Saturday, December 25, 2010

Snowball in yo face-like that!

It would be totally wrong and sinful not to pause a moment just to scream "MERRRRRRY CHRISTMAS TO YA'LL!!!!!!"

MWUAH MWUAH MWUAH Kissssses all over the place!Hope you're having a fab day, and if it doesnt rock so hard, simply cozy up with a good movie and enjoy watching the day pass!!!Or better still,cozy up with your laptop and enjoy some of the T.Notes classics!Serious.

LOVE YA!!!!!And especial Hugs to my offblogger pals who so entirely rock!

Merry xmas Lara,2cute,musco,Abi,Ade,YN my girl whoop whoop!!!!,neefemi,paraket,olufunmi,LDP,my new pal Modupe,Miss Fab!,Naijalines,Myne,Mr talkaholic,Vera!!!and if i forget your mention, just assumme that i am totally knackered at the time of penning these thoughts!

Ho ho ho ho ho all!

P.S, yes christmas, as a day could truly be overated, it's really all a thing of the heart/mind, so be like me and choose happy.

P.P.S, Got some miracle cash so coming term's fees and some month's rent is sorted. Still need a job though to survive bills!

P.P.P.S, who's heard that post study visa is being cancelled from april. Start thinking plan B fellow U.K postgraduate students.

P.P.P.P.S We have much to talk about, but for now, back to rocking xmas.

P.P.P.P.P.S A special Love to my friend who's working on this cold xmas day. Advice, just do a bum jiggle whilst your work about!!!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

All the world's a random blog

I’ve got a huge folder teeming with uncompleted blogs n notes! In a moment of gay, i’ll do my best to compile all into one jolly good random! P.S, London for the xmas holidays. Leaving in a few hours. I’d better have internet!

Why should i get married? I seem to have lost all interest in the concept! Maybe i’m a selfish dick, but i love my life. I have loads of all sorts of friends that i’m just not ready to give up and become a responsible married man. And that is the least of my reasons.

I love the corrs. Always have. Its always been my fantasy to get married to Andrea and stare into her irish eyes all day long over Spanish El desayuno and warm blackcurrants. For Andrea, i would get married.

Last night was beautiful...and no durex satchets were harmed during the course of the hours. Seven grown men and women cozied in a warm bedroom guffawed the night away whilst it snowed outside. Somewhat reminiscent of that scene in sound of music where they sang ‘my favourite things’ whilst a storm brewed outside. No, conversations were mostly not cultured.

I started out kidding about it, but it seems i really do have a crush of some sort on French Cc!

Sigh. I’m fast getting broke. Been frantically rying to get a job before it becomes a real problem. The life of a self funded international student is another world altogether. There’s no getting around that day of reckoning where you’ll start counting the pennies.

Boredom takes you to strange places. I recently discovered the underground world of live tease cam websites. Its really like walking into those victorian style brothels with an array of rooms for the numerous ‘models’. Without mincing words, the center of attention is a lone woman transmitting via webcam her doings with fingers and sex toys. There were streaming 832 ‘models’ that night in that one website, and all girl-next-door kind of people. I could really have sworn that i’ve met ‘Jayden Kane’ and ‘Texas4cum’ somewhere before along bhm streets or in school! Are girls students by daytime and webcam models by night making some extra cash??Lol, would i take up a webcam job to make some extra cash?!

SexChatsites...I honestly was only fooling around. But what do u know, i got a few mails this morning:

You have received a new message from another V...user.
Hey Stranger, hope you well, thanks for getting back to me. I did not think these sites worked! I'm attaching a pic and if you are ok with what I look like then maybe contact me on my personal addy, its and I'll tell you a bit more about myself, hopefully we can get something going, chat soon, Dolli.

Did i mention D’s friend who stayed the weekend? Then joined a lone me early in the morning where i was busy working on my stock returns models. She’s clad in skimpy lace pants and some kind of bra-top. “Hi..could you give me a hand, the shower doesn’t seem to be coming on.”
“Oh Jesus...”I mutter as i try to keep my gaze on a face and not on her skin.”
“Uhmmm, yeah sure, let’s have a look at it.”
I follow the chic into the bathroom and notice that her night gown lay discarded on the floor.....

I feel like i’m living in those xmas hallmark movies with all these frigging snow that just won’t stop!

Have to run now, before i miss the train!

Monday, December 13, 2010

Letters from the land of broken typewriters

2Cute4u left a comment on my last pages saying, I don’t understand you anymore. I thought about that for a moment, then shook my head and replied briefly, saying, yeah, i don’t understand myself either much these days. I think it was Socrates who quoted saying ‘the only thing i know is that i know nothing. I think that about sums it up. I will explain.

I initially started out these pages with the intention of theatrical entertainment, i.e make believe- that’s what we do in theater, i guess. But somewhere along the line, it’s safe to say i discovered that i really wasn’t talking make believe anymore. Most of the drama i was pouring out herein were either real life soaps from my own existence disguised as short fables, or, the less noble intentions of my soul which i was struggling to conceal. Subsequently, in response to my poster-guy sort of life, i caught the poster-guy sin-drone, which i will explain in a little bit.

Whilst i was in the university, Jaci velasques was quite famous as a Christian musician. Her songs were 1st spiritual, then a little more trendy, until the last album which i heard of when she bleated out, ‘this is the real me, can you take it?!’ Jaci isn’t the 1st person living a exhibitionist life who at some point in time felt sick of the high expectations and needed to break out with seeming rebellion. Hey, even more recently is Keri hilson’s latest release, the way you f*ck me. If you haven’t heard it or seen the vid, i’m not sure it’s still on you tube due to its disturbingly explicit content. Poster-person sin-drone is when your life has for so long been an epitome of propriety, or decorum, that you start to get sick of it and just need to break out. That is where i found myself and it’s really nothing new under the sun. But here is my catch 22. What does a waiter do when he’s handling ten plates of expensive china in all hands and discovers he’s got an itch in his crotch? You see, there’s such a point where you just cannot afford to let the plates crash to the ground in abandon, yet how deeply that itch scratches like a cockroach in the pants!

Where the conflict of interest laid is, ok, i wanted to write, that’s all i’ve ever really known to do-well except for all the finance and maths bullish. But there is obviously a seeming deception if you are writing what you do not entirely believe in. And i’m just the kind of person who needs to be firm about anything i ever wanted to say. Have you ever felt like, who the f*ck am i anyways?! P.s, in my former life, i hardly use swear words whereas the past year has seen me sliding fast down this slippery slope of utter disarrangement such that for every new day, i’d stare at myself in the mirror and question, who the heck is this stranger?! Note that, this is hardly a self esteem issue. If it was, i wouldn’t be indulging into half of the things or interactions that i get up to. Somehow, someway, i just don’t even give a rat’s ass anymore such that timidity hardly becomes a problem. I’d pull up a chair and have long chats with total strangers like we were lifemates buds. So i meet the best and the worst of the lot without an iota of condemnation from my part. Why? Because i have discovered that deep within, i am non better, our intentions are all screwed up when we come face to face to the worst of it. Which is why subsequently i get myself into all sorts of untidy situations such as having to currently unravel unrestrained conversations that led to, ‘yeah, sure, come over midnight, i’m pretty much idle’. Mind you, in this regard, my depravity has only sunk to a certain extent and gone no further. But yet frankly, i summise that even that is just a matter of time.

So dear dear whomever has briefly deemed to wonder or concluded and judged otherwise. Sit with me at midnight over a meal of French marinated mushroom and let me point the fact as of the life of c.s lewis. There exists a whole world of writers and scribblers, but alas, it is useful to pause at some point to question if you believe to the gut of your soul the fluidity that your pen strokes unto parchment. Do you write simply for entertainment, then that is fine. But if you seek to reach deeper and relay one simple message even for the rest of your existence, then it’d better be worth your life. In that regard, who is a writer if he does not know who he is in the first place?

P.S, if i was as fickle as the rest of the lot, then observe within the lines that these musings would hardly be occurring in the first place, neither is there a struggle to maintain a standard if there wasn’t in the first place a regime of moral authority within. Martin Luther said, ‘Be a sinner and let your sin be strong, but let your trust in Christ be stronger...’. You see, the reason why most people give up and abandon a walk of faith is when they come face to face with the seeming impossibility to plough ahead and break a certain vices. Most times we just give up and say, hey what the heck! But sometimes, you just aren’t afforded the luxury of saying, what the heck and let the whole thing come crashing down. In my response, i temporarily put aside my previously lofty aspirations of saving the world, and just concentrate on screaming my thoughts out till i can save just one significant person...i.e, myself.

P.S, this is not an affrontation at’re still my blogsville crush! *wink*

Friday, December 10, 2010

Lend me your God (1): Letters to heaven.

