Monday Humor: We crazy like that

May came and went by so fast, didn’t it? Something seems to be chasing this year. I wonder where it’s running to. Anyway, we shall keep our flag flying no matter what.

So while in school, I was the serious type. Check this very funny post so you’ll understand. Always early to class, never late in submitting assignments, notes always intact, etc. Typically, I wasn’t very fashionable(I’m still not), but I managed to keep my head above water. Shirts to the rescue, most of the time. Now, second year is an academic year I do not want to ever remember because it was such a confusing time. We all had to run around like headless chickens that year, what with so many “borrowed courses”  and changes in existing systems. That was also the year of my worst GPA. Bleh. Terrible year.

So on this particular day, we just heard that a class would be in session. This was a course we had to borrow from statistics department and I was not finding it easy as we had had only one lecture throughout the semester and exams were close. Imagine the speed I used to rush out of the hostel when I heard that a class had been fixed. Almost sprained my ankle sprinting to Abuja building for a class I ended up not understanding sef. Mtchew.

I got to class, amid the usual boisterous greetings and haggling for seating space. There were very few girls there, as is typical of impromptu classes, and we got down to business when the lecturer came in. It was quite interactive, even though I could tell that half of the class, like me, wasn’t following fully.

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Anyway, it ended and we were all having the usual after class discussions when someone blurted out: “Come oh, Chibugo, which style of wearing shirt be this nah?”. That was when I looked down at what I was wearing. 😩😢😥. I had worn my shirt inside out, and it was extremely obvious. It took me below 2 seconds to recover and throw back a light retort: “You didn’t know? Na the new style wey dey reign naaaw. No carry me play ooo!”  And we all laughed. I laughed loudest, but inside my mind, I was like this

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It pays to have a sharp mouth, I tell you.

Kisses and hugs, and a happy democracy holiday to you.

Dont stop being awesome. ✌✌

A reader sent this in…. Meanwhile, read to the end.

A reader sent an email to me asking me to publish this as he was scammed via betting. I don’t know how this betting thing works, but it would be foolhardy to trust anyone with your money in these harsh times. Be very careful whom you give your money to, everybody’s eyes are red. I have nothing against gambling, but…. In fact let me stop. Get-rich-quick schemes always leave us vulnerable to predators who feed on our greed. Be warned. Here goes :

“Good morning. Great work you have been doing here I must commend, I was scammed by a wonderful Nigerian claiming to have sure games(betnaija, nairabet and co), he always promises to refund both committed fund and stake fund after two consecutive games didn’t play/Check out. I’m not the only one being scammed by him, I’ll like you to publish this to let other bet livers like me not to fall victim to his scam/tricks. Here are his details Ighodaro Osayende 2086744821 Zenith Bank. 08153528956 BBM channel 214 predictions.

Thanks! ”

Meanwhile, another reader sent me a link to free online courses as published last week by the Financial Times, UK. Online courses are really great ways to learn without having to go to any class. It just needs commitment, a laptop with Internet and a Webcam. Believe me, I tried one at the end of last year and I’m much better for it. I have to confess though,  he sent it to me since last week and on trying to post them today, I found out that the compilation had been removed from the site. So I decided to compile some sites myself and share with you. I have to keep the promise I made. Below are links to 5 sites with free and paid courses you could use to better yourself personally and professionally.
5. EdX
There you have them. Go ahead, knock yourself out. No excuses. Data subscription in Nigeria now is cheaper on all networks. Whether it’s to learn something new, or develop that which we already know, what better way to do it than online? Get started! Don’t hoard information, share with friends too.
Sincerely, Chibugo.
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I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.  – Pablo Picasso

Dilemma of a naija girl…that doesn’t want to bleach.

How do I start? Okay, here goes.

