Friday, September 30, 2011

PAYABLE ON DEATH



What's left
When on life, the sun sets
And we breathe,
Our last breath?

What stays behind
When the body sighs
And on the world,
Eyes close for the last time?

Is it heaven or is it hell
Can you tell
Where the souls go
When they leave thier shells

I heard all debts
Everything owed from life spent
Are payable
On death

[Also see on Facebook]

PAYABLE ON DEATH



What's left
When on life, the sun sets
And we breathe,
Our last breath?

What stays behind
When the body sighs
And on the world,
Eyes close for the last time?

Is it heaven or is it hell
Can you tell
Where the souls go
When they leave thier shells

I heard all debts
Everything owed from life spent
Are payable
On death

[Also see on Facebook]

Thursday, September 29, 2011

UNIBOOB!



Do I know Dinora Rodriguez?

Nah, I’ve never heard that name before, I swear!

Am sure alotta of y’all never heard the name before too; I can bet my bottom dollar on that... as if I got some! Lol.

Well, not anymore, bout two days ago I heard about Dinora for the first time and yesterday, I “met” her and ever since, I can’t seem to get my mind off her. Matter of fact, am lookin’ her right now as a write this, she’s right there in front of me... lookin’ all pretty and shit. Am checkin’ her out as she touches on her make-up, you know, powderin’ her rosy cheeks, shadowin’ her pretty eyes, glossin’ her cherry lips and whole works. She’s beautiful but she doesn’t “sound” like a happy woman, she “sounds” regretful!

Am lookin’ her boobs right now and they look like good food to me, all round and palmful. Have I ever told y’all my boy Kevin Soje used to call me Tits’ Man? Well real recognize real cause I call him the same but, that’s a blog for another day.

Dinora Rodriguez is a 40 year old American woman from Los Angeles, CA. whom I’ve been tryna get up in my room ever since I heard about her boobs and how famous she’s become because of ‘em. I know some of you will be thinkin’, oh Dobs is such a gold digger. Well, eat your heart out!

So, am lickin’ my thick lips while starin’ at Dinora’s beautiful boobs for what seems like eternity, then I blinked and the juicy boobs were replaced by one huge boob right in front of my eyes... those juicy milky jugs had fuckin’ morphed into one; A UNIBOOB!

What! I tried to calm myself and listen to she she had to say…here it is:

She had gone to some ill-qualify surgeon to have breast implants (though, she didn’t know it then, she had been fooled by the Dr’s white coat... the motherfucka was not a qualified plastic surgeon), the surgeon had cut through two tissue “pockets” that normally hold breast tissue which meant the implants were able to come together in the middle thereby makin’ them jugs look like a single breast, or a UNI fuckin’ BOOB!

As if walkin’ around wit’ one boob ain’t enough, Dinora will live the rest of her life with her pretty eyes open, as in, literally open... shawty’s eyes can’t close anymore because the same surgeon who blessed her a uniboob also performed a nip-tuck operation on her eyelids and she unable to fuckin’ close ‘em!

Though, a corrective has since been done on Dinora’s cowbells, her eyes will forever be open... isn’t it ironic?

I put down the printed copies of Mrs. Dinora Rodriguez’s story I got off the internet and am wonderin’, why do people put themselves through unnecessary danger tryna fix some’ that ain’t really broken. Yeah, I know there are some plastic surgeries that are necessary but alotta these chicks are jus’ fuckin’ obsessed for nothin’.

UNIBOOB!



Do I know Dinora Rodriguez?

Nah, I’ve never heard that name before, I swear!

Am sure alotta of y’all never heard the name before too; I can bet my bottom dollar on that... as if I got some! Lol.

Well, not anymore, bout two days ago I heard about Dinora for the first time and yesterday, I “met” her and ever since, I can’t seem to get my mind off her. Matter of fact, am lookin’ her right now as a write this, she’s right there in front of me... lookin’ all pretty and shit. Am checkin’ her out as she touches on her make-up, you know, powderin’ her rosy cheeks, shadowin’ her pretty eyes, glossin’ her cherry lips and whole works. She’s beautiful but she doesn’t “sound” like a happy woman, she “sounds” regretful!

Am lookin’ her boobs right now and they look like good food to me, all round and palmful. Have I ever told y’all my boy Kevin Soje used to call me Tits’ Man? Well real recognize real cause I call him the same but, that’s a blog for another day.

Dinora Rodriguez is a 40 year old American woman from Los Angeles, CA. whom I’ve been tryna get up in my room ever since I heard about her boobs and how famous she’s become because of ‘em. I know some of you will be thinkin’, oh Dobs is such a gold digger. Well, eat your heart out!

So, am lickin’ my thick lips while starin’ at Dinora’s beautiful boobs for what seems like eternity, then I blinked and the juicy boobs were replaced by one huge boob right in front of my eyes... those juicy milky jugs had fuckin’ morphed into one; A UNIBOOB!

What! I tried to calm myself and listen to she she had to say…here it is:

She had gone to some ill-qualify surgeon to have breast implants (though, she didn’t know it then, she had been fooled by the Dr’s white coat... the motherfucka was not a qualified plastic surgeon), the surgeon had cut through two tissue “pockets” that normally hold breast tissue which meant the implants were able to come together in the middle thereby makin’ them jugs look like a single breast, or a UNI fuckin’ BOOB!

As if walkin’ around wit’ one boob ain’t enough, Dinora will live the rest of her life with her pretty eyes open, as in, literally open... shawty’s eyes can’t close anymore because the same surgeon who blessed her a uniboob also performed a nip-tuck operation on her eyelids and she unable to fuckin’ close ‘em!

Though, a corrective has since been done on Dinora’s cowbells, her eyes will forever be open... isn’t it ironic?

I put down the printed copies of Mrs. Dinora Rodriguez’s story I got off the internet and am wonderin’, why do people put themselves through unnecessary danger tryna fix some’ that ain’t really broken. Yeah, I know there are some plastic surgeries that are necessary but alotta these chicks are jus’ fuckin’ obsessed for nothin’.

THE DAY I TOOK PICTURE WIT' HISTORY



Saturday, the 24th of September, round 01:30 in the AM
The entire metro of Lusaka was celebratin’; they were partyin’ like its 2099! It was a party they knew was comin’ but they had to put a “hold on” sign on it jus’ to be certain and sure enough, they got their confirmation in the wee hours.

From the moment the final results of the Presidential Election were announced and the underdog came out tops like most folks anticipated, the whole country (well, maybe not the whole but more than half of the population) crank their celebration meter a million notches up and poured out into the streets even at the time of the night. The highways were flooded with cars blarin’ their horns and shit, and of course, bottles were poppin ’non-stop... now, bottle poppin’ is an everyday thing for folks round here, I mean, on any given day, these guys drink like its goin’ outta style... if boozin’ was a sport, they’ll be competin’ for gold! So y’all can imagine what the situation was like when these guys actually got an occasion as big as this to celebrate, they freakin’ got the bar men pullin’ an all nighter!

When daylight came, I told myself to get my ass out there to check out how crazy the city had got and most definitely, drop in on the Swearing-in Ceremony at the Federal High Court. Now, you’re probably wonderin’ why the hell am gon’ put my ass through the unnecessary hassles of standin’ in the swelterin’ saharan sun wit’ a million others, ass-bumpin’ each other jus’ to witness the swearing in of a President that isn’t mine? Well, am doin’ it ‘cause I sensed history was bout to be made. I told myself shit like this don’t always happen out here in Africa. Our punk ass leaders always try every trick in the dictators’ book of how to die in power to hang on to that shit.

12:00
With the sun blazin’ high up in the sky, I made my way ‘round one of the best neighborhoods in town. Two streets from the crib, I ran into a pleasant surprise, people were goin’ buckwild, singin’ and getting’ their ridiculousity on on the street. I asked some chick what was goin’ down and she told me the president (as in, the newly crowned) lives there! I thought to myself, oh I didn’t know that and I walk by this street almost every day... and would you believe if I told y’all Ho’s sell pussy on that street every blessed night?

As I got close to the venue of the inauguration, all cars and I mean all cars, had jus’ one song seepin’ out their speakers... Dandy Krazy’s Donchi Kubeba! That joint had everybody goin’ shhhh with their index fingers across their lips! That right there was the unofficial soundtrack for the opposition’s (now, the rulin’ party) march to victory... it was and still is an anthem.

I moved through the throng of people, some touts dancin’ half naked all sweaty and shit (I got my cameral ready, half-hopin’ I’d run into chicks dancin’ naked…alas, no such luck), others were hangin’ on trees tryna that hard-to-come-by good view of the swearing-in box. And me? I wasn’t interested in the whole ceremony thing; I was there to watch the people watchin’ the ceremony and all the goings on in the background.

13:30
30 minutes into my side-show watchin’ and photo-takin’, I made my way to the posh Intercontinental Hotel, and what was I doin’ there? I had absolutely no idea... funny, huh? Anyways, there I was front’n like I was there to meet somebody and who did I run into... the incredible Mr. Guy Scott! The moment I saw him, I only had one thing in mind; take a freakin’ picture with him... As he moved out the lounge with his fam and security details, I stepped up and asked him for a picture and to my surprise, he said yeah! While I was tryna get a good shot as we moved, other folks were tryna squeeze their bitch asses into my photo…snap snap snap squeezin’ out as many shots as possible. In the back of my mind, I knew I had to get a shot where I’d at least look as good my nigga Guy.

I went back to the hotel lounge to check the pictures out and yeah, I got acoupla ok shots alright but I look like shit compared to that smooth nigga Guy Scott! After goin’ through the ten shots I took, I could only find one picture where I looked presentable... can you imagine that!

