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…)

My Dreams

This is not funny!

I dream in black and white.

No, I'm not being poetic, I actually dream in black and white. Its weird, cos I hardly dream yeah, but whenever I do, it looks like I was starring in one of those movies white people watch in movies. I think its a medical condition. The average youth dreams in technicolour. Maybe it has something to do with my fashion sense, but that's by the way. And these dreams aren't normal dreams. Yes, I know, normal dreams aren't normal. But these dreams are just...just way over the posted limit. Its becoming scary to me, maybe I should see a doctor? Or a psychiatrist? Or maybe I should just consult the nearest MFM consortium near me. Maybe all I need is a few cracks of the old fashioned 'koboko' whips to bring my brain cell endings back to their senses, maybe I need to puff a joint, or maybe I'm just normal, and everybody that has "normal" dreams is mad. (Very likely). Enough with the chit chatter, I'm sure you want to know what these dreams are like. I'll explain.

Dream 1:
The last dream I had was not-so-scary (to the best of my knowledge, cos u forget some dreams when you wake up). But in the dream, I was a doctor.

Pause.

Me? A doctor??? I can't stand the very sight of blood!!

But I was a doctor. A successful one! With no wife, no kids! Cos I was just 20. Top rated and all that, with the respect my age superiors craved for. I was Top notch, with access to state-of-the-art facilities and the latest breakthrough in technology and...blah blah blah.

Anyway, I was in the labor room and I was trying to help this woman be delivered of her baby. (This is ironical, cos I can't even watch a complete video of a baby being delivered without cringing.)

But I was helping her through. Soothing her, calming her, doing all the doctor-procedure things. Till finally, she delivered.

MAMA, NA BOY!!!

I turned the boy around to smack his blood-stained baby booty, when the baby boy said (YES PEOPLE! THE BABY BOY SPOKE!):

"Wait! Before you smack me, what is your name doctor."

"Ben Franklin", I said.

"Ben, what state are you from?"

"Benue state"

"Benue? Isn't that in Nigeria?"

"Why, yes it is! I'm glad to see that you are already showing prospects in your current affairs"

"SHUT UP you fool!!! I didn't want to come back to this place!! Fuck this shit!! The fucking baby-transportation system is faulty! I said Benin! (Republic) Not Benue? I want light!! Light!! LIGHT for Pete's sake!!!"

And at that moment, I woke up! Drenched in a pool of my own sweat! No, I wasn't sweating cos of the dream. I was sweating cos of the heat. There was no light!

I see the baby's point.




Dream 2:
In dream two, I was the successful CEO of an IT company.


Yes, I know. Apparently, in all my dreams, I am successful. Forgive me if my subconscious also dreams big.


I was the chairman. Big house, beautiful wife (you know now, no dulling), two wonderful kids, and the best garage men of my cadre could brag about.

And as CEO, a lot of people knew what my ass tasted like. I was invited to all sorts of balls, and dinners and parties of different calibers. But I never went.

One day, my wife got tired of turning all these invites down and decided it was time for us to attend one. So we picked the next black tie event and we started preparing for it.


Apparently, my children were into dinners too, so the whole family was preparing to go. On the evening of the event, I was sitting in the living room with my wife when my "kids" walked in.


You noticed "kids" was in quotes right? Yes. "Kids". Cos they looked nothing like my children.


My "son" was a 3-feet tall, heavily bearded man, with shades, and a big chain around his neck, with a pendant that looked just like his face.


I was taken aback, and I blurted out!

"Who do you think you are?"

He took off his shades, looked me in the face, and said

"Big Meech".

(Ma wife just screams "Halleluyah" for no reason)

And my daughter! My own daughter, came out from behind him wearing a "dress" and a veil to cover her face and her entire body. I couldn't tell the colour of the dress, because as you know, the dream was black and white.

I'm surprised she came out from behind a 4-foot version of Rick Ross, because she was wearing heels that were taller than me. And the dress she was wearing was made out of ponmo!


I was so surprised, I thought I was in one of those Kanye West videos, only to turn around and see ma wife pouting at me with Jay Z lips.


I woke up instantly!


