ARMED POLICE ROBBERS

I was attacked by armed robbers at that Gbagada U-turn bridge…few metres after the Mobil filling station on Saturday (June 4) at about 10:30pm.  It was surreal because of two reasons. First, I had escaped an attempt twice at that same spot and I had mentioned to my friend, who was behind the wheels, to be careful as we approached the bridge. As he drove up the bridge, I spotted a Jeep parked at the centre of the bridge and two cars drove slowly behind us. The Jeep with registration number AAA856CN began to reverse (awkwardly) and I had a lucky guess. I opened the door to run down the bush path by the side of the bridge but had not turn back. Maybe stupidity but I could not leave my guy behind.  Four men fully armed descended on us, shoved us in the back seat, and one of them drove our car. They kept ranting threats…”Kill! Money!! Now!!! Those sorts of things.  The Lexus jeep drove behind my car and we began a tour of Lagos Mainland. Anyway, we were robbed- phones stolen and the armed robbers drove to the new GTbank at Ilupeju, along Ikorodu Road to withdraw the funds in my account.  One of them  walked into the ATM to empty the account boldly. Their next destination was Surulere, driving aimlessly (I thought) because they had no idea what to do with us after they stole all we had and the fuel level was low.  They spotted an unlucky chic driving a white jeep alone on the bridge heading to Jibowu. By the way, they drove pass police checkpoints several times without being stopped #justSaying. Back to the chic in a white jeep, my car was used to obstruct hers and their Jeep parked behind her to box her in. The four guys in my car ran out and the same scenario I witnessed about two hours ago played out with the girl as the victim (Yes! We were with them for almost two hours…long story and dispense errors). They abandoned my friend and I in the car and zoomed off with their new victim. The guy that I supposed was their leader threw my key out of the window as they drove off. That was about 12:20am

I had this nasty headache as my head was hit earlier with the butt of a gun as I drove home…it was a state of disbelief. The next morning, I decided to report to the police station at Ifako and spotted a UBA debit card where one of the armed robbers sat- SAHEED BOLAJI 5199 1101 ****1419. I assumed it must be for one of them. On my way to the station, I felt this was an easy case for the police to crack. I had the registration number of the car that obstructed me in the first place; one of the robbers used the ATM which must have taken his picture, and now a debit card which might belong to any of them. One of these three variables would be a lead… I thought

(Not)surprising the officers that attended to me at Ifako police station made me feel like I wasted my time to report the case. First, I was talked to as if it was my fault. Imagine this stupid question, “Why do you walk around with your ATM card, don’t you know that you are setting yourself up?”  At that moment I had no tolerance for BS and my friend was in that same boat. As a Nigerian, I replied the question with another question. “The value of any debit card is the amount in the account which might not be up to N30,000 but most people’s phones  are more expensive than their bank balance, does that mean they should leave their phones at home?” My intention was to pen my statement and move ahead. The officer behind the counter opened his mouth and demand N5,000 to file the case. He posed a threat that if the owner of the debit card reports it stolen before I file my report that I might be in serious trouble. I will have to explain how it got to my possession and it will appear I reported the case because I had to exonerate myself (that kin BS). I had to remind him the reason I was there and that my account was emptied. I had to ask, “do you expect me to steal N5,000?” He reduced the amount to N2,000 as if it was a favour. They were damn serious to receive this amount until a mutual friend at the station paid.

The next day, I called the Inspector and he responded that there was nothing he could do because investigation will take time and money, and if I had both I should come to the station. His attempt was to convince me with his countenance that that was the end of the case and I should count my loss and thank God I was alive. I am grateful to be alive but the point these criminals have to be stopped because their activities have become rampant with careless regard. I was born and breed in Gbagada and it can reoccur and involve someone that I know.