I am waiting for you by the edge of the North Pier with the sun slowly setting ahead. How I wish you’d come on time to catch the view with me. The waters have quietened from the day’s turmoil and now only occasional lap gently against the pier’s wooden base. Should you show up, I’ll be the guy leaning against the barricade staring ahead into the blackening waters. I am hoping i would soon see you up ahead, my face would light up, i’d hurry to meet you, then we’d walk the length of this scenic pier together whilst i map out to you the many words off my heart. If you are reading these letters however, it means my heart must have sank with the rest of the depleting sunset- because you did not come. And in a last bid of hope, i have remained here constructing fine words into the wings of childish paperplanes, watching each one float seamlessly into space.

What do you think about hope? I picked these words up along the way coming here:

“I dare to believe that the luckless will get lucky someday in you. You won’t let them down; orphans won’t be orphans forever. The victim’s faint pulse (will) pick up; the hearts of the hopeless (will) pump red blood as you put your ear to their lips (and finally pay attention to the whispered words off their hearts). Psalms 10.

I have realized of late that life has made me become somewhat of a sceptic. But what do you call it –sceptism, realism or faithlessness? Such as how I have no problems with hope, only that even in hope i find it easier to hold a sensible alternative should there be no light at the end of the tunnel, Should the doctors say there is no use holding on anymore, or should you get a call that she didn’t make it (i light candles in quiet thoughts of you). For me, hope is like being stuck within a musty maze of dark underground tunnels. It’s the little candle light I hang onto as I meander my way around in confusion, hoping to find an exit into brighter days. But whilst i accept hope, i also hold a back thought that at the end of the route that i presently travel, there just might maybe another dead end. The ray of light i thought i saw might turn out to only be a crack in the stone walls and not the exit i was praying for. So all the while that i travel, i am constructing backup plans as anaesthetics to likely disappointments. That is the way i have hoped.

It’s worked for me so far, until now- which is why i desperately called out to you. There comes a point where there’s no backup strong enough to lighten the weight of a possible disappointment. Where even with the best of my creativity, i know only two things could happen this time around- either my soul dies, or you show up and step into this mess. That’s the point where i am right now. (Ooh, i think i just saw a dolphin! You really should be here; you’re missing out on all these fine view! Quiet...i realize that I miss you!....yet at the same time, i question if i ever knew you. But i’m taking baby steps. It’s all still a mess, but ooh look at me, i’m walking!)

It’s getting dark now, i’d have to return home soon, but i’ll be back; i’m not giving up just yet. That’s the thing about reaching breaking point, and remembering why and how i got to this place that i am. When you walk away due to ardent discontent, then the alternative just has to work out. And this is the alternative that i am carefully trying to live out. I long ran out of extra tricks and back up plans. So in this place, it’s me and you- life or death. And sublimely, it all comes back to the question of hope, doesn’t it? And i guess it does make it even more desperate, because you just have to show up, and in the meantime, i just have to remain, holding on, hoping. There’s a bunch of Brazilian kids ahead doing some kind of drum rehearsals. The music from the drumbeat is familiar..i’ve heard it before in a place long ago, and funny enough, it was with me and you. The significance this time around is different. This time it sounds like the tune of my heart beating. A song of hope, yet at the same time a song of war. An adage says, don’t mess with the cat that’s on its last life. Since i choose not to die just yet, then we’re fighting this route through to the end. And the end for me is only that abundant life i have long dreamed of---wide open spaces for the pursuit of my heart’s many respites.

Now let’s see if we can make this paper plane fly.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Mindblowing Foursome!: Bloggers in my sheets!

I actually have no business blogging about this, but what the heck, it rocked my night and hey, its my page!

So it started with a ring at 9pm. And a familiar female asked quickly, “T.Notes are you free?” Like really, what do you tell a sexy voice asking if you’re free on a cold night in the U.K? No-brainer right? Moreso if that voice belongs to hmmm…the glamorous Duchess-of-London, blogger clueless in stiletoes? (Like hell yayyyy you owe me for the extravagant flattery).
So, “Hell ya!!!” was my immediate reply.
“Ok, hold on, I’ll get Y too.”
“You’ll get Y too?!!!” I spilled my coffee.

“Hiii!” Another dreamy voice, complete with that properly indoctrinized Chicago accent and sounding curiously breathless. (I suspect you YN!!!)

By then I was thinking ‘Blawdy, hell, Santa’s come early to Birmingham!’ as there’s now not just one, but two to-die-for females only a kiss whisper away!”
“Hang on still…”She hurriedly takes off again.

By now I had my performance theme song playing in my head whilst I was doing hurried pushups to brace myself for the task ahead.

“…It's the eye of the tiger, it's the cream of the fight
Risin' up to the challenge…”

BUT...Scratch the record…the last newcomer was a husky voice, and guess who, that son-of-a-gun MUSCO!!!!WTF!!!Blood drains to a sickening limpness.

LOL!!!!ROTFWL!!!You know I’m kidding!

In brief words, this T.Note marks the awesome conference call I just had with Clueless in Stiletoes, YankeeNaija, and Musco my main man!LOL! Gosh, that was hilarious!!!

P.S: Total Disclaimer on that picture! The events that followed from that one picture should not even be described. For real,those kids were having sex! Whats this world coming too! Its bad enough we know they're doing it, but putting pictures online havin sex???Thats just wrong!!!Now really.

Monday, October 11, 2010


The quiet...

Last night I dreamt of a sheep, who stood by the boundaries of his rusty pen, held a cup of coffee in one hoof and looked introspectively out beyond the demarcations he’d lived within his whole life. The company of the sheepfold as usual, were gathered together a small distance away from him-blissfully enjoying their lush green grass and discussing the fine weather. One of the lot noticed my coffee handling herbivore and skipped cheerfully over to him.
“What’s up mate?” He bleeted in a so annoying local Birmingham accent.

My coffee lad tinkered his hoof briefly against the mug before replying. “You know that story about that bob sheep that supposedly got lost and was joyfully found again by his trusty shepherd?”
“Yayyy…” Came the reply from the newcomer with a simple smile, “…that heartwarming legend.”

CoffeeSheep takes a sip off his brew, “Yes that one. I think the whole thing was a hoax. The happenings of the events were twisted-I think that the Bob in question was never lost in the first place. I think he got sick and tired of this rusty old pen, broke out, was living the life in Vegas, until the so called good shepherd rounded him up and dragged his woolly ass back to this shithole.”

The newcomer is quiet for a while, looses the all the gay in his expression and finally manages to mutter, “Heresy…How could you ever come up with such insanity?!”

CoffeeBob taps his woolly cranium briefly and answers smartly, “I spent the night talking to the winds and thinking things out. The winds have been here for all ages you know. They see all things, and for all who would humbly ask, they can help direct you into the truth of the universe.”
“Gentle Most Blessed shepherd…this one has lost his marbles! I told you all that coffee who’ve been drinking would soon soak up all your brain!”

“At least you acknowledge that I have a brain… Can’t say any more for the rest of you slacks.” Coffee murmured under his breath, “My point though is…if you can understand any of this underworded tirade, I have found recognition in the life of that sheep. All my years of built up convictions is failing to hold me down any longer…the world that I used to know as certain and true is falling to pieces all around me”

“I fear I do not understand you.” My simpleton companion creased his eyebrow.

Coffee notioned at the gate of the sheep pen. “You see those gates Bob. Tomorrow, I’m going to walk through it, out of here, into the wild-without any rod or staff insisting the ways I should go.”
Simple Bob’s easy eyes rounded. “You are going astray?!”

“Does it really matter…I have already been long gone in my heart –desires, aspirations et all.”
“Oh Jesus!”
“Yes…Jesus…”Coffee’s voice trailed off into thoughts and another long drawn sip of brew. “Have you ever stayed up at night to watch the stars Bob, and observe what goes on whilst you sleep within these pen?”

“Ahhh never. You know the shepherd forbids us to open our eyes whilst the night is near.”

Coffee dismisses the admission with unmasked cyniscm. “Yes,the manor house rules...” He shifts into an interested position and his face lights up. “I will tell you a secret mate. During the nights when I stay awake, a woman sheep in golden fleece appears to me!”
Bob looks about with urgency and undenied fear “The tempter of many colours! The one the shepherd warns us about!”

Coffee, with ardent impatience, “Can you forget about the fucking shepherd and his moonlight tales for once, and think for yourself! There is nothing evil about samera. She is just a sheep like the rest of us…only with the experience of the taste of freedom my heart seeks after”
“Bob, samera has ridden on the wings of the wild winds, she tells me she has tasted the rawness of the morning’s dew before the shepherd brings the filtered remnants to the rest of us. She has been to places I have only imagined in my wildest imaginations…and if I should tell you stories of the things she has done…you will certainly skip many a heartbeat and collapse your simple heart.”

