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SacRiFicE

Hey guys, welcome to today’s Sunday Guest. I hope you enjoyed @cikk0’s post yesterday. Today though, we shall tone down the humour, wit and sarcasm and read something different.
Our guest marks her birth today so do well to wish her a happy birthday while commenting. Welcome with me to My scroll, @Ibetapassmynebo
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#np Elton John – Sacrifice… For some reason, My dad loves this song. Why? I don’t know. I just laugh in my mind and hope never to sacrifice my “yahuza” chicken for him…I Kent!
By the way, what you are about to read is a true life story. I don’t do fiction. I am not James Cameron…I am Amy Nwunye-Donjazzy…famzing right? I know..just like that eczema will famz with your teeth till death do you both part.

*Is the Mic on?*… August 14th…it is my birthday today and I am supposed to be partying hard right? Blowing candles, making silent wishes, tearing gift boxes right? Right! First of all, thank you KeLvin for allowing me take over your blog today. I know I am supposed to be funny and all but I am sorry because I am going to disappoint your readers! You wanna know why? Simple…. “PAY ME” *in odika baboon’s voice*…if you think it is easy to make people laugh then why do you have to pay JuLius and ALibaba (withAnL) to crack your ribs? Of course some of you would say you won’t pay such amount but buy the CD from Ejiro or you will watch it Free on HiTV…shebi u go still pay Nepa Bill?… You see nothing is free and I am not indebted to make you laugh. Even the udeme wey my papa shack when he knack my mama during the night of my conception was not free!!!

As we were, every year on my birthday I take out time to reflect on things that have occurred, my many mistakes, favors, opportunities, family, relationships, everything. Trust me, I have gone through a lot and sometimes I am tempted to question God, but I still wan go heaven, so quietly I dey mellow! I got inspired to write about “Sacrifice”. Sacrifice, (Not “EBO” ohh), i believe, is very subjective to each individual. That is; what is “sacrifice” to Lanre could mean sharing his sunday rice and chicken with John. To Henry, it could mean giving Chinelo his last 3k for her BIS. To Efe, it could be looting xmas clothes from Primark for Georgina knowing he could be deported and to Femi, it could mean using his Lunch Money to pay for Diana’s transport fee and it goes on (no it’s not who you think it is).

I grew up knowing that Jesus Christ sacrificed his life for us on the cross of calvary to pay for our sins. We also heard of those who lost their lives trying to save others drowning in recent floods, We hear of NEPA officials getting electrocuted on Electric Poles. Many would say, “I can’t kill myself for anyone oh, I can’t drink panadol for any person, I can’t give up my last yamarita for even my best friend..” yadi yadi yada… We hear you! I used to be the dean of that Faculty but something happened some years back.

I sacrificed part of my freedom, my future, my life’s blueprint, and even my destiny! I used to be a student of Uni-Ilorin. In my 4th year, I had this friend In my department and NO, we were not close but we hung out couple of times. It was time for our first semester examination and I went to collect a textbook from her when she received a call from home informing her that her “fiance” was attacked by armed robbers and shot dead on his way to meet her family to finalise wedding plans.
She was devastated, wept forever and wanted to leave school. I tried to calm her down reminding her it was our final year and the issue of extra year should never be an option. Even at that, she had a carry over course in two days.

I checked on her the next day and was told she had been admitted in the hospital. I felt really bad for her and took it upon myself to write the carry over course for her. A very stupid and risky decision I must say, but I decided to “sacrifice” everything at that time, just to give her enough time to get better.

On the day of the exam, I went in, finished up and when it was time to submit, somehow I got caught! It happened so fast but I was quick enough to shade out her matric number in order not to implicate her.
There, an exam-malpractice form was filled for me and all I could think of was the wonderful story I would tell my family and the amount of “bulala” and slaps I would receive and possible “dis-owning”.
I faced displinary panel two weeks later. I was told If I confessed who I wrote for, we would both go on suspension for a year otherwise I alone, would be rusticated. I refused to be a “RAT” so I decided to damn the consequences and serve the punishment alone. I went out, called my family one by one and reported myself. I almost lost my dad that day because he was driving when I called and he almost had an accident. I was called back in and handed my rustication letter. I tried hard to fight back the tears but sighting my friend crying, I let a drop roll down my cheeks, smiled, hugged her and wished her success in her exams and told her never to blame herself for my action!

To my surprise, my family gave me a warm welcome and promised to get me back into school that year and they did. I got admission into another Federal University barely after a month. I still kept in touch with my friend and was at her wedding in March early in the year. I graduated about a month ago with a first class ( I know…I am smart like that 🙂 ) and awaiting service!

