Ancient Flames

So, I ran into Mayowa this weekend. Yes, lip raping Mayowa.

I was at a club with my friends taking a tour of the perimeter. I saw him and we hugged. I scrutinized him and he me. `You look good`, he said, his eyes boring into mine.I promptly plasted a smug smile on my face. I don`t know about you lot but I like to know a guy is still attracted to me even after we split.

We kept running into each other. I made it a point to hug other guys in his line of view. Dance with them. We didn`t have a clean break. Far from. He was rushing. I wanted to take it slow think things through. I couldn`t stop him from ravishing me. I was having too much fun. At the same time I`m not one for casual flings. We had a real difference of opinion because he just wanted to get in my pants. So I did something drastic.

He came to my house. I prentended I wasn`t home. I knew if I saw him that would be it. I would let him do whatever. He knew I was in and got really mad at me. I didn`t care. He started talking to my sister`s friend. Yup right downstairs in my house. She was willing and they hit it off. They started dating in less than a week. Good riddance but that doesn`t mean I wasn`t angry. Which is why I always feel the need to get him riled up.

He brushed past me on the dance floor and I put my hand on his forearm, barely restraining him. He pulled me to his chest with an alarming force that only served to turn me on. We started dancing. Well sort of dancing. He held me very close and I clung to him my hand gripping his back. I didnt want to look at him but when I did his eyes nearly undid me. Talk about intense. I bit the side of my lip- an annoying indication that I was quite turned on. My knees found his crotch. Hard on. My legs wobbled a bit but he held me up. He ran his hand down from my waist where they rested. Gaining confidence he lay them to rest on my backside. I looked up at him and it was quite clear what he wanted. His hand moved up and stop beneath my breasts. He followed the trail severally. I couldnt let him continue so I turned around.Bad idea. He tried to get up my dress. FUCK NO. I helped his hands find a respectable place on my waist. He pulled me away from the dance floor.

I knew he was trying to get me into a corner. We`d probably makeout and feel each other up a bit and at the moment I didn`t mind much. It was dark but soon the doorway became clear. It was the restroom. Suddenly, realization struck lifting the haze from my eyes. `You are fucking crazy` and with that I left him standing alone unsated.

Ode oshi.

Unequal Distribution of Fortune

My family had these two maids; Margaret and Joy. I sort of talked about them in Life of the Underdogs. I recall that when Margaret first joined the family I could not eat anything she prepared. She smelt (or is it "smelled") really bad and every time she made something it just smelt like her to me. Shredded chicken with a side of smelling armpits. It was bad!She improved with some Sure. Margaret had this look that used to chase me out of the kitchen so I could never cook while she was there and its no surprise that I still can't cook. Joy on the other hand was funny. Skinny as F**K with the face of that guy in "A Bug's Life".

Anyway. It came the time when they had to leave. Margaret found a husband and left with my parents' blessing but Joy's life took a less fortunate turn.

(On a side note why do help's always seem to leave at the same time?)

I wouldn't call Joy promiscuous. She wasn't but my mum did have security camera's installed for her benefit when she caught her leaving the house at odd hours to "visit men". Close to the end Joy became very emotional, flaring more and more frequently. Her mosquito legs also started to fill out and my mum started to get worried. Turns out Joy was "preggies". Obviously, mum goes, "Has he gone to see your people?".

He hadn't and he never did.

Joy had her beautiful boy who could have grown into a a beautiful man if he was well catered for. One day Joy went to see the father of her baby and upon her return her legs were swollen. This wasn't healthy weight, it was bordering elephantiasis. Her baby died soon afterward. Turns out, baby daddy had been poisoning her. He didn't want to get tied down so "why not kill the mother of my child".Joy was still breastfeeding and the poison was transferred from mother to child. He died. Joy was still alive and I hoped she would get better. But what's life to her without her bundle of joy?

Joy is dead now...the poison infiltrated her system but a mon avis, it was grief that killed her.

RIP Joy.

United States of Arrogance

Anyone who has been to an American embassy knows how arrogant the workers are. Well everyone from security guard to primary review officer is arrogant. The closer you get to your interviewer the nicer they get. I went in to get my visa today and as usual they did not fail to piss me off. I wanted to be a smart ass with them but the timing was not right. I mean, at the airport if they try it that's when I usually strike.

Once, I was returning from London and the jobless officer started asking me questions

Officer: Where is your itinerary?
Maiya: You don't need that these days, I mean all you have to do is insert your passport in the machine or even your last name would usually suffice.

See how this boy vex eh begin dey ask me all manner of questions.