Bob, with quiet realization “So you want to leave the sheep pen and go off with samera?”

Coffee looks out into the open, “Not necessarily Bob. I love the Pen, and the security it brings. It’s sane here, predictable, safe…But I need to have tasted the other side of things too. You may not understand the dilemma my restless heart presents to me.”
*Can I not have a week already atoned of even before I live it? Can I get a wildcard- like, “…take these days coffee,without accountability and do as your wildest heart would wish. Travel to spain, dance with the gypsies, indulge in pagan type orgies and when your heart has been satisfied, then you may come back home.” Should I go with samera, will he maybe keep the doors open for my return?”

Bob replies, with unexpected intelligence, “If you are so cynic of the rules, why then do you care about returning to its restrictions?”

“Maybe..because these are not just the stupid ramblings of a simple Bob…but of one who knows the truth and the repercussions of things. But really, is repercussion and truth enough to restrain a wild child?”

The quiet....

Friday, September 24, 2010

Sweet Toothed in a Candy store and Other Fairy Stories – IOW, The dilemma of Choice and Contentment.

Warning: Delightfully fine read ahead. Grab your coffee 1st.

I love C.S Lewis; I follow a blog hereon that’s dedicated to his works, and I am currently reading C.S Lewis-Through the shadowlands. Why do I bring that up? Well one thing that particularly strikes me about the timeless Legend is his intelligence and his ‘I don’t give a damn to express my POV’. Note that Mr Lewis’ opinions are hardly ever fickle. They are properly thought out and smartly concluded within before he brashly begins to tell the world. My point, I ought to give more depth to my thought process, and when I conclude about a matter, I want to be even louder about my point of view (POV). Should you consider that egoistic or rude, how do I politely tell you that the world is just too impatient and maybe too fast to bend low to listen to timid whispers! If you want to get something done (that is after you have smartly thought out the implications of your choice), you need some serious dead-set determination and “don’t give a damn”. Like we say in my former workplace: “It’s do-able”. i.e everything is freaking possible. Decide on a destination and if you’ll need to, then bulldozer your way through the path to reach your utopia/canaanland. Go ahead and conquer your world- for a reason.

On a more regular T.Note…(Sweettooths and Candy Shops)

There’s one of those off-license stores near my house (lol,which I will talk about soon enough). This one specializes in stocking all sorts of candies. Caramel, Fizzers, Fudge, name it and that Pakistanie’s stocking em. So here I am living right next to candy heaven and I’ve got a deadest sweettooth! WhoppieDoo uh? On my first sight of this convenience, I froze in place whilst my eyes budged, widened and my heart did flipflops. Welcome back home, T.Baby, You done good boy! I rubbed my hands-both in glee and due to still trying to acclimatize to summer’s ending chill. How long do you think it will take before I smash the celibate orb and dive into the first row of exotic treats? (Stay with me a little now.) I used to note that Lagos is quickly becoming a circus of such and such “innocuous” eye candies. A leisurely drive down Maryland avenues was simply not innocent anymore. And all it usually takes is a few casual hellos to cement acquaintance before the frozen chocolate exterior cracks in your teeth and the sweet caramel oozes out. Nonetheless,I have a sweettooth and threatening cavities (impressions) that imply: “Do not touch!” At this point, before I progress, I will note that if you still think this note is about innocent sweets and chocolates, then, I don’t know how else to misinform you o! Yes I am in willywonka’s darn chocolate factory- ask any bloke who’s vacationing during summer to interprete for you. *Evil Eviiiil wink*.

(That depiction should be innocent enough, get the drift)So seriously, let’s get down to business. As I noted in previous post, my first days begun with me taking an innocent piss whilst beholding black victoria secrets. Further to that episode, it’s been a bevy of red, purple and pink strings, a mis-education of those slip-in type tampons and such the like.
This all would have not fazed me if the owner of the effects was simply the regular girl next door. Instead the gods choose to have me share the downstairs flat with a partly Russian beauty who dons tight fitting lycra in the mornings. And if you know anthing about a grown man, it’s that, the early hours of the day is not his strongest point…in that regard.
Some of your comments have playfully noted that there might be some tempest waters brewing ahead. Maybe yes so (bcos honestly I have my unafraid fears) and then again, maybe not so. This dilemma bags the importance of this T.Note!

I have locked myself alone in my room tonight to decipher the dilemma of why a man cannot just be content to stroll into a candy shop, pick one chocolate chip cookie and let his marauding crusade end there and then! That is, Will you T.Baba, take this one and only woman forsaking all other….ehmm oh Jesus but just see the effect grey has on another properly rounded…éclairs! Ehmm so sorry Father, where were we? The solution – if any doth suffice, to this stone-age old daftness ofcourse will not solve a quarter of the world’s problem, but such a conviction might definitely help un-complicate my days and focus on the one path I am set here to bulldoze. i.e finish top of the class, show them hell- Naija no dey carry last! Chop knuckle Musco-Baba! So instead tonight of thinking quantitative finance, these are the sonnets of the Portuguese that plague my mind. T.notes wonders:

I’ve never quite been attracted to the Caucasian skin (preference only, no offence friends) so it is certainly only the tempter that’s helping me wonder what a white kiss might just taste like. Ooh I bind you in Jesus Name!

Now really, has any man ever never never cheated? Just even once? The pope doesn’t count and my mother unfortunately has taught me in this regard not to even count my old man. Sigh.

No matter how well you try to cage a man, as per craftiness and deceit, I think the devil was originally created with a manhood.

How do you keep your eyes straight when you’re walking down Birmingham city center and the tailor was certainly mincerly to the skirt bouncing ahead of you? In the desert of my shame, I have found myself to blame.

I can get through this, right? It is possible, isn’t it? Or maybe the extents I am pushing for is inhuman.

Does it count if one morning I barge innocuously into our shared bathroom. So sorry..let me help you get that soap.

In conclusion. The beauty of this T.Note, least you tag me another Noble Igwe, is that I survived Nigeria-Lagos to be precise.

Disclaimer: Random picture from the net depicting the beauty that is the NAIJA WOMAN!

Oooh you should have seen the leprechauninsh grin on my face as I stepped out of that virgin craft holding aloft that still celibate orb thinking to myself, YES MAN, all the Chinyere, Tolulope’s and Halimats in Lagos with all of their hiked up skirts and low cut jeans couldn’t take me down. Ehmm there are stories and near misses, but for most part, I’d say we stuck to the deal and kept forte intact. Hi-5 YankeeNaija! But herein today lies the dilemma. As Myne Whitman did beautifully put it, I am in all ramification today a typical Eze goes back to school who has imprudently imported along the age old traditions of our African Fathers and more specifically Hebrew Father Abraham or whimsical Papa C.S Lewis. Which is, Will you (or can you) T.Baba, walk this straight and narrow direct from your lecture hall and back to your room each day for the 365 days ahead without taking that calling detour into pakinstanie’s dug-out adult theme park.? Will you (or can you) maintain a wholly cordial and proper interaction with your sexy flatmate and stop this late night coffee chats you have already started indulging? When it gets cold and dreary, can you T.BABA T.BABA, T.BABA (How many times have I called you?!), curl up alone into your room, warm up the heater and sing yourself Fred Hammonds and Hail Marys to sleep? Bloody Hell, we got next!

Welcome to Birmingham, mind the Gap.

On brief randoms T.Notes…where are all the bloggers gone to?! Understadably,the more the responsibilities that stifle our days, the harder it is to squeeze out a few hours for blogger. Nonetheless, before I start calling you all out, I need to see blog updates fast. And I don’t mean the few paltry words I’ve been reading! Gosh I’ve missed a whole lot of you! *Evil wink*

I was in Plymouth last weekend. Spent a night in London, then continued a four hour road trip to the boating town. London remains ever faithful, we picked up just where we last left off. The theatres are better than ever and you can still comfortably lavish off your life savings all in a London daytrip. The sights of Plymouth are simply breathtaking . You cannot travel to Plymouth without stopping over at the central harbor-Plymouth Hoe. Standing at the hilltop is a vantage view of luxury boats and British battle ships. Haaa the amalgamation of technology and nature, man and God working together in brief harmony. The water is scenic even though common sense tells you that its chilly and holds sharp rocks beneath. Somehow it was warmer than Birmingham and the breeze a little more gentle, so I marked Plymouth off as a worthwhile trip.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Bloody Hell we got next!!!!

First off, i enter the bathroom of my shared apartment and there's hanging next to the heater, stylish black female underwear and L'oreal Paris."Hi i'm Chantelle". Bloody Hell!!!!