I am in my early twenties and I’ve never really had a body cream. Wait, let me explain. Up until my second or third year at University, I used Pears or Venus moisturizing lotion. Those last few years were the worst years of my acne episode, and so I had to stop. Inasmuch as my body looked nice, my face was a tropical rainforest. I still have not-so-fond memories of my brother calling my face “paradise of pimples”. It was that bad. If I say it didn’t affect my self esteem, I’d be a devilish liar. And so I was cream-less for a while, using the occasional Vaseline in dry weather. I fared no better.

By the end of my third year, a pharmacist talked me into using an antibacterial/antifungal cream to get rid of them, together with oral antibiotics. All was fine for a while and I actually had close to clear skin until I woke up one morning and wondered when I had become so light skinned. My face is naturally darker than the rest of my body, but at that point, I had people calling me “oyibo”. I threw the cream out. I can’t go and resemble Michael Jackson on top pimples mata. Back to square one.

Till I graduated, I probably never used any thing on my face, and my pimples flourished. Whenever I saw any lotion that didn’t have the words “lightening” or “brightening” on them, they were usually too oily and made me “aunty pimples” again.  Before I began NYSC, another pharmacist suggested a cream containing hydroquinone to me, saying that it would lighten me a bit, but it would help with the acne and spots. On the edge of desperation, I accepted.

Omo, when I got to camp, the Benue sun showed me that “khaki nor be leather”. I was tanned to a deep brown and always got this tight feeling around my eyes whenever I came out of the sunlight. I read on the body of the lotion that while using it I would have to avoid sunlight. Like, what the heck? Could this mean I would soon have sunburn? Whaaaaat!

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No one told me to run.

When I began NYSC a friend suggested a lotion to me. It was one of the “toning” ones, but since she used it, and she looked the same as she had always been, I decided I would give it a try. It contained “natural plant extracts” and as a biochemist I know those are really good for skin. I used it all through the harsh Benue harmattan. And stopped during the wet season as it was breaking me out, again. The remnant is still lying in my wardrobe now.

To cut the long story short, when you have stayed so long without lotion as I have for months now, you will feel the need for moisture that won’t break you out. I’m not feeling my facial skin at all bruh. And the stores? They all stock the same damn things. Take a look here: IMG_20160520_141833

85% of the creams promise to take you from Lupita to Beyonce in a week. Now, I’m a scientist and I can tell you that that is downright scary. All the lotions that don’t lighten contain ingredients that break me out like mineral oil/petrolatum, cocoa butter, etc. What’s a girl to do? On a certain BBM channel I saw an ad for a range of products that promised to clear your skin really fast and make your skin really fresh. I was interested oh. When I looked at the before and after photos, I was shocked! Imagine Genevieve suddenly looking like Tonto Dikeh? That was what I saw. That wasn’t the surprising part. I saw comments where people were asking for how they could contact the seller to get the “half caste cream”. I literally died and rose again. Why does everyone want to be fair? What is the benefit? Can somebody explain to me?

This is the statement they always use to qualify the lightening: “sister, the cream will bring out your true colour”. He. He. He. I resemble mugu abi? When did we have many colours to choose from? True colour ko, true colour ni. I dislike the idea of being part of the bandwagon called “Lagos girls” who get a shade or two lighter every year, but how long will somebori keep neglecting her face kwanu? Person pikin cannot even go out sans makeup without summoning the angels of confidence to accompany her. Someone once asked me if I was so broke I couldn’t afford a decent face cream. #sideeye. Does this mean that in the whole of Lagos, there is no face lotion that will improve your oily skin without either breaking you out or lightening you?

A very high number of people are having this same problem and don’t know what to do.

I’m tired. Help.

 

Danfo Diaries episode 2: twelve characters you’re bound to meet on a danfo.

Without a car, and having to work in Lagos, you are sure to meet certain characters on the bus bound for the same direction as you. In fact, you are not a true danfo hopper if you cannot identify any of these groups of people mentioned below.

