LEMON GREEN BUS

Monday

June 24

23:08

 

If I hadn’t “run” into a certain “sad” reminder on wheels, I pro’ly wouldn’t be writin’ this blog entry. Yeah, sad reminder but then again, it depends on where you’re standin’, you know, the angle from where you’re lookin’ at it.

 

16:16

 

I had jus’ walked of a fast-food joint wit’ a grateful belly and a tongue that won’t stop lickin’ a pair of contented lips. Lost in the festivity goin’ in my tummy, I’d put a foot on the road after a quick left glance for on comin’ vehicles. Two steps in, a lemon green bus out of nowhere (it seemed so) had scamperin’ me back to the curb (concernin’ the color, don’t take my word for it; sometimes my sense of color is a little bi-polar-ish).

 

I collected my scattered breaths jus’ in time to read what was written on the vehicle. It was some company’s bus and the name was boldly splashed on all its sides (the sides I could see). Name so bold even a visually impaired person could see. it felt like some kind of in-your-face proclamation.

 Jus’ before the bus sped out of sight; those ubiquitous inscriptions seemed to scream above the din of the rapidly building homebound traffic, “You’ll need us someday.”  I looked around to see if anybody else heard what I jus’ heard. Of course nobody did. I was vergin’ on crazy.

 It wasn’t until I’d safely crossed the road that it hit me, I’d seen this particular lemon green bus before…

A Week Earlier

Tuesday

June 18

11:45

 It was almost mid day and sky wore patches of gray here and there. The weather was between 17-20 degrees jus’ like the weatherman predicted the night before.

 We’d all jus’ arrived at the expansive neighborhood where a different kinda of festivity was about to take place. I stood in the back, a couple of feet from the folks who were seated under the small tent. I was dressed in black (all black everythin’ like a certain Jay Z would say). I had my black scarf over my face Arabian-style and that drew a few inquisitive glances. It was a cold cold dry day, what was a brotha supposed to do, huh?

 11:52

 Some woman with her baby strapped to her chest (chest to chest) played wit’ the tiny tot. I got a good view of the baby’s face from where I was and the lil’ man seemed like he wanted to holla at me and y’all know what they say “No matter how badass you are, when a baby hands you a toy telephone, you better answer it”. With those very wise words in mind, I started makin’ funny faces and hand gestures at the kid and that kinda got a laugh and a lot of drools out of him. The mother turned her head to see what was so amusin’, I looked away.

 The next few minutes I occupied myself wit’ lookin’ around and readin’ some of the names of the “landlords” in that neighborhood. Names like Duncan, Fredrick, Chanda and so on were etched on granite “doors”.

 12:17

 I was back to amusin’ the kid from my arm’s length position in the back of the gatherin’ and the baby was lovin’ every minute and I was lovin’ it too until the first shovel full of dirt landed on the casket with a soft thud and bevy of women plunged into a dirge. Quickly, I put on a somber look like the rest of folks at the burial ground and looked on as the remains of the newly departed got covered in soil.

 12:30

 As we headed to where the cars were packed, I noticed that hearse that brought the corpse was actually a bus (not the conventional hearse Hollywood made me believe was the be-all) but then again, who says a hearse has to be a limo or a station wagon?

 Was the hearse the same vehicle that almost knocked me down a week later? Yep, you already guessed it. You smart people!

 Outro

 My close shave wit’ the hearse got me thinkin’ about death and dying. And nah, am not thinkin’ about this in the am-scared-of-dying sort of way. I’m lookin’ at from the goin’-away-and-no-misses-you kinda angle. I’m talkin’ about folks not noticin’ that you’re not around and that my friends, is the real tragedy.

 

 

 

LOLLIPOP

Once Upon A

Time Day: forgotten

Time: unknown

 

Ohh. Hmm.

From my slouched position on the sofa, I moaned wordless melodies. Ooh ahh. Every hair constituting my stubbornly shaggy afro were standin’ straight and screamin’ hallelujah. My skin sprouted goose bumps that could be seen from the international space station. All kinds of chemical reaction were goin’ inside me and this was even more evident in thetwitches in my cojones.

Ooh ahh.

I inhaled and closed my eyes momentarily. I could taste lust on my mouth. I opened my eyes jus’ in time to see a precious pair of honey brown full lips envelope the pleasure giver she held in her hand. If lickin’ was a study, this woman deserves a master’s degree in the art.

Ooh ahh.

I’d always fancied myself as a man with an above average self-control. I’d thought my strength of mind was gettin’ solid as steel but the moment her bubble gum tongue touched the “head,” all self control melted away like a molten! It was like somebody force opened my every hair follicle in my body and poured hot passion in ‘em, I felt it in the Main Vein. Lawd, self control fuckin’ walked on me like a bitch would on a faithful partner! It’s one of those oh-my-god jaws-on-the-floor moments.

Monday

June 10

23:28

Uh huh Young Dobsy Baby

You’re so sweet make me wanna lick the wrapper

So I let her lick the wrapper

She lick me like a lollipop

 

I can’t remember the last time I heard Lil Wayne’s lollipop on the radio or anywhere else for that matter but today I have a need to slide it on, kick back on the couch and actually listen to what Tunechi was really sayin’ on that track. Do I really need to listen? Nah, I already know the song wasn’t about lollipop,p same way 50cent’s candy shop wasn’t about candies

Saturday ?

June ?7

0??1:57

 

The incredible Mr. Darling

 

I came across somethin’ that got me thinkin’ about tits and milk and everythin’ mammary. Okay you got me there; thoughts of boobs are never far from my mind. Go ahead and cast me into eternal life of boob-tendin’.

Anyways, I read that Mr. Darling did an off the record survey of his friend’s kids’ behavior. He noticed that breast milk calmed the little rascals down. From that moment on he knew he had to capture that flavor. With the help of some breastfeeding mothers, who “kept sharing their breast milk with our flavor specialists until we were able to candify it”

Outro

 

Shawty wanna thug

Bottles in the club

Shawty wanna hump

You know I like to touch your lovely lady lumps

 

Okay, let’s bring all these talks about lollipops, lickin’ and tits home and put all the hoo-ah to rest. While we’re at it, somebody run go tell Lil Wayne that the prophecy has been fulfilled.

