Verastically Livin'...

See Me See Wahala O

2008-09-05T00:00:00.002-04:00

Before I go any further, I wanna take full responsibility for this outlandish situation that I now find myself in. Yes, it was my fault. Yes, I have learnt my lesson. No, I will never make such a mistake (I hope).

I met TAB @ a wedding a few months ago. He asked for my number and I gave it. Why? I dunno. I guess I was tryna be nice. (Chemistry = zero. Attraction for him = zero. Possible Future = NEGATIVE). The wedding was on a Saturday. Three days later (Tuesday), he called for the first time, saying he called to hear his baby's voice before going to bed? Hold Up!!! Baby?? Who? When? Tufai kwa!

TAB lives in a different State, so I have not seen him since that wedding months ago, thank God. He has tried to come and visit me several times, but I've been coming up with excuses. What am I gonna be seeing him for?? For a while, there was no communication between us. Well, there was a one-way communication. He comminicated. I didn't respond. So he stopped calling. Recently, he started calling again. I spoke to him once. Other times, we just texted. I told him clearly that under NO circumstance will I enter any kind of relationship with him. Problem? TAB apparently doesn't understand anything I'm saying. Either that, or I'm speaking alien.

Oh, did I mention that TAB is very guilty of four of my major pet peeves??
1. He can't speak English - although he's a college graduate.
2. He can't write English - this is evident in the fact that I cannot understand his texts.
3. He can't spell English - he just spells something that he thinks is English.
4. He doesn't understand ANYTHING I say. Does any1 know how 2 translate alien?

He doesn't know my last name, I think. He'll never discover this blog, I hope. Will that stop me from blogging about him? Abso-freaking-lutely not! I'll show you exact texts that have been shared between us. I'm not gonna edit the spellings or any kinda errors, so that you can see what I have been seeing. The texts you see here are exactly the same way on my phone.

Wednesday, Aug 27th 2008. 12:49 AM
TAB: Hi I am not happy with u response why all this yanga

Me: What yanga are you talking about now?

TAB: I told u that I wanna come see u since then u are telling me this week I have a wdeng next week not sure thats yanga I mean the business when I saw u I think u are d one

Me: TAB, I cannot be the one. I told you I don't even want a relationship. I am not the one.

TAB: What do u want I love 2 take care of lady but I hate yanga

Me: This is not yanga. This is me saying no.

TAB: Saying no to what? 2 me?

Me: To you and to a relationship. I cannot give you what you want.

TAB: I want u but I not cracy about u but I got feeling 4 u if I am chanced.

He spelt crazy as cracy. That was the last straw. At this point, I didn't even bother replying again. I just went 2 bed.

Wed, Aug 27th 2008. 8:48 PM
TAB: Why are u still make things hard 4 me?

Me: I'm not making things hard for you. You're not crazy about me. I'm not crazy about you. What are we supposed to be doing with each other?

TAB: Ok I m cracy about u thats is why am still asking u

Me: I don't have time for these games, TAB. You've already said you're not crazy about me and that's fine with me. Whether you're crazy about me or not doesn't matter because I do NOT want a relationship with you. Please understand what I am saying. I am trying very hard to not be mean to you but you're making this very difficult.

TAB: Whao u said u don't wanna to be mean this is my point there nothing wrong in disagree 2 agree let move on 2 d next chapter.

Me: And what is the next chapter?

TAB: To know each other differences dos n dont personality etc. That will help in building a strong n good relationship it will to allow each other for who we are n makes us 2 be constructive n criticising

Me: So you didn't me when I said I didn't want a relationship, right? Goodnight, TAB.

TAB: Goodnight my Vera (your Vera??? Boy, you done lost yo mind!)

Ever since then, TAB has successfully sent @ least one message everyday. I don't bother replying anyone of them. Two days ago, he sent this one, "Hi I havent hear from u for a while all am looking for is good woman that is going to be committed caring n loving I am trying 2 communicate this 2 u but if u cannot this requirements let me know then I make a pick d day I saw u"

My response? None. For starters, I don't even understand the text. If any of you wonderful readers understand it, please do explain it to me. I cannot burn valuable brain cells trying to decipher this jargon. The fact that TAB has my number is embarassing enough to me sef. Can you just imagine me and him having a conversation? I will be bald by the end of it because frustration and anger would have led me to pull out all my hair. If I were dead and TAB came to my grave to ask me out, I will wake up and say, HELL NO!!! If I were to take a man like TAB to my parents, they will definitely be disowning me. How will he talk with my parents? I have a blunt, sometimes-impatient mother and a very, very sarcastic father. Oh, and a Grandma who looks sweet as can be but her words can hurt a rock. The rest of my family will gladly tell him to repeat everything he said, just so that they can laugh. Lai lai.

Mr. TAB, abeg just arrange your dignity and leave me alone oo! You are beneath my capacity! Gosh, I've been longing to say that for so long. I dunno why I keep volunteering myself into this kind of trouble. I need to go wash my head in the river 4 real. The question I keep asking myself is: How and why did I let this get this far? Better yet, why did I even let it start in the first place?

Anyway, after you're done answering my questions and explaining TAB's text message(s), please take a minute to welcome a new blogger, Temite

Positively Obsessed

2008-09-02T16:04:00.006-04:00

I have a very obsessive mind...as I have now come to acknowledge. I'm not obsessive-compulsive, but my mind easily gets stuck on one issue. For as long as I can remember, this has always been one of the things about me that even I cannot fathom. Now, here are a few of favorite things. And yes, I am currently very obsessed with thinking about them. I just cannot figure them out, and that drives me insane....!

On Saturday, I attended a cookout. Twas nice....lotsa people, most of whom I did not know. A young girl/lady who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties approached me, shook my hand, and said, "Nice to finally meet you. Don't worry about where I know you from, but it's nice to finally meet you." So of course, I have a new thought to be obsessed with. Who was she? Was she a blogger? (Honestly, for a minute, I wondered if she was SolomonSydelle coz SolomonSydelle is the only Maryland blogger Icould think of). Was she a reader? WHO. WAS. SHE? The fact that I'm blogging about it today tells you that I still don't know. I cannot stop thinking about it. I probably will not stop thinking about it - until I find out, that is. So dear, anonymous hand shaker, please reveal thy self. Biko. I beg of thee.

Take a look @ this pencil. Now, someone tell me why this pencil has two mouths. Every time I see my mom using it, I just feel like snatching it out of her hands and breaking one mouth off. Whose idea was it to sharpen two mouths onto this poor pencil? Why will one pencil be entitled to two mouths? It's not like you can write with both of them at once. Besides, what happens when I make a mistake and need to erase it? What kind of pencil comes without an eraser? Am I the only one who doesn't find this to be mind-boggling? And then again, the pencil has the words 'Happy Birthday' inscribed on it. Whose birthday?? Alright, enough of the two-mouthed pencil b4 I snap.

Sometime in April or maybe May, I went to Shoppers' grocery store, and I was passing by the aisle where they have baked goods. They had doughnuts, muffins, croissants etc. Then I saw this sign: Shoppers' World Famous Colossol Doughnuts. Errrrr. World famous??? Since when? Until I saw that sign, I don't think I even knew that Shoppers made douughnuts. And now they had the nerves to call their doughnuts world famous?? Oh, please! So I went back there today, just to take a picture of the sign, but sadly, it was gone and now replaced with that a new one. Now, their doughnuts eat other doughnuts for breakfast. Well, whatever. I'm glad that I got a chance to finally blog about this. I have been thinking about it since April or May.

I passed this stop sign about two weeks ago. I couldn't help but notice the weed growing behind it. I actually went back to that street today with my camera to go take a picture of the sign. And no, the road wasn't even on my way. I actually drove there today just to take this picture. I parked the car and came out, just to take a picture of this sign. Why? I'm very puzzled by why and how the weed started growing behind the sign. The sign is metal/iron. It's silly, I know, but I have not been able to stop thinking about it ever since I spotted it. What if the weed grows long enough to completely cover the stop sign? Will a person still be given a ticket for running the sign? Hmmmm. I wonder.

