Name that Movie

Okay boys and girls, lets get interactive. Below is a list of famous movie quotes. Can you name which film they are from? Answers will be published in my next post (or the next time i'm stuck for an update. Taha).


1 "Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
2 "Here’s Lookin’ at you, kid”
3 " I’ll be back.”
4“I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore”
5 “Play it again, Sam”
6 "Say hello to my little friend.”
7 “May the Force be with you.”
8 “I’m mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore.”
9 “But this goes to 11.”
10 “I see dead people.”
11 “Go ahead, make my day.”
12 “You can’t handle the truth.”
13 “There’s no place like home.” .
14 “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’ll get.”
15 “I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too.”
16 “Yo, Adrian”
17 “They’re Here!”
18 “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”
19 “Stella….hey Stella.”
20 “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”
21 “The stuff that dreams are made of.”
22 “We don’t need no stinkin’ badges.”
23 “Bond, James Bond.”
24 “I’ll make him an offer he can’t resfuse.”
25 “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
26 “Rosebud”
27 “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
28 “I coulda been a contender.”
29 “Show me the money!”
30 “If you build it, he will come.”
31 “you’ve got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”
32 “Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”
33 “The first rule of Fight Club is - you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is - you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.”
34 “Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me. Aren’t you?”
35 “You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.”
36 “I wish I knew how to quit you. ”
37 “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.”
38 “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”
39 “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.”
40 “E.T. Phone Home.”
41 A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.”
42 “After all, tomorrow is another day.”
43 “I’ll have what she’s having.”
44 “Plastics.”
45 “Attica! Attica!”
46 “Houston, we have a problem”
47 “You had me at hello.”
48 “There’s no crying in baseball.”
49 “Greed, for lack of a better word, is good.”
50 “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”
51 “Elementary, my dear Watson.”
52 “Here’s Johnny!”
53 “You aint heard nothin’ yet!”
54 “A boy’s best friend is his mother.”
55 “No wire hangers!!!”
56 “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
57 “Hasta la vista, baby.”
58 “I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”
59 “Win just one for the Gipper.”
60 “My name is Indigo Montoya. You have killed my father. Prepare to die.”
61 “They call me Mr. Tibbs.”
62 “I’m walking here. I’m walking here.”
63 “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”
64 “Well, here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten me into!”
65 “I’m king of the world”
66 “We rob banks.”
67 “Nobody’s perfect.”
68 “One morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas, I don’t know.”
69 “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.” .
70 “Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! This is the War Room!”
71 “Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’”
72 “Fuggedaboutit”
73 “Can I borrow your underpants for ten minutes?”
74 “..But I’m funny how? I mean, funny like I’m a clown? I amuse you? I make you laugh?”
75 “You complete me.”

Ghetto Blues

I used to live in a really rough neighbourhood. I ended up there because i was desperate to move out of my mother's house (not for any bad reason, i was just ready to spread my wings), but wary of flat-sharing. The flat in this neighbourhood became available very suddenly and i had to act quickly. It was a one bedroom flat, and i figured that it wouldn't be so bad, as i'd come home each night, shut the door behind me and i'd be safe and sound in my nice, clean dwellings.

Dave Chappelle, the comedian, does a high-larious skit about his first trip into the 'hood in DC, where he encountered a crack-dealing baby. He could just as easily been describing this area of London that i lived in, though i never came across any crack dealers myself. The bit i'm referring to starts around the 4:56min mark or 7:00 to go straight to the baby part. (Warning: The language is 'fruity')



So i moved in and nothing untoward happened for quite awhile. I'm not saying things weren't going on all around me, as each morning, i'd walk to the bus stop only to behold yet another yellow police notice asking for witnesses to come forward for burgularies, assault, murder, you name it! Actually, in the first year, the only dodgy thing that did happen was that i once had a knock on the door. I wasn't expecting anyone so i spoke through the door asking who it was. A man replied that he was from the flat below and there's a leak in the ceiling which might have originated from my flat. I said it wasn't from here and he eventually left. So far, so good. The only problem with that story was that i was on the first floor and all the ground floor was either offices or the Tenant's Hall. There had also been a spate of burgularies whereby the thugs had gained access to people's homes by pretending to be on legitimate business.

Something noteworthy did happen eventually. I think i must have been there for a year or so. It was a Sunday morning and being in the choir, i had to be in church an hour before the service began. I was running late, and had just managed to gulp down some of my obligatory morning cup of tea, dump the mug in the sink, open the front door and step out, only to almost stumble over a Somali-looking man lying prone about 3 feet away from my door with a pool of blood around his head.

Once my heart had returned to as close to it's normal rhythm it was going to get, i gingerly inched towards the body because tragically, that's what it was. He was dead, his eyes wide open and glazed over. I whipped out my phone and was about to dial 999, when it occurred to me that i didn't want the police having my number. I locked my door, determined to call from a phone booth along the way to the bus stop, but somehow somehow, i found myself on the bus towards the tube station and that was that!

When i got back home that evening the body had gone and there was police tape around the place, so i guess someone else had discharged thier duty as a good citizen. Till this day, i'm not sure how i managed to literally step over the body of a dead man (okay, i exagerrate) and go about my business. I guess i feared the wrath of my choir master more than i felt any civil responsibility. I figured he was dead and there was nothing that was going to change that. I know that makes me sound like a cold-hearted witch, but i'm not. What would you have done?

So, life continued. Towards the end of my second year in the place though, things took a turn for the worse. On this particular day, i'd been on study leave and at college. I got home to find my kitchen window shattered and the front door, wide open. I gingerly made my way inside and it became obvious that i'd been burgled (durrr!). They had taken my work laptop, which i had brought home with me the previous day. I think that was all. I called the police and they subsequently sent round a CSI (not Gary Dourdan, unfortunately). He dusted for prints and all that stuff they do, but found nothing. Needless to say, i hardly slept a wink that night as the window was broken and wide open.

The landlord had the window boarded up temporarily whilst he made arrangements for it to be replaced, but the following weekend, i returned home from a wedding, only to find the board bashed in. Once again, they'd come and this time they took all my CDs and DVDs, some electronics and stuff like that. I was livid.

