Tuesday, November 24, 2009

These days...

These last three months have been one of the most horrendous of my life. And I really tried not to let it show up in my blog cos let's face it, this is my happy place.
I was posting more on Facebook than here. But I noticed that some of my friends equally stopped posting anything meaningful or actually left Blogger entirely. Sucks.

I am in Enugu right now visiting the parents and one of the things that gets me crazy is the internet connection.
Hey, I am a virtual animal and the minute you mess with my connection, you mess with my habitat hence, with my mind! Please, don't mess with my mind. The connection is effing slow. Enugu is not actually a village but the last time I had a slow connection in Lagos- ...
Please, someone should do something about this one city state thingy.
Enugu is cool. I love the ambience. Heck, I grew up here.

So yesterday, you should have seen me in my skinny tank top and my short shorts and flats strolling down the street. Yeah, the looks I got. One city's hot chick is another city's prostitute. A dude in some 'jeep' actually stopped to pick me up. I kept on walking like he and is car weren't there.

Didn't stop me from wearing another pair of shorts, shorter than yesterday's, and a sleeveless long top to the cybercafe this afternoon. Free me, please.

I remember my Grandma always screaming at me each time we went to the village, 'Girls don't wear trousers at home (village), it's alu (abomination).'

Maybe in your time, Grandma. But these days with the kind of skirts in vogue, a pair of trousers seems like the most decent outfit some girls will put on. Even in the village. Every girl is something hot these days.

Speaking of hot. The weather is like living on Mercury or Venus right now. Yeah, I visited those places in my former life. Actually had this boyfriend on Mercury, he had flaming red hair, literally.

See ya.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Tick tock tick tock, goes my heart
Slam, bang! Slam, bang!

Do not look a gift horse in its mouth
Cos from it's teeth you can tell its age.

Serendipity is a mother...

I guess I am not good at expressing myself
And even worse at writing an intelligible poem


To all my avid readers, the blog would be active again soon.
I am just still camatose on my back from too much loving, I guess.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Give me a minute...

And I'll be back.

Yeah! Would miss you too!

Friday, October 16, 2009

Accidental Boyfriend

I am one of those that don't believe in Love.
I don't much believe in anything actually.

So after the one night stand, months later, we are still together.
Nooo, it's far from being a love thing but the fact that we are still together...

it might just end tomorrow so that I can go on living my loner life... go back to being the observer... the outsider always looking in...

things are happening to me, things i don't like or care for- and it's messing with my chi!

i am in this low place and it's affecting me all over. so if i am not blogging as much as i would like to nor commenting on all y'all's blogs as often as I would love to it's all part of this thing messing my mind up.

And no it's not love nor...

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

This thing called Love

Like seriously this Love thing is not what it is cut out to be.

I've fallen in love like only once in my life and even then I went in with all my eyes open- no blind love for me. In fact, I stood rather than fell in love. That's me. I am cynical like that.

I took everything the dude said to heart so that when I found out that he had been messing me around, I messed him around too. In the end I hurt him more than he ever hurt me. Did I also say that I am evil like that? I am the kind of person who can cut off an arm if it means you'll lose both arms, both legs and your head.

I was reading Sugabelly's blog and thinking wow! all that energy...

One of my good friends has just been messed over by a guy she dated for five years. He left her to marry a girl who got pregnant while he was still dating my friend.

If that happened to me... well, I would just drink a vat of wine and move on to the next that same day. I can't kill myself. Love is not all we came to do on this earth. We came to live; love or not that's what I'll always do best.


Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I love...

I love pop music, soft rock, r n b... none of the hard stuff for me. Okay, I love a bit of rock but would definitely not stand for hardcore rap or metal rock (I think).
huhn?! wat's dat?!

I love all those songs they play on movies. You know the one they play when the girl is on the train running home to her parents, trying to look for a change of life (13 going on 30)
Or the one when the man tries to tell his wife why he kept his dancing class a secret from her making her think that he was cheating on him and causing her to set a detective on him (shall we dance).

I love all those soft rock and alternative they play on high school movies. SCHOOL'S OUT FOREVER! (The faculty, just before the teachers started decimating their students. Jon Stewart was still skinny in that movie and got it in the eye.)
I love Avril Lavigne, Cold play, Green Day, Nickleback, Maroon 5, three doors down and plenty plenty others.
And then the movie favorites like The All-American Rejects, Hilary Duff...
But I looove Nickleback.
I wanna be a RockStar. Trésor the Rocker.
One day, maybe. Dreams do come true.

I love them cos they help me think, dream, imagine... place me in a mellow mood.
My newest discovery, Yahoo radio

Oyiboo no get wahala. No boasting, no bling bling, hate anthem.
My girlfriend left me, that would make a good song about Sunday mornings.

I no fit shout.
The painkillers finally did their thing. Well, almost.

And then this dude Jason Mraz.

I have this crazy back ache. It's on my upper back. Like what the hell!
And the most annoying thing about my situation is that people keep asking me with a stupid smirk on their lips and a wink of a silly eye, 'What did you do?'
Why is it that anything that has to do with back-ache or pain has got to be sex-related?
Why isn't the blandest reason ever the culprit?
Why is it that no one ever asks me- How did you sleep last night? ( okay that' s not a better question.)
or Are you sure it has nothing to do with your bed? Which, in a way, it has.
Actually, it has more to do with the couch. I have been sleeping on the couch lately. The Roomate is out of town and whenever he is and I have to stay in the house alone, I always fear to sleep in my room. (Baseless fear, I know) I usually sleep in the sitting room.
My dad often says, The couch is not a bed.
Truer words have never been spoken but- too late!

Now I have got this horrible back pain.
Everything that I do that has to with the chest area hurts. I speak, it hurts, I sit, it hurts. I cough -and oh man do I have a bastard cough- it hurts.
I have taken these mad painkillers and am hoping for a reprieve but IT'S NOT COMING FAST ENOUGH!

Oh my back. *sob*

Sunday, September 20, 2009

My Dad and I

I hung out with my Dad yesterday.

He was like- Take me out and let's do stuff you do on a Saturday.
- Like I go to my boyfriend's house on some Saturdays, would you like to come along?
- Stuff you do on those Saturdays you don't go to see your boyfriend.

I was all decked out in red and black. Red and black strapless bustier dress- the top was red and the skirt red and black tartan, black gladiator sandals, black beads around my left wrist, red earrings.

'Your outfit is making so many statements that one can easily get confused' was my Dad's 'compliment'.

I wore a black bolero jacket over the dress before we stepped out. My dad wore jeans.

Took him to the cinema and we saw UP. We were like the oldest kids there. And about a dozen viewers. We ate popcorn, laughed our heads off sometimes and smiled wistfully some other times. I think my Dad even blinked away a tear or two.

We took in some pizzas and chicken wings at Debonair. Soon as we entered, I felt this exhilarating sensation like I was playing a joke on everybody and they were probably thinking My Dad was my Sugar Daddy. Then the old dude had the not-gumption to leave his glass case with his glasses in it behind. He was already at the car and I tagging along way behind when a waiter fella runs out and says- Hey sister, your Dad left his glass case behind.
For some perverted reason, I wanted to roll my eyes and intone in my most uppity voice- He's not my dad.
I just smiled and asked, 'How did you know he's my Dad?'
'Is he not your dad?' the guy asked back
'Oh he is,' I replied and judging from the look the boy gave me,I felt like I had made everything even worse.

We ended the night at a cool seaside place with a live band.

