something silly that'll have me in stitches while I'm walking.

Been a while since we played WHOT card game. He always puts some money down for whoever wins. I'm never be too old to spend his money. I really miss rubbing his bald head. It's so bald and smooth that it looks like hair never even grew there. I miss rubbing his big belly. Mom calls is "afo beer" (beer gut). Of course, he disagrees.

So on this Father's Day, I wish Dad a day of unspeakable blessings and favors from God. May his health be completely restored. May he be blessed with long life and prosperity. May he be blessed with wisdom and understanding. May he remain my funny man. I wish all the fathers and fathers-to-be a very happy Father's day. Most especially, I wish Mr. Shoe's Dad & Grandad a very happy Father's day. To them, I say, "chop knuckle for bringing up such a wonderful son/grandson." In short, I throway serious yansh for them. Dem no fall my hand @ allll.

Oh. Speaking of Mr. Shoes, I wish him a very, very happy Father's day (no, he's not yet a father, and no, I am not pregnant. Thank you very much). I wish him long life and prosperity. I pray he is blessed with children that will love, honor, and adore him. I pray he'll be a godly father - the kind God wants all his children to be. I pray he meets success concerning everything and everyone in his life. I pray he is blessed and favored in all areas of his life. Amen.

For all of you who think you are not yet fathers, don't be too sure. You'll be surprised what a DNA test will reveal. Chop clean mouth no dey reign again ooo.

Happy fathering.

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Updates on Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio

* June 23rd 2009 6PM (U.S. Eastern), 11PM (Naija time) - Premiere Date - Topic: Whose Bill Is It Anyway? E-mail radio@verastic.com or text 443-934-9039 with your views/date stories.

* July 2nd 2009 10AM (U.S. Eastern), 3PM (Naija time) - 2nd episode - Topic: Tact (Or Lack Of It). E-mail radio@verastic.com or text 443-934-9039 with your views/tact stories. This topic is about how we don't have a lot of tact in the things we say. I'm sure most of us have experienced our tactlessness.

Please visit the radio site to set up reminders for the shows. Call/text/e-mail if you have any questions.

Be blessed!

P.S. I updated my picture site with pictures of Chidi (my boyfriend, Busola's son). Yeah, it only took me 6 months. Oops.

P.P.S. Blogger don mess up! My blog roll has disappeared. What the frack?? Great. Just what I need right now... :@ (angry face)

So I Finally Walked...

Funms, sebi you dey hear me so??? Yes, I walked.

I've always loved taking walks. I think it releases endorphins. Maybe I'm wrong, but I love it. Haven't been taking walks in the past... oh, I don't know.... yeah, eight years! I've walked in the past eight years, but only when I've needed to - not for pleasure. Been planning on walking since last week, but I've been scared of ojuju catching me (I'll explain later what I consider as ojuju).

So on Sunday, I did it. I was going to walk at 7:00 PM, but the sun was still out and burning bright. Since I didn't want to bake or roast, I decided to wait. So I waited till 9:10 PM. It was getting dark, but not completely dark. Armed with my mp3 player, my keys, and my dysfunctional blackberry (that keeps deleting my call records & text messages), I began my walk. As soon as I started, I met ojuju #1.

Ojuju #1: Insects. I hate the flipping tiny, little suckers. They fly everywhere, hover over my head, get in my face (almost in my nose sef), and then have the audacity to perch on me. What insolence! And those little flying insects that have flashing green lights... oh, what I would do to crush every single one of them.

But I kept walking. Twisting my waist here, gyrating my hips there. I kept on walking. Styling and profiling. Okay, maybe I'm exxagerating, but the walk was sweet sha. I admired the trees. Silently praised God for His awesomeness. Bracket was singing "Ada Owerri" in my ears. It took everything in me to not start dancing on the streets. Kept walking. Noticed things I hadn't noticed before. Like a sign that says they'll be building stores around the area. Maybe I should call and rent a store for blogging. America is already in debt. What difference will it make if I file bankruptcy at this point? I drive on that road about five days a week, but I only noticed the sign today. Everything was great until I saw ojuju #2.

