It's The 3rd Day

It's the third day since I last updated [on the 24th]. According to the unwritten - well, they're written somewhere on the blog, but they're not written on stone ... obviously - rules of Verastically Livin,' I'm due for an update today. Problem is, I'm not quite sure what to blog about.

Perhaps, this qualifies as one of those random posts. Yeah, you know the ones where you start off believing you have nothing to blog about, and then you begin to write about how you have nothing to blog about, only to end up with an entire post about how and why you don't have what to blog about --- but will go ahead and mention a few random thoughts anyway. Yeah, this is one of those.

On that note...

• I bought a water bottle from Wal-Mart that takes 2.2 L of water [which is equal to 8 glasses of water]. We are recommended to drink 8 glasses of water per day, so I figured I'd give it a try. Sooo not easy! Been walking around feeling like water-filled balloons are dancing around in my belly. I'm pretty sure that if you poke my belly with a pin, you'll be able to host a pool party.

• Have you ever felt like so many things are just going on at the same time? Ever knelt down to pray and not even known what to pray for or how to pray for it? Ever wished you could confront God face-to-face and ask Him some personal questions, but then, as quickly as that wish came to you, a thought popped up in the back of your mind, and you say to yourself [or maybe out loud], "God forbid! I don't want to confront Him. I'll die the day I see His face?" No?? Just me then. Okay.

• "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow/ Because He lives, all fear is gone/ For I know .. oh.. oh.. oh.. He holds my future/ And life is worth living just because He lives..." It'd be a lot easier for me to embrace the future if I know what it has in store for me. I sing that song to make myself feel better. And no, I am neither depressed nor contemplating suicide, thank you very much. My confusingly identical twins still have to be invented and born. Am I looking forward to that or what???

• Speaking of the invention of children, I look forward to that. The process of coming up with different ways and styles that are most suitable for the invention of said children has to be pretty darn interesting. [Case in point: I heard that when the woman stays upside down immediately after the act of invention, it better increases the chances of a successful invention]. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, move on. You'll know soon enough.

• Switching to yet another random topic: yesterday on Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio was off the chains...and I'm not just saying that because I'm the host. Oh, what the heck? That is why I'm saying it. But it really was off the chains. This time, I'm serious. Topic was Be Lucrative Or Die Trying. Click HERE to listen. Okechukwu Ofili and Iceberg Slim co-hosted. At the end, we played Iceberg's new song, "Nigerian Girls" featuring Sauce Kid. Good stuff.

• Back to this future thing ... I approach it with some trepidation. I need things to be stable. If you were to ask God what Vera is thinking of Him, He'll say, "She thinks I'm the unstable one, but has she looked at herself lately??? I'm the Unchangeable Changer!"

• Speaking of that name, "Unchangeable Changer" ... for the longest time, I couldn't make sense of it. I thought it was another ludicrous name/phrase Nigerians had come up with. You know how we are. I get it now. He's the God who changes things, but He never changes. Oooohh. Cool beans!!! God is such a cool Man!! [Sorry, I can be slow some times.]

• Next week Saturday, we'll be asking [on Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio] 'Who Is A Submissive Wife???' I'm working on getting a second co-host. In the meantime in between time - gosh, I love saying that - why don't you do help your sister out again? See the poll on the top right sidebar? Yeap, that one. Tell me what you think. When you're done, click HERE to set up you reminder for the show. It's going to be the same time on Saturday, Oct 3rd at 10am U.S EST/3pm GMT. E-mail radio@verastic.com for comments/questions/suggestions.

• Blogger really needs to come up with a way to attach music to a post. They want me to do podcasts and all that ish? Seriously??? I just want to attach an mp3 file! Bear with me. Enjoy this video below. It's not an actual video. It's Iceberg Slim's song. It's the only one I could find on YouTube. Wasn't my favorite choice [seeing as Sauce Kid was spelled as Sauce Ki ...right there in the first two seconds of the video. Driving me nuts, I tell you.], but I had no other option. Does anyone know an easier way to attach songs? I think Wordpress does a better job at this. Come on, Blogger... you're better than this!

... And I thought I had nothing to blog about!JJJ

I Need A Personal Assistant

Job description:

• Update Verastically Livin' every three days.
• Reply comments [on Verastically Livin'] as they come in.
• Hunt down and harass people till they agree to co-host Verastically Speakin Talk Radio.
• Schedule shows on Verastically Speakin Talk Radio.
• Reply all e-mails (on Verastic, Facebook, & Twitter).
• Take and return phone calls.
• Reply text messages.
• Compose e-mails when needed and keep the readers informed.
• Keep the Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio Facebook Group updated.
• Approve all my friend requests on Facebook.
• Poke back all my pokers on Facebook.
• Put up polls on Verastically Livin for upcoming shows on Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio.
• Constantly think of show ideas.
• Think of the best suitable co-hosts for each show.
• Write my book.
• Do my school work.
• Feed me.
• Rub my back.
• Moisturize my lips every two hours.
• Remind the "administrative assistant" [aka Funmie] that today is Thursday, and she needs to follow Miss Jayla on Twitter for tweminar.
• Do my hair. [It's currently a hot mess].

I'm drowning here. 24 hours are hardly enough hours in a day. 48 hours, maybe. Thank you all for the lovely comments in my previous posts. I'm sorry I have not been able to respond to all of them. I have read them all. I always do. Time has not really been on my side.

On that note, Funmie has really assumed the position of Administrative Assistant [stop laughing]. She has been a tremendous help so far, but there are still some things she just can't do. Anyone thinking what I'm thinking? Stop thinking what you're thinking, pervert.

So Funmie has been really helpful anyway. I sent an e-mail out to a whole lotta people about upcoming shows, and the response has been encouraging. Thank you. We should be able to respond to all the e-mails by this weekend. I now qualify for the we thing. I have always found it strange when a solo blogger refers to him/herself as we. I've thought that to be the early signs of schizophrenia. But in this case, we really does fit the case. We as in Funmie and I. Whenever I am unable to handle it, Funmie will take over. Fear not, she's got the Verastic training too - whatever that might be.

Just to remind you --- notice the poll on the right sidebar?? That's for the upcoming show on Saturday. If you have not taken the poll, please do. It'll help us. Also, there's a long list of upcoming shows on the left sidebar. I hope you'll be interested in co-hosting. If so, let us know. Gosh, this is sooo cool! The whole use of we and us. Read the previous post for details on co-hosting.

Well, off I go to bed. We will get back to you. Alright Vera.... put a cork in it. Soooo not funny anymore!!! Do not despair - whoever said you're despairing? - I still remain the sole updater of this blog.