The window was finally replaced, but very soon, the little toe-rags (how do i know they were 'little'? Don't worry. I'll get to that soon) came back, smashed the glass and came in again. This time, they were really starting to take the mickey as they took my mini-stepper, and some new pots and pans (still in the packaging) that had been a birthday present from my Mum!

To cut a long story short, they came back one more time, after which i said 'enough is enough, I'm outta here'! So i got over my fear of living with strangers and found a flat share somewhere in North London.

The landlord found a new tenant who also happened to be a guy who worked shifts. You won't believe that they actually came again, smashed the window and climbed in. Or maybe they didn't. The tale gets a bit murky here. Basically, the man was in and asleep and the noise woke him. Imagine their shock! Turned out they were two boys in their early teens who had figured out that i was never in during the day so they'd decided to just help themselves to my possessions! I can't imagine what they thought they would get on the 5th 'visit'! Unbelievable!!! Thinking back, i can't remember if i took the moral high ground or if i cast some hot ijebu curses their way. Anyway, that's my experience of ghetto living. I was glad to get out, i can tell you that for nothing, but not everyone gets to do that...

Butt-bras really do exist!

This is a public service to those of you who couldn't quite get your heads around the concept of *drum roll*...the BUTT-BRA!!!(see here)






Please note that regular responsible blogging service will resume ASAP

New English Words and Phrases

Yeah, you guessed it...i have blogstipation! I'm therefore setting a challenge for you all - The person who features as many of these words/phrases as possible in their next post wins a prize...

New English Words and Phrases

1. Multi-dadding pp. Having multiple children with multiple men.
—multi-dad v., n.

Example Citation:
In our part of the world, Lucy Lawless, Sally Ridge and Wendyl Nissen happily navigate their way through multi-dadding arrangements. ...
Women like Anderson say the negative reaction towards multi-fathered families comes from an assumption that multi-dadding women must be promiscuous.
But Anderson is quick to set the record straight, saying she has only had relationships with four men — the fathers of her four children.
—Shelley Bridgeman, "Who's the daddy?," The New Zealand Herald, September 30, 2007


2. Smexting pp. Sending text messages while standing outside on a smoking break. [Blend of smoking and texting.]
Example Citation:

The smoking ban has had an unusual side effect.
A record number of text messages have been sent by smokers who want to pass the time over a cigarette while banished to outside venues. ...
Experts have now dubbed the phenomenon 'smexting'.
—Mark Prigg, "Smoking ban leads to surge in texting," The Evening Standard, August 7, 2007

3. Butt bra n. An undergarment that supports the buttocks. Also: buttbra.

Example Citation:
In appearance, the Biniki is similar to the kind of complicated Victorian undergarments you read about in your Brontes class in college. Consisting of two leg loops and a waistband, this foundation garment encircles the buttocks and "lifts and smoothes" the back of the upper thigh (which, when you hit 30, may or may not look like a burlap bag full of doorknobs). This device is often referred to, subtly, as a "butt bra."
—Emma Downs,, "A thing of booty," Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, March 2, 2006

4. Approximeeting pp. Getting together with one or more people by first arranging an approximate time or place and then firming up the details later on, usually via cell phone.
—approximeet v.

Example Citations:
Marty Cooper, known as the "father of the cellphone" for his work in developing the first mobile phones at Motorola, recalls that he only became aware of the device's full potential as a result of actually using it. His secretary called him on his prototype mobile phone as he was getting into his car to drive to a meeting to say that it had been cancelled—thus saving him from a wasted journey. But explaining the benefits of being able to change plans on the fly to potential customers was difficult, he says, so the first phones were marketed instead on the basis that they could make people more productive, by allowing them to work while on the move. But today the idea of "approximeeting"—arranging to meet someone without making firm plans about time or place, and then finalising details via mobile phone while out and about—is commonplace.
—"The phone of the future," The Economist, December 2, 2006

5. Generation XL (jen.uh.ray.shun eks.EL) n. Children or young adults who are overweight.

Example Citations:
Internet workers call it "the start-up 15," the extra pounds they gained when they gave up a balanced diet and regular exercise for their dot-com jobs.
"In my case, it's the start-up 24," Phillips said.
Meet Generation XL. Like college freshmen who get fat from too much dorm food and too little activity, many cubicle potatoes lead very unhealthy lives. They have erratic eating habits and indulge in too much late-afternoon or late-night high-fat snacking. They are only half joking when they say their only physical activity is surfing the Internet.
—Jessica Guynn, "As dot-coms trim fat, so do ex-workers," Contra Costa Times, March 19, 2001

6. Nico-teen (NIK.oh.teen) n. A teenager who smokes cigarettes.

Example Citation:
Teenagers are more likely to start smoking if their favourite film stars are smokers.
—Matthew Hart, "Film star smokers blamed for nico-teen addicts," Courier Mail, February 26, 2001

7. Protirement (proh.TYR.munt) n. Retiring or quitting an unattractive job to pursue work or hobbies more suited to one's personality. Also: pro-tirement.
—protire v.

Example Citations:
Yet, for an increasing number of us, the conversation doesn't end there. More than 80% of 30-to 35-year-old professionals claim they are unhappy at work, worn down by a combination of stress, boredom and "aspiration deficit": the feeling that their job isn't giving back as much as they put into it. As working hours and the pressure to earn big bucks increase, the generation that once thought it could have it all has started to wonder whether it is worth sacrificing life to get it.
"People are starting to have midlife crises as early as 26," says Ann-Marie Woodall, author of Secrets of a High-heeled Healer. "Careers, especially those in areas such as the City and media, have become all about instant gratification. You can get success so quickly, more and more people are tasting it, and then realising that it's not making them happy."
For many, that realisation leaves a straight choice between continuing in a career that pays well but makes them miserable, and doing something less lucrative but more fulfilling — a lifestyle option that has been dubbed "protirement". According to research, one in 15 under-35s is already "protired".
—Anita Chaudhuri, "I want to change my life," The Sunday Times of London, September 21, 2003

8. Skinship n. Feelings of relatedness and affection between two people, particularly a mother and a child, caused by hugging, touching, and other forms of physical contact.