Ojuju #2: A big, white dog that looked more like a polar bear - with a long, furry, white tail, of course. It was running alone on the opposite side of the road. I don't do dogs. I love them as long as they're mine. This polar bear that called itself a dog was not mine, so I froze right where I was standing. Some day I'll blog about my beef with dogs. Not today. This post is long enough as it is. Funny enough, the girl on the other side of the street (where the dog was) also froze when she spotted the animal. We looked at each other and laughed, strangers with a familiar fear. Then we kept walking, glancing at each other every few seconds and exchanging nervous smiles.

That dog messed up my flow. Made me want to turn back. But I kept walking. Was determined to come back and tell Funms that I walked. The dog was ahead of me, so I kept my eyes on it. Didn't seem harmful or unfriendly, but I'm human, and that dog - no matter its color or its cuteness - was still a darn dog. Who even owned the dog?? People should not let their dogs run around like that doggonit!

Eventually, it made a right turn while I continued straight. I kept glancing back, trying to make sure it didn't come back out. I was getting comfortable, and then I spotted it again. Oh, that was just it! I had had it. I turned around and started walking back home. That's where I met Ojuju #3.

Ojuju #3: I was walking on the right side of the road, so cars were coming up behind me. I was very, very paranoid. That was my ojuju. Kept feeling like a car would knock my elbow off. Don't blame me. My mother instilled that fear in me when I was young. "Don't walk close to the road; a car will knock your hand off." Same reason I never bring my hand out of the window while I'm driving. A car will knock it off. So I kept glancing back every few seconds, watching out for cars and my furry enemy. Then ojuju #4 came along.

Ojuju #4: Some African-American man in a car stopped by. Had to happen at some point, right? Don't remember the kind of car, but I think it was either gold or brown. I think he had a baby at the backseat. I might be wrong. It was dark.

Man: **He said something I didn't hear. Was listening to music**
Me: What? [Took my earphones off]
Man: You need a ride?
Me: No, thanks.
Man: Can I call you?
Me: No.
Man: Can you call me?

Well, I just put my earphones back on and kept walking. Rubbish. It's all my fault. I bothered to give him audience. When I was almost home, Electric Slide came up on my mp3 player (Yes, I have the electric slide on my mp3 player. That's how much I love that stuff!). I wiggled a little bit while I was on the road. It was too hard to resist. It took all the self-control I had not to slide my brown butt back home. Made it back home at 9:47 PM. Thiry-seven minutes. Not bad. Will walk longer next time, hopefully.

Lessons Learned:
* Leave home a bit earlier - between 8 and 8:30 PM
* Don't wear slippers next time. Athletic shoes will work best.
* Take "sheltox" along (insecticides, for those that are not Nigerians). Thou shall spray every little bugger that comes thy way.
* Take a baseball bat in case you run into the likes of ojuju #2 and ojuju #3

So yeah, I finally walked.

P.S. I'm still receiving e-mails/texts for the upcoming radio show www.blogtalkradio.com/verastic Topic is "Dates: Whose Bill Is It Anyway?" Send me your questions about it. Or if you have stories about going on dates and having a payment-confusion situation, please send them!! Won't mention your name on the show. Thanks, darlings!! radio@verastic.com 443-934-9039

If I Could Go Back In Time...

I would. If I could go back in time and undo so many stupid things I did, I would. If I could go back in time, back to when I was innocent and clueless about the sins and wickedness of the world, I would. If I could go back time and take a different path, get to know God sooner, be a lot wiser, I would. But I can't.

So I cannot help but wonder, what would have happened if Eve had not fallen for the devil's antics? What would have happened if the devil never succeeded in fooling Eve? What would have happened if the devil did not succeed in fooling Eve or anyone else? Where would we be today? Would we still be parading the naked in the garden of Eden? Would we still not know the difference between good and bad?

If Eve had not fallen, would the punishment for men and women be non-existent? If Eve had not fallen, men would not have to toil for the upkeep of themselves and their family. Women would not suffer the pain of childbirth. But I also wonder, would there be menstrual cycles, or is that just as a result of Eve's sins? Would there be sex, or is that part of knowing the difference between good and evil. If there is no sex, how would we have children? Oh, yeah... just like the Virgin Mary did. If there is no child birth, how would we give birth? Are we gonna wake up one morning and discover we are now parents?

