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The Loner


Hello, people of the world which is about to end.

Surprised at my entry? I’m sure most of us would have heard the gist by now that our dear and sweet planet earth will be imploding on the 21st of this month. i hope you guys are preparing to meet your maker.

well, before that time, we have 16 more days to update our blogs, and have as much fun as we like while doing so. so let’s enjoy this piece called The Loner. if you didn’t enjoy it…you’re free to sue me.

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The world has abandoned me. No one cares anymore.

They all hate me. They despise me.

They treat me like a plague.

I have no meaning, no importance amongst them.

They all go about their daily lives…oblivious to my existence.

It is as if i am wearing an invisibility cloak, like the type worn by Harry Porter.

But his could be removed…while mine cannot.

Nobody cares about me…I have no Father, or Mother.

Nor brother, or sister.

No lover. No friend.

Just one lone soul existing upon the face of the earth.

I was born alone, and yes… I will die alone.

I will be buried alone. I cannot share my coffin with another body.

I cannot share my being with any other.

They all are enemies to me.

They all hate me, and i hate them in return.

I loathe their existence.

I wish for them to suffer…

Even much worse pain than this one that engulfs me from within

I want to see their tears…

As they wail, and weep… and gnash their teeth

All these years, i have suffered in silence.

I have been abandoned since birth,

And left to face the wrath of the world all by myself.

No one to care, or to show me love.

I have heard of that feeling…

But my soul is an alien to its meaning.

I am void. Empty.

Yet i am filled with darkness, and hatred, and fear…

Fear… that a day will come,

when I will no longer exist as a being.

And my spirit will wander… to the ends of the earth

In search of true companionship

But will find none… still.

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this sad piece was written by @ManickaL

SEX WITH MY FATHER


Good Evening y’all.
Today I have brought this beautiful post from a Friend. (Thank You Kaycee) Its been around for a while but I have been having problems with my wireless network. Btw…………… I need an editor oh, apply on twitter if you are interested; I have a lot of unfinished work. Thank You. Lets go.
Tape rolling…. Action
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I didn’t cry. It was painful what he did, but I didn’t cry. He said it was ok.

I didn’t cry the second time either. I liked it. He was gentler. He told me it was our secret, our special thing, and no one should know about it.

I went to him the third time it happened, it was raining and the thunders scared me. We did it again, I enjoyed it. We began to do it more often, and each time I enjoyed it more.

I was twelve that first time, and a happy child, happier than any other child I knew. I doubt if any other child had so much love. I was my father’s lover and he was mine. Everything was perfect.

And then, on my twentieth birthday, the unthinkable happened.

My father broke up with me. Just like that. He said it wasn’t right, what we do, and that we must stop. End of matter. It felt like a full stop at the end of an epitaph. It was too sudden.

I had no warning, no premonition. The break up was like death. I had taken the week off from school just to be with the only man in my life, the best man I ever knew, or so I thought. I thought my birthday would have ended sensually, like all the others. It was usually the best birthday present he gives me, a passionate night of love making right out of a romance novel.

It had been a while. My higher education had taken me away. And I sorely missed my beloved father. I went home that day with thoughts of my father obscuring all other thoughts. I arrived late in the evening. He wasn’t home yet. I made myself as adorable as he liked. It was not hard. My allure had never needed much artificial furnishings; a touch here and a touch there, and I would be set to win any beauty contest. That evening I was at my best.

All my preparations and quivering anticipation was to have ended in bliss, the kind only my father could give me.

Instead, I got the shock of my life. That terrible day, I knew exactly how the Deer must feel when the hunter’s bullet crashes through its heart. I learnt how it must feel to be shot out of the sky.

I had hoped he didn’t mean it, that this was just another punishment, but the way he said it convinced me it was final. I knew my father; I knew the look on his face. It was the same look he had when he shot Dragon our Alsatian. This was not like before when he would refuse to touch me because I misbehaved. My father had never hit me or scolded me; his punishments were usually more severe and silent. He would simply refuse to touch me for days on end. Such days were hell for me. I could barely survive without him. When he was pleased with me, he really would take his time and give me much pleasure that I never knew was possible.

I was a very well behaved child; I had all the proper manners for a proper lady. Thanks to my father.

But this was no punishment. This was a cessation. This was my death. I tried to make him see reason, to convince him that we were to be forever. I told him of our joys, our laughs and how love couldn’t be any better. I begged him not to kill his beloved and only child.

The man was like a stone.

It is true what they say. Men are beasts; unfeeling beasts.

How could he end something so wonderful, something so perfect? He said he still loved me, but I didn’t believe him, I couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t even look me in the eye when he said it. There must have been a reason, but I didn’t care for whatever it was. I knew it wasn’t about right or wrong, there is no love that can be wrong, especially the kind we had. It was beautiful; we were one, my father and I. Our love transcended that of a father and his daughter. It was the stuff of heaven. No, His reason wasn’t religious, not at all, my father wasn’t that sentimental. I was his sole religion, he worshiped me.

