The Cold Begat Yuki.

I remember that day. I was lying on my bed, thinking. A voice in my head spoke to me.

 

‘Yuki!’

 

The voice was urgent, desperate sounding. I tried to ignore it but it grew louder, harsher, almost threatening to destroy my brain from the volume of it.

The coldness I felt inside me, the disarray of my heart, it was all explained by the one word that was said to me. YUKI.

Lost in thought, all the feelings I had tried desperately to conceal, to overcome, it all kept rushing up with full force. The anger, hurt and betrayal consumed me. I felt used and abandoned… I felt like a Yuki.

 

Yuki is the Japanese word for snow. One would think it symbolized purity, beauty, Cold, white. And yes, I did feel those things. I felt that the purity of my mind had been tainted with thoughts that even I deemed objectionable. All that was left was this cold feeling that threatened to consume everything I thought I knew. My moral compass was now muddled.

‘They are jealous, ignore them’

 

The voice said. I ignored them. I ignored the people that could possibly be of help to me. I shut out all that could lead me out of this dark, lonely place I found myself it. I was no longer in control. I let the name control me.

Then one day I was exhausted. I was tired of listening to the voice. I wanted out and I wanted peace. I tried to remember all that was good in the world, all that I loved. These memories seemed so far away and out of reach. I couldn’t access them no matter how I tried.

 

‘Look at your computer screen’

I did, and I saw it. The message from my friend that helped me lifts me out of the mess I wanted out of.despite all my negligence, he reached out to me. I’m still not sure how I did it, but I did it. I remembered the warmness my heart was capable of and all the cold melted off, slowly but surely.

 

But Yuki still remained; A better version of her perhaps. Scarred and vigilant while retaining all the optimism, spontaneity and beauty she originally had.

The voice was quiet, but the name I wore proudly like a scarlet letter.

The King of a Thousand Laughs

On may 13th, i had one of the funnest nights ever this year. It was all thanks to the basket mouth show and after party in Houston. plenty drinks, laughs and wonderful people to go around. Heres a snippet of my experience.

Royal Wedding, Naija Style.

By ‘Yomi Kazeem.

Disclaimer: the article you are about to read was written by Yomi Kazeem, a mind extraordinare. He debuts the guest writer category where I will be randomly featuring the best writers I know. Enjoy. Cheers

The following took place in the mind of a young Nigerian between 10:00pm and 11:00pm.

It was a colorful affair. Not British colorful, I mean Nigerian colorful. Yes, that colorful. When they coined that phrase ‘Eko for Show’, they were obviously not kidding! According to the organizers of the event, this was Royal Wedding 2.0 and they set out to make it so. Kate got to the venue of the event in grand style, highlighting from a BRT bus, she looked smashing! The sisters under the bridge at Ikeja had done their magic with Kate’s hair, giving her, a very Royal lace Brazilian wig! Arriving, in the more modest Keke Napep.

Prince William wasn’t left out, the boys at Next handled him and when they were done with his head, that bald patch was a thing of the past.

According to custom, royal weddings must take place at an edifice of world renowned popularity and so, we delivered. The wedding was held at our own architectural masterpiece capable of sitting the entire mo gbo mo ya Peoples Association in Lagos- The National Theatre, Iganmu. Ingenious isn’t it?

Standing on the stage, looking around the auditorium was a nostalgic moment, it was an enthralling show of the wonders our iyas from Isale-Eko can do with Aso- Ebi, it almost brought tears to the eyes. The Queen’s ‘side’ wore purple damask, the expensive kind, Prince Charles and his homeboys were looking great in their white Guinea and red fila. The Middletons were decked in lace, the kind that has rocks littered all over it. The rest of the party had to make do with ankara. Not discrimination, just that ‘levels pass levels’.

After a while the National Stadium began to creak under the weight of the people in attendance, these mo gbo mo ya people were trooping out from all corners of town, so the party was transferred to Redeemed Camp, according to the organizers, even if 100 billion people show up, Holy Ghost fire was sufficient for them all.