28th September
As I write this, I’ve checked out the one good picture of me and Mr. Scott more than ten times. I am tempted to post this lil’ adventure of my today but I told myself to sit on it for another day. I heard the new Prez gon’ make a major announcement tomor’. Now, what would effect would the President’s announcement have on me? Pro’ly nada but am determined not to post this shit today.

Today, the 29th of September
Guy Scott was named the new Vice President of the Federal Republic of Zambia…and oh, Guy Scott is white!





THE DAY I TOOK PICTURE WIT' HISTORY



Saturday, the 24th of September, round 01:30 in the AM
The entire metro of Lusaka was celebratin’; they were partyin’ like its 2099! It was a party they knew was comin’ but they had to put a “hold on” sign on it jus’ to be certain and sure enough, they got their confirmation in the wee hours.

From the moment the final results of the Presidential Election were announced and the underdog came out tops like most folks anticipated, the whole country (well, maybe not the whole but more than half of the population) crank their celebration meter a million notches up and poured out into the streets even at the time of the night. The highways were flooded with cars blarin’ their horns and shit, and of course, bottles were poppin ’non-stop... now, bottle poppin’ is an everyday thing for folks round here, I mean, on any given day, these guys drink like its goin’ outta style... if boozin’ was a sport, they’ll be competin’ for gold! So y’all can imagine what the situation was like when these guys actually got an occasion as big as this to celebrate, they freakin’ got the bar men pullin’ an all nighter!

When daylight came, I told myself to get my ass out there to check out how crazy the city had got and most definitely, drop in on the Swearing-in Ceremony at the Federal High Court. Now, you’re probably wonderin’ why the hell am gon’ put my ass through the unnecessary hassles of standin’ in the swelterin’ saharan sun wit’ a million others, ass-bumpin’ each other jus’ to witness the swearing in of a President that isn’t mine? Well, am doin’ it ‘cause I sensed history was bout to be made. I told myself shit like this don’t always happen out here in Africa. Our punk ass leaders always try every trick in the dictators’ book of how to die in power to hang on to that shit.

12:00
With the sun blazin’ high up in the sky, I made my way ‘round one of the best neighborhoods in town. Two streets from the crib, I ran into a pleasant surprise, people were goin’ buckwild, singin’ and getting’ their ridiculousity on on the street. I asked some chick what was goin’ down and she told me the president (as in, the newly crowned) lives there! I thought to myself, oh I didn’t know that and I walk by this street almost every day... and would you believe if I told y’all Ho’s sell pussy on that street every blessed night?

As I got close to the venue of the inauguration, all cars and I mean all cars, had jus’ one song seepin’ out their speakers... Dandy Krazy’s Donchi Kubeba! That joint had everybody goin’ shhhh with their index fingers across their lips! That right there was the unofficial soundtrack for the opposition’s (now, the rulin’ party) march to victory... it was and still is an anthem.

I moved through the throng of people, some touts dancin’ half naked all sweaty and shit (I got my cameral ready, half-hopin’ I’d run into chicks dancin’ naked…alas, no such luck), others were hangin’ on trees tryna that hard-to-come-by good view of the swearing-in box. And me? I wasn’t interested in the whole ceremony thing; I was there to watch the people watchin’ the ceremony and all the goings on in the background.

13:30
30 minutes into my side-show watchin’ and photo-takin’, I made my way to the posh Intercontinental Hotel, and what was I doin’ there? I had absolutely no idea... funny, huh? Anyways, there I was front’n like I was there to meet somebody and who did I run into... the incredible Mr. Guy Scott! The moment I saw him, I only had one thing in mind; take a freakin’ picture with him... As he moved out the lounge with his fam and security details, I stepped up and asked him for a picture and to my surprise, he said yeah! While I was tryna get a good shot as we moved, other folks were tryna squeeze their bitch asses into my photo…snap snap snap squeezin’ out as many shots as possible. In the back of my mind, I knew I had to get a shot where I’d at least look as good my nigga Guy.

I went back to the hotel lounge to check the pictures out and yeah, I got acoupla ok shots alright but I look like shit compared to that smooth nigga Guy Scott! After goin’ through the ten shots I took, I could only find one picture where I looked presentable... can you imagine that!

28th September
As I write this, I’ve checked out the one good picture of me and Mr. Scott more than ten times. I am tempted to post this lil’ adventure of my today but I told myself to sit on it for another day. I heard the new Prez gon’ make a major announcement tomor’. Now, what would effect would the President’s announcement have on me? Pro’ly nada but am determined not to post this shit today.

Today, the 29th of September
Guy Scott was named the new Vice President of the Federal Republic of Zambia…and oh, Guy Scott is white!





Thursday, September 22, 2011

BUSCAPADE



I like public bus rides despite the fact that I got my own whip, a 2010 Range Rover parked somewhere at a secret location. See, am a rich ass dude but I don’t fit the mode of those stuck-up rich cats who wring their noses at the average Joes who take public transport to work or wherever it is that they go. I like meetin’ different characters, I like the drama they bring and you’d be amazed at the strange things you can see and learn from jus’ talkin’, observin’ or listenin’ in on the conversations on a public bus.

Can I make a confession? Ummm, the Range I mentioned earlier is still at the dealership, waitin’ for a buyer and that buyer is not me, at least, not for now! Fact is, I don’t own a car... I don’t even own a bicycle dammit Lol! Had to quickly throw the I-don’t-own-a-car part in there before those who know me well catch me in a web lies but I got plans to go scoop that Range up as soon as I hit pay dirt. I promise!

If you’ve never taken a ride on a city bus before, you’re missin’ a whole damn lot, can I get a witness? And yep, my lil’ romance wit’ public buses have got nada to do wit the fact that I don’t have a car... so, please, kill that thought about Dobs jus’ tryna hide behind the fact that he doesn’t own a car to justify his bus-ridin’ ass. Lmao! Truth is, if you can look past some of the discomforts, public bus rides can be fun.

*Clears throat* I know some of y’all might have a thing or two to say about what am gon’ say next but hey, I rep my city... so, as far as am concerned, only one city in the whole wide world offers the most interestin ’public bus ride experience…the soap-opera out there on a public bus in the city of Lagos is unparallel!

Lagos is the only city I know wit’ its own specially shaped bus. I know some of y’all (who aren’t Nigerians) might have seen one of those yellow beast wit two stripes in one or two Nollywood home videos... am talkin’ bout the infamous MOLUE! I swear a whole town can fit in one of those. Lagosians who’ve got no car (and that’s a lot of ‘em) are often “sardine’d” on that lovely beast. Jus’ like the late great afro Beat Legend Fela sang in one of his hit records, “21 sittin’ 99 standin”, no space is wasted. You’ll see folks “lapping” (sittin’ wit another person sittin’ on your laps) each other, some standin’ ass to crotch on the aisle and some hangin’ precariously by the door!

Are you wonderin’ why I took y’all through all this chest-beatin’ and praise-singin’ bout my city and its infamous Molue buses? Of course, you are!

Well, somethin’ happened to my friend in Lagos yesterday (21 Sept.,) while she was on her way home. She got on a small (a Danfo) and sat in front wit’ the driver. Did I mention that my friend is a fine piece of work? Well, she is…anyways; she hadn’t even settled her pretty ass on the bus properly, than the driver started leanin’ into her and shit. The lil’ lean-move away-lean game continued for a bit but then the incubus in the driver’s head took complete control of him and somethin’ weird happened... the mutherfucker started rubbin’ on his dick wit’ his free hand. When shawty noticed what was goin’ on under her nose, she was stunned! When she found her voice, she told the pervert to pull to the shoulder and promptly jumped off like the damn bus was on fire!

I’ve heard so many “Buscapades” but that right there, is up there wit’ the strangest of ‘em! I got my lil’ buscapades too by the way but I ain’t tellin’... *sticks tongue out*.

BUSCAPADE



I like public bus rides despite the fact that I got my own whip, a 2010 Range Rover parked somewhere at a secret location. See, am a rich ass dude but I don’t fit the mode of those stuck-up rich cats who wring their noses at the average Joes who take public transport to work or wherever it is that they go. I like meetin’ different characters, I like the drama they bring and you’d be amazed at the strange things you can see and learn from jus’ talkin’, observin’ or listenin’ in on the conversations on a public bus.

Can I make a confession? Ummm, the Range I mentioned earlier is still at the dealership, waitin’ for a buyer and that buyer is not me, at least, not for now! Fact is, I don’t own a car... I don’t even own a bicycle dammit Lol! Had to quickly throw the I-don’t-own-a-car part in there before those who know me well catch me in a web lies but I got plans to go scoop that Range up as soon as I hit pay dirt. I promise!

If you’ve never taken a ride on a city bus before, you’re missin’ a whole damn lot, can I get a witness? And yep, my lil’ romance wit’ public buses have got nada to do wit the fact that I don’t have a car... so, please, kill that thought about Dobs jus’ tryna hide behind the fact that he doesn’t own a car to justify his bus-ridin’ ass. Lmao! Truth is, if you can look past some of the discomforts, public bus rides can be fun.

*Clears throat* I know some of y’all might have a thing or two to say about what am gon’ say next but hey, I rep my city... so, as far as am concerned, only one city in the whole wide world offers the most interestin ’public bus ride experience…the soap-opera out there on a public bus in the city of Lagos is unparallel!