There was no one else either, I knew that much. My mother died while birthing me. Ever since, I had been my father’s heartbeat. And he was my breath. I never missed my mother. I never knew her, never would meet her. I would, perhaps, have liked to know her, but somehow I thank God she wasn’t with us. It would have been awkward. I don’t think I could have shared my father with any one.

My father gave no reason for killing me. He couldn’t explain why we could no longer have what we had. There was nothing I didn’t think, there was no thought I didn’t wish to explain his decision by. Something, perhaps, must have happened to his hormones. I couldn’t believe this was my perfect father. I couldn’t believe my day could ever become so dark.

He only said he was doing it for me, that it was for the best, my best. How could I have ever believed the man loved me? He even looked sad that day, so sorrowful and tired. In better times and in our previous world, I would have taken him in my arms as I was wont, and work my magic on him. Over the years I had learnt his special recipe. I was the only one who knew his mix. I had never asked him, but I sensed that even my mother didn’t take him to the heights I took him.

But his words belied the sorrow on his features. He had said the break up words so casually, so matter of factly, as if he had thought it through and found it a simple matter. There should be a special kind of voice and words for pronouncements of that nature, something equal and suitably terrible. The normalcy and casualness of his words were a negation. It was like mockery. I didn’t know I could ever stop being what I was to him; I had never thought our relationship would end. But end it did, and in so shocking a manner. Good things shouldn’t end that abruptly. Relationships don’t die at once. Death is not a casual occurrence.

The most painful part of it was that I didn’t die. I felt like dying. I wanted to die. But I didn’t know how to go about it. I should have killed him too; I should have hurt him too. He looked like he was hurting, but I should have made sure. It is too painful to feel the pain of death and yet be alive. There is no pain worse than the pain of death.

And then, the man wanted us to be Father and Daughter, just father and daughter. I couldn’t understand why he would want to reduce our love to something merely biological and normal. Why on earth couldn’t he see that I could never be happy as just his daughter, and that I could never be remotely happy with any other arrangement? We were happy, I made him happy. Why do some people reject their own happiness?

For a long time I had believed my father loved me. On my twentiethbirthday, I knew the truth. That day was my awakening to the heartlessness of men, and the absurdity of love. That day, I grew up, I grew old and I died.

It was the last day I spoke or saw my father. He killed me, so I made sure I remained dead to him. I became a living dead, dead inside and alive only in looks.

As I left him that evening, I looked back a lot of times. He didn’t recant, he didn’t rethink. He watched me leave. The tears were streaming from both our eyelids. I could feel his sorrow; it was thick enough to touch. The feeling was apt; death had occurred.

The man came for me twice, later. But he came as a father coming for his daughter. He should have come for me as a soul for its soul mate, like breath for air, like the dying for life. That was what we were; romance and its love.

He came, just that twice. I waited for him too, but he never came again. I gave up.

I made a new resolve. Men would learn from me, the very hard way. I have what they want. My beauty is the glaring kind that every body agrees with. But my heart would be a different matter. I knew most men wouldn’t resist me; they can’t be as tough as my father, my looks were not enough for that man to change his mind and do the right thing, the best thing.

It wasn’t easy. It took a while before I could stand the touch of any other man, but vengeance helped me detach my body from myself.

I would forever be grateful for my looks; it was my ultimate shield. It helped me survive and helped my resolve. I set off on a mission, to hurt as I had been hurt. I soon became very successful. I brought both boys and men to their knees. I killed them and still left them alive. I remember the families that fought themselves over me, the brothers that would never forgive each other, the scandalized churches and governments, the suicides, the bankruptcies. There is a lot a body can do when it is rightly motivated.

My father didn’t know what he unleashed.

Payback is a beautiful side of nature. There is no payback as sweet and profound as when it’s total and final, like death. No man recovered that encountered me.

But vengeance was not so much fun. I didn’t feel any lasting relief. Hurting men didn’t make me feel much better; it was a constant reminder to my own heartbreak. But I couldn’t stop. Sometimes I wondered what the whole point was. I could never lose the pangs I had for my father’s touch. Payback did not completely fill the chasm that my father dug in me. I doubt if anything ever would.

I would have easily given everything up for things to get back to what it was.

I lived like someone on a mission, and I wanted to be free from the service, but I just couldn’t. In moments of weakness, I would always think about what my father and I had. Thinking about our perfect love brought me tears and gave me joy. At such moments, I would really try to feel and have fun, I would let my guard down to see if I would be alive again. It was no use. No other man was like my father. No one even came close. No one was able to get me right, something was always missing. With my dad it was perfect, he knew just what I wanted, and how. No two people were ever in sync as my father and I was. No other man could bring me alive.

The last time I had pleasure was with my father.