This was certainly a spectacular wedding, not a dull moment! Not with Salawa Abeni rocking the stage. She wasn’t alone, she had the likes of Ebenezer Obey, King Sunny Ade, KWAM 1, Banky W and co in attendance, a nice mix of old and young, we certainly showed them that it wasn’t only Britain that had talent. The only notable absentee was Kokomaster D’banj, organizers feared the ladies of the royal family would be smitten by Mr. Endowed thus giving the world a headache of how to deal with unroyal babies, 9 months from now.

The presiding minister Pastor Okotie (not to worry, organizers provided guests with dictionaries) handled the solemnization of vows, he emphasized that “the sacrosanctity of the unification of the two anatomies in an imperially majestic manner, ought not be defiled by things considered unholy, as the institution of marriage had a distinct unique albeit deep seated, thinly veiled repugnance and abhorrence towards infidelity”. He pronounced them man and wife and conferred on them the royal title of Baale and Yeye of Iyana-Abule. Just as they were about to kiss, the predictable happened, NEPA took light!

The royal family, fearing a terrorist attack, was quickly surrounded by the MI-5 and security operatives of Interpol. Nigerians on the other hand, familiar with NEPA and their incapability, simply held on to their prized possession until electricity was installed, Thank God for Tiger generators!

The Master of Ceremony was a person of power, the organizers in a bid to ensure the success of this wedding engaged the one and only, the indomitable, the inimitable Dame Patience. Not one to be shy, irrespective of any oral impediments, took to the stage like a seasoned performer, she handled the event which so much grace and poise entertaining the royal family, her fellow widows, with her repertoire of grammatical jokes.

She told stories of how she encouraged people to press their hands on the umblerra, she also told them to enjoy themselves and not be afraid due to stories of the spate bomb blasts across the nation; she said the Federal Government had approved 200 billion dollars for the say-cu-rity of the event. She went further to tell Her Majesty to pray for the people killing shildren turning them to widows, she reiterated that she was convinced that these bad eggs would turn a new leaf, after all, were they not born of a women?

The event was winding down gradually, royal and unroyal people alike were rocking the tunes of high life- Osondi Owendi, it had all gone according to plan, the food was of the most delicious kind, Prince Harry particularly took to Semo and Ogbono, his agbada was full of stains of long lines of ogbono, but trust our people, they promptly soaked it in ‘bleach’, within minutes it was like brand new again.

The organizers kept saying they had a surprise, everyone wondered what it was, but they refused to divulge their secret, we had forgotten about the surprise until we heard a royal shriek; we all looked in the direction of the scream, and what we saw was beyond our wildest imaginations… Princess Diana had arrived.

A Thrifter’s Haven!

Hiya!

So the other day, I wound up in the uptown area of metropolitan Houston and decided to check out this store I heard so much about. It’s called BUFFALO EXCHANGE.

Buffalo exchange is a thrift store that specializes in the sale of designer items. Designers ranging from Versace to Ralph Lauren to Marc Jacobs could be found at their various locations. You could say it was a very pleasant experience and the people were hospitable.

Now here is the summery of what I purchase that day:

A pair of genie/harem pants $29

A blazer $12

A pair of shimmery powder pink shoes $14.50

A juicy couture clutch $25

A fedora $9

A lacy white top $7.50

Guessing Game

Hiya!

So… I wanted to do something different like an audience participation blog. I want you all to try to guess what is going through my mind as I make all these faces. Write your answers in the comment box and number the according to the order in which the pictures are arranged. Start from the first and assess each picture to the right of the previous one. When the row is done, move on to the next row and do the same.

Good luck. Lol

 

Final Lap

The heat from the sun slowly bakes Lupe’s skin as she jogs in a quick pace through the path. Lupe notices that she is finally left alone on the trail which once held many participants. Initially, she had gotten lost in the middle of the trail, and she couldn’t find her way back. She was running in circles and one by one, all the other contestants passed her. They rendered as much help as they could, but it did little to show her the way. Now she was left alone to face the obstacles ahead.

“I need to get through this on my own”, she thought.

Sweat dripping down her back, Lupe longed for something to relieve her thirst. She took each step with confidence that eventually, she will reach the end and this ordeal will be over. Lupe stopped to gasp some air and take in her surroundings. She looked ahead and saw what she thought was a thin white line in the far distance.

