Tag Archive | humour

My Village People Almost Got Me.

Dear Nigerian Husband,

I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?

Let’s start with the bad news.

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See, my Nigerian Husband is a lucky man! See this beauty he gets to call his wife! To God be the glory.

So remember sometime at the beginning of 2019 when I attempted to make Masa. What a disaster that was. I almost put my good

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How We Met (I Got Tired of Church.)

Dear Unborn Children,

A few days ago on the 1095th day of your father and I knowing each other, I began telling you the story of how it all started. I had to make it short as I didn’t want to bore you with all those tiny details. Apparently, your curiosity has gotten the best of you as well as other aunties and uncles who have read my letters to you behind your back. (Adults these days, I tell ya!)
I digress.
See, when your father and I met, I didn’t think we would go beyond being friends. On the surface, he fit the perfect picture of a player. I wasn’t about to get my heart played and dumped like used diaper. I had to thread carefully.

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This card was among surprise gifts he gave me on our first Valentine’s Day together. Inside, he referred to me as his Future Mrs. Man, dude was seeing way into the future already.

Even as I moved with caution, your father was so intriguing: our conversations were really good. We could go for hours just chatting about nothing and anything. Hardly an hour went by without some kind of communication. (I’m sure he’ll remember when

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How We Met – 1095 Days Ago (Three Years.)

Dear Unborn Children,

I’ve told the story of how we met several times. It’s my favorite love story, I hope it becomes yours too.

However, a few days ago, a friend who had heard the story a few times asked me to tell the story to her sister. And for the first time, I didn’t have theย same enthusiasm and in fact, I had left out a few important aspects and the friend had to chip in to remind me.

So for posterity and for family history, I’m telling this story on the third anniversary of your father and I’s first encounter.

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This was our very first photo together. We sat in a Kekenapep (Tricycle, Marwa) Outside my house. In less than an hour of meeting each other, he raised his butt cheek slightly from the chair and blessed me with his first fart.

As far as love is concerned, give it your all, love completely and be open-minded for when love shows up.
Let me explain.

After dating a few guys, even though nice guys, we didn’t quite work out, obviously. So I decided I Continue reading

Somewhere In The Middle. (A Year Back to Nigeria)

It’s exactly 366 days since I returned to Nigeria.

A few days ago, the Nigerian Husband and I laid on a blanket on the bare living room floor relaxing and he goes, โ€œ So when was the last time you blogged?โ€
That got me thinking and hit me that I had actually let go of my love for writing. That question asked tactfully, birthed this blog post. You guys have this good man to thank.

Three hundred and ninety three days ago, my life changed. DSC_0362

See, before Hurricane Irma, my life in the Virgin Islands was pretty simple and chill: I woke up at about 7:30 a.m. to prepare for work and then leave for town with my Continue reading

2018.

Happy New Year, I wish you all the good things of life this year.

So much has happened over the past few weeks, all for good, thank God. In due time, I’ll write about them in detail.

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Photo: Musa Tukurah Photography.

I’m not one to keep New Year resolutions and all that jazz, so I’ll Continue reading

My Butt, My Crack, My Rules

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Dear Nigerian Husband,
If this breaks your heart, I’m sorry… (Well, not really.)

I told you from the beginning, accepting me as your loyal, submissive, prayerful, loving, funny, annoying and offspring-producing wife means you’re accepting me with all my defiant and not-so-lady-like ways.

This time, I’m about to make a revelation or two that might be that final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

I understand you’re a very traditional man. A man whose family is well known for the type of good daughter in-laws they have. You’re the type of man who believes I must embody everything refined, everything pure, everything obedient and everything meek and everything that must act proper while in public.

But my dear Nigerian Husband, I do possess some of those qualities, but look eh, forget this long English I’m speaking…I posses a few habits that should not be used in a sentence describing the perfect wifely-material.

I dig out my panties in public! (Did I hear you say i must have some public decorum? Aint’ nobody gat time for that?!?)

Yes, I said it. I hope this marriage is still going to hold. Wait, It must hold oh, after all, you’re not a reader of this silly blog of mine. You’re busy building a future for that big family we’re going to have.

But let me just attempt to explain myself in case you’re a ghost reader.

Look, all, a few ladies, if they are honest and at times publicly unrefined like me, might agree with me, buying the right panties to fit our back-sides could sometimes be a pain!

I remember one time I went to buy me some new draws (goodness, I shouldn’t even be talking about under wears this publicly. I’m really pushing this my traditional Nigerian Husband to the wall… All of you that are there laughing at my expense, I hope you have a fall back Nigerian Husband for me in the event this one in my head calls off our union)

Anyways, back to the matter. I went to buy me some new panties and I underestimated the size of my butt. ( please insert any cute or politically correct name for butt here…) I bought nearly two sizes too small. When I got home, I realized they could barely even give me proper coverage.

No, if you’re thinking I just dumped them in the undies drawer, you’re wrong. I wore them. I was not about to waste some money.

Needless to say, the few times I wore them out, I found myself on the wrong side of public manners. I caught myself on the verge of digging them out in public. I almost found myself in the same position as the women I squeeze my face at each time they just boldly pull out their panties in public.

My dear husband, I’m not about that pretend life. Please I beg you, let me know what you think about this topic. I’m trying to make myself the best wife I can be. Honestly though, it’s very uncomfortable having to walk around town and still trying to look cute at the same time with draws stuck in the middle of your butt.

I’m fed up of trying to act proper. I’m taking matters into my hands… I shall dig out anything being a bother to me…

Oh, I wanted to also talk to you about my resistance to proper shoes. For a while now, I’ve worn flip flops to work and have only changed them when I needed to attend a press conference. Never mind though, we’ll discuss that another time. (I’ve been getting a lot of heat from my friend Ify about my flip flops. I sort of get where she’s coming from. She’s married to a good Nigerian Husband, so I think she might have tips or experience on what men of your calibre want…

I’m done…

(If you take this too serious, my dear you need to see a shrink…. ๐Ÿ™‚ )

 

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

Vou