Fear of the Weekend

Since the economic meltdown, things have been a bit tight financially. And am not talking about individuals only, many Nations have suffered. Nigeria is without subsidy, America is owing China & even Brazil has stopped exporting Human Hair. "Times are hard!" seems to be the raining catch phrase. And even Uncles and Aunts u once loved visiting because of the occasional transport fare are no longer available. Everyone seems to be going to Abuja more often. I saw an Aunt of mine at an occasion once, called her 3mins after, and suddenly she's in Abuja?! But I wasn't upset, 'cause I know "Times are hard!".

I thank God though, for the dogmatic resilient nature of we Nigerians, we always seem to find a crack in the system, that Never say Die spirit has made us a force to be reckoned with in any economic circumstance. And it seems, the lower u are on the financial stability ladder, the more "adapt" u are to finding a crack in the system, a life-line, a little self-deviced method of making money. Even the crippled guy I ran into yesterday was tryna sell me a pack of handkerchiefs. He said "Bros I no dey beg u money, but abeg help me buy!" ...and I thought "Dude u just begged me!". Again I didnt get upset, cause the economy is bad and at least he's tryna make an honest living.

So down went the economy and up went the hustle.

AND THE HUSTLE AFFECTS EVERYONE...

As an entertainment person, I am part of the unemployed population, which means I am a contract staff of my clients. That is they need a service, I provide it, I get paid, everyone's happy. But since the subsidy has been removed, contract staffs like me suffer. Clients need a service, I provide, I dont get paid. It's either, the person in charge has gone to Abuja (...again) or Madam hasnt signed or Oga is yet to approve the invoice or the tropical storm has affected the bank or some other fairy tale. And this has become the norm. Do I quit? Never! I still push on, hustle the week out and look forward to the weekend where I can watch Arsenal or play Call of Duty on my playstation or go watch a movie with friends or dance azonto in Caliente, but not anymore. Why? Cause I am suffering from WEEKENDOPHOBIA!!!!!

Weekendophobia - Fear of the weekend.

I know what u're thinking, how did I come up with such a name right? Well, am a Gemini, it comes naturally. *dusts shoulder*

Those of u who arent so distracted by that word would be thinking "Why would anyone be afraid of the weekend?" well, I'd tell u...

U see, it's not all the time one gets a major hit whilst working as a contract staff, sometimes u get little hits that'll just help with ur fuel for the week or ur BIS if it's the end of the month or maybe a movie if u're craving a dark room and popcorn whilst snuggling with ur love interest, and then u'd save the rest or just hold it as vex money or incase-shit-happens money, but these days... *sigh* I cant do that u see, because EVERY WHERE I GO, u have all these security men, janitors (most annoying) and car park security men (they're the worst) asking u the same bloody question "Big Bros, anything for weekend?" or they say the most obviously psychotic one "Big Bros, na weekend we dey!" ... And am thinking to myself "...Wait! Did he just call me stupid??" Like I dont f*cking know that its weekend. WHAT THE... @#$%&?!!!

The order of most annoying are as thus: Security Men < Janitors < Car Park Security.

Security Men, I can all but tolerate cause I prolly just walk past n say "I dey come!", the Janitors... oooh the Janitors, bloody annoying. Cause they'll be hailing u whilst u're eff-ing taking a leak. I mean what the hell??? Can I pee in peace?? And then finally, the dreaded dementors, sent to earth to rid me of every last ounce of joy the weekend may have brought me, they drain the happiness I earned myself from some money making after a long hard week, they exhume the sensation I just received from watching Immortals in 3D, they are the Car Park Security. *lighting n thunder* They do this by following me to my car, standing around me, and even preventing me from shutting my door. ... *tears hair out* CAN I FREAKIN' LEAVE PLEASE???

These 3 categories of sadist have all but infected me with the Fear of the Weekend aka Weekendophobia.

*breathes fire*
*breathing heavily*

Pic of the day: Fire Breather by Mofe Duncan (Taken for Mardi Gras Collection for Club Caliente)

'Essence of Eve' or 'Essence of Steve'?

As a full grown man, standing at 6'4", with a waistline of 42" and a chest size of 52". Sleeve length is 38in, 2 inches longer than regular, and with a shoe size of 13.5 US, it's no surprise I like my woman to be full bodied. Average height is right up my street, but if she's 5'11" with a full bodied structure, I'd take it.

As I grew older, I found myself gravitating naturally towards full bodied women. No matter how fine she was, if I could see her collar bone, she was out. Those things just distract me. Now please, dont mis-quote me, aint nothing wrong with a slim damsel, just that, my spec, Id go for one with extra padding. And that's the basis of this particular post.

Growing up, as the last child, I was cuddled a lot and carried (well, also cause as a baby I was irresistible. *smug*) and that made me develop a certain likeness for softness. I could date a babe cause of her cheeks... (the thought alone makes me feel fuzzy), her soft arm or even her soft back, and that's exactly what I did. Nowadays, since women all over the world are going mad about being slim or having that perfect figure or getting into that perfect dress or being simply stunning in a wedding gown or having that extra 'umph' on a red carpet, they have proceeded to cutting their blood supply, restricting their air supply and making their aorta artery even narrower by wearing BODY MAGIC!!!!