Parents Are So Cute!

What you don't know will not kill hurt you. I don't know how true that statement is. Well, I'm sure it's true. I'm sure it's sometimes true. Maybe mostly true, but certainly not always true. Isn't it so cute how parents always think the best of their children and think that their big, grown up children are still their little, innocent babies?

In class the other day, somehow, we got to talking about one night stands. I have a Nigerian lady in my class - very sweet and wonderful - and she has been here [America] for about two or three decades, I believe. She's back to school to get another degree. More grease to her elbows. Anyway, she did not know what a one night stand is, so she inquired.

When told, she said, "Oh no, my child doesn't know what that is,"

Curious, I asked - because I was sure that this child is an actual child, bearing in mind the definition of child, "How old is your child?"

She said, with pride the size of the entire State of Texas, "He's 25,"

25?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Well, there you have it. She thinks her 25 year old child does not know about one night stands. The better, perhaps wiser thing to do is ask: Is he back home yet from last night's one night stand?

......Or we could just stick to believing that he's a child.

In Other News....

*** Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio will be resuming its regular schedule at 10:00am U.S. EST (3:00pm GMT/Nigerian time) on Saturday, September 26th 2009.

*** The scheduled shows and their co-hosts are up there. The first scheduled show [coming up on Saturday, Sept 26th] is about the career choices we [Nigerians/Africans] make. Co-hosting with me are Okechukwu Ofili and Iceberg Slim. There's a poll on the right sidebar. You know what to do ---- please --- with a cherry on top :)

*** Upcoming shows are on the left sidebar. I can only schedule shows one month ahead of time, but since people have been inquiring about future shows, I have also put up a list of twenty upcoming shows. They will not be coming up in that particular order, but at least, it gives you an idea.

*** Co-hosts are needed for all of those twenty shows. Yes, ALL OF THEM. So if you're thinking about being a co-host for any of them, now will be the time to let me know. radio@verastic.com 1-443-934-9039.

*** If you're on Twitter, here's an opportunity to have some fun. Every Thursday, Ms Jayla will host a Tweminar where she and other Twitters will Twit (tweet?) about the upcoming Verastically Speakin Talk Radio show. Follow Ms. Jalya & join the fun!!!

Any other question(s)? You know how to reach me. No flashes, please :)

Sins Of The Mother

Remember when I put up that angry post about people flashing me at odd hours of the night? Well, it's really amazing because there is this particular person that does it most, and I know that he/she reads my blog. I also know that he/she read that particular post. So why did he/she still continue to flash - although no longer at that ungodly hour???

Here comes my aha moment. My mother is the cause! No, no, she does not know him/her. However, this is a case where the sins of the mother have come to hunt the daughter. Mom does not flash anyone. The sound of this last sentence compels me to explain once more time that flashing [in Nigeria] does not mean what flashing in America means. In Nigeria [or in Nigerian terms], flashing is when a person calls you, lets it rings about once or twice, and then hangs up. The idea is to have his/her number flash on your phone and then you call him/her back.

So as I was saying, mom does not flash anyone [in spite of the previous explanation of flash/flashing, this sentence still sounds very awkward. Mom & flash just shouldn't be in the same sentence. Ah, I've been in this country too long]. What mom does instead is call people in Nigeria at 11pm. No, not 11pm their time; I mean 11pm our time. That's 4am their time! And as if that's not bad enough, she starts the conversation by asking, "Oh, did I wake you up?"

Seriously???? No, of course not, mom. People just usually stay awake at 4am ... especially on week days. You know how good it feels to get two hours of sleep before springing up for another day's work. Woop-tee-doo!!! I don't even know why she asks that question because the person's response will not deter her from saying what she called to say. It might take anywhere from zero to twenty-one minutes (which is the maximum that a $2 Nigeria DC calling card gives).

I - wherever I may be during this conversation - am usually boiling with anger ... for this person, of course. I just don't get it. Why would you wake someone up at four in the morning??? What is it that cannot wait till later? And there I was raising fire and brimstone for the people that flash me at three in the morning while my own mother was [still is] busy waking people up from their REM sleep. No wonder the flashers have targeted my phone. I need to start giving out my mother's number as mine. Justice must be served!

If by any chance I do move back to Nigeria before mom, I need to warn her to cease and desist from dialing my number between the hours of 8:59pm and 8:59am - Nigerian Time. No, I will not be sleeping during all of those hours, of course, but before the children come into the picture, they will first need to be invented... will they not??? These things don't happen by themselves, peeps.

Shall We Call This An 'Irony' Then?

Some weeks ago, my Pastor preached about the wicked hearts and intentions of men (men meaning human beings). He talked about how you can shake a person's hand and the person will have some kind of charm in the palm of his/her hand. He talked about how imperative it is to always be prayerful - specifically sanctifying everything about us with the Blood of Jesus.

Now, I know this may raise some controversy. Some people might see this as a scare tactic, which I understand, but you have to also consider and understand that "The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds..." 2 Cor 10:4 (I'm usually an NIV babe, but for this verse, I like the KJV better).

Pastor made it a point to say, "I am not saying you should not shake anyone's hands..." and for the most part, we all got the point, but I think everyone [that was alert during the service] left thinking, "So this what the world has come to??? I kuku [even/definitely] suspected that that hand shake Obi gave me last week was just too long and warm for comfort. When did we start Geography that we're drawing map like that?"

Or maybe I was the only one thinking that.

The following week, a very smart doctor came to give us some Health Education (my term, not hers or the church's). She talked about how the flu has been going around and all that stuff - something that anyone in America - especially those in the cold regions know. She educated us on the regular flu and the swine flu. And then she stressed the importance of washing our hands and using hand sanitizers.

Here's where it gets tricky. I wash my hands several times a day. I wash my hands so many times that Busola has started calling me obsessive compulsive - which I am not, by the way - and I wash my hands so many times that the palms of my hands are now hard - a damage I do not think I can reconcile. But hand sanitizer?!?!?! I do not do hand sanitizers. They stink. They burn my eyes. (Do they have ammonia in them?) And they make my hands white. So, me, hand sanitizer?!?! Puh-lease!

Alright, fine, I gave in and bought myself a bottle of hand sanitizer - all in the quest to not catch any kind of flu. But in my defense, it is the lavender flavor! I actually went to the baby aisle to get this hand sanitizer. They don't sell it [the lavender flavor] in the regular hand sanitizer aisle. But I digress... After hearing those two speeches (the one about charms and the one about needing to wash your hands always), you can imagine how paranoid I have been.