Lagos is the only city I know wit’ its own specially shaped bus. I know some of y’all (who aren’t Nigerians) might have seen one of those yellow beast wit two stripes in one or two Nollywood home videos... am talkin’ bout the infamous MOLUE! I swear a whole town can fit in one of those. Lagosians who’ve got no car (and that’s a lot of ‘em) are often “sardine’d” on that lovely beast. Jus’ like the late great afro Beat Legend Fela sang in one of his hit records, “21 sittin’ 99 standin”, no space is wasted. You’ll see folks “lapping” (sittin’ wit another person sittin’ on your laps) each other, some standin’ ass to crotch on the aisle and some hangin’ precariously by the door!

Are you wonderin’ why I took y’all through all this chest-beatin’ and praise-singin’ bout my city and its infamous Molue buses? Of course, you are!

Well, somethin’ happened to my friend in Lagos yesterday (21 Sept.,) while she was on her way home. She got on a small (a Danfo) and sat in front wit’ the driver. Did I mention that my friend is a fine piece of work? Well, she is…anyways; she hadn’t even settled her pretty ass on the bus properly, than the driver started leanin’ into her and shit. The lil’ lean-move away-lean game continued for a bit but then the incubus in the driver’s head took complete control of him and somethin’ weird happened... the mutherfucker started rubbin’ on his dick wit’ his free hand. When shawty noticed what was goin’ on under her nose, she was stunned! When she found her voice, she told the pervert to pull to the shoulder and promptly jumped off like the damn bus was on fire!

I’ve heard so many “Buscapades” but that right there, is up there wit’ the strangest of ‘em! I got my lil’ buscapades too by the way but I ain’t tellin’... *sticks tongue out*.

AL-SHABAB and THE STRANGE PRIZE



Imagin’ this...

You’re listenin’ to a quiz (Islamic recitation and general knowledge) program for young boys between the age of 10 and 17 years on the radio and the announcer jus’ called out the name of the first prize winner.

*In Somalian accent* our first prize winner is 11 years old Osama Bin Dobs and for his brilliant effort, he’ll take home $700 (seven hundred dollars) and...

When I heard what the other prize was, all I could say was "what the fuck? Are these guys serious?"

Did I mention that this quiz competition was put together by Al fuckin’ Shabab! Al Shabab, are you kiddin’ me!

Is any of my Muslim friends offended? Please, don’t be. Your boy’s is not on that islamophobe route…nah, none of that. I don’t swing dat way. It’s not how I get down and I know some’ y’all already know dat but, but wow, am still shakin’ my head at the latest antic by this war-mongerin’ Al-Qaeda affiliate.

Jus’ in case some of you ain’t ever heard of Al-Shabab, am gon’ try my best to break down who these guys are and their lil’ shenanigans. They are an Islamic (at least, that’s what they frontin’ as) organization but I can tell y’all for sure that this bunch are everythin’ but Islamic. Am I being judgmental? I think not... I mean, these systematically recruited kids as young as eight years old as child soldiers.

Islam is a religion of peace, right? Well, that was the original plan laid down by the Holy Prophet Himself so many years ago. But then, these fundamentalists, Al-Shabab, Al-Qaeda and ‘em came along and change the plan up, scrape the peace off, paint over it and put their own label on things... they fuckin’ gave the religion of peace a bad name...

Al-fuckin’ Shabab! Am still shakin’ my head at these heartless folks in military fatigue and turban. Al-fuckin’ Shabab!

As I bang this piece out the laptop, up in Somalia, folks are dyin’ by the truckloads from hunger. Oh, wait, did I say hunger? I meant famine (severe lack of food for a large population) and its smack right in the middle of Al-Shabab strongholds. These Quran wavin’ islamist militants until recently, had banned foreign assistance to it starvin’ population. Its members have also been known to hijack for themselves food and aid deliveries meant for the dyin’.

Did you get the picture I jus’ painted (of Al-Shabab)? Did you think of what that second prize might be? Give it up already cause am sure you’d never guess what that second prize is..

*In Somalian accent*... A GUN! Yep, that was the other prize... a gun for lil’ Osama Bin Dobs.

Are you shocked? I wasn’t but I was sure surprised. Here’s the full list of the prizes:

  • First prize: $700 and a gun
  • Second prize: a gun
  • Third prize: two grenades

My question is, if these punks are so Islamic, why didn’t they give Quran and other Islamic and educational materials?

Now, am askin’ myself, what kinda adults will these lil’ fellas grow up to be?

AL-SHABAB and THE STRANGE PRIZE



Imagin’ this...

You’re listenin’ to a quiz (Islamic recitation and general knowledge) program for young boys between the age of 10 and 17 years on the radio and the announcer jus’ called out the name of the first prize winner.

*In Somalian accent* our first prize winner is 11 years old Osama Bin Dobs and for his brilliant effort, he’ll take home $700 (seven hundred dollars) and...

When I heard what the other prize was, all I could say was "what the fuck? Are these guys serious?"

Did I mention that this quiz competition was put together by Al fuckin’ Shabab! Al Shabab, are you kiddin’ me!

Is any of my Muslim friends offended? Please, don’t be. Your boy’s is not on that islamophobe route…nah, none of that. I don’t swing dat way. It’s not how I get down and I know some’ y’all already know dat but, but wow, am still shakin’ my head at the latest antic by this war-mongerin’ Al-Qaeda affiliate.

Jus’ in case some of you ain’t ever heard of Al-Shabab, am gon’ try my best to break down who these guys are and their lil’ shenanigans. They are an Islamic (at least, that’s what they frontin’ as) organization but I can tell y’all for sure that this bunch are everythin’ but Islamic. Am I being judgmental? I think not... I mean, these systematically recruited kids as young as eight years old as child soldiers.

Islam is a religion of peace, right? Well, that was the original plan laid down by the Holy Prophet Himself so many years ago. But then, these fundamentalists, Al-Shabab, Al-Qaeda and ‘em came along and change the plan up, scrape the peace off, paint over it and put their own label on things... they fuckin’ gave the religion of peace a bad name...

Al-fuckin’ Shabab! Am still shakin’ my head at these heartless folks in military fatigue and turban. Al-fuckin’ Shabab!

As I bang this piece out the laptop, up in Somalia, folks are dyin’ by the truckloads from hunger. Oh, wait, did I say hunger? I meant famine (severe lack of food for a large population) and its smack right in the middle of Al-Shabab strongholds. These Quran wavin’ islamist militants until recently, had banned foreign assistance to it starvin’ population. Its members have also been known to hijack for themselves food and aid deliveries meant for the dyin’.

Did you get the picture I jus’ painted (of Al-Shabab)? Did you think of what that second prize might be? Give it up already cause am sure you’d never guess what that second prize is..

*In Somalian accent*... A GUN! Yep, that was the other prize... a gun for lil’ Osama Bin Dobs.

Are you shocked? I wasn’t but I was sure surprised. Here’s the full list of the prizes:

  • First prize: $700 and a gun
  • Second prize: a gun
  • Third prize: two grenades

My question is, if these punks are so Islamic, why didn’t they give Quran and other Islamic and educational materials?

Now, am askin’ myself, what kinda adults will these lil’ fellas grow up to be?

Monday, September 19, 2011

DIRTY DANCIN' GONE WRONG


Time: 19:20
Location: Sports Bar.
Day: Sunday the 18th of September

“Baby, gimme jus’ one more night
One more night
‘cause I can’t live wit’ out you”

Busy Signal’s One More Night (a remake of Phil Collins timeless classic) jus’ started bleedin’ out the speakers and I can’t help but give special attention to the spectacle unfoldin’ right in front of where am perched up on the high stool by the wall (sippin’ on water bottled water, of course). Though, this couple’s been dancin’ before now, I paid them no mind but as soon as this record came on, the chick went “whooooa!” and slowly started grindin’ her thick badonkadonk on the lil’ nigga she’s with…and nah, am not playa hatin’ on a brotha tryna have a good (grind) time but let’s jus’ say, am not impressed with the way the brotha’s grabbin’ dat ass without panache. But goddamn! Shawtie knows how to work dat behind, she’s puttin’ in overtime puttin’ her back into it and like MacDonald, am lovin’ this!

I whip out the laptop from my backpack and started typin’ this, alternatin’ my attention between typin’ this stuff, watchin’ the recaps of today’s premiership games on TV and monitorin’ the “breakin’ news” breakin’ right in front of me…am nosey like that but am classy about it!

Oh, I know some of you are sayin’ in your minds right now like, “what the fuck is news bout a couple grindin’ up on each other” or “go fuckin’ get a job, Dobs” but hold your horses and wait til’ I tell y’all what am seein’…I need a job, by the way!

And yep, you guessed it, am actually writin’ this shit in a sports bar or whatever you wanta call it. Got my laptop wit’ me jus’ in case your ass is doubtin’ me, had gone to the cafĂ© wit’ it earlier to post the blog bout DMX and his tenth child ( you should go read it, if you haven’t read it yet and if you have, read it again and again and again…lol). The Man. United – Chelsea game jus’ concluded and you already know the result, don’t y’all? “We” (as in, Man. U) fuckin’ blew the “Blues” away; three goals to one…champion stuff! *clears throat* I think Fernando Torres needs to spend a couple of hours layin’ on a psychiatrist’s couch, soccer fans all over the world know why.

19:30
The laptop grumbles, tellin’ me the juice in the battery is runnin’ low and it’d be out in 10 minutes. So, am gonna have to shut this shit down and continue when I get home. In the mean time, am gonna watch how this slow dance pans out.

*********************
Time: 08:40
Location: Crib
Day: Monday the 19th of September

*goes to the radio, flips the channel* Rick Ross and Lil’ Weezy are busy lying bout how they got chopper in the car…ridiculousity!

