How to lose your appetite in 3 seconds

Okro-soup-goatmeatIt was a day not quite like any other day when I popped out of the office with a colleague for lunch at a nearby local restaurant. I was so hungry I could eat a horse (word to my stomach). I settled down to an aromatic bowl of okra soup with a generous ball of pounded yam and I couldn’t have washed my hand any quicker so I could dig in. It was halfway through my gulps of satisfaction and eyes rolling to the back of my head that an over zealous restaurant staff decided to reach over an switch on the air-conditioning close to me. Nothing prepared me for the next thing that happened.

Let’s make this a bit more interesting. Which of the following scenarios took place after the restaurant switched on the air-conditioning:

  1. A baby roach crawled into my okra soup
  2. Sweat from the restaurant staff’s forehead dropped into my pounded yam
  3. A gush of soot hit my face and landed on my entire lunch plate

Now only one of the above scenarios actually took place today and was immediately followed by a thousand apologies and an offer of a replacement meal. The winners get a social media treat courtesy of the Crazy Nigerian so have a go 😀

 

Entry #64 – You goofed!

I don’t know why I felt like writing about this…maybe it’s because I feel a few of us might have experienced something similar in the past. People’s reactions vary when they are accused of doing something they didn’t. Some flare up, some argue, some ignore it and some just give in maybe due to fear (if its coming from a huge mo’fo), uncertainty or just plain forgetfulness. I tend to get a lil’ heated when I get accused falsely and I don’t blame anyone who feels the same way.

About 3 weeks ago I popped into a fast-food joint and asked the bored looking sales assistant to give me a Lemonade drink(which was called ‘TEEM’). There were other brands in the refrigerator but I distinctly remember telling to give me TEEM as she hesitated to choose the right one. To my surprise she brought out two lemonade drinks and started to run the till. I looked about me just to make sure I didn’t come with anyone else and then I asked her she gave me 2 drinks instead of 1. She said I told her so!

Somewhere between ‘TEEM’ and opening the fridge this deaf lady heard me say ‘TWO’. And that was how a trivial argument started. She wasn’t planning to charge for 2 drinks but she was adamant that I said I want 2 drinks. I told her she heard what she wanted to hear. Perhaps she wanted one for herself and this was her sly why of trying to get it. She goofed!

Another similar case (of a milder nature) happened yesterday while I was preparing to write a professional exam. I was sitting at a desk marked ‘004’ which was my examination number. A fair, pretty young lad strolled up to me, paused and But then said to me, ‘You’re in my seat’. I didn’t even flinch because of how wrong I knew she was. I kept calm and just asked her (nicely) to show me her examination card. She handed it over and then I read out to her really slowly ‘104’. Her embarrassment and scurrying off was enough pleasure for me. She goofed too!

Now I have to reassure any potential (female) readers that I’m not a misogynist and that men goof too. I just didn’t recall any similar examples at the time I wrote this piece!

I LOVE YOU MUM (see! I love women :D)

Entry #62 – Couching Blogger, Hidden Laptop

I feel like I’ve been on the longest holiday ever…away from WordPress, that is. I’ve been focusing more on other aspects of my life in recent weeks and the demon of Procastination has been deterring me from adding new entries to my blog. Well, so much for the demon…I’ve exorcized him like Constantine and finished him off with a roundhouse kick – Haiii ya!

 Speaking of movies, I believe I am officially the last person in Lagos to have finally watched Avatar last weekend. I feel so behind with movies. You would think that the Avatar clock on the right-hand side of this blog would imply I had seen the movie at least 5times (fooled you all, hehe!). I must say, it was worth the delay…the story line, the action, the cast, the love scene…ok, the love scene could have been better. I believe this movie would have beaten The Blind Side if they had done justice to the Avatar love scene. Yes, if Jake Sully (in human form) made love to Netiri then James Cameron would’ve probably cleaned out the Oscars. I guess the only dilemma would be how to make a cripple mating with an 8ft blue alien with a tail look convincingly romantic. Anyway, the ending leaves more to be desired…but it does take care of the ‘mating’ puzzle!

 Straight after Avatar (as if I had not already gotten a high enough dosage of Sam Worthington) I decided to watch Clash of the Titans. Quite frankly, the original and even Jason and the Argonauts (2000) were far better. Medusa wasn’t scary-looking at all. The build-up to Medusa was perfect until I saw how pale she was. She should have looked dark green or dark grey with no pupils or cat eyes and razor sharp teeth – imagine waking up next to that in the morning. The killer scorpions were too big (the director should have stuck to about 7ft). The Craken definitely wasn’t the climax it was ‘craked’up to be either. What would it have costed the director just to wait a month or two for Sam’s hair to grow long a bit? He looked ridiculous as the only guy in the movie who appeared to have stepped back in time (equipped with his pair of Wahl clippers) and sporting a shaven head. That just killed it for me instantly. Where was the romance between Persius and Andromeda? This remake is a good guide on how NOT to do remake. As far as getting my money’s worth I’d say that for the ridiculously low cost of the N200/$1 bootleg copy I got (yeah yeah, shame on me), it still wasn’t worth it – It was just…er…worthington!

Next time I’ll get some hot buttered popcorn and some wine gums to get me through my movie binge. Rediscovering my laptop has almost been like resuming school after a summer break – yep, it kinda sucks. But I do love my leather couch. It’s stolen the best part of my time from WordPress and is beckoning me now………Must…resist…the coziness……Need to keep typing…can’t go on much longer…ass-to-cushion attraction at 85%…situation critical…attempting evasive manouvre…shit! May day! Mayday!…The ass is going down, I repeat, The ass is going down!!! Do you copy??? 😀

Entry #61 – I’m a slave

I can’t help but feel that way sometimes. Anytime when I feel I’m not in control I just subconciously see those rusty shackles clasped around my wrists and ankles. I feel that way in the morning when I have to put on my suit and tie to go to work in order to earn a salary. I feel that way when I’m in the supermarket when I have to spend money on bread, water, milk and other groceries. I feel that way on the road when I have to obey the traffic lights at night even when there is clearly no oncoming vehicle as far as my eyes can see. I feel that way when I have to study for months just to get a certificate for a professional qualification. I feel that when one of my customers/clients hails fire and brimstone over the phone and I have to keep my cool and manage the situation without being rude. Being a slave is not at all pleasant. Everybody likes freedom. Freedom to be yourself and do what you want to do.

…The only time I don’t particularly mind being a slave is when I’m in the bedroom with my girlfriend – if you’re reading this, dear, I love you 😀

Entry #58 – My 100th Post!