The hand sanitizer stays in the car. Every time I enter the car, I sanitize my hands and smile because I am confident that come rain, come shine, I will not catch any kind of flu. So why am I sitting on my bed breathing from my mouth with both nostrils completely stuffed??

Oh, yeah, I know why!! They (Pastor & the smart medical doctor) forgot to warn us about seven year olds in second grade who can and will bring the flu home from school. Greeeaaaaattttt. And to think I took so much precaution! Now I'm stuck sipping on a hot cup of Theraflu every 6 hours. I hate Theraflu. Even more, I hate this flavor that's been given to me. Apple & Cinnamon. Seriously?!?! I don't do anything cinnamon.

Aaagghh, flu. I hate you so. I think I need a refund on my hand sanitizer.

P.S. Please check the schedule for upcoming Verastically Speaking shows (on the top left sidebar). It's been a little a lot crazy around here, but it's better now. The show will resume its regular schedule on Saturday, September 26th 2009 @ 10:00 AM EST (3:00 PM GMT). And for all the stalkers lovers of Ekene Agabu... he's back...!!! But don't say I told you so. You never knew Ekene was even here??? Well then.... get acquainted HERE.

P.P.S. The other co-hosts' names will be added as time goes on [before the show]. Don't forget to click on the show title to set up your reminders.

For The Love Of Mr. Shoes

I have done a lot of crazy things for love. Okay, fine, maybe not a lot, and come to think of it... what love? But this time, I am about to do something crazy for love. It really is crazy, and it really is love. A while back --- a really long while back --- I heard on the radio that if you have a partner [boyfriend, girlfriend, fiance, fiancee, husband, wife, whatever else there is out there these days] and he/she has never farted in front of you, it means that he/she has a lot to hide from you and cannot be trusted.

I am not one who wants to walk around farting. There is no honor in that! L In front of Funmie, Busola, etc, sure - in fact, it would be my pleasure J - but just anyone --- especially a man? Hmm. If memory serves me right, there are only two men I have deliberately farted in front of: my cousin (who is like a brother to me) and my father (and that was when I was a baby and could not countrol myself anyway). Fine, I admit I have farted in front of a few male babies. Sue me.

The radio personality also said that your partner should be able to do number two (doodoo/poop) in front of you. See, I have a big problem with this. I do not even like number-twoing in other people's homes - males or females. I prefer doing it in the comfort of my home where I can scream, shout, and sing while I'm doing it. Besides, ever since Funmi's doodoo clogged the toilet and someone else had to come fix it, I've been a bit on the paranoid side. Every slice of shit deserves a flush, peeps. Remember that the next time you decide to offload your excess luggage.

But for the love of Mr. Shoes, I will break my rules. Oh, yes, I will. I will go above and beyond to doodoo and fart in front of him - for him, of course. As you all may know or not know, I am extremely lactose intolerant. That said, I will consume as many dairy products as I can before I pay him a visit. And I'll mix it up with a very peppery bowl of peppersoup. That should take care of both natural occurences. (By the way, Natural Occurance is Mr. Shoes' word for the natural occurence of farting & doodoing).

After that, I will HAMMER. By the time I'm through with him, he will be sure that he knows me. Sure, he may be a little bloated, but the end will justify the means, no? Oh, the things I do for love!!! Let no one ever say I never showed Mr. Shoes any love.

And You Called Me... Why???

When I left Nigeria, I did not own a cell phone. My mother did not own a cell phone, and my father did not own a cell phone. In fact, no one in my household owned a cell phone. There was not - to my knowledge - anything like caller-id on home telephones either - not that it mattered anyway. We did not even own a home telephone either, now that I think of it. I don't remember why dad never put one in. It was one story or another about NITEL. In retrospect, I now know that dad was guying (fooling) us. The point is that even if we did own a home telephone, there was no way to tell who was calling before picking up the phone.

But with the introduction of cell phones, calling changed. I was so happy to know that my family and friends in Nigeria all owned cell phones and I could now call them at any time and vice versa. Of course, that excitement lasted all of one week, two weeks maybe. Who had the time to call people - especially with a calling card - all the time? This feeling is a lot easier to understand if you reside on this side of the border.

But strange things started happening. My [cell] phone would ring and then stop. Ring and then stop. Ring and then stop. Over and over. And over. And over. At first, I thought the connection was bad. It was only later that I learned this was a new phenomenom that was sweeping the nation. It was called, Flashing. For the American, non-Nigerian readers, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this flashing isn't what you think (possibly hope?) it is. This Nigerian flashing is when a person calls you, lets it ring once or twice and then hangs up before you pick up. It's like beeping you - except that you do not want to be beeped, which is evidenced by you not owning a beeper. Now, imagine someone flashing you over and over and over and over .... at 3:00 AM. Yes... feel the anger. LET IT BURN.

Since I did not own a cell phone in Nigeria, perhaps, I do not know the etiquettes of calling. For those who know, please answer the following questions: What exactly is the purpose of flashing someone? Is it to say, "Hey, just thinking about you?" Is it to say, "I'm too low on credit, so I can't call, but please call me back?" Is it to say, "I figured you'd be deep in REM sleep, so I thought I'd disturb?" Or is it what I have been thinking? The caller wants to say, "I'm in dire need of someone to get mad enough to kill me. Is this reason enough for you to send hired assasins after me?"

If a person owns a cell phone and knows how to dial international numbers on it, I'd expect that the person also knows that all the nations on the earth do not see the sun at the same time. In other words, just because the sun has just risen on your side of the world does not necessarily mean that everyone in the remaining four corners of earth - yes, I know the earth is round - is also seeing the sun. Case in point, Nigeria is currently FIVE whole hours ahead of some parts of the United States. I said some parts! That means that when it's 8:00 AM over there, it's actually just 3:00 AM over here, and you are NOT - I repeat, NOT - allowed to flash me incessantly for ANY reason.

No matter what the problem may be, there is nothing I can do for you at that time of the day night day night whatever. I am not God. I am not even Super Woman. So come what may, I cannot fly or teleport to Nigeria at that time. If money is the problem, Western Union is closed at 3:00 AM. If the transaction can be done online, I don't have the money. If I do have the money, I am flippin sleeping!

But it gets worse. Sometimes, the number of the person flashing me does not even show. All I see is unknown number or private number. Sometimes, it's just a blank screen and call is the only thing that is displayed. Yet, the unknown keeps flashing ... and flashing ... and flashing ... and flashing. No amount of anger, irritation, and determination will give me access to this person to say, "Dude/dudette, seriously stop!!!"

