Ms. Codeine

This post addresses the dangers of forced matchmaking and the importance of ocular sorcery. Don’t sweat it, you will understand soon enough- or not.

Whereas with women there are two breasts, which invites conversation, just as a good behind presents perfect punctuation, something every man knows.

Can’t make sense of the above? Well, neither can I dear, lets move on.

It still is the month of February so we are still on the rather unexciting subject of romanticism. It never occurred to me that Jessie’s promiscuity may have something to do with my lack thereof, or that Kenny is a self-appointed hoe who ‘loyally’ wingmans his way through incalculable flexible thighs and eager hearts while explaining it away as (over)compensation for the absence of my romantic endeavours, simply put, he whores for 2.

Males consider February as the blessed month of fornication. It is also a period where hampers are given out in expectation of favor(s). Friend-zoned males are given temporary status elevation in the hopes of an expensive showing of undying love-in physical manifestation of course. This February, Kenny decided to take on the task of finding me a ‘rewarding’ female thanks to my persistent single status.

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The Black Uniform

Their disposition is as sore as the backside of our children who attend public secondary schools. Their mandate- to sanitize the street and keep the Nigerian citizen safe and pampered, a mandate they carry out through harassment and the occasional bullet hole in necessary body parts. Their justice is available to the highest bidder, earning them a concluding spot in the morning prayers of many households. Introducing you to the black on blacks, the Nigerian Police force.

Keep us from all evil and the clutches of the police today.

Nigerian-police

I Zibah have been away for almost 2 years. I have grown older (duh!)- I am 25 now and wiser to the ways of women. Beyond the 2 sentences just rendered, I intend to give no further explanation as to the reason of my being away. So carry on, go tell yo’ grandma that Zibah is back with his unique perversions. Handsomer than ever.

Let’s away our attention from my stunning narcissistic indulgence for a tick and return to the elite group of men and women whose stories of heroism and grand achievements are few and far between. I’ve had many run-ins with the law, some plain hilarious; others didn’t have me laughing so deeply.

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Mrs. Ibironke

Hi, Zibah here. This is the concluding part of the robbery post. It contains screenshots of my initial conversation with Mrs. Ibironke (the current owner of my stolen blackberry device).

It starts with me adding my (her) blackberry PIN on BlackBerry Messenger sometime around midnight, drafting the invite along the line of “Hey boo, miss you. Add me up on BBM”. Remember this ‘Aunty’ is allegedly married and inferring from her pattern of speech, her ‘husband’ seems like the kind of man whose invite would read something like “Ibironke na me. Oya press accept”.

By morning, I noticed that I had a new contact and judging by the time of acceptance it happened few minutes after I sent the invite. She must have been shivering in anticipation at the prospect of a “Nigerian Prince” (if you know what I mean). See rest of conversation below; Continue reading

Jesus Christ and Bruce Lee

On this faithful day I was pursued by a beastly dog and was saved by Bruce Lee and Jesus Christ.

Some days are rather unexciting, this day in particular was proving to be a real bummer so I made a firm decision to do something positively engaging rather than wallow in drudgery and porn (kidding!). I was in Lagos Mainland so I decided to take a leisure stroll through a quiet residential part of Surulere. I have been taking leisure strolls usually lasting over an hour for years, overtime I have developed enviable endurance worthy of embarrassing a camel and challenging those Kenyans athletes that only win marathon events at the Olympics.

The weather was perfect; windy. My selected location was serene and upper class. I grabbed my mobile phone, my wallet and ATM card (never leave the house without cash, I learnt the hard way the day I wound up in the great company of our amazing police officers and had only N75 in my pocket. I became intimately familiar with their station’s interior before the end of the day), shoved my feet into my ridiculously pricey slippers (never smile at a pretty sales girl, they are adept at financial witchcraft) and set out.

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Saturday Morning

Saturday

“I am successful,

I look forward to find opportunities where others see nothing

i am a life-time…..” Success Affirmation-my phone’s ringtone by Olusola Lanre  droned on. I cracked open an eyelid to glimpse at the time and the caller ID so i could curse the person appropriately, it was Jesse, I cursed loudly. It’s the unholy hour of 10am  on a Saturday morning (yes, I am  so not a morning person).

“He-ll-o” I croaked

“Zibah, when last did we see, ah-ahn, the last time we hung out was in May. You owe me a hang-out with you picking up the tab….” my head immediately started hurting me while I saw red.

Y’all remember Jesse right? yes, the infuriating Accountant lady that crowned herself my side-kick. She does have her uses though like being an Alarm Clock.

“……are you even listening to me Zee, hello, hello…” she yelled into the speaker, before I could even reply she launched into another story of a new bar somewhere in Lagos that she must absolutely visit….with me picking up the tab of course.

“so when are we meeting?” she asked.

Zibah: I don’t know, I am quite busy.

Jesse: Don’t give me that, You have been repeating the same excuse for weeks. What are you my besty for?

(I have pleaded severally with Jesse to drop the besty shit before she gets it into her head to dress me in a gown and demands that we do each other’s nails)

Zibah: Ehn! you know how it is, that is why you have to let me know before hand. You need to force me out of the house or I will turn into a hermit and I won’t come for your wedding” I replied. I was super eager to end the call and go back to hugging my pillow but Jesse did not seem ready to get off the line even as my replies were barely coherent.

“hello, hello. Can you hear me?” I half-growled into the receiver

Jesse: I know you can hear me, stop pretending. In fact I am coming in

And with that she ended the call. Grateful to the god of Saturday for small favors, I tossed my phone into a corner and made to return to sleep then I remember Jesse’ last statement. “Coming in” what did she mean?

*ding ding* my frigging bell rang.

Aaaaaarrrgggh! I am so not getting the door. I thought of creeping to the power box and turning it off so as to deactivate the bell but as soon as I made the decision, I heard a key turn in the keyhole.

HOW THE HECK DID SHE GET A COPY OF MY KEY??