Phew! It has been a long but exciting ride for me on WordPress.com. I’ve learnt a lot from the website and from fellow bloggers. I’ve tapped into a subconscious being within and given it a voice…a home…some fans…some critics…and some friends. I’ve been able to view the visitors that have stumbled upon my blog from all over the world thanks to Feedjit. I’ve been able to see the popularly viewed posts and pages via my Dashboard. This post would have been more memorable if it was posted on the day I got 5000hits on my blog (4714 at the time of this post). Well, the bubbly is cooling in the fridge so that leaves me some time to think about how to make this post a memorable one.

I could recall things I’ve said in the past that I wished I hadn’t: Like telling a girl at Uni that I liked her moustache (it wasn’t overly prominent but since I was drunk at the time it became astonishingly more visible); or I could write about the time I had a face-off with my car (yes, my car) as I stood with the car-remote for close to 10mins pressing the lock button only for the car to lock and unlock simultaneously (what I didn’t realize was that the boot was open and the car in its ‘car-speak’ was trying to tell me ‘Look, you moron! I aint f***ing locking this car until you go and shut my f***ing boot!) ah…good times; that same night I was unfortunate enough to have locked myself out after taking out the trash (the kind of thing that happens to bloggers who get lost in thought).

Or what about the time I was frying an egg and was careless enough not to realize that I put a little too much oil in the pan and the oil was exceedingly hot – the result? Egg drops into the pan, oil splashes out of the pan…and straight into my right eye! Hmm, what were my words at that time…I believe they something like ‘Aaaaaaaaah shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!! God please…not my eye (washing my eye out frantically in the kitchen sink while my ‘sunny-side up’ was fast becoming a ‘black-hawk down’). Thankfully there were no scars…just tears…of joy (I swear! I can see! I can see!).

And what about the time one of my so-called friends talked me into taking on a 7ft bouncer? The turning point of this particular face-off must have been in the basement-style niteclub when 2 of the bouncer’s mates (beefcakes compared to my two puny mates) arrived and then he went, ‘LOCK THE DOOR!’ (need I tell you I made a run for that door like my life depended on it). The whole incident started when the bouncer shoved me while I was distributing promotional flyers for my upcoming club gig (this was about 5 years ago whilst in the UK). I wasn’t hurt by my 2 mates wanted vengeance. In the end, we talked the talk and shortly after we walked the walk (who am I kidding – I ran like hell!); Oh! I almost forgot about my bubbly in the fridge!

I guess this would be as good a time as any to make a toast (raises glass of juice…only because I know you wouldn’t really believe I would open a bottle of MOET to celebrate 100posts on my blog). I’d like to make a toast -” To another 100posts in the near future. With any luck this blog will blossom into something bigger than I could ever imagine, and at the very least this blog would remain on the World Wide Web for the Whole Wide World to see long after I make an exit – The Crazy Nigerian will live on…cheers!” 😀

Entry #57 – Have you sighted a U.B.O?

I was just thinking to myself, ‘I could be sitting next to a blogger and not even know it’. It could be someone sitting next to me in church. It could be a colleague in my office. It could be the driver in the car in front or behind me. It could be just about anybody. 

But what if there was some  way of identifying bloggers, maybe a customized wrist-band or something.

The positives are worth considering:

  1. You could become a socialite overnight. Some people still start up conversations with asking about whether or not the other person is on Facebook. Well, you could tell someone your blog address instead and kick-off from there.
  2. You don’t have to worry about giving out your personal phone number to a stranger or deliberately giving out a phony number in the first place. Just be sure to limit the amount of personal info you display on your blog.
  3. You could build up your fanbase through your outdoor interactions and even enjoy the benefits of word-of-mouth.
  4. Who knows if you will stumble upon your future life partner as a result of wearing your blog on your sleeve? You’d certainly enjoy the benefits of mouth-to-mouth 😉
  5. Bloggers would be better connected and able to have ‘reunions’ or ‘exclusive real-life blog parties’ and what about real-life awards…not just online awards with no clapping audience or interludes with performing artists. This is a possibilty in the near future but it has to start from somewhere.

This could unite bloggers all over the world. I dare to imagine how many blogs are out there in Blogosphere. Things are becoming so techy and isolated. I guess I want bloggers to be able to be seen outside in the real world and not just on-screen. After all, we are not UBOs (Unidentified Blogging Objects) we are human…aren’t we? (sigh)

Legend of the Lost Follicles

They were curly. They were jet black. They were about 4inches in length when stretched. At the tender age of ten I was quickly able to manipulate their direction by harnessing the power of the Comb; and so, like sheep to a shepherd they obeyed my every command. Back then I could boast having over a billion in my possession. Now I have barely a million left. What happened? Was this some kind of curse? Was this the evil work of my arch-enemy, Genetics? Today the silence is broken as I embark on a quest to discover what really happened to the follicles that once crowned my fertile scalp.

 From my second year at primary school I was the Lord of the Afro. I had a few worthy competitors but none could keep theirs as rounded and silky-soft like mine. I understand now why girls spent a long time in the bathrooms. I would admire my curly black locks and think, ‘Mirror Mirror on the wall/ Whose is the fullest fro of them all?’ And my imaginary response from the mirror was, ‘Yo dawg! You sport the meanest, bad-ass, afro on the f***ing planet!’. However, something went terribly wrong in my sixth year. It was an accident at the barbershop and it was an experience that I will never forget.

After school one fateful day I was escorted by mum to the guillotine. How I wish it was my head that was chopped off – that would have been quick and pretty painless. I sat in the black leather chair and watched as the female hairstylist cleaned the clippers she planned to execute my beloved possession. I remember my mum giving her specific instructions: ‘Make it low but not too low’. Ok, perhaps this could be likened to the How long is a piece of string – dilemma. It was a conspiracy and I think my mum and the hairstylist were in on it together. The mirror was so high up that I couldn’t see what the f*** she was doing. She was having some mindless gossip session with her colleague and I just watched chunks of fluffy black follicles rain down before my eyes…and the chunks got smaller and smaller until…my mum eventually came to my late rescue shouting, ‘WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?’ I went from Gary Coleman to ‘Scary Old-man’ in 10mins flat. My mum said it wasn’t that bad but when I beheld the horror in the mirror I looked pretty much like…a dick, to be brutally honest. I found one of my dad’s golf caps and I tried it on to hide my baldness – now I looked like a dick with a cap on.