We (all tits lovin’ men worldwide) can now have shawty and her lovely lady lump to ourselves without havin’ to stoop so low to the level of draggin’ boobs wit lil’ babies. The breast milk-flavored lollipops are here, ladies and gentlemen! But wait, these lil breast milk on stick will cost ya $2.5 a pop…that’s $10 for a pack of four, a dozen for $24 and a case of 36 for $58 but if you want free shipping, use the code MAMMALS. Ah ha!

Working mothers or those of y’all afraid your precious lil’ boobs might sag from sucking and shit, throw that tiny tot a breast milk-flavored lollipop. Now go ahead give a thank you wiggle of your tits to Lollyphile founder Jason Darling for comin’ up wit this life-changing invention.

Tuesday

June 11

01:52

 

Huh, we should circle back to the intro and all that blowjobin’? Nah, I was jus’ spinnin’ ostentatious yarns and sellin’ your asses nighttime daydreams, or am i?

EGO-PHALLIC MASSAGE

Today
Monday
3 June
12:26

I’m goin’ to kick this piece off wit’ a half-assed “all persons fictitious disclaimer,” you know, jus’ like they do it in films.

Here it goes…“All characters appearin’ in this blog entry are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, livin’ or dead is purely a product of your hyperactive mind.”

Did you take note of the part that says “your hyperactive mind?” you did? That’s good.

But why “an all person disclaimer” though?

Well, am goin’ to tell a little story about somethin’ am sure all men have experienced (and still experiencin’) though only a few men will actually own up. Did I say “all men?” hmm, ok scratch that and replace it “most men.”

So you see, some folks might start gettin’ ideas like, Dobs is a world famous blogger and might wanna hit my ass wit’ a case in the court of law for tellin’ the world what they already know. And may be, jus’ may be hopin’ they’ll knock me for a cool million dollars settlement while they’re at it.

Ah! Imaginin’ myself a famous and sueable blogger is good for my ego.

Talkin’ about Ego, somehow Kanye West’s gem on Beyonce’s Ego (remix) always comes to mind

…coulda been anywhere in the world but you’re here with me
That’s good for my ego, ha ha, me and my ego
And he go everywhere we go
My ego is my imaginary friend
He was wit me when I was only imagining…

Yesterday
Sunday
2 June
18:10

I stood there at Ster Kinekor Cinema contemplatin’ whether to go in and watch Furious 6 in 2D or go to the other cinema and see it in 3D.

I know you’re thinkin’, “Did he bump his head or somethin’ ‘cause that film was never made in 3D” what was I thinkin’!

I know what I was thinking; it was the little loot in my back pocket that got me thinkin’ crazy. See, I’d jus successfully harassed and gotten some money from some dude who owed me and that kinda lifted my spirit. So there I was, immersed in my own world, checkin’ out movie posters on the wall when I heard, “am glad I fucked her when I had the chance”

Now that got my attention. My neck turned swiftly of its own accord and two guys in their mid twenties (I assume) fell into focus, jus’ a breath away from me. The one who was glad he fucked her when he had the chance had the look of somebody who’s jus’ got his ego freshly bruised.

I didn’t have to listen to the rest of the convo between those two; it’s somethin’ I’ve heard before, in another place and time…

2008
August
17:52

I was kickin’ it wit’ a friend of mine in front of his crib and he’d jus’ told me how his girl (or as at that moment, ex girlfriend) had left his ass for some guy who was playin’ professional football (soccer) in Belgium. Shawtie found herself a gold pit and she went headfirst without as much as a backward glance at my friend

My boy was hurtin’ but he put a Steven Seagal face on it. I saw through that mask though. Matter of fact, the mask slipped when he said, “Imagine how I would’ve felt I didn’t test that pussy.” I wanted to say it doesn’t make any difference but I ain’t never been a party pooper, nah I ain’t the one who wouldn’t let a friend “enjoy” his moment of pain.

Love/lust lost or kicked out the door is always a painful thing no matter who you are. And when shit like that happens, there’s the tendency for a brotha to try and rationalize things, especially when he’s around his boys, by massagin’ his own ego wit’ stuffs like, “it woulda been painful if I didn’t hit that pussy,” “it was all about the pussy, anyways” and blah blah.

A broken (hearted) man is never a pretty sight.

Most male have gone through or are still goin’ through that stage of ego-phallic massaging (ego-phallic massage…hmm, my father gotta be proud of me for inventin’ this shit). Ladies, ask around and let me know what you find.

By the way, it might interest y’all to know that there was no happily ever-after for the girl. Mr. Ballplayer kicked girlfriend to the curb in record time. Now that’s the stuff of a bitter winter in Siberia, isn’t it?
Outro

The truth of the matter is, no matter how many times one fucked a pussy, or had sex with a woman or as the bible would put it, “know a woman,” it wouldn’t diminish the pain one feels if that woman leaves ones’ ass (for another man) if one genuinely feel somethin’ for that woman.

Huh, what if she leaves you for another woman?

Umm, I wouldn’t know how that feels. I’ve not been to the bridge yet.

FALL FROM GRACE

Sunday

March 24

12:21

I was chattin’ with a friend of mine and for some reason as old as the birth of Herbert Macaulay he kept pressin’ me for a hook up with a chick, “any sweet chick, he says”. At first I thought he was jus’ “monkeyin around’” but nah, the brotha persisted like a tick on a dog’s ball!

C’mon! Do I look like a pimp, or somethin’?

I do not have a dial-a-pimp signpost on my forehead, matter of fact, I’ve never even met a pimp before in my life. Ok, maybe I have but still, “pimpry” is not some communicable disease that people can catch by jus’ knowin’ or breathin’ the same air with a pimp, or is it?

I told my friend I was the wrong man for the job and I would be of no use to him in his great pussy search. He expressed his disappointment by tellin’ me “you lost your mojo, men.”  Told me I was no longer the man…

 

Guri and Lala

Guri and Lala were two of the meanest guys from my teenage years; they were the “man” back then and they weren’t even pretty boys! Huh uh, nobody says you gotta be a pretty boy to be the man, right?

Guri and Lala were the “man” and those who grew up with ‘em knew it. They were like Siamese twins, you wouldn’t see one without the other and if one committed a misdemeanor (and they committed a lot of those and then some), you can be sure that the other one was somewhere in the background.

