Archives

Ban All Beauty Pageants.

So, it’t about 11 p.m. and I just got home. Hence, I’ll waste no time and use no big words/long sentences in saying  I hate pageants.

It’s Sunday night and by now, i should be in my bed getting enough rest for the week. But no, I just came back from a pageant.

Now, I’ve attended a lot of pageants. More than is recommended for one human life. but hey, it’s my job and I should be happy attending them right? Never!

This pageant began shortly after 3 p.m. and ladies and gentlemen, it didn’t end till about 10 p.m.

I can’t even believe I’m typing that. I’ve been to some pageants that went on for hours nonstop, but this one tops them all.
There were eight couples competing for two crowns of Prince and Princess (Sort-of like the Virgin Islands’ Toddlers and Tiaras. )

Beauty pageants make no sense to me. What’s the point of judging people mostly based on external beauty. Some people might argue that most pageants (at least around here,) have talent segments as well as interviews to determine contestants’ intellect, but people, anyone can memorize and act. Others might bring us the most used excuse of pageants building self esteem… Shut the front door!!! You don’t need the public’s stamp of approval on your self esteem. If you can’t have a pep talk with yourself every morning and rub an extra doze of self confidence before leaving home, then my love, the public won’t and can’t do it for you.

I’d enjoy pageants a little if almost all the contestants didn’t have to be so rigid, stiff and fake. Every darn pageant contestant comes up with the usual nonsense of “I am your contestant number who-cares, vying for the prestigious title of ….” Shut up already. Let me determine if the silly pageant you’ve unfortunately signed up for is prestigious or not.

As if all the cliches associated with pageantry weren’t enough tonight, the amount of time they wasted ate my patience away in quantum.

Already, I’m not a very patient person and have zero tolerance for stupidity. The official photographer of this pageant tonight almost made me lose my christianity…. The silly man decided to have all the contestants of another pageant and allllllllllll the winners of every Tom, Dick and Harry pageant walk up on stage to take a photograph. Like dude, you have access to these folks, set up another time to have your photoshoot. (Not that your photos are great or anything… Yes, I said it. when you first began, you were the bomb.com. Don’t know if I can say same for your work now.)

I’m pissed. I’m going to bed.

Deal with any errors. Ain’t nobody gat time for that right now!

Ooohhh, so you’re pissed? guess what? I don’t care, I still hate pageants.

Advertisements

Bring Back My Shoe.

DSC_0204

Yes, I want my shoe back.

I’ve been back on my fitness grind and all excited with the little changes I’m seeing on my body. Needless to say, the results have been fueling me to keep going.

Hence, this morning, I got up early, packed all my work stuff, got changed into my work out wear and got extra clothes.(Plan was to exercise, shower at the gym then be at the office early)
I’ll be covering an assignment tonight and may not have the time to attend aerobics this evening.

I was all excited and was even thinking of which songs I’ll workout to when I get to the gym. The last step was to wear my shoes…

I found just the right shoe and

couldn’t find the left leg!

Certainly, this shoe has got to be under the couch on the porch.. Phssss, it wasn’t! Next, I thought my neighbors were playing a prank on me.

Immediately, I thought my Jamaican neighbor had it. I was sitting on the ‘throne’ this morning when I saw his him pass by on my porch.  I was convinced he had them and was even telling my landlord that the neighbor must stop being silly.

I got mad but not super mad. I was sure I’ll walk upstairs and he’ll just hand over my shoe. Again, I was wrong. He didn’t have my shoe.

My exercise plans came crashing down right before my eyes!!! I couldn’t workout this morning.

I’m mourning the loss of my shoe. It may look really old, ugly, big, uncool and all that nonsense, but I want it back! That’s my only exercise shoe! Bring back my shoe!

This pair of Nike sneakers has seen me through a lot. It’s seen me through one break-up, several stressful days and even many happy days.

 

I’ve done many 5 mi + runs with this pair. This shoe has anchored me on several socarobic and aerobic sessions.

The last time that shoe was seen was Saturday evening while I was cleaning my apartment. It was right in front of my door beside the couch. There was no sign of any suspicious activities going on.