Took this photo from atop Cele Pedestrian bridge. Thought I would die standing there, but obviously I didn't. Eeek.
Photo credit: my Tecno 8H phone camera.

1. The Preacher:  almost every bus I get on, there’s a preacher in it. I really have no problem with this, except that really, if you had to wake up by 4:45am to prepare and go to daily mass, leaving church by 6:50am you’re probably thinking of the correct snooze you’re going to hammer while on the bus to work. But alas, you’re just about to bend your head and begin the action when a voice bellows: brothers and sisters praise the Lord! 😧😢 I usually sit up and join in the prayers and singing(despite the fact that I’m just coming from mass), until the preaching starts. Then it most of the time turns out to be a “Christians are not sinners and sinners are not Christians -hell fire and damnation – all women who wear trousers and make up shall go to hell- kind of preacher. At this point I jejely put my head back down. I have a valid reason to finally sleep.

2. The Change Collector: When the conductor yells “Wole pelu change yen oo!” You better take him seriously and have your change at hand, or else, you will automatically fall into this group, or you may end up doing what I did here. “Aunty please help me with your #100”, “Uncle please do you have change?”, this is the usual pitch. I’ve been in this situation a lot of times and OYO is your name when everyone on the bus is replying no to your polite request. You will be married to another passenger by your conductor that day. If its a conductor that collects fares before the driver moves, he may just tell you to delete yourself from his vehicle with immediate alacrity. They don’t have time for stories.

3. The sleeper: Now we’re getting down to business. There are people that cannot enter a bus without sleeping. I once went in the same direction with a certain guy, and on all the three buses we got on, he slept the entire journey, despite the loud music, the road bumps, the occasional argument, and the odd exchange of words with alayes. Thats not such a big deal, until you’re on a bus with someone without body coordination. From sleeping on the backrest, the person will begin sleeping on you. Some even drool. Chei. Imagine looking back from your seat only to see all the passengers seated on the next row, sleeping in different positions. Believe me when I say, I’ve seen it all.

4. Cheapskates: These are the group of people that like to “lap”. Sometimes you see two wide hipped women planning to lap! I pity  you if you’re to sit beside them. The most incredible situation is when the bus fare is 30 or 50 naira, and two people still want to lap! Students are the biggest culprits in this, but at least they have an excuse. Heck, we all did it at some point in secondary school. But for someone to be planning to lap 3 or 4 children? Wetin man nor go see kwanu? What about those who bargain the bus fare? It is the state of the economy, my people. O ga oh.

5. The Meddler: That is how somebody will just be on her own, making a personal call on the bus, only for her to hang up and one aunty or uncle beside or behind her will decide to help her life circumstances by offering unsolicited advice. Ejoor uncle abi aunty, except you’re directing me to where I will get free money, face your front.  Ees not your problem, nor your business. Tainkiu.

6. The musician: I decided to tag this group “musician”  because it is normal to plug in your headphones while on the bus, but very abnormal to try singing what you’re hearing out loud for other passengers. Trust me, you will sound like a mosquito. While some can be really loud and annoying, some people actually sound good, but, why would you decide to display your singing skills at 7pm on a bus loaded with tired passengers who just want to go home and rest? Kini problem yen?

7. The current tapper: For those who don’t know what tapping current means, it means someone discreetly making body movements that bring him or her in contact with another’s untouchable parts. I still wonder why men do it, because it makes no sense to torture yourself for nothing. You will just be minding your business, then one oga beside you will use “style”  to brush your breast with his elbow. Or another uncle sitting behind will be trying to use his knee to “chook” the living daylight out of your buttocks. I usually excuse the first attempt as a mistake, but the second time, you will get a good dose of my medicine. Nonsense!

8. The Farter : Brethren and sistren, pray you never come across this person on your way! You may not survive the journey(I kid), or you may end up alighting before your bus stop, just to get some good air. Sometimes when when I’m on the bus and I detect the presence of such a person, I look around at everyone and try to decipher who is responsible. I’m never able to. Lagosians have a record breaking degree of “straight face syndrome”. Tufiakwa.!