There Is A God Somewhere

2008-08-24T23:00:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, (Saturday August 24th), I attended a wedding. It was really nice, of course. The blushing, glowing bride was gorgeous! The dashing groom was practically floating in his agbada. Love was in the air. Music was blasting thru the speakers, and people were doing all sorts of dance moves. Whether they were in sync with the music or not is a story for another day.

I went into the reception hall hoping to attract as little attention as possible because I was late. Instead, I got lots & lots of attention. Apparently, my outfit was HAWT. I cannot count how many people said they loved the outfit and asked who made it. I said 'Thank You' so many times that I automatically assumed anyone that so much as looked @ me was about to compliment me. One lady asked how I was doing and I replied with 'Thank You.' Oops. Well, it's not my fault jo. I was all that and a bag of chips. Forget what you know. I was stylin & profilin.

I was feeling so cute that I didn't have time to dance well. I needed to perambulate the hall, so that those who didn't see me would see me. I even thought of taking the mic from the mc to give this speech, "Good Evening, everyone. My name is Vera Ezimora. I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has complimented my outfit tonight. For those who have not, I realize that the lines to get to me are a little long, so you're welcome to send all your compliments to P. O. BOX 7893. Essex MD 21221. Thank you in advance. And I'll be signing autographs in front of the high table - directly in front of the bride & the groom."

I couldn't go thru this wedding without something funny happening to me. Just as every other story I have told you, I was jejely sitting down minding my own Verastic business when some man who could not have been less than ten years younger than my father came in front of me and began to roll his hips for me. All I could see in front of me was his groin shooting out. If you were looking @ this man from behind, you would have thought he was giving me a lap dance. Or worse case scenario, fellatio was going on. What else coulda had his hips gyrating like that?? Shamelessly shameless, I tell you.

Was I embarrassed? You. Have. No. Idea.

I have never seen this man in my life before. I don't know what he was attempting to do: makossa dance, public seduction of Vera, public display of hips flexibility, wooing of Vera, or public embarrassment of Vera. He succeeded in doing the last one.

I pushed him away. BEGGED him to stop in the name of love... b4 he breaks my heart... further. He left and still came back three times! And he had the nerves to ask why I had not taken his picture with my camera. Of course, I took his picture - not because I wanted to, but because my friends were gone and I needed them to see this nuisance of a man. And no, I will not post it up here. You never know who might be reading this biko.

But Mr. Hip Gyrator was just an unwelcome distration. I had my eyes on Mr. Contagious [Smile]. We shared a little more than a couple of words between each other and lots and lots of confusing smiles. I sat there pretending to be looking @ my camera, but I wasn't. I was tryna send a nonverbal message. I didn't want to have the don't-talk-to-me look on my face, and @ the same time, I didn't wanna have the please-talk-to-me look, so I settled on the I'm-too-busy-pretending-to-look-at-my-camera-to-notice-you're-staring-at-me look.

At the end of the day, we said our goodbyes in between lots & lots of mysterious smiles. That smile of his was contagious. He just kept on smiling, and I smiled right back. And it wasn't the fake smile I gave him. It was not the please-stop-smiling-at-me-you're-freaking-me-out smile. It was not the what-the-heck-is-so-funny smile, and it was not the yeah-whatever smile. It was the God-I-love-your-smile-so-please-keep-smiling smile. How could one not smile back @ that smile? It was so easy, peaceful, beautiful, calming, and contagious.

No, no, I'm not in love. Just saying there is obviously a God somewhere. Off I go to tell God how I want Him to plan our next chance meeting.

Bananas & Tomatoes

2008-08-18T16:14:00.006-04:00

I was driving this morning and almost entering someone else's lane...all because I was trying to peel a banana respectfully, whatever that might mean. So there I was, innocently holding the steering wheel with my left hand and holding the half-way-peeled banana in my right hand, trying to take a bite....which meant putting the banana in my mouth, head first.

Then I looked to my right and saw this oyinbo boy giving me this erotic look. Honestly, I was not trying to do anything naughty to this banana, especially while driving at sixty-five miles per hour on the highway! Anyway, what could I do but laugh?

But it got me thinking. I remember when I was in elementary school in Naija - the age of learning the baddest words. I was in Primary II when I learnt what a 'prick' was. I still don't know why it was called a prick. Was it because of its ability to prick?? Oh, well. I have long found a new name for that member of the body. And no, I do not wish to discuss it. But in order not to be considered as 'rotten' or 'bad,' we often called it banana instead, which made & still makes sense.

I lived in the North (Jos, Plateau State), so we called the female genitalia 'toto' which is vagina in Hausa. But what I do not understand is why toto was also called tomato. What exactly is the resemblance?? The color? The textture? Ugh...! The shape? Goodness, please...not the shape! LOL! Maybe it's its ability to squirt out liquid. Hmmm. That's a very disturbing thought because tomato's liquid comes with seeds!

I do not know about everyone else, but I do not squirt out seeds. If I did, I would have grown more than a few hundred Verastic trees by now. I have had my fair share of peeing on the soil (and it was the good soil too, not that sandy soil that was poor for agriculture). You can thank boarding school for that.

I bet it had to be a man who came up with the idea that tomato somehow looks like toto. Tomato is a fruit that is eaten as a vegetable. It seems to me like tomato is a confused specie, much like the female specie...as men would always gladly say. Besides, what kind of tomato were my Primary II school boys referring to? Plum tomato? Round tomato? Cluster tomato? Heirloom tomato? What???

Don't tell me I'm the only one who is scratching my head and wondering what kind of tomato I am... or was??? I'm tempted to put up a picture of each kind of tomato, but I'll respect myself. LOL. I don't want you to think I'm crazier than you already think I am.

Mr. Slow

2008-08-12T15:57:00.004-04:00

Why do I keep doing this 2 myself? I went to see a movie with this guy. Let's call him Mr. Slow. Honestly, he's slow. I think he stays on slow motion. The way he talks, the things he says...goodness! So why did I subject myself to such cruelty? I don't know. I wasn't thinking anything could come out of our movie event. In fact, the only reason I decided to see the movie was because I wanted a situation with the least amount of talking.

So off we went to see the movie. Everything was going great - not because of him, but because of the movie. I was enjoying the movie. We got to the end of the movie and some nice romantic song started playing. Can you believe that this dude started singing right along with the song? Oh! My! Goodness! To say that I was humiliated will be an understatement. Why did he have to sing?

On a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being the worst), his voice was like 20. And he wasn't even trying to sing under his breath. He was singing out loud confidently. Someone had to have told him that he sounded good. Where else could he have summoned the courage to belch the lyrics of that beautiful song, in spite of sounding like a toad? Not only did he not know how to sing, he also didn't even know the lyrics. Whew! Somebori, say it isn't so, please. I was pissed the heck off!

My blood was boiling hot. It was so hot that it was about 10 degrees above hell. Yes, I was that pissed off. Pissed off and embarrassed. All I needed was for those White people to vex and start stoning me with their popcorn and fries. If that had happened ehn, Mr. Slow would have known a different side of me. I would have shown him what hot water does to garri.

As if that is not funny enough, he actually thinks we're in a relationship. LOL. Where did he get that idea, you ask? Who knows? He and I never had such a conversation. Which kin relationship by default be this one? I don't even know how to start laughing anymore. If this is my enemies' way of getting to me, they have failed! I refuse to be tricked into homicide. Yes, my enemies are trying to make me date someone whom I will surely end up killing, but they have failed. LOL.

Why NOT To Chill In A Public Restroom

2008-08-03T20:50:00.002-04:00

Techinically, I wasn't chilling. I went in there for a reason. Heaven knows that I only pee in a public restroom when I have to, so I definitely will not be going in there to chill. What the puck! Yes, I said 'puck'. I learnt it from Funmi's three year old baby who said, 'what the puck?' I thought it was so cute, so now I say it every now & then. Well, I don't mean cute as in awwww, she said her first f-word, but cute as in awww, she mispronounced it. Okay, obviously, there is no way for me to say this and meaningfully justify or explain the cuteness of a three year old saying 'puck'. And if you're wondering, the baby learnt it from Funmi's younger brother. And no, I do not at any time of my life - consciously or unconsciously - include the f-word in my vocabulary. Back to my post...

