Christmas Day: 16 Year Old Boys and Kite High Girls

Hey beautiful people! A belated merry Christmas to you all!

Christmas day is definitely always one of my favourite days in the whole Christmas period, filled with family, friends, spiced meats and too much champagne! It’s definitely a day for jollification! This Christmas day was no different, the party was hosted at my cousins’ house in Lagos, and I saw family members that I haven’t seen in years and years! It’s so weird; the clan has like tripled since we last got together! People I didn’t even remember getting married were married with 2 kids! (Trust me, in a family as big as mine, it’s difficult to keep track of who is married and who is isn’t!) It was super cute meeting all my baby nieces and nephews; babies are so adorable! I love how they are so easily entertained by just about anything you put in front of them! There was even games and karaoke and the mandatory dancing that comes with celebrations. You should see my granddad breaking it down on the dance floor, it really is quite amusing.

This Christmas day was a bit weirder than some other ones I’ve experienced in the past though, I wasn’t quite sure what to make out of this 16 year old boy trying to convince me that he was 18 so that meant I was only a year older than him and therefore we should be together.. Firstly, no, I’m not 19. And secondly, I’m pretty sure he tried to feel my boobs with his head when he came for a bye-bye hug. That was strange; I was like “Hellooo, tiny person. This is very inappropriate!” But hey, it was Christmas day! If him resting his head on my bosom for half a second would have made his day any more special then well… no actually, I take that back. It was still weird!

But even weirder was my encounter with this girl! Okay so I must point out now that I don’t think ive ever seen anyone high, well except my dad's driver but he doesn't count! (May his soul rest in peace) I mean it’s not like I’m some goody two shoes that’s never been around weed but I just don’t think I’ve ever noticed it! Anyways, in comes this girl, extremely scantily clad. (May I point out now that she’s not part of the family) I think she missed the memo that it was a family affair not the strip club. I usually feel bad when I judge people but her outfit was scandalous. Some tiny shorts barely covering her barely-there bum, you know the kind that rises towards the outside to form like a V shape? And some velvety slinky low cut tank top. I will not lie, she did look good, it was just inappropriate! Anyways, I digress. After hours of watching her in amusement and giggling every time someone passed a comment about her choice of attire I had my first encounter with her in my cousins room. Here goes the conversation:

Me: Hey, have you seen Skinny Minnie? (that’s not her actual name)

Inappropriate Girl: No, she was here like twenty minutes ago.

Me (Upon noticing her eyes looking extremely bloodshot against her very yellow skin): Oh my gosh, what’s wrong? Are you okay?  **genuine concern here!*

I.G: Yea I’m fine, I haven’t seen your cousin though.

At this short response, I back out of the room and continue my search. Eventually I find Skinny Minnie and inform her of the earlier occurrence to which she replies nonchalantly. “Oh she’s high, they’ve all been going outside to get high. It's weird.”

Let it be known that “they” were not part of le familia, but still, I found it quite interesting that people were so bold as to get high in front of their parents friends… I really wish I could grow some balls and live recklessly! My stories pale in comparison to theirs! But at least now when i see someone with bloodshot eyes and no visible tears I wouldn't waste my genuine love and care on them. Especially not in this city where the ibo they smoke is fifty times more potent than in the U.K.! Nevertheless, I will not be trying any of the above! I hope the I.G. had a blast! YOLO and things! If not on Christmas Day then when? Haha.

Merry Belated Christmas again to you my lovely readers!

Glad tidings,

Morenike

P.S: Happy Birthday Skinny Minnie! I know you hate being called skinny but the nickname seemed so befitting! I love you lots and lots and lots! Hope you have an amazing day!

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Identify Yourselves: Samantha Vs. Carrie

Samantha’s are extroverts and would walk straight up to the object of their desire and let them know their intentions.

Carrie’s are a bit shyer; they could walk up to the guy but would hardly go past a basic hi-hi conversation

Samantha’s sleep around and get off with different guys because they want to and they can

Carrie’s do it because their friends are doing it

Samantha’s take the boys to her house

Carrie’s try and find a nice romantic hotel last minute and would sometimes settle for the guy’s house, rarely hers.

Samantha’s kick the guy out of bed at the first sight of daylight with money for a coffee on the way home

Carrie’s get up and put on his shirt while making him an omelette for breakfast.

Samantha’s never even got the guys phone number; in fact she doesn’t remember his name!

Carrie’s store their numbers in the guys phone and tell him to call her when he gets home.

Samantha’s can get with the same guy on another random night or a different guy every few nights.

Carrie’s feel a sense of attachment to their latest partners and try to wait as long as possible before they go searching for someone new.

You can never tie a Samantha down, unless she let’s you.

Carrie’s are all too willing to become your girlfriend; if you give her the chance she’d be meeting your mum before the holidays run out.

Samantha’s know they are sexy and make sure that everyone else in the room knows it too.

Carrie’s are just as sexy but more likely to wait to be noticed.

Samantha’s aren’t afraid of a little experimentation.

Carrie’s prefer the more PG things of life.

Samantha’s are go-getters all the way.

Carrie’s like to be chased and wooed.

Although let’s remember, both Samantha’s and Carrie’s can get hurt, sadly no one is immune to that. So decide for yourselves ladies, are you a Samantha or a Carrie? Be honest! What do you think of my list? Did I miss anything major out? Share your thoughts in the comment box J

Stolen Suitcase!!