9. The Market People : You know them by the large sacks or baskets of goods(mostly foodstuff)  that they carry. I once boarded a bus to Oshodi, and subsequently, three market women bearing baskets of dry fish entered with their wares. I would have looked for a way out, but I was in a tearing hurry and the bus was already full. I was on my way to an Interview with my fine pressed suit and shiny everything. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job. I can’t tell whether it was because I smelt like a fish seller or because I studied life sciences and not business administration. *shrugs*

10. The Readers: I fall into this category, especially when it’s not an interesting bus. My eyes remain glued to the book I’m reading till I realize it’s my bus stop and yell “Owa oh”! . I meet very few people who fall here, but they do exist. Close to this category also, are the phone pressers. They will press phone until they almost pass their bus stops. If you count reading a book on my phone as” phone pressing”, then I’m guilty of this one too. Some will be on social media and forget their change with the conductor. Kontinu.

11. The Toaster: Fine Bobo sees fine sisi on a bus, fine Bobo assumes she’s not taken and decides to try his luck. I’ve never seen a lady that responded positively to this bus toasting, except once or twice. Most of them don’t even understand  body language. When you’ve been trying to get my number and I’m busy still pressing phone or reading one big book, shouldn’t you know that I’m not interested?

12. The Seller: Books, medicine, phones, power banks, jewellery, you name it. Some people do all their marketing on Lagos danfos. And they sell well too.

This was meant to be a fun post, as most of my posts are. So, what category did you fall into? Did I miss anyone? Help the ministry : leave a comment!

Kisses, hugs and kulikuli, 

Sincerely, Chibugo.

 

Monday Humor : Its a boy girl thing

Short, and hopefully, sweet.

It was one of those holidays in university. I had been home for a few days when this boy began pestering me. He always seemed to appear from nowhere, like a Phantom. I was nineteen, and he looked to be a little older than me but there was no sign that he ever did anything responsible but wear trendy clothes, press big phones, hang about the streets during the weekdays, and play ball on the same streets during the weekends. With my plans to have at least an MSc by 25, I wasn’t giving in to any irresponsible brat. I told him this in my nicest tone of voice, but as a fine boy, I guess he wasn’t used to being turned down. Chai.

Fast forward to a week after this. We were back from mass and preparing lunch when Mother realized we had run out of one ingredient, I can’t remember what exactly it was. I had to dash to the nearest shop to buy it. Gosh! Am I the only one who hates impromptu errands like this? Anyway, I had just walked a few metres out of the driveway when I came face to face with two teams of bare chested boys playing football. I feel extremely awkward when I have to pass by such a large group of boys(Even now. Sheesh), but the food was already cooking so I pushed each foot ahead of the other, walking on the other extreme of the street. Two more strides and I would be out of their sight, or so I thought.11615503-laughing-out-loud-emoticon-stock-vector-smiley-face-cartoon

At the same moment I thought this, something hit me really hard on my bum. Yes, my buttocks. I stumbled forward from the impact, but managed not to fall. It had hit me that hard. Those bloody boys had kicked their filthy ball at me! Straight on target too! I turned on them with such venom in my eyes, ready to kick butt, even if it meant that the food would cook a bit longer. The boys immediately began shouting apologies albeit in jocular tones. “Ah, fine sister, sorry oo. Na slip of ball”, “Abeg no vex”, “Aunty sorry abeg”. I was still angry, until I saw who wasn’t talking among the lot. My “toaster”  was standing at a very suspicious angle. Only someone at that angle could have kicked the ball so effectively. He wasn’t moving, just looking in the air with no expression on his face. I didn’t need a seer to tell me who had kicked the ball at me. Suddenly I wasn’t angry anymore. I began laughing. The boys joined me in my laughter, but I’m sure they wondered why I was laughing. I’d just been hit by a ball and I was laughing. If that ball had hit me on the head, they would have probably thought I had gone out of my mind from its impact. I dusted my shorts and kept moving. Lunch was on the cooker. Leave trash for LAWMA.