I was reading something in Elle about kids whose parentage are kept away from them. You know kids born or raised in secret or something like that- the most famous being Jack Nicholson who didn't know his sister and mother were actually his mother and grandmother till after their deaths.

I have always known that my dad is not my Dad, ever since I was a kid and this knowledge used to irk the hell out of me. Say the truth I once snapped at him, Say you are my real father.
And he gently replied, Of course I am.
And of course he is!

I have never missed not having a bio-Dad. In fact, I think Bio-parents are over rated. Mere biology does not make anyone a parent.
Take my mom for example: She dumped me at the age of five with this man whom I love so much to whom she was married for two years before doing the split. That was after she had dumped three other kids with her mom before coming to Nigeria to seek her fame and fortune.
Still infamous, still unfortunate.
Some kids do have them.

I have got the best Dad in the World full stop. We even look alike. He's fair like me, or is it the other way round. We hang our heads at the same angle when we are asking penetrating questions and we pronounce some words the same way. We even like the same kind of foods like pizza and chicken wings.

Of course, I asked about my real Dad. He's dead they told me. But I later found out that he was some foreigner my mom tried to sink her claws into but he left her before she managed even to pierce him with them. (Long story, not telling.)
I really don't care- about him or her for that matter. Like I said bio-parents are over-rated and love often has nothing to do with DNA.
This my real Dad, he's perfect and a blessing to me in more ways than I can explain. With him, I can never miss what I never had. He's my best friend, my boyfriend, my sugar-daddy, my everything.

Did I mention yesterday was his birthday?

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Long thing

That's how Thaddeus come and impregnate one girl in our area.

One girl: Thaddeus, come I want to see you.

Thaddeus: Wasup, baby.

One girl: I am pregnant.

Thaddeus (laughing): You can't be serious, I used a condom.

One girl: (loud laughter and clap): See this one o. E be like say, you are the only one who no know say condom no be guarantee.

Thaddues: Oh so since you are obviously one of those in the know, why didn't you get backup.

One girl: Backup?

Thaddeus: The pill or something.

One girl: Pill?

Thaddeus: Look I don't have time for this shit.

One girl: Where are you going to? I say you give me bele and you are woking away.

Thaddeus: So what do you want? Money for an abortion?

One girl: Abortion ke? You must marry me ni.

Thaddeus (SUPER BIG LAUGHTER): Marry you. (More laughter. Eyes tearing up.) Are you serious? You want me to marry you. (Almost choking now.)

One girl: (sulky silence.)

Thaddeus (clears throat): You for talk that one since before I even fuck you. Okay, no problem. you want me to marry you abi?

One girl: No be say I want you to, you need to. Me, I no fit do abortion o. What if I die? Abi you don't know girls use to die ni.

Thaddeus: Okay, calm down. No problem. You wan make I marry you abi. Well, since it's all because of the pregnancy, first of all, you have to take a pregnancy test.

One girl (waves a lazy hand): Small things.

Thaddeus: Okay. Then you have to get a paternity test done on the foetus.

One girl: Pa-ta... Talk am again.

Thaddeus: Pa-ter-ni-ty test. It's a DNA test. You have got to prove that my DNA matches that of the baby in your womb.

One girl: Shey na blood group?

Thaddeus: Nope. D-N-A. You do know what a DNA test is seeing as you are so knowledgeable.

One girl: (Heavy silence. Then...) Oya, give me abortion money.

Obviously e don enter long things...

visit Untame!

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

About WW1, Hitler, New Jersey and New York.

So on Saturday, I just had to leave the house, get my groove on. You-know-wara-I-mean? I had had about enough of the Gees dropping around the place.

'Gee? Gee?'

Gee, that's what Lois calls the Roomate.

And then the giggles- tee hee hee- everywhere I turn. My bedroom door ain't sound proof, guys! Heck, the whole freaking walls in this house sounds like its made of tissue paper!!!

Someone invited me to a wine-tasting party. Yep, they actually have one of those in Nigeria. Actually, it was more like cocktails, a chance to get drunk with strangers and acquaintances.

It's like a billion years since the Boyfriend relocated to his country and trust me guys, ONLINE SEX SUCKS! Another name for it should be tease therapy.
Have got my pants all afire and this simpering idiot is not helping matters sauntering around the house half-naked, flaunting her sexuality and her roaringly active sex life. Bitch!

So when K, an old flame, invited me to the wine-tasting thingy, I just thought- a night without the Roomate and Sidekick, yipee!!!- and jumped at the chance with limbs and claws.

The whole night was actually disappointing and boring. Drinks and smokes- I get that scene at home already. So K suggested we step out into the night and once again, I concurred.

We ended up at his place. I had promised myself, no more one night stands, but I was actually angry enough with the Roomate to go ahead with this and not to talk off horny as hell what with months of just Tease Therapy.

It was such a raunchy night. Lots of spit and clawing and biting. Scratching, gnawing, pulling, tugging, pummels and slaps on the backside! Pumping and pushing and banging and bucking and ... It was War!
... and so ferocious that just at the end of WW1, K's little man was aptly baptised Hitler.
It was "raid and rampage", "pillage and spoils".

In the middle of a well-earned pause, K took time to study the landscape, my almost statuesque body (of which I am proud, thank you very much). His men (hands) surrounded the two hills at the top of the valley and after overcoming the twin peaks, with his teeth and tongue he pronounced solemnly ' New Jersey and New York. Here's my New Jersey' he kissed right peak, 'And here's is my New York.' he gnawed on left peak.

Stupid names for breasts if you ask me.


I got home at around 2pm the next day and just had this urge to go naked and spreadeagled on my bed. Just spread my legs and let cool air rush over my bush and ease the still raging fire underneath.

K, if you are reading this, YOU ARE THE MAN!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


The Roomate has a galfriend.

Did I tell you before? Yes, I did. I mentioned her here.

It all started while I was away. Of cos, that's the only time it can start.
So I come back, and the guys are raving.

"Oh T, u shuld meet Lois."
Lois this, Lois that. And the one I didn't like- "You guys are so alike."


All the guys were raving except the Roomate which was pretty odd cos usually he can't wait to lament about and ridicule the dumb, inept girls he dates. But this time he was mute. And I didn't ask.

I met her and the first thing I thot was she looked like a toothache. I mean, she so sugary sweet, candy cute that you get a pain in ur mouth just from looking at her.
She's also weird. She has this penchant for shorts, mini skirts, mini dresses, boob tubes, strapless everything, painted toenails, anklets and wristbands, thongs, sandals, junk jewelry, Rhianna razor cuts et cetera, et cetera. The only thing she does not have is a tattoo. She probably does somewhere very silly.

She tends more to giggle than laugh. And for all and how girly-girly she looks, she's a tomboy. She drinks and smokes as well as them amongst other things (I don't smoke). I heard she has four brothers. Big deal.
And then she has this thing for cars. She has like three. My first thot when I heard about her car moves was "Runs chick" but I heard her Dad is loaded and her brothers too. She owns this restaurant and a nightclub.

Who cares. Pshaw!

She is nice o. And that's the problem. She just flaunts her money around.
"Let me get this, let me get that."
Femi is already getting irritated which is a good sign. By the time we all nag, she would be out. I mean these guys work for their money and are loaded too. Maybe not with Dad's ceaseless dough but they are self-made dudes. And then this girl comes with her condescending attitude.
Like they really need a girl to pay for stuff for them. Foolish B.

The Roomate does not say a word when she's around instead he smiles like one fool, looking all bashful. Dumb ass!
At night, he receives all these childish midnight calls. And whenever the crew is together and she's not there gate-crashing as usual, she calls and then the Roomate will smile and disappear for hours to receive her calls. If it's at night, he goes out to the compound to receive them. She must be doing something right if he's willing to face all those mosquitoes just to talk to her.

