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…)