On Monday, July 27th 2008, I was to meet someone at Macy's. I picked Macy's as the spot because I was going to go do some laptop window shopping @ Best Buy which was a few blocks down. As it turned out, I was too tired & exhausted to go to Best Buy, so I just went to Macy's. I was even too tired to shop - not that I had the money sha. My eyes were a bit pink, revealing the limited sleep I had the night before. I literally dragged myself through Macy's. I was even too tired to sniff perfumes, so you gotta believe me when I say I was tired. All I did was circle the shoe section and try on as many shoes as I could, nothing strenuous. About five different women asked me if I needed help. Wetin na?? I no fit try shoe for free again??? *hiss*

When the time to meet the person was getting close, I decided to do myself a favor and go to the restroom to 'powder my nose.' Who even coined this phrase? Does any1 actually go in2 the restroom to powder their nose? Once you enter the bathroom, there are two aisles - one by the left and one by the right. I went to the aisle by the left. I cleaned the leather couch in there and put my bag on it. Alas, I was finally going to use the little make-up I had been carrying in my bag for ages.

My people, there I was oh, jejely opening my blush kini when some Oyibo lady walked in. The haste with which she had walked in should have told me that all wasn't well. This lady went into the stall behind me and next thing I heard was ppppprprrrruuuuuuu ppppprrrruuuuuu prrrrrruuuuuu. Goodness! That one na proper cholera o. I just packed my stuff and quickly ran to the other aisle. Before I could even get to the end of that aisle, a powerful stench almost blew me away. In fact, I was blown away. I didn't have to look far to notice the big feet in a pair of athletic shoes inside one of the stalls. Me sef, I begin dey wonder whether na man abi na woman wey dey inside stall. I had to organize myself o. So yes, I just left the bathroom completely.

Fifteen minutes later, I went back in. I saw the first lady coming out of the bathroom. The look on her face was, "Uh oh, she knows what I did in there." Me sef, the look I hoped was on my own face was, "Yes, I know what you did in there." So the stalls were free. Awesome. I went back to the left aisle of the bathroom because Mrs. Big Feet was still in her stall on the right aisle. I was just beginning oh when some Mexican - to be politically correct, let's call her Hispanic/Latino/Spanish - woman went to that same stall (the one where Mrs. Guilty Shitter had just exited), and before I could blink, she started her own session.

You've gotta be kidding me! That's what I was thinking. Which kin nonsense temptation be that na? The only thing worse than smelling of shit is smelling of someone else's shit. So I ran out of the bathroom again. About ten minutes later, I went back to the right aisle. This time, Mrs. Big Feet wasn't there anymore. I was able to successfully finish powdering my nose and combing my hair to look presentable. Thank God I also had perfume in my bag - two for that matter. Some day, I'll blog about all the crap in my bag.

I washed my hands and left the bathroom, but then I realized I didn't have lotion in my bag. I decided to go to the lotion/perfume section to get a little dab of lotion. As if I had not been traumatized enough, I was walking towards the perfume and lotion section when some nosy Black lady who was waiting for her friend to try on shoes asked me if I had gotten a makeover from Mac. Means what?! Did I look that jacked up before? Of course, I didn't ask. I think I knew what the answer would have been.

To compensate for all the mental injury that Macy's and its customers had caused me, I went to the lotion/perfume aisle and poured some of the lotion (Unforgiveable Woman by Sean John) into my little lotion bottle. Wetin? No be steal I steal am now. Na sample I dey sample. Honestly, I had been planning on going to Victoria's Secret to get more lotion, but there I was, in a section full of several sample lotions. Ah, I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by oh. I filled up on my bottle sharp sharp! In fact, when this lotion finishes, I shall revisit Macy's and fill up with a new kinda lotion. Who knew that such an expensive, nice-smelling lotion could come at such an affordable price?

As for those women who wanted to reperfume me with the stench of their shit, e no go better for them @ allll. If no be say I don change sef, I for don invoke cholera for their side.

Now that you're done laughing at me, please take a moment to read my new article, Poles Apart. Thanks!!

Aloofar, I Dare You!

2008-07-28T10:35:00.001-04:00

Before I continue this post, I just wanna say that my reason for updating today is because Lil Miss QMoney (yes, I said 'lil') thinks I am so predictable. Apparently, I have been updating on Tuesdays for the past four weeks. So now, Lil Miss Qmoney has been expecting updates on Tuesdays. So Qmoney, how you like me now?! The predictable Vera has now become the predictably unpredictable Vera ehn? Hehehehehehe. I laugh in Igbo.

So QMoney, for all you know sef, I might just decide to update on Wednesday next time. Or Thursday. Or Friday. Okay, to make the long story short, I might just decide to update on any other day apart from Tuesday...and Monday, of course (since this post you're reading was posted on Monday).

Now, back to the reason for this post, that Lil Mister Aloofar (yes, I said 'lil' again), how far can he really go? So the story is that I wrote - more like yelled - on Aloofar's comment box, asking - more like ordering, demanding, and commanding - him to update before I vex finish. And the Lil guy had the effrontery and ordercity to come back and threaten to do me something.

So Aloofar, I want you to come and do me something right now. Whatever that something is, do it to me. This is a dare. I am daring you to come and do whatever it is that you have threatened to do to me. Abi you dey fear? No fear oh. I no dey bite - yet.

*Singing* Oh oh, e get as e dey do me, do me, do me, do me...na the way you dey do me-ey! Boy, I love the way you do me, do me, do me, do me, do me......

I'm Having Twins!!!

2008-07-22T00:55:00.003-04:00

To say that I am thrilled will be an understatement. Yes, I, Vera Ezimora, am having twins. I know what you're thinking.... Vera didn't tell us she's pregnant.

Okay, rewind.

Did I ever tell you how slow a cook I am? I am not the sort that people should depend on when they're really hungry - unless I'm just gonna make them a bowl of cereal. In the time I would use to cook one meal, you would have already had breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And even snacks in between. Anyway, I have been cooking moi moi since 1pm on Sunday. It is past 12 AM on Tuesday and I just got done. Don't ask me how that happened. Just keep in mind that it took me 8 hours to wash the beans.

Fast-foward to how I found out I'm having twins.

I put half of an egg in each moi moi. So there I was, throwing half an egg in each moi moi when I noticed this twin egg. Two chicks would have hatched from this egg. In case you didn't know, I have always dreamt of having twins, so finding this twin egg was a sign. You know what I did? I didn't put the egg in any moi moi. I ate it! Yeap, I sure did. I even prayed over it before eating. As the Lord has made two chicks (yolks) in this egg, so shall one of my eggs produce two [identical] babies. Amen. So now, I'm convinced that I will be having twins.

For the record, I am not currently pregnant. And I'm not trying to get pregnant. In fact, I am not doing anything that can make me pregnant - all pun intended. But when I do become pregnant, I will be having twins. If they are the same sex, I would prefer for them to be confusingly identical.

All that I can say to you wonderful readers is that you need to start saving money for my twins. Open up special bank accounts for them if you have to. On second thoughts, you don't need to save the money. Just start sending the gifts immediately. Sigh.

***Rubbing my tummy***

I think I hear some sounds in my tummy; they must be sounds of my future twins kicking. Actually, I think it's just the Peak milk I put in my garri that is stirring things up. The darn milk gives me gas!

Opportunities

2008-07-15T14:39:00.003-04:00

I spent my weekend @ Ocean City, Maryland, but I will blog about the experience when I update later. For now, there are a few things I have to mention.

My Contant Info:

So apparently, it has been next to impossible to get me on the phone. Oops. The other day, I managed to listen to the voicemail, and I started returning calls from April. LOL. Anyway, all that has changed now. However, if you do call me and I don't pick up. please leave a message that includes your name & number. I'll have a mighty hard time returning calls with no messages. So now, you have three ways of contacting me, and they are all current.