And then when she sleeps over. I have to turn up my radio real loud to block out all her giggles... and more.

Arrrrggghhhh! INVASION!!!

I've watched them come and go. And forget it, this one would zoom off like the others. Real soon.

She's too... me. And there can only be one of those at the Fame Lodge.

On Sunday we all went out and she and I were standing beside a car waiting for the guys to get something or the other. Then someone comes and asks, "Are you sisters? You really look alike."
Duuuh just cos we were both wearing shorts though hers were tighter and while I was wearing my usual baby Ts, she was wearing... I can't remember jo!
I mean, some people shaaaa. I just eyed the person, hissed and walked off (Blind bat!) while the idiot giggled.
"Really, you think so? No actually, she's my boyfriend's sister."

Sister?! Was that what they told you? It will shock you nau!

Soon and very soon.


Sunday, August 16, 2009

So just for the fun of it... I am putting up a post whose title is actually longer than the main body... n to make it worse, I am dropping the first -


Sunday, August 9, 2009


Head-banger is the name we call our oyinbo friends who can't dance but nod their heads vigorously to almost any song, especially rock songs.
They nod -bang, bang. And then jump- hop, hop. Shake their heads- shake, shake. And their bodies- wiggle, wiggle. Then they scream-ARRRRGHHH!
And this has got absolutely nothing to do with the story I am about to tell you.

So this weekend, the crew decided to go out and I mean really go out, not just hang out at the local beer parlour or our usual place on the Island. We chose to go to Ikeja instead. You know one of those places that look like somebody's very respectable home until you enter then it can become anything from a gentrified hang-out to a strip joint. But we went to one that was in-between. It was your usual club with the life band and the over-priced drinks and the over-priced suya and the very, very over-priced cat fish.

The Roomate, Femi and I and one unwanted addition to our group whose tale you shall be hearing pretty soon were there around eight/ nine waiting for Larry. He had taken a detour to to a certain hostel to get some undergraduate prostitutes (sorry, but let's call a hoe a hoe). Apparently, he had promised Femi one too. I didn't know before we got there, I had gone there with the idea that Femi was actually my date so that what later unfolded filled me with more pleasure than you can imagine.
Vindictive pleasure, muaha ha ha, how sweet thou tasteth?

Femi had gone off to pee by the time Larry finally arrived. The two girls he brought with him where so flashy that if NEPA had struck at the moment of their entrance there would have been no need to put on the gen. They were that bright and obvious- with their lipsticks and their eyeshadow and their glittering shoes and spaghetti straps (or whateva they call them these days.) Everything about them just screamed- screw me, I am cheap. One of them was so skinny that if you actually put her on a scale without makeup the needle would barely flinch. The clothes on her were so flimsy that it wouldn't count either.

Larry did the introductions then covertly indicated to the Roomate which one was for him and which one belonged to Femi, in case of a mix up when Femi came and he was off for beers. It was then that it dawned on me that I was actually going to be the only date-less person. I started to seethe and rain curses inwardly at the stupid Femi. Okay, Femi is like my best friend and if he were to stick with me as his date for the nigh,t there would most certainly have been no show for him. Still to give me over for these red-light district residents. Thunder fire his head! Oooh and did it thunder and lightening too!

Larry had just left the table for beers when the skinny one stretched out her witch-like claws to pawn one of the Roomate's cigarettes. The Roomate smiling inanely like someone high on breeze was leaning over to do the gentlemanly thing and light her up when Femi came back. Femi was so excited to see the extra bodies at the table that I am sure he peed again but this time in his shorts. In fact he was indeed very excited that immediately he sat down, he jumped up again.

'Seyi,' he screamed.
The Roomate, startled, almost burnt the poor girl's face.
It took us a few long weird moments to realize that Femi was referring to the fleshier of the two girls. I mean, judging by her blank look, the girl herself did not know that he was talking to her. It wasn't until, he marched around the table and pulled the girl up from her seat by her arm that it occurred to us that something was really wrong.

'Seyi', Femi shouted again. He looked so angry that I thought he was going to have a heart attack. I guess he was already having one but we all didn't know it then.
For all the drama that Femi was acting, the girl was looking as bewildered as any of us at the table and funny enough, she was acting all calm and nonchalant like, "Who is this wierdo?" and not like "WHO IS THIS WIERDO? HELP!"

'Seyi,' Femi yelled for the third time. Then, "WTF are you doing here?"
'What do you mean?' the girl blustered trying to pull her arm out of his grip. 'I don't understand what you are talking about. Do I know you?'
'Do you know me, abi?'
And before any of us could say what the hell is really going on here? (too long) Femi had dazed the girl three times.
'You don't know me, abi?' TAWAI!
'You don't know me, abi?' GBASH!!
'You don't know me, abi? GBOSA!!!

In fact we all at the table were so shell-shocked that we didn't know how to react. The Roomate just stood up with his mouth agape. His date had her hand over her mouth. While I- mehn, I was loving every moment of the unfolding drama- just sat staring, waiting for more action. It was the skinny girl who reacted. She got up and gave Femi a mighty shove that caused him to stagger backward and topple over some chairs. I swear, her size really belied her strength.

It was then that Larry came back with a waiter bearing beers. (It was the waiter who helped Femi up.)

Confused, Larry looked around and asked for some explanation about the turn of events. Like we actually knew what the hell kind of bee had just stung Femi. It was the skinny girl again who shrilly screamed some explanation into Larry's face at the same time asking him what the hell he had brought her and her friend into.

By the time she was through, Femi was on his feet even though he was being held back by the waiter from finishing the poor girl who was now hiding her face in her hands. (Mehn those slaps were hot!)
Larry turned on Femi, upset, 'My Guy, wat's all this? You don already dey beat the chick wey I bring for you?'

And that's when Femi finally exploded. He literally leapt at Larry's throat.

'Chick wey u bring for me! E no go beta for ur Mama!' He grabbed Larry by the shirt collar and GBOSH!- head butt. 'Na you go fuck your sister!'

And that, my friends, is how Femi came to be known as a Nodder or in our circles, Head-banger.


Saturday, August 1, 2009

Like seriously, WTF!!!

Someone has finally decided to marry me.

Ah mean... WTF!

I wonder where this stupid Roomate gets his stupid friends from!!!


Duuh, my name is Trésor not Treasure, even though they mean the same thing.

"Treasure, I am going to the East this weekend, give me your father's address in the East I want to go and see him."

Please read the sentences in quotes with a thick Igbo accent. Except my replies, of course. Read those in the most detached, bored tone you can muster, heightened by a note of incredulity. For the Roomate's tone you can assume the dumbest one you can muster.

"Why, Anthony, why do you want to go and see my father?"

"Because I want to marry you. I want to go and ask for your hand in marriage."

From my father, how quaint? Really, I was so shocked that I didn't reply him at all. Instead I gave the Roomate a dark look as in "Is your friend for real?" No, make that- "Is your stupid friend for real?"

The idiot (now I mean the Roomate) first looked dumbfounded then amused.

"Serious, Anthony" - He pronounced it AN-tow-ny, the way the idiot who owns the name pronounces, trying for the pronunciation he hears in movies- AN-t'ny as in Cockney.

"Serious, you want to marry Trésor."

And that was when the stupid AN-tow-ny started blushing! As in, for real?!!! What the heck!!!