“It may be the finish line”, she said. “It’s almost over!”

slowly but determined, Lupe walked closer and closer toward the faint line, even though she knew it might not be the finish line. She had calculated that the finish line would have been crossed and the line broken. This did not stop her from edging onward toward the uncertain end.

From Rags to Destruction

She was the neighbourhood whore whose services were exclusive to only those who could afford it. She didn’t choose this career path, she stumbled on it. It started off with the imam of the mosque opposite her shop and soon word of her prowess spread. One would have thought the imam would be more discreet about his indiscretions but whatever it was that he said made her clientele grow at an exponential rate. She went on to open her first bank account, one of many to come.

Hers was a face to behold and a body that beckoned to be fed on. On her chest were twin sky-high grapes, her lips were thick and pink, her buttocks, well-rounded and big enough to be cupped by two massive hands, and the whole of her plump, beautiful body stood on two sturdy legs.

For all her beauty though, her son, Chike was autistic. A condition he inherited from his father’s side of the family as his paternal grandfather was too. Chike was a good boy who deserved the best she could afford and there-in lay the justification she claimed for her actions. Her determination and trade paid-off as Chike had the best in everything even treatment and he often stood out amongst his classmates.

Every evening, by 7pm, right at the peak of sales, she packed up her belongings and headed home. To receive the chairman of the taxi park, Simon, with a phony smile and a loosely tied wrapper around her naked chest. While Chike was doing his assignments one of such evenings, he heard weird noises and screams coming from the room, he also heard the bed in the one room apartment house creaking violently naturally, he ran in to check on his mom only to see her bent like a dog on all fours and Simon kneeling behind her, both of them naked. He did not understand and watched them till they noticed him. Without a word, she walked towards the door in her naked glory and locked it in Chike’s face. She changed around him all the time so her nakedness did not bother him, it was Simon that troubled him. His eyes were slit over and his head thrown back, he looked like a crazy man and Chike feared for his mother.

Just before her son left for school the following morning, she warned him not to come in whenever a man was in her room anymore. She told him they were praying when he saw them the previous day and that it was a special kind he’d understand when he grew up. She also told him not to tell anyone. He made a mental note to ask his Sunday school teacher about this prayer. At noon as promised Simon had carpenters replace the only bed in the house with a larger one and their neighbour’s husband, Musiliu, entered to help set it up. After set-up, the bed stood defiantly, the new workspace. She looked at Musiliu to thank him and with what she saw, knew trouble loomed.

Suddenly she didn’t remember where the coke bottle that had been lying around all week was. He pleaded with her at first, she jokingly declined. He cornered her between the wardrobe and himself and pressed his manhood forcefully against her, she struggled and slipped out. She scanned the space and found the bottle, she banged his head a few times with it and when he collapsed, she dashed into the parlour to catch her breath. Ten minutes passed and no sign of him. She tiptoed back into the room and saw him still lying on the floor. She was no fool so she stood at the bedroom entrance and gently nudged him.No response. He didn’t answer when she called his name so she laid her head against his heart. it wasn’t drumming. It was as still as an unmoving stone. That could only mean one thing. She released a gut-wrenching scream.

Chike’s mother had just killed a man.

Crossing The Thin Line

He lay on top of her and breathed into her mouth. No movement. He kissed her face, her lips, her heart, her ribs. No response. He willed her to live, that failed so he pleaded. He begged. He kissed her feet.

He read her her favorite book and played her her best movie. He replayed her favourite scene, the one where Edward and Bella kissed or was it Damon and Elena, he couldn’t remember the characters’ names. Her eyes still shut tightly in defiance.

He begged and kicked and screamed, he made a fuss; she always responded when he did that but no not this time, today she was busy sleeping. And so he sat against her unmoving frame sobbing, he would in a few minutes weep.

The room was deathly quiet; death’s grip was firm. It was eerie, a dead woman, a delusional man. He looked about the room and bellowed out laughing, it was funny, wasn’t it? He, power in human form, begging an 18 year old not to leave him. He, who broke the spines of kings with just a look, weeping. Who wouldn’t laugh at such a scenario?