Address: P. O. BOX 7893
Essex MD 21221
USA

Email: vera@verastic.com

Number: 443-934-9039

I'll be looking forward to hearing from you all.

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Event Planning

If you live in the MD/DC area and need an affordable event planner for your event (wedding, party, whatever), then email enneventplanning@yahoo.com And yes, I am 'affiliated' with Enn. Shoot, I just might be planning your next event! *wink, wink*

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Kitu Kizuri Interview

I'm gonna be writing a new article for Kitu Kizuri, and I need to interview single African women who are at least 25 years old. If you're interested, please contact me ASAP. Feel free to send me a snail mail, an e-mail, or just call.

Criteria:
1. Must be female & African
2. Must be at least 25.
3. Must be single. (Single as in neither married, engaged, nor in a relationship).

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A short film is being shot (or about to be shot), so if you live around (or can make it to) the MD/DC area, then read the following:

Nigerian Actor(s) needed for Short Student Film in Washington, DC

We need a young (age 23 to a young looking 28), tall, and well dressedAfrican (most ideally Nigerian) actor to be a short film shooting inDC during the last weekend of August. The actor be able expressemotions with very little direction. He must be able to speak in anauthentic African and American accent. He must be able to speak"Pidgen" or broken English as well. The role requires some basic dancemoves. There will be dance and blocking practices in early or midAugust that he MUST be able to attend in order to seal the role.

We are also casting for a supporting Female role. She must be in herearly to mid 20's, well dressed and have a GREAT sense of humor. Weneed a very witty girl. The part is small, but very fun and greatexposure for the right actress.

Summary--Through a series of wacky dreams, a young Nigerian manrealizes that that his Bollywood obsessed ex-girlfriend is truly theone for him.

This is a no pay gig, but we can offer the chosen one film credit, acopy of the film, food, jokes, kindness and fun!

If interested, please send a headshot and resume to aikwueme@gmail.com. Also, include a phone number so we can contact you.

Enigma

2008-07-08T00:10:00.005-04:00

You’re supposed to change your toothbrush every three months, right? I think so. Anyway, I change mine like every six to eight weeks. Why? I brush too hard and too often – apparently. In the morning, I brush at least twice, but most times three times, and I brush at night too. So in a day, I brush about four to six times. And then, of course, I floss and use Listerine mouth wash at least once a day. Weird?

See these two tooth brushes? The one by the left belongs to my mom, and the one by the right belongs to me. The thing is, my mom started using her tooth brush about two weeks before I started using mine. So why does mine look like I’ve been using it since we entered the new millennium? It probably has something to do with me being unable to withstand the temptation of chewing the bristles of my toothbrush. Why do I chew the bristles? This is just one of the many enigmas in my Verastic life.

Look at the bottom of the toothbrushes sef. On my mom’s toothbrush, you can see ‘Colgate’ written at the bottom. Mine is completely wiped off. When I brushed my teeth two days ago and found stray bristles on my tongue (that I almost swallowed, by the way), I realized three things: (1). I need to change my toothbrush. (2). I need to stop chewing the bristles of my toothbrush. (3). I might need psychotherapy. Could the chewing of my toothbrush be related to some deep childhood trauma? What could it be?? I think it happened when I was a little girl, about 6 or 7 and was forced to use McClean toothpaste instead of Close-Up. I hated McClean! I loved the red, seemingly transparent toothpaste. Oh, mommy…what have you done to me? I know what you’re thinking: what does Close-Up toothpaste have to do with chewing your bristles? Yeah, whatever!

Speaking of my toothbrush, for the past two weeks I have been suffering from a mysterious illness that apparently has no cure. It’s called the HARD & ITCHING NIPPLES SYNDROME. I am not quite sure why they have been mysteriously getting hard and itching. I have scratched and scratched and scratched, yet relief has been far and in between. The itch has been like a mosquito bite: ridiculously itching, sweet to scratch, but tantamount to causing tear and a permanent scar. My nipples, of course, are the last places I wanna have cuts and/or scars.

Last week, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I did the only thing I could think of doing: I went into the bathroom and put my toothbrush to good use. Yeap, I scratched the heck out of those nipples. They don’t itch anymore, but they still get unnecessarily hard (when is it ever necessary?). This, of course, is also an enigma.

Anyway, you might not have noticed, but I just included my address. I figured you all have been dying to send me hand-written letters. LOL. Please, feel very free to include some gifts – you know the usual…perfumes and Range Rovers. Yes, Rovers as in plural. LOL. But if you insist on sending perfumes, *rolling eyes* I’ll appreciate one or all of the following:

1. Miracle Forever by Lancome.
2. Romance by Ralph Lauren
3. Rock n Rose by Valentino
4. Diamonds by Emporio Armani
5. Princess by Vera Wang
6. Vera Wang by Vera Wang
7. Daisy by Marc Jacobs
8. Gucci by Gucci

Wait oh, am I seriously, publicly begging for perfumes on my blog? I have sunk to a new low. Hehehehehe. Needless to say, my love for perfumes is an enigma that I do not wish to figure out. I’m pretty content with just acquiring them.

Oh, I guess I should put that address up now. It can also be found on my profile.

P. O. BOX 7893
Essex, MD 21221

God Has A Crazy Sense Of Humor

2008-07-01T15:16:00.005-04:00

Saturday: I attended a fab wedding @ Sheraton Hotel. I wore a burgandy evening gown. Hair done - almost, make-up flawless - I think, and feet hurting - definitely. The wedding was nice. Food was nicer. The music was the nicest. My mother was one of the people on the "high table." So there I was standing in front of the high table talking to my mom when one of the men on the high table interrupted my conversation with my mom.

Him: Hello, my dear, what is your name?
Me: Vera
Him: And how old is Vera?
Me: XX
Him: Oh, really? Well, Vera, I have a few friends that are looking for wives.
Me: *smiling....what was I supposed to say???*

Later on, I was sitting solo by my table, watching the guests dance when Mr. Wife Finder came and pulled me off my seat without notice or permission. My mother was at the high table laughing @ me; she could see the look on my face. This man put his hands on my waist and said, "Oh, baby girl, you can dance! You're so beautiful. I can't believe no one has married you yet." I just jejely removed his hands from my waist. So what was the problem with this man, you ask?

1. HE IS MARRIED
2. His wife was also present at the wedding.
3. When he was at the table interrupting my conversation with my mom, his wife was there. Not only was she there, but she was seated between him & my mom, so he had to literally stretch over his wife to talk to me.
4. He's not young. He couldn't be less than ten years younger than my father.
5. He's short. With my heels, I was taller than him (and I'm 5' 5")
6. His wife is wayyyyy taller than both of us. She had to be about 5' 11" (I was thinking to myself that this woman fit vex just knack our heads join together.)

The man was so fascinated by me that I was uncomfortable. Which kin yeye wife is he finding for his friend? Nonsense!

SUNDAY: I attended a huge graduation party. The celebrant graduated from med school. Awesome!! As usual, I went armed with my camera and dance steps. I was taking pictures when some man came to me and said, "I love the way you're doing what you're doing." I just assumed he was referring to my dancing because it would have been really lame if he was talking about the way I was taking pictures. Later on, he started asking me all those yeye questions... Are you Nigerian? Oh, really? What part of Nigeria? Oh, so do you speak Igbo?....blah blah blah. He went his way, only to return later while I was dancing alone. The thing about dancing alone is that it allows all these nuisances to bug ya. This man started dancing some moves ehn... hmmm. To say that I was embarrassed would be the understatement of the day. My facial expression obviously didn't hide it. Uju was laughing @ me. My mom was laughing @ me. My mother's friends were laughing @ me. Whew! When I couldn't take it anymore, I told him I had to go take more pictures. The problem?

1. He was old! He already had white hair sprouting from his eyebrows.
2. He was short. I was taller than him.
3. He could not dance to save his life.
4. He threw four dollars on me, and when the person picking the money attempted to pick up the $4, the man vexed ehn! Wetin sef? Na on top four dollars I go dey collect public embarrassment? Mba o.
5. He is probably married too. I have no proof. This is just a safe assumption, although his marital status didn't matter because he was a no-no!