Example Citation:
Cathedrals of the Flesh, by Alexia Brue (Bloomsbury; $24.95). This entertaining picaresque chronicles the author's mostly naked reconnaissance of the world's public baths, from cavernous marble Turkish hamams and smoky Helsinki saunas to militantly hot Moscow banyas and a New York bathhouse of dubious hygiene. ... Brue's depiction of herself as a bumbling innocent abroad isn't entirely believable, but her approach to other cultures is refreshingly humble, and her devotion to the pleasures of bathing with strangers makes a seductive case for "skinship," in which, naked together in the same water, "you do away with all the normal social barriers in life."
—"The Critics: Briefly Noted," The New Yorker, January 20, 2003

9. Mouse race (MOWS rays) n. A lower-stress lifestyle that results from moving to a smaller community or taking a less demanding job. —adj.

Example Citations:
Glen and Phyllis Swank were looking to move from southern California two years ago.
"We wanted to leave the rat race and join the mouse race," said Phyllis, who among other jobs worked at a Jewish day school, a private high school, an affordable housing program and as a cake decorator.
Glen, who labored for 25 years as an applications engineer for the world's largest tool manufacturer, said retiring from that job was retirement number one. He is currently in what he calls retirement number two: serving bed and breakfast customers. He is looking forward to a third retirement, when he will actually vacation in bed and breakfasts.
—Tom Wharton, "Mouse Race Pace Suits Them Fine," Salt Lake Tribune, May 3, 2003, Saturday

10. Hurry sickness n. A malaise where a person feels chronically short of time, and so tends to perform every task faster and to get flustered when encountering any kind of delay.

Example Citation:
The microwave oven is one of the modern objects that convey the most elemental feeling of power over the passing seconds. You watch those seconds, after all, as they tick past on the digital display. If you suffer from hurry sickness in its most advanced stages, you may find yourself punching eighty-eight seconds instead of ninety because it is faster to tap the same digit twice.
—James Gleick, Faster, Random House, 1999

11. Salad dodger (SAL.ud daw.jur) n. An overweight person; a person who shuns healthy foods. Also: salad-dodger, SD.

Example Citations:
So, food is a national comforter. Famously too, though the Scots are a nation of salad dodgers. It's a fair cop but, in our defence, have you seen what nature provides in the way of soil? Anything that isn't gorse isn't that easy to grow here. Scotland's stony fields are in fact, particularly suited to growing turnips.
—Jenny Colgan,

"Chips with everything: Ridiculed by gourmets, feared by doctors, and now celebrated by Irvine Welsh, Scottish food has always been an acquired taste," The Guardian (London), August 20, 2003

Spring time in London

AM (6th April 2008)






PM (6th April 2008)



It hasn't snowed down here in the South in a loooong time. At least not where i live. These are the breath-taking views i woke up to this morning as i left home for Church. It was freezing, but breath-taking all the same. It was also a blink and you'd miss it moment,as when i left Church this afternoon, the snow had completely melted and could almost have never occurred.

I don't like change very much. I deal with it as it happens because it's bound to happen, but that doesn't mean i like or welcome it. That is not too say that i like routine either. Infact, the creative part of me probably hates routine much more than i resent change. So, i'm trying not to grumble and complain as increasingly, the seasons appear to be departing from their established pattern. It's snowing in Spring for goodness sake!

One can draw parallels between the 'mixed-up' seasons and life i.e. things do not always fall in line with expectations or well laid out plans. However, just as the snow that 'shouldn't' have fallen today melted within a few hours, and the known pattern was re-established, i strongly believe that when life throws us curve balls, the balance will ultimately be restored and the Master Plan will be established once again. It may happen within a couple of hours, or sometimes it might take a couple of years, but ultimately, all things work together for our good (Romans 8:28). All we have to do is hold on even against the odds.

But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don't get tired,
they walk and don't lag behind (Isaiah 40:31)

Don't overlook the obvious here, friends. With God, one day is as good as a thousand years, a thousand years as a day. God isn't late with his promise as some measure lateness. He is restraining himself on account of you, holding back the End because he doesn't want anyone lost. He's giving everyone space and time to change (2 Peter 3:8)

God bless you all. Have a wonderful week.

Overheard in Camden (Part 2)

This forms the second post in the Overheard in Camden series. See here for Part 1

I was in the Camden Town branch of Sainsbury's, earlier today, in the biscuit aisle trying to convince myself that i did not actually need two packets of Malted Milk, as one packet was more than enough, given my tendency to binge eat whenever biscuits or chocolate are within my reach. I swear, i take no prisoners. I do not rest until they are all gone! So i very wisely do not usually stock up on such things.

All of a sudden, my reverie is intruded upon by the clip-clopping sound of heels on the marble-esque floor of the supermarket. I deduce that it must be some chic in killer heels tottering around with a shopping basket, doing some quick lunch time shopping. I keep my eyes glued to the biscuits in front of me, but being a shoe fetishist myself, i'm resolved to steal a quick glance when she walks past me.

The footsteps slow down and finally stop somewhere to my right. As previously resolved, i steal a glance, however the only person standing anywhere near me is a short, squat man. I swivel round (i have confessed to blatant nosiness in the first post already). No chic. I hone in on the man once again and wait for him to begin to walk off. He eventually does.

There it is again.

Clip-clop

Clip-clop

Clip-clop

Clip.

Only in Camden.

I'm Ok

Thanks for all the love, people. That was then, this is now. I'm good. I really do appreciate you all. Take...

I want to be an Island!

I HATE HUMAN BEINGS!

HUMANS SUCK!!!

Another Question Is...

Is there anything more annoying than the sound of finger nails scratching dry skin?

My colleague seems to have some kind of craw-craw...sorry, i mean rash or eczema on her wrist. She also has extremely long natural nails and every now and then she scratches it and it makes a horrible grating sound.