This many years have past, since I lost my beloved father. And more recently the world lost him too. I just left his grave side. I have never been able to understand why I keep visiting his grave, despite the distance, despite all. And each time, I always leave with an exhausting longing, a fiery desire, and an intense craving.

I would do anything; anything, just to have sex with my father again.

UNIMPORTANT


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Well, everybody obviously here we are again. To read another article. Hi, my name is Nma or LaChica Bonita if you wish. I have a little something from @alcoholhero. I hope you enjoy it, although that will certainly do no one good.

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*Crack* Chews boiled groundnut and discards pod… *crack* *crack* oh someone is here? Can y’all just pause till I finish the groundnut, its only 4cups…. No? Okay… 

 

*clears throat* *Cleans Mouth* *drinks water* Errr sorry that’s usually my pre-speech ritual. My friend here asked me to help her with this blog and being her Dark Knight *dodges shoe* am here to her res…*dodges bag* ..cue. Here Goes

 

*clears throat*

 

When I was young there were a lot of things wrong but stupidity of the General public wasn’t one of them. *this is no cool story* A lot of things has gone wrong with the society now, and am not here to Judge no one, (with the exception of Charley Boy the Area Father and his Nude Pics) but of all the avenues for an exhibition of stupidity which we also call “Social Media” no one has beat the gross stupidity, and cantankerous foolishness that BC’s has offered in the past 3years since the popularity of blackberries. BC in this case does not mean “Before Christ” as it originally meant before 2009… It means the utter uselessness of “Broadcast Message” which was very well supposed to be BM. (Why it picked up the acronym BC? ¯\..(•͡.̮ •͡ )../¯).

 

 As much as the broadcast message enables you dissipate information at the snap of your finger tips whether on BBM or whatsapp, it also provides an avenue for you to share your stupidity in the blink of an eye and I trust my generation to make good use of it in this area *hot purple tears*. 

Oh well for those of you that don’t have Blackberry’s on here or don’t use whatsapp, you definitely would have gotten a text message that said “pass this on” to save a life, break a curse, help a blind man see, turn water to wine, fly into the sky or stand the chance to win one million naira or any of that gibberish yep and like we all know, they never worked. You obviously know what am talking about then.

 

Some months back, I received one of those chain messages that said “blah blah blah, don’t have anything red on you or you will die”. I took a quick pop to my wardrobe and burnt the only red shirt I had (*red tears this time around* (۳º̩̩́_º̩̩̀)۳ ). Then I looked around and realised my curtains were red, and that might mean my house would collapse so I pulled down my curtains… There, just as I was about to feel accomplished like a boss I remembered my blood is red. Dilemma: should I now commit suicide or drink jik to bleach the blood?  

I just don’t get it, the annoying part of it is that okay we agree the composer of the BC is stupid, but do you also have to be part of the stupid train by forwarding it? It baffles me. 

Then there was the one that was sent to me on mothers day and as usual it was “blah blah blah send this to 10people and watch blessings embarrass your mother, do not break the chain or else you will watch your mother suffer” I immediately pinged the STUPID person that sent it and Told her “awww my baby, may Amadioha strike you and your BB, and may Ogun carry you in his arms to the depths of Hell. There is a common saying: “When purpose is not known, abuse is inevitable”, a typical example of what happens everyday. 

 

Next on my list is Twitter, *cracks groundnut* (err sorry I couldn’t resist, its not easy getting into a staring contest with groundnut, I always loose)………………………………..(._. )…………( ._.)…………..( ._. )…..(‘-‘ )…….*cracks groundnut* 

 

The reigning social network right. You prolly may be among the ones that don’t like it cause its a little to complex with all the #harshtags, @handles, TT’s, FOLLOWERS, abbreviations and blah blah blah, oh well the only thing I would say to you is may your eyes be opened. 

As interesting and time wasting as it can be, i trust my generation to make the most stupidity out of it, I wouldn’t even want to go in to the details of how a Twubby (Twitter Husband) and Twifey (Twitter Wife) will have twisex(Twitter Sex) and give birth to a twichild get in a Twitfyt, then get in twitjail and then get a divorce and end up BLOCKED… Happy Ending!!! 

That’s not as bad as it gets tho the worst of all is the part that people actually buy followers (for those who don’t know, on twitter we are all Evangelists so we have followers). Now how you would actually starve to buy followers over a social network that you get no pay for it just beats me… If there is anything stupider than that on this Earth then… Yet again I wouldn’t be surprised. Like basically you buy followers to get you upto 10000 followers and then in your mind that works as a naïve as that of a Piglet you attain the status of a twit-celeb *deep sigh* I hope one hacker humbly hacks your account and screws you.

 

Maybe I should quit my ranting here, and I would like to end with this quote 

 

“Only two things are infinite, The Universe and Human stupidity and am not sure about the former” – Albert Einstein 

 

*cracks groundnut*

 

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Hey y’all No pun intended. ┐(‘⌣’┐) (┌’⌣’)┌ ƪ(˘⌣˘)┐ ┌(˘.˘)ʃ I enjoyed the read.