The moral of the story- SACRIFICE. A goal-driven individual as I am, who works with time frame, never believed I would find myself in such a self-inflicted situation. I have tried using that “every disappointment is a blessing” talk but it never worked. But hey….this post would have never come up… So ¯\..(•͡.̮ •͡ )../¯

By the way, I am not saying you should slap your boss tomorrow at work because he was yelling at your “office P”, neither am I saying you should Jump in front of Lorry in the name of Bruno… All i am saying is that you should sacrifice your last unit on your phone and call your family and friends in England make sure they are safe and remind them on what items to loot, I am saying you should sacrifice that money for Vodka and get me a birthday gift…OK really I am just saying we should learn to stand up for the pregnant woman who clearly is heavy and has oedema, that you should give that last “baba blue” to the bus conductor, that you should let go of the “1/10” of your salary, whatever sacrifice means to you….Just do it 😀

Ps: pls sacrifice your credit and call or text me…or your time to DM me to wish me a happy birthday…I will not tolerate “HBD…LLPN…GBY” thank you.

 
34 Comments

Posted by on August 14, 2011 in SunDaY GuEsT

 

BimBo!

Aloha my people. Its that time of week again where we give ‘voice’ to other writers to share stuff with us.
Today’s guest is no stranger to blogville. I made the mistake of reading his blog and ever since, I’ve been hooked. Crazily funny does no justice in describing him. He’s simply out-of-this-world. Without much ado, Ladies, Gentlemen and those sexually confused, enjoy @Terdoh

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First of all, before we start, I want to congratulate Oga Ke_v #WithAnL for winning the only award every blog comedian was craving for. No be small thing! He has become my sworn enemy whether he likes it or not. Yeah. That aside, I know everyone says “It’s an honor to be on such a renowned blog, I hope I can live up to expectations”, fuck that shit men! I am planning to reduce the humor bar on the blog as much as I can. Believe it or yes, by the time I am done with this post, you won’t visit this site again!!! Mark my words!

(Insert my score here abeg)

Okay, on to the boring post.

I. Love. Dumb. Girls! INSTANT TURNON!!!!!
Okay. *pauses to focus on growing erection*
What (or who, in this case) is a dumb girl? A dumb girl, or Bimbo, is a creative piece of art strategically placed on the surface of God’s lovely earth to enable any member of the male homo sapien species, who possess any minute form of brain power, effectively reproduce, replenish and fill the earth.
Definition toh behd yo! Did it myself! *shines golden tooth*

Yes, so we have defined a Bimbo as a very attractive woman who is thick in the skull. That is not all. She has to have loose morals. When I say loose, I mean LOOSE, like Yar’ Adua’s hold on the presidential seat. Rest In Peace soul brava.
Now, lemme go straight to the point, I absolutely love dumbos! They drive me crazy! Nuts! *no pun intended* A lot of people went hard in the “What men want” era, *side eye at Kelvin* and I found myself asking, do men really (REALLY) want a smart chick?

Really?

Smart chicks are hard to fool. And possessive smart chicks are the average guy’s worst nightmare! “Where were you? What have you been doing? Who were you with? I recorded all your phone conversations on my iPad, and I know who you’ve been talking to. I called Jay, and he said he hasn’t seen you all day. I left cameras in your office, you weren’t there. Don’t lie to me! I know when you’re lying! Your pupils dilate and your heart beats at the rate of 324 times every 90 seconds. And I crosschecked your call log. You said you tried my number and it wasn’t going? Well, I can’t see my number in there!”
Meanwhile, a brother just went to have shayo with the boys for the first time in 2 years.

You really don’t want that.

You want a dumb chick, a bimbo, a Barbie bimbo that goes with the trend and gets impressed when you string incoherent lengthy English words together and get on your Patrick Obahiagbon flow.
Trust me you do. Personal experience talking here.
I went out with this Somalian goddess of light once. She was lovely! Face like two goddesses had lesbian sex and produced her, body like an hour glass that was designed by the Sun god Ra himself, and the best part, was that I could bet that her IQ was negative. Dumber than a blonde that couldn’t speak!
I loved her.
We used to have fun going to various places; beaches, parks, and museums. Oh! Museums! I would get kicks off making my own explanation for different works of art and would mentally climax each time she went “You’re so smart! You know everything!”
One terrible, fateful day, we were texting and she saw the word “Schizophrenia” as my bbm status, and she asked me why it was my bbm stat. I said I thought I was coming down with it owing to the incomprehensible scribbling at the back of my notepad. She said it was not plausible, as schizophrenic patients don’t know that they have schizophrenia.