The next day at school would be a real test of my guts. Could I get away with wearing a cap throughout the day without being confronted by any of the teachers about it? Fat chance. I barely made it through the first hour of Mathematics when the teacher told me to take my cap off. I hesitated. He repeated it and promised to flog the living daylights out of me if I didn’t (and believe me, that guy could flog a dead horse back to life). I slowly reached for my cap and I after I took it off nobody really paid attention to the Long Division Technique on the blackboard. My classmates were jeering and pointing at my perspiring, glowing head. I don’t think I looked at anybody in the face for more than 3seconds that day. I didn’t go for recess, but that didn’t help. Some just stayed back to pick on me even more. I was called all sorts of names. It was the giggling and whispering amongst the girls that really pissed me off. I was a 4ft walking microphone…with arms.

Alas, my tale is far from over. My head would not remain a shiny, opaque crystal ball forever. My hair would grow back like Samson in the bible (and then I‘d push the pillars of my school building apart so that the concrete came crashing down on all those who mocked me!!! – nah, not really). I would regain my crown and join the big leagues again with Soul4Real, Craig Mack, Undercover Brother and The Nutty Professor…

Entry #56 – Hit and run

The (Black) Chery A520

2days ago I was driving back home in my black Chery after work in the evening when I encountered an overzealous motorpsyhcolist motorcyclist  at a roundabout. I was well on my way to detour into my street when the bike decided to cut across at the last minute. It was a very close shave. I braked suddenly and the motorcyclist also swerved to avoid a head-on collision. However he scampered unto a nearby kerb in the process and lost balance – both he and his male passenger stumbled to the ground. I, on the otherhand, sped off!

Technically I didn’t hit the bike or its passengers so could this really be called a Hit and Run? I think the appropriate expression would be Brake and Run – that’s what I did. The reason why I ran is that Lagos motorcyclists can be notorious for their guerilla justice i.e. ganging up with other motorcyclists and then outnumbering Poor You. Before you know it, stories are being fabricated against you and everything you say is a lie. Your car could be vandalized and you could even be picked up by LASTMA (these road marshalls are the equivalent of the Gestapo around these parts).

Sincerely speaking, if I had made contact with the bike I would have stopped and parked off the road to attend to the pseudo-casualties. I had the right of way and the bike cut across, jumping a red light. Well, I’m sure the motorcyclist and his passengers were okay. It’s not like they lost balance on the main road and got trampled upon by uncoming motorists. Now that would have been a sight…yikes!

Lagos Life – A guide to choosing stuff

Grab your trolley and lets go shopping around for…stuff in Lagos, Nigeria. I’ll show you the top choices of the average Lagosian but note that the list is not exhaustive.

Mobile phone network/line:

  • MTN
  • Zain
  • Glo
  • Starcomms
  • Visafone

Bank account opening:

  • GTB
  • Zenith
  • UBA
  • First Bank
  • Stanbic IBTC

Eateries:

  • Tasty Fried Chicken
  • Barcelos
  • Nandos
  • Big Treat
  • Mr. Biggs

Alcohol/Beer:

  • Star
  • Guinness
  • Gulder
  • Heineken
  • Satzenbrau

Malt drinks:

  • Malta Guinness
  • Maltina
  • Amstel Malta
  • Maltex
  • Power Malt

Chinese cuisine:

  • Jade Garden
  • Golden Gate
  • Mr. Wang’s
  • China Town
  • Flamingo

Flat Screen TVs:

  • LG
  • Samsung
  • Sony
  • Phillips
  • Panasonic

Cable/Satellite Television

  • DSTV
  • HiTV
  • MiTV

Cinemas:

  • Silverbird (V.I & Yaba)
  • Shoprite
  • City Mall

Generators:

  • Honda Elemax
  • Tiger
  • Hyundai
  • Mikano
  • Suzuki

Domestic airlines:

  • Virgin Nigeria (soon to be ‘Eagle Flyer’)
  • Aero Contractors
  • Arik
  • Dana Air
  • Chanchangi

Recreational centres:

  • Ikoyi Club
  • Lagos Country Club
  • The Beach (Island)
  • Shoprite, Lekki
  • Metropark

Bars/Nite Clubs:

  • Soul Lounge (News Cafe)
  • Club Towers Prive
  • Black Pearl
  • Bacchus (formerly ‘11.45’)
  • 10 (JJ Okocha’s)

Okay, that’s enough shopping for one day. Let’s proceed to the checkout! Show me the monaaay!!!

Entry #54 – Don’t panic…it’s only a card!

…my examination card, that is. After leaving the examination centre yesterday I could have sworn it left with me and got into my car as I drove home. I was gravely dissappointed when I started looking through my folder close to 15times. I must have checked the ins and outs of my car to the point that a passerby would have thought I was clearly under the influence of some class-A drugs…or that I was looking for a stash of the same.

What can I say? I’m careless. And so the inevitable torture cycle begins:

Anxiety – Which I’ve already pointed out. Accelerated heartbeat, dry mouth, struggling to study for the next exam…reading the words but they’re just not sinking in (because you lost you’re f***ing examination card, that’s why)

Time-travel – Retracing my steps (in my mind) and seeing that card when it last rested between my fingers…yes, I could see myself dropping it on a table as I submitted my answer sheet. The invigilator must be keeping it safe for me…yay! 😀

Doubt – What if I took it out of the exam centre, carelessly dropped it outside the premises before I zoomed off and its sitting by in an algae-infested gutter somewhere with my passport pic getting a slimy makeover? nay! 😦

Self-blame – Well there’s no one else to blame but me. It was all my fault, no blonde-girl distraction, no ice-cream truck, and certainly no facebook mobile update. This was pure, unadulterated, crazy nigerian- carelessness!

And after all this what comes next? What other ordeal do I need to go through in order to move on with my life?

Hope?. I hoped I would still be let into the exam centre the following day to do the exam anyway (even though entry without the card is strictly forbidden). I hoped that I could probably bribe one of the invigilators with a stripper (or two) if that was what was required. I hoped I would look in my folder for the 16th time and maybe, just maybe, I would mysteriously find it. I did a lot of hoping…but no, the answer was Prayer, and at precisely 8am today (an hour before the exam) I had an epiphany.