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Of orange juices, fat beefs and exodus Thoughts

Too much on my mind- like the junk house of clutter my rooms were last weekend midway into phase two of evacuation plans. I never liked moving-even for all the times I’ve gone through the process. I’ve been told that’s good and bad. Good because it makes me a dependable friend (*wink*) and bad, cos as my room was, so do I keep too much junk! So whilst I’m clearing up my physical space, here’s a random to hopefully clear up some of the mental sphere too. Hence, this might be a long post as I grab a cup of juice,steaming microwoven sausage beef rolls, kick back and slip in a random. Not necessarily a T.Notes, just an offloading.

So the office organized a sendforth for me yesterday. Weird cos I’m still working thereafter till Thursday! Got gifts and some hmmm, glowing comments! Then again people are obliged to say good stuff about you when you’re near leaving their space! Teehee!. A general consensus though was the mystery of “Heck,where do you go to on Fridays after work?!!!”Lol. That was a funny bit. See, people usually join me for a ride home during the week, but i’ve had a long standing rule that on Fridays, I carry no commuters! Hence there’s always been joke in the office that “T.Notes does not go straight on Fridays o!” At the M.D’s closing comments, (cos everybody got a chance to talk about me), he leaned forward and asked, “so T.Notes, tell me honestly now, where do you go to on Fridays?!” I laughed it off with a mischievous wink! Go figure jare!

Waiting for the tears to overwhelm!

This is one bit that I am passionate about, so if you’re earnestly reading, you might want to grab your own juice or coffee too. I’ll be leaving Naija in less than two weeks, and for all that have asked when I’m returning, I’ve staunchly maintained that ‘not for a long time’. The plans are somewhat complicated but the simplest bit to understand is that it starts with an M.Sc in Birmingham, the thereafter is another long T.Notes. My inclinations are not due to the regular want/desire to travel out of the country, I’ve been there, done that and got the t-shirts. I’ve just more of concluded with a lot of bitterness that this country just isn’t doing it for me anymore. I’m sad about it, factly, I’m sad about my exit. Not sad because I’m going to miss home, but sad in a sort of “shake your head in pity sort of way”. I’ve had dreams for this country, I’ve served the country and for all of my efforts and tall aspiration, I look back and it seems that all I can recount is “sophisticated suffering”. Seriously, no pun there.

I saliently comment everytime we drive home from work and I see someone hawking stuff on the road. Things like a sausage roll, which cost less than a dollar, or toffees and sweets or sachet water- all under a dollar and even more appalling when compared to a British pound. You’d see these people sweating under the scorching sun, many times racing to catch up with a vehicular customer, and I just wonder that at the end of the day, how much could they possibly rake back home? A thousand, two thousand nairas? It saddens me. This country could offer so much more yet us citizens live in abject poverty! And we’re all included-even us with our seeming posh cars and nice apartments, it’s all a bloody lie. Have you ever done the math with your take home pay and concluded on how much of that fat salary goes into expenses monthly? Its crazy! Generator bills, maintaining car, buying food. I feel it’s totally unfair. Yesterday we were talking and comparing Nigeria to South Africa and…there just isn’t any comparison! I could go on and on, and in conclusion still just feel embittered and cheated by this country.

I read recently that there are two types of immigrants, especially with Africans leaving abroad. The first (who migrated there voluntarily) live in depression, feeling like second rate citizens and having to put up with subtle and insubtle discrimation-whilst wishfully dreaming of back home. The second are the ones who were born in their land of exile and so never really knew much of home in the first place so they have nothing to miss. The new land is home to them and they acclimatize. I choose now to include a third set and if they don’t already exist, I’ll be the progenitor of the tribe. These third are those that left home embittered. Maybe because they suffered back home, or just maybe they knew all along that the so called luxury they lived in was a miry deception. We sought for more from home and even tried to apply ourselves to make things better but home just wouldn’t receive our efforts. Why because the professionals we worked with were comfortable with their mediocrity and viewed your new knowledge as a threat even when we ourselves know all too well that that which we know is still lacking to some degree. (There's still a long way to go with our professional endevours in Naija. Alot of it right now is pure bullocks) Why, because some politicians are comfortable siphoning funds that belong to citizens then grading our lekki express way and ask us to pay 100Naira as toll! I mean, what sort of wickedness is that?!!!If I ply lekki five times a day, would I pay you 500buks, and then two thousand five hundred in a week? How much in a month, after I have dutifully paid my tax!!!I am bitter…sad…I could go on and on-about infrequent power, which still gets to me. You get back home after two hours in traffic, set a meal, sit back to watch some t.v, then wham, lights go off! It’s not fair!!!!Even Ghana isn’t half as bad with the light situation! I still pay a local community borehole to pipe drinking water to my house. Go figure cos i live in the city o! Parkview estate still remains one of the priciest locations even for all the contours and floods along the road.

I’ll leave this note there, it’s getting me upset, depressed.

On a brighter closing T.Notes, Yayyy I got a new laptop!!!Check out the Sexy Beast!

Never really been a laptop person. Been comfy with my flatscreens. This came as a gift, else would have gone for the bigger models, but it'l do. *Mwuah*. The consequent is I might be offline for a while, cos it won’t make sense getting internet connection for two weeks and do same again when I exit. Gooosh, gonna miss blogger few days I’m off connection! Stupid how blooger’s become like home. Stupid site’s gone and got me addicted to blogging, commenting and some cool people around here. You don’t wanna know some of the cool interactions (*evil wink*, but get your minds out of the gutter) and altercations I’ve had consequent to blogger. I’ve spoken on phone to some intelligent people, like wow! Gotten FAKE wedding invites from others! (You know yourself, just await my retaliation), got addicted to chatting online with some, constantly having fun stalking some pages, and learning, yes learning amazing things from reading some blogs! Blogsville Naija rocks jare! Good to know that’s one constant thing that will be making this move with me. Sooo people, if I am infrequent around here, don’t even for a second think I am out of your necks!!!Lai Lai! Me that I will soon start campaigning for president of Blogsville! Will just be doing best towards making that move and settling down in new place.

Till next T.notes, gosh nothing like home-made sausage! Juice please!

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Memoirs of a certified Shrink

Music Playing: Frank Sinatra: My Way.
On another T.notes, here's another dose from Memoirs. (Of which you need to be signed up there. Copying posts on two blogs is hard work!Yeah and you'll find 1st bit there too.)

21st August 2010: Doth Hell have fury?

What will you do if (or should I say, ‘when’) you walk into your home to find the proverbial significant other in bed with another woman? I have always considered that question overrated so I never gave it much thought, maybe if I did it’d have given me some background for my own reaction. Certainly I could have hurled the s%ut out of my tub by her hair, drag her down the ten flights of stairs and make a public disgrace of the harlot. And my boyfriend? Axe off his tumescent member, thrash his apartment then finish up by slashing his tires. I did none of those, instead I just stood gaping, frozen in place for what seemed like eternity whilst he hurried out of the tub and wrapped a towel about his waist. He even slipped her a towel too-can you imagine the nerve!

“C, I can explain…” He began to mutter. My brain found use, managed to process and relay that I was about to be fed the commonest cliché of all time.

“Bloody hell!” I retorted, or more like whispered in a mix of shock and building angst. Then my phone rang. I spun out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

‘Don’t you even dare delay for one second.’ My mind scrambled up a desperate wish even for all the anger I knew I was supposed to be feeling. ‘He had better open that door and come after me immediately!’
At the same time, my hands trembled as I sought out the shrilling blackberry and viewed the caller i.d- Dr Samiu, chief psychologist at the Institute (which I will shed light on later). The phone felt like hot iron searing through my brain as I answered the call.

“Where have you been?” He barked. “I’ve been paging you for the past twenty minutes!”

“Something came up…I’m not feeling too well right now.” I attempted the feeble response which I didn’t expect to go anywhere really.

Hurrying footsteps behind me- J had dressed up and was racing down the hallway. It didn’t count anymore, he needed to have come naked or at the very least in the towel. I returned my attention to the phone call remembering now that I was supposed to be meeting the chief twenty minutes ago.
“Whatever came up, make it go back down and get back here immediately.” He finalized on my behalf.

“C, please wait.” J hollered meters away. The elevator pinged open; I dodged inside. It shut just as J reached it. I let out a sigh of relief.

‘Bloody hell!’ I muttered again in disbelief as the images I’d just witnessed replayed in my mind. The voice on the phone crackled with static. Shoot, Dr Samiu!
“Hello?” I’d lost connection. Dr Samiu is not known for owning a mild temper, but what the heck, neither was I right now! For Christ’s sake, I hadn’t even opened up that strawberry musk before the s%ut got her grimy hands on them! I muffled a depressed moan.