Monday: I was having what was supposed to be a professional conversation with some African American guy. He told me he was getting married in February, and we were discussing his options for tuxedo rentals, colors, etc. Next thing, he interrupted me in the middle of my sentence to say, "I'm sorry for interrupting you, but you got such a pretty smile." That kinda caught me off guard, but I said thanks. Then he said, "You're so beautiful." At this point, my eyebrows were raised. Then he said, "I know I'm getting married soon and I shouldn't be flirting with you, but you're just so beautiful." I didn't know what to say, so I just kept saying "thanks." At the end of the conversation sha, he apologized for making me feel unconfortable. The problem with this dude?

1. He's almost married.
2. He's obviously prone to cheat.
3. He's probably cheating already with someone else.

Anyway, so I assume this is all the handwork of God. He must think I'm finding this funny. Well, in all honesty, I am. What other choice do I have??

P.S. On Sunday, June 8th, I attended the christening of Uju's handsome nephew, Jordan. I've been forgetting to mention that you can view the pictures at http://www.verastic.shutterfly.com/

Robbin' Da Cradle

2008-06-21T00:01:00.004-04:00

Ah, my life. So here is what happened to me yesterday.

I was jejely sitting at a table in the public library, my laptop on and running with my online class displayed. I was supposed to be studying, but I was engrossed in my favorite author, Eric Jerome Dickey's book, PLEASURE, a book that had way more sex plots than I cared for.

As with every other good novel I have read, I was totally, unashamedly into the book, oblivious of my surrounding and the pair of eyes that had been watching me. But he interrupted my flow. The conversation that followed between us was fast paced and familiar in an unfamiliar way.

Him: What book are you reading?

Me: *taking my eyes away from the book and lifting my head to see a young guy standing on the other side of my table* Uhm... Pleasure by Eric Jerome Dickey.

Him: So why do you have your laptop on?

Me: I'm supposed to be using it.

Him: Why don't you use the ones here? *referring to the library computers*

Me: Cause I have mine.

Him: But these ones are free.

Me: So is mine.

Him: Are you writing a paper?

Me: No

Him: Is it for school?

Me: No

Him: Are you in school?

Me: Yeah.

Him: What school?

Me: XXXXX XXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXX

Him: What are you taking up there?

Me: Psychology.

Him: Oh, cool. So can you read my mind?

Me: *laugh...this is a question I have heard too many times* Not yet.

Him: Want to know what's on my mind?

Me: *smiling, realizing this dude was flirting with me* Tell me.

Him: I can help you; you can help me. You feel me?

Me: No, not really.

Him: Can I come over and draw it for you?

Me: Sure.

Him: *comes over to my right side. Draws two stick figures, one being me, and the other him. A bent arrow extends from my stick figure to his stick figure and another arrow from his stick figure to mine* Got it?

Me: *shaking my head* No. Tell me in words.

Him: *Pulls a chair and sits by my side, less than an arm's length away* You help me; I help you. We help each other. Cool?

Me: Cool.

Him: I might become crazy tomorrow, and you'll be my Psychologist.

Me: Okay.

Him: I know a lot about cars. Maybe I could fix yours some day.

Me: Cool.

Him: So maybe we could have ice cream, see a movie some time.

Me: *smiling uncontrollably, with much shame* How old are you?

Him: How old are you?

Me: I asked first.

Him: And I asked second.

Me: So answer first.

Him: Save the best for last.

Me: Tell me.

Him: How old do I look?

Me: Don't know.

Him: Guess.

Me: I'm bad at guessing.

Him: Practice.

Me: I did. Failed woefully @ it.

Him: I'm 18.

@ this point, I lowered my head in SHAME.

Him: Hold old are you?

Me: XX

Him: Cool.

Me: No, not cool. I'm XX years older than you.

Him: I know. I can do math.

Me: That's a lot of years.

Him: I know.

Me: You can do math.

Him: Yes. So what's up?

Me: *smiling* I can't do this.

Him: Why not?

Me: I'm older than you.

Him: So?

Me: So...I can't go see a movie with you.

Him: So you can't have a relationship with an 18 year old?

Me: No.

Him: I'm legal. It's not like I'm 17.

Me: I know.

Him: I should have lied and said I was 21

Me: I'd still be XX years older than you.

Him: You wouldn't date a twenty-one year old?

Me: *shaking my head* I wouldn't even date someone my age.

Him: So you're saying you can't learn anything from me?

Me: I didn't say that.

Him: So you can learn something from someone younger?

Me: Yeah, but not in the way you want me to.

Him: Can we be friends?

Me: Sure.

Him: Will you call me?

Me: I'll think about it.

Him: When will you let me know?

Me: When I'm done thinking about it.

Him: *looks at me funny like he could see through me, his look betraying his unbelief in my words* If I walk out of here, I might never see you again.

Me: I come here all the time. *lies*

Him: I don't. So you're gonna call me?

Me: Yes.

Him: How were you gonna call me? You didn't even ask for my number.

Me: I was going to. *lies*

Him: When?

Me: After this conversation *lies*

Him: *laughs* Who are you gonna ask for?

Me: You

Him: You didn't ask for my name.

Me: Was going to.

Him: When?

Me: After getting your number *lies*

Him: *looks @ me in that way that woulda made me tingle...if he was a man* What's your name?

Me: Vera *truth*

Him: Let me put my number in your phone.

I hand him the phone, he puts his number in and saves it under his name, Hakeem

A little girl is lurking close to him, about 11 or 12 years old. I ask: Is she your sister?

Him: *smiles* Yes. She's not my daughter.

Me: I didn't think she was. *truth*

Him: *stands up, stretches his hand out to shake mine* I'll be looking forward to hearing from you, Vera.

Me: *shaking his hand* You will. *LIES*

He was fine, no doubt. The conversation flowed well, almost literary and poetic, but after all was said and done, he was still 18, and I was still XX years older than him, unwilling to become a cougar. All I could think about were the insults I will receive from my big-mouthed friends, Uju & Busola. I could just hear the insults in my head:

So Vera, are you taking your man to Mickey D for a happy meal?
Is your man at the baby sitter's place?
Vera, were you his date to his high school prom?
Have you ever changed his diaper?
Busola will say, "Look, Hakeem, just because you're dating my friend does not mean you can disrespect me. After all, your mates call me Aunty."
What's your favorite Gerber flavor?
Vera, have you fed your man his bowl of cerelac?
What size does he wear, 2T or 3T? ('T' stands for toddler in children's clothes).

Kai.... my Verastic life!

**** Hakeem is not his real name. And yes, this is a true life story.*******

Priceless!

2008-06-12T12:32:00.005-04:00

His Versace sunglasses ------- $200

His 2008 Acura RL ----------$46, 280

His colgate smile -------------$1, 000, 000

The blush on my cheeks when I caught him staring @ me ---- $9.99 (from Revlon)

The look on my face when I realized that he was a she ------- PRICELESS!!!

There are somethings in life that money can't buy. For everything else, there is Mastercard...to buy medicated glasses, so I can better differentiate between men & women.

This is a true life story...unfortunately

I Met Mr. Kisser.....Again!

2008-06-03T12:19:00.005-04:00

If you don't know who Mr. Kisser is, please click HERE

Where do I start?? Okay, I'll start from Sunday morning.

My blogville husband, NaijaBloke (yes, we are still married!) came into town. He forgot his charger, so he came to meet me in church on Sunday morning to get my charger (which he was supposed to give me back later, but forgot to... but anyways... lol). I was to meet him later that night at a big party in Capitol Heights.

But first, I had to attend a little graduation reception. Busola's sister graduated from high school, so I went over to pay my respects. I didn't have time to buy her a gift, but I remembered to return her mother's plate - the one I used to take rice home in May. I was trying to find parking when I drove into something. I thought it was nothing until I was ready to leave and realized I had a flat tire. Crap! My front passenger tire was gone.