REBOUND


Hola Readers…

I have returned, how is everybody. Missed me? No? Okay, I don’t care. Lets proceed.

 

Today is a great day, really. Because I decided to write something that has never been written before, straight from the tips of my fingers. See… as I pour black ink over this white page I want you all to know that, from the bottom of my heart I am genuinely not sorry for not writing anything here for  a long time. I have been doing a lot of stuff, A lot. Including sleeping and adding weight. I have been doing a lot of thinking too. But I missed me writing here. Also, I have changed… and I wont explain.

   I have been considering a challenge, but I realized that real heroes don’t need to prove to their readers that they can overcome a self-set challenge. So I came up with a new task; Delegation, and more Delegation’. I’ve decided never to do any stuff someone else can do for me. Thank You.

 

My next two posts will probably be from my Friend, ally and semi-editor Jeff, who has been there since I started writing online. Or not…… I’ve become unpredictable these days, even to myself. Thank Me if you eventually read it.

Tomorrow will mark the end and beginning of another year in my Life. I thank God.

Before you go, I need you all to tell or say what you think on this matter; Feminism. Are Men and women equal?

FINITO.

Fund raising for my Samsung Galaxy Tab


Hello Mortals, today is No Panty Day……… And even though I’m wearing panties,(of course na) I have decided to put up a post. Now please nobody should be so dumb as to ask why today of all days, I’m a woman and by now you all should know we say even the things we’re not asked. Soooooo down to my story oh jare……

For those of you that aren’t on my BBM, your girl wants to buy a Samsung galaxy oh.

So today is world panty day and my friend and I decided to go visit another friend and friend, now how we got there isn’t important but when i got there i saw a Samsung galaxy tab on the couch. (ghen ghen?) In-case you dunno, its a phone; An Android phone and i know many of you haven’t seen it, so please nobody should give me the Nma-is-a-bush-girl look.
After famzing small, I picked up the phone and Bam! I’m on the net. At this juncture I must say hat the phone is tight. There’s no site I’ve not opened today oh, I made sure I went to all the blog sites I’ve abandoned:…. Including mine. Went to Terdoh’s Blog, Wana’s 360nobs One on One with Celebs(celebs ko.), will visit The Joker, Saka and some other blogs soon. If I didn’t abandon your blog, then today is not your lucky day. Well this som’tin doesn’t have spell check oh, or maybe I haven’t found out where it is yet….. It keeps switching my I with O, but that’s not a problem; its still an awesome phone. The owner hasn’t really figured out how to use it yet, so he’s not disturbing me yet. Of course the owner is a guy, females are almost too vain to have this kind of phone.

So the issue is that I need to buy this Samsung Galaxy tab. And I need your donations, Please I am extremely serious. If u have any rich brother or Uncle that will buy it for me without having to be ‘Simbi the runs girl’, please indicate and help a sister in need. And if you think you would.love to donate to my cause add me up on BBM(and don’t forget to tell me where you got my pin); 31199a2c.

I’ve been wondering what the problem with Nigeria is, why wasn’t this phone produced by one of us, Why wasn’t Steve Jobs a Nigerian. Is it that we lack brains over here or that the system doesn’t give us good opportunities to showcase our talents. Just what exactly?

Anyway this is two days later, that’s to show you how busy I am. I couldn’t finish the post on there because something more important came up. Don’t forgive me. (I really couldn’t be bothered). And I think I have forgotten all the awesome things I wanted to say about the phone. Now since I have succeeded in ranting and raving. Its time for all of you to find your way out of here, the same way you came. I’ll be putting up a sensible post up soon.

Ciao.

PS; I’m too tired to check for corrections, as I said earlier I’m busy.

THE MORNING AFTER (Sequel to ‘Night Time is for Prowling’)


Hola mi amigos, this is the sequel to ‘Night Time is for Prowling’. If you enjoyed laughing at me in the former, you’ll enjoy this.
Here’s the link for the first part of it: NIGHT TIME IS FOR PROWLING
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We were shocked. Chisom and I that is.

I was staring stupidly at the pair of big red sneakers behind a stack of books as I knew Chisom was staring at the notepad I had handed her a few seconds earlier. But I was not even in the room at that point.

I was remembering staring at the same pair of sneakers as our assailant had shouted and threatened us before walking to his car and driving off. I remember the humiliation I felt as I wet myself out of fear…and a red curtain of rage descended on my brain.

“Juliet?” Chisom said, sounding scared. She knew well enough how I got whenever I was angry…and at that moment I was murderously angry.

“Juliet, please don’t lose control,” she pleaded with me. “There must be an explanation…”

I turned on her furiously. “Of course there must be! He’s your brother isn’t he?”

Chisom looked hurt. “No…that’s not why, and you know that. That guy from last night just did not seem like Junior. Mask or no, I would think I’d recognize my own brother that up close.”