I’m not sure where those two are right now or if they’re still the man…

 

Monday

March 25

09:41

 

PSY

Gangnam Style plays on the radio as I write this. The hangover from that song has finally worn off on a YouTube-crazy world. I never had it on any of my personal listening devices (it’d be a major disrespect to my phones to,)I was never a fan of it or the dance it spurn, am too grown for that shit. The good old “Lean Back” has always been good enough for me, thank you.

Hate it or love it, PSY was the man last year (2012). On the strength of that one song, the South Korean superstar balled hard with a lot of powerful people in the west, a nigga can’t ask for more, can he?

Whatever happens to his follow-up single to be released in April, the fact still gon’ remain that PSY was the man last year…

Mr. YOON

Yoon is another South Korean who was the man, though his reign as the man was short-lived but he was the man nonetheless and I’ll always remember him every time Gangnam Style comes on.

Who is Yoon again?

Well, let’s jus say he’s an half baked white collar criminal who plotted a great escape but instead of headin’ into the sunset (like they do in the movies), he messed it all up by tryin’ to live the high life of the Gangnamanian.

Yoon (33) was the head of account in the company he used to work for. He pilfered $4.3million of company's fund and tucked it away into series of secret accounts and in January, my man Mr. Yoon skipped town after feignin’ family emergency!

Intriguing?

No?

Ok, wait ‘cause shit thickened from there.

After Yoon made away with the loot, he went and had plastic surgery done…ingenious, right? Shit was lookin’ good for Mr. Yoon, he was the man but then he went and fucked it up by goin’ on a spendin’ spree in the district of Gangnam. His ten day binge included a brand new Benz, hot chicks and drinks.

Lifestyles like that would make any fugitive a sitting duck.

Mr. Yoon must not have seen Harrison Ford’s character in the Fugitive ‘cause if he had, he wouldn’t have splurged like he did. The police were unto his ass in no time like white on rice and so his reign as the man ended foolishly…

Outro

As I sit here contemplatin’ my fall from grace of bein’ the man in my friend’s eye, I hit play the button on my favorite song of the moment and kick my feet up. ..Shinedown - I’ll Follow You Play

I’ll follow you down through the eye of the storm

Don’t worry I’ll keep you warm

I’ll follow you down while we’re passing through space

I don’t care if we fall from grace…

 

 

Enjoy your day and take care of each other

 

Note:

Gangam is a district in Seoul (South Korea) and is considered the most affluent part of the metropolis.

Gangnam Style is South Korean term associated with upscale fashion and lavish lifestyle associated wit’ trendsetters

 

 

 

 

 

ONE GOOD TURN

Today

March 18

08:02

 

As I painfully flex my jaw for what seemed to the twentieth time, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout my torn favorite jeans. I love the black jeans and you can tell by the number of times I rock that shit in a week. And now the jeans gon’ be out of service til I get it washed and take it to the tailor for a patch up.

 

There’s something else on my mind apart from the pain in my jaw and my torn jeans and that is the fact that my Pops doesn’t give alms to beggars. One day I’d asked him why, he looked at me said, “if you know how cruel these seemingly invalid people can be when religious riot breaks out in the north (Northern Nigeria is predominantly Muslim) you’d understand where am coming from”

 

Huh, what’s the correlation between my painful jaw, my jeans and my Pops’ give-no-alms to beggars’ principle?

 

Sometime (2012)

August

18:45

 

Out on the street, a bunch of young boys (about five of ‘em, age 15 - 19) mumbled somethin’ I couldn’t understand at me from the other side of the street. I put a lil’ bass in my voice and some steel in my eyes and stepped to the one that looked to be there leader. I told him to speak in English if he wanted to talk to me. He took a whiff of the glue in his bottle and chuckled.

 

“Eh eh, sorry”

 

“Sorry for what?” I glared at him

 

“Do you have jeans? Please give” he managed to string together. His friends laughed but they were impressed

 

I understood what he wanted and it was his lucky day ‘cause I happened to have some jeans I haven’t worn in months. I asked ‘em where they’ll be same time the next day. They told me, so I promised I’d bring ‘em something

 

Next day, I kept my promise.

 

Sunday

March 16

20:38

 

As they emerged from behind the flood lights of the factory and the lone tree in the distant into the open space before the train tracks, my mind went into alert mode. I pocketed my BlackBerry and Nokia phones (gotta keep those babies save) can’t afford new ones if I got jacked. Next, I changed the way I walk, I usually do that in the night when am alone and my dangernometer is blinking red. Though the danger lights weren’t blood red but they were red all the same.

 

Hundred meters from the two approachin’ figures, I did a quick appraisal of the situation again and told myself its pro’ly nothin’ but I kept my guards up jus’ incase shit escalated, can’t be caught slippin’, can I? I pumped out my chest and changed my laid-back strides into long ones. I had my arms and legs wide apart as I do that walk. I must have cut a funny image of a gym rat that’s been working-out all day, a walk reminiscent of Agberos (Motor Park touts) in Lagos, Nigeria.

 

 

20:40

 

Jus’ before we met on the second train track, the two figures branched out, flankin’ me on both sides and that was when shit got crazy. Things happened so fast yet so slow, it was like the whole incident was put on a matrix-type slow motion and I was a movie goer enjoyin’ the action from the comfort of an air-conditioned cinema.

 

The figure on the left swiftly flung out him arm and clipped my jaw hard whilst tryin’ to put my neck in a choke-hold, I could barely breathe but no, my shortness of breath wasn’t as a result of the attacker tightenin’ lock around my windpipe, it was from somethin’ more menacin’, his body odor was more life-threatenin’ than his hold on my neck. The smell that flooded my nostrils was of unwashed body, I could feel goose bumps come alive on my skin as adrenalin kicked in, I shoved a powerful elbow into my attacker’s ribs, I felt his grip loosened, the other guy tried to close in but his shin met the tip of my swingin’ right foot, he staggered back.