I was staring at the same page of my study pack for the last 20mins (quietly worrying) when something said to me ‘Look again around the passenger’s seat and look carefully this time’. I pulled the lever underneath and pulled the chair forward and at the side of the chair facing the car door, a white half-A4 sized card stuck out. ‘HALLELUJAH! Thank you Lord, God thank you thank you thank you I love you….oh man…whooo!…where’s my phone…Mum, guess what? I found it!…’

Well let’s say that the words I read started to sink in a bit better and now that my exams are over all I can do is sit and wait…ok…sit, blog and wait 😉

Entry #52 – The bullet in my bathroom

Just when I thought life was becoming a little bit boring and predictable I experienced a sudden rush of adrenaline 2 nights ago around 8pm when I heard a loud bang in my bathroom. There wasn’t any electricity at the time and I was alone in my flat. I walked past the bathroom (which serves as a spare for guests and is separate from my ensuite) and for a second I thought it was a gun-shot. The next I thought was that my sink had fallen apart or the shower curtain rail came crashing down…but surely it must have been a fire cracker or something. With the light from my Nokia E75 I sneaked into the bathroom and inspected the surroundings and then I tripped on something metallic. I picked it up and at first I thought it might have been part of a heavy duty nail but on closer inspection I realized it was a bullet.

The first thing I would have done at this point is call in the CSI (Las Vegas) team to do their nifty forensic work. I would let Grisham bamboozle me with words like ‘Trajectory’ and ‘Ricochet’ and the watch them as they scamper around looking for the ‘Entry point’. That night I barely slept because I felt this wasn’t random. I’ve lived in this flat for close to 6months and nothing like this has ever happened. I couldn’t help but ask myself, ‘Was someone trying to kill me?’

I had a mental list of people I suspected I had ticked-off and probably wanted my blood as payback:

  1. My recent ex-girlfriend – Looks innocent but is capable of something like this now that I think about it.
  2. My neighbour – I told her off for shouting like she was the only one living in the compound going ‘MAAARIAAA!!!’ repeatedly
  3. The Security Guard’s mate – They wine and dine with my security guard outside the compound and I don’t like the dodgy ‘I kill you!’ looks I get from them sometimes.

I found later the following day that there was a hole in my bathroom ceiling. Part of  the shape was an exact replica of the bullet lying horizontally. I expected the shape to be round. There were no holes in my window or walls so I got Googling…asking the seemingly dumb question, ‘Can a bullet go off by itself?’

I was pleasantly suprised indeed when I came across the following answer from Yahoo! Answers: “No. Something has to make contact with the primer or cause the primer to get really hot. Dropping or hitting a round, or throwing it into a fire can cause it ignite.”  So it was actually possible for the bullet to have just gone off without being in a gun chamber. By the looks of the photo above, the bullet must have been lying flat when it suddenly penetrated the ceiling unto my bathroom floor. So how could this be explained further?

If you observe in the diagram opposite, my bullet is very similar and there is actually a primer at the back of the bullet (labelled ‘5’). What could have triggered it? Heat? If so why didn’t it go off in the peak of the hot afternoon? Why in the evening after dark? Could a mouse or rat have been tampering with the primer before the bullet went off? I didn’t see any rodent body parts or blood around the crime scene. This bullet just descended by its own free will.

Thankfully I wasn’t doing a ‘Number 2’ when this near-homicide took place. Just imagine, being found dead with a bullet in your head, pants halfway down, toilet unflushed and no trace of a killer. That’s what I call a freak accident – Perhaps this can be used for the next Final Destination movie installment ( …I think they should be working on part 5 now.) But this begs the question, what kind of tenants where living in this apartment before I moved in? Drug barons?, Assassins? Ex-military mercenaries? Are there anymore bullets lying up there in my ceiling. Even worse, is there gun cache up there? a dead body? If I start to smell something funny (and I know it’s not me) then I’m going up there to investigate…

 

N.B – That black spot in the celing is the bullet hole…crikey!

Entry #51 – Plan C

In ‘Operation Daybreak’ (the 1975 World War II film based on the true story of the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich in Prague) the 2 spies behind the assassination were in for a nasty surprise when their plans went terribly wrong. The first attempt to shoot their target on a moving train was a bit of a stretch but then came Plan B but would you believe that even with one of the spies standing a few feet from his target pointing, eye to eye,  with a fully loaded semi-automatic the unexpected happened…

I believe that no matter what you plan to do there is a probability that due to life’s unforeseen circumstances your plan wont always work exactly as you expected – that’s not a pessimistic perspective I’m just being realistic. Look at Weddings, for example. I hear such things as ‘the perfect wedding’ and here I’m not referring to the ‘wedding you dream to have’…I’m talking about ‘making sure every single thing goes according to plan. You could wake up late on the wedding day (perhaps your slept through your alarm), or you could be down with a cold or an upset stomach (especially if you had the dodgy curry last night), the car you’re supposed to take doesn’t start, or it rains cats and dogs, or you stain your rented tuxedo, or the bride and the bridesmaids  arrive late, or the 3 year-old ring bearer boy decides it would be fun to swallow the wedding ring…the list of unfortunate events is indeed endless.  

What you might have observed in my examples is that it’s not always just other people that could let you down…YOU can let yourself down (e.g. you slept through your alarm, remember?). So whenever you have something big planned you need to have a back-up plan or what is more commonly known as a ‘plan B’. Such contigency plans are priceless tactics employed by just about every meticulous government, tycoon, stockbroker, wedding planner, boxer (well, in the case of Tyson Vs. Holifield I do not condone biting a chunk of our opponent’s ear when you’re losing)…you get my drift? You need to think of the worst thing that could possibly happen to ruin your plans and then plan for it and be sure that as much as possible your plan is air-tight, blunder-proof, anti-Enron…but is that enough? surely if I set my alarm on my mobile phone (which I will be charging overnight and is preset on the highest, most irritating tone and volume level) then I don’t need to do anything else, right? WRONG.

There is of course Plan C and the best part about this plan is (not the obvious fact that it takes care of the shortfalls of Plan B, duh) this plan makes you want to say, ‘well, why the hell did I bother with plan B in the first place?’ Ah, yes plan C is a thing of beauty, a work of art…only the brilliant minds can pull off one of these…but I beg to differ. Plan C’s usually require a third party that you can count on with your life. I’m talking ‘Bonnie & Clyde’ loyalty here. We all must have at least one person who wont let us down no matter what and you never know…someone might be relying on you to be their Plan C. Enjoy the ambush clip from Operation Daybreak to see how it went down…

Plan C…because Plan B’s not always enough.

Entry #44 – Sanusi and the Half-Wit MDs

Iron Man

Iron Man

The hottest news that is sweeping the country (Nigeria) right now is the recent sacking of 5 Managing Directors by the governor Sanusi Lamido Sanusi of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN). Yes, the end was nigh for the fraudulent five on 14th August 2009 at a monthly meeting held in Abuja. I like to think of the whole ordeal as something straight out of The Apprentice…with Sanusi staring down at the MDs through his spectacles sternly and then shouting and pointing suddenly going, ‘ YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU AAAAAND ESPECIALLY YOU WITH THE PRIVATE JET..YOU’RE ALL FIRED! NOW GET THE F*** OUT OF MY OFFICE!!!’