Ok, so I didn’t get to finish writin’ this piece last night but here we I go with the rest of the “bulgin’’ gist…did you catch that? The operatin’ word here is, BULGING. Get it? Nah? Now concentrate…

Flash back to last night;

So, I was sittin’ in that high stool by the wall, watchin’ these couple slow grind to Busy Signal and shit but then I noticed that when the song changed to Chris Breezy’s Look At Me Now, shawtie wanted to go sit her pretty ass down but the dude wasn’t havin’ none of it, kept pullin’ the babe close to himself, almost like he stole somethin’ and he was tryin’ his damn best to conceal it by usin’ her as a sheild.

As if the gods were bent on exposin’ a brotha’s secret, the music stopped, maybe, for about 20 seconds or somethin’ and they woulda looked stupid standin’ there, dancin’ to nothin’. They gotta get a move on to their table and as they moved, bam…all the strobe, laser and flashin’ lights in the place to be couldn’t hide the bulge in the nigga’s pant! At this point in time, I looked around and realized I wasn’t the only one who’s been payin’ close attention our little dirty dancers!

I almost choked myself laughin’…

I wasn’t really laughin’ at the nigga per se but at the some events from back in the day. I know most men have had the similar experiences before their games got grown.

While growin’ up, I’ve had to keep both my hands in my pocket on so many occasions tryna keep the growth in my pant in check instead of rockin’ them derrieres I was presented. Once, a long time ago, a naughty girl friend of ours, knowin’ full well that my friend had nicely hung his erect dick under his belt (with the head jus peekin’ out of the trouser), raised his shirt, exposin’ the contraband the lil’ nigga was tryin’ so hard to hide!

DIRTY DANCIN' GONE WRONG


Time: 19:20
Location: Sports Bar.
Day: Sunday the 18th of September

“Baby, gimme jus’ one more night
One more night
‘cause I can’t live wit’ out you”

Busy Signal’s One More Night (a remake of Phil Collins timeless classic) jus’ started bleedin’ out the speakers and I can’t help but give special attention to the spectacle unfoldin’ right in front of where am perched up on the high stool by the wall (sippin’ on water bottled water, of course). Though, this couple’s been dancin’ before now, I paid them no mind but as soon as this record came on, the chick went “whooooa!” and slowly started grindin’ her thick badonkadonk on the lil’ nigga she’s with…and nah, am not playa hatin’ on a brotha tryna have a good (grind) time but let’s jus’ say, am not impressed with the way the brotha’s grabbin’ dat ass without panache. But goddamn! Shawtie knows how to work dat behind, she’s puttin’ in overtime puttin’ her back into it and like MacDonald, am lovin’ this!

I whip out the laptop from my backpack and started typin’ this, alternatin’ my attention between typin’ this stuff, watchin’ the recaps of today’s premiership games on TV and monitorin’ the “breakin’ news” breakin’ right in front of me…am nosey like that but am classy about it!

Oh, I know some of you are sayin’ in your minds right now like, “what the fuck is news bout a couple grindin’ up on each other” or “go fuckin’ get a job, Dobs” but hold your horses and wait til’ I tell y’all what am seein’…I need a job, by the way!

And yep, you guessed it, am actually writin’ this shit in a sports bar or whatever you wanta call it. Got my laptop wit’ me jus’ in case your ass is doubtin’ me, had gone to the cafĂ© wit’ it earlier to post the blog bout DMX and his tenth child ( you should go read it, if you haven’t read it yet and if you have, read it again and again and again…lol). The Man. United – Chelsea game jus’ concluded and you already know the result, don’t y’all? “We” (as in, Man. U) fuckin’ blew the “Blues” away; three goals to one…champion stuff! *clears throat* I think Fernando Torres needs to spend a couple of hours layin’ on a psychiatrist’s couch, soccer fans all over the world know why.

19:30
The laptop grumbles, tellin’ me the juice in the battery is runnin’ low and it’d be out in 10 minutes. So, am gonna have to shut this shit down and continue when I get home. In the mean time, am gonna watch how this slow dance pans out.

*********************
Time: 08:40
Location: Crib
Day: Monday the 19th of September

*goes to the radio, flips the channel* Rick Ross and Lil’ Weezy are busy lying bout how they got chopper in the car…ridiculousity!

Ok, so I didn’t get to finish writin’ this piece last night but here we I go with the rest of the “bulgin’’ gist…did you catch that? The operatin’ word here is, BULGING. Get it? Nah? Now concentrate…

Flash back to last night;

So, I was sittin’ in that high stool by the wall, watchin’ these couple slow grind to Busy Signal and shit but then I noticed that when the song changed to Chris Breezy’s Look At Me Now, shawtie wanted to go sit her pretty ass down but the dude wasn’t havin’ none of it, kept pullin’ the babe close to himself, almost like he stole somethin’ and he was tryin’ his damn best to conceal it by usin’ her as a sheild.

As if the gods were bent on exposin’ a brotha’s secret, the music stopped, maybe, for about 20 seconds or somethin’ and they woulda looked stupid standin’ there, dancin’ to nothin’. They gotta get a move on to their table and as they moved, bam…all the strobe, laser and flashin’ lights in the place to be couldn’t hide the bulge in the nigga’s pant! At this point in time, I looked around and realized I wasn’t the only one who’s been payin’ close attention our little dirty dancers!

I almost choked myself laughin’…

I wasn’t really laughin’ at the nigga per se but at the some events from back in the day. I know most men have had the similar experiences before their games got grown.

While growin’ up, I’ve had to keep both my hands in my pocket on so many occasions tryna keep the growth in my pant in check instead of rockin’ them derrieres I was presented. Once, a long time ago, a naughty girl friend of ours, knowin’ full well that my friend had nicely hung his erect dick under his belt (with the head jus peekin’ out of the trouser), raised his shirt, exposin’ the contraband the lil’ nigga was tryin’ so hard to hide!

THE BOY ON THE TRACKS



This morning as I was walking to the train station my mind was running crazy as usual. I was thinking what if something happened to me? As a young female, walking my neighbourhood by myself, I tend to imagine up crazy scenarios. What if today was going to be different than every other day? And a different day it was!

As I approached the train station I heard a blood-curdling cry. Someone was screaming obscenities and I was just a little bit scared for my safety! As I came nearer, I saw a boy standing on the tracks. He couldn't have been any older than 15. He was looking down to the ground, frustrated, muttering under his breath. The platform I was standing on is above the tracks. And everyone knows they are not supposed to be on the tracks - there are special crossings - and to stand where he was, was out of the ordinary and dangerous.

I nervously asked him, "Are you okay?"

"Uhhh yeah..." he replied, "well, no actually not really..."

"The train is coming soon, you should get off the tracks", I said as panic took hold of me.

"I no longer want to live", he told me. He mentioned when they were upgrading the tracks in the last few months he had almost been hit by a train and now "they might as well finish me off".

The train was fast approaching.

"Please get off the tracks!" I pleaded! My legs were frozen and I didn't want to walk on down the platform until I knew he was safe! I didn't know what to say or do.

I could see the Train Driver and I was trying to indicate for him to stop and look him in the eye to warn him. As the train came to a halt he shouted out, "Don't stop! Finish me, come closer!" He had his arms up wanting to be hit by the train. The train stopped where it usually does to set down and pick up passengers but he still wasn't budging from the tracks. "Please come up," I said once again (talking about the platform), "come on". He looked hesitant but the fact that I was there and had shown I cared, he stepped to the side away from the train and stepped up onto the platform. I now decided it was okay to keep walking to my train, keeping a watchful eye on him. He walked over to the Train Driver's window and started shouting at the Driver about wanting to die and for him to finish him and run him over. I got on the train my heart pounding!

The train was only stopped for a short time with the boy talking to the Driver and eventually we took off. I wasn't sure if the Driver even heard the boy through the window and if he just thought he was crazy and kept going without doing anything. I knew I had to call the police to report it because he was serious about committing suicide and was so distressed in the way he was shouting. For a moment I battled with it whether it was the right thing to do now he was off the tracks, but I concluded it was. Since I was a kid it has been drilled into me to only call the Police in an absolute emergency. I have never dialled triple zero (000) - the emergency number in Australia, in my life; but today was to be a first. I wasn't sure if the Driver even knew he wanted to kill himself. He might have assumed I knew him and he was just being silly and I was talking and waiting for him to get on the train with me. But I didn't know the boy.

I pulled out my phone and dialled 000. My heart was pounding. I told them who I was, where I was and what happened. I got transferred to the Police and they asked me to describe the boy. In my panicked state I couldn't even tell them what he was wearing. The woman across from me saw the boy and she was able to tell me what he was wearing which I narrated to the Police. I asked them to send someone down to check on him because I had no idea if he would come back to the tracks and try again. The Police said, "yes, definitely." As I got off the phone with them, I talked to the woman across from me. She said that I did the right thing and asked me if I was okay. I was visibly shaken up and I couldn't concentrate the whole journey to the City. I asked the woman if I did the right thing getting on the train and if I should have waited with him? She said I had no idea of knowing whether he was violent or not and that I did the best thing by calling the Police and getting on the train. I said I was heaps worried about him and she said he would definitely come back once the current train was gone and try again - which was exactly my thought. She said she wished there was more people like me in the world that cared enough to make a difference. I could have done nothing, but I talked to the boy and called the Police to make sure he would be alright. She also asked me if I had someone to talk to when I got home - that I might need to get some support and that I should call the local Police Station when I got home to follow it up.

