Cheesy smiles, Bullying, Spam and other randoms..

I suspect I am not the only one whose instinctive reation to the overly ebullient demeanour of sales people customer service assistants is to curl my fingers into a tight fist. I often want to punch them, so that the smile plastered on their face vanishes. They give me the impression of the legendary house rat – which I am told eats the skin off the feet, but aims a puff of air at the right time and place to dull the pain until it has had its fill of its victim’s feet! Thankfully, I am too lilly-livered to follow through my macabre thoughts with action – else I might be rotting in some jail on the grounds of causing grevious bodily harm.

Thankfully, I am not alone in having ‘dangerous’ tendencies – apparently Bros G knows a thing or two about bullying people. If only our own Bros J could add that to his repertoire perhaps the impasse of sorts foisted on the Nation by Aunty Turai and Uncle Yardy might be resolved sooner than later.

I have a little theory – SPAM is getting smarter. Over the last few  weeks, I have been getting SPAM mail from ‘Nigerian-esque’ names: Amaka, Lola, Garba and the like. One part of me says its random, but I refuse to accept that. The final piece of the jigsaw I am waiting on, so I can go to Mashable with my story, is for me to get an email from an Oritsegbebumi – or an Abayomiolorunkoje – no computer can generate those names.. Lai Lai.

Depression is no longer the excluse preserve of PMSing teenagers, or blokes stuck deep in a mid-life crisis – dogs too have decided to get involved too.  And trust the Capitalists to jump in on the act – Dogs now have their version of Prozac. Brilliant!

Twitter’s gotten a lot more interesting in the last few weeks…………. Thanks to A certain people (shelling on purpose.. sue me..)

And on a less random note….

Dreams permit oddities

– Max Lucado

I say dream on… Have a great weekend peeps.. and YOU.. grab a drink for two.. you know how we do!

Weekend Randoms…

And I am learning to say no
I let out in the night
A bitter or a hopeful voice

– Montserrat Abello

I’m currently reading “Dance the Guns to Silence” a collection of one hundred poems in memory of Ken Saro Wiwa and the Ogoni 8. So far so good, but the poem I like the most is ‘And I am Learning to Say No’ (from which the above quote comes) by Montserrat Abello – its short, simple, resigned and dare I say quietly defiant – which is how I like poems :). I found, thanks to google, some other works by her here. Perhaps I am drawn to it because in many ways toughening up, learning to say no to people, is one of the major failings I think I have had in my life.

I have the burden priviledge of sharing an office with a couple of Nigerian blokes at work . Inevitably, our lunch break discourses turn to Nigeria – issues, future plans and matters arising. The other day, the subject of patriotism came up – and I argued that in the main, the Nigerian problem is firmly rooted in the allegiance to personal pockets, family, ethnicity, state and only then the country. Quite a few of the blokes have great ideas – I only hope the ideas persist. I think Chxta dropped some useful food for thought on NEXT on the subject a few weeks back now.

I’m intriuged by the definition of BLACK. Have been for a while – since the news of the first black player to play for Athletic Bilbao first team broke late in December of 2009. The bloke is Jonas Ralmaho – he’s also the youngest player in the first team, so he must be some prodigy. Growing up all those many years ago, there was ‘us’, and the others – any one who was not totally black was different – celebrated and accepted but still different… My Question – Is being black the absence of any non- african blood, or the presence of even the slightest pigementation derived from African genes? Or is it a fluid definition – dependent on context?

Still on the subject of football – Javier Mascherano came out in the papers to insist he would never  move to Manchester City.  Considering the same bloke wanted to escape to Barcelona in the summer  – I’d say he should keep his lips zipped and perform on the field. After ‘we’ rescued his career from the doldrums at West Ham, the least he can do is keep faith with ‘us’.  His take:

Here, we play with the history of the club behind us. We don’t have their money but we are proud to play for Liverpool. I know that they have the money and they are building a good side but I am still so proud to play for Liverpool.

Yeah right, except its Barcelona! Bollocks I’d say!

Is NITEL sold or not? And if it was, does a Chinese company have a hand in it? Seems to me that a lot of assets in Africa are being purloined bought by the Chinese. Allied to their economic growth rate and all that – might we have a new world order in our lifetimes yet? The folks over at the Financial Times suspect the numbers do not add up. I say, let those in charge clarify o….

I think buses – and trains –  are the best places to know a lot about people; next  to living with them 24/7. Maybe its something about the anonymity – but I find that quite a few louts typically exercise their worst behaviour on buses – like putting their wet, snow covered feet on seats, like playing music very loud (it’s cool that you have all the songs in the UK top 40 or whatever on your iPod – but I don’t want to know – thank you very much), like chatting and swearing very loudly – and being very in your face. Perhaps my thresholds are too low… I dunno.

The last post was a poem – just a poem.. Based on what Mother said long ago – So long ago that the events that led to it are now the subject of legend and friendly sibling yabs! 🙂 Thanks for commiserating anyways!