I was devastated! She used the word ‘plausible’!!

She had become smart!! Overnight? Nooo!!! We broke up two days (and two smart explanations) after. I lost that jewel. Painful shit I tell ya.
Dumb chicks do this thing to me that I don’t understand. They make me cum quicker. No be joke. Sexy, thick-cranium-possessing babes are an instant turn on. I notice them and I go gaga. A babe that I have to explain every joke to, a babe that I can lie to and get away with, a babe that thinks Insomnia is an Asian country, a babe I can practice my blank stare on, a ‘Barbie’.
I like my shawties block headed and proud of it!

I think that’s the end. I hope you were annoyed by the post. Remember not to visit this blog again, or you will see more posts like this, or worse!

You have been warned.

DisCLAIMER:
I mean everything I have said in this post! I don’t joke with my emotions. If you are a lovely bimbo and you have read up to this point, and in the back of your head, you’re going “I really fit the criteria, don’t I?” then please call this number 07036283749. Flash me till I don’t pick. :D. As usual, spell checking is for dummies, and all gbagauns are not mine. Please return them to their owners. Thank you.

Read more of @Terdoh’s stuff at http://www.terdoh.wordpress.com

 
55 Comments

Posted by on August 7, 2011 in SunDaY GuEsT

 

My MuSic PlaYeR

Hey People, in continuation of our Sunday Guest Category, we have the pleasure of reading a random piece from one of my guys. Kinda a deviation from the typical humour we see on here but in my opinion creative nonetheless.
Remember though, sundays are for Guest writers on here. If you feel you wanna take the plunge and put your GOOD stuff out there, do hola at me, yeah?
In the meantime, enjoy @nugwatweets’ music shuffle and his interpretation of the songs!

Its 10p.m,Sitting at home eating oatmeal cookies (ben and jerry’s aint got nothing on this) Watching TV, well I was…now I’m typing…Warning… this will be incoherent…*pours a glass of Starmont Chardonnay*Say what? It’s cheap? Waka…*plugs in earpiece*

Hate to know what’s coming on next… kills the buzz when I do…I’m weird ☺…*Selects Random* Songs determine my mood…*sighs*

Five for fighting – Its not easy to be me,
Gidi-born, gidi bred, naija buttered… growing up was fun… Never knew my dad much… he travelled around a lot, years on end. My mum was everything. That was a conscious effort, because making sure your kids lacked nothing even without their father was no mean feat… civil servants don’t get paid much. No pity party here, kids with New York and Manchester as 3rd term holiday destinations weren’t asking for pity.*sips from wine-glass*
It’s unlike me to be home on a Saturday night…my crazy cousins must have somewhere to drag me to… sometimes I go myself… Preferred spot is crystal lounge. It’s classy and still has lotsa Nigerians… But why do naija guys think a fat white chick gives you swag? Cuz she’s white? *spits*.  A topic for another day.I’m an introvert, and an extrovert… Can’t decide. Living alone doesn’t help. My sister visits once in a while. The campus is her more permanent abode. So solitude gives me time to think, and the thoughts become more twisted with each episode. I’m not forming “dark and mysterious”.Don’t even want that.

BEZ – Stop pretending.
Much better song…Well not really, because the message shows me how much of a façade my life is right now. From the outside, He’s a young, driven lad with a bright future. Good job, Nice car, lives in the Upscale Downtown area… (no pun intended)
Bullshit…Not because it’s not true but because it feels nothing like it looks…Working a nine to five isn’t my thing… I just know I’m supposed to be doing something else… don’t know what… but till I find out what, that space remains empty… and emptiness hurts, cuz every ticking of the clock feels like I died, and it’s not death that scares me… *faint smile*… Its dying unknown. Not talking about fame. F*ck that. I’m talking about not making an impact.*Bites a sugar frosted Bagel, wipes fingers clean*

The Game ft lil wayne – My life
What on earth did my Tablet smoke this evening? So so sad songs… Mpstcheeeew…Anywho, Just like lil wayne asked “why hasn’t He taken my life?” Probably cuz there’s something I’m still to do… I’d be damned if I stay in the cooperate rat race for the better part of my youth. Probably why I’m quitting my job next month. I just have to jump… can’t stand here, I’m jumping. Mum’ll scream when I tell her, well, IF I tell her. She won’t understand, you probably don’t. Don’t blame you. But the destinies that ride on me call me… and I have to go…The breaking point was when my aunt died last month, I know she’s with God now but the question is if that was me would He be happy with me? Get the feeling he wouldn’t. Because there’s something untapped in me that’s not for me… it’s for my family, friends and country, and it’s gotta come out.