If they only knew. I was not laughing because it was funny; I was laughing because dear “toaster” had just showed me how right I was in not “agreeing”  for him. I never saw that boy in my area again. I have no idea why.

Nonsense and ingredients!

Have a productive week! Be friggin’ awesome!!! 

Danfo Diaries – 5 Weird Things You Have Likely Seen On A Danfo

Took this photo from atop Cele Pedestrian bridge. Thought I would die standing there, but obviously I didn't. Eeek.
Took this photo from atop Cele Okota Pedestrian bridge. Thought I would die standing there, but obviously I survived. Eeek.

Danfo –  That’s what the popular yellow bus found in Lagos is called. Very wealthy you must be, if you’ve lived in Lagos and never ridden on it. I ride on it almost everyday, and I sometimes wonder what would become of millions of working Lagosians if the danfo system were to be abolished. Its still pretty rustic, but coming from the days of “bolekaja”  which literally means “come down let’s fight”, there has been some progress, though there’s ample room for improvement. Many things have taken place in these danfos ; the fabric of Lagos living, as a matter of fact, is intricately weaved with a vivid yellow, if you get what I mean. Every bus tells a story, from the more recent tricycles “keke napep”  to the very large “molues”. Sometimes when I enter a bus, I look around and wish I could interpret the mysterious tapestry that is a full bus formation: 5, 14, 18, 60 or more breaths meshing together for a brief period in time, never to be entirely together again, ever.

Ack! I’ve started again. Before I get more poetic than this, lets get down to the post proper jarey. I realized I have talked about this city a lot on this blog. From one of my very first posts here, to this one here, to this here post(ensure you read this one. Lorl), to this one and this one. Well, since I blog about what I see, I guess it’s inevitable. Read through all those posts I linked above. You’ll be happier for it, believe me.

So, I’m a bus hopper. The danfo is almost an everyday thing for me that I take it as nothing, being in it. I’ve even once been a temporary bus conductor. Lol. We had no conductor and I took it upon myself to wave people into the bus as the driver kept delaying so he could get a full bus. No, I did not stand and yell “Oshodishodishodi”! Like the bus touts. I remember how Teju Cole described it in his book” everyday is for the thief”: “Ikejakejakeja”. The realness of it! I was a mute conductor. Lol. Anyway, if you’ve used the danfos, you must have come across a couple of weird things that have become quite commonplace in them.

1. Having to sit on something that’s not a seat: The seat between the driver and the window passenger in the front seat is usually an empty  space, but to maximise profit, these guys improvise seats with anything handy. I’ve seen a plastic paint bucket, a wooden stool, and even a plank wedged between the two seats used to serve the purpose of an extra seat. The wonders of danfos. Smh

2. A bus that doesn’t start with a key:  When I first saw a driver put two wires together only to have the bus start magically, I was stunned, and then worried that the bus would blow up.  Hot wiring is very common among our danfo drivers. It doesn’t take away from its weirdness though.

3. Having to tie yourself with the seatbelt: Most of the seat belts of these worn out buses are so slack that they couldn’t hold anything. They’ve probably lost the hook too. But each time a driver with such a problem carries you, as soon as you approach a LASTMA checkpoint, they tell you to pull it over yourself and manipulate it so that it looks like your belt is in place. You may end up tying yourself up. In Teju Cole’s book, his uncle responds that “idea l’a need” (a Yoruba and English mash-up for “they only need the idea”), meaning that the officials only need to see something that looks like a seat belt, because they sure won’t be coming to check if you really have one on.