I came across this explanation for why the sound of nails on a black board is so irritating:

It has been noted that nails across a blackboard hits exactly the same frequency range as the screeches that many species of primates use to signal "Danger! Predator!" We could be tapping into a very deepseated instinctive response to this range of sound, to jump up and look around for danger.

Nails on blackboard, nails on skin...it's all the same to me - irritating! So much so that i want to scream at the top of my voice for her to stop.

I'm reminded of one of those Walt Disney or Hanna Barbera cartoons i used to watch as as child. The cartoon character (i think it might have been Bugs Bunny)was in a house at the foot of a hill. In the house with him was another person who was either ill or trying to sleep. Bugs Bunny kept crashing into things and yelling out in pain, making lots of noise. He kept getting told off or probably bashed on the head (those cartoons were so violent!), so finally, the next time something falls on him/burns him etc, he claps his hand over his mouth, runs out of the house, up the hill and when he gets to the top of the hill, he lets out the biggest shout. Of course things keep happening and he keeps having to run out to the top of the hill and yell...therein lies the humour, see?

I have no idea why this particular sketch has stayed with me, but my, oh my, i really wish i had a hill to run up each time she starts scratching so i can let out a scream and then return to my desk! Maybe i should just run down the corridor screaming 'yey, yey egbami o! (somebody save me o!)'! Lol! (Oh, i do crack myself up sometimes! What is it they say about laughing at your own jokes? Never mind. I don't care).

I am a very tolerant person, but i'm not sure how much of this i can bear.Aaaaaaaaaaargh!!!


Update
I felt a bit guilty about posting this so i sat on it for a while. Today, however, i realised the scratching had stopped, therefore, it's not some kind of affliction the poor woman has to bear, and i feel better :) (there is some logic in there somewhere)

Have a lovely Easter weekend, folks!!!

A Day in the Life of UCS & Nayo @ Soho Revue Bar (13th March 2008)

I went to a wedding today. An old University friend from the Old Country got hitched today. I'd arranged to meet up with some other friends somewhere along the way and then travel down together, but made a detour into the shopping hell that is Oxford Street! Don't get me wrong, i love Oxford Street. I love shopping....no actually, i love window shopping better than the act itself. It's funny, i've never been one of those females who gets up one day and decides to go shopping for the sake of it, and still manages to come home with bags and bags of stuff. No. I'm more calculated. I take mental notes while out window shopping and then decide if i want to get the thing(s), so when i go back to the shops, i go with a purpose.

I remember taking a trip to Rome a couple of years ago with 3 shopaholic friends (big mistake!). I mean these girls were hard core!!! We'd already planned our itinery ahead of time i.e. hit one of those out of town shopping outlets on the first day and then spend the rest of the weekend sight-seeing (i.e the part i was looking forward to). So we get to the Outlet (eventually), only to find out their Sale started the following day. My friends decided it wouldn't be prudent to shop then, but to come back the next day and you really couldn't fault their logic. To cut a long story short, we spent the whole of the next day shopping. Or at least they did. I spent the whole day scowling and drinking copious amounts of coffee.

We'd agreed to get a taxi back to Rome after the shopping trip, but having spent all their money SHOPPING, we now had to cross express roads and catch buses and trains and anyway, it wasn't funny at all! We finally made it back into Rome late afternoon and i insisted on seeing some sights. Well, the Colliseum has shut for the day by the time we got there, and we got to cast a cursory glance over the Trevi fountain. That was it. What a waste! I was so annoyed. I digress though.

So i dashed down to Oxford Street to get a card and gift. 'Cutting it a bit fine', i hear you say, given that the wedding was this afternoon? Well, i only heard about the wedding earlier this week...and from another friend back in Naija! I was a bit miffed and almost didn't go, but i soon got over myself. After all 'Rejoice with those who rejoice..' the bible says. Not 'Rejoice with those who rejoice and also send you invitations well in advance of the wedding day'...

I also took advantage of being in that vicinity and had a look round in a couple of shops for a skirt to complete my choir uniform for tomorrow. I finally found something in Zara, and as i stood in line to pay, i caught the Manager-type guy (well, he was in a suit) who was serving at the counter, checking me out in my wedding finery as his customer input her PIN. He smiled when our eyes met and i smiled back. It was very refreshing, seeing as how i'm used to 'franking' Naija men (see here. Maybe it's about time we reopened that debate. Naija men, why do you like to frank ya faces at people you don't know? Would it kill you to smile? Would your face crack, perhaps? The funny thing is that when you actually, on the off chance, get to meet some of these same franking (frowning) guys, some of them turn out to be quite decent. So why, oh why, can't your faces reflect this?).

Anyway, back to my manager dude. He was kinda cute (ehn, so what would i have done if he was 'ugly'? Scowled? Lol!). He was also, i'm guessing, Spanish. All Zara staff seem to be. Now, do they ship them over from Spain to work in their branches here in the UK? Or do they advertise in Spanish? Answers on a postcard, please. The mere fact that he smiles rules out the option of him being English! Unfortunately, there's one person in front of me and as he finishes with his current customer, she goes over to his till and i have to go over to the girl beside him (also Spanish). Ah well...c'est la vie.

The wedding was great. But i love weddings, period. I also reconnected with some other old friends, which is always good.


Earlier in the week, i went to see new Nigerian singing sensation, Nayo, perform live. Hailed as the new Sade, Nayo is starting to generate a buzz over here in the UK. I went to see her at the Soho Revue bar. Men, Soho at night is scary! Well, maybe scary's a strong word. Perhaps seedy and sleazy describes it better, what with the women standing in doorways inviting men in to come and check out the girls on offer, and the punters (perverts, in my book) trooping into sex shops with impunity! But this is not a post on the moral decadence prevalent in today's society, now is it?!