There are times when the caller is someone that I know. By know, I mean someone that I may have spoken to once or twice - perhaps a friend of a friend.... of a friend. If this person had flashed me at twelve noon while I was sitting on a heap of calling cards with nothing to do but count the hairs on my head, I still would not have been bored enough to call back. Yet, this person had the audacity to wake me up - right in the middle of that dream ... in the best part of it .... for what?!?!?!

To hail me???

Pardon Me

I might have misled you a bit. Just a bit. Remember when I told you that I was just 21 a little while ago? Yes, yes... I mean when I nagged about age creeping up on me... yes, that day. Well, I also blogged about my upcoming birthday - a day I love by the way - but obviously, a new birthday means a new age. A bigger age.

The point is ... while I was typing away about my upcoming birthday, I may have given the impression that said birthday is in a few days - or at least a few weeks. Did I forget to mention that my birthday is actually on January 14th? Silly me! I have to say that this is the first time I have started receiving birthday wishes from August! Tobenna even wished me a happy birthday in arrears. Nawa o! It's either I have misled you or you all are an enthusiastic lot! Yeap.... definitely enthusiastic :=)

Speaking of birthdays, how can I conclude this post without wishing our very own Nefertiti a very big happy birthday!!!! Neffie, it's 12:00 sharp. Technically, I am the first to say happy birthday. You never said I had to be the first to say it over the phone. So happy birthday once again. I have not forgiven you for having a baby before you even told us - your blog family - that you were pregnant, but that's by the way. I'll try not to mention it today. Wairraminute!! Did Neffie close down her blog, or is blogger on crack this midnight?! Neffie, if you've closed down your blog, then I retract this happy birthday parahraph I just dedicated to you.

Now, I know you're all worried about what gifts to buy me for my birthday - yes, I know you want to get a headstart on it, but I assure you that I am working very hard on a list that will suit you and I very well. Despair not. I will not pick anything too cheap. I know how you just hate, hate, HATE it when I do that. It's just that sometimes I cannot help but be considerate. :-) Oh, well. Some people are just made to be nice i.e. me.

I finally got Nwoke Ocha back (on the 31st of August). For those that are confused, he's my laptop. His keyboard - amongst a few other things - was replaced. It turns out I've been doing a lot of typing. Me? Noooo!!! I only update my blog every three days, tweet everyday, facebook every day, write and reply e-mails every day, do some writing most days, reply comments on my blog most days too. That's not a lot of typing, is it? I bought Nwoke Ocha in October. It's amazing that between October 2008 and August 2009, I have damaged his keyboard. Nawa o. Perhaps, I need a laptop with a heavy duty keyboard. Ideas, anyone?

Please, please, please... help me welcome Rosie to Blogville. She was one of my co-hosts for the 'Female, Accomplished, Over 30, and Single' show, and she has joined us on Blogville. Yay!! Go over there and make her feel welcome. I said make her feel welcome. I didn't say chase her away with you kolomentality.

Dear Massage Oil

It's not funny anymore.

Seriously, it is so not funny anymore. I have had you for YEARS now. Your first owner, Funmie gave you to me several years ago, and you were exactly this size when she gave you to me. The only difference between then and now is that you have collected dust and dirt from sitting on my dresser, untouched.

I am hurt that no one - man, woman, child, beast, or stuffed animal - has even glanced at you and raised an eyebrow. For years, I have thought about all the fun times you, I, and someone else could have, but for years, no one worthy has shown his face, so on my dresser, you have remained...looking at me, looking at you.

I have taken the liberty to study your label today. Apparently, you're scented. Scented, huh? For a scented oil, you stink! I don't know if you stink because you have been sitting on my dresser for years or if you stink because you have always stunk, but either way, you stink. Well, you don't stink that badly, but you stink - for a scented oil.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that Funmie gave me this massage oil. At this time, I know you must be wondering any, some or all of the following:

1. Why on earth did you take a hand-me-down massage oil from Funmie?

2. Why did Funmie even give the massage oil away? Was the problem with the oil or her partner in crime (who could either have been the massager or the massagee. Yes, the term Masseuse does come to mind at this time, but massager makes for a better Verastic term. You know how we at Verastic dot com can be.)

3. Forget about why Funmie gave the massage oil away. The better question is who did Funmie use the massage oil with? In other words, who was the mysterious massager/massagee?

4. K.Y. huh? What else does Funmie have from K.Y.?

These, of course, are your questions - not mine. This is not me projecting my questions on you. Nooo!! I wouldn't do that. That said, does anyone know the recipe for frying plantain and cooking stew with three or four year old massage oil? And if you do, send it along with the antidote for eating such a meal.

~ Written in a state of euphoria + ecstasy. Nwoke Ocha is back from the hospital. And they did not mess with his hard drive. Life, after all, is good.

*Wink, Wink*

I Was Just 21

Is it just me, or does a woman's age begin to speed like light once she reaches the age of 21. Once upon a time, I could not wait to turn 21. 21, to me, was the real legal age. The problem with turning 21 is that 22 immediately follows - and then 23, 24, 25, 26, 27 ... 114... and before you know it, you're wondering where all the time went. I feel like I just blogged about my birthday. Yet, as it is now, another birthday will soon be upon me.

Today is the last day of August. I do not know about everyone else, but the 1st of September, for me, marks the beginning of the end of the year. And the end of the year marks the beginning of a New Calendar Year and a New Birth Year for me.

At this point, I am very well aware of the thoughts that are running through your mind right now, and trust me, I am just as worried. What on earth are you going to give me for my birthday?!?! Ah, I don't quite know myself. This gift-receiving thing gets more difficult each year. Let's not forget what happens exactly one month after my birthday - Valentine's Day!! (February 14th). A shy smile creeps up on my face each time I think of this year's Valentine. But I digress...

I really was just 21 a little while ago - or so it seems. Now, the memory of being 21 is so distant. I don't even remember what I did for my 21st birthday. On another note, the people at Best Buy said Nwoke Ocha will be ready today. I'm not going to wait for them to call me. I'll just go there by myself and demand to see my boo, and he better be doing great. Can't wait to rub my fingers all over him.

The Silly Things We Do (5)

No matter how hard I try not to laugh, I feel like there is always something funny going on in my life. Somehow, I find myself surrounded by people that say and do funny things - even when they don't mean to. Apart from my dad, only one other man has made me laugh till I have tears in my eyes. But today's post is about my dad.