Officer: Where did you stay in the UK?
Maiya: Hilton Metropol in London
Officer: What line of work are you into?
Maiya: I don't work I'm a student.
(Duh I'm 18, which job will I be doing that will pay for frequent traveling)
Officer: Who paid for your trip
Maiya: My mother
Officer: What line of work is she into?


I wanted to say, "She sleeps with men and runs away with their hard earned dollars before they wake up in the morning", but I stuck with:

Maiya: She's retired

This other time I was going to Philadelphia for a course at University of Pennsylvania but I didn't have a letter from my school confirming this. The officer looked at my passport and saw that I had studied at Harvard University a while back.

Officer: You went to Harvard so I can assume you're not lying right?
Maiya: Well you can only hope so.

He laughed. Thank God.

There were so many things I wanted to say to those embassy people today but I for no get visa so I withheld with the promise that I will definitely blog about it.

To the woman who sent me back because I had my laptop sleeve. She said, "It looks too much like a bag".

Maiya: Well a cat looks a lot like a Lion but by definition it is not a lion. If you wanted envelopes, paper sleeves etc. you should be more specific instead of saying we would not like x and y and when I bring z you'd say it's too much like x and y so I cannot accept that.

To the short and robust androgynous woman that summoned me to the building with her index finger.

Maiya: Oh I thought you we're addressing your slave or something I am not usually spoken to in that way. I was made to believe those days are over.

To the primary review officer that stopped attending to me so he can have a nice chat with his friends.

(After the first minute)

Maiya: That's rather rude.

(After about 2 and a half minutes of waiting)

Maiya: Na condition wey make crayfish back bend. No be your fault, Na your mama wey no carry cane flog you, na im I blame.See as you carry your fish eye dey do like sey na only water dey inside your head. If I catch you for outside I go pluck your eyes commot.


Phew.
That feel's good.

Lost

I constantly busy myself with the absurd normalities of life. I fill my thoughts with minor insecurities, constantly worrying about the minute details. Then once in a while I am confronted with some of the harsh realities I avoid facing by occupying myself with what we call life; you know' hair appointments, education, shopping, parties and every once in a while church. When it is someone's death, even that of a distant relation or friend, its is brutal, almost painful. For me when I am wrenched from civilization, unable to communicate with anyone via telephone or internet, the big questions begin to surface.

What is my life really about?

Have I so far led a purposeful existence?

Am I wanted?

Am I loved?

Would I be missed?

Maiya.

The First Time

Recently, someone asked me how old I was and the question kind of caught me off guard because people usually assume I'm old enough for anything really. In response to this question I go, "16... no 17...OMG I'm 18!". How in heavens did I lose track of time? Who forgets this stuff? I decided it's time to reminisce about the firsts...I can't afford to forget those.

First Love
His name is TG. Looking at his facebook pictures now I have no idea what I saw in him. In primary 2, before valentine's we had to pick our valentine's name out of a hat (It was actually a bucket). I picked TG and he picked me as well and I remember being convinced we were meant to be. Unfortunately, my name came up twice and due to that unfortunate technicality my valentine was some other random due I didn't give a rat's ass about.

First Boyfriend
UI, my Hausa hottie, is definitely dreamy. Dare I say, he is beautiful. I had agreed to go out with some other boys before him but I refuse to include any affair shorter than three weeks in my list of relationships. I was in SS2 when he sent for me. He was a year older. I must have been very happy that day because I went. He approached me with his entourage of male friends, all of whom I was irrevocably terrified of. He then proceeded to say "I have been seeing you around this school and I want to get to know you". *Cringe*. I should have run away then but with those body builders at our heels, all I could do was smile. He never really asked if I would date him and I guess I just loved how he took charge or at least his friends did. I mean once, I was sitting at prep and he came to pick me up. He always walked me back to my residence. He asked if I was ready and I said I wasn't. His friend then proceeded to gather my books and put them in my hands and practically ordered me to do his bidding. I don suffer sha.

First (real) Kiss
Mayowa and his friends are the reason I am skeptical about Yoruba boys...no offense to the wonderful Yoruba boys out there. Upon meeting me his first comment was "How old are you?". I was 16. "You aren't legal for most things...but your legal for other things (tracing his finger down my legs)". He told me he was 21. I was happy, I like older boys. He asked me out the next time he was at my place. I said no, but I decided why not give him a hug before I leave him alone in my living room. He decided that would be a great time to force his tongue down my throat. I was curious so I let him devour my lips a moment longer. My eyes we're wide open. I cried after, reason being, I had been lip raped by a deceitful, overbearing, 19 year old who unfortunately smelt like heaven.