The elevator descended to the ground floor and I could have sworn I heard all my dreams and hopes shatter beneath the metallic vacuum. I did best to muster what was left of my dignity and stepped out into the foyer. J appeared within same instant at the base of the stairs. He was sweating and panting from the dash. My man, looking all like the hero racing to rescue his estranged lover. Asshole!

“C, please…remember we never walk out on an agreement. Just give me a minute and…let’s talk about this.”
My brief pause.

“Go to hell!” I finally retorted.

The pickup car rolled to a stop by the complex entrance. I stepped in, shut the door and looked the other way as we drove out.

No tears…at least none yet.

So that’s how my story begins.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

The Memoirs of a Twenty Something Certfied Shrink

Introductions :Of Bulgarian Bathrooms and Veterinary Needles

21st August 2010

There used to be a bath tub on display in the furniture store just next to shoprite at the Palms shopping mall in lekki. Its not the regular type that you inset into a wall space; its one of those stand alone types. Sort of like the medieval wooden tubs, but this is made of modern shiny bathroom ceramic and sits on four handcrafted golden stands. It comes with a classic stand to affix your hand shower tubes and hold your soaps and things. A work of art for a certainly not too cushy price, and we were the two art lovers who would stop by daily during our mid-workday snack to spend thirty minutes oogling and coveting the beauty. Our plan – to possess it and have it sit right in the middle of our currently furniture-less living room, just waiting for a planned night of aromatic scents, colored candles and micheal bubble serenading in the background.

Well,we got the bathtub eventually; the night of aromatic scents, colored candles and micheal bubble certainly came to be all just as planned except for one missing vital piece – me! Well at least me not being in the bathtub as envisioned. There I was-fully clothed, watching the whole thing happen- every bit as sensual as we imagined- except with a livid me staring from the outside - shocked as hell.
The bloody bathtub cost four hundred and thirty five thousand nairas! Convert that to dollars and let your head spin. Yet nonetheless, we opened up a specific Stanbic IBTC Bank account for the purpose of purchasing that bathtub and its accessories. And for three months, we both had an allocated allowance that went into savings- yes, all for the bathtub (We are dead serious like that). I guess what we could have also been dead serious about was putting in fine print the obvious idea that this was a bathtub for TWO- i.e, man and woman, me and him, not him and her or him, me and her, or even her and her! I mean, I would have figured that anybody doesn’t need a soothsayer to interpret that when two people save to purchase something as intimate as a bathtub, its only expected by both parties (well maybe only the naïve woman, as I am finding out) that the two savees own exclusive right of usage to the property. I mean, who buys a bathtub for another woman to come and soak inside?!!!Ask my boyfriend J!

The apartment is in Parkview estate, that’s somewhere along Osborne, ikoyi. It’s a luxury block of flats and trust me, you don’t want to know how much that cost too. But that’s just the thing, all I can do these days is think of all of the cost that have been invested into this me and him business and the fact that we’d split every cost, fifty-fifty to make it happen. Car purchase- fifty-fifty, future in-laws weekend visits, fifty-fifty, Christmas vacations trips, fifty-fifty and the list goes on and on like that. Right down to my heart that I am staring at right now split into two equal halves, one part left soaking in the bathtub, and the other half in my hands not believing how my world is spinning to a bloody crash right now. All the while, I have been fair about this relationship, accepting this fifty-fifty business even when I could have imposed my right as a woman and negotiate say at least seventy-thirty, but look where its gotten me, I’m at the bloody short end of the stick!

I will attempt to put my indignation aside for now and skip you quickly to the present reality.

You would think that some clichés have been so long overplayed that they could never possibly play out in reality. But I guess even I should know better. I should have known better as I sauntered with casual enthusiasm down the hallway to room 401, our soon to be apartment. I carried a brown paper bag which held another bevy of bathroom accessories, a buying that had become my indulgence the past two weeks since when we finally purchased same dream Bulgarian bathtub. The bathtub did live up to its billing in that today it did indeed become a vital element of our story albeit however, to become probably the star attraction to the conclusion of our tale. Or better put, the star attraction of a R21 porn flick!

I keyed open the door that day, not expecting anybody to be home. J was supposed to be out of town. I would quickly drop the bathroom goodies and hurry back to the office. But J was not out of town, so Bulgarian bathtub was snidely telling me. There were small puddles of soapy water around the gold base stand and the room smelled extra nice. I picked up the scent of strawberry musk - I had bought those oils last week. I had probably also purchased the bath soaps which bubbled out of the water filling the tub. The two occupants within initially did not notice my presence. J was apparently naked and comfortably soaked inside the tub, his head thrown back and eyes closed. The reason for his enchanted reverie arose from the bubbles like an Egyptian goddess ascending from the river nile. Long hair, full breasts and envious legs one of which lifted up slowly as she stood tall and rested a right leg on the side of *moan* Bulgarian bathtub, then simultaneously thrusting the cleft of her hips into J’s face. He accepted the gesture with open palms, and that was when the paper bag dropped from my hands and clattered to the floor.


Hi People...

In short words,thats an intro from a little casual project i'll be indulging hence. To be privy to subsequent going-ons in Memoir, click here and Follow.
*Wink, you know you wanna* I promise, this time, i will be consistent! And ehmm, we'll discuss more on this later.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Random Fridays, some R18s.

So folks were around on Thursday night whilst sex and the city was on. I realize that you never get old enough not to cringe when someone uses the word “masturbate” with your parents closeby. Even worse is trying to enjoy a good sex scene. Weird + * shivers*.Brrrr!

Talking about sex and the city, it seems that everywhere I turn these days,some1 is talking about ATM!I used to think I was sexually liberated, but the more I consider ATM, the more I want to gag! Yiiish, ATM, how?!!!Many experiments and experiences, I am kinkily open to, but this one…ehmmm,I dunno o!!!

On a more sexually acceptable note, help!!!I close my eyes these days and all I see are long legs spread eagle next to a waiting steaming bag of French fries and cool ketchup. *Hmmm dinner is served*!Dang! Bear with me, this was initially horny Thursday post.

In Italy, we say: 'Vedi Napoli e poi muori'!!! In english: 'See Naples and die'. i.e, be so much overwhelmed by the wonder and beauty that is the city Naples! CluelessinStils,you brought this wonder back to my mind. *Sighhhh*
*insert google popular opinion*:some have argued that what the phrase really means is that Naples is such a dangerous and chaotic city that it will kill you!)lwkmf!Try Las Gidi!

I plan to do some major reorganizing of my life. I’ve been told lately that I’m way too serious, too intense and career oriented. With certain changes, my next job will cum my finance skills and my writing respite. T.Notes Affirmation: I will get my next job in the finance dept of a media/arts oriented company. This consultancy business sef,wahala too much, everybody expects you to know everything! I’m thinking CNN, BBC, Sky, or flatly theater. No joke, I will live this life to the max. Don’t try me, I back up my talk with action! Wait n see.

Have you read Cindy Trim’s book? One of the fastest growing art forms today is called “spoken word”, Throngs of people gather in clubs, schools, cafes, church auditoriums, stadiums and theaters just to hear the poetic, pulsating rhyme spoken by artists who by virtue of their creativity and talent move audiences to emotional highs and lows merely by what comes out of their mouth. Like painters creating moving masterpieces in vibrant colors, these artists “paint” on the canvass of the human soul. *Awesome*

Do u know what I think would rock hard? A blogger’s poetry jam/spoken word exhibition. Get the best of us lot to do some few minutes off-head lyricism. If you are entirely clueless, check out poetry jams on youtube or google the nuyorican. #1fan! I tried putting together one of such last year, we’d planned venue at icecream factory, we were literally gonna bring that place down, but were at a loss for quality writers. Then…I found blogsvillenaija. I can already see it in my head now...!Dang i love theater!

Speaking about collaborative efforts, does anybody here read memoirs of a slu…shhkid on 360nobs?!*NUTS* Gotta admit, Mr noble over there is fast becoming some sort of self proclaimed celebrity! The guy can definitely tell a story. Truth or fables, he’s pulling a neat crowd! I actually think 360nobs is fast outshining bellanaija.

MC Hammer style boxers are no good for the nuts. This was a mistake! That's what happens when you're behind on laundry days!

ATM =....I can't even bring myself to write it!

Monday, August 2, 2010

Of Quickies, Newbies and Absentiee Bloggers!

You remember how good an impromptu quickie feels like???You're dressed up for church and waiting for your missus to finish up her makeup. You know you're running late,for god's sake, she ought to hurry already. She appears, and your breath briefly siezes!Gosh,she looks like something right out of GQ!Short brown dress,low v-cut around the bust, her hairs cropped into a cute bun,she's drapped a white scarf around her neck, red lipstick and high heels. You get up and dang,you know you're going to be late!