Brooke Fraser – Something in the water.
Finally!!! A happy song! This tablet needs deliverance sha…So my brother is coming next week. Uber cool! And he’s bringing kilichi! How I miss kilichi… *sighs… throws away bagel*… I never knew you could bring that here without it being seized, till my cousin brought some last month when she returned from the burial. See grown men fighting for meat! Still have the scar from when Kaycee punched me after I used my right hand to pack the bulk of the meat and run into the toilet… And this chick I’ve been eyeing was there o… cousins friend… Sexy like mad… naija babe born and bred here. She actually asked me (when we were much younger) if Africans actually live on trees… God punish yankee media.On the flip side, I promised to take her lion hunting when she visits naija next year for the first time… *dodges slippers*

Mali Music – Yahweh
Ah… my song… All the glory belongs to HIM… true…I’m a spiritual being… sometimes in the office or on the road, I catch myself taking to God… at least I hope it’s Him. For someone who rationalizes a lot of things I’ve asked myself a lot of questions. Questions that shake the foundations of the faith of my upbringing. I’ll share a common one. Does God exist? I answer this via the elimination method. Atheists believe two atoms collided spontaneously and a continual explosion created all we see… That only shows one thing… ATHEISTS HAVE FAITH. Because it takes as much faith to believe this as it does to believe that a virgin conceived. And if I have to believe something, it’s that There’s a God who loves me and wants the best for me and when I die, I’ll be with Him. End of Discussion.

Naeto C – 5 and 6Love song
Me I’m not into all that love crap… used to be… long story. Let’s just say I realized that not everyone is worth your time. But when I hear this song, I catch myself hoping. All girls can’t be bitches… God can’t be that heartless. But when you are Vidic (5) and your (6) is squillachi, I pity you. (football fans understand this). And when every other “6” looks like Yobo against man u in 2006, (through pass to rooney), I’d rather defend alone. But jokes aside tho’ I know she’s out there… and our defensive partnership will be one toh quality!*Switches off media player*

It’s your boy @nugwatweets, Thanks to @kevinwithanL for the feature. Loved it? Hate it? Use the comment box. I’m out

 
49 Comments

Posted by on July 31, 2011 in SunDaY GuEsT

 

ChiCkeN Run

A great day to y’all..in the little way I can, I try to afford some talented people an opportunity to express themselves on here. I’m sorry if you came expecting to read something from me. Let me just say that each week (sundays most likely), I’ll feature at least ONE guest blogger…Today, a lady. Her handle is @mohmahmee.

Before I start this piece,I should inform you first hand that I’m NOT a WRITER. I’m too lazy for that. In as much as I have a lot of deep thoughts dancing in my head begging for release with a pen, I’d like to leave them that way.

So I managed…..eventually to get off my lazy butt and write something, anything. My motivation being that my handwriting is taking the downward spiral…..quickly too. I mean who wears glasses to read their own handwriting please!!?!?

So I decided to write a story about an experience I had with a chicken. Ok that was the cue to slam your phone in disappointment.
Oh well*shrugs*
*tales by moonlight story mode activated*(change outfit to wrapper tied around my neck. oh wait that’s for boys right?what d hell,I make anything look sexy..heehee)

Disclaimer:
This is a scarring story with scenes of animal violence and blood. The faint hearted can back out now. I almost passed out when it happened so I won’t judge. Well, then again I was 10 so I might still judge…..

Okay,so the time was christmas. The day was actually christmas eve.
All the murderers had gone out and by murderers I mean my mum and my aunt.
My mum had gone out to do last minute shopping and my aunt had gone to make her hair.
My mum had assigned ‘christmas’ chores to me and my sister. You know those chores that your mother subtly threatens you with and makes it look like christmas was hanging by dat one chore and if you didn’t do it,christmas might actually not ‘hold’ dat year?…..yea those chores.
We had finished them and because my 10yr old girl memory is failing me at the moment and I don’t recall everything,I’d say knowing how vain my sister is, she was probably trying on her christmas dress for the umpteenth time and rehearsing her grand entrance into the church in my parents room and me,well I was devising a means to eating everything and not getting full fast(what!!cut me some slack mehn, I was 10. My apologies if I wasn’t reeking of spirituality and sober reflection on the ‘true meaning’ of christmas).

