Monday, 11 April 2011
WHAT IS IN A WOMAN'S HANDBAG?
MY SHAME
His eyes hold my will at bay
His eyes command and yes...
I have no choice but to obey.
'Take off your clothes,' he tells me
And my body tingles as I concur;
He sits and watches me,
Whilst reassuring me with his voice, his love for me..
Clad in nothing, I stand proudly before him
And watch as his eyes light up
I am pleased that he is pleased
I slowly catwalk towards him & just then......
The phone rings and I watch his demeanour change as he picks it.
'Hello my heart' he says not looking at me
I stop in shock
And without remorse, he continues
'I want to clear these last files'
My mouth opens but no words come out
'I will be home soon, love you' he finishes
Dropping the phone, he tells me to continue
'Don't mind the nag, I had to pacify her'
'You deceived me' I finally say, my voice, nothing but a whisper
He smiles, swears his undying love to me and abuses 'the nag' in one breath and yet...
Yet he steals a glance at his watch
and my shame is complete!
Slowly, my hands cover my bosom
and ever so slowly I pick up my clothing...
No, my tears will not fall here!
I must leave with my head held high!
And that is how I leave,
Naked...but with my head held high
Although I can't explain the tears coursing down my cheeks...
They must be tears of anger at me...and my shame!
CAN TECHNOLOGY MAKE OR BREAK A RELATIONSHIP?
Everything about the handsome stranger I met at a friend’s dinner party added up on paper. We shared a similar passion for scary movies (the gorier the better) and mutual appreciation for bourbon.
At the end of the evening, we traded contact information and I looked forward to our next encounter.
That is, until I got the first text message from him.
Sentences sprouted unusual capitalizations and were punctuated by gaping chasms of unnatural spacing. E-mails were worse. They rarely managed to arrive intact, usually the result of prematurely hitting “send.”
I was horrified. As someone who spends a good deal of her time thinking and talking about technology, I had trouble imagining getting along with someone who had little mastery of the services and tools that preoccupy the majority of my day.
Of course, there are much worse dating offenses. One girlfriend I confided in reminded me of discovering a towering collection of moldy newspapers and street posters in the apartment of her last crush. Another countered my complaints with tales of dates that refused to put down their Black Berry during meals and occasionally obsessed over her latest tweets or facebook status updates. It could be refreshing, she said, to meet someone blissfully unaware of popular digital preoccupations.
But in an era when most of our exchanges take place over the web or a mobile device, it’s hard to deny that good technical know-how could be important in the modern dating game.
Friday, 8 April 2011
SEX AND THE SIXTY
They say life begins at forty. But mine was officially over by then. My name is Osaro Oghenekevbe. I used to be the campus dude who knew what’s up during my hay days – my nicky “Double O” could attest to that. I could tell the taste of a woman from the curl of her lips, or the colour of her lipstick. I knew how to turn every girl on – until I met my wife. If someone had actually told me I would get married in this life, I would have wished to swallow a bag of nails instead. But here I am, married to the woman of my nightmare – Ogene. Actually, I wouldn’t really say I married her. My mom did – when I turned forty and she felt my life was heading for the doldrums. Not only was Ogene a minus facially, she was too local to be my wife. I mean a girl from the village? The gods forbid! And not only was she also short, she was actually a midget! I thought they said thunder never struck at the same place twice. But with Ogene, it struck more than thrice. She was just bad luck, and the cause of my present predicament. I married her because my mom threatened if I didn’t, she would beat her flaccid breasts for me.
We have been married for about twenty-five years now – or thereabout. I can’t really figure our anniversary date. You wouldn’t if you were in my shoes. So you can guess my age... yes, late sixties. Our first night together was a total disaster! One look at her nakedness and I lost my libido - FOREVER! Come on, don’t laugh. I mean it. Can you imagine making love to a midget? Ah-ha! My man became like my aged mothers breast, forever. So, for like twenty-five years, I didn’t know what it felt like to have s...
My doctors have recommended a whole lot of bullshit. Forgive my language. (It’s only an expression of my agitation.) To get my grooves back on since I turned forty, I have done things real sane people wouldn’t. I have been on therapy, gone to the church, mosque and recently, the herbalists. I have drunk concoctions in the name of natural herbs and I have starved myself to death-points in the name of dry fasts!
Today,all that is about to become history. A friend just recommended a rare treatment – a visit to a call-girl. I throttle into the brothel on three feet with a paper in hand. It was my ticket to youthfulness. Written on the paper is the name of my mistress – Ibukun. I ask everyone I see for her room and they direct me further. The hall smells of burnt tobacco and strong ale. Screams of ecstasy and mortal fulfilments ooze out of the dark, filthy rooms by my side. The sully hallway, with paraphernalia ranging from pails with dirty water to shoes of both hosts and clients, looks like a coven. Clients stand by doors waiting for their turns. The red-yellow bulb above my head blinks erratically.
I finally get to my room. Luckily for me, there is no client waiting. My aged hand shakes uncontrollably as I knock on the door. An angelic voice invites me in. I brush my hair (if only I still have a strand on) with my rough palm, dust my shirt and move into the dark room.
“Undress and close your eyes,” the sweet voice commands in the dark.
Excitedly, I obey. My imagination grows wild. I expect my miracle.
“But wait,” I say. “I like to do it with the lights on.”
“No problem, papa,” Ibukun says as she saunters to the switchboard.
*Click***Click**... the lights go on as I open my eyes to see my saviour. And what?! Standing before me is who? Ogene?!! My Ogene?!!! What? How? What prank is this? My midget wife on G-string? In a brothel?
Another look at her thick, muscular nakedness, my heart takes a long pause...and restarts. And I know I am going to have a cardiac arrest!!!
ANIFERAZ COUTURE SETS THE PACE
A leading fashion house in the East of the Niger, Aniferaz Couture got our Models dressed and polished up in these masculine cuts of the 21st century.
Thursday, 7 April 2011
360 RULES
Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.
The four looks: Look back and get experience; Look forward and see hope; Look around and find reality; Look within and find confidence.
A noble idea without action is as pointless as a spear tip. Each good thought gains value only when put into action.
The world is not a parking place; it's a racetrack. Keep moving. No matter when and where you start, you can reach your goal and make a new record.
If you learn to translate every event of your life into a positive one, you'll stop being a prisoner of your past and will become the architect of your future.
To believe is to know that every day is a new beginning. It is to trust that miracles happen and dreams really do come true.
Good decisions come from experience and experience comes from bad decisions. Every failure teaches you a new way to succeed.
If somebody is going down the wrong road, he doesn’t need motivation to speed him up. What he needs is education to turn him around.
Without continual growth and progress such words as improvement, achievement and success have no meaning.
Don’t strain your neck to turn back and ponder over your past mistakes and incidents for too long. Look forward and move forward into the future.
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