When the train got to the City, I made sure I talked to the Train Driver and told him I didn't know the boy but he had told me that he wanted to kill himself. I said he may want to report it to the relevant people. He said he already had. He said he thought the boy was just attention seeking and if he really wanted to kill himself he could have run across the tracks at a crucial point rather than stand where he did, in a place where the train slows down and stops to get passengers. But he said it was hard to know for sure and that the Police were out looking for him. I felt a little offended at the Driver's coldness; my heart swelling with worry for the boy over the situation. But at least I knew the Driver had also made a report and contacted the relevant people.

I prayed for the boy that he was safe and when I got home I called my local Station to find out if they found him. They let me know that they found him not far from the station and that he was safe with family now; working things out. They said they were able to find him with my information combined with the other information from the Driver. They thanked me for what I did - and for talking to him; saying I did a good thing. I'm so glad he is okay now. I could have done nothing and just kept walking to my train once I saw he was out of immediate danger - but what if he had tried again? What if by the Police coming to find him - they were able to counsel him and help him talk things through which led to him knowing someone cares so he will no longer give up on life? The Police said I definitely did the right thing and commended me.

It's so tragic someone so young can feel the way he did. But I feel like God had me there for a purpose. Maybe I helped save a life from being lost. We live in such a hurting world but I am thankful by my actions I can make a difference.

SENT IN FROM A FREN IN AUSTRALIA.

THE BOY ON THE TRACKS



This morning as I was walking to the train station my mind was running crazy as usual. I was thinking what if something happened to me? As a young female, walking my neighbourhood by myself, I tend to imagine up crazy scenarios. What if today was going to be different than every other day? And a different day it was!

As I approached the train station I heard a blood-curdling cry. Someone was screaming obscenities and I was just a little bit scared for my safety! As I came nearer, I saw a boy standing on the tracks. He couldn't have been any older than 15. He was looking down to the ground, frustrated, muttering under his breath. The platform I was standing on is above the tracks. And everyone knows they are not supposed to be on the tracks - there are special crossings - and to stand where he was, was out of the ordinary and dangerous.

I nervously asked him, "Are you okay?"

"Uhhh yeah..." he replied, "well, no actually not really..."

"The train is coming soon, you should get off the tracks", I said as panic took hold of me.

"I no longer want to live", he told me. He mentioned when they were upgrading the tracks in the last few months he had almost been hit by a train and now "they might as well finish me off".

The train was fast approaching.

"Please get off the tracks!" I pleaded! My legs were frozen and I didn't want to walk on down the platform until I knew he was safe! I didn't know what to say or do.

I could see the Train Driver and I was trying to indicate for him to stop and look him in the eye to warn him. As the train came to a halt he shouted out, "Don't stop! Finish me, come closer!" He had his arms up wanting to be hit by the train. The train stopped where it usually does to set down and pick up passengers but he still wasn't budging from the tracks. "Please come up," I said once again (talking about the platform), "come on". He looked hesitant but the fact that I was there and had shown I cared, he stepped to the side away from the train and stepped up onto the platform. I now decided it was okay to keep walking to my train, keeping a watchful eye on him. He walked over to the Train Driver's window and started shouting at the Driver about wanting to die and for him to finish him and run him over. I got on the train my heart pounding!

The train was only stopped for a short time with the boy talking to the Driver and eventually we took off. I wasn't sure if the Driver even heard the boy through the window and if he just thought he was crazy and kept going without doing anything. I knew I had to call the police to report it because he was serious about committing suicide and was so distressed in the way he was shouting. For a moment I battled with it whether it was the right thing to do now he was off the tracks, but I concluded it was. Since I was a kid it has been drilled into me to only call the Police in an absolute emergency. I have never dialled triple zero (000) - the emergency number in Australia, in my life; but today was to be a first. I wasn't sure if the Driver even knew he wanted to kill himself. He might have assumed I knew him and he was just being silly and I was talking and waiting for him to get on the train with me. But I didn't know the boy.

I pulled out my phone and dialled 000. My heart was pounding. I told them who I was, where I was and what happened. I got transferred to the Police and they asked me to describe the boy. In my panicked state I couldn't even tell them what he was wearing. The woman across from me saw the boy and she was able to tell me what he was wearing which I narrated to the Police. I asked them to send someone down to check on him because I had no idea if he would come back to the tracks and try again. The Police said, "yes, definitely." As I got off the phone with them, I talked to the woman across from me. She said that I did the right thing and asked me if I was okay. I was visibly shaken up and I couldn't concentrate the whole journey to the City. I asked the woman if I did the right thing getting on the train and if I should have waited with him? She said I had no idea of knowing whether he was violent or not and that I did the best thing by calling the Police and getting on the train. I said I was heaps worried about him and she said he would definitely come back once the current train was gone and try again - which was exactly my thought. She said she wished there was more people like me in the world that cared enough to make a difference. I could have done nothing, but I talked to the boy and called the Police to make sure he would be alright. She also asked me if I had someone to talk to when I got home - that I might need to get some support and that I should call the local Police Station when I got home to follow it up.

When the train got to the City, I made sure I talked to the Train Driver and told him I didn't know the boy but he had told me that he wanted to kill himself. I said he may want to report it to the relevant people. He said he already had. He said he thought the boy was just attention seeking and if he really wanted to kill himself he could have run across the tracks at a crucial point rather than stand where he did, in a place where the train slows down and stops to get passengers. But he said it was hard to know for sure and that the Police were out looking for him. I felt a little offended at the Driver's coldness; my heart swelling with worry for the boy over the situation. But at least I knew the Driver had also made a report and contacted the relevant people.

I prayed for the boy that he was safe and when I got home I called my local Station to find out if they found him. They let me know that they found him not far from the station and that he was safe with family now; working things out. They said they were able to find him with my information combined with the other information from the Driver. They thanked me for what I did - and for talking to him; saying I did a good thing. I'm so glad he is okay now. I could have done nothing and just kept walking to my train once I saw he was out of immediate danger - but what if he had tried again? What if by the Police coming to find him - they were able to counsel him and help him talk things through which led to him knowing someone cares so he will no longer give up on life? The Police said I definitely did the right thing and commended me.

It's so tragic someone so young can feel the way he did. But I feel like God had me there for a purpose. Maybe I helped save a life from being lost. We live in such a hurting world but I am thankful by my actions I can make a difference.

SENT IN FROM A FREN IN AUSTRALIA.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Dick Man X a.k.a DMX



The moment I saw the news item that inspired this piece, I flipped through my mental music catalogue and pulled out two hot joints from the crates (hot blasts from the mutherfuckin’ past), wipe the CDs clean, jus’ so there’s no dust on ‘em, slide ‘em into my mental CD player then I kicked back and got lost in the classic tunes of Earl Simmons a.k.a DMX a.k.a Dark Man X a.k.a Mr. Can’t-Keep-My-Ass-Outta-Trouble! I'm LOLin’ on the last bit right there…is that a bit harsh? Nah, I think not. Besides, he's richer and more famous than me, the only way I can make myself feel a lil’ famous is to poke a lil’ fun at a brotha’s ass.

Ay yo, am slippin’, I’m fallin’
I can’t get up
Ay yo am slippin’, I’m fallin’
I gots to get up
Get back on my feet so I can tear shit up

As I lay naked on the bed, listenin’ to SLIPPIN’ (that’s from the flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood album, by the way, one of the best sellin’ rap albums of all time), I read the headline from the news article again, “DMX HAS NAMED HIS 10th CHILD after the late singer Aaliyah.” What! Ten kids by the Dark Man? Amazin’ shit! Little wonder X lost the plot, his skinny dark ass is slippin ’and fallin’ and findin’ it so fuckin’ hard to get up! Ten children (4 of whom he had with ex-wife, Tashera)…wit who he had the other lil’ Xs, I got no idea but all I can say is, damn, that’s a prolific sower of wild oat right there!

With an arrest rap sheet that read longer than a text book, I wonder how he managed to squeeze in some’ time for Fuck O’clock. I mean, jus’ take a look at the offences this cat has been arrested and done time behind bars for, shits from animal cruelty to reckless driving, drug possession, identity falsification, sexual abuse, unlawful imprisonment, assault and weapon charges. Phew! *catches breath*

*SLIPPIN’ done playin, pressed play on “UP IN HERE”*

Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind
Up in here, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me lose my cool
In here, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me go all out
(From the “Gone in 60sec” soundtrack)

As I listened to that shit, am like, this nigga is a promise keeper. He said he was gonna go all out and he did... he produced 10 good ones from his big black balls (am jus’ guessin’ he got big nuts, that is. lol)! Mind you, there may be more somewhere. Dog Man X must be fightin’ a life-long battle with high surge of testosterone and losin’, big time.

As "Up in Here" ended on my mental player, another rapper came to mind, and the more I thought about it, the more I saw parallel between DMX and this rapper. *Cleared throat* the only rapper I know who can match DMX child for child, time served by bars for time served by bars is T.I… I can y’all noddin’ like, yeah, true that!

Anyways, I hope both of these cats will stay out of trouble and try their best to turn the plug off their baby-makin’ factories and give the rest of us who are yet to put one out a chance. As DMX was getting’ released last month for the umpteenth time, he’s manager said, "it’s time to let the Dog out of the kennel".

Well here’s what Dobs said, "Dog better stay out the kennel and keep that dick wrapped".