First Party
I was in JS3 and it was at the infamous 11:45. I arrived way too early and I asked my driver to circle a bit. I went alone because my sister wanted to go with her friends. I was to meet them there. She gave me a couple of tips though before I left. "Go upstairs, downstairs is for razz people". The music wasn't even playing when I entered. I said hi to some people I knew. Everyone was sitting and standing in groups. I proceeded to climb the stairs. 1, 2, 3..."Sorry sister upstairs is closed", said the bartender. "I know", I replied but I kept on walking because everyone was now staring. I couldn't stop now. The huge black padlock on the gate was obvious from where I was standing but I kept thinking to myself "Downstairs is for razz people". I got to the top of the stairs and banged on it for a while. The lady there said, "We are closed" with no sympathy. I took the walk of shame back down the stairs, wishing all the while that the ground will open underneath me. I ran to the bathroom and hid there till the party was live. This was no doubt the most embarrassing day of my life. I never went upstairs. I felt like I deserved to remain downstairs with the razz people.

Yoghurt all day...Shit all Night

Disclaimer: The following post contains some disgusting imagery. I cannot be held responsible for what happens to the food you just ate.

First of all I love yoghurt... my fave is ...Shyzza I cant remember what its called but I've only ever found it in England and it has those yummy sides; strawberries,chocolate, cereal you name it. What I don't like is the painful all nighter spent on the water closet after overindulging (If you don't own one of these you should really try it-its way better than the pit latrine...yes even those with attached bucket of water)with uncountable rolls of tissue which would eventually end up down the drain. Why so many? Because just when you think you are done more shit comes crashing down like no man's business.

I'm obviously not going to rant about diarrhoea the entire post so what is my point? Why do we bother to indulge in things that we know give us only a fleeting moment of pleasure but come with the possibility of a longer period of pain?

The most common examples:

I was sitting on the bed in my close friends', close friends' house with other friends and this one stranger...the only guy (Too many "friends" in one sentence abi?). He had gone out to buy us some alcohol to get the party started. Vodka and pineapple juice...its been one of my fave drinks since then. I am a very uptight person in my right mind especially if I am not comfortable with the people around me but I really wanted to have fun that night so once the drinks arrived I launched on a race with myself to get "happy" as soon as possible. You can trust our darling brother dutifully whispered the words "Shayo is your friend" every now and then. Not like I needed any of that I was determined to get wasted. Fastforward umpteen glasses of Vodka and pineapple juice and I was kneeling in my friends bathroom Regurgitating all the water in my system...no food. My friend yelled from her room "Close the door Maiya! Your puke is smelling".

The next example is partly fictional but very plausible:


Rewind to the fore mentioned intimate gathering. When I was sufficiently inebriated I stopped drinking. I began to enjoy the music and I even started dancing, a couple of times in typical "Take you down fashion" with the only man in the house. My typical response to alcohol is to become very cuddly and very sleepy. So in a few I found myself in feotus position on the bed. I then proceeded to summon Mr Game to cuddle with me "(I don't remember this last part, my friends filled me in). The sexy Mr Game blessed my legs with glistening ice cubes sending sensations to my core I can't say I have experienced before. His hands traveled up my legs getting closer and closer to my pulsating core.*Fastforward three weeks. I had'nt spoken to Mr Game since and I cant say I missed him...I barely knew him. What I missed was my monthly visitor which was welcome then more than ever. First response clued me in once I completed the customary "pee on the stick" procedure. He wouldn't be back for another 8 months.

*Everything from here is fictional.

I wonder why these delightful moments ended up with me in the bathroom looking like Fiona (Shrek) after sundown. But as I sit here on the toilet seat, waiting for the rest of the feacal matter to surface I cant help but be optimistic as I always am. I mean look at the bright side I am knocking of a few pounds right now.

;)

Is It really that Useful?

I read this book Outliers- Great book BTW- and the author was trying to prove that genius cannot be measured by IQ tests alone. There was this activity where a group of kids had to write down as many uses for certain objects as they could think of in a designated amount of time to figure out how creative and aware a person is.

In the divergence test the genius had the most common uses. Nothing creative.

Take this test before scrolling down.Write down as many uses for a Brick and a Blanket as you can think of in one minute. No peeking.

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You should be done with the first one
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That was much harder than I thought it would be.

Uses for a brick
To sit on
To break windows
To build houses
To line gutters
As a base for firewood cooking
To help make loud noises
To hold down the posts of a volleyball net
To hold down un affichage (a poster)
To...Time up.

Uses for a duvet
To keep oneself warm
To cover up during sexual activity
To douse a fire
As a net for volleyball or tennis
To cover windows
To make a tent
To do...Time up.

Uses for a stick
To chase away dogs, flies from a cows behind
As a ruler
As a flag bearer
As a dildo
To beat poorly behaved child
To hold up...Time up.

So what do you think? Am I a genius?
Try it and let me know how you do. No researching.