Minor rant: Nigerians are so --- (you fill in the blanks).
I rocked up to the venue and was waved in by the bouncers. The naija chic at the desk asked for my name and now consulted the list in front of her. 'No, you're not on the list' she says finally. As i try to process this info, someone mentions the words 'guest list'. I'm like 'Excusez moi! Do i look like some kind of groupie/hanger on? I paid for my ticket fair and square online. Capiche?'. The girl now goes 'oh, do i have a reference number'. I tell her, Noooo because the website only said to bring along the credit card with which you made the booking. Then ensues frantic mobile phone conversation explaining situation to faceless person on other side of line. No list had been produced of people who had bought tickets online. I'm like 'Duh-uh!!!'. I wait about 15mins while they get their act together. The sad thing is that i'm not surprised!

I finally get my hand stamped with what a friend refers to as 'the mark of the beast' and am allowed to go up the stairs and into the venue. After the support act does his thing, Nayo finally comes out.

Looking good, sounding good...Nayo is an undeniable talent. Great voice, great presence, charming and engaging. My only issue is that all her songs seem to sound 'samey'. I'd be willing to hazard a guess they were all produced by the same person. She also needs to work on the smoothness of her segues between songs. I believe all that will come with time, and all in all, i really was impressed. My best bit was when she did a bit of improv, asking the audience to shout out words or phrases which she then weaves into a song. Enjoy (Don't say i never do anything for y'all, my faithful readers :))

Question is...

Is there anything more disgustingly annoying than the sound of a grown man SNAPPING gum? Really...is there? Yeuch!

The Impostor Syndrome

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Impostor Syndrome, or Impostor Phenomenon, sometimes called Fraud Syndrome, is not an officially recognized psychological disorder, but has been the subject of a number of books and articles by psychologists and educators. Individuals experiencing this syndrome seem unable to internalize their accomplishments. Regardless of what level of success they may have achieved in their chosen field of work or study, or what external proof they may have of their competence, they remain convinced internally that they do not deserve the success they have achieved and are really frauds. Proofs of success are dismissed as luck, timing, or otherwise having deceived others into thinking they were more intelligent and competent than they believe themselves to be. This syndrome is thought to be particularly common among women who are successful in their given careers and is typically associated with academics.

I don't know what's going on, but my blog seems to have developed a life of its own. Regular visitors will concur that the tone of my blog has always been light-hearted, recently, however, it has become more confessional and that worries me. This new found garrulousity worries me, because in real life, i am one of the most unforthcoming, secretive people you'd ever come across...just because that's the way i like it. I'm the one who's the good listener who patiently listens to the woes of all and sundry and even dispenses sound wisdom as required. I just never feel the need to spill my own guts in return. Now, whether this is a reflection on the people around me (i.e. they do not inspire confidence) or whether it's just a fundamental 'flaw' in my make up, i do not know.

So, anyway, Impostor Syndrome. The above definition is completely me on any given day. Won't go into details except to set the scene by saying that to date, i've worked for one of the 'Big 4' accounting firms and the only person who seemed unimpressed by it was...you guessed it....ME! But that's not the issue here. The issue is that yesterday, i felt so much more like a fraud, as in a meeting, i was congratulated and praised for my dedication to my current job, whilst in my heart of hearts i knew the only reason i was still there was because i hadn't found anything else suitable. And believe me, i had been searching!!!!

Some background: In June last year, my boss left suddenly, under a cloud. I work in a team of three - said boss, moi and an assistant X. Assistant X soon followed boss' suit, leaving me on my lonesome. Oga kpata kpata brought in an Interim Director to do my ex-boss' job three days a week, and this arrangement continued until the beginning of this week when said Interim Director became a de facto employee. Now, this is not the time nor place to go into details of how much of an irritant this guy is... and now i'm stuck with him 5 days a week. Lord, hellep me!

Back to the meeting. My team's role requires that we be seen to be independent and objective, yada yada yada...therefore we report to a Committee rather than having direct reporting lines to the organisation's senior management, and at the meeting yesterday, the Chair of the Committee made a point of praising me for ...in his words '..believing in what they were trying to achieve and sticking by it through this period of change..'. I smiled and nodded my acknowledgement whilst inside i felt sickened. I wasn't there because i wanted to be! I was there because i have bills to pay! I don't know about anyone else, but ain't nothing going on but the rent over here, let me tell you something!

Yes, so it's official. I am an impostor...Sue me! The good thing is that i have recognised this and made amends and plans to get my life on to the path which will lead me to a career i feel passionate about. In October this year, i begin a one-year Foundation Course. It's scary, starting over in this new field. But no pain, no gain, hunh? Not since Secondary School have i actually enjoyed studying for the sake of studying and i know that i will experience this again because of my desire to increase in knowledge in this field i've chosen. It's something i have a natural aptitude for and which i know i will enjoy studying and subsequently doing for a living.

So, roll on October. Yippee!!! And in the interim, does anyone have any suggestions on how to refrain from strangulating an irritating Boss?

I Feel

I feel
On the brink, but also in a rut
On the way somewhere, but glued to the spot
Just about to sink, but treading water still
About to utter the words on the tip of my tongue, but choking on them too
About to take a step, but limbs strangely immobilized
I feel hopeful, but bizarrely cynical too
Warm, but acid often rolls off my loving tongue
Waiting, but impatiently powering on
Burdened, but weight absorbed by determination not to bow
Restless, but dead calm permeates my being

As long as I feel, I know I’m still alive
My feelings are the pulse throbbing away on the wrist of my life
Signifying the beating of my heart
And if my heart can go on, then so can I

The Ladies Privilege

Day 3, post 3. Undacova is smokin'!

Apparently, there is an old wives tale regarding February 29th.

February 29th is known as The Ladies Privilege day, and as is the case with most old wives tales, there are a number of explanations for its origins flying around. Here are a few:

St. Bridget's Complaint
It is believed this tradition was started in 5th century Ireland when St. Bridget complained to St. Patrick about women having to wait for so long for a man to propose. According to legend, St. Patrick said the yearning females could propose on this one day in February during the leap year.

February 29th in English Law
According to English law, February 29th was ignored and had no legal status. Folks assumed that traditions would also have no status on that day. It was also reasoned that since the leap year day existed to fix a problem in the calendar, it could also be used to fix an old and unjust custom that only let men propose marriage.