 

I planted a good right hook into my attacker’s side, somewhere I knew Mohammed Ali would have been proud of me if he was there to see. Mr. choke-hold let out a guttural yelp. He let go of my neck, I took two steps back and gulped down the sweetest air I’ve ever breathed but there was no time for thanksgivin’, that’ll have to wait for Sunday service. My vein was pumped full of adrenalin, I charged toward my attackers with a fistful of sharp-edged gravels from the rail track. Niggas were stunned! They expected me to take to the hills but I did the exact opposite. The tide was in my favor.

 

Mr. choke-hold got his Johan Blake on when he saw me chargin’ toward him but nah, there wasn’t goin’ to be no great escape ‘cause the Usain Bolt in me was already locked on top gear. I flew after the mutherfucker in a sub 10sec speed and I kept screamin’ “I will kill you”.

I was faintly aware of the sound of crunchin’ gravels under my feet as I chased him down toward the darkness beneath the bridge. I took a quick look around and saw the other fool hightailing it in the other direction.

 

Jus’ before we emerged from the shadows of the bridge, Mr. Choke-hold slid and was fallin’ into a hole that wasn’t jus a hole; it was a man-hole. In that instant it dawned on me that this guy had used this escape hatch before. I had to do somethin’ fast before he vanished. Just before the subterranean hatch swallowed him up, I lunged forward and jet-li’d his head hard against the edge of the hole.

 

20:43

 

The veins in my forehead were bulging; I could feel it as I headed back in the direction where the muggin’ started. Attacker number 2 was shocked to see me runnin’ toward him. He ran and almost got hit by an on comin’ from under the bridge. I chased after him and jus’ like his friend, he ducked into the man-hole.

 

20:53

 

Fifty meters away from the hole, I laid low and still on the train track, lookin’ around as I did for any movement or sign that my attackers might be dumb enough to think that it was safe to come up for air. Ten minutes later and no sign of the muggers, I made my way up the bridge to get a bird’s eye view of the area and still no sign of the two punk asses.

 

20:57

 

As I walk home, I began to shake, adrenalin was leavin’ my body. My left thumb was sore and was my left jaw.

 

Monday

March 18

09:22

 

Outro

 

I’ve been told so many times to be wary of the street kids (they were no kids at all, if you ask me) at night. The boys that mugged me musta been 18 or 19 years old. Folks have told me gory tales of muggings and harassment by these night marauders but I’d always say that shit won’t happen to me and if it did, I’d make sure they pay in blood.

 

As write this, I massaged my jaw and wonder if one of the kids I gave my clothes was one of the two muggers.

 

Enjoy your Monday while i nurse the pain in my jaw, patch up my fav jeans and write the next blog

THE WORLD IS DYING OF...

Thursday
February 28

02:34

Tree huggers, earth lovers, greenies, eagle freaks, climate evangelists and all the other funny names they’re called *pauses to catch breath* are jus’ different names for the same death…the environmentalist/climate activist or alarmist, if you’re a cynic. These guys have sung themselves hoarse trying to convince everyone that cares to listen that the world is dying.

They’re tellin’ us the earthlings to stop stickin’ out big old dicks into Mother Nature anyhow. They said we need to stop carrying on like those mass murderers (also known as rebels) in the Congo. We’re raping Mother Nature and now she’s dying. I agree with the fact that we’re fuckin’ up our planet, the signs are all there (hurricane Sandy in Uncle Sam’s backyard, Tsunami in Japan, floods in the Philippines and other places) but am really not sure I bought into the reason we’re being sold for the impendin’ demise of the world.

What?

Did Mr. Atheist jus say, “God and religion will snuff the life out of the world”

Yeah, I know all about that tired argument y’all be throwin’ about. How so many needless wars have been fought in the name of some imaginary being in the sky. I see your crooked fingers pointin’ to 9-11 and the other devilment carried out in the name of religions. That’s some crude shit, I admit but hold your horse ‘cause I can see your ass is beginnin’ to warm up to that God-religion-killing-the-world theme.

Sorry to disappoint you but God and religion won’t kill the world. No siree, God is jus’ the easiest scapegoat for man’s devilry!

Huh?

Oh, broken hearted lovers got some’ to say too?

Hmm, why do I get the feelin’ that a broken hearted lover out there somewhere is sayin’ shut the fuck up Dobs! Through clenched teeth and bloodshot eyes, he or she is pro’ly sayin’ love is what the world would die of.

Too much love, too little love, fucked up love; those are the recipe for killin’ the earth and everythin’ in it. I hear you, jilted soul but am stickin’ to my theory.

Wednesday

February 27

21:20

Impatience would be the death of it!

Yeah, impatience is what the world will die of!

Why?

Impatience is the energy greed feeds on and greed is the root of all evil.

The fuck! Who the hell am I to make such an intelligent assertion *pats self on the back* Yeah yeah, I know what the bible said about the love of money being the root of all evil.

Outro

How did I come to this great awareness?

Am sure a lot of you are expectin’ somethin’ profound...somethin' like an encounter with aliens while the world was sleepin’ or somethin’ spiritual, right?

Well am sorry to disappoint you ‘cause it ain’t nothin’ like that at all. What am about to reveal to y’all kinda reminds of an interview Rick Dees had with Brian McKnight back in the days when “Back at one” was the song everyone was makin’ love to.

Some woman had tossed a question to Mr. McKnight; she wanted to know the inspiration behind such a romantic joint. McKnight told her a lil’ story ‘bout how he’d bought a new telephone and was trying to install it usin’ the instruction manual. The manual had steps one to five was to go back to step one if one does not understand the procedure. After Mr McKnight was done explainin’, “huh!” was all the lady could mutter.

The romantic inspiration she’d conjured in her mind of how the song was born was shattered forever!

Jus' like McKnight, i got no mind-blowin' tale. I came to my “Impatience” realization after seein’ an item on the news last night. Disappointed? I told y’all there was no spiritual visitation.

There’s a new disturbin’ trend in South Africa, folks with dreadlocks are gettin’ mugged and their treasured locks gettin' chopped off for cash. Dreadlocks are the new cash “crop” baby! Nigga jus can’t wait to grow their own shit. Impatience will lead to greed and other dumb shit!

 

 

Enjoy your day and take care of each other

NEW MASTER'S DEGREE

17 February
Monday
07:32

Would you show me the same respect you show to a psychologist or surgeon if I hand you my business card and it reads, Dr. Dobs, The world famous Mioirologist, huh?