Did those MDs see this coming? (Doubt it). Did those MDs deserve this? (Hell yeah!) Does anyone disagree with Sanusi’s actions? (Who the bloody hell cares? Its too late crying over spilt milk anyway). The banks in question were amongst 10 that were ‘stress’ tested to see whether, put simply, they would be able to pay up if per chance all their respective customers were to demand for their money all at once. Those banks are off the Nigerian stockmarket for obvious reasons.Meanwhile, there’s another 14 banks left to be tested so there’ll be a lot of fingernail clippings in the waste-bins of those MDs.

A Nigerian newspaper disclosed that there were hints of further shake-ups in the banking industry. Customers and bankers alike are all kind of anxious to know what other possible ‘executions’ lie in wait. I’m more interested in knowing whether Sanusi will eventually end this never-ending deposit mobilization drive aka corporate begging – which pretty much entails bankers who run around the streets literally begging customers to open accounts with them and/or fund the accounts.  Such bankers (or ‘marketers’) have been taunted by their immediate bosses to get funds in at all costs. Marketers are losing sleep, falling ill, working late, paying money to cover shortfalls in promises of ridiculously high interest rates, snatching accounts from within their bank’s network, etc all in a bid to beat the pressure and stay in the job.

Sanusi may be our last hope. He appears not to be worried about taking difficult decsions and he seems to want to get Nigeria back into full gear – he just injected N400billion to jumpstart the economy. The audacious CBN governor is akin to a Nigerian Harry Potter who has succeeded in proving that he has a few tricks up his sleeve…and by the look of things, he’s just getting warmed up…

Senior High – 1st year

As the principal of International School Ibadan announced that the JSCE (Junior Secondary School Examination) results would be posted up in front of her office I felt nauseous. I wasn’t sure if it was bad luck to have already gotten trouser measurements done at my local tailor before the exam results were released. What if I didn’t make it through? My trousers would be bloody useless and I’d have to endure another year in I.S.I wearing a pair of A.H.Is (AssHole Irritants).  Girls had no problem because their blue-white striped dress/uniform didn’t have to look any different from junior to senior year. Thankfully I breathed a sigh of relief as I attained 2A’s and 5C in my 8subjects (I’m not mentioning what I got in Yoruba language). I vaguely remember jumping up and down like a deranged rottweiler that had a piece of meat dangled over its head. I proceeded to run into the nearby open field with fellow classmates who also sailed through the exams. We ran like we were being chased by… Rottweilers. I almost failed to take notice of the few guys whom we left behind moping at their inadequate grades and therefore bore long faces (okay, not like Rottweilers…more like Dobermen!)

Of course this next chapter in my school life called for a celebration. I took it upon myself to have a small get-together for my ‘Class of 1993’. Unfortunately I didn’t have an much more than the Naira equivalent of £10 back then which could just barely cater for about 20-30 guests max (I must have been nuts!). I invited 25 schoolmates to my cousin’s crib where I resided, about 60 eventually showed up and filled up almost every part of the house! I soon quickly realised that 48 bottled drinks (2 crates) would not quite cut the ‘3:1 guzzling ratio’ of my invitees. The 2 small coolers of cooked rice and chicken didn’t go round because I didnt plan for the following: Boarder boys and girls sneakings out of their hostels; Geeks/Nerds/Bookworms/Efikos gate crashing; and schoolmates from the set below mine (JSS3) also taking advantage of the fact that I did not have a bouncer to ‘man the door’. So I had geeks playing video games in the TV room, boarder girl escapees changing clothes in my cousin’s bedroom, boarder boys slow-dancing with girls in the living room whilst my Aunt was within the house. There was no DJ but just one raga tape being put on the loop courtesy of all the horny boys hoping to literally tap some ass from a slowdance. The 5kg cake and 2 tubs of ice-cream I had planned for dessert was not going to be able to feed THIS multitude. This wasn’t a get-together…this was a get-together-everybody-who-heard-about-this-party. I mean some of the guests there didnt even know my name or the fact that I was hosting this fiasco. To make matters worse, the girl I had a crush on was busy slowdancing with some guy I didnt even invite, Meanwhile I was busy trying to feed the hungry, entertain the bored, and save my shaky reputation all at the same time. I was glad when it was all over, to say the least. The house  survived with 2 shattered drinking glasses and a broken window lever. I on the other hand remained intact!

In an amazing twist of fate, I was hailed by the majority of my set for making a noble effort at throwing a shindig (which  I’d rather remember as a ‘shit-dig’). The geeks were even more grateful because they knew that they may never gain such easy access into a party again. I somehow became everybody’s pal…the one who didn’t discriminate…the one who didn’t stop the music and shout “ALL BOYS OUT!” and proceeded to reveal a list of boys who were not given the fake invitation cards…no, I wasn’t seen as cruel…I was Mr.Nice guy Subsequent parties got better and better (no thanks to me). I do remember one guy who threw a party but would have sooner thrown himself over a bridge after only 1 girl turned up amidst a house filled with over 15guys…a case of bad advertising? Well, the grub didn’t go to waste.

Ah yes, those grey trousers really were worth the 3 year-wait. I was ‘toasting’ girls a one class year or two below me and feeling pretty cool with my skinny self. I was later appointed by my principal as the school’s Health Prefect, though for the love of God I never found out what a health prefect was nor did I know what my responsibilities were supposed to be. I just made sure the sick bay was hygenic and wasn’t congested or saturated with students who were feigning illness. I was given a badge which I wore proudly like a sheriff. If only I went guns blazing a little less when it came to asking a girl, ‘Will you go out with me?…’

Entry #42 – One man’s trash…

prism…is another man’s treasure? Well I’ve got a Nokia 7900 Prism that says ‘NO!’ – thats if you want to keep beating the life out of it everytime it freezes when a message comes through it. I can vaguely remember how I strolled into the Nokia shop barely a year ago, coughed out N70,000 (which is over £200 or over $300) and was one of the ‘privileged’ few to be pouncing around town with a phone which got quite a lot of  ‘Ooh! Nice phone!’, ‘It’s unique!’, ‘I haven’t seen this before!’, (Hindsight – thanks to you gawkers I didnt return the phone sooner to get a refund).