"Yes naa. I want to marry her naa, she's a fine gal, naa. So, Treasure, give me your popsie address naaa?"

"My Popsie?" I asked

"Yes naa."

"Well, my "popsie" does not stay in the East. Last I heard, my popsie is a Russian and he lives in Russia."

"Eh na true o, I don forget say you no be Nigerian. Oya, give me your Papa address for Russia. Make I go there go find am?"

And he was serious too.

What the hell! Na so dem they marry?!!!

Ah mean, WTF!!!

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

If you can't beat him...

I remember one time when I had this boyfriend that was a game freak! I mean the guy liked to play games. You name it, he plays it. Computer o, board o, ten-ten o (Wande coal's type not the one little girls play.) As a pet-name, I called him Game-boy.

There were times where we would be lying down in bed just, you know, hanging out and his lappy would be opened to one game-site or the other- sudoku, scrabble, yahoo games- anything to distract him sha!

I would complain and complain.
"You need to give me attention." "I looove attention." "The Diva thrives on attention."


One day, I went to Bilkis' house just after she got married, I went to spend the weekend. There was this premiership match on TV and suddenly, there sat Bilkis analyzing football. She was rapping names and jersey number, strengths and stats, in fact, she sounded more savvy than the Commentators on TV.

What! Bilkis since when did you start liking football, talk less of knowing Chelsea and Squadron.

I mean Bilkis and I used to be one of those girls that biffed other girls for pretending to know anything about football. Most of these dull girls know jack. Their fanship for a club only lasts as long as their current boyfriend who happens to be a fan of that club.

Ha! Chelsea! Blueeess, Blueees! Up Blues!
Ha! Chelsea is going to play today, I am going to wear that my blue jersey and my blue arm band and my blue jeans... and your blue bra and your blue pant!
You know, with girls, every occasion is a good one for making a fashion statement.

That's how the Roomate tried one mgbeke that used to come around with her boyfriend to watch match at our house.

"You say you like Arsenal"

"Of course naa, gunners for life!"

"Okay, name three players there apart from popular ones."

Exam question! You should have seen the way the girl strained her face like she was about to drop this big constipation-like shit.
For where!
In the end the strain was replaced by an idiotic grin.

So when I saw Bilkis dumping stats that day like an MC on a crazy mic, I felt betrayed. Oh no! Not Bilkis too.

But Bilkis gave me this explanation for her betrayal.
'My sister wetin I for do. My husband loves football. when his club is playing he ignores me. In fact, in that moment if I yarn anything other than what is going on on TV he almost bites my head off. So I learnt to love what he loves. My sister, if you don't want to be ignored, you had better get involved.'

Involved, yeah but not to the extent of becoming holier than the pastor! The last I heard, HiTv is thinking of recruiting Bilkis to become a commentator for one of their premiership stuff.

Back to GameBoy.
I mean the guy's love for distraction was the undoing of our relationship.
Later, after we had broken up, I narrated my ordeal to the Roomate.
'And so?'he asked 'You should have learnt to play scrabble.'

My people looking back now, I am thinking, really, maybe I should have. I could have been going for international competitions by now. Or at least, I would still have had him. Looking back now, I am thinking: except for the game thingy, he wasn't all that bad. He was a real bull in bed- that is whenever he finally managed to close the lappy and get it off the bed!

Monday, July 20, 2009

Color or tongue really shouldn't count.

You know, when I first moved in with him, the Roomate had a sugar mummy. She was tall, dark and handsome and 12 years older than him.
Tall, dark and handsome cos she was one of those ladies that look like guys. She had a deep voice too. I think she was a transexual, if there's anything like that in Nigeria.
Ok, ok, I hated her. very obvious!

She got on my wrong side from day one. (long story, I hate long stories so I'm not telling it)

But when I heard her story, I really started to pity her. (that happens all the time. you hate someone, then hear their story then you start to think, maybe I could have loved him after all. yeah right!)

So this lady, when she was much younger had the singular misfortune of falling in love with someone her parents did not approve of- an Igbo guy. He was her university boyfriend and they dated all through or almost. She was Yoruba (the Roomate is Igbo, so seems like she has a plain affinity for Igbo dudes regardless of Mom and Pop's feelings about that.)
In the end, the parents frustrated the hell out of their love. The Igbo dude left the country and fell in love with a white babe abroad. Sugar Mummy remained stuck with her tribalistic parents.
She decided not to marry at all and became so rich that no man would marry her even if they wanted to. It's the same old shitty tale, middle-aged spinster with shitty blind parents who ends up becoming an anathema to all she meets.

Really, I don't understand the tribal crap and I abhor people that get all so "your-people".

Dick or Kitty would still be Dick or Kitty irrespective of color, tribe, religion or size for that matter.
You've got to find the one that suits you and stick to it no matter what anyone says. Because whether it's called Toto or JT, bottom-line is the happiness it causes you. Hold it tight and don't let any sadistic parent do you over.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

An ode to ME!

I went out on a date
And was forced to wait...
Yup! I don turn rapper
That's the new skill I learnt while tying wrapper.
Nope, I didn't go to the village,
Just soon after I celebrated another age
I know where I went
And hint* hint* I didn't stay in a tent
So where did I go?
It's for me to know
n for you not to
cos it was so impromptu
I had to just blow
And so hey-ho

Hey! My name is Trésor-Marie Lekado (pronounced Trayzor-Marry Lokado)
I am a Diva! (You already knew that) and my role model is Lady Gaga which is wierd considering the fact that I am probably older than her! (my real age and not the fake one I am tooting on Facebook)

I love only two things in this life- My humble self and Red wine.
My ambition? To be the last single lady of my generation. (I hope I don't face stiff competition cos I actually know one or two others-nope, make that a dozen others- who share the same ambition)
I am actually a single mom which really means I have a child but does not necessarily mean I take care of him... on my own.

I like boys, hate men and love my Dad which is really weird, I mean the fact I love my Dad but hate men! Really, go figure!

My pastimes are drinking, sulking and playing yard football (another weirdness considering that I hate football)
You see, with yard football (which is football u play within the compound with the distance between the huge gates acting as goalpost) what I really like is the tugging and shoving and the butting and grabbing the balls with my hands when I have had enough of the rubbish. I only let go when they beg and just stop from squeezing too hard so as not to cause serious damage. What the heck did you think I was talking about?!

My favorite things are my house especially my room, my TV and my lappy and of course MY CAR (sorry the last one always comes in capitals)!

When I grow up I want to be a SUPERSTAR!
I want to rival Dbanj, be the Madonna of Africa.
Oops! Nope, Brenda Fassie beat me to that! So I think I will be Mariah Carey but no breasts implants for me thank you very much. I like my size 34 Cees just the way they are. Find pictures of my boobs -suckers!!!- here

I wonder if Dbanj still considers himself Michael Jackson of Africa now that the fella is dead at 50. And seriously what is the connection between Dbanj and Mikey. I've never seen Dbanj burst serious moves on stage neither do I think he has enuff liver to be as BADD as Michael. Nah, the banj is certainly no Michael Jackson, not international enuff! But a pseudo-Fela? Now, that's hitting it on the knockers! And in that too, he is still not original. There are too many Pseudo Felas already, the most popular being Dede. so D'Banj why not just settle for being your Don Jazzy's-Alter-Ego-self!

So did I go there? Yep, I guess I did! And why? I really didn't know but just to let y'all know... I AM BACK like CHUCKY V!


Friday, June 26, 2009


AUGUST 29, 1958 - JUNE 25, 2009

we will chant forever.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

TLK 24

The Roomate stole my car at about 2 yday. Ofcourse, I went mad! Is he mad?!!!