My suitcase got stolen. Yes, you read that right my suitcase got stolen. There is no other explanation for its unexplained disappearance. One faithful evening I was commuting from London to Manchester, on arrival at Manchester I realised that my baggage was gone. If you’ve ever watched the movie Flight Plan then you know exactly how I felt, I was so sure that I had embarked on this journey with a suitcase and there I was running helter skelter from carriage to carriage trying to locate this bag. After all of this I had to report the missing bag to a number of people, some woman asked me to estimate how much everything in the bag was worth, like that would help them bring it in any faster! Anyways, I eventually got my bag back, turns out some woman had taken it by mistake and left hers on the train. After informing various friends that my bag had been recovered fully intact and thanking God, I was warned several times to always put my luggage where I can see it or to at least check it from time to time to make sure it is still there.

I write this post as I’m sitting on the train on the return leg of my journey. Again, my suitcase is in an end carriage that I can’t see from my seat. I wonder if it would still be there when I arrive in London. LOL.

Forever Stubborn :)

My Adventures in London Town

So I randomly have those days where I literally want to blog till my mind is emptied. Sometimes I look at blogging as a way of out pouring everything from my otherwise completely saturated mind on to paper or rather screen, whatever you want to call it and I just yap yap yap away until im satisfied! I guess what im trying to say is get ready to read some of the things that go on in the inner crevices of my mind. Whoopty Doo!

So the other day, I was on my way to Upton Park to go and get my hair done at some Jamaican woman's’ shop. Had to get up super early, which is always a struggle and a half and enter the stupid rush hour that the City of London is so infamous for. It was during this trip that I had a revelation! Well I suppose it’s not really a revelation if I’ve pretty much always known but yea. I can NOT live and work in London! It is just ridiculous!

The amount of people that pack themselves on to the London Underground every single morning during rush hour is ridiculous! From the lowly interns, to the ones that look like they own their own business in London Bridge, EVERYONE becomes united in their daily commute. And did I mention the heat?? It is beyond atrocious! How am I supposed to get to work feeling fresh and alert, if just 10 minutes before, I was packed tighter than sardines in a little carriage full of other hot sweaty people? It’s almost repulsive even! I understand all the perks of the underground trust me, it’s faster, it’s convenient, you don’t need to sit in hours of traffic etc. But I had to ask myself, is it EVER that deep?

Sadly, the answer is no! Not for me anyways, I’m not sure I can give up the life I have envisioned for myself in naij, rolling around in a car in and things. Even in traffic sef I don’t mind, as long as there’s A.C. I’d buy plantain chips from those boys and listen to Weezy baby (Wizkid btw, not Wayne).  Meanwhile before someone pounces, yes I know that this sounds spoilt and brattish and assuming I lived in London, perhaps I too will join those commuters (as if!) but guess what? It’s my opinion, not yours J

Anyways, the salon! It is the funniest place I’ve been too in a long while! After arriving there at 9.10 am, the rollers of the shop were still down, yet there was already a woman waiting, she hustled to secure her spot as number 1, arriving at a spectacular 8.30 a.m. luckily for me, I’m second. Anyways people keep pouring in till the doors are opened at about 9.45. At 10.30, customer number 4 arrives. She’s some crazy woman with her jacked up weave. Her conversation is as follows

Enters Crazy Lady

Crazy Lady: Please oh! I have a flight to catch by 3 and I have soo mant things to do today, I really need to do my hair quickly so I can leave here on time

                                  ***all customers and hairdressers stop and stare***

1^st Hairdresser: Okay aunty, please sit down, you will be after these people (points to all those waiting)

Crazy Lady: But where is Hawa? She knows me, I am her customer.

Let it be known now that Hawa is one of those boisterous Jamaican women that you can’t rush, or even attempt to fight with.

Customer 1: Yes, I am her customer 2 and I have been here since 8.30 and there are still people before you, if you wanted to be first you would have been here since!

Crazy Lady: Hmn, all I know is I must leave here by 1

Laughter ensues all around, as a black female you should know that going to the salon is a whole day fiasco! Minimum of 4 hours, so be prepared! This woman had very little chance of leaving before 4 p.m.

2^nd Hairdresser: Ahh, Aunty that one is not possible oh. But let us try sha.

30 minutes later, they have just started doing my cornrows, bearing in mind that I am number 2. Meanwhile in these 30 minutes she complained incessantly to customers 1 and 3, customer 3 is busy consoling her while explaining that she cannot come and ‘chance’ anyone, while customer 1 is slowly getting the truth about this flight at 3 p.m. surely the woman should be headed to the airport by now not so? Meanwhile, I was busy playing Temple Run and slightly eavesdropping to pass away the time.

Crazy Lady: Please I hate sitting here doing nothing, I’m going to go and come back. You people should keep my place oh!

(gossiping and laughter at her foolish ways after she had left)

11.30 a.m. Hawa the main hairdresser finally arrives, she is told of the tale and says in her Jamo accent “Don maind dat crazy gyal, she been calling ma phone al marning. I get other tins to do ya know.”

Unfortunately I have no idea whether she ever came back or not as I carried on with my life and was out of the salon at 2 p.m. I really wonder if she ever fixed her hair AND made that flight. Oh well

Adios!