Disclaimer

I saw this on Terdoh's blog and I thought it it was funny. So I decided to put it here. (Who woulda thought huh?)


     "THIS IS MY BLOG!! That is basically all you need to know. I don’t have any fancy yarns, big big words, and jaw-cracking sentences to put in this disclaimer to make you understand that you really need to sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and read the words that have happened to move from my medulla to my keypad. If you do not like my sense of humor, it’s probably because you don’t have one and if this shit offends you, Optimus Prime has his arms outstretched. For those of you who do not know who Optimus Prime is, he’s the main Transformer at that junction on your street. Take a cue.

      Also, it so happens that there are gbagauns present in the blog. I haven’t found them. If you happen to find them, please return them to their respective owners. They are not mine. As the title suggests, this is a dis-claimer. (You expect say I go claim gbagaun again?)

      The forces at work here are beyond my control. I used to be funny. I don’t know what happened, but I’m not funny anymore. Shoot me. So if you come here expecting to crack your ribs, I suggest you go fight in the WWE. I cannot help you out here. I am not an alcoholic, but if you show this thing to any member of my family, I will claim to have been under the influence of alcohol. (I doubt that will help though).

      The contents of this blog are for individuals aged 18 and below. Yes, 18 and below. Don’t open the blog expecting some mature shit, I am sorry. I just turned 15 last week. I will be 16 next month. I am as immature as they get. Feel free to take offense at your personal convenience. Its a buffet.

      The contents of this blog were written while I was sipping La Casera Lite. That shit gives me a hard-on, for days at a stretch sometimes, and consequently results in the absence of blood in my big head *coughs* lemme make shit clear…in my bigger head. *wink* so forgive me if some of the words here are not properly strung together to construct a complete and sensible sentence.

      I have no idea what I just typed. (I can say that…it’s a disclaimer). I hope you understand that what goes on here should not be referenced whenever there is an interaction with me. I do not know who Terdoh is. I hope that is clear. *sips La Casera*

If you have read, and you have understood (highly unlikely), then you may proceed.

Thank you.

*sips La Casera again*"

Twitter

Yeah, so Uncle Ben hasn't blogged in like 5 years. Yup. He has been locked up in Terdoo's mind, while Terdoo (poor cat) has been locked up in Prison. Aka Covenant University. Any hoo, the good thing about this prison is that there is wifi. So as bad as it is, we get to tweet. Total bliss for a twitter freak like Ted. So there was this day we were sitting around in his room getting high and listening to Bob Marley's "Redemption Song" when Terdoo started one of his philosophical bullshit. And since twitter only allows you 140 characters, he chose my home, my haven, my internet space to vent. Of course I allowed him. The last couple times I tried to reason with him didn't end so well. So, this is his crap. As usual.

"Twitter.

One word. One world. It's amazing how many connections and relationships have been made, broken, mended, amended, jeopardized, sterilized, etc in this "Project" a group of guys embarked on. 

It's also amazing how many people are on it and how many new people join everyday. With the new era of Smart-phones (most of which are operated by rather dim witted people) every body is either on twitter, or about to join because of the fear of being regarded as a member of the cast of the movie "The gods must be crazy". 

But what has to be the most amazing thing about this virtual world (emphasis...major emphasis on the word "Virtual") is how serious people take twitter. It's amazing. Yes, twitter is jokes, witty sayings, funny and sarcastic responses and generally what is happening around you (a privilege abused by many transvestite beings). But recently, twitter has become a forum for "children" who have decided to convert it to a bowl where they wash their undoubtedly dirty linen in virtual public. 

I digress. And this here is my reason for uploading this post. I just want to say that this site with 140 characters, the DM, a few followers and followees, the "@" symbol, a handle and one lousy picture is NOT real life. This statement cannot be overstressed. 

And please stop Twitfights. That shit is seriously immature. Wouldn't it be easier to resolve your differences (if you really have any) in real life or over the phone. Cos trust me, it costs less. No one involved in a twitfight can ever command respect from a neutral bystander. 

Quote me. 

Oh, and the argument of who has more followers? Seriously? (no...seriously!!?) C,mon men! What's next? You'll include that in kpanshing prices? People who are bothered about how many followers they have should be referred to when the question of "How much diapers cost?" is brought up. Go figure. 