Without Eve's sin, does that mean there would be no money? After all, [the love of] money is the root of all evil. Without Eve's sin, does that mean there would be no such thing as having a career et al? Why have a career since there is no such thing as money? After all, money is what compels us to have careers. Without the sin of our first parents, there would be no cancer, no HIV, no heart disease, no diabetes, no headaches. Nothing. We'll be perfect. No birth deformities. No broken bones. No unusual genes causing unusual illnesses like down syndrome. No sickle cell anemia.

How would we get married? Would we still court/date? Would there be any such thing as kissing? Would oral sex exist? Fingering? Anal sex? Fetishes? If the sins of our first parents were non-existent, there will be no betrayal. No cheating. No hate. No insecurities. No infidelities. No barreness. No troubles. No enemies. No prejudice.

No hurricanes. No fires. No air crashes. Would we even have air planes? No mudslides. No tsunamis. No hails. No erosions. No volcanos. No tornados. No mistakes. Will we have doctors? If we did, they would never, ever make mistakes. Everyone will be perfect. Everyone will be happy. Perfect. Happy. Perfect. Happy. Perfect. Happy and perfect. We'll spend our days praising God. Singing of His goodness and awesomeness. Adoring Him. Magnifying Him.

Ah, Adam and Eve, una fall my hand oooo! See the kin life I for dey live. I woulda been rolling deep, living the good life, life on the fast lane (with God, of course). Chei. Now, I'm stuck with tryna fight the damn devil everyday. Now I'm stuck with binding and casting, rejecting and refuting, praying and hoping, believing and trusting.

God dey sha.....!!!

Disclaimer: Dear God, this is not an indication that I am craving Heaven right now - at least not the Heaven that is in Heaven. If there is a way for me to experience Heaven while still on earth, then please, Father, bring it on! Yes, yes, I will meet You some day, but not anytime soon. When I'm 114, I'll come meet You. That's what we agreed on, remember?

I Quit Blogging

Yes, I realize that this comes as a big shock to everyone, but the fact is that I have been struggling to update this blog. So far, I have managed to update it every three days as usual, but it has been painful. Too many things are going on. School, unfinished book, the new online radio show (which will premiere on June 23rd), and of course, life too is still going on.

I thought I could cope with both (blogging and radio-ing), but apparently, I cannot. But don't feel too bad. The radio site actually has a blog thingy, so I can still blog from there, but it will be sporadic, and probably not as detailed. I'm not gonna shut this blog down - just in case I do decide (by some twist of fate) to return.

I will keep writing articles though and updating my other blog. I'll also remain active on Twitter, Facebook, and whatever social network the world wide web has conjured up. Oh, speaking of Twitter, I'm starting to get the hang of it. Good stuff. Quite addictive too.

So without further ado, I'd like to ask... is it too late to say I'm really kidding about quitting my blog?? Hehehehehe. Of course, I'm not quitting! Quitting ke? Lai lai!! I'm actually only trying to expand beyond just writing - which is why I'm starting the online radio show.

Now that I have your attention, listen read carefully: I will be starting an online radio show. It will broadcast LIVE (although you can download it for FREE or listen to it online if you do miss it). Please, please... give your sister some support. By that, I mean you should join me and call in. Yeah, you can totally call in and join the conversation for FREE too! For those that live out of the country, I realize that calling in might be expensive, but there is an alternative. You can join the website (become a member) and then you'll be able to click the 'Call Now' button during the LIVE segment. It won't cost you anything; just have a mic.

Right now, I don't have a particular day and time for the show because I don't know which day will work best for most people. For the first three episodes, I'll have different days and times, but I will let you know before the day comes up. The show will be about us (Nigerians, friends of Nigeria, people that have heard of Nigeria... and you know... all human beings in general). We'll be discussing anything and everything as it relates to us . Don't worry; it'll be fun stuff. I won't be discussing oral sex. Oh, wait... that is the fun stuff!