Dick Man X a.k.a DMX



The moment I saw the news item that inspired this piece, I flipped through my mental music catalogue and pulled out two hot joints from the crates (hot blasts from the mutherfuckin’ past), wipe the CDs clean, jus’ so there’s no dust on ‘em, slide ‘em into my mental CD player then I kicked back and got lost in the classic tunes of Earl Simmons a.k.a DMX a.k.a Dark Man X a.k.a Mr. Can’t-Keep-My-Ass-Outta-Trouble! I'm LOLin’ on the last bit right there…is that a bit harsh? Nah, I think not. Besides, he's richer and more famous than me, the only way I can make myself feel a lil’ famous is to poke a lil’ fun at a brotha’s ass.

Ay yo, am slippin’, I’m fallin’
I can’t get up
Ay yo am slippin’, I’m fallin’
I gots to get up
Get back on my feet so I can tear shit up

As I lay naked on the bed, listenin’ to SLIPPIN’ (that’s from the flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood album, by the way, one of the best sellin’ rap albums of all time), I read the headline from the news article again, “DMX HAS NAMED HIS 10th CHILD after the late singer Aaliyah.” What! Ten kids by the Dark Man? Amazin’ shit! Little wonder X lost the plot, his skinny dark ass is slippin ’and fallin’ and findin’ it so fuckin’ hard to get up! Ten children (4 of whom he had with ex-wife, Tashera)…wit who he had the other lil’ Xs, I got no idea but all I can say is, damn, that’s a prolific sower of wild oat right there!

With an arrest rap sheet that read longer than a text book, I wonder how he managed to squeeze in some’ time for Fuck O’clock. I mean, jus’ take a look at the offences this cat has been arrested and done time behind bars for, shits from animal cruelty to reckless driving, drug possession, identity falsification, sexual abuse, unlawful imprisonment, assault and weapon charges. Phew! *catches breath*

*SLIPPIN’ done playin, pressed play on “UP IN HERE”*

Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind
Up in here, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me lose my cool
In here, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me go all out
(From the “Gone in 60sec” soundtrack)

As I listened to that shit, am like, this nigga is a promise keeper. He said he was gonna go all out and he did... he produced 10 good ones from his big black balls (am jus’ guessin’ he got big nuts, that is. lol)! Mind you, there may be more somewhere. Dog Man X must be fightin’ a life-long battle with high surge of testosterone and losin’, big time.

As "Up in Here" ended on my mental player, another rapper came to mind, and the more I thought about it, the more I saw parallel between DMX and this rapper. *Cleared throat* the only rapper I know who can match DMX child for child, time served by bars for time served by bars is T.I… I can y’all noddin’ like, yeah, true that!

Anyways, I hope both of these cats will stay out of trouble and try their best to turn the plug off their baby-makin’ factories and give the rest of us who are yet to put one out a chance. As DMX was getting’ released last month for the umpteenth time, he’s manager said, "it’s time to let the Dog out of the kennel".

Well here’s what Dobs said, "Dog better stay out the kennel and keep that dick wrapped".

Thursday, September 15, 2011

A MUM. HER GIRLS. AND A WEDDIN'


Saturday 10th September 2011
Woke up at 9am, I said to Mia, "Time to get up baby". "Please Mum I don’t want to go to school". "Today is Aunty Aine's wedding," I told her; screams of excitement ensued. I had packed all our stuff the night before, so it was time for showers, cutting and painting nails and all the trimmings. My girls were so excited as they were to be flower girls that day!

So at 11am we left our house to go to for a nice breakfast together before heading to the hotel, half way there, SHOCK, HORROR, I forgot my phone, swiftly turned the car and sped home to collect my most valued possession, my phone. So off we went on our merry way once again for breakfast, but due to the time we ended up at the hot food counter in the local supermarket buying sausage rolls, and eventually eating our brekkie in the car, in the car park, CLASSY BIRDS!!!!!

12.15pm we finally arrived at the hotel, as I was gathering our stuff out of the car I heard “Aimee” the bride hanging out the hotel room window having a fag in the “no smoking hotel” another classy bird, but that’s why we love her so much!!!!!!

At the reception desk to check in, problem; room is not ready, even though I might add that I had called twice in the previous week to make sure we had an early check in as we had the flower girls with us and needed time to get them ready!!! 15 mins they told me, into the bar we went, complimentary drinks for the poor service, thank you very much, 30 mins later back out to the reception, I asked what is happening with our room, just another 15 mins she told me, now I’m calling managers and shouting!!!!! Luckily they gave us a room before I made too much of a stir, up to room 341, me, my girls and make-up artist Joanna.

1.30pm into the room we go, one bed! For 3 adults, uh oh I thought to myself Big Red (that’s ma Bessie by the way) is gonna lose the plot, along comes the hairdresser to do the girls soon followed by Red. “One fucking bed” were the first words outta her mouth (told ye). Red was on the phone pronto, “this is a disgrace” yatta, yatta, 10 mins later Bref and her sister Niamh arrived, also not impressed by the one bed situation, “knock, knock” it was a maid with a bed under her arm, YES under her arm, this is getting a bit amusing now but we wouldn’t tell the staff that, Noooooo we are appalled as far as they are concerned, so back on the phone more unfriendly banter and finally they agreed we would be moved to a bigger room, so now it’s all systems go in the room, children are getting their hair done, me, Bref and Niamh are getting our make-up done, so in the room we now have 2 kids, 3 adults, a make-up artist and a hairdresser, just to give you an idea of the pandemonium.

So it’s now approaching 4pm and the ceremony starts at 4.30pm, Naomi and Mia are ready just to put on their dresses, they look amazing! I’m all ready to go and I have butterflies I’m so excited to see Aine getting married, 4.10pm drop the girls to Aine’s room and head downstairs.

4.40pm I’m sitting at the edge of the seat close to the top of the room where it’s all going down, Gave Garry a wink but to be honest he is the most calm looking groom I ever saw, music starts in comes Bobby Joe (Garry’s son) followed by my Naomi, she looked so beautiful, I never felt so proud, and people gasped and awed at her I wanted to jump up and shout “Ya, that’s my baby” but I contained myself, next was my Mia, once again I was as proud as punch, and she was throwing white rose petals from a little bag, too, too cute I tell you!!!! Next the mini bridesmaid (not much to say cause I don’t know her) but she was lovely too, then finally a very pregnant maid of honour, Vivienne, Aine's first cousin and a friend, glowing she was with her baby bump.

4.50pm, the singer began to sing “she moved through the fair” a very traditional and beautiful Irish song, very Enyaesque, Aine stepped into the room, linked arm in arm with her father Kevin O’ Rourke, she was stunning, an absolute vision, her dress was a long white lace fishtail, sweetheart neckline and a black sash around her waist. I remember thinking, “she looks so happy”.

The ceremony was lovely I liked that the pastor threw a few jokes here and there cause it reflected the their personalities perfectly, their vows were very traditional ones, but I liked that to be honest, the pronouncing of husband and wife for the first time and their first kiss was so touching cause it was written all over their faces how happy they truly were. These two were undoubtedly born for each other. They both have had an abundance of heartache in their lives and have overcome many adversities, so having found each other and committed to spending the rest of their lives together is a blessing, and I was honoured to be invited to witness it and have my children play a part in that very special day and for that I am very grateful.

I contemplated telling you guys all about the night that ensued, but that’s all a bit unclear all I know is I drank, drank, drank and drank a vast amount of alcohol, there was dancing definitely dancing, danced with the father of the bride to my father’s favourite song “Red Rose Cafe”, there also was singing in the residents' bar, woke in the morning to find a mysterious pair of worn tights and heels that didn’t belong to any of us, the bar man ended up in our room also another great mystery as to where he came from, very unclear as to the night's events, anyway you have heard the most important bit.

That’s my story, don’t wear it out or I'll make you create me a new one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SENT IN BY A FREN FROM IRELAND.

A MUM. HER GIRLS. AND A WEDDIN'


Saturday 10th September 2011
Woke up at 9am, I said to Mia, "Time to get up baby". "Please Mum I don’t want to go to school". "Today is Aunty Aine's wedding," I told her; screams of excitement ensued. I had packed all our stuff the night before, so it was time for showers, cutting and painting nails and all the trimmings. My girls were so excited as they were to be flower girls that day!

So at 11am we left our house to go to for a nice breakfast together before heading to the hotel, half way there, SHOCK, HORROR, I forgot my phone, swiftly turned the car and sped home to collect my most valued possession, my phone. So off we went on our merry way once again for breakfast, but due to the time we ended up at the hot food counter in the local supermarket buying sausage rolls, and eventually eating our brekkie in the car, in the car park, CLASSY BIRDS!!!!!

12.15pm we finally arrived at the hotel, as I was gathering our stuff out of the car I heard “Aimee” the bride hanging out the hotel room window having a fag in the “no smoking hotel” another classy bird, but that’s why we love her so much!!!!!!

At the reception desk to check in, problem; room is not ready, even though I might add that I had called twice in the previous week to make sure we had an early check in as we had the flower girls with us and needed time to get them ready!!! 15 mins they told me, into the bar we went, complimentary drinks for the poor service, thank you very much, 30 mins later back out to the reception, I asked what is happening with our room, just another 15 mins she told me, now I’m calling managers and shouting!!!!! Luckily they gave us a room before I made too much of a stir, up to room 341, me, my girls and make-up artist Joanna.

1.30pm into the room we go, one bed! For 3 adults, uh oh I thought to myself Big Red (that’s ma Bessie by the way) is gonna lose the plot, along comes the hairdresser to do the girls soon followed by Red. “One fucking bed” were the first words outta her mouth (told ye). Red was on the phone pronto, “this is a disgrace” yatta, yatta, 10 mins later Bref and her sister Niamh arrived, also not impressed by the one bed situation, “knock, knock” it was a maid with a bed under her arm, YES under her arm, this is getting a bit amusing now but we wouldn’t tell the staff that, Noooooo we are appalled as far as they are concerned, so back on the phone more unfriendly banter and finally they agreed we would be moved to a bigger room, so now it’s all systems go in the room, children are getting their hair done, me, Bref and Niamh are getting our make-up done, so in the room we now have 2 kids, 3 adults, a make-up artist and a hairdresser, just to give you an idea of the pandemonium.