Busola's dad and uncle helped me fix my spare tire. I didn't even know I had a spare tire and a jack in my trunk. It's amazing how many things I don't know about my car. The spare tire, as I learnt from Busola's dad, was a doughnut. It was one tiny tire that looked like it belonged to a motorcycle.

In spite of my discomfort with the tire, I drove one hour to Capitol Heights to meet NaijaBloke. The party was bubbling. The musician was Mr. Solek. I had never heard about him till that day, but he was really good. The music was the kind that had you bopping your head and tapping your feet unconsciously. I really wanted to dance, but Funmi and the rest were not there to act stupid with me on the dance floor. NaijaBloke was on the dance floor talking with his friends and he asked me to come & dance. I was still sitting down doing shakara... until I spotted Mr. Kisser.

I jumped up from my seat and ran to NaijaBloke. I told him I needed to make a call, so I ran outside & called Funmi. The stupid girl just laughed @ me. I went back inside and went straight to the dance floor. I tried [unsuccessfully] to cover my face with my braids. That dance that I was doing shakara for ehn, I started dancing it immediately. I refused to look @ Mr. Kisser's face, but I had to watch him from the corner of my eyes to make sure he was not too close.

Eventually, our eyes met. But I chickened out and looked away immediately. LOL. Mr. Kisser kept looking @ me, but I kept dancing and acting oblivious to the pair of eyes that were watching me closely. I knew Mr. Kisser would not approach me as long as I was with NaijaBloke. But when I got tired of the staring, I told NaijaBloke that I had to leave. Really, I was tired, but that was not my main reason for running away. Bloke said I should give him 5 minutes. He went to talk to his friends. Those five minutes felt like five hours. I felt so alone. So vulnerable. So naked! Mr. Kisser was still watching me. He was trying to make me sweat. LOL.

Finally, Bloke walked me outside. If you see the speed I used to drive off ehn... I didn't even care that I was driving on a doughnut. Kai! Which kin wahala be dis? The reason why I really didn't wanna talk to Mr. Kisser was because I had been ignoring his calls. I had stopped picking his calls after that one conversation we had where he complimented the ebony skin that I didn't have.

I told my marine friend about my ordeal, and he had a good suggestion: next time I'm in such a situation, I should approach the person first and accuse him of not calling me or returning my calls. LOL. See me see madness ooo! If I had done that, Mr. Kisser woulda called me crazy. LOL.

Anyway, I fixed my tire yesterday (after visiting 3 different locations under the hot sun). They said the hole was so big that it could not be patched. I got a new tire. Don't ask me where the hell I drove my car into. I've been asking myself the same question. Bloke had the nerves to say that women cannot drive. I go wound pesin oo!

Six Quirks About Me

2008-05-23T15:07:00.007-04:00

To all the people who tagged me, I say: UNA DO WELL OOO!!! If not that I have the fear of God in me ehn, I for show una shege! Who told you people I wanna be tagged? Respect urselves ooo! If this happens again, I cannot promise not to break a few fingers. Ehen..

The Rules:

1. Link the person who tagged you to this post - Dark ElCee, Aloof, & Standtall

2. Mention the rules in your blog - Yes, that's what you're reading right now.

3. Tell 6 unspectacular quirks of yours - Only six?? Ok

4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them - I'll do that @ the end of my post

5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged - I'll do that as soon as I publish this post.

Six Quirks Bout Me:

1. I play with my breasts. It's not sexual, but I just can't stop. It's been a [bad] habit since I was a kid. I have tried to stop, but I can't. I always catch my hand in my shirt doing God-knows-what. Sometimes, I hold the entire breast; sometimes, just the nipple. I hold the steering wheel with my left hand and hold my breast with my right hand. I've been caught at traffic lights by male drivers, and they've usually given me the you-don't-have-to-do-it-yourself look. I've had to zoom off as soon as the light turns green.

2. I talk to myself. I know most people do, but when I talk to myself, I count my syllables. I add up the syllables of all the words I have spoken to myself, and I make sure they are even. I don't want my speech to myself to be odd. Example: I won't say "Oh God, look at that" because it's 5 syllables. I'd rather say "Oh, my God, look at that" because it's six syllables.

3. I won't order pizza with pineapples on it, but I don't mind eating it. The catch is that I must pick all the pineapples out. Now here is the weird part: I'll eat the pineapples as long as I throw a piece in my mouth, and then take a bite of pizza. It makes no sense. I might as well eat the pizza with the pineapple on it. But I can't. I have to separate them, and then eat them together,

4. When I'm doing number two (AKA 'shitting'), I make sounds as if I'm pushing a baby. I even tell myself to push. I breath thru pursed lips and wipe the invisible sweat on my forehead. Then I'll keep screaming things like "Yam, you did this to me!"... depending on what I ate before doing number two. If it's Chinese food, I'll say, "Chinese food, you did this to me!!" I guess when I'm in real labor, I'll say [insert my future husband's name here], you did this to me!"

5. I'm obsessed with greeting cards. I love giving them as much as I love receiving them. I have sooooo many cards for my future husband. I even have cards for our first wedding anniversary. Now that I have the cards ready, all I need is the husband. That shouldn't be too difficult, right? LOL. I have birthday cards for guys, girls, and even kids. I have Valentine cards for my future hubby too. It's a sad, sad case, I tell you. I'm ashamed of even admitting it.

6. I keep weird things. In 2004 (or was it 2003), my marine friend gave me a pack of gum. I am yet to eat it; I never will. In February of this year, a six year old boy gave me a lolipop for Valentine. I'm also yet to eat that. I keep the little papers that are tucked inside fortune cookies; I keep movie tickets & put the names of the owners on them, and of course, I keep cards too. I still have cards from seven years ago.

7. (call this extra credit). I'm a sniffer. I sniff my bed; I sniff the couch; I sniff my purse; I sniff my wallet; I sniff the inside of my car (I've thought about sniffing my engine, but I haven't done so yet); I sniff people; I sniff my hair (fake or real); I sniff my stuffed animals; I sniff my pet fish, Philip (So far, I have been able to withstand the temptation of perfuming him). When I get my German Shepherd dogs, I will sniff them too. I will sniff my future husband & children. I sniff my clothes, shoes, and jewelry. I even sniff my keys. (What normal person sniffs keys? I do. Yes, I refer to myself as 'normal'). I sniff my laptop, my books, my pens, my breasts, my underarms, my hands, my feet...everything that is sniffable gets sniffed. Did you know that our sense of smell is our strongest one? I think I have an itty bitty problem with smell. This is evidenced by the following:

- The perfumes I have (over 30...and still counting)
- The 7 air freshners in my car (lucky number 7??)
- The perfume in my purse (in case I forget to perfume @ home)
- The endless list of perfumes I'm still gonna get (and they are not cheap! Somebori help me please; I'm broke!)
- The 3 air fresheners in the bathroom.
- The liquid air freshners in the living room (those ones you pour in a little thingy and place a lighted candle underneath them. What are they called again??
- And of course, the Febreeze fabric freshener I always spray on the couch.

P.S. I refuse to vacuum without carpet deodorizer!

And on the day that I vacuum, I refuse to cook! If I cook, the smell of the food will spoil the smell of the carpet deodorizer. I'd rather stay hungry than compromise the smell of the carpet.

Feel free to call me weird. You won't be the first.

I tag the following people: Black James Bond, Tobenna, The Last King of Scotland, Babasola, Boorish Male, Tayo Odukoya.

Did anyone notice I tagged only guys?? Sorry ladies, today is not your day. LOL. If you've already done the tag...oh well.

UPDATE: Standtall suggested that I tag Funmie...in spite of her being female *rolling eyes*. So Funmie, consider yourself tagged!

Happy Birthday, Funmie!!!

2008-05-15T00:01:00.005-04:00

This is a scheduled post. If it appears on my blog on Thursday, May 15th 2008 @ 12:01 AM, then that means it made it on time. If not....oops!

Today is Funmie's birthday. I'm grateful to God for granting her another wonderful year. He is faithful. I'm obviously dedicating this entire post to Funmi. She's worth it and much more.