The first documentation of this practice dates back to 1288, when Scotland passed a law that allowed women to propose marriage to the man of their choice in that year. They also made it law that any man who declined a proposal in a leap year must pay a fine. The fine could range from a kiss to payment for a silk dress or a pair of gloves

Sadie Hawkins Day
In the United States, some people have referred to this date as Sadie Hawkins Day with women being given the right to run after unmarried men to propose.
Sadie Hawkins was a female character in the Al Capp cartoon strip Li'l Abner. Many communities prefer to celebrate Sadie Hawkins Day in November which is when Al Capp first mentioned Sadie Hawkins Day.

I suppose my question to Men is this - how would you feel if a Woman proposed marriage to you? I don't mean if a woman asked you out on a date. I mean proposed marriage, which presupposes that a relatively advanced relationship is already in place (it would be freaky otherwise, of course and you'd be justified in telling the woman to buzz off!). I really hope no one brings up that whole hunter-gatherer crap (yes...that is the technical, anthropological term) whereby men will not appreciate something unless they work for it...yada, yada, yada cos that just makes me yaaaaaaaaaaawn.

And my question to my Ladies is this - would you propose marriage to a man on Ladies Privilege day, or any other day for that matter? Again, i stress the distinction between asking one out on a date and proposing marriage.

Happiness is...

Happiness is such a sublime emotion, i think. It's really difficult to find a clear and concise definition of Happiness. I once read somewhere that Happiness is being okay with the way you feel. So far, that's the best i've heard.

Another way to define happiness could be to try to compare it to something a bit more tangible and relatable. Y'know, like a simile or metaphor. For example:

Happiness is...savouring a plate of carbs at night, after a full day of self-denial! (Yes, i have just done justice to a plate of rice and beef stew, and it tasted mighty fine!!!).

It's been said that food tastes so much better when you are really hungry. I whole heartedly concur. Although, that is not to say that ma food don't taste good! I've got me some skills...if i say so myself!

Anyways....What is your definition/idea of Happiness?

Do share...


PS
Two posts in as many days...i'm cookin' on gas, dude!!!

The Passage of Time, Almost Scarface, and New Birth

Time flies. It really does.

I say this in reference to my niece who turned 16 a few days ago. Actually, i've got two nieces - the aforementioned, and her younger sister who turns 15 in a month, and like children do, they've grown sooooo fast!

My whole family used to live really close to each other, and as such we were always in each others homes, seeing each other at least once a week. This was until, i broke out and moved across the river to North London. The reason for this is worthy of a post of it's own - i was burgled four times in the space of 5-6 weeks!!!

Anyway, i moved up north and by virtue of distance, no longer had easy access to my family, and in that space of time, guess what the inconsiderate little blighters went and did? Yep...they grew! Suddenly, i realised that i really didnt know my nieces and nephews any more. They were no longer rosy cheeked little kids i used to have so much fun playing with and looking after. They were young people with lives of their own, hopes, dreams and aspirations.

I decided to tackle this ever-increasing void by instituting what i choose to call 'Auntie Undacova' day. The first of these was 2 weeks ago when i went out with the girls. I took them out for a Lobster meal (ooo-ooh) and we saw Juno (good film). The boys (aged 11 and 8) want to go Quasar laser tagging. We might have to do some negotiation on that one i think!

My nieces are as different as night and day. There's Niece A who is confident, outgoing, makes friends easily etc; and there's her younger sister by a year, Niece B who reminds me of myself at that age: introverted, painfully shy (covered up by outwards indifference), would rather bury her head in a book than socialise. I, personally, had to work through all my issues and teenage angst on my own, and i can tell you it was a pretty arduous process. My reasoning now is that i've been there, done that, so my nieces can...in fact, should be able to benefit from my experiences in navigating the minefield that is growing up into a well rounded, balanced, self-assured woman. I can't speak for anyone else, but at that age there were things i would rather choose to stick red hot pins in my eyes over, than discuss with my mother!

Niece B is also a 'still waters run deep' kind of person like me, and to be honest, i thought she was the one i'd have to worry the most about, what with her independent spirit and i-know-better-than-anyone-else take on life. Last weekend, i found out to my surprise that i was wrong and it's Miss I'm-16-and-now-an-adult-don't-treat-me-like-a-child who has been manifesting all sorts of rebellious behaviour! Goes to show, eh?

I do recall, however, a time in my life when my 'deepness' (lol) almost got me into trouble and left me scarred for life literally!

I was about 8 years old and sitting at the breakfast table one morning. I'm not sure how long i'd been pondering for, but it must have been a long time because, on not being able to come up with a satisfactory conclusion myself, i asked my Mum the following question: where do we come from? Not as in which state are we from and which home town, but rather where does mankind originate from. She tried her best to explain, and i really don't remember what she said i.e evolution, creation, i don't know, but because i wasn't satisfied, i kept probing and probing to a level that must have freaked her out, because she immediately got on to family and friends who eventually suggested her taking me to see some Baba like that who lived in Ajegunle.

I don't remember an awful lot about the journey, but i do remember we had to enter a Canoe to get there. Interesting detail just to set the scene. Another interesting detail i recall is that as we made our way through the alley ways to the dude's house, for the first time in my life i witnessed dishes being washed with Omo(detergent), and i was completely bewildered. My aje-bota self couldn't quite comprehend that not everyone had access to washing-up liquid!

So we get to the Baba's house and he does some mumbo jumbo. In a nutshell, the verdict is that i should be given gbere i.e. little incisions made on the skin with a razor blade, presumably to ward off evil spirits blah, blah, blah. I don't know if it was because of my age or maybe he got paid per visit, but it was suggested that i get some done that day and then come back for the rest. So this guy whips out his razor blade (scary thought just occured to me - was it new?!) and literally gouges out some lines on my chest and back. I can't remember if i cried or not.


On the second visit, the Baba's son finishes off the job, doing the other incisions elsewhere on my poor eight year old person, including my face, and this is the crucial part in the tale for which i will eternally be thankful to God. I have deep scars on my chest and back to this day, but Baba's son was a little less heavy handed than his old man (thank you, Jesus!) . If he hadn't been, i would today belong to the ranks of those who sport disfiguring tribal marks across their faces! Narrow escape, huh?