It was as slim as kate moss, black as Whoopi’s lips, had more colour theme choices than Amy Winehouse’s make-up artist (oops, I forgot she does it herself), and boasted more tricks than Harry Potter’s wand. Well I was tricked alright.  I was tricked into thinking an engraved Aluminium casing was mega cool. For N70,000 I should be getting at least Titanium, shouldn’t I? For N70,000 I should be getting not just 1GB of built-in memory but 3GB! For 70,000 bleeping Naira I should be getting more than a 2 mega-pixel camera, FM radio and bluetooth – bluetooth! What genius came up with THAT term? The next pushy salesperson that offers me a ‘BLUETOOTH’ will get a ‘BLACKEYE’.

I will not be ripped off again (Aaaaargh!!!) I shall not succumb to the…oh my…could it be? Could Nokia be entrancing me yet again with a nonsenical technological blunder utterly unworthy to be categorized as a cutting-edge mobile phone? Its so slick…stylish…kinky…qwerty…look at it slide…the screen is huge…how much is it? How much? I think I’m falling for the E75…shh, I just can’t help it. I hate you Nokia…making me spend my money…and in 8months I know this’ll be trash too…but for 11years now when has that ever stopped me 🙂

Entry #41 – Coming to Nigeria

nigeriaWhy would you be crazy enough to come to Nigeria? I mean just look at that crazy colour scheme on all those unnecessary number of states (currently 36 when 12 would do!). I see popular searches like ‘relocate to nigeria’ being used to get to this site and I can only wonder ‘What’s chasing them?’ Well I can tell you that Lagos (the former capital of Nigeria where I reside) is like a metropolis – commercial and bursting with business. It is increasingly becoming cosmopolitan too, with Brits, Asians, Chinese, South Africans and Americans on the scene. I’d say Lagos is like New York but with a lot more black people and a hell of a lot more poor people. Sure we’ve got that minority who are stupendously rich. Then we’ve got the majority who are stupendously poor. Then you’ve got people in the middle of this spectrum…people like me…who persist in applying the principles of becoming rich but end up feeling stupendously…stupid. Anyway, there have been a number of job cuts since the recession first surfaced the newspapers but now there are recent cases of pay cuts. Banks are not so willing to lend to customers who may sometimes even have collateral which triples the requested loan amount. Electricity supply has gone from fluctuating to weak to virtually non-existent in the last few months. Owning or renting a generator is a must. You will need a car to get around town, a Nigerian guide who has lived here for at least 10years, a dose of anti-malaria drugs, light clothing (not too warm), and a valid form of identification on you at all times (e.g. driver’s licence, passport or national ID card). Get acquainted with some of the local lingo so that you don’t stand out like a sore thumb. If you can’t fake a typical Nigerian accent (which sounds like a fatigued loud-mouth whose been woken out of a deep sleep at 3am, pretty much) then try not to sound like a JJC (Johnny Just Come) or you will get duped sooner or later. Get a mobile phone and start with any of the pay-as-you-go packages – all the networks are just as good (and bad) as each other. When in doubt, don’t ask a crazy Nigerian a.k.a mad man for any assistance. He could flip you over a bridge or push you into high-speed traffic or something. There are so many crazy Nigerians out there – I’m the real McCoy 🙂

See my ‘Survival Kit’ for more info

Entry #40 – Recess is over but the Recession continues

recession21.37pm – As I sit here in this corporate prison, choked by my own Finelli necktie and nauseated by this cologne that I use predominantly for this ‘Five to Nine’ (No typo – I wake up 5am and get back by 9pm), I already dread the impending road congestion parade and the utter disregard of the highway code by notorious ‘motorpsycholists’ (Again, no typo).

I begin to analyze the principle of Cause and Effect with relevance to the current state of economic affairs. Most Nigerian banks have been exposed to risk by careless lending (Cause) which may potentially lead to colossal money losses (Effect). Some banks go on a defensive and start to cut their ‘losses’ by cutting jobs. Cutting jobs leads to lowered morale within the retained workforce, but jobhunting and high blood pressure for the booted. Jobhunting for 1month = Anticipation. Jobhunting for 2-3months = Frustration. Jobhunting for 4-6months = Desperation. Jobhunting for over 6-8months =  (Possible) Suicide contemplation. Jobhunting for 8-10months = Partial transformation to Schemer/Scammer. Jobhunting for over 1year = Complete transformation to Schemer/Scammer.

Everyday you are thankful that  you still have a job…a reason to get dressed in the morning…a reason to smile at the end of each month. The hard-hitting reality is a pill too bitter to swallow – the Recession is the new stealth virus whose only close rival is Swine flu. But the Recession doesn’t just stop at cutting jobs, deteriorating health and inducing paranoia about job security. It goes on to have an adverse effect on the economy. With the rise in unemployment comes the surge in crime and there are bound to be casualties.

Alas, my lunch break is over. I see my work before me and the ghost of Recession hovering in the distance with a dark cloak and a razor-sharp sickle. It is ready to harvest jobs but I am not ready to yield it any fruit. I am armed with my product knowledge, I.T and Marketing skills, an excellent appraisal, and a prayer. I must remain relevant in the system to avoid being weeded out. I must avoid the weeds around me who harbor toxic attiitudes. I will not be choked up. I will loosen my Finelli necktie and switch to another cologne. I will take control of my destiny, look the 8-foot Grim Recession Reaper in the eye and say, “You want my job? You’re going to have to get past me first!”

Entry #38 – Feeling peckish

Earlier today I was just craving for a bit of toast, which I dont eat regularly. And I suddenly had a flashback to the early 80s when I heard this peculiar song by Streetband (A UK group). The song is kinda irritating now when I hear it but as a kid it made me laugh for whatever reason beknown to me. Was it the way the lead singer, Paul Young, was just chatting away throughout the song, the cheesy chorus, the crunching sounds of someone biting through toast or was it just the monologue-rap with the corny beat and the silly sound effects…wait, I think I hear the kettle boiling! Well, I’m going to share this excruciating audio experience with you, my inquisitive readers. Get your butter knives out and lets make…

Entry #37 – My affair with 4 women

lipsWomen – a mystery to some, a weakness to many (men and lesbians, that is). I too have fallen prey to the clutches of the female species. I vaguely remember one particular woman who locked me down for about 9months. I felt trapped. I wanted to break free but at the same time I wanted to stay. I was so confused that I had to have a third party separate us. I actually cried my eyes out but today we’re still in touch and on good terms.