Ehmmm,so i had a smashing weekend!
Dirty minds!We camped out after church at my pal's place. They just got married; we've given them well enough time and space to finish up their dirty. Wife's preggy for proof! Sunday was for grubs and movies!We saw "unthinkable" with Samuel L. Jackson!Awesome!!!!Great times with friends, thats what good days are made of!

Moving on!

A toast n a quickie welcome to these snatzy sounding newcomers:
Clueless in Stiletos
Broken Wings

For those who haven't spotted them,be busybody like me!!!

And on another T.notes,BLOGGER'S GETTING DRY N BORINGGGGG!!!!PEOPLE,UPDATE YOUR PAGES FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!Yiiish,blog rounds these days is such a bore!!!

Matter of fact,think i'll institute my own T.Notes awards for most outstanding weekly blogs. Do you know the power bloggers around the world are wielding these days?People need to be thinking around the box...think think outside the box people!On a personal T.Notes,in a little while,i'll be up-ing my game on a certain project i've got scheming in mind and *evil wink*,i'll be looking for some colorful writers to come aboard. Exclusive VIP invites and i ain't afraid to break all politically correct rules!People with spunk,thats my bag!

T.Notes to Talkaholic,got your mail,we'll need to talk further later. My mind's foggy for now.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Songs about Jane: Speed writing till I scream

Like the desert needs the rain…Then I digress.

I woke up feeling like the lead actor on the set of a Hollywood romcom (romantic comedy). Saturday morning, and the sun was winking hello through my windows overhead. I had no plans for the day, none of the dately Lagos engagements, no weekend meetings, so I could stretch out in this lushness for as long as my body demanded. And stretching out next to me was the better part of the deal. There’s truly something about waking up next to a beautiful woman. I leaned over an idyllic elbow to appreciate the wonder of my woman’s near naked body.

She’s tall and slender like me, and she was wearing my favorite purple lace underwear. I bit my lip as I followed through her subtle curves all the way down to her butt checks strutting out proudly a little beneath. Supple, clean skin- I swear a woman with impeccable hygiene standards should be honored above most. Ask a man what he wouldn’t do for or to her. (How I’ve been celibate for four years now is still totally beyond me.) She’s got cute breasts, which in the hay days used to drive me nuts as I remember once fervently praying them just a wee bit plumier. But in my matureness, I consider them the feat of her anatomic artistry. They remind me of a double pack of exotic cupcakes with the proudest and roundest currant dropped right in the middle. Well of course you can imagine that over the years I’ve grown an affinity for cupcakes. *Bite me*

Literal paper mold remains from chocolate royal cupcakes and blue bunny ice-cream did litter the foot of the bed just beneath the flat screen where we’d pitched cozy tent for our regular Friday night movies. She stirred and observed with an open eye that I’d been indulging early morning eye candies and daydreaming thereof. “We should get you a rubber for your roaming mind”, she murmured with a smile. Gosh I love her wit! I spanked fleshy cuppycakes as I leaned over her-turgid beneath-, “Don’t tease”. and planted a small kiss-just like in the movies then got off the bed and into the notional arms of my blinking laptop.

I could have sworn I heard God’s big toe tip tapping to Louis Armstrong’s “What a wonderful Life” as I keyed in my intro:

“Songs about Jane: Speed writing till I scream…”

Another day...Hope sometimes is painful.

How to serve a woman a dose of literal thrill (2)...whatever.

I really can barely concentrate…
My mind’s a whirlpool…
My stomach’s all up in knots…
I’m behind on my work deliverables…
But all that just don’t matter for now. Maybe I’m selfish, maybe I just suck at dealing with stress…
Maybe I’ll digress, write again to ease my soul….

P.S, 1st Part Here.

The urgent strike on the front door is repeated with more urgent intensity. Jagun slams his weight against the wooden doors and rams the bolts into place.

Jagun: (Mutters) Fuck.
Voice on other side of the door: Open this door, I’m your darn Calvary!
Jagun: (With matching authority) Who are you?
Officer: Sergeant Samkoro. I saw the whole thing. The mob will be here in less than ten minutes. I'ts not going to be a pretty sight.
Jagun: (Mutters) Who can you fucking trust in the Nigerian Police force?
He starts to open the door, but Temi rushes to him-she’s now frantic, and stops him. He eases her away, opens the door slowly to allow the mouth of the shotgun tip first at the newcomer. The officer in turn jerks the weapon aside, rushes in and slams the door shut, bolting it back into place.

Office (with urgency): You’re all dead meat. Do you have a back exit and does any street cut out of this close?
Jagun: No. It’s a dead end here. The only way out is through the front door, down the same main road. Can you tell me what is going on here!
Officer: (Motions briefly at Temi who’s now crouched in a corner by the wall whimpering) Your wife here is a mad woman. But that is besides the point. There must be over a hundred bikes racing down here as we speak, and a truck carrying the carcass of the body she dismembered. There’s also rubber tyres and petrol; it’s going to be jungle justice.
Jagun: Not if I have anything to say about it. You got a weapon?
Officer (hoisting out a small worn out pistol): You want to shoot your way through a hundred area boys and agberos?
Jagun: (Moving about the small house sealing all windows) I’ll shoot through a thousand of them to keep my family alive.
Officer: (Following after Jagun) What in heaven have I gotten myself into now? Listen, the best we can do right now is negotiate our way into a police station. My Quarters is on the next street. We’ll get her police protection whilst we work the mess into a court of law. It’ll stall time.
Jagun: Safe that talk for another time. Here’s my plan. My wife and my five year old kid, we’re getting them to my office in Parkview tonight-we’ve got immigration papers there. They’re boarding the next available flight to Britain.
Officer: (Urgently) Are you not listening to me?! There’s no way we can get past those thugs heading here. Can you hear the bikes now?
Jagun: I’ll kill the whole lot if I have to.
(Turns briefly to Temi) Baby, listen to me. Go stay with Semi in her room. When I call for you, you both come out. Till then, stay put!
Temi nods weakly and rushes into the room. Simultaneously, the sound of the entrance gate being pounded into reverberates through the house.
Officer: (Laughing) Are you certain where you’re headed to when you die? Now might be the time to redeem your soul.
Jagun: (Adjoining laugh) Not tonight cowboy, not tonight.

A large stone hurls through a glass and lands smack in the middle of the living room. Jagun crouches underneath the shattered window, positions his weapon, then leaps up and in a brief moment, fires a shot. A six foot broad shouldered man on the other side is thrown down with certain force. There’s a brief quiet on the outside, then the roar immediately intensifies with carnal angst.

Man: E sa na si!!!!(Light it up!!!)

Tuesday, July 27, 2010 n my nerves.

Taco: Taco?
Jane: Fuck you.
Taco: Try it with some lettuce and tomatoes; it helps calms frayed nerves.
Jane (mutters): Stuff it up your ass.
Taco: Stuffing something up your ass, I would consider- if we persist like this much longer. I swear all of your spunk is turning me on one fifty degrees down there.
He moves close to trail a lecherous finger across her face.
Taco: What would you look like on all fours? Me slapping your hot behind, you screaming out my name, begging me to stop.
He leans close, his breath spewing into her face.
Taco: I can go at it all night till I’m sure you’re carrying my fertile seed. And I know your dumb faith will not make you see the sense in aborting it. What do you think, a love-to-hate keep sake replacement from the scumbag who fucked up your life.
She’s quiet.
Taco: We can make it all end more agreeably. Tell me what I need to know and I’ll walk away; you’d never see me again.
Jane: You might as well kill me then.
Taco: Nah. Not going to let off a martyr to go singing in the clouds. Jane, you’re pushing my patience.
He bites into a handful of taco with bits of it splattering about the place.
Jane: She’s only five years old.
Taco (Barks with sudden intensity): I don’t give a shit! You should have thought about that before feeding her my diamonds! I want my money and I want it now! Where the fuck is she?!And you know it doesn’t make any difference what happens here tonight. I’d still find her; she’d still be cut open and you’d still live with the blood on your hands.
Jane (Emotionally): I told you I didn’t do it on purpose! Give me more time and I’d pay you off.
He lets off a rabid scream simultaneously kicking a chair to the ground. Without warning, her grabs her face and rams a blow into it. She topples over hitting her head hard to the bare ground. The chair she’s strung to catches her fall in an akward position; She stifles a pained cry.
Taco: Don’t you understand that I don’t have time either! The sharks are breathing down my neck. In a few more days I’d be staring lifeless at seaweed if I don’t come up with the loot. And don’t think you’d be let off, because they’d come for you too. How the heck could you allow a child swallow fifty million Dollars?!
Jane: (with equal fervor): How can you live with yourself killing a five year old for money!
Taco: There are ways to get it done. I have a guy who’s skilled at it. He’s worked with smugglers for years; she’ll have a sixty percent chance of surviving. Its better than nought.
Jane: You’ll never find her; you might as well kill me.
Taco (wipes a straying bead of sweat and motions at his accomplice girlfriend): Untie her legs, tie her hands to the table. I’m fucking horny, I need release.
Meryl: You’re going to fuck her- right in front of me?
Taco: You can wait outside; I won’t be long.
Meryl (hisses) You’re despicable. And you know if not for the money, I’d have left you long time ago.
She moves to do his bidding. Jane muffles screams through her trying to resist Meryl’s handling. In the process, a childish scream is heard from within the house, coming from the inner rafters of the ceiling. All three quietten. Taco smiles.
Jane (with loud urgency) Baby run!!!!Leave the house now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, July 26, 2010

How to serve a woman a dose of literal thrill.