And in closing, i must add that only God knows what kind of associations were made that day. What i do know is that the greater one now lives in me and i am a new creation. It's actually funny that in the search for 'answers', my Mum graduated from Babas in Ajegunle into the even murkier depths of the Celestial Church of Christ (aka Cele). Oh, the tales i could tell! Maybe i will one day. When i mention to people that i spent years in Cele, their reaction is unfailingly the same i.e. they can't reconcile the person with their impression of the Church (read my profile to see what i mean). Anyway, one can only praise God.

Peace..

PS
Apologies for the lameness of the post title :)

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy (My Hero)

I don't normally do book reviews , as there are loads of others on Blogsville, in my opinion, who do it so much better than i ever could; however, i am willing to make an exception for this one book.

This book left me completely wrung out emotionally. I read the last 10 pages on the train on the way to meet up with a friend on Saturday, and as my eyes kept tearing up, i had to constantly battle not to let the tears spill down my cheeks; although after a while, i was beyond caring. Such is the power of this book. It's totally amazing!

Until a couple of months ago, i'd never even heard of Cormac McCarthy. Now he is my ultimate literary hero and i am going to read every book he has ever written!

I saw an interview he did with Oprah a while ago and i remember him striking me as someone completely comfortable in their own selves and comfortable with who they are. Not at all caught up in the hype that accompanies being featured in Oprah's Book Club. In fact, he actually said he didn't care that millions of people now read his books. He only hoped that people who would appreciate his writing read his books, the numbers being completely inconsequential. Never mind that i had no clue who he was or even that he'd won the 2007 Pullitzer prize for his latest novel, The Road, i was completely transfixed by his intellect and his ideas and wasn't surprised to subsequently find out he is an academic and a scientist, no less.

Right from the opening pages, i was hooked! Hooked, and also filled with a feeling of dread. I'm not exagerating when i say i wore a permanent wince throughout my reading of The Road. Incidentally, No Country for Old Men, the Oscar nominated movie is based on one of McCarthy's books, and my reaction throughout the film was the same.

The story chronicles the journey of a father and son to the coast, following a natural disaster, or even perhaps a nuclear holocaust. We are not told what has happened, however, it is clear that the world as we know it, has come to an end. The landscape is completely burnt out, the air is filled with ash, vegetation and animals are all dead and the few human beings that remain are divided into two distinct camps - the good guys and the bad guys. The ones who eat other human beings and the ones who don't.

The father and son do what they can to survive. All they have is each other. Their story is so beautifully imagined, and beautifully told. In fact, it's hard to come across a single review of the book which does not use the word 'beautiful'. But in contrast to the beauty of the often heart-wrenching relationship between the boy and his papa as they spur each other on to continue against all odds and to hold on to their humanity even as all those around them lose theirs, there is a palpable sense of dread and terror, as they live in constant fear of the 'road agents' who capture survivors enslave them and keep them for food.

The man is ill and constantly coughs up blood, but even in the face of near starvation, freezing temperatures, death and despair, he carries on for the sake of his son. They often go days on end without food or even the hope of it, but they carry on. The man has a pistol with two solitary bullets in it. We are told that his wife committed suicide at some stage, entrusting the boy to his father, knowing that he would continue on, if only for the boy's sake. The man has taught his son how to position the gun in his mouth and fire in the event of anything happening to him.

Cormac McCarthy is 73 years old, and became a father late in life i.e. in his 60s. The book is dedicated to his son, and he admits that it probably would not have been written at all if he did not have his son. He tells of how he was in a hotel room in El Paso, late one night, his son asleep. He looked out of the window down on the town below him and at the hills in the distance and imagined what that town would look like in the face of devastation. That was where the seed for the book was planted, although the story wasn't completed till 4 years later. He said when he writes it's like taking dictation. As if the story has already been written in his subconscious and when he sits at his Olivetti typewriter, he is simply writing down what he's being told. The book was completed in a few weeks. Amazing!

In the interview, McCarthy also tells of how his primary objective in life was always to never have to work. As a result, he went through lots of hardship, three marriages and unimaginable lack. However, he says no matter how hard things were, something always turned up in the nick of time e.g a cheque for $20,000 for a fellowship, a sample size tube of toothpaste in the mail box, just when he had run out etc. This theme is echoed throughout The Road. Just when your heart is breaking for the wretched pair, they would stumble across a cache of food and supplies, retrieve their stolen possessions from a thief who is really just another man trying his best to survive.

Some say the boy is a figment of the man's imagination. Something he makes up to give him a reason to keep on going. Others say the boy is a type of Messiah, 'carrying the fire' that is going to save the rest of the world. Me, i leave the analysis to more seasoned book reviewers. As i mentioned earlier, the ending of the book is heart-breaking. Literally. The whole book just blew me away, and it's a testament to author that he is able to endue such a simple story with so much poignancy. Without giving too much away, I love this book. I gave my copy to my friend to read, but later found myself regretting it because i wanted to read it all over again.

If you only read one book this year, let it be The Road.

Oprah's interview with Cormac McCarthy

Year of the Ox (abi na Rat?)

2008 is the Year of the Rat according to Chinese astrology

The "Rat" is the first sign of the Chinese zodiac.

Legend has it that the Jade Emperor invited the animals for a party. The first 12 to arrive was the Rat, followed by the Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Sheep, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, and lastly, the Pig. All the animals were named after the 12-year cycle that governs Chinese life thereafter.