My mother enjoys baking. She's one of those women who love baking cakes, frying chin-chins, bons, and puff-puff, and baking meat-pies. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less about baking and all that ish (but I do love eating them all, of course). Why suffer to bake stuff when I can just buy them?

But I think my dislike/disinterest in baking and frying snacks is my dad's fault. Yes, dad's fault. It all happened several years ago in Nigeria. I was about 12 or 13. I was curious about baking a cake - even though I had no recipe whatsoever. I pretty much knew or thought I knew everything that went into the cake (flour, eggs, milk, sugar, butter, nutmeg, can't remember what else), but I didn't know in what particular order it was supposed to go in. Did it matter? Anyway, mom won't let me use her oven. She did not want me to waste her gas.

So what did I do? After mixing my cake, I poured it into a metal bowl, and then, I placed the metal bowl in a boiling pot of hot water. It was kind of like making moi moi. I don't know if that cake still qualifies as having been baked. Maybe it was cooked. Or boiled. Anything but baked. It was not baked.

Where does dad come in? Well, dad was my boyfriend, you know. I used to pet him like he was my man or something. I used to clip his nails, clean out his ear wax, and wash his clothes. Whenever he fell asleep on the couch, I was there to put a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body. Dad said I would make a great wife. [Hey, his words not mine.. but I don't disagree, of course. Hehe]. So that day, I could not wait to have my boyfriend (dad) taste my cake - a cake I loved by the way.

Dad sat at the table, and I served him a psychedelic slice of cooked cake. Mom, my cousin Nachi, the help Ngozi, and I were all gathered around dad, waiting for his judgment. It was as if my heart was in my hands. I could not wait to hear the verdict. Dad took a bite, churned, swallowed, took another bite, churned, and swallowed again.

Then while still holding the cake in his hand, he said, "This is nothing but akpu and sugar..." After which the entire family - except me - fell out laughing.

...And there, my friends, is the reason why I don't bake! Yes, that's my story, and yes, I am sticking to it!

The Silly Things We Do (1)

The Silly Things We Do (2)

The Silly Things We Do (3)

The Silly Things We Do (4)

I've Got Good News!

Or maybe not...

For starters, I told you about the waist vs hips phenomenom. Men prefer women whose waist is 30% smaller than their hips. Unfortunately, mine is just 23% smaller than my hips. You can read that post HERE. Secondly, I brought you news that at the age of 27, a woman's fertility begins to significantly decline. I am yet to receive thank-you e-mails for that by the way. You can read that post HERE. Lastly, I brought news from Uju, my med-student friend: she said that for each child a woman gives birth to and breast feeds for a year, she decreases her chances of breast cancer by 11.4%. You can read that post HERE.

So I spoke to Uju again, and she gave me more news. I'm starting to unappreciate her med school. According to Uju (who learned this from her Professor), the most attractive a woman would ever be is when she is the age of 22-23. Obviously, 22 is more attractive than 23. It seems like 23 was only added there to make us feel better. But for people like me that are past 23, it makes no difference.

If you are not yet 22, then lucky you!! You can look forward to being 22 and extremely attractive. For those that are already 22, make hay while the sun still shines. For those that are 23, make serious, serious, SERIOUS hay while the sun still shines (and is about to do down for good). For those that are past 23, oh well!! All we can do now is use enough foundation (popuarly known as pancake by our Nigerian men) to make ourselves look 22...or 23 at least. Some lipstick, eye pencil et al will help. Hmm, I wonder if anti-aging lotions come into play at this point, or should I wait till I age?

I don't know about you, but I'm really sick of receiving news about women from Uju. How is it that they never say anything about the men? Don't tell me they don't have some issues of their own. Seriously, all this time, I thought I was my most attractive right now. I mean, when I look back at past pictures, I think to myself, "I look wayyy better right now than I did before," so how is it now that I'm hearing my most attractive age has come and passed me by.

**SIGH**

Uju is only responsible for the news about breast feeding and the news about attractiveness, but all in favor of shutting her up, say AYE!!

Life Without My Nwoke Ocha

Nwoke Ocha = White Man.

My Nwoke Ocha is sick and in the hospital, and since his admission in the hospital, life has just not been the same. I never knew how much I relied on him to get things done until he fell ill. I haven't seen him all of today. I didn't see him all of yesterday either. He got admitted on Wednesday, and since then, I have not been myself. The situation is grim, but I have been praying and trusting God to heal him, so that he comes back the same way he left - without the illness, of course. Oh, my Nwoke Ocha, hurry home!! I miss you something wicked.

I know this post is supposed to be about my Nwoke Ocha, but permit me to vent for a minute here: whose bright idea was it for women to menstruate AND be bloated while at it??? Okay, fine, I think I know whose idea it was. But seriously... this is soooo not funny! Ms. Flow came yesterday, and today, I am in a very pissed off mood. I'd like to think I am pissed off because my Nwoke Ocha isn't feeling well, but I know that is not the real reason.

Here are a few comforting words to describe how I am currently feeling: Angry. Pissed off. Bloated. Uncomfortable. Irritated. Moody. Emotional. Restless. Really, really pissed off.

The only thing that is worse than being pissed off is being pissed off and not even knowing why you're pissed off. I was just on the phone with Busola and everything was fine until that discomfort under my abdomen started again. All of a sudden, I was about to bite the poor girl's head off. There is no reason why I should be feeling like my waist is vibrating! And this is not the kind of vibration that comes with a happy ending. Speaking of that vibration, I ought to discover it sometime in my lifetime, no?

*****END OF VENTING*****

So Nwoke Ocha is ill. Did I tell you that already? Perhaps, it'll help if I stop mentioning the name and just say who the heck he is. He is my white Sony laptop - hence the name (which was given by Mr. Shoes, by the way...). My laptop went off and won't come on. They think it might be the motherboard. Darn Best Buy people don't give loaner laptops (even though I even paid $300 insurance on the laptop, and it's not even a year yet..). Seriously, Best Buy sucks!! And I think that is just one more thing that is pissing me off right now. I'm using mom's laptop, and it sucks that I have to keep going incognito whenever I'm checking my blog (or visiting any site that has "Verastic" in it.) Wouldn't want mom finding this site or its many, many relatives. Of course, it's almost a fool's dream that mom would never find this site because I blog with my real name.