Ever since I heard I could become a Moirologist in a short period of time and make a lot of Benjies while am at it, I’ve been givin’ the thought of gettin’ a master degree in moirology a lot of consideration. It’ll look hella good on my resume, wont it?

SPOKE CHINESE WRONG

Friday
8 February
17:45

Kids!

They are innocently beautiful especially when they’re still under the age of five but the moment they cross the five year line, life begins to throw stains at that spotless innocence.  From age six, seven upward, kids start to take on a mean streak without even realizin’ it. They start to pick on the seemingly weak ones among ‘em, makin’ fun of ‘em and even formin’ their own cliques.

THE GIRL & THE CHEF

Today
Wednesday
07:48

Uncle!

‘Thando, my lil’ two year old friend (the landlady’s daughter) excitedly called out to me as she ran out of their kitchen toward my opened door. I’d left the door to the crib open so that the cool morning breeze could come in and air out the joint. It is the healthy thing to do especially if you were up all night contaminating the air inside with dirty thoughts and stuff.  Huh, stuff? Umm, it is exactly what your un-churchly minds are thinkin’, you dirty people!

THE TRAVEL

Friday
January 13, 2012
Island of Giglio
21:45

Close to the eastern coast of the Island of Giglio, off the western coast Italy, it was said that there were no storms or icebergs. They said though the weather was overcast, the Tyrrhenian Sea was calm as a mutherfucker and yet, it was under those conditions that the Costa Concordia, a world class cruise ship under the command of Captain Francesco Schettino, struck a rock and sank to her knees like Monica Lewinsky waxin’ Bill Clinton’s bald avenger in the White House back in ’95! Both events were tragic in a different way.

PUBLIC OUTCRY

Tuesday
January 8
02:51

Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about drawers, boxers’, jockstraps and all those other contraptions men wear beneath their pants to keep the deep V divers and the cojones in check. The “deep V divers and the cojones, don’t you jus like how that sounds, huh? Ladies, those words sounds so so sweet, don’t it?

NICE TO MEET YA

Sunday
January 6
16:03

“I can’t believe they’re celebrating their three months anniversary” guy X said. “And we only just broke up like two months ago,” he continued.

Whoa! I exclaimed quietly

Can you believe that shit? He asked but I knew he wasn’t really expectin’ an answer from me so I jus’ kept quiet and shook my head like an agama lizard.

NO ORDINARY LOVE

Today
Wednesday
January 2, ‘13
08:49

Been a couple of weeks since I last logged in an entry up in this mutherfucker, accept my arrogantly written humble apology. Ah ha! Durin’ my hiatus I wrote a hundred entries…all in my head! Lazy ass me but I promise am gon change.

Anyways, am back and guess what? I’m writin’ this in my lucky white drawers! Been wearin it since late 31^st December! Yeah, I know, I’ll take it off after am done churnin’ out this entry.

Dobs' LOST DAYS SERIES (Shenanigans from FB)

Days When Boys Make Cassettes For Girls...Cassettes Containin' Songs That Contains Shit They'd Like To Say But Couldn't... badlydrawndobs.com Simple times

Days When We Used To Record Our Mixes From Radio And Them On-Air-Personalities/DJs Try To Mess The Recordin' Up By Talkin' or Playin' Their Jingles In The Middle Of The Song!Days When There Were No Cellphones (jus landlines and only very very few folks got 'em) And You Actually Have To Go Hang Around A Girl's Crib Waitin' For When She'll Be Sent Out To Buy Somethin'

Days When There Were Jus Landlines And When You Pick A Call You Couldn't Lie That You Weren't Home...but now wit cellphones, folks lie bout their whereabout.

Days When Rice & Chicken Were Christmas Specials.

HOW JOHN MET HER MAJESTY, THE QUEEN

Monday
November 19
11:09

You can look me in my face (I ain’t got no worries) x3
See the sh-rooms keep me up (I ain’t got no worries) x3

I don’t like this song but somehow I found myself repeatin’ this hook in my head as I got dressed and ready to get to out the crib. As if the DJ on the station I was tuned-in to read my thoughts, he puts the song on! I got real worries but for some reason this Lil Wayne song jus wouldn’t leave me alone. I flipped the station to the good old’ BBC and I heard an interestin’ story about a boy. The story held me down for the next five minute…

STRONG MEN

Monday

05 November

*singing*

L’ojo Monday Eko Oni Gba Gba Ku’gba

Umm, have I talked about this song before in one of my posts? I’m sure I have but hey, I had to bring it back ‘cause I got another curious yarn to spin about the most hated day of the week. And nope, I can’t promise the song won’t pop up again somewhere down my future posts. There’s no way I’m gon’ talk about Monday without bringin’ this classic by the late afro beat legend Fela Anikulapo Kuti into the convo. Can I say somethin’ profound real quick? Fela never sung a bad song. No lie!

What!

You don’t know who Fela is/was? Get on Google or Wikipedia and educate your ass… do it quick! That nigga is in the same class as the jazz greats: Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong, Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, John Coltrane and the others. Please don’t turn up your snotty nose and say, “why is this nigga blaspheming?” Oh, you said that in your head already! Ok. Lol!

L’ojo Monday Eko Oni Gba Gba Ku’gba (On Monday morning, Lagos (Nigeria) takes no shit from nobody)

That right there was the mentality I grew up with and I can confidently say the same for all the people on my block. On Monday mornings, we don’t play. We don’t want nobody “monkeying” around and put the hex on the rest of the week for us. We believe the way you start the week is likely how you gon’ end it. I know some folks might say it’s superstitious but fuck it, it is what it is.

09:25

Don’t you jus’ hate when a street hustler steps up to you (unsolicited) and try to sweet talk you or even sometime try somethin’ close to manhandlin’ you into makin’ a buy of whatever it is he or she (usually he) is sellin’? don’t you jus’ hate!