This one’s for all of my blogger peeps who are going thru some rough patches right now. You know yourselves. Much Love from T.Notes! See,I’m really a nice guy when you get to know me.
I dedicate to ya’ll my old time fav song by The Corrs: Though u stumble on tomorrow and trip over today, everything’s gonna turn out just fine. We’ll do fine! (Just you wait). And an especially dedicated shoutout n prayer to my homegirl,nifty neefemi and trusty YankeeNaija whom i'm praying hasn't given up on me entirely!

So, as for me, when my days are in such a mess, I roll up my sleeves, squelch up my eyebrows and do some intense thrill writing, such as this! Enjoy.

Midday Saturday.
House 43,Osborne Foreshore close.
Jagun, clad only in denim boxer shorts, is outside sweating away trimming off rough garden edges. He notices up ahead a 2005 toyota matrix lumbering haphazardly down the street towards him. He recognizes the car, drops the garden shears and moves close to intercept the incomer. The car parks with a sharp jam of brakes and his now delirious wife spills out from the driver’s sit. He observes with horrified expression the badly cracked windshield with thick blood splattered across the stained glass.

Jagun: (Mutters as he nears her) What-the-fuck?!
He rushes to catch her fall out of the car. She appears badly shaken up and near hysteric.
Jagun: (With urgent concern,looking her over) Baby…are you ok?
Temi: Yes…yes…I think so. But he isn’t….(breaks into tears) he isn’t ok at all Jagun, he isn’t! We need to leave; we need to get out of here before they get to us.
Jagun(Confused) : Who’s they?
Temi: They’re coming after me. With matchet and rubber tyres and petrol. Where’s Semilore; we need to get her and leave now.
She disentangles herself from his grip and hurried chaotically into the house. Jagun takes one last shocked look at the damaged car then hurried in after her.
Jagun (with take-charge demeanor) Baby, I need to know what happened! Was it an accident, if then, we need to contact the police immediately.
Temi: (Walks about the room without clear direction) Yes…No…Yes… No, it wasn’t an accident. I saw him up ahead and I hit full throttle. I didn’t stop until I was staring at his jacked up skull from the other side of my windscreen.
Jagun stifles an apparent gasp.
Temi: …Then he got thrown over the hood of the car, landed some meters behind me.
Jagun: (Weakly) But it was an accident, wasn’t it?
Temi: No. I reversed, had to ensure. So I ran over him a few times till I was sure, then I speed off. And then the mob picked chase. They’re coming after me baby, we need to leave now.
She hurries into the room calling out for her two year old daughter.
Jagun: (Follows after her) She’s sleeping, don’t wake her up.
He finally catches up with her and reins her in with a firm grasp.
Jagun: You seriously need to calm down so we can sort this out rationally!
Temi: (Looking about madly) Yes yes. I’ll need some anti-depresants. Do we have any-lexotan, valium?
Jagun: (Firmly)No! You can’t any of those right now; I need you to stay wide awake and alert.
Temi: Ok ok, that’s true. Then fuck me baby. You know how you do me good-standing up from the rear. A quick one-we still have some five minutes to spare.
She pulls in close,arching towards him.
There’s an urgent bang on the front door, causing the two to jerk towards the sounds. Temi, with wide eyes.
Jagun releases her with exasperation, then rushes into the room and return just as soon wielding a shotgun and a smaller pistol. He corks the shotgun and marches to the window.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

My Absence ;-(

Nifty Neefemi!
Musco My Main Man!


LOL. Don't be fooled,in real life, my yoruba in majorly sucks, its an embarrassment!!!


Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Vuvuzelas For T.Notes Newbies!!!

This wee post welcomes aboard every T.notes newbie!Yayyyy You!!!!

How you found your way to this deranged end of blogsphere,i could possibly never figure out!
N what possessed you to hit that "follow" button is entirely beyond me!

But nonetheless,because T.Notes WestEnd Theater is all about the audience,we're ushering right to the upper gallery velvet VIP chairs (you wan try?!)where you'd find this little presentation below waiting for you!!!

So,watcha think uh? *wink*wink*!

Some of you i know before like:
The Ever Classy Cricket (you gotta love)!P.S, Pay me girl,for the free publicity!
N some i wish i could spy your face like ChinnyUgoji and Tayo Ojelade.
N others just plain out rock -just because i say so-, i.e TechnicoleurGrl,young grumbler et all!
Oh yeah,n there's naija homegirl sisiyemmie whom i don't think i've sent a welcome note b4??

If i no include your name abeg no crucify me!


P.S. If you think that's my picture,somebody needs to get your head out from under the rock! NO BI MISTAKE OOOO,EEEEEHHHHH!!!!

P.S Again. I just had this amazzzzzing idea on writing!!!Pay me to share!

P.S Again Again. I need to update a real post!

Friday, July 9, 2010


Headphone Playing right now: Laureen Hill’s EX-Factor, Can’t take my eyes off you,…!!!!The Shizzle!!!!

Then I go off on a tangent….

TN: How old are you?
Dr I: Close to thirty.
TN (Nods): I’m fifty two, meaning I have surpassed your years of living by some thirty two. How much of life do you really think you can tutor me on?
Dr I (smiles): I have dedicated those seeming small years of mine to learning all there is to know about life. I’m certain I could let you in on a few- if you would let me in.
TN (Shifts slowly): Young ones. Were you around at the times of the war?
Dr: No. Was that a traumatic time for you?
TN: I was ten years old then. A ten year old huddled with his father, mother and two year old sister under a wooden table as bombs rained from the skies down onto our ramshackle villages. What were the odds that our then mud hut never got hit once?
Dr I: Some might say fate had other plans in store for you; you were not destined to die then. My job is to keep you alive another few years.
TN: The odds, If you’re unable to do the math, I will help you. Bombs dropped by the hour, say two every hour. They were strategic. You can model a poison distribution there and calculate the probability that an insignificant family would not be disintegrated in one day.
Dr I: I get your point.
TN: No you don’t. Life is like that sometimes, most times. The issues and the paining anxieties don’t let up. You’re done with one and just as soon, something else goes wrong. Makes you wonder if the ancient Greek pantheons aren’t still running things up there, having a field day testing just how much a man can take. How much can you take?
Dr I: I-
TN (Cuts her off): You loose your job, then somehow you survive- make it through, but before you’re done heaving a sigh of relief, you loose your child- the irony of what we’d give to take back what we lost. In the midst of your mourning, you sprain a bad knee, then you get a fat insurance reprieve, then something else goes wrong again. Missile after bomb after Missile, they were bent on wiping us out. It’s how they say, we wondered if God hadn’t tire of us.
Dr I: I understand.
TN: No you don’t. You don’t try to understand when life seeks to pull you apart and tear you down. You just hold on to your portion of that wooden table leg, dead quiet. Hoping that your muffled whimper would not attract the next air strike. How many tears have you cried in your days?
Dr I: We have all had our share of pain.
TN: Some more than the others. What if your next medical check up diagnosed you with cancer? Would your preppy skirts and cushy diagnosis still make any sense to you?
She’s quiet.
TN: Under that table…with my heart skipping a beat at the sound of every bomb that exploded, wondering if my friend Adjan’s hut hadn’t just been taken apart…the only consolation was within this.
He shows her his open palm.
TN: Circled in his, my father held my hands tight. Every now and then he would look my way, not say anything. He didn’t have to say a word, just be near, waiting under that table with me….waiting for life to either end or…
He stubbornly wipes a tear.
TN:Don’t diagnose me; don’t try to explain what I am going through. Don’t tell me you understand, don’t quote religious doctrines or another hopeful theme…If you are not God enough to turn the tyranny of my life’s tides, then just be there with me…wait with me…till this one bout of air strike is over. And if I cry, don’t be alarmed, tomorrow I promise I will be strong again….yes tomorrow.

She’s quiet, then drops her books and moves in close to reach out for his now frailing hands.


Hope is…waiting for the Sun to shine again..someday…someday soon…Hope is.