I even wore it on Saturday to the gym. If I knew that was the last time I’d be seeing it, I would have stayed at the gym longer. This isn’t the life I bargained for this week. I hoped I’ll eat right, work out like a pro and burn a lot of calories! 😦

I want my shoe back!

Now my only guess as to the whereabouts of this shoe is- the neighbor’s dog must have been a bit too excited and ran off with my dear Nike shoe.
The first time I saw that dog, I didn’t quite like it. If you ask me, I’d say the dog is silly and stupid. How can a dog be too friendly to just randomly run to your apartment and want to jump on your lap? sigh.No dog, we aren’t cool. you can’t just run around the place like we’ve been friends. I mean, even the landlord’s dog, which i’ve known for years doesn’t dare come by my apartment without my permission.

Anyway, I think my neighbor’s pest pet, may have gone away with my shoe,

I want my shoe back 😦

Folks, I’m accepting donations for a new pair. While you all flood me with requests on how to donate, I’m also accepting free espionage services as well as intelligence on how

we can recover my shoe.

Vou

DSC_0209

Meanwhile, I got these yesterday afternoon! You needed to see me working out at the gym… I felt so flyyyyyy!

The Contender.

Girls and gentlemen and ladies,

So, after my two or so letters to the Nigerian Husband, I’ve had folks ask me if I’m not sure my letters are scaring the Nigerian Husband and most people just plain out want to know who the Nigerian Husband is….hahahha.. Keep asking…

There’s no Nigerian Husband really, but there is a Contender for the title (and he faces no competition)… I’ve always been under the impression that he doesn’t pay this blog any attention. ( I still think so. He only makes random appearance, or visits mostly when I send him a link and tell him he’s going to be drilled on what he reads.)

So yesterday, I felt like being a nag for no clear reason.. (You believe that??? Of course there was a reason… very insignificant issue- he always says.. I digress)
In an effort to shut me up, he asked “So when next are you going to write about the Nigerian Husband?” (The good man knows how to get me to calm down.

Can you believe The Contender and his guts? Haha… How dare he ask when I’m going to be writing my dear Nigerian Husband? Our correspondence is purely between the both of us and the frequency of such messages don’t depend or bow to outside pressure!

So, you Contender, keep reading and you’re sure not to miss any letters…

Amebo!

We Need to Talk.

Dear Nigerian Husband,

We need to talk.

In my last letter to you, I expressed my disappointment at the fact that you’ve decided to just lurk around while some boys who should be men disrespect your future Nigerian Wife.

I really thought you’d have a change of mind and finally show your face. How wrong was I.

This your unfair tactic is becoming somewhat bothersome.

I’m sure this isn’t news to you. But your behaviour on Monday at the Grantley Adams International Airport in Barbados has to be the worst!

You my Dear Nigerian Husband just stayed there hiding your face as I sat down to have lunch all my self. Listen, that’s not even what’s making me spit fire at you. You this well-mannered son of Nigerian soil hid as I had nothing but an up side down smile close to the departure gate, looking as one couple after another hugged and kissed each other.

The thing pain me no be small. That’s supposed to be us. I mean, I understand a lot of other Nigerian Husbands may not want to do such a thing. But I sat there loosing my appetite for the not-so-tasty pasta and chicken that laid in front of me, hoping you’ll just magically show up and kiss me goodbye as I went through the departure gate… But no, you well brought up gentleman decided to stay in hiding. (I wasn’t even being over ambitious in thinking both of us should be traveling together, so when those pilots decide to shake away their boredom in the cockpit by enjoying the turbulence, I’ll just feel myself in your embrace.)

Look my Dear Nigeria Husband, Let this be the last time you’ll do such a thing. Make yourself known. We’ve established all your good qualities, abilities and personality, allow me now to officially tell the world who you are!

This is your last warning.

Yours in marriage (eventually)

Your Nigerian Wife

For The Lungs

Gentlemen and ladies, girls and boys,

No kidding, this week, I got back on my running grind.

This time It is for real. Like no looking back, no procrastinating. All that is for punks… ( I can’t even keep a straight face while saying that coz I know I’m describing myself right there!)