I thought long & hard before I came up with the name for the show. Introducing: Verastically Speakin!!' Hehehe. How creative, huh? (Can you read my sarcasm?) If you have contributions for the radio (discussion topics, questions about upcoming topics, or if you wanna be a guest/cohost), email radio@verastic.com .... If it'll make any positive difference, you should know that I am on my knees begging AND I didn't mean to fool you into thinking that I'm quitting my blog. Obviously, it was the handwork of the devil. Bad devil, bad devil!

On Tuesday, June 23rd (the first day of the show ... no, I'm not hyperventilating - a lot), the topic for the day will be Dates: Whose Bill Is It Anyway? Apparently, we (men & women) don't quite agree on whose bill it should be. Maybe after we tackle it together on the air, we can decide whose bill it really is. That way, next time you're on a date - for those who actually go on dates - you can refuse to pay and say, "I heard on an online radio show that it's your bill!!!" Don't say you heard from Vera oooo. Ehen... moving along...

So I'm not just writing about this because I like typing. I'm writing cause I need you to prove your Verastic Love-o-meter by helping me out. Send me questions concerning this topic. Send me stories concerning this topic (like when you went on a date and thought he/she would pay but didn't pay). And on the day of the actual premiere, tune in AND call in. Please, please, please. I don't know how else to plead. I really am on my knees. Okay, maybe I'm sitting down, but if I weren't so tired, I would be on my knees.

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Contact Info (click on the links):

Visit Verastically Speakin' Radio

Join Facebook Group

Follow on Twitter

radio@verastic.com (for all e-mails concerning the radio)

Call in number for the radio: 646-929-1905

Contact number off the radio: 443-934-9039 (You can text this number with your questions/stories/comments/inquiries too).

P. S. When you go to the show's website, you'll see the scheduled show (and as time goes on, I'll schedule more shows). But click on "Remind Me" and it'll prompt you for your e-mail address. That way, when the show is ready to air, you'll receive a reminder - although I'll still mention it on my blog, on twitter, and on facebook.

If you do this for me, I will... I will... I will... in fact, I don't know what I will do.

I'm Feeling Lolo-Ish

Yes, Lolo-ish. As in Lolo the Queen. Lolo-ish as in Queenish. I feel like becoming a Lolo. Suddenly the idea of being referred to as "Your Majesty" isn't so bad. I would love to clap my hands and have five maids appear, ready to do just about anything. Maybe remove a hair from my face. Maybe rub lip gloss on my lips. Actually, scratch that. I don't really like people's hands on my lips. Well, I like certain people's hands on my lips. Not everyone's.

But as I was saying. It'd be nice to have maids who are ready to do anything for me. Maybe they'll help me blink my eyes. Or help me snap my fingers. Or help me hiss. Maybe I've just done number two and I don't feel like wiping myself. Guess who will do it? Yeap, the maids! Whatever I need to get done, the maids will be readily available. And I'll have palace guards too. They'll oil my scalp, massage my feet, rub my back, etc... you know, regular stuff that palace guards do (or should do).

I've told Mr. Shoes to go and run for the Igwe position in his town - whether the position exists or not, and whether he qualifies or not. But he thinks I'm being funny. I think I'm just gonna go back to my own town & run for the Lolo position. It'll be a little tricky because my town doesn't have an Igwe position, so it especially doesn't have a Lolo position, but nothing is written in stone, right? Things change. After all, once upon a time, we were all heterosexuals in this world - back when it was only Adam & Eve. But I digress...

I feel like being a Lolo. I want to have my body adorned with the most beautiful beads the land has to offer. I want to be clothed in royalty. I want my husband to make royal love to me, so I can get royally pregnant, have some bonafide royal children, and be royally royal for all royal eternity.

That's not too much to ask, is it?

Fresh Air

Heaven knows I need some of this right now.  It'd be nice if I could just have a nice place to vacation to.  It'd be really nice if I had a loving volunteer family somewhere that would welcome me into their home every summer.  It'd be really, really nice to just wake up and think of nothing else but the fun I would have for the day.  Ah, but I'm no longer between the ages of 6 and 12.  In fact, considering how many when-are-you-getting-married questions I have been receiving lately, I think they expect me to have a child between the ages of 6 and 12 (instead of wishing I were between the ages of 6 & 12).  