So it’s now approaching 4pm and the ceremony starts at 4.30pm, Naomi and Mia are ready just to put on their dresses, they look amazing! I’m all ready to go and I have butterflies I’m so excited to see Aine getting married, 4.10pm drop the girls to Aine’s room and head downstairs.

4.40pm I’m sitting at the edge of the seat close to the top of the room where it’s all going down, Gave Garry a wink but to be honest he is the most calm looking groom I ever saw, music starts in comes Bobby Joe (Garry’s son) followed by my Naomi, she looked so beautiful, I never felt so proud, and people gasped and awed at her I wanted to jump up and shout “Ya, that’s my baby” but I contained myself, next was my Mia, once again I was as proud as punch, and she was throwing white rose petals from a little bag, too, too cute I tell you!!!! Next the mini bridesmaid (not much to say cause I don’t know her) but she was lovely too, then finally a very pregnant maid of honour, Vivienne, Aine's first cousin and a friend, glowing she was with her baby bump.

4.50pm, the singer began to sing “she moved through the fair” a very traditional and beautiful Irish song, very Enyaesque, Aine stepped into the room, linked arm in arm with her father Kevin O’ Rourke, she was stunning, an absolute vision, her dress was a long white lace fishtail, sweetheart neckline and a black sash around her waist. I remember thinking, “she looks so happy”.

The ceremony was lovely I liked that the pastor threw a few jokes here and there cause it reflected the their personalities perfectly, their vows were very traditional ones, but I liked that to be honest, the pronouncing of husband and wife for the first time and their first kiss was so touching cause it was written all over their faces how happy they truly were. These two were undoubtedly born for each other. They both have had an abundance of heartache in their lives and have overcome many adversities, so having found each other and committed to spending the rest of their lives together is a blessing, and I was honoured to be invited to witness it and have my children play a part in that very special day and for that I am very grateful.

I contemplated telling you guys all about the night that ensued, but that’s all a bit unclear all I know is I drank, drank, drank and drank a vast amount of alcohol, there was dancing definitely dancing, danced with the father of the bride to my father’s favourite song “Red Rose Cafe”, there also was singing in the residents' bar, woke in the morning to find a mysterious pair of worn tights and heels that didn’t belong to any of us, the bar man ended up in our room also another great mystery as to where he came from, very unclear as to the night's events, anyway you have heard the most important bit.

That’s my story, don’t wear it out or I'll make you create me a new one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SENT IN BY A FREN FROM IRELAND.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

PATERNITY SUIT?



I threw up the deuce to the cute girl down the aisle without meanin' to. You can blame that involuntary hand gesture on the infectious tune bangin' in my eardrum via my celly's headphones; Chris Breezy, Kevin McCall and Tyga's Deuces won't stop tellin' me to flip both the index and middle finger. And would you believe? She smiled and waved back at me! The other “girl” she was with didn't even notice our little exchange, she was too busy tryna pick some grocery from the shelf.

I turned and walked to my favorite part of the stores…the bread counter! I love bread. Back when we were in the university tryna hustle for that degree, my boy Ameh a.k.a Amazin' used to call me the Ginger Bread Man, a testament to the undyin' love affair between me and that big ass loaf of bread.

I got my oven fresh bread and headed to counter to lay the cash down and bam! There was she was, right in front of me! That same cute girl from earlier... "standin'" right there, smilin' and reachin' out her cute hand to me like she knew me. Now what kinda man would I be if I let this new sweet familiarity go without showin' some love in return? Nah am not that kinda man. So, I reached out and touched her hand. Her excited movement made the "girl" she was with turned to looked at me.

"Hi", I said, removing my headphones while still holdin' on to the cute girl's hand.

"Hi", she said. I didn't really hear what she said but I read her lips. The noise level was a bit high, plus her voice was real low and soft. She smiled. Her smile, a carbon copy of the one the cute girl got.

"You guys look so much alike", I said, in my deepest voice.

She nodded and said, "Thanks".

She paid and as they turned to leave, the cute girl started cryin'. Her pretty eyes had cute lil' tears in 'em. I paid for my bread and caught up with them jus' as they reached their car then somethin' so freakin' surprisin' happened... the cute girl, the little two year old I jus' met called me Daddy!

What! My mouth weighed a ton, I tried but I jus' couldn't pull my thick lips together. The mother had a devious lil' smile on her face as she tried to load her loot from the store in the car while the baby cried for me…the new daddy. I scooped the lil' angel up in my arms and tried my best to soosh her up by rockin' her back and forth. After the mother got done, I pretended like my phone rang…

"Hello", I said to the dead phone while I stylishly made a quick get away from my new found daughter.

Imagine what would've happened if the husband or the father of the kid was there. Did somebody say paternity test?

PATERNITY SUIT?



I threw up the deuce to the cute girl down the aisle without meanin' to. You can blame that involuntary hand gesture on the infectious tune bangin' in my eardrum via my celly's headphones; Chris Breezy, Kevin McCall and Tyga's Deuces won't stop tellin' me to flip both the index and middle finger. And would you believe? She smiled and waved back at me! The other “girl” she was with didn't even notice our little exchange, she was too busy tryna pick some grocery from the shelf.

I turned and walked to my favorite part of the stores…the bread counter! I love bread. Back when we were in the university tryna hustle for that degree, my boy Ameh a.k.a Amazin' used to call me the Ginger Bread Man, a testament to the undyin' love affair between me and that big ass loaf of bread.

I got my oven fresh bread and headed to counter to lay the cash down and bam! There was she was, right in front of me! That same cute girl from earlier... "standin'" right there, smilin' and reachin' out her cute hand to me like she knew me. Now what kinda man would I be if I let this new sweet familiarity go without showin' some love in return? Nah am not that kinda man. So, I reached out and touched her hand. Her excited movement made the "girl" she was with turned to looked at me.

"Hi", I said, removing my headphones while still holdin' on to the cute girl's hand.

"Hi", she said. I didn't really hear what she said but I read her lips. The noise level was a bit high, plus her voice was real low and soft. She smiled. Her smile, a carbon copy of the one the cute girl got.

"You guys look so much alike", I said, in my deepest voice.

She nodded and said, "Thanks".

She paid and as they turned to leave, the cute girl started cryin'. Her pretty eyes had cute lil' tears in 'em. I paid for my bread and caught up with them jus' as they reached their car then somethin' so freakin' surprisin' happened... the cute girl, the little two year old I jus' met called me Daddy!

What! My mouth weighed a ton, I tried but I jus' couldn't pull my thick lips together. The mother had a devious lil' smile on her face as she tried to load her loot from the store in the car while the baby cried for me…the new daddy. I scooped the lil' angel up in my arms and tried my best to soosh her up by rockin' her back and forth. After the mother got done, I pretended like my phone rang…

"Hello", I said to the dead phone while I stylishly made a quick get away from my new found daughter.

Imagine what would've happened if the husband or the father of the kid was there. Did somebody say paternity test?

Monday, September 12, 2011

THE CONDOM I DIDN'T USE

Saturday
Just before 11:00hrs
My mood was a deeper shade of blue, the weather was gettin' hot and I was restless. I needed some distractions, alil' some' to take my mind off things. So, there I was layin' on my stomach, surfin' through stations on the radio tryna while away the time before one of my fav programs on radio comes on BBC; Top of the Pops (am a radio addict, by the way). If I'm told to choose between pussy and the radio... I'll choose both! Got ya! Lmao…I love lettin' my ears be held hostage by the radio.

Two Hours Later
Just before jumpin' in the shower, I took one of the best dumps I’ve taken in a long while and when I got done, I felt like I had cum... felt like an orgasm! Ok, maybe not quite but it felt so fuckin' good I coulda sworn I came. I don't know, you ever taken one of those mood-alterin' dump or piss before? If you've not, then you've not known one of life's sweetest free gifts. Trust me on that one.

Suddenly, I was happy. My Saturday afternoon was lookin' like some' outta Louis Armstrong's Wonderful World... ooooh yea *in my best Satchmo voice*. I even whistled a song I love to hate, LMFAO’s Party Rock while in the shower getting' my ass washed.

21:00hrs
I was feelin' hella good; the evening was look like it'd end in a good night. Man. United had jus' given Bolton a good ass whoopin', though not as monumental as the drubbin' the Gunners got 'bout a forth night ago but it was a good signal to all the other pretenders in the premiership that we (we, as in Man. United) ain't playin'! The other big boys in the league are shakin' in their boots right about now.

Samson, I meant Wayne Rooney can't stop bangin' in the goals. That boy's on fire. I have a conspiracy theory bout Rooney's new found form and his new head of full hair got some' to do with it... am jus' sayin'.

So am walkin' home, the moon beamin' happily in the sky jus' like my smile. The Ho's were out at their usual spots, callin' every Dobs, DICK and Harry baby or darlin'. I've often wondered why these girls chose these well to do neighborhood to sell that punany. Tree-lined streets, well paved roads, all quiet and shit, hands down, this is one of the best parts of this city... about 10 meters away from the pussy-mongers, I slipped and fell. Thank God my best friend was ok... oh, sorry, that was my phone in case you're wonderin' how a mysterious friend I didn’t mention suddenly appeared in this lil' true life tale. Satisfied we're both ok except for my stained pant, I checked for what had caused my "downfall" and you wouldn't have been able to guess in a million years what it was if I told you to take a stab at it... A USED CONDOM with sperm still oozing out of the damn thang!