The second woman whose birthday was on 27th June (so if you’re reading this, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!) was one whom I shared a Mr. & Mrs. Smith relationship with…literally. On one occasion she chased me round the house with an 8-inch kitchen knife – she couldn’t catch me though (phew!). We have an understanding now and we’ve learned to keep our distance – I’m in Nigeria, she’s in Great Britain…

The third woman who messed with my mind was like a brother to me…the brother I never had…actually, I wished she was a boy…okay I know how that can confuse you right now. You probably wondering, ‘…but I thought he liked women!’ I do…and I’m not bisexual either. Let me break it down: 1st woman – My mother; 2nd woman – my junior sister; 3rd woman – my baby sister.

Yes, my ‘affairs’ with all these women still continues and I’m not done yet. I mentioned ‘4 women’ in my post title. Well in 2010 the fourth woman I deeply love will be the one I’ll spend the rest of my life with…God willing 🙂

Entry #36 – Gone too soon

mjThis pic is the way I remembered Michael Jackson as a child and will always remember him. He’s the reason why I would sing or hum a tune in the shower every morning. He’s the reason why I still keep pairs of trousers that have outgrown me. He’s the reason why I body-pop whenever I’m in front of a mirror (alone). He’s the reason why I moonwalk whenever I’m on a slippery surface (again, alone). He’s the reason why most of the CDs in my car don’t get as much airplay on a daily basis. He’s the reason I’ve become a fan of Usher, Chris Brown, Ginuwine, Sisco and Justin Timberlake. He’s the reason I have a romantic, imaginative and sensitive side. He’s the reason I’m writing this impromptu post at 6am in the morning even though I should be getting ready for work. He’s probably the reason why it’s been raining non stop since 4am this morning…and perhaps the reason why it still looks dark outside. He’s the reason why the world is in mourning today. His performances were electrifying and his legacy is unprecedented. For this and generations to come he is a music legend, a dancing maestro, a philanthropist, an icon of our time. He is and will always be remembered as the KING OF POP. Michael, I salute you…I miss you…and I’ll see you Neverland… 😦

R.I.P Michael J. Jackson (1958-2009)

Entry #35 – Every second counts

save meI was going to post something else but just 3hrs ago I saw such a powerful video on my cable TV. It was one by the rock band Nickelback entitled ‘Saving Me’. At first you think its just any other video but as the story unfolds you start to see just how clever the concept of the video is. Now, I’m not going to spoil this for those of you who haven’t seen it. But what if life today was similar to how it was depicted in this video? There would be a whole new sense of purpose…A constant search for the truth…A new connection with the people who surround you…A desperation to make every second count…

What I’d give to see one of those ‘Second Counters’ over Robert Mugabe’s head…I’m just curious 🙂

Enjoy the video!

Entry #34 – Homewreckers

fingerLadies and Gentlemen, an invasion is upon us! In the 21st century a new evil has befallen planet earth. The shape-shifting creatures of the damned lurk into your very households whilst you watch the news, sip your tea, and  pick your nose. These venemous scum leach unto the married couples of our time and cause havoc and destruction in a systemmatic manner. They are more commonly known as… Homewreckers

So how do you know if you’ve been stung by a homewrecker? When she notices a hotel receipt in his jacket and she hasn’t been to one with him…ever. When he stumbles across his wife’s missing earring by the couch in his best friend’s apartment. When she looks through his mobile phone and she reads the text/SMS, ‘I can’t wait to see you again.Same time tomorrow?’ 

Maybe that’s all a bit too obvious. What about bad drinking habits, gambling, drug addiction, Job loss, Ponzi schemes and hard earned stocks & investments taking a nose dive? What about family ties? Blood is thicker than water, right? What if your mother-in-law (who’s a pain-in-the-neck) comes to live with you? ‘NO WAY!’ I hear you say? What if your partner doesn’t want you to put her in an old people’s home? What then?

But I guess the most deceptive and destructive of all the Homewreckers is the Internet…and the blogworld plays a massive part alongside Facebook, Ebay and Free Porn. Guys who spend more time clicking the mouse than kissing the spouse soon become victims of a home about to be bulldozed, metaphorically speaking.

CrazyNigerian’s Final Thought: Fellow bloggers, if you have a partner then spend less time blogging. And if you don’t have a partner…spend less time blogging 🙂

Entry #32 – Mouth to mouth

mouth2mouthWhat’s in a kiss? Saliva? Sure! That’s if it’s a wet kiss. But if your partner has gum problems or uses a very soft toothbrush then there’s probably some blood to go with that saliva (Urgh!). If you’ve just had dinner before that kiss then there’s probably a whole bunch of food particles swimming through a bloody saliva stream all the way down your oesophagus (okay, stay with me here). If your partner has protruding teeth then there are probably some braces to go with that slimy blood pool. Thinking about dry-kissing instead, eh? I don’t blame you.

I for one like to think that I’m a smooth kisser…you know, those sedative-type kisses that leave lips numbed to sleep. I believe a perfect kiss should be timed, literally. A kiss that lasts for 2 seconds is way too short and a kiss that lasts for 20secs can quickly become a drooling grueling task of endurance (c’mon, that’s a lot of bloody plaque saliva/exchange).

Anything between 10 and 15secs is ideal. With practice anyone can time a kiss…kinda like knowing your body-clock – you just instinctively know when to wake up sometimes. Tongue kissing should ALWAYS be avoided in the morning…yes, even if you’ve brushed the night before, downed a bottle of Listerine, chewed a pack of Wrigleys Extra and recently became the face of Macleans ads.

If your mouth is closed for over 5hrs after all that I’m willing to bet that your breath isn’t exactly a trip to the Alps (unless you sleep with your mouth open…but I’d be worried about what could crawl in). And the next time you save someone from drowning and you need to give him or her mouth-to-mouth please don’t stick your tongue in…that’s a tongue-in-cheek moment if I’ve ever heard of one 😉

Entry #30 – Rumour has it…

bridge2that there was a madman on Third Mainland Bridge in Lagos who kept shouting to himself everyday. He was shouting out the number ‘Thirteen!’ repeatedly. Motorists used to drive past him but one curious passenger asked a driver in the bus to stop so he could ask the madman what he was shouting ‘Thirteen’ all day for. The driver obliged and parked to one side of the bridge. The passenger got down and approached the madman with caution but he kept some distance. He asked the madman, ‘Why are you shouting Thirteen?’ The madman stopped shouting and politely answered to the passenger’s surprise, ‘It’s a secret but come and I will tell you.’ The passenger saw no harm in this and was anxious to finally unravel this mystery once and for all.