9/7/10 n counting.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Soulcast is Gone?!!!WHAT?!!!Noooooooooooooooo!!!! (the Don-Chi Chi of all blog sites) is now showing "500 - Internal Server Error!!!!"
News is all over catch22 (Boring Wannabe Sister blogg site) and they seem to be mocking about it!
No No Nooooooooooooo!!!!!
What is going on here?!!!!This is a joke right?!!!

Oh,oops false alarm! Its on now!!!Tee hee!!!

That begs the question. It happened to windows live blogging site. System seemed to have gone overload and it got shut down. Millions lost their blogs n contacts. Hmmm, what if blogger crashed???

Just a Spoonful of Dildo...Sorry Dido! (T.Notes Rambles2)

See first part here.

Mary’s in India
It was just recently I was told that in this song, she was saying “Danny”, not “Daddy”. This was four years after I had overkilled the cd, and I was having my “OMG Moment”! It’s a sort of sad story of three people-two women and a man. Oh, I also love the fact that she uses matured people for her songs, makes moi feel involved. Ehmmm,it’s a little hard to reckon with Justin Biener these days!

Anyways, the story is, Danny was dating Mary, but Mary’s a free spirit so she leaves him and backpacks to India with no forewarning. Danny’s heartbroken and in the process turns to Dido –Mary’s friend for consolation. We get the impression which she doesn’t say expressly that consolation leads to something else, which in my opinion just serves Mary right!

Danny is lonely
Mary's in India now
She said she'd call but that was three weeks ago
She left all her things well, her books and her letters from him
But as the sun rises on Mary, it sets on him

Danny's not eating, he's drinking and sleeping
I saw him last night at party, he's definitely thin

Danny came over last night and I cooked for him
He talked about you Mary and how much we loved you still
He told me he's packed up your books and your letters and things
But as the sun sets on Mary, it's rising on him

And we danced, and we drank
And I've seen something you probably never got the chance to see
Don't worry, Mary
Cause I'm taking care of Danny
And he's taking care of me

I absolutely love the end!!!Its like Dido winks at Mary and says “don’t worry, I’m “taking” care of danny for you”!Question is, what exactly is taking care!!!
Sigh, this song resonated for me in the 90s. Sort of funny now that I reminisce. My very very good friend (Mary here) packed up and left without warning. I became the danny, and for me, ehmmm, Dido was her sister. Long story, which I choose not to tell incase she reads this page!!!!Do LDR’s really really ever work out??I have my doubts, at least from my experiences. Not that it isn’t possible, its just that…well, Mary’s all the way in India, India for heaven’s sake!!!

See the sun again
Wow. Can I even begin to talk about this??The title is explanatory enough. It was a bonus track on the life for rent album. If you haven’t heard it, rush to youtube now, or as we say in lasgidi, get ya copy nowww!!!
See the sun again is a song of hope. I have sang it for what, ten years now???I have sang it when I lay in bed physically sick, sang it in times of heart ache, sang it as I walked towards a killer exam hall, countless times I have included it into my gospel et motivational repertoire and therein encouraged myself. Need I say more but drop the full lyrics:

I'm comin' 'round to open the blinds
You can't hide here any longer
My God you need to rinse those puffy eyes
You can't last here any longer

And yes they'll ask you where you've been
And you'll have to tell them again and again

And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
Well I promise you you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
And I promise you you'll see the sun again

Come on take my hand
We're going for a walk, I know you can
You can wear anything as long as it's not black
Please don't mourn forever
She's (or it’s) not coming back

And yes they'll ask you where you've been
And you'll have to tell them again and again

And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
Well I promise you you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
And I promise you you'll see the sun again
And I promise you you'll see the sun again

Do you remember telling me you found the sweetest thing of all
You said one day this was worth dying for
So be thankful you knew her at all
But it's no more

And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
Well I promise you you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
And I promise you you'll see the sun again
And I promise you you'll see the sun again
And I promise you you'll see the sun again
And I promise you you'll see the sun again
I promise you you'll see the sun again

See the sun again
See the sun again
See the sun again

FINALE!!!!Don’t leave home!!!!
This is no revelation; it’s however my own tiny pun!!!My connotation is not encouraging you “not to leave home”, instead I am saying “LEAVE HOMEEEEE!”
For my fellow Nigerians who have hope for this country, I guess we will butt heads in another post-maybe you might infect some of it on me. Because as for me and the things I have seen, my hope for this our dear land diminishes everyday and I dare say the song I sing is not “Don’t leave home”, instead its sadly “Please leave home”! Its not the finest conclusion,and I have had this sort of conversation with many of my friends whom we have traveled and returned with the hope of settling back at home thinking, “Lets give back to home, things will be better”. And time after time, I have taken poll and am yet to see one who hasn’t rescinded that decision.

The premise of this particular impression is the floods that covered Victoria island (Lagos) yesterday after a day of heavy rains. Mind you, Victoria island is supposedly the choicest locations in las gidi, yet we were more or the outsiders living in Noah’s floods yesterday! I could put a picture next time, but picture the mental image of water going right up to the bonnet of your car-right in the middle of the most commercial districts!!! I don’t know where we are going!!!!!!
Somebody give me hope for this country, as mine trickles to trite insignificance.

Just a Spoonfull of Dildo...Sorry Dido! (T.Notes Rambles1)

Open P.S: When “y”ou read this,I honestly am not insinuating anything other than the obvious rambling. If I am, promise I will let “y”ou know face to face, or well, most literally!
P.S2: Long Post warning, but settle down and do read every bit.

That said: Growing up, I was a big fan of Dido-the artiste not the instrument with an l.Forgive the word play*wink*. In this little post, I will talk abit of three of my fav songs in what I consider to be her most excellent album, then at the finale, I will make the insignificant point I set out to divulge in the first place with this post.

I like dido cos she has an awesome voice, she’s smart (I have a weakness for smart chics)and the lyrics of her songs beg you to reach deep to understand what she’s saying. Suffice to say, in my opinion a lot of music to me is just trifle water passing under a minor bridge, but I certainly appreciate an artist/artiste who reaches for my intelligence and speaks soul-to-soul. Dido does just that, at least for me. The symbolism in her songs is hidden in subtle lyrics. So when you listen to a dido track, first off, all you’re hearing is a seemingly good song, until you’ve heard long enough that your mind slowly starts to unravel subtext-then you get a dawning at 2am and you jerk out in laughter! Or,for her other such songs that just quietly give you a hope(Selah).I don’t know where dido’s faith lies, but for me, her pen has spoken loud enough its resonated in my faith…hmmm,maybe as of lifeless stones speaking, I do not judge. Follow me through on this one, hopefully I will shed some of the same light I got from them five years ago.

My pick songs are:
See you when you’re forty
Mary’s in India
Bonus track: See the sun again.
Don’t leave home.

See you when you’re forty!
Ever been with someone who thought he/she was all that??And you blindly got strung along until you wake up one day to realize, wait a minute, I am better than this!!!That’s the surmise of this song for me.
Matured Woman was dating a guy and somewhere along the line something goes sour which she doesn’t expressly say. But in response, she puts pen to paper and completely disses the guy-that is the whole song. It’s a sarcastic play on words, diss after diss, the kinds that you’d be stupidly smiling along, taking them for compliments until sometime much later you realize, WHAT,she didn’t just say that?!!!

You think that you are complicated, deep mystery to all
Well it's taken me a while to see, you're not so special
All energy no meaning, with a lot of words
So paper thin that one real feeling, could knock you down

So see me when your 40, lost and all alone
being comforted by strangers you'll never need to know
not sad because you lost me
but sad because you thought it was cool to be sad

You think misery will make you stand apart from the crowd
well if you had walked past me today I wouldn't have picked you out

now I've seen, tonight, how I could waste my time
and I'll be on my way, and I won't be back
cos I've seen, tonight, what I've been warned about
your just a boy, not a man, and I'm not coming back

This song brings memories. Way back in undergrad school, at some point, I used to drive my sister to law school which was close to my faculty. We’d have this song blaring and we’d be screaming the lyrics at the top of our lungs. Lol, we pretty much considered our selves then wiser than the average who couldn’t for the life understand what beauty we saw in the song. The pun in the song (for me) is ….See you when you’re forty, i.e See you when your intelligence/maturity is close enough to mine, maybe then we can talk. I’ve been at both ends of the stick. I’ve been the silly guy who thoughT he was all that n a bag of chips, super smart and way intelligent than everybody else. These lyrics repeatedly helped knock me off my high horse in those days. I’ve also (ouch), been the duffus who was being taken for a ride until I was able to discover my own self and stand tall. These are parts of the reason why I have such a big mouth today. Know who you are, appreciate you for what you’re worth. And anybody who doesn’t like it, can (LOL), go knack head for transformer!!!!