That stopped me. It was true. Even though I did not know Junior that much, I wasn’t convinced it was him that had been on the road last night. The size and voice just did not fit. However…

“Maybe that’s true, but even you can’t deny he must know something. The shoes…the notepad? He must know something!”

Chisom nodded, looking unhappy. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Junior will – should soon be back. He’ll explain things then.”

Despite Chisom’s confidence, it was almost three hours before we heard Junior stop the car outside. She jumped up nervously and went to stand by the door. I remained by the table, carrying one of the red sneakers. Some seconds later began to hear voices, and Chisom looked at me wonderingly. I just shrugged.

Moments later the door opened and in came Junior, talking over his shoulder to a guy who was much taller than he was. As soon as they were both in the room, Chisom quietly shut the door and leaned against it. I mentally applauded her.

“Hey…what…” Junior began, and then he looked up and saw me. “What are you guys doing my room? Chisom?”

She did not answer. Neither did I. I was watching the guy behind Junior. He looked back at me, looking very handsome with one eyebrow raised but I was not seeing any of that. Instead I was seeing someone who was wearing a mask, commanding my friend and me to do humiliating things…

“Junior, whose sneakers are those?” I heard Chisom ask from her position at the door. Junior frowned and stepped towards me, looking at the shoe I was carrying.

“Why do you want to know? First of all you shouldn’t be in my room…” I interrupted.

“Just answer the question, Junior. It’s important.”

Junior was trying to make up his mind when his friend spoke from over his shoulder, “those are mine. And yes; I was the one who stopped you guys last night.”

Even if I was not sure before hearing his voice confirmed it for me. His calm infuriated me and I hurled the sneaker I was still carrying at his head. As he calmly knocked it aside I made ready to throw myself at him.

In all the confusion, I didn’t realize Chisom had left her position by the door and was standing next to me. The first clue I had about her presence was a pair of hands that wrapped themselves around me; effectively immobilizing me. I looked at my friend Chisom through eyes that were ready to stream tears of rage and frustration, but she was not looking at me. Instead she was staring at Junior’s friend.

“But why?” she asked him, pain clear in her voice. “What did we ever do to you?”

I saw Junior from the corner of my eye; looking like a chicken that had suddenly been drenched in water. His mouth was open, and he kept alternating between staring at us and staring at his friend.

“You better close that mouth before a fly makes a home of it,” I said dryly, and then laughed as he snapped his mouth shut.The sight was so…I could not stop laughing. Junior looked at me strangely, and then he too started laughing. Before long the small room was filled with sounds of our laughter as Chisom and our handsome ‘abductor’ joined in.

Finally Chisom wiped the tears from her eyes and asked him; “you still haven’t answered the question. Why?”

Grinning widely, our ‘abductor’ responded. “You know you guys are quite the neighborhood showoffs, and besides it really isn’t safe getting out at the time you guys do. I just took the opportunity to kill two birds with a stone.”

He finished, looking quite pleased with himself.

I was a bit angry. “You idiot. Whatever did you do with the video?” I asked him rudely.

Junior answered. “Are you talking about this video?”

I swung around to see him brandishing an iPhone; the same one with which our humiliation was recorded the night before. I dashed at him and made to grab it but I missed. He laughed, and then I heard a voice saying ‘please please’.

My voice.

I covered my face in embarrassment, but Chisom, silly girl went to her brother and started watching the video with him. “Juliet, come and watch this stuff. It’s hilarious!”

I was not going to budge – that is, till ‘abductor’ grabbed my arm and gently pulled me to Junior’s side of the room. And I hate to admit it; but the video was funny. I started watching at the part where Chisom and I were dancing to no music. Watching the way we were moving and the looks on our faces; I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.

As the video played to the end, I quickly grabbed the phone and ran towards the door. ‘Abductor’ got there first and grabbed me, but not before I deleted the video. Junior quickly came up and grabbed the phone…looking dismayed as he could not find the video, but the dude’s unruffled demeanor bothered me.

As Chisom, still laughing took her brother away and I opened the door to go upstairs, I leaned in close and asked ‘abductor’; ‘That’s the only copy you had, right?’

He grinned and mouthed one word ‘youtube’.
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Lmfao. I’m laughing at myself. My story.
All thanks to Seun Odukoya, he writes for me and is an editor and special friend. Join him at Naija Stories Much luv dear.

Here’s the first part again: NIGHT TIME IS FOR PROWLING
If you enjoyed this, and would luv to read more; Subscribe to this Blog. Also don’t forget to drop a comment, I’ll love to read what you think. 🙂

HOW TO BE A GANGSTER.


Hey Hola reader!*sits on stage* I refuse to admit that I’m eating Moin-Moin from a foil, but I’m doing it. Its Awful though, the taste. I don’t even get why I’m doing it…… Mtcheew. Water please!!!.