In less than ten hours, Verastically Speakin will go LIVE. Do tune in. We'll be talking about women who are in their 30s, accomplished, and single Speaking of that, I think I need to call up my co-hosts and make sure we're all on the same page. ---> And that's another reason why I'm pissed! Why the heck have I not called till now (the 11th hour)? Anyway, the show will be LIVE in less than ten hours. Don't miss it. Fear not. I'll be mighty nice while on air.

Lastly, AfriPRO Houston, in collaboration with African Business Council of Texas brings you the Houston Africa Business Expo 2009 --> today, August 22nd 2009. Watch the video and click HERE for more details.

For The Love Of Tigeress

Verastically Speakin Talk Radio will be airing on Saturday, and we'll be talking about women who are accomplished, at least 30, and single. It's gonna be hawt!! Tune in www.blogtalkradio.com/verastic And if you have any comments on the issue, you know where to reach me ---> radio@verastic.com

I'll be co-hosting with Good Naija Girl, Rosie, KC (a guy), a girl in London whose real name I cannot disclose at the moment because I don't know if she wants it disclosed, and... Tigeress! Yes, our very own Tigeress. I e-mailed her and begged her to co-host, but the girl - such an extortionist! - insisted that we meet face to face. So meet, we did.

On Friday, August 14th 2009, I had a busy day, but I made it all the way to see Tigeress (even though she was about 40 minutes away from me. Yes, this is love), and we met. The babe is fine ooo! And I got to play with her birthday hair. But we forgot to take pics. Some other time.

On my way, my face looked just the way I felt: tired. So while I was driving, before I got to the tunnel, I took the opportunity to do a little make-up. Make-up here = only eye pencil. There is a reason why we are advised not to do make-up and drive at the same time. The way the eye pencil was drawn everywhere but where I wanted it, it looked like I had suffered two black eyes on one eye. Even I, was afraid of myself. I was eventually able to wipe it off and make it look descent. All for the love of Tigeress, of course.

When I was almost on her street, I had to park and turn my hazzard lights on. Why? My magic lip gloss was missing! Okay, it's not magic per se, but it's my favorite, and I wanted to put it on - just for Tigeress. Alas, that did not come to be. I was stuck with vaseline *sigh*

I planned on leaving at 8 PM (cause I just had to be home in time to watch Monk @ 9:00 PM), but that didn't happen. You see, Tigeress took a liking - more like a "loving" - to me and practically went down on her knees and begged me to stay. As the kind-hearted person that I am, I couldn't say no. How can one say no to that birthday hair? So stay, I did.

We were going to get chicken from some Naija joint, but that didn't happen. Tigeress found interest in something someone else. Unfortunately, I left 10 minutes before her friend came back with the chicken. My only regret is that Bumight went there after me, and I fear that she ate what would have been mine. I hoped she will choke on it, but she's still tweeting; I think that means she did not choke. One of two things could have happened: 1 - She didn't eat the chicken. 2 - She ate the chicken and didn't choke. Aaaahhh.

Well, that's it for now, folks!! Be back Saturday.

P.S. This Saturday show is attracting a lotta attention. I wonder why. I may or may not be getting two more co-hosts. Hey, the more the merrier, right? But boy... so much estrogen! Thank goodness I have a man on the show too. A little testosterone to calm my their nerves.

I Wish To Go Back...

It's funny how when you're a child, you spend everyday dreaming about becoming an adult. When I was a child, that was my number one problem. I needed to become an adult, so I could do so many things. I wanted to wear make-up. I wanted to have money. I wanted to paint my toe nails. I wanted to be in the University. I wanted to talk to boys without hiding. I wanted to get married. I wanted to have children. I wanted to live alone, have a job, and be in charge of my life. I wanted to grow breasts and have my period. I wanted to go out at night and party till dawn. I wanted to be an adult and not be forced to go to bed at 9:00 PM. I wanted to stay up till dawn. That was my problem: I just wanted to be an adult.

So now, I'm an adult. I have not accomplished some of those dreams, but I have accomplished most. I have a drawer full of make-up. I can paint my face anyway I want it, and I have gotten quite good at it, if I do say so myself. But sometimes, I don't even feel like doing it. I have money - compared to how much I had when I was a child. But I'm still broke. It's like the more I have, the more I need. I paint my nails any color I wish. Lime green. Hot pink. Turquoise blue. Whatever floats my boat. But nail polish color is no longer an issue. Who cares the color I paint it?

I am in the University. Sometimes, I feel like dropping out. Too much driving. Too many assignments. Too much stress. I can now talk to boys any time and anyhow without anyone complaining. The problem is that I don't want to talk to boys. Boys are no longer an issue. Been there, done that. Next ===> I am not married yet, but I still want to be married. Perhaps, I obsess over it more and more - largely because it is an obsession I have grown to fancy. Either that or my booming-career obsession. Oh, there is also the one about going to an all-you-can-eat suya joint. I do not have children yet, but I already have plans for them. I'm already taking notes on how not-to raise my children. I have a job, but I don't live alone. I can't actually afford living alone at this time, but if I could, I wouldn't. That'd be one more ish to worry about.

I am in charge of my life, but I'd rather not be. I'd rather relinquish the charge to God. It doesn't feel so good being in charge of myself. Too many responsibilites. Too many things to think of. So I'd rather have God do all the thinking while I do the living. After all, He is able. I am not. I have obviously grown breasts - way bigger than I even imagined (need a picture?), and I now see my period - sometimes twice a month! This Ms. Flow that I used to cry and wish for, I now wish she'd not come so often. Wearing a pad for five days and having blood gush out from between your legs in not very comfy. Too graphic, I know. Sorry. It doesn't help that my waist feels like it's vibrating when Ms. Flow is around.

I can party at night - all night - till dawn, and I get tons of invitations to do so, but suddenly, it doesn't seem so appetizing anymore. I'd rather just go home and climb into bed. I can now stay up till dawn (instead of sleeping), but I'd rather not do so. I find myself begging for sleep. Right now, my eyes are a little red. I ought to be sleeping, but it's the third day, and Verastically Livin' must be updated. *singing* Sleep, sleep go away... come again another day ... little big Vera wants to write.

These days I have new worries: money - I'm broke... I need money to do this and that. School - I'm tired of it. Wanna graduate already. Too many assignments here and there. Work - don't feel like going. Would rather sleep in. Career - when will it take off already? Will it ever take off? What if it doesn't? God, I don't wanna be a liability on my future husband. Husband - that's another thing to worry about.