[Images of various types of body magic scrolls for 10secs].

Yes, yes, most ladies would argue that 'Beauty is Pain', but why deprive use guys the luxury we once savored of hugging a babe at a gathering and feeling on her soft smooth lower back. And for a brief second, u imagine what it'll be like hugging her from behind or even pouring maple syrup down her spine. And after that thought has dissolved because u suddenly realize u're at a party and cant have ur manhood jump starting, u begin to bask in the euphoria of the ESSENCE OF EVE. But not anymore...

[Slow playing theme gotten from the soundtrack of Titanic stops abruptly]

These days, when I see a nice looking babe in a stunning dress, elegant like Gabrielle Union, graceful like Julia Roberts, and smelling like a bunch of daisies fresh from the yard, I begin to thank the Lord for making me a man, giving me the opportunity to experience the Essence of Eve for a brief moment as I hug her. But like I said, not anymore.

[Power goes out. Thick clouds block out the sun. Candles self ignite. Shadows dance across the walls and roof. Heavy evil laughter resonates from the beneath the ground.]

Since the discovery of Body Magic, more and more woman have forfeited their soft smooth lower back and waist line with a hard rough device they call Body Magic. They have decided to give up their Essence of Eve for that "perfect" body and make guys like me, who would rather feel the natural texture of a full bodied woman than the end product of 10 Chinese workers who earn $40 per month to make those damned Body Magic. They hinder me from taking what's rightfully mine, blocking me from my goal, restraining me from my added perks of coming to that party. Depriving me of the imaginations that make me accept my manhood. Preventing me from the shear euphoria of feeling her lower back and waist. The second I feel that hard God forsaken vest, I immediately regret hugging her and would rather have preferred imagining the maple syrup. It apparates me from that exact spot seconds before I hugged her to a place inside Fort Knox prison, surrounded by inmates high on their own jail muscles. It makes me lose the very core of my existence, that privilege bestowed on me by the Father in heaven to experience the raw Essence of Eve, and it replaces it with the vile experience of the ESSENCE OF STEVE.

[Sorrowful theme gotten from the soundtrack of the 8-2 defeat of Arsenal by the hands of Manchester United plays.]

Would I prefer a girl with a big tummy? Am sure that's what most of u are thinking. But I think the question is Would I still love my wife when she's 9months pregnant? Or more directly,


Would I prefer the ESSENCE OF EVE or the ESSENCE OF STEVE?

Pic of the day: Quakes & Arrows by Mofe Duncan. (Look at that lower back... 100% Essence of Eve)

Attack of The Goons

Okay before I continue to rant on for another 5mins, lemme u give a little slang lesson.

Goon (n) : A man or a young adult (male) who for some reason decides to venture into an unknown territory (i.e. one of obvious higher social class than his) and in an attempt to blend in, makes a complete mockery of himself. Examples: 
Men, just too many goons at liquid lounge yesterday. 
All these goons are just too many, we need some more girls in here.


 Now that's out of the way, down to business.

Without feeling superior to my fellow man, I'd like to say that I am getting continuously worried about the increasing number of goons that are sprouting out of no where. I mean, u can hardly go to a nice lounge without seeing at least 20. And am not even playing! And trust me, 20 is plenty. (Didn't mean to rhyme.)

I have been pretty quiet cause I've been having a couple of photoshoots and hence no time to blog, but am kinda thankful for the fact I had enough time to gather enough arsenal to campaign fully against the rising number of goons within the naija social standard. Now don't get me wrong, am not saying that I have never been a goon before oh! I mean, at some point during one's rise to the social peak, u must've experienced some degree of goon-ship, but u see, thank God for experience and exposure, at this stage in my life, I have developed a goon-radar, which alerts me when am about to be a goon. I also thank God for the opportunity to be involved in media, this also gives me the ability to goon-out (i.e. to change ones goon status within a 3min window). The act of gooning-out can be very complex, and if ill applied can revert one to a Zombie status.

Zombie (n) : A dead guy! Period.

Moving on...

So... during my busy schedule this past few days, I went for a friend's pool party. To take pics of course and have a few laughs and shit. Now on getting there, I learned that some other chic was also having a pool party, and my friends and I thought "Well, the more the merrier!". BAD MOVE! We soon discovered our firewall was breached, and we had no control over the influx of GOONS! (Dramatic, thriller soundtrack plays).

I spotted nothing less than 12 goons. Of the 12, 6 decided to swim, of which one had a swimming trunk (which slightly decreased his goon status but still kept him well within goon territory!) The others had... ... *long pause* ... *cringes as he replays images* ...had ...boxer shorts. The rest, ...I assume, ...u know, ...is history.

Now on a closing, cause I hate to take more than 5mins of ur time, I want u to picture this...
3 guys wearing cotton briefs, pretty much "see-thru" and another 2 wearing boxer shorts with the slit in front.

I AM STILL SCARRED BY THE IMAGES I SAW.

Have a goon free week!

Pic of the Day: Spot the Goon(s).