4. A hanging door: hardly anything is as it should be in these buses. They’re so utilitarian, that to see padded seats is a rare luxury. The wooden seats of these danfos have no mercy on one’s buttocks. 😢 Let alone the doors. The doors sometimes don’t close properly and the conductors end up having to tie it so as not to be caught by officials who may penalise them for having an open door on the highway(as if the doors are not open 90% of the time). Yesterday, my bus conductor used a strip of Ankara material to tie the door shut. Ha! I can’t deal. This can be dangerous though. My brother was once on a bus which caught fire from over heating and he had to escape through a window because the conductor was still trying to figure out how to untie his “cloth lock”. Wetin man nor go see?

5. A conductor who is actually nice: I wonder if there is a training given to conductors on “how to be nasty to passengers 101”. I have on very few occasions come across nice conductors and I’m always dazed by the sheer strangeness of it. What about their voices? Ha! The characteristic voice of a conductor is guaranteed to scrape your nerves. Mother says it’s the weed most of them smoke. Terrible thing, that voice.

I hope you enjoyed reading this episode of Danfo Diaries. The next post in this series is sure to make you smile. Keep reading, and remember to be awesome!

Kisses, hugs and kulikuli, 

Sincerely, Chibugo.

Monday Humor : Oh Crap!

New week, have to work. Bleh. This is one of those Mondays I wish I were a kid again. One gets really tired of “adulting” sometimes. Anyway, since we gotta do what we gotta do, might as well do it with a spring in our step, eh?

Speaking of kids, what’s the stupidest thing you ever did as a kid? I did so many stupid things myself, that it would be hard to choose one. Stealing milk and Milo and lying about it when evidence was dusted on my lips; peeing on the bed and waking up to change so that mom wouldn’t find out(she always did); making faces behind Mother’s back, without knowing that she was watching me in the mirror; having disgusting belching competitions with my sisters; absentmindedly picking my nose while I was supposed to be posing in the family picture(I was caught on camera by the way); reading a book while I was supposed to be babysitting my little brother, while he crapped on himself,  smeared the stuff all over himself, and proceeded to eat it.😭 Ah, God forgive me. Lol.

My goodest friend, Marie, while we were at uni, told the story of one of her childhood escapades which I think should win a prize. If you never had a farting contest with your siblings, ah, you never start. So Marie and her sister, Kay, decided to have a farting competition and the winner would be whoever gave off the smelliest, most thunderous fart. They began, and, the air began to get ugly, with each person doing her darnedest to outdo the other. (The secret to the game is to eat something really gassy, like beans. I would know. 😉) You know the different categories of farts, from the “thunder”  to the “silent poison”; they all came to play that day. Everything has an end, though. But the end of the game is usually the sweetest and most competitive part. Kay could do no more, but Marie seemed to be on a roll. Kay then decided to try one last time. She meditated on it, and then she let off a mighty one that shocked even herself, and she promptly burst into tears. Ahn ahn, aunty, I troway cap for you. You don win. Beht what hapun na? Why you crying?

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Turns out she had simultaneously crapped (poo-pooed/shat) on herself while trying to let out the “fart of the century”. Chei. 🙆 Kasala don burst, literally. Damage control, somebody? Ah, to be a child again. Nothing like a well spent childhood.

Marie, thanks for letting me use your story. And happy birthday. My days with you were my best days in university.

In other news, the 2016 national budget has finally been signed. We need to go for Thanksgiving, I think. #sarcasm. Anyway, have a productive week, and don’t hesitate to be your awesome self!

Kisses, hugs, and kulikuli, 

Sincerely, Chibugo.

Whoa! Hold up! All men cheat?

Hello brethren and sistren. How are you doing? How market? Mummy and daddy nko? Your siblings nko? How is fuel in your area? Haha! Sharrat to my Yoruba elders. They can ask about even your neighbour’s dog. Hope the month of May has been treating you all well.