Aaaahhhh.... what I would give to go back to being a child. I just want to worry about obtaining the permission to paint my toe nails any color I want to. Want to go back to having a hot pink plastic lunch box with a pretty Jasmine Princess designed on it, packed full with a sandwich (or a little plate of fried yam/plantain) and a box of ribena. Want to go back to assembling in the school hall and reciting how and why children should be in school by 7:30 AM. Want to go back to my canary yellow blouse and grey skirt uniform, completed with an extremely white pair of socks and a pair of brown sandals. Oh, and the hair too. Who can forget the weaving hair styles? The "chookoo," the "police cap," the "upside down basket," and my personal favorite, the "love come down" style.

Ah... the days of sheer bliss!!! JJJ

Happily Single & All That Other Stuff...

Happily married ... of course!

Happily single ... what?

Yeah, that's what we're talking about on the radio on Saturday. Set your reminders! Saturday, August 15th 2009 :: 10:00 AM U.S. EST/ 3:00 PM GMT time

Has everyone heard last Saturday's show? It was so much fun that the show became full and couldn't take anymore calls. It's so unfortunate that so many people were scrambling to hear my very sexy voice, but couldn't get through. Oh, life can be so cruel! Or maybe it was full because there were so many women tying up the line, tryna hear the voices of the men I had. Shameless. You all are shameless. But who can blame you? I was giddy too. The last time I had so much testosterone was uhm --- uhm --- never! If you haven't heard my men tell us what men want, just check out the audio player on the right sidebar. Or you can download it HERE.

P.S. If anyone still wants Ekene Agabu's number, home address, social security number, date & place of birth, age, height, weight, favorite color, and of course, most importantly, favorite toothpaste, I'm here to help .... for a very minimal and convenient fee of one bottle of any of the following perfumes ===> Pour Femme by Bvlgari, Romance by Ralph Lauren, Miracle Forever by Lancome, Nina by Nina Ricci, Rock n Rose by Valentino, Diamonds by Emperio Armani, and lastly, Vera Wang by Vera Wang. Vera is my homegirl!

Next week Saturday (August 22nd), I'll be doing the show about women who are 30, accomplished, and single. Amazingly, I still do not have an actual co-host. I have potential co-hosts, but nothing definite yet. I have come up with five reasons why it's so difficult to find co-hosts:

a. All the single 30 year olds have now regressed back to being 29.

b. All the singles have gotten married since I scheduled the show.

c. Ever since I put statuses on Twitter & Facebook, all the single, 30 year old women have vanished off the face of the virtual earthd (so they know nothing of this upcoming show that I write of).

d. They want to co-host, but they don't know that I cannot read their mind. They do not know that I need them to contact me ASAP ===> radio@verastic.com 1-443-934-9039

e. None of the above. According to one beautiful, single, 30 year old woman, they're just "shocked that they're 30 and single..." If that be the case, please come out of the shock! I need you.

Look, peeps, snap out of it and contact me. I have begged. I have asked. I have cajoled. I have pleaded. What the heck else am I supposed to do here? I'm short of demanding that every woman show proof of age and marital status. Don't make me....!!

Tune in on Saturday. I'll be co-hosting with Ezenwanyi (and Funmie, maybe).

P.S. My apologies for not having replied the comments in the previous post. My spirit has been willing, but my body has been very, very weak.

Kokolette 1 & 2

Has anyone had the misfortune of watching the Koko Mansion? I read on Bumight's blog that she watched it, so off I went to watch it too. Before I started watching it, I was alert and oriented X 3 (times 3). I was aware of my name, the time, and my location. Five minutes into it, I forgot my location and time. Barely remembered my name sef. Yes, it was that boring! A buncha girls in a house doing nothing and living in peace & harmony. Oh, yeah...there goes the drama and suspense. And... there goes five minutes of my life I will never, ever get back. Great.

Skipped through most of it. I just couldn't handle it. Julius Agwu came in at some point and started misyarning. He said the show is not really about D'Banj, but rather about womanhood. Say what????? I'm not sure how 12 girls living in one house and competing for one man is about womanhood. The koko crew claim that D'banj is taking "the bull by the horns" and ending the debate on what to look out for in an ideal woman. There goes your womanhood. Womanhood ko kokolettehood ni.

I can't be too mad at Julius for misyarning like that. He was paid thousands to come and sit there and misyarn, so he's forgiven. I bet that as the words were leaving his mouth, it took everything he had to surpress a laugh. Bet he was thinking, "Chei Julius... you sabi lie ooo!" Enjoy this episode. If you fall asleep and knock your head on the table, just wake up and try again. The rest of the episodes can be found on YouTube.

Oh, and what's this I hear about Koko Mansion being over?? I'm just starting to get used to having a boring Naija show to catch online. And then they just take it off like that?? Some times you think you know people...

What Do Men Want???

Just when I thought the upcoming show on Saturday couldn't get better, it did!! Don't be found missing on Saturday, August 8th 2009 as I and THREE able-bodied, intelligent men discuss that which we [women] have all been dying to know: What Do Men Want? [Do I hear a yum-yum from the woman beings?]

For so long, the question has been, 'What Do Women Want?' It was [still is] so prevalent that an entire movie had to be dedicated to it. After watching the movie, I walked away with a new question: What Do Men Want??? So let's find out, shall we?

Before you read any further, do take five seconds to do that poll by the right sidebar. Now, if the poll is anything to go by, it seems like men want respect and good sex. My twitter friend, Kookie Jar was kind enough to direct me to Steve Harvey's book, Think Like A Lady; Act Like A Man. From there, I learned that men want three things: support, love, and sex.

Since I am not a man, I cannot say for sure what men want. For this reason (and also the fact that it'd be great to have a little loads of testosterone on Verastically Speakin'), I have the pleasure and honor of co-hosting with three men: Ekene Agabu, Christian [Chris], and Mustapha. Yippee!!

First, I have Ekene Agabu. He's a writer and a speaker whose distinct focus is on sex and relationships. Yes, that's his picture on the left. Yes, he's very nice. No, I don't know his marital status - yet. For those that have inquired [about his marital status], tune in on Saturday; ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set ye free!

Second, I have Christian [we can call him Chris]. He's quite opinionated, and not at all conservative. I will try my best to warn Chris to keep it clean. Oh, he speaks French. Oh la la. Unfortunately, I don't have Chris's picture - yet. I'll update this if I get one. I do not know his marital status either. But together, we can find out.

Last, but not least, I have Mustapha! He has a lotttt to say! I know his marital status, but I'll let him say it himself. So tune in on Saturday. He'll probably be the middle man between Chris and Ekene. Or maybe not. Saturday will tell. Unfortunately, I do not have Mustapha's picture either. If he sends it, I'll definitely update. Watch this space.