And so on and so forth!

Around 4, he was still not back and then they started trickling in, asking for the Roomate. Apparently, I was supposed to be having a party. It was kind of a reverse surprise party where the guests come in and surprise the celebrant instead of the other way round.
In fact they came prepared, with their drinks and stuff but I wasn't feeling the party.
The Roomate still had my car.
I seriously thought of bashing his but couldn't find the keys, fortunately for him.

At about six, he returns with my baby which I have decided to baptise MY CAR (original abi?)

And there they were- the personalised plates

TLK 24

How lame?!

I could have done better!!!

We are now on speaking terms again so that's that!

The Boyfriend came around and he gave me a friendship ring. Everyone said congratulations like they think we are engaged. yeah right!
He is leaving today and I am going on a three-week holiday to nowhere!

I guess I am still hung-ova!

See y'all in three weeks!

Saturday, June 6, 2009


Today na my birthdaaaaayyyyy! (shaka shaka shaka) that's the sound of the shaka shaka they shake on Wazobia fm.
So wish me Happy Birthday. Or don't! Either way...

So far-

I woke up on the high side of my bed. TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!!! And I am 24. Happy Birthday to me, Trésor LeKado!!!

Gifts, Gifts, Gifts!!!
My Birthday is all about the gifts.
I got a vibrator from Bilkis (seriously, I think she needs it more than I do)
The Boyfriend is yet to give me a gift. In fact, I haven't seen him this morning. Well, wateva!
The Roomate gave me nothing though he wished me a perfunctory Happy birthday. That's his bizness.
So you see, the day started high, then went a bit low then suddenly it zoomed up on the scale!
And when I say zoom, I mean ZOOM!
My Car arrived like 8am this morning.
YES! and it's bigger and brighter than the Roomate's.
YES! Mr.Yellow did it!
I got a... wait for it!
DISCUSSION CONTINUES! (google dat if u can, this is not a brand promoting blog! oh wat the heck!) It's a HONDA ACCORD 2008 model! BRAND NEW!
So take that Mr. Roomate! You and your stupid 'End of Discussion!' The Discussion Continues right now!

So I got my wish and I cruised my car round the area. And I saw someone peeping at me, Ms. Bukky M., who else! I swear her eyes were green as I passed.

This birthday is my happiest ever, all my enemies have been put to shame and nothing can make me feel bad today- not the Roomate, not the Boyfriend, nobody!

I am seriously thinking of getting personalized plates. What do I put now? Let's see now...

How about...

Too long abi?! I need something wit number!

How about?

T- RAY- ZA - 4 - LIFE

No biff there.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Divas don't react, they act!

This week is going to be a bit eventful.
For one my birthday is coming up on Saturday. The Boyfriend is leaving on Sunday.

My Stepdad (actually, the only dad I know) Mr. Yellow called to ask me what I would like for my birthday and immediately I told him a car. I am still banned from using the Roomate's car except in the presence of an 'adult'. Well, I hope Mr. Yellow buys me a big car, like an Element or something, so I can rub it in the Roomate's face for so many reasons.
But knowing Mr. Yellow and his whole idea of me, I know he'll buy me a girly cute car like a- if he buys me a Picanto, I'll sell it off immedaitely. I think I should tell him that I would prefer a Bug.

Which is more expensive, Element or End of Discussion?

I call Mr. Yellow my aristo cos he acts like one.
I used to have this aristo back then in Uni. And when Mr. Yellow found out (via the Roomate, who else?) he hit the roof and almost had a heart attack. Since then, he makes sure to give me all I need so I don't slip back into my evil ways. In fact, the only reason he allowed me come to Lagos was because his wife, Aunty (the Roomate's mom, getting complicated isn't it?) convinced him that her son would keep a good eye on me. Considering that the Roomate has already proven himself once, the trusting man agreed and gave his little lamb to the wolf.

If I think of all the many ways the Roomate has betrayed me, I really should just sticka knife in his throat and get it over with.

The Roomate finally caught me with Donny. We were in the sitting room making out and I was only in my lacy underthings and going slowly down the guy undressing him when the man with the poorest timing in the world walked in. You would think he would say excuse me and walk out.
But noooo, he had to shout 'Trésor!'
To cut a long story short, he thoroughly embarrassed Donny and threw him out.
I remained calm, I am always calm, you know. When he came back in, I was covering myself with only a tee-shirt (mine) and wishing I had a cigarette. I only ever smoke when I am angry. It enhances my cool as ice demeanor at those moments. I would take a puff and blow it out in a long stream. I don't smoke so I always have to buma cugarette from the Roomate or his friends to pull this off but I was too shocked at the way Donny had meekly taken the Roomate's insults to move. But my anger was still as icy as ever cos when Roomate came back in, he just took one look at me and sat down, deflated. I wasn't giving him anything to rise on.

'You know he is married, don't you?' and his voice was accusing like he thought I really knew.
Anyway, I didn't but what if he was? The Roomate had some nerve. He used to date a married woman not too long ago.
Then to make matters worse, he brought up the Donny topic in front of the Boyfriend. And that one ended up taking it harder than I thought he would.

Indeed this week is going to be very eventful but not for the reasons you think. I am telling you things really are going to start getting hot in this house! Some people are going to start seeing my true colours.

But first of all, Mr. Yellow has to buy me a mighty expensive car.

Thursday, May 28, 2009


They are even (partially) my colour.
I am so happy!
You should have seen the way the Fame Lodge erupted... in groans!
ha ha ha!
The place cleared faster than at a fire drill.
All too soon I had the sitting room (with all the usual garbage of course) to myself as they went to drown their sorrows at the nearest beer parlor.
Devils indeed.
Holy Ghost fire!

Sunday, May 24, 2009


Nothing happened this weekend! Nothing happened this weekend!! And when I mean nothing happened, NOTHING!!! happened!

The Roomate went to Abuja Friday. Donny called and canceled our date on Friday evening at the last minute. How annoying! The Boyfriend had suggested on Wednesday doing something together on Friday but I had blown him off. When I called him as back-up he said he was feeling sick and wanted to lie in. I thought he was just sulking so I refused his offer to come and spend the night and ended up spending the the whole night alone, locked up in the Fame Lodge drinking and going bored out of my school. The drinking part was not so bad since I love me my wine. But drinking alone! That is so not cool; especially the morning after. You should have seen my bleary eyes. Then my breath! Oh my God! It was so foul it woke me up and I think I was snoring and I drooled all over the couch. It was one of the worst Friday nights I have ever had in recent times.

Then the Boyfriend called me on Saturday at about nine am (actually, he woke me up) sounding really sick. Probably malaria , he said. I had to drag myself off the couch to do the galfriendy-thing. We went to the hospital and he did have malaria and then we had to go to his house where I had to nurse him and pet him all the while wondering why Donny hadn't called.

At about 5pm I called the useless Donny. I was already thinking of a suitable excuse with which I could bail from the Boyfriend and finally, probably, have a fun weekend only for the inconsiderate Donny to come up with some stupid story of how he couldn't make it again and was so sorry, blah, blah, blah! Yuck!

I ended up spending the night at the Boyfriend's which culminated into another night on the couch channel-surfing and getting bored out of my skull while he slept in his room.
I hate the smell of drugs, the smell of sickness, the smell of boredom, the smell of betrayal, the smell of useless guys who all seemed to have conspired to ruin my weekend!
A Diva has got to have fun at the weekend. Don't they understand that?!