Some time ago, while taking a break from work, I was browsing bellanaija and a comment on a post caught my eye. Not just the comment, but the fact that it had gathered so many likes. The summary of what the commenter wrote was that “All men cheat. Its not about whether he is a pastor or a thug. It is an inherent thing in men”. I was horrified. To be honest, when I saw that, plus the fact that some other commenters concurred aggressively, even citing life examples, for a while I began looking at all men with suspicious eyes; my father included. Lol. I nor know who send me message, but after a while and a little research, I knew it couldn’t be true. In fact, common sense dictates that generalizations are never a good idea.frowny face

However, I came up with some interesting information and I leave it to you to determine which is fact and which is myth. I will state my opinion though.

1. 100% of men cannot be mentally monogamous, in that they are biologically programmed to assess the sexual attractiveness of every single woman they see.

My take : I think this is correct. This doesn’t usually translate to actual cheating, methinks. Feel free to prove me wrong, I beg.

2. Cheating men still love their wives, they just cannot resist a second slice of chocolate  cake.

My take: is it just me or just this sound really stupid?

3. Men cheat because of strong sexual impulses and the need for variety.

My take: CHINEKE! Variety? Food is a need. Water is a need. Sex is not a need, my brothers and sisters. It is a want. Strong sexual impulses can be controlled, or, wait, you think women don’t have strong sexual impulses too? At this point, lowering of inhibitions is what really makes someone with this excuse to finally cheat. Little wonder a study directly linked alcohol consumption with promiscuity. Alcohol lowers inhibitions.

4. Infidelity  is a choice: I agree. The same goes for fidelity.

5. Matching patterns is wrong:

I agree also. Just because 3 men you know have cheated on their spouses, and you’ve been cheated on twice, and you’re surrounded by baby daddies, doesn’t mean that the remaining three point something billion men in the world are cheats. It can be painful to be on the receiving end of such a terrible thing, but I don’t think generalizing solves anything.

6. Men can go about impregnating women left right and center, but a woman can only get pregnant every nine months maximum. That is probably the reason they don’t cheat as much as men.

😂 : My take: I laughed so hard at this and I knew I had to share. It just sounded ridiculous and funny and the same time. Couldn’t laugh alone.

To be more serious though, generalizations such as this are very dangerous. Not all men cheat, and not all women cheat. On the flipside  though, what do you think a person should do if she/he discovered his/her spouse cheating? Stay, or leave? Would YOU stay or leave? What even makes someone decide to cheat? I mean, if you thought this person was so awesome that you had to spend the rest of your life with him or her, why stray? Isn’t there a less scandalous way to take care of marital frustrations? Infidelity is far deeper than I choose to jokingly portray here, but I deliberately decided to limit this post because I wasn’t sure I had any right or authority to delve any deeper.

Awon mummies and daddies, aunties and uncles, brothers and sisters, boyfriends and girlfriends, sidekicks and main chicks (dodges bullet), neighbours and gateman, make una put mouth for this matter oh. This one pass me, to be honest. Married people, joor, put mouth for the matter. Epp our relationship ministry. Biko nobody should come to “haks”  me jamb kweshon on my BBM or whatsapp as to whether I’m about to marry or sontin. Ees nor your bizness. Lol.

XOXO, Chibugo.

Don’t tell me boosit, don’t call me boosmeat, eranko is a hanimal dat don’t haf sense I’m a human being you can’t dispute it

If you cannot give me sontin, don’t tell me notin, eranko is a hanimal dat don’t haf sense, I’m a human being you can’t dispute it  – Cobhams ft Falz ; Boosit, 2016.

Capture

If you haven’t heard this song I quoted from above, you need to. It’s a song with a message, and hilarious too. It’s for those who make promises or vows and renege on them, be they husbands/wives, pastors or politicians. Boosit is the Ibadan adulteration of the word “bullshit”. Search and download, and tell me what you think! While at it, have a swell weekend!