My dad called us. I imagine the tone of his voice would have automatically distorted my delicious reverie as I jump down from my double bunk bed(best believe I still sleep in that bed till now. No,I’m not shitting you)
His next words begin our scarring story. “Get that hot water,grab a basin and knife, we’re going to kill the christmas chicken”

You’re probably thinking what can possibly go wrong? A coupla kids under the adult supervision of their dad killing the chicken for christmas. If anything, this should be cute.
Yea, it would be cute and all…till you know the ‘killing team’

Character summary
My dad
My dad is a loving,caring,dedicated man…….yea and he’s also a WUSS!
He never participates in any killing of any sort. Rats always had a field day with him around. However, he will be more than happy to motivate whoever is willing to do the honours with words of encouragement and the exact location of the rat.
Me
Everything like the character ‘my dad’ except the fact that I don’t kill and I don’t even watch. I just sit in the corner with my feet up and scream and sometimes break into an uncontrollable fit of inexplicable tears.
My younger sister
Murderer wannabe.

Yea so you now see why this was a wrong idea. I was about to look at my sister and tell her with my eyes how this was such a terrible idea just to see she was as happy as a reindeer and my dad was her santa. My dad just looked at me with a look that said: “fear fear girl,my friend grow some balls”. Well, I did say it was a look. We do a lot of ‘looks’ in my family

My dad boldly went into the store to get the chicken. We followed. He bent to pick the chicken, the chicken freaked,my dad backed out. He nervously smiled and said was: “Ahn ahn,this chicken is quite strong oo”. I gave him a look that said: “seriously, strong? There’s no other word in d world. You weigh an entire forest of chickens and this one is suddenly the king spartan of their tribe!”. “Take it downstairs” my dad said.
We went downstairs and my sister was already set with the knife and the chicken. I was with the basin and the hot water.

He held the chicken down, my sister assisted not because she was asked to, just because she could almost see herself gisting my mum excitedly on how she had earned her place as a ‘killer’ too. All the while,she still had that silly gleam in her eyes. Me, well I was making sure my safe running space was clear at all times.
Infact now that I think about it,I don’t even know why I was summoned on this wife-impressing mission. I was just as useful as the basin in the whole frenzy!

Now,the rest of the events that occur from this point is a blur.
My dad poured a little hot water on the chicken,I think that was his ‘anaesthetic’ to weaken the chicken. My sister held it down. They both looked so serious like they knew what they were doing. Bollocks!!! I wasn’t falling for that bullshit. My running space was still clear.
My dad put the knife in its throat, but couldn’t quite hit the kill button. Chicken panicked. Blood splattered. My dad freaked and let it go. My sister freaked and let it go and well, that stupid gleam was finally gone. That was my cue to run for a diamond medal!

In a heartbeat, our chicken was running with a slightly cut neck out of the building.
My brain froze but in all the brain freeze there was still a little transmission that came into the walkie talkie “that’s our christmas chicken running out of the building! Over!!”
Now I wasn’t really afraid that if it ran out and mixed with other white chickens it would be lost forever and we wouldn’t know ours. I trusted that a particular ‘special’ chicken with a dangling neck would be hard to miss anyday. It was just that my dad, the person to save the day looked like he’d just seen a ghost . Once again I gave him a look “even if this thought for some weird reason crosses your mind ever again,don’t involve me EVER, we can bond with something else!”
My sister was already out chasing it. A guy that lived in my neighbourhood and knew us saw her chasing this ‘thing’ that closely resembled a chicken.

Poor guy,God bless his soul saved christmas by the friggin’ bell!
He picked the chicken with such expertise took it back in,killed it properly,even helped us take out the feathers. The scene looked familiar. OH YEA!! That was how the pros did it dammit!
Much later, the murderers came back, they all expressed their shock and demanded to know who the new ‘hit man’ was. My sister gave them an ‘education’ of the story,gesticulating at intervals.

My mum dryly turned to my dad finally and said “but, who sent you?” Then she broke down and started laughing.
Till this day, I always prefer we do frozen chicken. My mum says there’s a difference, I say YI-to-tha-fucking-MU! Frozen chicken any day mehn.
My dad still looks for stuff to bond with. Less life threatening events anyway..thankfully. Like watching super-story together. I rebelled by making him watch ‘friends’. Nowadays, we just sit and talk.

My hands are bleeding from writing all this and at the time of writing this,I’m making a mental note to buy that book from nursery school with red and blue lines for my handwriting

Thanks for reading and I’m grateful kelvin let me guest blog. please comment and go easy on me abeg, its my first time. Do share scarring experiences too.

 
57 Comments

Posted by on July 24, 2011 in SunDaY GuEsT