What Mother Said…




Shed Tears;
Let pain like a malevolent fiend-
Draw blood.

Let go;
Let the waves of a melancholic nostalgia-
Break you.

Pressure makes you whole again.

Blame Fear;
Blame Pain, blame sorrow deep within-
Still Sing.

Taking a break

In a way this blog has been great – it has forced me to focus on myself and actively strive to become better – and you the readers have been fabulous – encouraging, challenging and offering help too! I have a lot to be thankful for – I’ve come through a lot. Life has gotten so much more busy that I can’t keep up with this blog – and frankly I am running out of things to bitch about which is good. Will still be around – reading your blogs when I can steal the time!

Thanks for sharing the journey..

Waiting for Bus 21…

The evening breeze, cooled by the frigid NorthSea never fails to welcome me to this place.  Nonedescript, marked only by a pole and a small 4×4 plaque, it can seem like Oya or her  Viking consort Njord chose to channel their chilling breath  through this spot. For 40 days now, I have had to endure the icy chill the wind brings. Sometimes it can feel like the wind reaches out an icy claw and grabs the heart, as though it would yank it out and leave me for dead.

We all gather, like bees drawn to precious nectar, different faces, different colors; sometimes grumpy, sometimes affording the luxury of a fleeting smile –  all united by a singular  objective – jumping aboard Bus 21. The most we exchange are curt nods, or on a particularly good day the obligatory comment about the weather.

They tell me this is the coldest winter in 50 years.  That is scant consolation for the waves of shivering that wash over me – whilst my teeth beat out an incohenrent rhythm. Seconds stretch into minutes – which seem like hours – as the gods of this deserted place seek to seize their pound of flesh.

The cold reminds me of one thing. This is not my place…. I am me, journeying through… But standing for a moment…

Random musings…

So John Terry lost the England football captaincy – strange to me considering the quite public exploits of Sven Goran Ericksson and Mark Pallios back in the day; the recent activities of Avram Grant and the fact that none of the names being touted as Terry replacements have covered themselves in glory in the past.  He should simply have listened to the Vera show – and stayed off the friend’s ex… The bloke in the pod next to mine at work says footballers count money in millions of pounds and sense in pence.. Haterade maybe.. But this list of top ten gaffes makes an intriguing read..

Sat behind two naija blokes on the bus to work on Friday… Couldn’t help over hearing them talk about their women issues..Mine defo pale in significance… One ‘imported’ a wife from home and three months in, all she wants to do is hit the pubs every evening…..Surely,  this is only one side of the story?

Gladwell says there’s a 10,000 hour rule – a minimum amount of time irrespective of innate ability – required to gain mastery of something. He points to the examples of the Beattles, Bill Gates, Bill Joy and the like…. I wonder if there is an equvalent rule in forgetting someone.. .. to erase their memory from your mind…..Maybe a 90 day rule?

I’m officially retiring my BB.. Kid sister wants it… and I think I’m sooo over it… They have to be the most overated devices.. next to the iPhone. 🙂

I stumbled on my old ZoeGirl collection whilst mindlessly trawling my mp3 collection..(the band broke up 😦 ) They used to be my favourite Christian girl band back in the day.. alongside Point of Grace…It felt great to hear Dismissed again…. brought back memories….and lots of head bobbing.. in lieu of dancing…

I think serious work – which is great cos it pays the bills –  is stifling my pretend writing.. I’ve been stuck on four lines of a poem for the past month… The last thing I wrote seriously was in October.. #notgood! I shall write.. whether the Devil Mama Charlie likes it or not…

Feeling lonely? There’s two solutions available – a fembot (which will set you back a few thousand quid) or a boyfriend pillow (which is considerably cheaper). There’s loads of benefits – no smelly socks, no long hours watching football, no PMSing, — u get my drift…..

Oh.. and 30’s the new cool… whatever we might say to the contrary when we are more sober….

Re-learning me.

I am re-learning me – finding out there is a darker side; one that is afraid, that hurts and wants to hurt in return, that wants to run and hide, close my eyes and wake up to a whole new life. I fear it is a losing battle, years of building walls, insulating myself from the world and being the black sheep will not suddenly vanish.

I am re-learning me – I don’t like what I see!

What not to do on a Monday night..

This is ‘fiction’….

What not to do on a Monday night is to boil beans….. and having boiled it,   to eat it with garri and loads of milk….  and sugar….. especially when you know you are lactose intolerant!

Yours truly fell foul of the law of commonsense.. and did all the above… As expected, the turbulence hit during the day.. cue squirming, frequent strolls to let bombshells fly off with reckless abandon in the more secluded regions of the work place, plus the occasional guided missile.. a well timed, low level release. Thankfully there was no presentation today or else Naija boy for mess up big time!

Anyways, the lesson was learned – avoid beans and garri and milk during the week – period. Irrespective of how much the stomach is pining for it….