Monday morning, my spirit was sky high, no Monday blues like most folks. I had black pants on my ass and a sky blue long-sleeved shirt on my back. My afro was oiled and combed, and my craggy beard was, well, still a little bit craggy. I walked down the central business district swingin’ (if you got Papa Roach’s ”Still Swinging” playin’ in my head you’d be swingin’ too). In that moment, I was oblivious to the pain in the world, I was happy as a dick gettin’ waxed by Megan Good’s lips but all that was brought to an untimely end when some guy stepped alongside me wit’ a package of bottles in his hand, I took one look and I knew exactly what they were…

Between 09:50 and 10:38

Yeah, you’re pro’ly sayin’ there is really nothin’ strange about the incident I jus’ recounted, well I thought the same thing, matter of fact, I chucked it down to a random act by the universe but wait a second cause things weirder and weirder. And what would you know, the same shit happened again and again… two other hustlers tried to sell me the same damn stuffs the first hustler tried to sell me, all within the space of one hour!

I kept thinkin’ to myself, don’t these niggas know it’s too damn early in the day to be tryin’ to sell a nigga these stuff, I mean, I smell good for God’s sakes. The more I tried to get away from these guys by gettin’ my Johnny Walker on the more they kept comin’ at me proclaimin’ how long lasting their goods were.

Strong Men, 7 Hours, Big Boy & Other Packaged Stuffs

Nope! Strong Men, 7 Hours, Big Boy and others aren’t the names of exotic perfumes; they are all herbal equivalent of Viagra! What coulda given me away? Was it my walk or my craggy beard? May be I had a sign on my forehead sayin’ “here goes an aspirin’ porn star who couldn’t get it up or something?”

 

Outro

Tuesday

06 November

11:22

Up until the moment am penning down this entry, there’s been nothin’ to suggest that Monday would repeat itself on a Tuesday but then again, it’s still too early in the day or week to say, right?

 

 

 

I DO

Saturday
27 October, 2012
12:05

Wedding Day
“If any among you here today have any genuine reason why these two should not be joined together as man and wife, say it now or forever hold your mutherfuckin’ peace,” the pastor’s voice boomed across the small church.

Oh, did the pastor really say that?

The answer to that is hell yeah! Every word in that sentence was the pastor’s except for a very tiny part. And what part would that be? I think y’all already mutherfuckin’ know... I snuck that one tiny bit in there for emphasis. Ah ha!

Anyways, up until the moment the pastor spoke those famous words, I had been driftin’ in and out of naps and daydreams, I bolted upright like a sleepwalker who’s just been caught standin’ butt naked in the neighbor’s front porch and the very beautiful Miss Jones had jus’ smacked him across the face to shake some wakefulness into that ass! I came alive. I kinda had a feelin’ that some sort of drama was goin’ to go down.

I’ve heard of weddings where all kinds of people (people in this case would be, women, mostly women scorned) stepped out of the woodworks to throw spanners into whatever productions was goin’ on. Am I being politically incorrect by sayin’ women would rather disrupt a weddin’ than “forever hold their peace?” Maybe I am but I can honestly say I’ve never heard of a situation where a jilted man stooped that low. If somebody decided to get married to somebody else instead of you, what they unwittingly did was to save your ass from future sorrow, jus’ fuckin’ breathe and let that shit go! Hmmm, am beginnin’ to sound like that nigga Dr. Phil, aren’t I?

12:05:56
The silence in the church had that graveyard eeriness to it, every small moment was amplified. I shifted very slowly in my seat, all too aware of the look an exaggerated movement might earn me from fams and friends of the bride and groom. From my position in the back of the church, I craned my neck, tryin’ to see if my nigga, the groom, was sweatin’ bullets but all I was able see was his white suited shoulders and the back of his well-oiled black scull.

I sat there wonderin’ what was goin’ through the couples’ (especially the groom) mind. Now am not sayin’ my boy was a playa but I was damn sure the ghosts of girlfriends past must have flooded his mind’s eyes.

12:07
Jus’ as the pastor was about to get things goin’, a woman holdin’ a child stood up from somewhere in the navel of the church. Heads swivelled  Eyes bulged as the woman made her way to the aisle!

What! Shit was about to get real and all the stories I’ve heard about scorned women shuttin’ weddings down was about to come to life right in front of my naked eyes!

For a moment almost everybody in the church held their breath and you could hear one huge hum as folks collectively exhaled as the woman turned left and headed for the back exit door to breastfeed her baby.

12:12
With the dotted lines signed, the pastor pronounced the couple man and wife at exactly twelve past midday. And that, ladies and gentlemen was the first weddin’ I ever sat through from start to finish.

Outro
I still haven’t asked what was runnin’ through my nigga’s mind durin’ those few minutes the pastor asked them axe grinders to speak up or forever hold their peace but I promise am gon ask as soon as he turns his phone on... he’s away on honeymoon, by the way.

Happy matrimony to everybody who’s done it and to those plannin’ to get those two words in, watch your back especially if you’ve left a trail of broken marriage proposals in your wake.

TALK BACK

Today
Monday
September 3
11:13
Here's a lil' some' y’all weren’t privileged to, a lil' a convo that went down between me and my friend B a few days back. I've been havin' convos (more like a tiff) like that for sometime now...here’s a lil' snippet.

"You put too much pressure on yourself, men! Carryin’ that darn thing around all day ain’t no joke," B looked at me with pain.

“I know men but you know there are stuffs I need to take to town and shit, can’t leave the bag alone” I said

“C’mon man, be a lil considerate to both of us. It’d help a whole lot more if you leave your laptop at home more often. Some shit can wait, you know? And it ain't like you use it in town all the time. Take some burden off of your ass, nigga” B said. I could sense B was irritated.

“Touché” I whispered. “You know you and me are one, right? We both want the same thing.”

“Fuck that shit! If we both want the same then why do you keep ignorin’ the pain, huh?”

“I understand where you’re comin’ from but try and understand me too,” I said while rubbin’ on B, nothin’ sexual jus a good old friendly rub.

“Get your hands off me punkass! Stop tryna bribe me, nigga. That shit won’t work. All I need you to do is pay attention to all the warnings I’ve been givin’ your ass”

“Ok, give me some time and I’ll find a solution, aight?”

“Good!”

“We cool then, huh?” I asked. B answered with a head nod.

Friday
August 31
Lately I’d been makin’ conscious effort to carry my backpack less and less on my back. Instead of lettin’ it ride on my back all the time like it’s suppose to, I’d started clutchin’ it, jus swingin’ it from left to right as I go through the day.

Huh? But backpacks are made for backs? Yeah yeah, I know they call it backpack for a reason.