Here goes…….. I could easily come on here and write about something else, I could crack a dry joke and make my readers laugh at my stupidity and not the joke. Nevertheless I decided to do this, it could pass as a sequel to My Post: The Complexities of life: Here. I have had it for a long time, but I couldn’t find the right words to complete it. Its not perfect, but these are words of wisdom. Read with Care.

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Generally, I have learnt some things about life. Well, NO I’m not perfect and I do not have all of earth’s knowledge. But then………..

in life, you’ll meet those who are Arrogant, learn to defend yourself.

you’ll meet those who seem Beautiful, never think of yourself as less.

you’ll meet people with different Characters, remember one thing, be very original.

you’ll meet people who are Deceitful, the solution-be the definition of truth.

your Enemy is not he whom you hate, he is the one you admire.

there are some who will always be Faithful, be good to them too.

you’ll meet the overly Generous, learn when to give in return.

Humans are filled with the Haughty, know how to be indifferent.

sometimes you will meet the Ignorant, teach them when you can.

in life you don’t always find justice, get used to that.
sadly, there are some called Killjoy, remember that happiness is the easiest thing to find.

if you seek for Love, you might get Lust, your heart will teach you good from bad if you are willing.

Money is your greatest friend, all you have to do is work hard.

Never say Never.

Opportunity sometimes comes in through the back door, so try to leave both doors open.

Peace is difficult to keep. It is your personal definition of what gives you satisfaction, guard it jealously.

if you want to be treated like a Queen, you have to act like one. And same goes for Kings.

Rising to fulfillment is different from rising to fame.

Shut Up! Not always though, but do more listening than talking. That way you learn better.

your Talent will bring you before men of great importance, develop it.

the aim of living is not just being the Ultimate, it is living to the Ultimate.

Vanity upon vanity, Life is Vanity. And if you want to know how Vain life is, go here too.

In every competition, strive to Win. And if you cannot, learn from the Winner.

X is a symbol of multiplication, increase your knowledge in every dimension. Learn to learn.

Your life is about You and your creator. No other. Pay no attention to busy tongues.

Zip, Zero, Zilch. You came to earth with nothing. You are leaving with nothing.

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*wipes hands on jeans* Yes and btw, This is not how to be a gangster, I just wanted to play with your heads… Mortals. I’ll love to read what you think, so hit the comment box and click on the two boxes below; For when I reply you. Ciao? Yes Bye.

I HATE MY SCHOOL……..


hello y’all. I missed you all, or let’s say I missed blogging. School has been hectic. As subsidy waka pass, na by exam things.
Did you notice that the first word I wrote started with a small letter? Odeh! I know you were rushing to read why I hate my school. Mtcheew. Why I hate my school?, I’ve been writing exams for almost a month and its still not finished, that’s like 6weeks to write 7exams. And today they just shifted my Anatomy exam. Well maybe I should be jumping for joy, but I’ve not slept in 3days. I’ve been reading like I was chased……… Plus my 2nd semester lectures have started. And all these means no holiday for me. Why always me? ¯\..(•͡.̮ •͡ )../¯ I wonder why the system is like this. Mtcheew. But I still hate my school.

That’s my excuse for not putting any post up since February. Geez! A lot of people have been asking why I’ve not written. Its not that I’m not writing, its that I’m writing school work. Pardon Me. So GUEST WRITERS ARE NEEDED. I’m more into stories, FUNNY stories. Not just stories, posts that are funny. Not to worry, gbagauns are allowed. (Amir I see you). I’m going to put up the part two of ‘NIGHT TIME IS FOR PROWLING’ soon. That’s the last part, so relax.
By the way(and by the bush, for those of you who live in dilapidated areas-Wana’s sub), its not just about the stories. Poems are included too. 2nd semester has started and I foresee another hectic 3.5 months, so I’ll need all hands/hoofs on deck.

I’m boring, I know. I should stop ,I know too. I know. And I hate you too. :p. Okay, in my most serious mood now. I promise to try my best to post at least once a week. Emphasis on least. I missed those who missed me. For those who didn’t; Who are you? Mtcheew Plebeian.

Disclaimer:
This is not an apology. As a god, I don’t owe you mortals anything. Plus did I cry up there?, your eyes should be cleaned out bruv. Any gbagauns? Eff it mehn. 😐

This can pass for a post right? right? Or are you still waiting for the punchline? Hahaha. In JussBasco’s voice ‘You can’t be serious’.

Moral of this post:
I AM BORED. I want to sub you, but there’s nothing to write.(I just did)

NIGHT TIME IS FOR PROWLING.


I don’t know how to start this, just know its a story.
As I’ve always said about my stories, this is fiction. None of the characters is real either. So if it looks like the story of your life, then I should probably open a fortune telling stall. (Oh Eff all of that).
Just read the story, and then tell me what you think. Thanks.
———- ——— ———– ——— ———– ———– ————- ———– ———– ———- ———- ———

I belong to the group of people who believe that night time was originally created for fun (before Adam and Eve spoilt everything :-|). When I say fun, I don’t mean sexual activities. Fun could include hanging out, seeing movies, partying and the sort. But whenever I remember last night’s events, I have to denounce my beliefs.

