Monday, July 27, 2015

The Retro Journals - My Mad Love of Mondays


Dear Diary,
Today I’m very happy. Well, not manic happy, but happy happy. It’s Monday and I’m going to see Beth again! Last week, we started talking about Eric and I told her what I was going to do to him. I told I was going to help him kill himself. Knowing Eric and how much he cherishes his reputation, the thought of people thinking he killed himself will be more unbearable than the thought of dying itself. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finally realises how he’s going to die. But enough about Eric, today’s not about Eric. 

Beth’s promised to bring me a book today and she said I didn’t have to talk about Eric if I didn’t want to. I was allowed out in the garden this morning, how awesome is that! I’m going to paint a picture of it. I’ll need my brushes. They’re in the attic, along with my easel. But the attic is at home and Amelia might have thrown them out along with her ballet shoes. The piano is still in the living room though. I don’t have sheet music for Beethoven’s 5th symphony but I can play the 8th instead for mama’s friends on Saturday evening. 

Beth is bringing me a book on gardening. I can’t wait to start my own flower garden! I shall have roses and orchids and chrysanthemums and lilies. Oh, it’s a recipe book not a gardening book. We’re making carrot cakes tomorrow for mama’s friends who are coming over on Sunday. Sorry, Saturday. Amelia is going to teach me how to make scones. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late and Eric will be upset. I hate upsetting Eric, I try not too ‘cos Eric has to be happy. I’ve lost my passport and we’ll miss our flight. Eric won’t get to see daddy and he’ll not make partner in the firm. But I like going on holiday in California. The beach house is so peaceful. I’ll have to take ballet lessons now that Amelia has stopped dancing but Amelia’s shoes won’t fit. 

I like my new room. I have a window and I can look into the garden all day if I wish. I’m going to tell Beth all about it. I’ll even ask her to come see it, maybe she and Amelia will get along fine because I aced my exams and was class valedictorian. Mama’s driving down and I’m going to give a speech and father will be so proud! Or maybe not, but Eric will be because he understands me like no one else does. I’ll serve them all tea in mama’s tiny china set with the red roses on the sides and Ron will bring us some brie from Somerset. 
Now I remember, the book is a God-book, not a recipe book. Beth’s bringing me a Bible today!

Saturday, July 25, 2015

The Retro Journals -Fear Itself

I think one of the things I fear the most, even above failing, is being useless. That’s why I get depressed if a day goes by, even a few hours, without my doing something. It terrifies me…just figured that out today.
020413 15:42



Monday, July 20, 2015

The Retro Journals - The Chickens in Ajah Have No Heads

Yes they don’t. Or wings or legs for that matter. All they have is fùrò!

So, we just got a spanking new caterer at work (I’m one of those lucky people who get a meal at work ;D ) and everyone, including me has been very excited about her. She’s nice and sweet, and we get loads of variety on the menu instead of the standard different shades of rice.

First day of a spanking new lunch adventure, she arrives with our food and staring right at me from the top of my delicious-looking pack of fried rice is this chicken’s backside. The first thing that came to mind was Bart from the Simpson’s and I could almost hear the chicken saying “In your face, girl!” I chalked that first incidence up to coincidence and maybe a bit of bad luck. Next day, I waited in anticipation for my meal, my mouth watering almost to the point of drooling. What do you think was siting on top of my rice and curry sauce? (even in the curry sauce, that fùrò still sought me out). And the funny thing is, each time, the chicken is always strategically placed such that the bum is always in my face, like the headless chicken is sticking out its tongue at me! After about four consecutive days, I got the brilliant idea to stealthily switch my food pack with one of the boys’ thinking maybe the lady just didn’t like my face and always deliberately gave me the chicken’s yansh. Yeah, you guessed right. That was the one time she decided to give me something other than fùrò, and the pack I stole? That fùrò adìye sure as hell found me!

You know, growing up, they used to tell us that if we ate the chicken’s bum, we would end up doing òfófó. Now, don’t ask me what that really meant because I had no idea then, I most definitely don’t have any idea now. I just know that the way my mother used to say it ehn, it always sounded like the most awful thing in the world that could happen to you. Having a very active and somewhat crazy imagination (even as a kid) didn’t do me any favors in this case because my mind cooked up the most outrageous and outright hilarious things. So, whatever it is my mother set out to achieve with that story, she more than succeeded because it put the fear of fùrò in all of us and we stayed away from it like it was the plague itself.

After about two weeks now, I have given up and resorted to requesting for beef with my meals because, call me a slacker if you must, or even Lasthma like one of my friends does, but I just feel like it would be very impolite to ask her why the fùrò always found its way to my plate. I can just imagine how that conversation would go:

Me: Errr, can I have a word please?
Caterer: (smiling her sunny smile) Yes, sure!
Me: Err, well…why is…err…you…ahem…I...you know...emmm...
Caterer: Are you okay? You sound like you’re choking!
Me: Yes I am, on fùrò!

The other day, I over heard her saying that she lives in Ajah and does her shopping from some market in Ajah and now I can’t get the picture of headless, armless chickens fluttering about in Ajah out of my head. Someone please remind me NEVER to move to Ajah!


Monday, July 13, 2015

The Retro Journals - Red Robot

Damn! I shoulda taken the contraceptive pills!!! 
I bet you’ve figured out my story, it’s not that difficult right? Picture me at 3 am, scrubbing away at my soaked mattress even as I feel a fresh flow of blood trickling down my legs…
Well, it all started a few weeks ago when I got a sudden outburst of pimples. Pimples everywhere, my face, neck, earlobes, back, chest, everywhere. Plus they were no ordinary pimples, they were big fat painful meanies! Mind you, I’m not 18 so I’m soooooo way past the puberty thing and believe me, I had my fair share back then.
This post-puberty thing had me flummoxed. I had no idea why or from where they had come! So I finally took a trip to the GP out of pain and embarrassment, I probably looked like pickled peas or something equally gross. The GP took one look at me and said the creams and ointments wouldn’t stand a chance, I was going on medication! Just great! Stupid tabs just because of pimples,  egbàmí! He went on to say that I had two options for the tabs. One was to go on antibiotics for 6 months (what?! 6 months  nítoríi pimples!  Àríì!!!), the other was to go on the pill. He then said that that had the added advantage that it would help regulate my periods and also help keep the flows moderate, yada, yada, yada. Errrr, contraceptives for pimples! Antibiotics for 6 months!! Na who I come vex so oh! I took one look at my pickled-pea face in the mirror and decided I was going to kick ass! So this silly girl picked the antibiotics ‘cos to her machine-knuckled brain, the antibiotics sounded more kick-ass than the contraceptives, I mean, whoever took the pill for pimples?!

Sigh. So here I was, three weeks later when the red robot came calling. As uninvited as it was, it brought its baggage with it, the worst MP ever! I guess we all know whose ass was getting kicked. Add to that, the fact that it seemed nothing our dearest Always has or will ever invent could handle the flow! I’d gone through all my pairs of jeans and was running low on dry knickers as well! I shoulda saved myself the trouble and just locked myself in the bathroom! Woke up from a fitful sleep at 3 am and the mattress was soaked through. So, as I vented my frustrations on the poor mattress, all I could think was Damn! Why didn’t you just take the pill?!