10:08
Some skinny jeans wearin’ dude bumped into me... well, not me exactly bump into me but technically, bumpin’ into my bag, which is like an extension of me would amount to bumpin’ into me, wouldn't it or do we need to pull a law book of some sort out on this?

At the moment of impact, I’d jus switched hands from left to right in order to relieve the left of the strain that was beginin’ to be unbearable. Though, it wasn't exactly an earth-shakin’ bumpin’ into but it was a big enough collision for me to turn around and try to get a good look at the person that jus disrespected my world famous backpack. My first reaction was to go after the guy and demand an apology and pro’ly give him a verbal ass whoopin’ if he doesn't act right. I took one look at the guy as he swaggered away and smiled. Why? I mean, dude’s pants hung so low, his drawers seemed to be sayin’ hi to everybody and most off of all, nigga looked like a walkin’ scarecrow.

I admit, one of my flaws is not bein’ able to let a disrespect go, no matter how small, I jus have to call it out right there and then but the good thing is, if I don’t deal wit it right away, I jus let it slide and that was what I did, I let it slide.

Ok, the truth is, I wasn't really worried about the bag at all (if Pro-Specs, the manufacturer of the bag knows that the bag is still in existence, they’d pro’ly be beatin’ a path down to my door to have it in their museum), my concern was for the laptop inside. Imagine if the laptop fell and broke, that would be a disaster of epic proportion, the world as we know it would change forever! *shakes* God forbid!

Outro
If that dude hadn't bumped into my backpack I’d pro’ly wouldn’t be havin’ a rethink or another conversation with B.

Who is B again? Oh, I didn’t tell y’all who B was? My bad!

Umm, B stands for my Back by the way!

Yep! Is that a typo? Nope, it isn't. You read me right.

A convo wit’ ones’ back, who does that! A sane man, that’s who! Some of y’all still can't wrap your heads around it, can ya?

See, on the face value, shit like havin’ a convo wit’ parts of your body might seem like madness to somebody on the outside lookin’ in but it actually helps when you need some kinda resolution... when I say somebody on the outside lookin’ in, am talkin’ bout YOU! Yep, you readin’ this. But then again, somethin’ tells you've had dialogues wit a part of your body before, haven’t you?

Image courtesy of stockimages / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

TALK BACK

Today

Monday

September 3

11:13

Here's a lil' some' y’all weren’t privileged to, a lil' a convo that went down between me and my friend B a few days back. i've been havin' convos (more like a tiff) like that for sometime now...here’s a lil snippet

”You put too much pressure on yourself, men! Carryin’ that darn thing around all day ain’t no joke,” B looked at me with pain

“I know men but you know there are stuffs I need to take to town and shit, can’t leave the bag alone” I said

  “C’mon man, be a lil considerate to both of us. It’d help a whole lot more if you leave your laptop at home more often. Some shit can wait, you know? And it aint like you use it in town all the time. Take some burden off of your ass, nigga” B said. I could sense B was irritated.

“Touché” I whispered. “You know you and me are one, right? We both want the same thing”

“Fuck that shit! If we both want the same then why do you keep ignorin’ the pain, huh?”

“I understand where you’re comin’ from but try and understand me too,” I said while rubbin’ on B, nothin’ sexual jus a good old friendly rub.

“Get your hands off me punkass! Stop tryna bribe me, nigga. That shit won’t work. All I need you to do is pay attention to all the warnings I’ve been givin’ your ass”

“Ok, give me some time and I’ll find a solution, aight?”

“Good!”

“We cool then, huh?” I asked. B answered with a head nod.

Friday

August 31

Lately I’d been makin’ conscious effort to carry my backpack less and less on my back. Instead of lettin’ it ride on my back all the time like it’s suppose to, I’d started clutchin’ it, jus swingin’ it from left to right as I go through the day.

Huh? But backpacks are made for backs?  Yeah yeah, I know they call it backpack for a reason.

10:08

Some skinny jeans wearin’ dude bumped into me…well, not me exactly bump into me but technically, bumpin’ into my bag, which is like an extension of me would amount to bumpin’ into me, wouldn’t it or do we need to pull a law book of some sort out on this?

At the moment of impact, I’d jus switched hands from left to right in order to relieve the left of the strain that was beginin’ to be unbearable. Though, it wasn’t exactly an earth-shakin’ bumpin’ into but it was a big enough collision for me to turn around and try to get a good look at the person that jus disrespected my world famous backpack. My first reaction was to go after the guy and demand an apology and pro’ly give him a verbal ass whoopin’ if he doesn’t act right. I took one look at the guy as he swaggered away and smiled. Why? I mean, dude’s pants hung so low, his drawers seemed to be sayin’ hi to everybody and most off of all, nigga looked like a walkin’ scare crow.

I admit, one of my flaws is not bein’ able to let a disrespect go, no matter how small, I jus have to call it out right there and then but the good thing is, if I don’t deal wit it right away, I jus let it slide and that was what I did, I let it slide.

Ok, the truth is, I wasn’t really worried about the bag at all (if Pro-Specs, the manufacturer of the bag knows that the bag is still in existence, they’d pro’ly be beatin’ a path down to my door to have it in their museum), my concern was for the laptop inside. Imagine if the laptop fell and broke, that would be a disaster of epic proportion, the world as we know it would change forever! *shakes* God forbid!

Outro

If that dude hadn’t bumped into my backpack I’d pro’ly wouldn’t be havin’ a rethink or another conversation with B.

Who is B again? Oh, I didn’t tell y’all who B was? My bad!

Umm, B stands for my Back by the way!

Yep! Is that a typo? Nope, it isn’t.  You read me right.

A convo wit’ ones’ back, who does that! A sane man, that’s who! Some of y’all still cant wrap your heads around it, can ya?

See, on the face value, shit like havin’ a convo wit’ parts of your body might seem like madness to somebody on the outside lookin’ in but it actually helps when you need some kinda resolution…when I say somebody on the outside lookin’ in, am talkin’ bout YOU! Yep, you readin’ this. But then again, somethin’ tells you’ve had dialogues wit a part of your body before, haven’t you?

THE BEAT DOWN

21 June
Tuesday
12:10
I looked at the time on my phone again as my piss 'o meter gradually edged towards highly pissed. I mean, I wasn't supposed to stay more than five minutes at the bus terminals but the dude I was waitin’ on, had had my ass there for a lil over ten minutes ...and countin’.

Jus’ as I was thinkin’ of ringin’ his ass up again, he called, beggin’ me to be patient and that he’d come through in the next twenty minutes. I know some time I get ticked off quite easily, so I took a deep cleasin’ breath (oh hell, how cleansin’ can the air at a bus station wit close a thousand souls millin’ around be). I try to pass the time by listenin’ to the lil’ recordings of songs I’d be composin’ (my songs... all unfinished). It’s one of my lil’ distractions, kinda connects me wit’ myself... anyways, if there’s any A&R man readin’ this, am the man you need to discover. Lol!

12:18
Face glued to my writin’ pad, head bobbin’ to the sound of my recordings. Call it narcissistic or whatever you want but there’s somethin’ vain-gloriously calmin’ about listenin’ to the sound of your own voice playin’ back to you... that is freakin’ cathartic! Come to think of it, a playback of your ass doin’ somethin’ you wouldn’t want to see the light of day might jus get your blood pressures up especially if your name is Prince Harry and you’re third in line to the British throne.

I was lost in the groove until some peddler came and stood across my table; I didn't even bother lookin’ at him or what he was tryin’ to sell. I already know how these hustlers operate. They invite themselves into your presence and try to tempt you like the serpent did Eve in the garden a while back. They stand in front of you long enough to get you to give more than a passing look at what they got. Well, I got my own tactic too, I jus' ignore ‘em til they get the message and move the hell on and that was exactly what I did.

About fifty seconds later, the hustler was still standin’ there like some sort of stature; the punk ass jus won’t go away like the proverbial coin. I looked up to see what the homeboy was sellin’ and right there in both his hands were a polythene bag full of lipsticks! For the time it took for my face to travel from the bags in hands to his face, my look switched from your pleasant average Joe smile to that no nonsense Danny Trejo look and the motherfucker promptly got the message. He got out of my sight like a house on fire. I mean, what the fuck, do I look like a lipstick wearin’ nigga? Nigga musta been slightly inebriated to wanna sell me shit like that.

12:23
As I watched the lipstick man go, I noticed somethin’ that got me thinkin’ about what upsets a man’s sanity scale. I've never been certifiably mad but I know there’s always an event that shifts a man’s balance and tips his ass into insanity, right? Y’all ever notice how mad people are always are on about a particular thing? So there I was lookin’ at an old mad man in a torn hat and an ill-fittin’ ragged suit who kept goin’ from folks to folks (I counted eight) askin’ them for what the time was.

That shit got me wonderin’ that may be the man’s obsession wit time’s got some’ to do wit why he went mad! For a few nanoseconds I thought what if the lipstick man was to go mad, would he be goin’ around obsessin’ after lipsticks? Yeah, me and my evil hyperactive mind, right?

12:26
As the old mad hatter moved away from the couple sittin’ on the bench with two other chicks (they had their backs to me), I saw somethin’ that got me sittin’ straight in my chair. The couple were fightin’ or to put it more succinctly, the man was head-buttin’ and slappin’ the woman. It felt unreal and that disturbin’ image wouldn’t let me sit. I stood up and move close to get a good look at the situation. As I got closer, my blood started boilin’, veins were poppin’ up on my arms (that happens when am mad, stressed or excited), I was ready to dumb-slap the motherfucker from the back but he was saved by a call that came through on his phone. He stood and moved away about twenty steps to answer the call. Nigga wasn’t aware of how close he came to a king size bitch slap.

I stood there waitin’ and watchin’ as he talked and laughed on the phone as if it was jus' another day in paradise. Meanwhile, the chick was sittin’ there cryin’. I could tell she was cryin’ from the way her head drooped and how she dabbed the eyes with her wrapper (a wrap-around cloth).

The motherfucker in the red shirt came back like nothin’ was wrong and started whisperin’ in the woman’s ear, I stood there a lil confused like how could this nigga go from the devil in the red dress to a sweet-nothin’-whisperin’ angel in a few minutes? I shrugged and told myself “good thing I wasn't too hasty at dishin’ out that king-size slap at all”.

I went back to my seat but hardly have I sat down than the fool started head-buttin’ the woman again. I grabbed my bag and made for the guy but before I got there, nigga grabbed the lady and began makin’ their way into the right wing of the terminal. As I turned to follow them, three other guys came up to me and said they too have been watchin’ what was goin’ on. As if we’ve rehearsed the move, we marched after the couple, unbeknownst to them…unbeknownst, did y’all catch that? Damn! Who’d have thought a nigga like me would use such an archaic word. Lol!

A step behind the wife batterin’ fool, I finally got the chance to unload a nasty slap on the motherfucker. No word or explanation was needed. As he turned to find out what he hit him, I welcomed his face wit another wrath of god-like smack, bam! Nigga staggered backward, tryna get his balance. The other three guys generously donated a couple more slaps to the wife batterer’s face. The fool tried to explain that chick was his wife but we weren’t tryin’ to hear none of it. Pussy ass nigga started cryin’ to the wife, “Have you seen what you have done now.” I mean, can you believe it, he was blamin’ the wife!
For even hintin’ that the wife was responsible the beat down he was gettin’, I smacked him on the face some more and told the wife, “You better get yourself some help before this man kills you.”

Outro
I know some ladies can really over do shit sometime but whatever happens, no lady should have to endure shit like what that lady took. I mean, it wasn’t enough that the poor chick had to take beatings at the crib, the stupid husband didn’t give a fuck if they were in public, he whooped the wife’s ass wherever!

The irony of the whole thing was, the wife begged for us to spare the schmuck. Some folks came and begged for the fool too. They pro’ly thought we were goin’ to send him to his maker if they let the jungle justice carry on. Anyways, we reluctantly left them (the couples) but guess what I found out later? The man took the wife to a secluded spot and took off where I he left off. Unfortunately for him, one of the guys that was wit us saw what happened and took the fool to the police and they promptly locked his ass up. Another sad irony to the whole episode was that the wife was pro’ly the one who had to post bail for the fool.

12:40
I forgot to mention that I ran into the guy I was waitin’ for at the wife beater’s beat-down.