So that brings me to my main gist: Fresh Air.  Ever heard?  Since 1877 (that's right, lonnnnnnng before you were born, and right after I was born), Fresh Air has been providing inner city kids with that summer vacation.  You know the one they can't stop talking about when they go back to school?  Yeap, that one.  Since 1877, volunteer host families have been opening their doors to these kids and hosting them for the summer.  Have I mentioned just how much I wish I were between the ages of 6 and 12?  I tell you, I'll be off in a heart beat.  But alas, I'm just a wee little bit above the age limit.  A wee little bit, I said.

So why am I talking about this?  Well, I realize the economy isn't particularly in its best shape, but let's not underestimate what the littlest help can do.  When these children go for these vacations, their lives are changed forever - with little wonder why.  From now till June 30th, any amount of money you donate to Fresh Air will be matched dollar-for-dollar.  So if you donate $100, that means one of the generous donors will match your gift by also giving $100.  And you know what that means?  $200 for the kids! [This is only an example; you do not have to give $100.  Any amount you give is fine].

 If you can help, please help.  Don't let anything hold you back.  We ought to give these wonderful children some breath of fresh air.

www.freshair.org 

1-800-367-0003

It's My Mommy's Birthday

My gorgeous mommy turns plus one today.  I was tempted to put up a picture.  But I decided maybe next year.

I've been looking at her a lot recently.  She has changed.  Age is beginning to creep up on my ageless mommy.  Her hair is not quite as dark as it used to be.  Greys are sprouting up everywhere.  I see the wrinkles on her face.  When she smiles, they're there.  When she laughs, they're there.  She doesn't see quite as well anymore.  She cannot read without her glasses, and even with her glasses, she has to hold the paper at a certain distance.

A decade ago, she had tons of shoes with pencil-thin heels.  She walked majestically on them.  Dad could never understand how she walked in them.  She's probably the reason why I love heels so much now.  These days, mom's heels aren't quite as high.  Or as thin.  They're lower and fatter, and she doesn't wear them for so long anymore.

When I look at my mommy, I see a woman who is beautiful - both inside and out.  She pisses me off so many times, but more times than that, I get on my knees and thank God for her.  On my account, she has given up so much, done so much, and suffered so much.  And on this XXth birthday of hers, I pray to God once again to favor me, and give me the strength to do the little things that excite this woman He gave me to.  I pray to be able to buy her that freezer full of stockfish she has been dreaming about.  I pray to send her on a trip to Russia, London, and wherever else she's been dreaming about.  I pray to get her that big house with the two garages - a house she would not have to pay for because I, her only daughter will take care of it.

On this birthday of hers, I am reminded of all the dreams I have for my mother.  Things I intend to do for her.  Little ways I intend to say thank you for being the best mother.  No amount of gifts can ever be enough, but knowing my mother, she will not say no to them.  I dream of handing her gifts and having her sing that Igbo song that says, "If not the child, who else will give?"  I intend to give her the world, plus me in it.

So on this blessed day of June 2nd 2009, I want to wish my dear, beautiful, wonderful mommy a very, very happy birthday.  I wish her health, joy, peace, long life, and prosperity.  I wish her the blessings and favor of the Lord, and I pray that He who made her meets her at the point of her needs.  I pray that He showers more blessings on her than she ever thought possible because I know that He is able to do exceedingly and abundantly more than we expect.  I pray that He makes Himself manifest in her life.

And we all said, AMEN!!!!!

Happy birthday, mommy!

Feeling A Bit Down

UPDATE: Thank you all for all your wonderful comments, e-mails, and offline messages.  I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday.  I'm feeling a lot better.  Expect my update tomorrow.  Thanks!!!

I know I'm supposed to update today, but I'm not feeling too good.  I'm running a mysterious fever and just generally feeling sick.  Can't explain how I'm feeling.  Mom asked, "How am I supposed to carry someone who has broken hips?  If you don't tell me how you're feeling, I can't help you."  I'll tell her how I'm feeling once I figure it out.  

I'm cold even though it's hot.  Cold goosebumps have nested on my arms, telling me I'm cold.  Yeah, thanks for telling me.  Every deep breath I take, the goosebumps fatten.  They must feed on oxygen.  Or maybe they feed on carbon dioxide.  They fatten when I exhale.  Yeah, definitely carbon dioxide.  I've popped a couple of ibuprofens.  Hope to be better by morning.  Will update in three days.  Hate feeling like this.