This morning, the Boyfriend woke up feeling all grateful. In fact, he was so grateful he wanted to have sex! Of course I said NO! I wanted Donny not him. And the nonsense Donny had switched to not picking his calls! Next I knew the phone was screaming 'Not available'. What?! A guy switching off his phone on me?!! Is he nuts?!!!

Maybe it was the malaria but the Boyfriend's brain suddenly went mushy and he started talking about the future: how he wants the relationship to continue after he leaves, how he is planning to come back to Nigeria in the nearest future- what for?! What for? I ask you.

Doesn't he get it? I have prepared my mind. I have moved on, onto Donny.The Boyfriend is like a fading story. What is this? I ask you.

And that Donny! What is his story?

Yuck weekend! Yucky, yucky weekend!

I am still at the Boyfriend's place doing the galfriend-duty. I think I have to 'shake bodi' this night, get rid of some of the excess energy that has got me going nuts!

And as for Donny, of course I am going to make him regret this weekend.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Trésor Unlimited!

You know how they say 'soldier go, soldier come'? Well, there has been a coup d'état.
Seriously, y'all were not thinking that I was actually going to wait for the Boyfriend to leave before I found me another playmate, did ya?
His name (on the blog, of course!) is Donny. And no, this one is not white though he is a bit foreign... in character!
He's one of the football fanatics that have recently been invading my house. He is supposed to be a friend of the Roomate.
Seems like he was aiming to be my friend all along. You know, I am now thinking, not all you football freaks are that bad.

Does Mr. Roomate know about this budding romance?
Wellll, not exactly! Though I think he is been catching some whiff of it here and there. The way he stares at me suspiciously after Donny and I have just exchanged what we thought were discreet glances...
Well, he had better hold his side and not throw a jealous fit on me, cos I have got a lot on him to go on. (ahem!)
Does the soon-to-be-gone Boyfriend know? Actually, he has no time right now. And why should he really be bothered? He is going back to someone so why should I remain alone?

The Roomate is traveling to Abuja this weekend...

Monday, May 18, 2009


You should see the Fame Lodge on football nights. My house has turned to a viewing center and I am not even making money out of it!

I don't even take part in their rowdy pastime and no one has ever thought of bringing a cold beer to my room talk-less of offering me whatever it is they happen to be messing my sitting room with yet they leave all the empty cans and food wrappers for me to clear up! Assholes. Chauvinist Assholes!!
Not like I drink beer, you know the Diva is not that crass. Nor do I eat any of those greasy things that happen to stain my furniture leaving me on my knees scrubbing off a dark stain that is so stubborn I wish I knew who exactly caused it so I can soak all his fingers in acid, so that next time, the football freak/fanatic would think twice bout messing up other people's homes! Gawd!!!
And the noise they make! Goooaaaaallll! Yee, pass it! Pass it now!!! Oh God! Ahhhhh!!! (like something really bad has just happened when all that happened is that one idiot with lousy footwork just messed up a good scoring opportunity. And so? I ask.)

SHUT UP! My door is not sound proof! Go to your effing homes and give your wives and girlfriends (or wateva) the headache you are giving me. Inconsiderate children-born-out-of-wedlock!

Don't they have TVs in their own homes? Flat screen, plasma or whatever it is called!!! DSTV?! HiTv?!! WTF-tv!!!
How much is it to watch football at a regular viewing center? What happened to Football clubs or lounges or whatever they are called?!!!
And the Roomate, he is like the Vince McMahon of Football nights. He acts like he created the premier league. The quintessential host encouraging their rowdiness. He is always the loudest of them all, Peter Pan to the Lost Boys!

One day, I am going to... do what?!

I need an idea for something wicked and extremly nasty that'll get them out of my house. It must be mean and permanent. I am still working on it and if you have any brilliant idea, feel free to communicate it.

But before then, I am thinking of writing a series of petitions to the appropriate bodies (which is...?) to get them to ban the projection and viewing of foreign football in Nigeria.
If we keep doing that, how are we going to improve our own local league?
You know what y'all are, you bunch of premiership-loving freaks? You all are simply unpatriotic and you should all be Gunned down and Manchested till you all turn Blue. Traitors!

Monday, May 11, 2009

So the Boyfriend is leaving...

Nope! I don't think so!

We didn't plan it that far. I guess since we both knew he was going to leave anyway we unofficially decided to make our relationship as light as possible. We had fun together which I guess, to begin with, was the whole aim of the entire business.
He has a girlfriend back home so he is probably going back to her while I go back to being the Roomate's side kick at every function he goes for and especially on club nights.

We'll probably write each other, I mean the Boyfriend and I, chat on Skype and do the whole webcam thingy. Then after sometime one person would start to feign busy and soon all we'll end up being to each other would be "a fling I had that one time in Nigeria."
My God! How depressing!

Will I mis him? A little but no biggy.

So as I am going to be free by the end of the month, I am open to applications.
Must be fun, carefree, chubby with silky black hair I can pull (doesn't have to be white!), an ebullient personality who is willing to be bullied sometimes, has puppy-dog eyes and tends to act like a lapdog too- running straight to his master (or mistress) when cornered by some barracudas in mini-skirts at a club...

I didn't just describe the Boyfriend , did I?
Oh well! Three more weeks to go.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Seriously EXaggerated activity

Bilkis got de-vee-d at 28 and that's because she got married at 28. (Everyone calls her Billie except for the Roomate n I; we call her Kissie.) It's not like she's particularly religious. I mean we were party-partners at skool and most of the coolest guys in school used to roll thru our room. She was just a strong girl with a stronger moral consciousness (whatever that means.)

She refused to give over her flesh to one guy whom she might end up breaking up wit two minutes later only to jump into the next temporary relationship -possibly wit a shorter lifespan- and before you know it she would have passed thru a number of guys who would have stolen all her essence and hardened her before she meets Mr. Right, the poor guy who would have to bear the brunt of her disillusions and disappointments. (I just quoted her argument verbatim!)

So she waited and instead lived out her fantasies through us, the weaker ones who could rather care less. And what a wait it was. I mean this girl is rather attractive, a chick in every sense of the word. She was a challenge much as she was a turn off to most of the guys who passed through her life. In fact, Bilkis ended up having more boyfriends and toasters than us who were giving it away freely like old supermarket stock.
Finally, she met this guy; rather I should say this guy met her. I mean there are still some guys out there who really go ga-ga over virginity. To the guy, Bilkis was like a surprise Christmas gift that is much more than you would have ever hoped for. He did everything to make sure she remained his. In fact, he went as far as making sure his mom- and the rest of the family- knew how special Bilkis was. The way they clamored for her hand then, like she was the last of a unique designer dress that everyone in a boutique is rushing to get but they were just lucky to snap up.

Wedding day came, then Honeymoon, then they came back from the special honeymoon trip.
'So Bilkis, how far? How was it?'
'How was what?'
'Your wedding night. Your first time. The sex.'
She smiled wryly, sighed resignedly and replied impishly, 'Sincerely? Well, I think sex simply means Seriously EXaggerated activity.'
'That's S-E-A'
'No, that's sex.'

And then, for whatever reason, I just felt sorry for her.
Knowing my Bilkis, there's no way she would go experimenting. That means a lifetime of seriously exaggerated activity for her.

But then, it's the same even for some girls who have had more experience, hence the phrase, "Sex is highly over-rated".
According to the Roomate only girls actually use this phrase So I guess for Bilkis' seriously sexually-inept husband, it was a win-win all the way.
And for Bilkis? Most likely she would be looking forward to a lifetime of romance novels- the cause and effect of female sexual disappointment, still according to the Roomate.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Trésor, Her Royal Purpleness

For some odd reason, I just seem to looove purple.
It calls me. It appeals to me. It makes me feel sexy.
It calms me. It soothes me. It makes me feel like royalty.
It defines my Divaliness.