Imagine how some other people's fuckin' bi'ness/ pleasure fuckin' nearly ruined such a good night. I smiled to myself, signed in to me Facebook account and was about to update when…

It doesnt even matter...

THE CONDOM I DIDN'T USE

Saturday
Just before 11:00hrs
My mood was a deeper shade of blue, the weather was gettin' hot and I was restless. I needed some distractions, alil' some' to take my mind off things. So, there I was layin' on my stomach, surfin' through stations on the radio tryna while away the time before one of my fav programs on radio comes on BBC; Top of the Pops (am a radio addict, by the way). If I'm told to choose between pussy and the radio... I'll choose both! Got ya! Lmao…I love lettin' my ears be held hostage by the radio.

Two Hours Later
Just before jumpin' in the shower, I took one of the best dumps I’ve taken in a long while and when I got done, I felt like I had cum... felt like an orgasm! Ok, maybe not quite but it felt so fuckin' good I coulda sworn I came. I don't know, you ever taken one of those mood-alterin' dump or piss before? If you've not, then you've not known one of life's sweetest free gifts. Trust me on that one.

Suddenly, I was happy. My Saturday afternoon was lookin' like some' outta Louis Armstrong's Wonderful World... ooooh yea *in my best Satchmo voice*. I even whistled a song I love to hate, LMFAO’s Party Rock while in the shower getting' my ass washed.

21:00hrs
I was feelin' hella good; the evening was look like it'd end in a good night. Man. United had jus' given Bolton a good ass whoopin', though not as monumental as the drubbin' the Gunners got 'bout a forth night ago but it was a good signal to all the other pretenders in the premiership that we (we, as in Man. United) ain't playin'! The other big boys in the league are shakin' in their boots right about now.

Samson, I meant Wayne Rooney can't stop bangin' in the goals. That boy's on fire. I have a conspiracy theory bout Rooney's new found form and his new head of full hair got some' to do with it... am jus' sayin'.

So am walkin' home, the moon beamin' happily in the sky jus' like my smile. The Ho's were out at their usual spots, callin' every Dobs, DICK and Harry baby or darlin'. I've often wondered why these girls chose these well to do neighborhood to sell that punany. Tree-lined streets, well paved roads, all quiet and shit, hands down, this is one of the best parts of this city... about 10 meters away from the pussy-mongers, I slipped and fell. Thank God my best friend was ok... oh, sorry, that was my phone in case you're wonderin' how a mysterious friend I didn’t mention suddenly appeared in this lil' true life tale. Satisfied we're both ok except for my stained pant, I checked for what had caused my "downfall" and you wouldn't have been able to guess in a million years what it was if I told you to take a stab at it... A USED CONDOM with sperm still oozing out of the damn thang!

Imagine how some other people's fuckin' bi'ness/ pleasure fuckin' nearly ruined such a good night. I smiled to myself, signed in to me Facebook account and was about to update when…

It doesnt even matter...

Sunday, September 11, 2011

WEEKEND DOWN UNDER



On Friday I caught the train down to the city to have a “study night” with my friend C. I say “study” because I am not sure how much we actually ended up doing! Perhaps that’s just the code name I used so I could go down and spend time with my new friend. We met just over a month ago on our first day of class. We were standing around waiting for the lecturer to arrive and just started talking. Since that day we’ve hit it off as best friends and it feels like we’ve known each other forever. C’s fiancĂ© calls us twins even though we’re the complete opposite physically – me the “white as white” Aussie and C the “dark but lovely” African Australian – originating from Sierra Leone. Part of the reason we get on so well is I’ve spent time in Africa before and just warm to, love and accept people of all cultures. And Friday night turned out to be a cultural experience for real! I actually ended up leaving Sunday morning!

C lives with her fiancĂ© CP, sister M and her mother affectionately known as “Big Mama”. When I first met the family I was told no one even knows her real name they just call her Big Mama. Like the movie she’s big, she’s round but she’s loving and affectionate and you immediately feel at ease in her presence. The first time I met her she had just come home from an outing and with a big smile she said, “Welcome to my home”. She hugged me and said, “You! I like! You are big like me! Not like my daughter,” glancing at C who has previously done modelling and has the body to match. Everyone immediately laughed. CP of Italian origin piped in “Mama you can’t say that!” But everyone was laughing, including me, I said it was fine! CP explained it’s just the African sense of humour. But it’s true, I am not the smallest of smallest girls. To my next surprise Mama removed a wig to reveal her curly grey Afro-hair and said, “Now you know my secret!” I had thought it was her real hair so I was quite in shock but laughing too! Mama couldn’t refrain her laughter either.

Me and C did end up getting a bit of study done but the majority of the time was spent looking at each other’s photos and talking as girls do. I planned on staying the night because it was too far and late to get home. I asked, “so where am I sleeping tonight?” Last time I had slept in M’s bed who was supposed to be out at a friend’s. And when she came home and discovered I was going to be sleeping in her bed she did not look too happy, although she had been upset that day so I was told not to let it bother me. Later C and I had our combined birthday party as we discovered our birthdays were only 5 days apart and decided to celebrate together. While we were lining up to get into the restaurant I apologised to M for sleeping in her bed, she said it was alright. Mama was shaking her head that I even apologised saying next time I would sleep in her bed! So C and her Mum looked at me. “What did we say last time?” C’s Mum asked. “Your bed,” I replied. C asked me if that was still okay and I said – of course; I didn’t mind. I loved Big Mama and I already felt like family by now. Mama said, “Don’t worry; I’m now an old woman to be making love to you so you don’t need to worry”. Oh my goodness I laughed! In Australia it’s not common to share a bed with family but in Africa it’s the norm. It personally didn’t bother me and I knew it would be fine and as CP explained to me, “you know how it is in Africa”.

That night I was trying to get to sleep; and you know how it is when you’re in a new place and sleeping in a new bed. Mama left the light on for me and I switched it off as I came in. As I got into my side of the bed I discovered the electric blanket was on and it was so hot I was sweating! Feeling a bit shy I didn’t want to say anything but endeavoured I was going to endure it. I pretty much only had a tiny bit of blanket on and stuck all my arms and legs out to avoid the heat! As I lay there trying to sleep – Mama was snoring away loudly! Haha! It didn’t bother me that much, but then downstairs I heard someone knocking on the door and calling out (someone knocking on the neighbour’s house). The knocking was not getting any quieter either! I was doomed not to get any sleep. Mum got up to go to the bathroom at one stage and I decided this was my chance to turn off the electric blanket! I found the switch and turned it off. I eventually started feeling exhausted and drifted in and out of sleep. The funny thing is I woke up feeling cold even though I went to bed feeling hot!

Saturday morning we all came down for breakfast. Mama asked me, “Did I snore?” I blushed a little and I said, “Nah Mum, you were alright.” The sisters looked at me and said they knew their Mum snored. They kept pressing me til I eventually said, “well maybe you were breathing a little loudly”. The whole family were laughing and carrying on. C asked me to give her five, telling her Mum, “see I told you so! Thank you HH, maybe now she will believe me.” Mama was funny asking me how she sounded and said “the funny thing is you wouldn’t know that you snore!” Then she started making different sounds asking me if that’s what her snore sounded like! Hahaha!

Mama started preparing a Sierra Leone dish with okra, fish and spices. She was so excited about me trying it once it was done. C asked me what time I was staying and asked if I was staying til Sunday? I was supposed to go home that Saturday but they wanted me to stay another day. I said, “I would love to as long as I am not bothering any one and you don’t mind”. Mama said, “No, of course not I can’t wait for you to try my okra – you’re going to love it.” In fact it was a delicious meal but very spicy! My white tastebuds were crying for some milk to cool the burn!

Mama was going out to a party with friends and since I shared a bed with Mama, C joked, “I don’t know Mum – is HH going to let you go out?” We were joking I was now her lover/ partner so I had to give permission. I asked Mama what time she would be home cos she had to be there to tuck me in! I said, “Make sure you behave yourself and don’t stay out too late!”

While Mama was out – C, M and I belted out the African music starting with a Sierra Leonean classic “Che Che” by Daddy Saj. C was showing me all the moves which require a lot of booty shaking and getting lower and lower! The girls had me dancing with them, I was feeling kinda embarrassed but I tried. I couldn’t quite shake it like them and as I got lower my thighs were giving way not wanting to hold me up and I kept falling. The girls were laughing as they danced wildly and kept encouraging me to do more. I couldn’t quite keep up, but I tried! The girls changed into short things but I just threw off my jacket. I was feeling exhausted by the end of that but I was told this is a regular occurrence in the household with all three girls dancing (Mum and daughters). But boy we were hot by the end of that!



Later Mama got home although we got to bed quite late. Sunday morning when the whole family was downstairs again, Mama loudly proclaimed, “I’ve got news for everyone!” CP jumped in, “Who’s pregnant?” Mama ignored him and said, “My news is... last night we very tired and in a moment of tiredness... HH snored!” The whole room burst out into laughter. Mama continued “she was so tired... she even put her arms around me in the night...” I was also laughing but I said, “Mama you are making that up!”

This morning I said goodbye to my adopted Sierra Leonean family but my time spent with them is not something I will easily forget. I will always cherish the memories and I can’t wait til next time!

THIS WAS WRITTEN BY A FREN OF THIS BLOG.