I think I have made my point. This topic has been over-blogged about, and it really doesn't need me to stress it more. Just remember that twitter is not real. It never was, it never will be. Grow up and have fun."

And I, Ben Franklin, happen to totally agree with him. Just this once. :)

Toasted

This is not funny. This shit actually happened.


One fateful day, I was walking down ma street. Cool breeze, nice weather, it was the kind of day when nothing could go wrong. (Apparently, whenever you have one of those days, just stay at home. Will ya?) Anyway, I was walking down the street when I got approached by this hot "chick".

Yup. Not the other way around. I got approached. #NoJoke

And "she" went, "I think you're really cute, and we should get together sometime. Might be worth your while. How about tomorrow night?"

I was startled. Ma jaw wide open, I didn't know what to tell "her". I mean, this "girl" was damn fine. The kind I'll not have the cohonas to approach, asking me on a date.

"she" smiled and went; "gimme a call, here's my number."

Then "she" pulled up ma shirt sleeve, took lipstick from "her" purse, and wrote down "her" number on ma fore-arm.

I felt molested and exalted at the same time. I just got toasted by a hot "female", I mean, how many guys get to say that. But "she" just wrote "her" number down on ma arm. In lipstick! That was unorthodox.

Anyway, the next day, I called "her". Using ma sexiest masculine tone, and asked "her" where we should meet. "she" gave me an address, I got ready, and went to "her" crib.

so I get up to the chick's crib, which isn't too far from mine, "she" welcomes me, asks me to feel at home, and offers me a drink.

Now, many of my friends have drugged girls that happened to stroll into their domot. I forgot that in this situation, I was the girl. In more ways than one, as I was soon to find out.

"she" brought the drinks and we toasted to new friendship. Ah! Had I known.

Here comes the good part. "she" sits on ma lap, and we start kissing. 5 minutes later, we moved on to touching. Next thing, we're in 3rd base.

"she" takes off the buttons on ma shirt, and unbuckles my belt. Then "she" kneels on the floor, brings out ma dick, and literally blows my mind.

I'm ecstatic! Feeling like Drake, Best head I've ever had!


This is where things get a little confusing. A little.

"she" gets up, wipes "her" lips, unbuckles "her" own belt, and whips out a dick that's bigger than mine, and says in the most masculine voice I've ever heard;

"Your turn bitch!"

Pause.

I know you've been wondering why the words "she", "girl", "her" and "female" have been in quotes since.

Well, now you know.

Apparently, I was about to have sex with a she-male. But enough about me let's get back to the story.

"Your turn bitch!"

I scream!!!!!! Then I pull up ma pants and make for the door!

"she" is faster!

"she" grabs hold of ma legs and says; "you aint going nowhere bitch! I didn't just blow you for fun, you better get on your knees and toss my salad."

At this point, I am frantic! I begin to kick and push and shove and yell;

"I am nobody's bitch! I will not toss ur salad! I am not sucking anyone's dick!! No way! No way!!"

"she" is really strong. "she" overpowers me and strips me naked, and just as "she" is about to stick "her" 7-inch dick in ma asshole, I wake up!

I sat on the floor. Drenched in sweat. Happy it was just a dream, happy that my butt-crack hadn't been expanded beyond Pluto, happy I didn't actually just get blown by a "girl", just plain happy. Till I looked around me.

There are broken bottles and lamps, and vases in the room, and Tedo was standing at the door of the room with a camcorder and a wicked smile.

Tedo: Nigga! Gay ass negro! You dreaming about dropping the soap? Was this one in black and white too?

Me: yeah.

Tedo: You gonna blog about it?

Me: no.

Tedo: *closes cam* Too bad. Now I have to upload this vid on you-tube.

so this is me, blogging about ma third white-and-black dream. Hoping it will stop him from uploading that shameful video of a grown ass man begging to be nobody's bitch.


Ps: I am not gay. :|

Pure Bullshit

It’s been a really long time since I blogged…I apologize. I have had absolutely nothing going through my mind. But as it so happened, I was having a conversation with my best friend Tedo, and the dude wants me to put an excerpt from some major crap he wrote down. I wanted to decline, but the fellow is pretty smart. This is exactly what happened;

Me: *knocks on Tedo’s door*

Tedo: Don’t come in, I’m dressing up.