‘So what time will you be back?’ my kid sister had been drilling me since I started preparing to go out.

‘Sweetie, I don’t know, just make sure your phone is beside you so that you’ll come to open the kitchen door when I call you’, I smiled at her.

After wearing a really short gown, I proceeded to wear a very long night gown. The hand-bag containing my shoes and make up was outside the house already. I locked the door to my room and went to bid mom and dad good-night. They were so wrapped up in their conversation; they didn’t notice when I sneaked out to my friend’s waiting car (not that they were supposed to notice). I pulled off my night gown and proceeded to make up.

The friend in question is a girl, and we going on a girls’ night out. The details of our hang out aren’t important though. Just know that we had so much fun; we didn’t know we we’re being followed when we left the club.

We were half way into the journey back home when a car drove past and blocked us.

‘Get down!‘ our assailant barked at us. ‘Yepa!’ was the only thing that came to my mind. I tried to peep at his face, but he was wearing a mask and holding a knife that reminded me of one of the meat knives back at home.

We dropped our phones without his asking, hoping he’ll leave us alone. But he had just started.

First he asked us to frog-jump for some minutes. Weird right? I still wonder why.

Afterwards he asked us our names, details and what we were doing out at that time. We were so scared; we couldn’t lie. All the while he was recording the proceedings with a camera phone.

Next, he asked us to dance to the popular song ‘Windeck’. The only problem was there was no music; it was supposed to be playing in our heads.
Do you know how it feels to dance without music? I’m sure we looked like idiots.

I started dancing first, and by the time my friend Chisom joined me, tears were freely falling from my eyes.
‘Please now, we’re sorry’, I pleaded. Funniest thing was I didn’t even know what it was we were supposed to have done wrong.
No Comment.
‘Please sir, we’re sorry. Its getting late, our parents don’t know we left the house.’
Our pleas fell on deaf ears; we just kept dancing to unheard music and were terrified of the knife gleaming in his hands.

Our begging took a different dimension after fifteen minutes of uninterrupted dancing:
‘Chineke, I swear I’ll never sneak out again,’ Chisom said.
I continued with: ‘in fact, I won’t go for any party till my wedding…’
‘Me, till I die,’ Chisom interjected.

Okay, so I know you’re probably laughing at us, but it wasn’t funny then. Our phonetic intonations gradually turned to Nigerian Pidgin.

‘E don be for us o!’ I kept jerking my waist. Even our captor started laughing.

I think we would have run away, but for the fact that Chisom’s mom’s car was there.
‘Okay, I’ll release you,’ he finally said after close to thirty minutes.
‘Eh!! Thank you,’ we chorused.
‘Quiet!’ he snapped.
‘Sorry sir, we’re very….’
‘But before you go, you’ll write undertaking never to sneak out again,’ he ended.

That had to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, but I couldn’t even object. We nodded in agreement. From his back pocket, he brought out a note-pad for us to write. With shaking hands, we faithfully wrote. I wouldn’t know what Chisom wrote, but here’s a copy of mine:-

‘I; Juliet,promise never ever, in my entire existence to sneak out or fly out or fence out of my house for a late night trip – sorry; I mean night clubbing. If I do, let this be brought as evidence against me.’
And I signed afterwards.

Please ignore the grammatical errors. I was scared shitless. I couldn’t give a hoot about English.

He finally let us go and didn’t even take our phones. We stayed on the ground; where he’d instructed us to lie until he had driven far away. My senses finally came alive; I remember smelling urine. I think I peed in my panties.. We were both speechless on the ride home. I soundlessly climbed over the fence and my sister came to open the door as planned.

The Morning After…
“Who was even that idiot?” Chisom could not get the incident off her mind.

I assumed that the question wasn’t for me, so I ignored it.

We were alone in her family house, her parents had travelled the previous day (that’s how we got access to the car); and her elder brother Junior had gone out with friends.

“Please where is the Dan Brown novel you promised to give me?” I made an attempt at changing the subject.

“It should be on Junior’s table,” she said; still sulking.

I managed to drag her down to her brother’s room where we both searched for the novel. It was I who the first evidence…the note pad; before she spotted the pair of big red sneakers which we had been forced to stare at last night.

I looked at Chisom and I could guess that the same question was on her mind; ‘was it junior who harassed us last night?’

Watch out for the sequel to this, where we would go on a hunt for our………………….
—- —— —— —— ——— ——– ———- ——— ——— ——— ——— ———- ——— ——– ——— ——– ——

Once again, I took your precious time, by making you read this endless story. :D, but don’t worry, the 2nd part is coming soon. Let’s hope my story ends there, because I’m also :S about all of this.

Moral of The Story:
Why always me? 😥

This short story was written by @homeschooldnerd. If you liked it, scroll down to drop a comment. If you did not enjoy it, do the same. Gracias.