I stopped running consistently sometime towards the end of 2013 and needless to say, the extra pounds found their way back to several parts of my body. I’ve gone to the gym since then and I think that may have helped in keeping me somewhat in shape and balanced.

However, the weight hasn’t gone down as fast as I want it to.

So I took to the streets…Literally.

After work on Monday, I got my running shoes plus workout clothes and headed out west. I was rather slow and stopped a few times along the 3-plus mi route, but I completed the run nonetheless.

The next day, Tuesday, I downloaded Runkeeper, an application that tracks your distance, the amount of calories burnt your pace and heart rate (I think).

Downloading that app gave me an extra push. That day, I was able to cover 3.8mi and stopped just once for a few seconds. The next day, I went over  4 miles and the same for Thursday too, without stopping.

I felt like a pro. Even though I know for a fact I may have looked like an idiot to people who drove by, in my mind, I saw myself like one of those long distance Kenyan/Ethiopian runners. In my mind, my body was all slim and trimmed, my legs stretching out in long strides, afro blowing in the wind, sweat streaming down my body, game face on…. okay, back to reality.

Considering I’ll be sleeping in town this weekend, I decided to go for a run this morning. I mean, It’s Saturday- that day you’re expected to sleep in and just lazy in bed right?

I was tempted to just stay in bed and not worry about exercising till Monday, but I remembered last night during a Skype conversation, my best friend Fareeza challenged me. She thought I’ll just put off running. I also remembered that I’ll be helping out with a BBQ on Sunday and of course, this means I probably will eat more than usual.

Though I was lazy and somewhat unmotivated this morning, I managed to complete 3 miles. I did stop and walked several times and for as long as a minute though.

Usually when I run or exercise, I think of phrases to chant or keep reminding myself of reasons I exercise. Most times during the aerobics at the gym the phrase to chant while staring at the mirror is “summer body! summer body!” Just kidding! (Not really)
And for when I run it is “pain is sign of fear living the body.”
But this morning, all of those silly new-agey phrases were thrown out the window. I dedicated the run to my lungs.

I’ve decided each run will be dedicated to one organ or part of my body or the other.

I did it for the lungs. Even though I didn’t go hard as usual, I’m glad I’m alive and healthy to exercise. I’m glad I got to witness the sun rise this morning. I was grateful for the sea breeze, the birds that chirped.

Having morning devotion while running was really fun. Usually, I’d run with fast paced music, but this morning, it was nice, soft but loud and uplifting in a sense.

I did it for my lungs today. It’s the kidney’s turn on Monday.

Oh and at some point too, I’ve got to dedicate one of my runs to The Nigerian Husband. I think for that one, I may want to wear all my wife material. I need something to show off like a peacock. That one will be a royal run. I’ve got to run for that Nigerian Husband oh! He deserves it! (I need prayers…lol this thing is becoming a bit too crazy for my liking! hahahah… but then, who cares right?)

(Now, let’s go photograph a wedding shall we?)

Smile, laugh, love, live, fart and be silly, life is terribly short.

Vou

The ‘Crushee.’

My dear Nigerian Husband,

I really don’t know if you already read this blog of mine. But just in case you’re a reader already, I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about over this post. This is just an innocent childhood rant, just me wishing a good old friend the best!

regards,
your Nigerian wife ( Goodness, this sounds cheesy on all levels… but who cares? hehehe)

So girls and boys, gentlemen and ladies, lets get back to our regularly scheduled programme, shall well?

Rewind 10-15 years ago. Maybe even more…Way back to Sunday School days at ECWA Gospel II.

I wasn’t even a teenager then. Maybe I was.
I loved Sunday sunday for many reasons. The lively teachers we had, (The likes of Uncle Billy and Uncle Rodgard -Not sure I spelt that correctly though) the fun songs Uncle Billy formulated and the friends I had.

But you see, at one stage in my sunday school days, there were a few boys I liked more than others. Yep, I wasn’t entirely the most behaved kid in that regard. But then, who’s to say other little girls didn’t like other boys as well.

At some point I liked this boy called Terna,  (Terna if you’re reading this, Yes, I had a crush on you…lol)  but that crush was short-lived when he became too popular and wouldn’t even notice I existed. You can image how crushed I was.