There is still time for questions/comments. If you have any questions/comments for me and/or these men, e-mail them to radio@verastic.com Alternatively, you could text your questions to 1-443-934-9039. Include your name and where you're writing/texting from.

In case I have not said it before, Verastically Speakin Talk Radio isn't just about me. In fact, I don't think it's about me at all. That said, I am always looking for new co-hosts. If you're interested, e-mail radio@verastic.com or call 1-443-934-9039. If you have an idea for a show that will be hawt, please send the idea ASAP.

I am still looking for co-hosts for the Female, Accomplished, Over 30, & Single show. If you're interested in co-hosting with me, contact me RIGHT NOW. If you're wondering about the criteria, read this.

The Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio airs every Saturday @ 10:00 AM U.S. EST time/3:00 PM Naija time. Visit www.blogtalkradio.com/verastic to listen and join the chat room with other listeners. Or you could just listen and/or call in via telephone: 1-646-929-1905.

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If you're my friend on Facebook, click HERE to read people's comments/responses about what men want [from women]. Interesting stuff.

Email: radio@verastic.com

A Priest Has Been Reading My Blog!

That said, I know that he will also read this post. But at this point, it cannot possibly get worse.

On Saturday, Mom gave me the phone. She said Father John Doe (not his real name, obviously) was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. He heard my radio show. That automatically made me very uncomfortable. So I spoke to him. He commended me on a job well done, asked me how often I do the show, etc. I was very uncomfortable. I really don't like discussing my blog, articles, and/or radio show with grown folks.

But it got worse. Oh, yes it did. Imagine my discomfort when he talked about the oral sex bit. Whew!! He said I was laughing about it and refusing to take any side [refusing to say if I'm for or against oral sex]. Why on earth did he find that post? Why didn't he find the post about when I rededicated my life to Christ? Or my Thanksgiving post? What about the one where I quoted the bible and said that faith without action is dead? And where I said it's so ironic how God takes care of me all the time. What about when I called God a romantic?

Why, why, WHY did it have to be the one about oral sex?!?!

On that note, I also need to tell Mom to stop helping me spread the gospel of my radio show. Mom knows I do a radio show every Saturday morning. What she doesn't know is how she can listen to it, where she can listen to it, and what the heck it is that I talk about. I intend to keep it that way. Imagine my mother listening to me talking about size. Nooooooo!!! This is one familiarity I don't want to have with my mother. We have already watched glorified porn together. That's good enough.

She told her sister, my favorite aunt - who happens to be a Deeper Life Church-going born again Christian - about my radio show. My aunt bombarded me with questions. I tried my darndest to dodge them like arrows. What is the show about? How do you do it? What do you talk about? Do people hear you? So people call in? So do people ask for your opinion? Who do you do it with? What radio station is it on? It's online? What website is it on? How does it get online? So you have a private conversation with someone and make it public?

Oh, darn!! I don't need this right now.

Well, I told her the website is Blog Radio. She doesn't need to know the rest of the link. I told her we talk about relationships. She doesn't need to know about that episode that addressed the size of certain body parts. I told her a few people call in from Maryland. She doesn't need to know that people call from America and other continents for that matter.

Well, there. That wasn't too hard now, was it?

***Little prayer: May the Holy Ghost Fire destroy every temptation my aunt has to google me. Amen.***

In case you have not heard, the Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio intends to be hot this Saturday! Oh, yes, it will be. Our topic of discussion: What do men want? Seriously, what the heck do they want?! And co-hosting with me is none other than Ekene Agabu. He's a writer and a speaker with a distinct focus on sex and relationships. Oh wee!! Yum, yum!! Click on his name to visit his website. And for the ladies that are wondering, no, I do not know if he's single. Fear not. I'll find out - all for you. You see the hoops I jump for you? Don't say Vera has never done anything for you. Click on the show title to go to its page and set up a reminder. You don't wanna miss this!

Talk To Me

I have never been female, 30, accomplished... and single ... all at once. I feel a deep obligation to stress at this point that I am currently female, have always been female, and will always be female. That said, there is an epidemic out there. Women of all backgrounds, races, nationalities, and tribes are suffering the case of Manlessomnia. As one who has suffered this illness before, I can say it is so not funny!

Looking in from the outside, it is easy to say that women who are accomplished are the problem, but one never really knows. Each situation, I believe, is as unique as the woman in it. I do not know for sure what the problem is, but I'll sure love to find out!

My Mom, God bless her heart, has a thesis - which I should say I completely disagree with! A married female medical doctor (in her middle/late 30s) asked Mom if she knows any single, Nigerian men. Apparently, the doc's friends (who are also all in their 30s) are all very accomplished and also very, very single. We're talking Manlessomnia X3. Okay, I digress...

Mom came home all worried and heavy-laden. When I asked her what the problem was, she said, "Young Nigerian women are wasting away. No husbands to marry them," I should mention she looked a little too sad for these women's predicaments, considering that she does not even know them [she only knows their doctor friend]. Anyway, mom's well-thought-out thesis? Young Nigerian women are single because ALL the young Nigerian men are now gay.

I don't know about you, but this is a hard pill for me to swallow. I know there are gay Nigerian men out there (contrary to what we would like to believe), but I doubt if their gayness is correlated to these women's Manlessomnia. But what do I know? I'm just a girl who sits in front of her laptop and makes up words like Manlessomnia.

There is a reason I bring this up right now. I have scheduled this as a show on Verastically Speakin Talk Radio. If all goes well, we'll be discussing this on Saturday, August 22nd 2009 (10:00 AM U.S. EST/3:00 PM Nigerian time). BUT! Here comes the aha moment. I need co-hosts for this. The show will run only if I get co-hosts. Yes, co-hostS. As in more than one. Three, to be specific.

Here's what I need:

2 female co-hosts (You have to meet the criteria, please: female, accomplished, @ least 30, and single)

1 male co-host (You also have a criteria to meet: If you have mingled with a woman of the above description, you're good enough for me. It doesn't matter if you dated successfully or not. Whatever the story is, bring it on!)

So if you're interested, please e-mail me: radio@verastic.com I'll take the co-hosts on a first-come, first-serve basis (that's if anyone comes, of course. LOL).

P.S. Your nationality/race/tribe does not matter at all. This is not a Nigerian problem; it's a female problem. And I need serious, open-minded, and talkative people. It's a talk show, so we need to talk.

Thank you, darlings!

*Manlessomnia:
an acute
a chronic case of manlessness that causes many, many, many sleepless nights.