THE BRO CODE


Hey… @OluwaWanaBaba here.

For those of you guys who read the Girl Code on here and are feeling aggrieved/angered, not to worry. I have brought our own set of rules, called the Bro Code.

First of all, I have to define what a Bro is. A Bro is any guy that has complied with the Bro Code and has obeyed majority of the rules written within.

Warning: Not every guy is your Bro. If you bring a hot chick home and your elder brother tries to poach her from you, he is not your Bro. If your friend knows you’re hungry, and still takes the last moin-moin in the fridge, he is definitely not your Bro.

In some special cases, a girl can be regarded as a bro. If she hooks you up with her busty friends, then she’s a bro. And if she still hooks you up with more even if you didn’t call the last one after, she’s definitely a good bro.

So, the code… All ladies can like to close their browsers now… I won’t be responsible for any eye damages.

CODE 001: The very fundamental rule. Bros before hoes. Never stand a bro up for a girl. Never stop playing video games with your bros because a girl called. Never. Never. Never.

CODE 002: You are never to let a female, who doesn’t qualify as a bro, to know about the existence of the Code. You are never to divulge it contents to them. The punishment for disobeying this rule exile of bro-dom for at least 6 weeks.

CODE 003: You’re are only allowed to do something stupid when all your bros are doing it. If your bros are using cutlery to eat Moin-moin, do not use your fucking hand.

CODE 004: While chatting or on any social network with your bros, it is forbidden to use the following smileys —–> :* ;;) ❤ ({})

CODE 005: Two bros shall never drink Ice-cream from the same Cup. Don't allow the devil to use you.

CODE 006: It is highly forbidden to be sexually attracted to another guy, bro or not. Being gay is grave sin, and the punishment is the swapping of your eyes and your testicles. Eyes to your scrotum, testicles to the eye socket.

CODE 007: You are never to dance with your hands above your head. You're a bro, not a booty shaker at Rehab or Tribeca.

CODE 008: A Bro shall never sleep with another Bro's sister. It is okay to compliment a Bro about is sister, but kpanshing her is a gross violation of our code.

CODE 009: Even in a fight to death, a Bro never punches/kicks another Bro in the groin. Never. That's just plain evil.

CODE 010: Under no circumstances shall two Bros share an umbrella. That level of proximity is not allowed.

CODE 011: A Bro must request written permission from another Bro before he can hit on that Bro's Ex. Should the Bro refuse, you are banned from seeing her forever.

CODE 012: A Bro is not required to buy birthday gifts for another Bro. That he remembered the day alone is enough.

CODE 013: A Bro never lets another Bro wear skinny jeans or jeggings or whatever they are called. Never. Slap him if required to get him back to his senses.

CODE 014: A Bro is never allowed to compliment another guy's body.

CODE 015: Never allow a telephone conversation with a girl to last longer than it takes to have sex with her.

CODE 016: A Bro shall never watch the following programs on TV: Figure skating, Men's gymnastics and any sport involving women (except viewed for sexual purposes.)

CODE 017: A Bro shall never spend more than two minutes in front of the mirror. If more time is needed, there shall be a three-minute waiting period before returning back to the mirror.

CODE 018: Taylor Swift? Never. Never Ever.

CODE 019: A Bro is only allowed to cry when:
1. A heroic dog dies trying to save it's master.
2. After being hit in the testicles with anything moving faster than 7 miles per hour.
3. While/After watching 3 Idiots.
4. When Karen Igho gets married.

CODE 020: Under no circumstances shall two unrelated Bros share a bed or anything that can be conceived as a mattress.

CODE 021: A Bro is never to use the word "Ouch." Feel free to use the Rick Ross grunt or the Ibadan scream of "Yeeeee!" when in times of pain.

CODE 022: A Bro is never allowed to wear pink. Not even to the bathroom.

CODE 023: When asked "Do you need some help?", A bro must automatically respond "No, thanks." Except when he's carrying an expensive television or a cooler of Moin-moin.

CODE 024: A Bro never spell-checks. Gbagauning is a manly attribute.

CODE 025: It is not permitted for a Bro to cuddle with a girl, except if the girl in question is, at least, an 8.

CODE 026: A Bro must never make fun of another Bro's height.

CODE 027: Bros don't speak French to each other. French is the most romantic language on Earth, and thus cannot be used between Bros.

CODE 028: A Bro is never a vegetarian. Veggies are for pussies.

CODE 029: When 3 Bros have to sit down at back seat of a car, it is forbidden for one of them to put his hands on another's shoulder to create space.

CODE 030: When dancing on the same floor, two bros must maintain a 3-foot distance between themselves.

These and a host of others are the rules guiding your life as a bro. Except where punishment is stated, the offending bro is going to be de-broed for 24 hours, within which he shall not participate in any of the group's activities, and shall be referred to as "Princess".

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