I met Funmie in 2002. We have been inseparable since then...and I do not mean this in a romantic way. She's fine, but she is not that fine. Funmie is the bestest friend a gal could wish for. She's kind, she's loving, she's generous, she's sweet, she's funny, she's dumb, she's nice (a little too nice sometimes...but anyway)... and she's beautiful - inside and out.

At the risk of sounding queer, I must admit that Funmi has spoilt me, and continues to spoil me. When I did not have a car, she would come to my house in the morning to gimme a ride – even though I never asked her to (okay, maybe I asked her a few times). And it was not like my house was even on her way. She actually went out of her way to pick me up.

She always comes to my house to chill with me on my birthday, and she always buys me cake. She has bought me sooo many shoes that I have lost count. E don tey since Funmi dey spoil me ooo! She always buys me just-because gifts. The man who ends up with Funmi will be the luckiest man (after the man that marries me, of course. LOL). And her culinary skills are da bomb!

When I started writing Every Woman, Funmi was so into it, and was so determined to make me write that she started buying me stuff for every chapter I wrote. Come on, how many friends will do that?? For every blog post I put up – no matter how insignificant it may be, Funmi takes out time to leave comments. Funmi is my biggest fan.

If anything were to arise tomorrow, I can trust Funmi to be by my side. If I should find myself in the middle of a scandal tomorrow, I can trust Funmi to still take my side. She may yell at me privately, but outside, she will defend me. Recent events have proven that she will not wash her hands of me when the going gets bad; she’ll stick with me – which is why I have promised her a permanent spot in the boot (trunk) of my future Range Rover. LOL.

Funmi is a rare gem. I will not give her up for anything. Funmi is just like Panadol – if e no be Funmi, e no go fit be like Funmi. Where else will I find a friend whose shoe and bra I can share? And if you care 2 know, no, we do not share thongs. I may have stolen a few new thongs, but that’s what friends do, right?

My prayers for Funmi:

1. May you be all that you aspire to be in life.
2. May God grant you long life & prosperity.
3. May you not ever be far away from me.
4. May you always be available to cook egwusi soup for me.
5. May you continue to spoil me.
6. May we continue to have the same shoe and bra size – so we can continue to share. By the way, where’s my white strapless bra???
7. May you have at least one child on my birthday – Jan 14th.
8. May you stay beautiful – inside & out.
9. May you always have reasons to smile and show off your gorgeous dimples.
10. May you learn to ride a bicycle. Riding the immobile bike in the gym does not count as knowing how to ride a bicycle. Somebori, please tell her.
11. May you always remain my one & only Fufustic Fufu (yes, this is a name I made up for Funmie)

Funmie, some day, I’ll make the money you have been dreaming about, and then perhaps, I can spoil you a little bit. If you want, we can even go on a honeymoon trip, just the two of us. Just say the word, love.

Happy Birthday! I love you to bits.

…Oya, start wishing my Funmi a happy birthday.

And by the way, Funmi... I did not type this post in light of recent events. I typed this up ever since...which is why I was asking for your picture. I had no intention of "editing" it. And I did not edit this post either.

Does This Mean That I Am No Longer Anonymous??

2008-05-05T12:35:00.003-04:00

On Saturday, May 3rd, I attended a get-together celebrating the 5th birthday of Nigerian Village Square. I was invited by Dimaanu, one of the members of NVS. I wasn't gonna go...cause you know I am anonymous *cough*, but Dimaanu used her sweet mouth to convince me to come. I was supposed 2 go with Uju and Funmi, but I ended up going with only Uju. Funmi had some issues with her job, and could not get off work early enough.

I'm really glad I went. I met lots of beaurriful people - inside and out.

I met Big K - the founder & administrator of NVS. He's soooooo down to earth. He came all the way from Chicago. I had to beg him 2 stop dancing Yahoozee b4 the Yahoozee police arrests him for "overdancing"
I met Dimaanu, and she was just as sweet as the egwusi soup she cooked. I was gonna pour some of the soup in my purse sef, but as per first impression, I didn't want 2 disgrace myself - YET
I met Wayo Guy, but contrary to his name, there is nothing wayo about him. He actually hosted us. And he had a very lively personality.
I met Baba Boyz - a very funny guy. Easy to talk to, and a great sense of humor. He asked me about Mr. Kisser; he wanted to know if it was a true story. Sadly, Mr. Kisser really does exist.
I met Atomic Kitten - this kitten was very atomic indeed. Na oversexy dey do am. (I learnt the term 'oversexy' from Mr. Total Package)
I met Omojeje - she could not stop dancing & smiling. I think she was blushing for me. What can I say? We had kemistry. LOL
I met African Chiquito No. 1 - and she refused to reveal her real name, but as fate will have it, I have found out the name she has been hiding. I was not seeking the in4mation oo. I was jejely sitting down, and gbam, information came & met me. Who am I to reject such inifo?
I met Arseyme - another beaurriful babe. She seemed quiet and shy, but who knows sef? If a loud trouble maker like Uju can come across as shy, then the possibilities are endless.
I met Churchill Okonkwo & his gorgeous wife whose name I cannot remember at this time, but they are a beaurriful couple.

There were so many others, but my mind is kinda running blank right now, so bear with me. But it was really nice meeting them all. We're looking forward to having a bigger party next year. Big K has appointed me as one of the organizers. Oh boy!

The thing I love most about NVS is its maturity and intellectuality. Some of these other forums are filtrated with small pikins that cannot contribute anything to one's intelligence. If anything, they suck your brain cells. NVS, on the other hand, is filled with beaurriful, smart people - you know kind of like me. LOL. So if they say smart, beaurriful people should come out now, I go follow comot abi? LOL.

So now that I have revealed myself AND taken pictures which are now on the internet (although I was not tagged in any of the pictures), does that mean I am no longer anonymous?? Well, I'm still anonymous. That's my story & I'm sticking to it! After all, there are some people that still don't know what I look like. But kai, it's so much easier to not be anonymous. I'm tired of hiding. The fact that I write with my real name makes it even harder. *sigh*

Of course, I took lotsa pictures of everyone (including myself). I woulda put up pictures of some of the villagers, but I did give them my word that I wasn't gonna put them on my blog. Since I am a woman of her words - except 4 instances where I change my mind, I will not post their pictures.

If you are not a member of NVS, you should do so now. http://www.nigeriavillagesquare.com/ You won't regret it.

Meanwhile, please take a moment to read my new article: By Their Looks, You Shall Know Them. And don't forget 2 leave comments o!

Shallom.

The Waist vs. Hips Pheomenon

2008-04-30T00:51:00.006-04:00

I was reading my Psyc textbook the other day, and I came across some interesting stuff. Well, it might not be interesting to you, but you know how I find everything 'interesting.'

According to my Psyc textbook, men generally prefer women whose waists are 30% smaller than their hips.

So guess what I did? Yeap, you guessed it. I got my measuring tape (which is always handy by the way), and I got to measuring.

It is with great difficulty and shame that I regret to announce the news: my waist is 7% bigger than it should be, which means that my waist is only 23% smaller. **sigh**

So I've been wondering, and pondering how to fix this new physical problem I just found out (as if I don't have enough already!) I have come up with three options:

Option 1: Decrease my waist size by 7%. This will be achieved by doing 500 sit ups in the morning, 500 sit ups during lunch, and 500 sit ups in the night. I'll even have sit ups for dessert and snacks sef. In addition to this, I will eat only fruits & veggies, drink gallons of water, and run to wherever I'm going to. After all, running will save me some gas. I will also wear an extra tight corset 24/7 amd tie my stomach with that big belt. Back in the day, the belt was known as an 'abortion belt.' Whether this belt aborted any babies or not has been a mystery 2 me. I'm hoping it didn't.

Option 2: Increase my hips size by 7%. No dietery changes will be necessary for this. I'll just continue the diet I am currently on. It is known as the eat-sleep-then-eat-again diet. So far, it has worked for me. This will explain the rapid increase in my butt and thighs. At first, I thought it had something to do with global warming and the price of gas, but apparently not.

Option 3: Scrap the whole thing. These Psychologists dunno what they're talking about! As far as I'm concerned, 23% is the new 30% anyway.