He made her some cereal and forced it between her lips then he carried her to bath her in the rusty aluminium tub. Thoroughly her hair was shampooed and her puic area was given special attention, her legs were shaved and her back was scrubbed as she lay as still as the morning. He dressed her carefully in the custom Chanel dress he had made for her but had never given to her and laid her carefully on the bed. He then settled on a nearby chair and dozed off with a smile, ‘she would respond he thought’, she was all he had left and he would never let her leave him. He would repeat everything he did today tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after the day after, and the day af…

The Most Unlikely Love

The chilly breeze swept through Betsy again as she sat there on the grass lost in thought. “Ugh! This weather is horrible for a parade!” she said out loud. A few people in the crowd looked her way in agreement. Betsy was relieved to know she wasn’t perceived as pessimistic and she was finally beginning to feel accepted. Betsy felt so different in this big city because the fast pace felt different to her. The aroma of fresh hot coffee wafted towards her and grabbed her attention. She got up and walked to the coffee stand at the edge of the street, desperate to feel the warmness of the coffee slide down her throat. her thoughts kept drifting away to the reason she, a Houston native, was in New York on this cold December day and not in the lovely spring like weather she had grown to love.

Earlier that year, Betsy was dumped by her dick head boyfriend of three years. Their relationship was not of the kind one would call rocky or stale, more like lack luster. She didn’t love him and he didn’t love her, but the sexual chemistry they had was amazing (needless to say, they weren’t having any sex). The chemistry in the relationship lay dormant and often dictated where they were headed. It all began at a get together at Betsy’s close friend’s place. There, she met dashingly handsome Carlton who more than swept her off her feet. Carlton was your conventional ‘hottie’. He was tall, dark and handsome, with wits to match. His smile kept Betsy trapped in his aura even though she could not particularly relate with him. They chatted for a bit and after a few drinks, ended up in an empty room in the back of the house. Their discussions continued and the need to take their interaction to another level was so thick, it almost became tangible. He brushed back her hair and his touch electrified her skin. They kissed and touched and did all kinds of things that blew both their minds. Their orgasms did not need actual sex to be archived. After about an hour of foreplay, a knock came from the other side of the door and they were forced to stop.

A tap on Betsy’s shoulder jerks her back to reality. When she realizes who had interrupted her train of thought, she smiled with pure happiness. Stan, the man that was standing in front of her, was like a dream come true to Betsy. After Carlton had dumped her because he ‘fell in love’ with her best friend! Betsy was devastated, not necessarily because she loved him, but because she had lost hope in ever connecting with any man, enough to care about how he affected her. Betsy found a connection with Stan that she has never felt with Carlton or anyone for that matter. The thing is, Betsy was still in a relationship with Carlton, mainly because she was scared to be alone. Carlton was a student at Rice University in Houston, while Betsy attended university of Houston. Carlton was an over achiever that was preoccupied with school work and his fraternity. Betsy cared about school because of her scholarship but she also was a care free spirit who wanted to explore life beyond what she knew. Their worlds and priorities were different, but she clung to him because of the fear of being alone.

Stan smiled down at Betsy and asked “what is going on in that big brain of yours?” “Nothing…. Everything” Betsy replied. He held her in his arms and just for that moment, all was right in their world. Their love story was a more unconventional kind. Two months after her breakup with Carlton, while Betsy was browsing her facebook page, she receive a facebook message which said

“Hi there!

My name is Stan and I was looking through your profile. You have a great smile. I just like leaving a complement.  And if you ever found yourself bored enough, you can reply.”

Betsy laughed to herself. “What a random message” she thought. Stan’s profile had no picture or much to go by, So Betsy had no particular interest in pursuing a friendship with him. She added him on facebook out of good will and moved on with her browsing. The next day, as she was checking her facebook account again, she decided to reply the message she got from Stan.

“Hiya!

I’m bored. Entertain me.”

Not long after….

“Entertain? Sure, I can do that. But you would have to come to this chat room I am in. I will gladly entertain you there.”