But my people, this post isn’t about Terna. It’s about the main guy I had a crush on. But even worse than Terna, I don’t think I ever showed up on his radar. His name? Henry!

Henry was quiet, he was smart, he was neat, he read well and he always appeared a bit shy.
One other problem was, Henry always hung around the older Sunday School kids. Those kids who wouldn’t let you hang in their circle… those kids who knew way more Bible verses than we the younger kids.

I remember one time Henry and Queen- a girl I secretly envied because she got to hang around Henry more than me- were assigned the roles of reading the ‘news’ during Sunday School Day (On Sunday School Days, the kids took over the service. we led praise and worship, performed skits and dances).

I can’t even begin to tell you guys how grieved I felt when I wasn’t chosen to read the news along side Henry. I mean, I thought I could read, articulate and appeared just as bold as Henry and Queen. Why wasn’t I chosen? Heck, It was that Aunty Vou. I never believed she liked me much… she was among the mean Sunday School teachers…. (Goodness, this sounds like I had a very disturbed childhood huh? hehehe- If you take this too serious, then my dear, you need to see a shrink!)

Anyways, while I crushed hard on Henry, (And at that stage, crushing on someone simply meant you longed to sit next to them all the time and have the run after you on the playground.) he paid me no mind.

Needless to say, that crush eventually died down, but I never lost respect for the fine-looking Henry.

So Henry Khantiok, now that I have your attention on this blog. From a former ‘Crusher’ to her ‘Crushee,’ I want to wish you a happy birthday!

May this new year bring you closer to being the Man God has ordained you to be. May this new year be filled with blessings, joy, laughter, love and happiness!

People, join me in wishing my Sunday School crush HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

 

Live, laugh, love, smile, sleep and fart; life is too short!

Vou

Weekend Away

Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen,

Remember during the Christmas holidays I attempted to make chin chin and failed miserably? Without any question, I was certain no Nigerian man would marry me. My already limited and struggling wife material just reduced by 50 yards.

I knocked myself hard for weeks over that failed mission. To compensate though, I tried to cook pounded yam and vegetable soup. Apparently I did well on that. I must add though, those compliments came from folks who aren’t from Nigeria. Hence, not knowing much about Nigerian food, they had nothing to compare my meal with. However, I think I hit the spot.

But ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, there’s hope for me.

I spent my weekend with a Nigerian friend of mine. This girl loves to cook and lovessssss to feed people.
I looked forward to spending time with her family and enjoying some Nigerian meals. Secretly though, I dreaded all the feeding, considering the fact that over the last two weeks, I had  people pelting at me their opinions on my weight. ( On one of such days, this lady I used to attend morning aerobics classes with told me  I put on so much weight and I’m now fat. Less than 24 hours later, this other lady saw me and asked why I had lost so much weight. The following morning, this other lady saw me and asked “how’s the baby?” She thought I was pregnant. A few days later, another one told me to tell her the secret to putting on weight.)

Before I got to her house on Saturday, I made sure I worked out extra hard at the gym that morning. I knew there’ll be no escape routes when it came to food at that house. During my previous visit to her house, she blatantly told me “Nne, biko eat some food, see as you’re skinny.”

Anyways, at my friend’s house over the weekend, I learnt to  make egusi soup, I fed the baby, I observed as she made okra soup (calm down, I can cook okra soup. It’s just that she made hers differently)

And the best part of this weekend sleep over was the chin chin. On Sunday after church, laundry, a plate of garri and okra soup, we made chin chin.

As I type, I have a 978 gram/2 lbs peanut butter jar filled with chin chin being displayed on my desk. I plan on taking some to another Nigerian girl who hasn’t had chin chin in ages.

I can almost boast among my peers again. I think with my chin chin game getting back on track, I can look forward to being a good Nigerian wife.
Dear future husband, I’m really doing my best to make sure when your friends come visit you, they’ll have lots of food to eat!

Boys and girls, this has been yet another senseless post. (I know, this post made no sense at all, but I had to post something… It’s been more than a month I actually posted anything here.

Smile, laugh, love, fart and be silly; life is too short

Vou