...Yeap, I'm definitely going for option 3, albeit Option 2 is embedded in it...kinda sorta (but without the increase in hips size abeg).

LOL.

Note to God: Please understand that Option 2 is only a joke! If I wake up tomorrow morning and find one inch added to my hips, we go fight ooo! Make you no carry this kin thing dey play with me. Ehen. Let no1 say I did not tell God o because He has a way of playing practical jokes on me, and they are not funny!!!

So ladies, how much smaller is your waist???

To measure your waist, use your belly button as a landmark. Put the tape on your belly button and go around your tummy.

To measure your hips, use the farthest/biggest part of your butt as a landmark. Make sure the tape is lying on the side sticking out by the side of your thigh. If you do not have a side sticking out, then sorry o. E get as e be. LOL

This Should Be About Uju, But Is It?

2008-04-22T22:44:00.002-04:00

Friday, April 18th was Uju’s birthday. Her boyfriend got us VIP passes at Heritage Lounge in D.C. I went there with my buddy. Funmi went with Ibukun. Wait, lemme talk about my buddy for a second.

I was gonna call him Mr. Perfect Teeth because he has perfect teeth. I kid you not. He has the kind of teeth you would use in a commercial for braces. His teeth would represent the ‘after’ shot(s). His teeth will show you how good your teeth could look after using braces. The lucky guy never even wore braces! But then I decided not to call him Mr. Perfect Teeth because he is also a fine boy, so maybe I should call him Mr. Fine Boy. However, I could call him Mr. Gorgeous Smile because his smile is gorgeous. He has that Colgate smile. You know the one I’m talking about. I’m talking about that kind of smile that makes you smile when nothing is funny. You just smile because you see a smile. I could also call him Mr. Generous. Giving seems to come very easily for him. And he always does it with a smile on his face. What about Mr. Well Groomed? His hair is cut low and very neat. He has just the right amount of facial hair. Enough hair to tickle you, but not enough to prick you like little needles – not that I have experienced it. *coughs*

I can actually call him Mr. Bangin Body. Yeah, he’s got a beautiful body. His muscles are not over the top; they’re just perfect. His arms tell you he spends some time lifting things (or people), and the six quadrants on his stomach tell a story of their own. And he’s also Mr. Thoughtful. He wants what he wants, but he is not selfish. He likes what he likes, but he’ll gladly do what you like – even though he doesn’t like it. He’s Mr. Sexy. A good-smelling man is a wonderful man. A man who looks as good as he smells is a WONDERFULER man. He is Mr. Good Dresser. He always dresses the part; you don’t have to worry about him showing up wearing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

After considering the different names my buddy could bear, I finally decided on one name: Mr. Total Package. I need not explain this one. He’s got the total package.

…But uhm, this post is about Uju *rolling eyes*. Anyway, the event @ Heritage Lounge was being hosted by a Ghanaian. That has to be the only logical explanation for why they played Ghanaian music all thru. No Yahoozee, no P-Square, no Timaya. I vexed oo. (Actually, they played ‘Yahoozee’ & ‘Do Me’ once, but that was b4 we came in, so that doesn’t count!) They coulda @ least played some Makosa. To top it off, they now had a Ghanaian celebrity. We (the Naija people) had no clue who he was, but as we later found out, he was a rapper. See the way chics were running to take pictures with the dude ehn? Nawa o. Celebrity status no bad @ all sha.

Uju was drunk, or maybe just tipsy. Whatever it was, I know she was not herself. She was dancing with her eyes closed and laughing unnecessarily. Unfortunately, we didn’t take pictures. I had my camera, but everyone (except me) was too busy being naughty. When Mr. Total Package asked me what I wanted to drink, I ordered a Bone Crusher (Maybe it’s spelt ‘Krusher’). I had never heard about this drink before. I only ordered it because Uju said I should. The thing tasted like pure alcohol. I might have as well been sipping from a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I only drank about a quarter of it. Uju drank the rest (in addition to the one she had before). The chic was very happy ooo..

It wasn’t a bad event anyway. I’m hoping I don’t appear in anyone’s pictures coz you know I’m an anonymous writer, lol. After the event, Uju left with her boyfriend. Can you believe the chic put her head out of the window of the moving car and was screaming her lungs out at three in the morning? I don’t know bout you, but that definitely spells DRUNK to me. Kai, I wish I had taken pictures. Funmi & Ibukun went their way. Mr. Total Package and I went our way – to wherever hot men and anonymous writers go to.

I didn’t sleep till past 8 in the morning. You shoulda seen my face. I looked like I had been hit by a bus. A puffy face is definitely not my best look.

The Search For A Push-Up Bra

2008-04-17T01:08:00.007-04:00

This is my second time blogging about bras. What is it with me and bras sef? The first time I blogged about bras, I was blogging about strapless bras - the day that my mother confidently asked for a sleeveless bra. What on earth is a sleeveless bra?!

Tomorrow (Friday, April 18th) is Uju's birthday. Her boyfriend suggested that we all take her out. I'm fine with this idea, of course. My only problem is that she has not given me my birthday gift yet, and I am seriously considering suing her to court. My birthday was 3 months ago, and she has been turning me up and down. You might think that she is not obligated to give me a birthday gift, but I believe otherwise. I'm pretty sure she does not want me to forcefully take it. If I do not receive my birthday gift in the nearest future, she will be sorry. She kuku knows what I am capable of.

Anyway, I went to Macy's today in search of a push-up bra. I patrolled the entire lingerie section fruitlessly. I figured I must have been looking in the wrong section, so I asked one of the staff. She pointed a different area of the lingerie section for me to check out. I looked through the place, and indeed found a lot of push-up bras, but none that came in my size. Instead, I was constantly attacked by size 32A. What the heck is that?! Is that even a size?? Seriously, should 32A cups even wear bras? Maybe that's what is stunting the growth of the breasts sef. Why on earth will someone with a 32A cup even wear a bra? You should let the breasts be free and be merry.

If you look at the picture very well, you will notice that by the left side of the bra, there is a before and after picture. The before picture is called, 'THEN' and the after picture is called 'WOW'. Well, eventually, I found a push up bra. I wore it @ Macy's, and it didn't seem bad. I came home and tried it on with the top I intend to wear on Friday, and my result was not WOW. It was more like WOW x WOW x WOW x WOW. Okay, so I guess I understand why push-up bras don't really come in my size. In other words, tooooo much breasts were flying all over the place. Alright, maybe not all over, but darn, I don't wanna mistake my own breasts for big, round yellow stress balls. I assume that the pain that stress balls go thru is way too much for my breasts to bear. I don't think any amount of anesthesia will be strong enough. I don't even wanna find out.

I took a picture of my breasts with the push-up bra and sent it to Funmi for her viewing pleasure. I am yet to get a reply. On one hand, the bad chic in me (if she is not a figment of my imagination) wants to wear the push-up bra, but on the other hand, the good girl in me (the one I know definitely exists, lol) does not want to wear it. I'm so torn and confused. I don't want a situation where I'm constantly tugging at my shirt and trying to cover up. That would be silly.

I have to confess that I do admire women who wear push-up bras. They usually look nice (not all of them, of course), but can Vera actually be woman enough to do it? I don't think so oooo. I have been known to be a chicken, and I am proud to admit that I am indeed a chicken. Wetin man [woman] go do?

Note to Uju (and all other people who owe me gifts; you know yourselves), here is a list of perfumes you should get me. You're welcome to get me more than one. And uhm, I'll prefer the gift sets ooooooo. *coughs* I went out of my way to provide the prices of the gift sets for you. You can thank me later.

1. Miracle Forever by Lancome [$55 @Macy's]

2. Romance by Ralph Lauren [$75 @ Macy's]

3. Rock n Rose by Valentino [$68 @ Macy's]

4. Pleasures by Estee Lauder [$58 @ Macy's]

5. M by Mariah Carey [$65 @ Macy's]

6. Covet by Sarah Jessica Parker [$72 @ Macy's]

p.s. These are listed in order of preference. Thank you. I'll be expecting my giftS.