Purple is the colour of royalty. I am royalty. I am a Queen. (You better believe that, babe!)
I am the Queen of all I survey. At least I am the Queen of Fame lodge! The Roomate calls me Her Royal Purpleness but he put his foot down when I asked if we could paint the sitting room royal purple- in acrylic. The dumb guy! Still, we got damask curtains with purple highlights.

My room looks like a tin of Turkish Delight with Purple playing a starring role.

My bath towel is a rich purple (now, why did I say dat?!)

My favorite pair of shoes is this pair of suede pumps the Roomate bought me for last year's Valentine.

My eyeshadow is Purple, my lipstck Purple.


My Favorite movie is Purple Rain!

My favorite song- Purple Rain.

And of course, I looove Prince ,His (Original) Royal Purpleness- before, during and after the time he was a mere symbol!
(Pretty Woman became my favorite movie just cos Julia Roberts sang Kiss in it!)

I have read The Color Purple like a bijillion times.

The only perfumes I use are the ones that come in purple bottles or are purple themselves hence most times I end up smelling like an arabian boudoir!

It was a glorious day on earth when I discovered pale lavender bathroom fittings. The tiles are a rich plum.

I only wish there was purple hardwood. My bed sadly has got the regular brown finishing.

I once only ate bread with black-currant fruit drinks so I could savour the rich purple sipping into the white of the bread! (Yeah, I know it's bad table manners to dip bread. That's why I don't eat with you!)

And if you think Purple is the only fetish I have, you best have a re-think.

I am a Freak- plain and simple; PURPLE only helps to give my craziness some colour!!!


Thursday, April 30, 2009

Dick can make you slap somebody!

Oh yeah, Dick can make you slap somebody!
I never knew that. I need to be slapping somebody right now!

Monday, April 27, 2009

The Boyfriend

I have a boyfriend o!
For all of you who are thinking all kinds of things between the Room-mate and me, I have a boyfriend!
He's French, round with a round tummy and round head. He has this smooth hairless face and silky hair that I love to pull. He's my age so you can't call him my aristo. Or you can if you want if it's based on him being white alone, it's a free world.

So on Friday, we went clubbing (as usual!) and like I said, I don't dance. He, on the other hand, loves to dance... or hop or whatever-the-hell-white-people-do-to-all-types-of-African-music-including-hip-hop and which is absolutely not dancing! He jerks around like a marionette and I absolutely don't like dancing when he does because each time I end up bursting into laughter and then things end up not being funny for either of us because the guy seriously thinks he is dancing!

And it's odd that I shuld laugh since I can't break a move to save my life. I can only wind seductively. But I've got some African blood so dancing even when it is badly done looks better on me than it does on him.

So there he was doing his 'I am possessed' routine and this akuna comes from nowhere n starts to get into his groove. Next thing she's rubbing her breasts all over his chest and then her friend apparates n starts to do the same to his back.
All this while, I was watching the band. The lead-singer was not only singing but was actually dancing. And I was thinking, now there's someone who can do it.
Suddenly, I felt someone rush at me, tug me off my seat and then plops into it jamming me on top of his knees. He looked towards where the girls were still standing looking stunned, pointed fiercly at me and mouthed slowly so that they could understand each word over the noise, ' MY. GIRL. FRIEND!'

Not understanding what was going on, I smiled at the girls inanely n tried a weak wave. One of the girls smiled back, while the other hissed and walked off.

For the rest of the evening I remained perched on two very uncomfortable legs. The boyfriend had his arms wrapped tightly round me for protection so I couldn't move. I ended up wiggling so much that a third leg popped up and that was when we decided to call it a night.

Have a good week.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


So if you are expecting to hear more on Bukky M., I am so sorry to disappoint you, I have busted that topic.

I am no Beyoncé or a Destiny child so I can afford to dis anyone I want on the internet but I am not going to dedicate the rest of my albeit free space online to them.
Luckily for me and for Bukky the slut, I went for a foroshoot (photo shoot) at Obudu over the weekend. I heard 'Edie' spent the entire weekend at our place. Of course, the only reason why she could do that was cos I was out of town.
The stupid bitch! I wish she could have heard what the guys said about her weekend in the Fame Lodge (that's what the Room-mate n I call our humble abode.)
Apparently, my friends have been passing my (ex) friend around.

You know that's one thing I don't understand about guys. Guys can be real pants! In fact, guys are more of sluts than girls. The fact that the Room-mate knew that Bukky M. had slept with two of his friends but still went ahead not only to sleep with her but allow her spend the weekend, makes my tummy turn.

You should see the stupid guys she slept with, including the Room-mate! At this point in time, he deserves to be called stupid and the amount of respect I use to have for him has somewhat decreased.
Not like I didn't know the Room-mate was a pant or a Dawg as guys like to call themselves. But even a common dog should draw the line when it comes to some kinds of things he sleeps with.

They were all exchanging notes and making lewd remarks. The more disgusted I looked the more uproarious they became. In the end, I had to walk out.
When I came back the Room-mate started accusing me of being a hypocrite; after all, I didn't even like the girl.
I may not like the girl but I am a woman and when I hear guys dissing a fellow woman no matter how slutty or rotten she is... well, it's plain disrespectful though this particular "woman" deserved it. How can you turn yourself into a towel, the type guys pass around in a locker room and then drop on the floor, step on it and walk away?
News flash Bukky M.: There's a big difference between having lots of guy friends and actually throwing yourself at men.
In the end, who is disgraceful?

I told the Room-mate how disappointed I was and I reminded him of the fact that I hanging out with him and his friends didn't actually make me "one of the boys" especially when it comes to some particular topics. Then he retorted that I didn't used to mind before listening to their conquests and that the reason why I minded so much now was because it was Bukky M.
That last statement didn't make any particular sense to me and I told him so.
In the end, since we are both not belligerent people, we agreed not to let something as inconsequential as Bukky M. spoil the perfect aura of friendship in our home and busted the issue.

But almost immediately, he began to complain bout the awful weekend they had spent togeda n wanted to fill me on the parts of the other guys' stories that I had missed when I walked out.

That's when I decided that it was one of two things: either I had become truly de-sexed in the eyes of the Room-mate or he was just a dumb insensitive chauvinist pig- plain and simple!!!

Friday, April 17, 2009

I hate Bukky M!

I hate girls!!! Girls in particular, Bukky M. in general!!!

  • Girls are too critical. They would criticize everything from your hair to your shoes.

'Why did you make this hairstyle? It doesn't fit you.'

For heck sake, it was packing gel which is supposed to fit every girl. That is why brides choose to do it on their wedding day. You can never go wrong with packing gel. But I guess Bukky M. knows better.

  • Girls always want to you show you that they are better at getting good bargains than you. (They are just cheap!)

How much did you buy these pair of shoes?
Ehn?! They cheated you. You can get it for 2,500

Where? At Yaba?!!!
Yaba is for certain people and Divas are definitely not one of them!

Girls criticise you for not having a constant boyfriend, for being a tomboy, for having too many guy friends yet no boyfriends.
Yet they hang around you for these same reasons. For free hook-ups.

I hate Bukky M. not girls!

Sh's not my friend! She's just a user. And she used me to get to the Room-mate!
I woke up this morning and guess who I saw feeling comfortable in our kitchen, wearing the Room-mate's boxers.
The slutty Bukky M.
The user.