Betsy clicked on the link to the website and was introduced to the world of chatting. She had heard of chatting online, but she had only used messengers for that until now. Betsy had the chance to interact more with Stan and as weeks went by, the exchanged more personal information with each other. The sent sms messages often to each other and their connection became stronger. It was an infusion of  sexual tension mix with romance and the excitement of the unknown. They decided to officially become a couple, and they shared more intimate moments with each other. Through all of this, Betsy had never met Stan, or heard his voice, or seen his face. He knew who she was because she would often send him pictures and leave him voice messages. Although Betsy was frustrated with this situation, she was in love with him. He seemed smarter than her and very witty. He also had this hold over her that she could not explain. Betsy had fallen in love with a ‘ghost’ as her friend would call him.

Stan was five years older than Betsy. From what she could tell, he was not an introvert, but not exactly a forthcoming person. He lived in long island, New York and worked as an advertising agent in Manhattan. These were the things he told Betsy, and she chose to believe him.  Theirs was a love one would call timeless, but from the outside looking in, it seemed naïve. They fought and made up on a regular basis because of mistrust and all sorts of paranoia induced reasons. Eventually, they planned to meet up in New York for the holidays. 3 days before Christmas, Betsy arrived at the New York airport to meet with Stan who was supposed to be waiting for her. Apparently, Stan had the wrong information about Betsy’s flight, so he didn’t show up. This disheartened Betsy. She set out into the city to find Stan’s home.

As Betsy stepped out into the big city, she first had to deal with a retinue of hostile cab drivers. She managed to find one who was willing to help her out. She was headed to long island, but she wasn’t exactly sure where on the long stretch of island. It could be a two minute journey, or one that lasted 2 hours. After hours of searching, frustrations kicked in and Betsy settled on a hotel nearby. Meanwhile, Stan had arrived at the airport about an hour ago, waiting for Betsy. When she comfortably settled in the hotel, she tries to work up some courage to call Stan and tell her about her predicament (all the while trying to sound all emotional and disappointed that Stan couldn’t wait and didn’t call). She dialed the numbers. The phone rang… and rang… and rang…. She was about to give up when she heard a male voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Stan said. Betsy was overjoyed. This was the first time she was hearing his voice. Betsy scolded him and he apologized. She gave him her location and he left the airport in search of her. About an hour later, a knock came on the door, and Betsy stood up to answer it.  The man on the other side of the door was tall, not particularly handsome, of a slim build and his name was Stan.

Stan and Betsy walked back to their spot in the crowd to watch the parade. The beautiful floats passed by and the members of the parade entertained the crowd, but all Betsy could care about was this love she could feel down to her bones. Every time Stan touched her, her heart would race. When he smiled at her, she would be filled with happiness. “Me and him against the world” she thought. Even though she had recently found out that Carlton was getting married to her ex best friend, she was not angry, because they were happy and she deserved the same. She felt no bitterness or malice. She was just…happy.

Vintage on a Budget…. Old is the new ‘New’

Hiya!

Ok, so I’m sure all the fashion buffs have noticed a new trend going around. That easy to wear vintage style that everyone is doing these days. Just like karma, fashion trends keep coming back into style. wedges, boot cut jeans, leggings, readers, strong shoulder dresses and jackets, have all managed to make their way back into our fashion vocabulary. Who can blame them really? They look pretty good if I do say so myself. So I’m going to teach you how to get that vintage look without spending all those hundreds of dollars the fashionistas spend. VINTAGE ON A BUDGET! I’m sure you like the sound of that.

1. YOUR MOTHERS CLOSET IS UR FAVORITE STORE. Look in your mother’s closet to find items which could be useful to you. Keep your eye out for blazers, jewelry, lace, jean jackets, old shoes and bags est. u can easily restore these items to suit current fashion trends.
2. DON’T BE SCARED OF A LITTLE DIY PROJECT. They sound tiring at first, but are quite fulfilling when they are completed. Dying your clothes, destroying jeans, bleaching your jeans, embellishing your jackets. These add a uniqueness and sophistication to the old clothes and look great for any budget.    
3. SO WHAT YOU SHOP AT SALVATION ARMY? DONT FEEL GUILTY! You can find incredible things from other people’s ’trash’. Try to shop at thrift stores. You spend way less and get way more. Look for items that can easily be transformed to suit your project or items which are ready to wear.
4. ACCESSORIES GALORE! Accessorizing your outfits also give it that desired ‘hmph’ needed. Accessories make anything look amazing.

So get cracking girls…. your fashion experience awaits you  Kisses!