Me: *walks right in that mother fucker*

Tedo: Reverse psychology always works on you doesn’t it? Ode. And no, I am not talking about the type of poem.

Me: Huh? Is that supposed to be a crack?

Tedo: No. It’s supposed to be a serial code.

Me: Nigga what??

Tedo: and you call yourself a genius? I’ve been promoting you since oh. Don’t fall my left leg.

Me: Say what?!! Who be dis?! I dey comot sef!

Tedo: Chill…what did you come for in the first place? To see me naked huh?? HOMO sapien.

Me: Me?? Homo?? Have you seen Onosa’s blog?

Tedo: Yup. That doesn’t change a thing. Oh, and how is your blog?

Me: My blog? That piece of crap? (I did not say that…) It’s dusty. Harmattan and all.

Tedo: Hey! I wrote some stuff down in my chemistry class…would you want to put it in your blog?

Me: You don’t even do chemistry!

Tedo: That’s not the point!

Me: So what’s the point?

Tedo: I want ma shit on the net. I would love to be “famous” like you. (Yes people, he actually put up both his index and middle fingers and went; “famous”)

Me: NO! *straightface*

Tedo: Please?

Me: NO!! *maintains the surprisingly straight face*

Tedo: Please na? The last time I begged someone like this was when I was asking for head from your….erm, hmmm….never mind.

Me: *doesn’t hear that part*. I said no oh! Bloody Nigerian.

Tedo: If you don’t put this shit up, I will tell everybody about your 1.46 TB of porn.

Me: *gasps* you wouldn’t dare!

Tedo: Try me!

(Told you he was smart…now I have to put up his crap just to save face…choi!)

Beginning of his Crap:

“The desire to love….the apparent need to want and to be wanted…the lust for lust, and the love of attention. Love. The reason that Mark Anthony dude waged war on Julius Caesar, The reason Eddie will not let Bella go even though he knows Jacob is some tough competition, the same reason Shank killed over a thousand people, the reason Virgil will not let us hear word, the reason a man will freeze in the cold while the shawty beside him warms up his jacket material, the reason Echo (the myth) is what she is today, the reason Adam (Bruno Mars oshi) ate that apple.

Love is a bitch.

(Yes I said it…shoot me na)

And maybe I can go as far as saying with the youth of today, Love (Agape) is just another myth.

Maybe…

Ask yourself; does love really exist?

Look at this from the man’s perspective:

Women say they want love, romance but they want a walking check list. Is he tall? Is he cute? Does he have money? They want us to believe they are the victims, that we (men) have their hearts for spoil. Is he perfect? For u men who fit the criteria, don’t kid yourself, if they are not with u, they are with this carefully calculated  set of choices...looks over soul, money over substance, polish over principles, no gesture no matter how real or romantic will ever compensate  for a really impressive list of credentials. A girl in heat for two guys will always go for the one with the better resume.

Now see it from the girl’s perspective:

Men say they want the perfect woman. Fine doesn’t cut it anymore. Drop-dead-gorgeous is the desired adjective. Can she turn heads? Twice? Can she cook? Clean? Can she make my ex look bad? Will she demand for too much? Is she independent? Can she give me my space? Yes…another walking check-list. Men will pick beauty over character (and in this case, love) any day. Maybe I speak for myself…

Maybe.

I think I should go back to the point. Love (true love) does not exist…at least not anymore. A man or woman will jump at the opportunity to “upgrade” his or her relationship if the opportunity presents itself. Look around you…do you really think it does?

No?

Well, me neither. True love doesn’t exist at our level anymore. We just enjoy the thought of possessing a walking check-list, and that is all.

This might just be another pessimist’s point of view.

Maybe…”

End of his crap.

*long, protracted and obviously frustrated hiss*

This guy just wasted good internet space! I will not waste your time further. That Low Self Esteem ridden chairman has wasted it enough already. Thank you for not commenting, you’ll just be making him happy. I’m sorry. This form of blackmail won’t happen again.

Signed.

Management. (That’s me by the way…)