Why are you living with a guy that you are not married to or even dating? Don't you know you are preventing other guys from approaching you?

Which guys?!!!
Please, which planet is this girl from? Venus?
Some people are stuck in their ways. They stick to stereotypes and are so narrow-minded, seeing the world only in the way they've been taught to see it.

Living with the Room-mate has not harmed my romantic life in any way; in fact, to some extent, it has helped to enhance it. What can I say? Man(male and female) is naturally a jealous animal.
Almost all Room-mate's friends have a crush on me. Most of them think I am his sister but once they find out that we are just friends... you should see the lengths some go to impress me. There are always guys out there out to prove something especially the fact that they can take you from your man! ( if you are desirable enough, which I am!)
The same goes for girls. Once they think that the Room-mate and I claim not to have anything between us, you should see the way they pull out all the stops to get his attention and prove that they are better than me.
So Bukky M., what are you talking about? like you are not one of the bitches.

And BTW who made you my mother?!!!

How about crawling into the beds of guys you are not married to all in the name of finding a husband? What do you call that, Bukky M.?
Slut. Edie!

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


So the Room-mate just bought a brand new car- an end of discussion or whatever they call it. All I know is that once I saw it, I thought to myself this is one sexy car. So just after two days of cruising in it, the Room-mate jets off to Abuja, leaving the keys behind.

Guess who then decided to test-drive the car.

I wasn't afraid of what the Room-mate would think 'cause we have always lived under this principle of 'my friend's property is my property' (esp when the property happens to be the Room-mate's.)

So, I took off on a solo date to the Island. On my way back, I got stuck in traffic. I was listening to good music and just generally enjoying the feel of a new car when the lights turned green. Suddenly, from no where, this car cuts into my lane, scratching and denting the brand-new, three-day old car!!!
The maniac didn't even stop to acknowledge the accident! The depraved monkey behind the wheel just sped off into traffic only to get stuck again after a rather short distance.

Immediately I felt the bump, my heart almost almost leapt out of my mouth. Then, the adrenaline started pumping through my veins.
'Not on my shift', I thought in anger.

Without wasting another thought, I went after the bah-gah (as my dad would say) and finally managed to cut off the insolent idiot at a junction.
The stupid bitch just sat in her stupid Picanto (what's dat?!!!) waiting for me to approach her!

'Madam,' I said politely 'Didn't you notice that you bashed my car?'
The shriveled-up old crone who looked like something out of a bad horror movie had the audacity to eye me, hiss and then raise up one stumpy middle finger, 'Eff you! You are too effing slow!! This is Lagos!!!'


Divas don't get mad but Bitches do. And sometimes, a Diva has got to be a bitch.
I stood stock-still a moment, then did an about-face, went round her car to the side of the road where I picked up the sturdiest, most efficient stone I could find.
Diva started scratching and bashing away at the side of mega Bitch's car.
The bleached piece of meat jumped out of the car and started to rush towards me, foaming at the mouth. 'Are you mad? Are you mad?'
'Pick up your own stone and let's see whose car will require the most body work.' I told her calmly being careful to keep my face to her.
In that moment I wasn't thinking but I was lucky she didn't take me up on my offer; how would I have finally explained to the Room-mate?

Luckily, some folks had gathered and they managed to restrain both of us before we went for each other's throat.
Some policemen finally came and after hearing the story, one just shook his head and said, 'Women!'
Well, like I am glad that they thought we were pesky enough not to be given real attention. They just hustled both of us into our cars threatening jail and a fine if we lingered any longer.

I made sure the mad woman drove off first before going on my way. And I was glad to see dat I had caused more damage with the stone than she had done with her front fender. That would teach her not display her bad manners to just anybody.

The Room-mate came back and even though the damage was not all that bad- I finally noticed that it was a small dent and just a mere one line scratch that wasn't even very long- I have still been banned from any where near the car till further notice. Meaning that we can no longer go tripping together. (sigh!) What a harsh punishment! And even after I had told him what I did to the other person's car!
No more free trips, no more free rides, no more hanging out with the boys, no more easy social life, no more...

I ought to have broken that stumpy middle finger!!!!

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Rule #21

Hung out wit the guys yday nite. Went club hopping, had a few drinks, some laffs and managed to move a little.

Diva Rules for Clubbing #7:Divas neva buy or get their own drinks.

All the guys were falling over themselves, as usual, to get me drinks.
'What would you like, Trésor?' 'Some more red wine,Trésor?'

Diva Rules for Clubbing #6: Divas don't drink beer (crassy!), malt drinks (poison!), sugary alcoholic drinks- so-called chick drinks (now seriously, drinking sugary alcoholic drinks and beer increase your chances of 'catching' a yeast infection and Divas don't do thrush or any other stinky disease for that matter!) or energy drinks (Divas already got lots of energy, don't need extra. Anyway, don't do much at clubs that requires energy. Seriously.)
Divas drink only wine- preferably red wine. Divas especially do not do any of those funny watery sugary fruit drinks which are passed off as wine just because they come in a wine bottle. Give a Diva some good old French wine any day, any time (literally speaking!).

Diva Rules for Clubbing #9: Divas don't drink, they sip.
So even though I had a bottle of wine to myself and a million offers to get me another one, I barely finished a glass.

I didn't dance much.
Diva Rules for Clubbing #5: Divas don't dance, they move.

You know that girl in Cardinal Offishal's video ft. Akon, Dangeruos? That was me. Okay, that was not me but she looks just like me especially in that tight black dress. And the way she walked, now that's what's called moving. When Divas move, they step aside to let us thru!
I slided up and down the boyfriend's body once or twice and that was it. Most times, I just sat in my seat, sipping my wine and watching others get crazy on the dance floor.

There was this one girl that danced so hard her wig came off. Obviously, she's not a Diva.
I don't do wigs. They pose very high chances of bringing on an embarrassing situation; especially, if what's underneath it looks like something you would find on the head of a street person in the early stages of poor mental health (a mad person for short!).
I almost choked on my wine when the wig came off and the funniest thing was that it flew across the room and landed in some obscure spot under a table. By the time she got it back, it had been trampled on by many unknowing feet. And the stupid raz chick! First she pretended to laff it off and then she tried to put the scraggly looking thing back on her head!
I don't know which was worse- the thought of her putting the raggedy wig back on her head or of exposing us to her Willy-Willy hair-do for the rest of the night. I would have really loved for her to cover up the frightening-looking, nausea-inducing weave on her head but at the same time, any sensible person could see that the wig was gone. It wasn't even hot-looking to start with and after being trampled...
Lordy! Some girls will neva be Divas. (sigh!)

I got home at about 2 am and at around 5 am, I woke up wit the worst case of runny tummy eva. I almost died.
It must have been that rotten Nkwobi I took at that local waterside joint where we stopped off in the middle of club-hopping.
Warning to self: Never eat greasy-yellowy-gruely-meaty-savoury thingy that is reputed to contain goat-brain!!! (Yuck!!! I only just found that out!! The Diva does not do brains ?!!!)

Luckily, the Room-mate (flat-mate) and I have separate bathrooms.
Oh, the explosive sounds - pata-pata-pata- like a backfiring motorcycle. And then, the stench! I almost blacked out on the job!!

But I survived. Had to air my room after that but that was after I had sprayed like a can of air-freshner in there.
Finshed off the rest of the sleep in the sitting-room.

Note-to-self: Need to revise my rule-book.

Diva Rules for Clubbing #21: No more beer-parlor delicacies for me, ever!

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