Anyone know if goosebumps can be auctioned on Ebay?  Everything sells on Ebay.  When I exhale, my scalp itches. Feels like the hairs on the center of my head are all standing.  They must be congregating, literally having a meeting on my head.  They ought to keep it quiet - or at least limit their movement.

Seriously feel like crying.  Did I mention I hate feeling like this?  Maybe my body is just tired. Mom thinks I've eaten too many peanuts in the last couple of days.  [Funmi brought some Naija peanuts back, and I've been munching away - with soaked garri, of course.  Come to think of it, that's all I've eaten today.  A bowl of garri, peanuts & sugar].  Maybe I've taken in too much sugar recently.  I don't know.  Doubt if it's the peanuts.  They're so pretty.  They have to be innocent.  But sugar is evil.  It tastes so sweet, but one never knows its intention in the body.

I'm asking, praying, and hoping that the long, healing arm of God touches me and cleanses me completely - from the crown of my head to the sole of my feet.  I'll also prefer for the blood of Jesus to replace my blood.  His blood is wayyy cooler.  It heals, protects, and cleanses.  Mine is just blood.  Regular good ol blood.  It's Verastic blood, but blood nonetheless.  I'll be well tomorrow.  I'll be cleansed completely.  It's been written.  So shall it be.  Amen.  I'll feel better tomorrow.

Well, I just wanted to come here and write two lines or so, telling you that I'm down.  So much for being too weak to update.  I think I've just updated.  May the Lord be praised.  So have me in your prayers, please.  Even if you have other things to pray about - which I'm sure you do - just cancel them all and put me first.  No, it's not selfish of me to request that of you.

I'll be back.  Miss me.  Seriously, miss me.  I'll be checking everyone's Verastic Missometer, and God help you if you're not missing me.  Don't be found not missing me.  

Ironic, huh?

Something funny has been happening these days.  I step out of the car, lock it (with the remote), walk toward my destination, and then, suddenly feel like I didn't lock the car.  So I just walk right back to the car to make sure it's locked.  So far, every time I have come back, the car has been locked.  I laugh at myself sometimes.  I wonder why I bother coming back every single time (knowing somewhere in my heart that the car is locked), but it's because I never remember locking it.

On the contrary, some days, I am too sure about locking the car (what's that they say about being too sure again?); I walk to my destination (sometimes my destination is my home; I'm retiring for the night), and I settle down with easeness and calmness.  And confidence.  And assurance.  Because I know I locked the car.

But then I come back to the car later (or in the morning), and I am almost shocked out of my pants.  Except that sometimes I'm not wearing pants (trousers).  Or maybe my pants are too tight, so I can't really be shocked out of them.  But I digress.  My car isn't locked.  It's wide open.  One time, the back passenger window at the right was winded down.  But my car is always safe.  And so is everything in it - not that there is much anyway.  I only have a box of tissue sitting on the front passenger seat.  Sometimes, a few sheets of paper on the back seat.

But I cannot help but wonder, why do I even bother locking this car?  It's evident that I am not the reason why the car has not been broken into.  Someone higher than me has been watching over it.  Locked or unlocked, if someone wanted to, someone would break into it.  But someone has not wanted to.  No one has wanted to.  

So He that watches over me also watches over my property.  He watches over everything that concerns me.  He sees to it that I am well taken care of.  He sees to it that I, his unloyal, unworthy daughter, lack nothing.  And even though I always falter, and I always disappoint him, and I always make mistakes, somehow, he anticipates them because He knows what I will do before I even do them.  He did after all know me before I was. 

My people, this is the year of joy unspeakable.  Make sure nothing stops you from experiencing that God-given joy.

DISCLAIMER: This is NOT an endorsement to leave your car unlocked oooo!  If you do, whatever you see, that one is your own.  Let no one say Vera said....

P.S. Funmi is coming back from Naija today - after one long month.  *sigh*  Thank goodness!  I need someone to say silly things to me.  Hehehehe.  If it seems as if I'm saying Funmi is silly, well.... that's your judgement, not mine.