My birth date apparently falls under the year of the Ox. Here are some of the characteristics of the Ox:

Oxes may appear docile (sometimes), but watch out (too right)! They also have quite a temper (unfortunately). They are extremely determined and work tirelessly to get what they want (uh huh). Step by step and piece by piece, they move steadily toward their goals. People born under the sign of the Ox are dependable and stick to a routine until the job is done. They are fair-minded and good listeners, but they can also be extremely stubborn (yep)

Because of their trustworthy character, Oxes will often hold positions of authority and responsibility (true) They always get ahead in the world. They must be careful not to become slaves to their jobs or profession (hmmn). Oxes can be forceful leaders and eloquent speakers when the occasion arises. In troubled times they will have great presence of mind and will never be intimidated (very true). They are very proud souls. Oxes are systematic and respect traditions. They mistrust things they don't understand,and they hate loose ends. They can also be vulnerable in romance. They are so straightforward that they don't relate to the love games others play (detest them). Since it takes a long time to develop intimate relationships, Oxes like long courtships. Once they have made up their minds, they are loyal and giving-almost to a fault (sigh).

Ox people are neat and punctual (?), honest and hard working (yes). Oxes make ideal mates since they always do more than their share (to a fault!). They have a long memory and remember the little details others miss. Once Oxes are angry with you, they will carry their grievance a long way (guilty). When they are unhappy or upset, they will bury themselves in their work until they feel better. Oxes always pay their debts. If they owe you anything, they will never forgive themselves until the debt is paid (YES). They always remember a favor, and though they don't use flowery words,they will show their appreciation in other ways. Their actions speak louder than words (true)

When Oxes lose their temper, they really lose it! There will be no reasoning with them, so get out of their way until they cool off (oh yeah!). Always appeal to the head rather than to the heart of the Oxes. They quickly understand the pros and cons to the situation. Oxes seldom get sick and are not tolerant of weaker people (i'm trying). They should learn how to relax more (any suggestions?)

Oxes hate to ask for help (soooo true). If it takes them twice as long to accomplish something, they still prefer working alone. They want things to last and build them with care (yep). Oxes love their home and family and provide well for them. They do well at long term investments with stability and firm foundations. They are definitely not gamblers. Oxes earn their success by their own merits and don't expect any free rides (yes, yes, yes).

Whether you believe in this stuff or not, almost every statement is an accurate reflection of the person i am. As a Christian, i'm not meant to believe in the zodiac, astrology and things like that, however, i'm rebellious and every once in a while, i still peek at my horoscope and this is what i've found. A lot of the time, what it says is usually something that has already been revealed to me through reading my bible or speaking with God. Whether you believe in horoscopes or not, things are undeniably programmed into the stars. I believe this is done by God. Case in point - When Jesus was born, the wise men saw his star in the east and came to worship him (Matt 2:2). There was a message in the stars, they saw it, responded, and came to worship Christ.

I don't think the issue is whether people's lives or destinies can be read from the stars (at least for me). For me the issue is why go to the stars when it's possible for you to have direct access to the one who has placed that information there?...

Other years here

8 Weird Things About Me

I was tagged by 30+

1 - When i was young, two of my most favourite things to do were (1)popping other peoples pimples (black heads were the best), and (2)scraping people's dandruff. I used to beg people to let me squeeze their pimples!

2 - I hate making small talk. So much so that i never maintain the same hairdresser/salon, cornershop, butcher, baker, candlestick maker for longer than necessary. No matter how superior the service or product turns out to be, after about the 3rd or 4th visit, you know, when you become familiar and you walk in and they recognise you and the pressure is on to become pleasant and smile and make *spit, spit* small talk. That's when i know i have to bolt.

3 - I am very squeamish, which is not very weird. The weird thing is that when i come across a large glob of saliva on the ground or a patch of drunken vomit on a friday night (can't speak for other cities, but a regular sight on the streets of London), i shudder violently. It doesn't end there though, because i will keep on playing the sight over and over, again and again in my mind hours, and sometimes days, afterwards. Each time, shuddering violently some more. I cant seem to stop myself. Gross, i know.

4 - I am a creature of habit, in the sense that when i find something that works, i stick to it. This usually tends to be in the arena of food alone. In other areas, i'm actually very adventurous and love experiencing new things, places etc. So back to food, once i find a particular lunch time sandwich, i can stick to the same one day in, day out for months on end, then switch to something else and stick with that for ages.

5 - I enjoy watching teleshopping channels. Not just when there's nothing else on TV, but because i actually get pleasure from doing so. I can easily explain the science behind the Lateral Thigh Trainer, Leg Magic, Sheer Cover make up etc. I find infomercials fascinating...


6 - I am a little bit obsessive compulsive about lines and symmetry. I will therefore, go about adjusting people's clothing, public signs, pictures until they are perfectly aligned.

7 - I believe that every man/woman should be allowed to be an island if they want to.

8 - I pose a lot. When ever i have to stand still, i seem to automatically strike a pose without giving it any thought - or so i've been told. As far as i'm concerned, i'm just standing still.

SAD

SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER (SAD)

Symptoms

Sleep problems: Usually desire to oversleep and difficulty staying awake but, in some cases, disturbed sleep and early morning wakening (CHECK! AND YES I AM SHOUTING!!!)

Lethargy: Feeling of fatigue and inability to carry out normal routine (CHECK!)

Overeating: Craving for carbohydrates and sweet foods, usually resulting in weight gain (CHECK!!! I have been craving for and eating Amala (my okele of choice) at least 2-3 times each week! I even travelled all the way to Finsbury Park(way out of my way)to go and buy okro on monday this week after work!!!)

Depression: Feelings of misery, guilt and loss of self-esteem, sometimes hopelessness and despair, sometimes apathy and loss of feelings (CHECK!)

Social problems: Irritability and desire to avoid social contact (CHECK! I HAVE GONE AWOL FROM MY WEEKLY CHURCH AND CHOIR COMMITTMENTS FOR 2 WEEKS RUNNING. UNHEARD OF!!!)

Loss of libido : Decreased interest in sex and physical contact (NOT RELEVANT!!!)

The symptoms of SAD usually recur regularly each Winter, starting between September and November and continuing until March or April (AND YES,I'VE TRIED LIGHT THERAPY, ST JOHN'S WORT, WALKS AT LUNCTIME, AND ALL THE REST!!I HONESTLY THOUGHT I HAD ESCAPED IT THIS YEAR, BUT IT'S HERE NOW WITH A VENGEANCE! I WISH I WAS A BEAR!!!)

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR