Category: rant?


Show Me


I ramble. You read.

SHOW ME

I wish I could see what you see; see what you saw.

I want to see what you wish you could  un-see; how deliciously defiling would it be?

Show me the good times, the bad times -especially the bad times- my pretty.

My mouth waters at the thought of your eyes brimming with tears.

I lick my lips at the thoughts of your eyes widened in horror.

Tell me! Show me!

I want to revel in the horror your eyes have feasted on.

Can I peel them back? Peel your eyes back and stare into them, I mean?

The eyes are windows to the soul.

I want to break your windows without a care in the world and crawl in like a thief.

Desecrate all you hold sacred; bring to light all you clench down tightly in the darkness.

I want to know what you had known; what you wish you didn’t know.

Don’t spare me, tell it all!

Can I lick your eyeballs?

Maybe…just maybe I could taste your memories.

I want to know.

I need to know.

Show me!

I do not care if remembering would break you down.

I do not care if it makes you scarred.

I do not care if remembering would DRIVE YOU MAD!

Or me mad?

Aren’t we all mad?

TELL ME!

SHOW ME!

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Day 17


So it’s Monday and I know how we all love Mondays. Oh you didn’t get the memo? LOL. -_-
Yes, we love Mondays and I decided to write about something i tweeted last evening.

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.

So saw a Retweet about a Sex playlist and this shit struck me as funny. Apparently, some of you have songs you want to have sex to?
Really?
How does that work?
When do you put on the music or when is the right time to put on the music? I’m asking girls because guys don’t do that shit. (If you do, you’re gay, in which case, you’re a chic.)
Let me get this straight:
You and a dude all giggly and messing around, soon the play kisses get intense. You undress. Dude is ready to charge and you say “Hold on let me put on some music.”
Really??????
You now put on some gay ass song with a gay-ass singer (Hey Trey) singing about sex and that shit supposed to be romantic?
If I were a guy, my erection would die instantly. I mean why the hell would I want to listen to some guy telling me he wants me to touch his body?
Or is it R-Kelly? What if the song you put is the guy’s fave song and dude FUCKING STARTS TO SING AND TWERK INSTEAD OF GIVING YOU SOME!!!!? WTF IS THIS?!!
AN INDIAN PORN MOVIE?
Niggas be thrusting and shii and all of a sudden, a couple of other naked niggas appear and y’all break into a fucking dance. That’s what I think of when I hear ‘SEX PLAYLIST’.

How does that even work with quickies? Say he’s driving and suddenly feels the need to offload (It happens!). He parks the car and leads you into a bush.(It happens!) He’s tryna raise your skirt quickly because you’re wearing no underwear (IT BLOODY HAPPENS!) And all of a fucked-up sudden you say something like “Hold on, let me get my phone”
Mans would think you wanna put it off or something and you scroll to the Sex Playlist on your phone and click play?
If I was yo man, I’d leave your music-loving ass in that bush, walk to my car and drive off! I hope your music attracts some wild-ass animals to taste your MUSIC. LOVING. ASS! LET’S SEE HOW YOU’D LIKE THAT!
CRAP!

If I were to make up a sex playlist, I’d make it an Igbo traditional music. Have you heard the drums on them things? FAST!
I would expect the guy to pump in time or faster to that. Now THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.
But let’s be real, no sane guy would agree to shag to that cause his faggoty-ass don’t gat no rhythm!
That’s some hip-shaking music! That’s the way to conceive FUCKING CHAMPIONS! Hercules wasn’t conceived to bloody Akon singing ‘I just Had sex’ in the background!
If you ain’t gonna do some Igbo Heavy Metal, TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!
Let us both scream and make our own music; well in my case, you scream in pain and I scream in laughter.

The only reasonable reason I see why you’d want to play music is so no one knows what you doing. In which case, I suggest you to just put on a bloody Christian song. But you wouldn’t would you? You can’t get your groove on with Akanchawa playing in the background can you? Because it would feel like Jesus is watching yo wide, naked ass, calling some next guy yo daddy. You dirry, dirry girl!
If you wanna mask the sound so bad, listen to Celine Dion. But is that possible? I mean one minute he’s pulling your hair the next y’all are hugging and crying, singing “Every night in my dream, I see you, I feel you…”
CRAP!

As I said in my tweet, If you have the time to put on music, the you really aren’t horny to be frank with your thirsty-ass self. I mean it’s  a NEED! Your body is SHAKING! LIKE GRRRRRRRR AMMA GRIND THIS GUY TO THE GROUND! AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR MUSIC AT THIS POINT!
YOU THROW THAT NIGGA ON A WALL, YOU RIP THOSE CLOTHES OFF AND YOU BLOODY. GET.  IT!!!!!
Maybe after the 15th or 16th round when his weak-ass is near death, then you can play some music to revive him, Nahwhamsaying??

If you REALLY insist on a song, I’ll recommend one. Ladies, this song would tell your man exactly what you want. I recommend this STRONGLY.

Tie me Down by Concentus.

Tie Me Down and Fuck Me (Hard)
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come tie me down – bring the cuffs (At this point his sorry-ass better be working!)

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i cry
come fuck me hard – until i’m sore (AHMEAN!!!!! PREACH!)

make me scream
make me bleed
make me scream
make me bleed 

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come strap me down – bring the whip

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i die (Ok. Pause. Dafuq…?)
come fuck me hard – until i bleed

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

never foreplay
come on and tie me down – never foreplay (This right here is the bridge. THIS IS WHERE YOU GO FOR GOLD LIKE YOU IN DA OLYMPICS!)
come on and fuck me hard – never foreplay
come on and suck me dry – never foreplay

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream (HE BETTER OBEY DAFUGGING INSTRUCTION SISTAH!!!)

Wanna know the beauty of this song? IT’S FRIGGIN’ EIGHT MINUTES LONG! It’s long enough for a round! AND YOU CAN BLOODY PUT IT ON REPEAT!

If yo man runs outta the house clothes in hands once it starts playing, HE AIN’T MAN ENOUGH!
If he breaks up with you cos he thinks your preedy ass is psycho, HE. AIN’T. MAN. ENOUGH!

It’s that simple.

I am done.

Have a lovely Monday. I know I will…

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.
In case you didn’t see it the first time, bloody bat-eyes.

-_-


I know, I know. I haven’t written anything here.
Suck lemons. Inspiration cannot be picked up on the streets.

Having a bad day and you know what i get like when I have those. Yes, cranky.

This isn’t even a rant.
More like a bitter review.

I am sure most of you knew about Bag of Rice Ross coming to Lagos et al.

Yeah.

Decided to evaluate the dress sense/looks of the some people that attended.

I got these pictures from bellanaija.com so you can go there to see everything.
Don’t even know if it is legal to cull the pictures but I’m just too tired to care ok?

Right here, I’m just going to pick the bad ones.
What? I am nice.

————————————-

Number 1, this lady.

I am actually struggling to understand what is going on.
1. I love the jacket.
Everything else is unsightly. Should I start from below?

1. The shoes. HORRENDOUS. Horrendous design. Horrendous colour.
Horrendous style that doesn’t go with her ensemble.

2. Those trousers. Either it was an artistic idea of a deranged tailor, it it was a bad attempt at tacking up torn trousers with pins.
What would have happened if she had worn plain black trousers??

3. Turtle necked shirt+ the chunky thing on her neck.
I will just LOOOOL and move to the next picture please. Can’t look at this for long.

———————————————————————-

Eva Alordiah.
I love Eva’s music.
I love her style..sometimes.
This, is a lesson on Doing too much.
I understand the fact that she’s trying to go for the ‘Rockstar’ look.
This right here, went to the Rockstar look bus stop, passed it, and stopped at the Mildly insane bus stop.
Any further and she’d have looked like Denrele.
I mean. The leather jacket is so friggin cool. Why add the leather gloves?
Not just one, BUT TWO!
And the gaudy baubles that she adorned her fingers with are just too damn poor!
Love the skull ring. Does it work here, Not for me!
MEH!

——————————————————————————

I have only two words to say about this:
SCISSORS PLEASE!

——————————————————————————–

Bikonu what is this?
This…This is just..i don’t even know.
Pretty lady, from her waist up.
WHAT. THE. HELL. ARE. THOSE SHOES?
Like DID. SHE. REALLY. THINK. THIS. THROUGH?
I won’t even start with the fact that this was worn in Nigeria.
The boots just did not work.
Not one bit.
My Chi says no to this.

—————————————————————————–

Some jokes just tell themselves.
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL
Where do i start from?
I mean, this is a Rick Ross fan if I’ve ever seen one.
Built like him dammit!
And the dress?
Good Lord. Can your Precious blood wash away even this sin?
*cries into teacup*
The hair. The bag. The shoes. The…EVERYTHING.
Like WHAT. IS. THIS!
I’d recommend a meeting with Toolz O for this lady.
She seriously needs that Body Magic Toolz O uses.
That shit can make Rick Ross look like Big Sean no lies!

——————————————–

When i first saw this picture, I swear I actually thought it was a Photoshop trick.
Like the same person, twice.
Sadly, they’re sisters and it seems looks are not the only thing they have in common.
Where do i start from?
Their pose? Almost like the Earth tilted when they stood and you find yourself slanting slightly just to look at them.
Their synchronized dressing? (or lack of dressing if i dare say)
Can i mention the poses again? Especially of the girl to the right.
Never seen a worse ‘Suck belle’ pose.  Or is that a ‘Push brezz up’ pose?
I can’t…just..
Next please.

————————————————————–

Another one who needs to meet Toolz O.
I really do think Toolz should own her own fashion label. Like seriously.
Women like this shouldn’t be found wearing something this painfully…disturbing.
This is a look only slim girls should try.
ONLY.
Still short of words.
Like I can actually hear the cries of her genitalia, begging to breathe!
And are those shoes or did she tie red pieces of cloths to her ankles?
Even her belt is saying the pray of Forgiveness and Redemption
And she’s so good looking!
That is the annoying bit!
It’s almost like she was trying to re enact her slimmer days or something.
Nah..
I just give up.

I am done.

Hungry and getting hungry gets me angrier.

FOH.

On Fathers


For Paternak

A father’s day post is sort of impromptu but the muse moves and I must obey. Its hard being a man, so many rules, so many constraints, so many expectations. The rules change right before your very eyes and your actions have such far reaching consequences it is almost paralyzing. Sometimes its easy to forget that men are human too, as flawed and weak as the women we love and care for, conceive and raise. Many are too weak to stay, some get swept away under the intensities of life. A father is charged with protecting his spawn, defending them and instilling values into them, being the voice of unwavering authority, the facilitator and fixer upper. In all this, the father is somehow expected to know that he should be gentle and kind, find a way to show unconditional love and instill so much trust in his child that nothing is too much to be shared. Some fathers are lucky enough to strike a natural balance but some fathers end up going to extremes. Having had quite a few intense friendships, I have seen first hand how hard it is to be there unconditionally without murking up your principles or becoming a yes man.

I grew up with two fathers, intriniscally the same but vastly different in their approach to life and love. And I have inherited traits from both, some which I fight and some which I emulate. But today’s post is not about me or my childhood but about the people I hold dear. There’s this girl I know, who has had to be her own father because the depression she struggles with every single day is too much for a single mother with three other children to bear. Somehow she still finds the strength to be there for others, share a smile and a word of advice for those who needs it. She has her down days when she privately retreats and fights the voices in her head, but she always come out stronger because she knows there are others who are weaker than she is, people she needs to be strong for. There’s this boy I know who has had to live through the deaths of the patriachs in his family and the void their absence created, yet somehow he still looks out for the best in others, even the self destructive ones. He gives all for his friends, never afraid to be the voice of dissent or the one who won’t toe the line everyone else is. People think of him as reclusive or elitist but he doesn’t let the chatter worry him, he is confident in who he is and isn’t afraid to live as his values dictate. I know this man who is ever cheerful and willing to make a new friend, willing to offer a word of advice from his vast experience and be a shoulder when it is needed. Sometimes his ‘cheerfulness’ irritates me and I withdraw but just knowing that he’ll listen is a comfort. There’s this friend of mine whose weaknesses remind me that people are flawed, he is so smart and insightful but has these moments of selfishness that make me realise how human we really are. How flawed men can be if we don’t check ourselves every single day we are awake. These are some of the people I consider my ‘fathers’.
I want children. I have always loved them from when I was three and forever trying to carry my much larger twin brother on my back because I was ‘older’ than him by ten minutes. I have had many opportunities to ‘parent’ a lot of my cousins and aunt’s children and I have come to appreciate the priviledge and responsibility it is to bring a child into the world. A baby is not something you can carry for a few hours and hand over when it begins to cry from a bout of colic. A child is not drycleaning that you can drop off and pick a few days later all rid of its acquired flaws. A teenager will always return home like a homing pigeon when he/she has stirred up trouble you had no hand in starting. Coupled with the horrific stories I see and hear, I am more and more humbled by what it takes to raise a child you can be proud of. I’ve seen first hand how teenagers can wake up one morning and rebel so completely they break your heart, how you can raise a child who turns out so socially inept you start to ask questions and prod them to do things you should be normally be preventing them from doing; how some children can live multiple lives and fool you so completely that when you eventually catch on, its too late to help. Being a parent is hard, but being a ‘great’ father is something few will achieve. So I salute the ones who try and I empathize with the ones who fall along the way, Fatherhood is a journey that starts every morning and is travelled every single day.

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