My father once told me to take care of my fears, otherwise, they would haunt my sleep. Apparently, he was right.



People! It has become scary! I don't know what to do anymore. I'm scared of sleep! The people following me on twitter, they all know that I am Chairman, co-founder, deputy CEO of #TeamInsomnia (and we deceive ourselves that sleep is for losers). But sincerely, I would love to get some sleep. I have tried sleeping pills, but that led to Dream 2! I don't want anymore monochrome dreams! What do I do?

No Offense

I mean no offense to lawyers by posting this, It's just that sometimes, they'll have nothing to ask, and end up saying crap!! No offence...Here are some of the questions they asked at such moments:

1. Was that the same nose you broke as a child?

2. Now, doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, in most cases he just passes quietly away and doesn't know anything about it until the next morning?

3. Q: What happened then?
A: He told me, he says, "I have to kill you because you can identify me."
Q: Did he kill you?

4. Was it you or your brother that was killed in the war?

5. The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?

6. Were you alone or by yourself?

7. How long have you been a French Canadian?

8. Do you have any children or anything of that kind?

9. Q: I show you exhibit 3 and ask you if you recognize that picture.
A: That's me.
Q: Were you present when that picture was taken?

10. Were you present in court this morning when you were sworn in?

11. Q: Now, Mrs. Johnson, how was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?

12. Q: Do you know how far pregnant you are now?
A: I'll be three months on November 8.
Q: Apparently, then, the date of conception was August 8?
A: Yes.
Q: What were you doing at that time?

13. Q: Mrs. Jones, do you believe you are emotionally stable?
A: I used to be.
Q: How many times have you committed suicide?

14. So you were gone until you returned?

15. Q: She had three children, right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many were boys?
A: None.
Q: Were there girls?

16. You don't know what it was, and you didn't know what it looked like, but can you describe it?

17. Q: You say that the stairs went down to the basement?
A: Yes.
Q: And these stairs, did they go up also?

18. Q: Have you lived in this town all your life?
A: Not yet.

19. A Texas attorney, realizing he was on the verge of unleashing a stupid question, interrupted himself and said, "Your Honor, I'd like to strike the next question."

20. Q: Do you recall approximately the time that you examined the body of Mr. Edington at the Rose Chapel?
A: It was in the evening. The autopsy started about 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr. Edington was dead at the time, is that correct?
A: No, you stupid, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy!

21. Q: Doctor, before you signed the death certificate, did you check for a pulse?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for blood pressure?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for breathing?
A: No.
Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you signed the certificate?
A: No.
Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar. But now that you mention it, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.

22. Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on DEAD people?

23. Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: He was about medium height and had a beard.
Q: Was this a male, or a female?

24. Q: Mr. Bendega, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?
A: I went to Europe, Sir.
Q: And you took your new wife?

25. Q: How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?

26. Q: You were there until the time you left, is that true?


Picture this:
An attorney was sitting in his office late one night, when the Devil appeared before him.

The Devil told the lawyer, "I have a proposition for you. You can win every case you try, for the rest of your life. Your clients will adore you, your colleagues will stand in awe of you, and you will make embarrassing sums of money. All I want in exchange is your soul, your wife's soul, your children's souls, the souls of your parents, grandparents, and parents-in-law, and the souls of all of your friends and law partners."...hehe

The lawyer thought about this for a moment, then asked, "So, what's the catch?"
..Yes, it is that bad!

On the other hand:
Why are lawyers buried 12 feet deep instead of just six?
Because deep down they really are good people.

(...see, I mean no offense)

I'm Sorry

I walk into the room and she's crying
"Here we go again"
I take a seat, I'm sighing
"What's wrong girl, what's going on?"
"You don't love me no more" "I'm trying"
"I still love you" "You're lying"
"I'm not, its just that our fire"
"Its dying"
"I hate to admit, but there's no point denying"
"Wait, so what are you implying?"
"Nothing. I too can't read between the lines
But if you choose to ignore the signs
Doesn't change the fact that we
Are headed for the mines
And no matter what, I'll still 'love' you
But I've started putting others above you
I wish you didn't have feelings for me
So before we
Start hating each other
Its over
I'm sorry"