 

The bus driver and the other passengers looked on in horror as they suddenly saw the madman strugggle with the stray passenger before flinging him over the bridge into the ocean. As soon as he he did that he started shouting ‘Fourteen! Fourteen! Fourteen!’ 🙂

Entry #29 – Poker face

poker-dad_ThumbI went gaga over her but who wouldn’t! She’s like a  Christiana Aguilera but only sexier. But what’s with that song…so catchy…kinky yet satisfying. Poker face? What would a poker face look like? I’ve got this image of a face made out of cards or one in the shape of a heart (alien), spade (conehead), diamond (Kate Moss) or…a club (now that one would look downrightshamrock scary). Anyway, when I first heard the song I thought she was saying poke-her-face! It even got more saucy when she went ‘p-p-p-poke her face, p-p-p-poker her face, mum mum mum ma – What! now you want your mum to do it! Oh boy. And then I thought ‘How vulgar!’ Poke her face with what? Definitely not lipgloss. I like the way the expression gets you thinking…I mean, if someone you offended suddenly snapped and called you Poker face then I don’t think you’d be thanking ’em for the compliment. On the other hand, if you play poker then you’d probably just think the expression is a kind of face you find difficult to read or intepret. Hmm…it just occurred to me that the lizard in my header for this page has a poker face that is pretty confusing. I think he’s happy 😀

Entry #26 – Man U, 0-2, boo hoo!

I’m not a biased sports commentator nor am I a Barcelona fanatic on a trouble-finding mission, but I must say that I was quite busy sending commiseration text messages (I wasn’t rubbing it in, honest). I just wanted them to know that they had a shoulder to cry on. But its a harsh reality that in every competition, in every battle, there’s a winner and a loser. There’s just no two ways about it. What amuses me is the way some of the football players ‘cross their hearts’ before the match – Is that to say that they were praying that their side wins? What about if the opponents crossed their hearts too? Shouldn’t they have a fair chance of winning too? As a matter of fact, what does crossing the heart really symbolize anyway? Protection from demons? (Yeah, the opponents). Or could it be protection from a loss to their opponents. Either way I don’t think God intervenes, though I’m pretty sure He knew the result way before Eve offered Adam that dodgy apple.

There’s always a winner and a loser. Even when there’s a tie in a match, it always has to end in a sudden death situation and then the dreaded penalty shoot out. Why bother? Because two teams cant share one trophy, thats why. Two rival fan clubs cant walk hand-in-hand singing a combined ManU-Barcelona footie anthem. Its like the sci-fi movie Highlander – there can only be one.

So the next time you’re thinking , ‘Winner vs Loser’ think Obama vs McCain, Kanye West vs 50cent, Osama Bin Laden vs George W. Bush, Sober judge vs O.J Simpson, ‘Traumatized’ teenager vs Michael Jackson, Angelina Jolie vs Jennifer Aniston, Federline vs Britney Spears, The People vs Larry Flint, Ned Flanders vs Homer Simpson, Agent Smith(s) vs NEO aka The One, Nigerian, Interrupted vs … 🙂

Entry 25 – Wisecracks

I’ve just had one of those days where pretty much everything I heard, saw or felt could be linked to the word ‘shit’. On my way to work for instance, I was driving with a sore head and a runny nose so I obviously felt like shit. I was caught up in a stretch of road traffic partly caused by a diversion plus traffic caused by panick buying of petrol amidst scarcity scares. By the time I arrived, I looked at my watch and saw I was 30mins late and I simultaneously uttered, ‘Shit!’. The meeting I had with my boss and my marketing team was also pretty shit. We didn’t rake in a lot of funds today and couldn’t stop some customers from withdrawing huge sums for their personal use. It was like being at a Spanish Inquisition. As my boss went from questioning one marketer to another I couldn’t help but think that he also had the word, ‘shit’ on his mind – why wouldn’t I think so when he kept going to each person, ‘…so, what came out from your end today?’ ; )

…Shit ending wasn’t it? C’est la vie!

Entry #23 – Aaachoo!!!

All this who-ha about swine flu. Has anyone asked how this came about in the first place? Did a farmer accidentally ingest the mucus of a sick pig after it sneezed without a hanky? Did some twisted nymphomaniac with an animal fetish get too intimate with a pig and develop a brand new H1N1 virus? I’ve heard it all and the names just keep getting more and more ridiculous – Chicken Pox, Mad cow disease, Bird Flu/Avian flu and now Swine flu. What next? Iguana flu? Why don’t we take it upon ourselves to keep the vicinity of these animals clean and thus protect them and ourselves? Why don’t pig farmers take a cue from the American SWAT team – the moment you see a pig so much as sniffle you put a bullet through its head and incenerate it with a flame gun. And if you must eat the damned swine then make sure that bacon is fried till its dry and crispy – that medium-rare/bloody/pink-thing is not posh anymore (its a downright stupid ploy that tricks you into thinking eating raw meat is okay – and that also goes for sushi!) Look, I love bacon just as much as the next guy so whilst farmers are culling ‘sick’ pigs I would like to appeal that the carcasses are shipped to Nigeria  – thats way too much barbeque meat to waste 🙂

Entry #22 – An epiphany

On the 5th of April 2009 I had a ‘moment of clarity’ – no, I wasn’t recovering from a late-night alcohol binge. It just suddenly hit me – I want to achieve a couple of things by the time I’m 30. With each passing day I have this urge to determine how well I’ve utilized my time and how I can plan better for the next. Each day has become ‘compartmentilized’ such that every hour can be accounted for – including the no. of hours I sleep. It therefore seems like no coincidence when exactly a week later (12th of April) a friend of my aunt gave me an inspirational book comically titled, ‘How To Ruin Your Life by 40’ by Steve Farrah. What an eye-opener! I think everyone whose still in their twenties should must read this (or something like this) before you wake up one day and realize you haven’t achieved much with your life at all…scary thought isn’t it?

Entry #21 – The Glove Compartment

…Sounds like a cool title to a blockbuster thriller, doesn’t it? But seriously, who the hell came up with the term anyway? I have gone through about 10 glove compartments in random cars of my friends and not once did I find a pair of gloves in there. Instead all I got was a ‘What are you looking for?’ Amongst the things I actually found in those compartments included: vehicle particulars, CDs, torch lights, AA batteries, receipts, flyers, car chargers, cameras, condoms (well, just in one of the compartments), pens and sporks (spoony forks/forky spoons).  

Thats it I’m afraid. I don’t have any story about a gun I found in a glove compartment or a severed finger I discovered in the glove compartment. I think  all car manufacturers should throw in free driving gloves as an add-on when buying a new car – at least then I’d be able to make appropriate use of the damn compartment 😀