 I mean, investigation is not hard (is it) if there is effort. For instance, it is possible the vehicle used to rob me was stolen but at least identify the owner. All the police had to do was log in on FRSC website (http://www.nvisng.org/NumberPlateVerification.aspx) to determine the owner. At least, from the platform available to the public the feedback was “Number Plate is valid and assigned to N/A Lexus Rx 330” On their platform you get the owner’s information and this is less than a minute (even if your network is as slow as …) Next was to approach GTbank for ATM CCTV footage, the last withdrawal was at 12:01am June 5^th and we can obtain the robber’s image. The inspector’s response to this suggestion was “So what should I do with the picture because I don’t recognise him or do you recognise him?” In this day and age of social media, someone will recognise him. The UBA debit card left in my car was also pushed aside, “since they don’t know the owner”.

It sucks really, because this will keep happening and we are place in a position to rather inform our relatives and friends to be careful rather than the police. By the way, I feel for whosoever buys my stolen phone Samsung phone. Stealing phones nowadays is similar to stealing GPS, you will get caught.

DORO MEGA SUPER STAR O!

 

Remembering what I should be doing instead of the financial institution I slave...

 

 

 

When Your Penis Takes the Wrong Turn

I learn a lot from the opposite sex. They seem to know a lot about sex and everything sexually related. I remember when a guy bragged about going multiple rounds, "I can f*ck for 6 rounds," he said. It was me, him, and a chic having a discussion. The chic said authoritatively, "it's not the number of rounds that mattered but the number of thrusts. How many times the guy could go in/out in succession without an orgasm". It sounded like the obvious but prior when she said it I never thought of it that way.


I also learnt of an unfortunate occurrence that only affected males [or females with penis], from a female. It was called Penile Fracture.
After a match at Stamford Bridge with a chic [obviously], we were having our post-match conference while dressing up and somehow the topic was her boyfriend. Not ex-boyfriend but current one [but that's not the gist]. I was cool she had a boyfriend and she knew I wasn't interested in breaking them up [although she's against me using the term 'friend with benefit'].


Back to what I learnt, she told me her boyfriend had a surgery to correct penile fracture. I thought she was trying to break my balls, I mean, forget it's called a 'boner' the dick had no bone.


According to her, the boyfriend had this weird habit he did with his erect penis. You know how you could press/pull on your finger till you heard a pop! sound, well, the boyfriend use to do that to his dick anytime it was erect. Yep, cracking his dick. He did that one early morning and on a particular day, his penis shifted to the left while he was in great pain. I could imagine. His penis maintained an odd yoga-like shape. He had to be rushed to the hospital. I heard that and a scene from the movie 'Something About Mary' popped into my head. Where Ben Stiller's character zipped up his trousers so fast and part of his balls for stuck.


I was still in doubt so I went to the oracle of knowledge, Google. I also checked wikipedia where it was described as "an injury caused by the rupture of the tunica albuginea, which envelops the corpus cavernosum penis. It is most often caused by a blunt trauma to an erect penis...The 'reverse cow-girl position' is notorious in the aetiological cause of penis fracture".
I also read on the site a legal case where a guy took his ex girlfriend to court for bodily harm after suffering penile fracture during intercourse.


I was surprised the sh!t existed, i thought i had seen it all watching 'house'. she continued with what happened in the hospital. For obvious reasons the doctor/nurses felt she must have contributed to it. Like she had suggested a kamsutra-Cirque du Soleil type position till he broke his dick. But I didn't feel for her being accused, it was the boyfriend I felt for. You see, what binds men is our penis. As a man you might not feel anything for your fellow man losing his wife/job/sense...but if anything happened to his balls/penis we feel for him immediately. I mean, another man balls get kicked and we go "Awwww" before he does.
The surgery involved making an incision close to the shaft of the penis...and veins...damn! too bloody... then the penis was bandaged. Every morning he woke up with any erection, every morning he was in pain. He got on his feet to walk it off. The fear of his family was his penis not to be decommissioned after the operation but his chic tested it OK. I trust her on that matter.


From now on, I pledge not to get involved in any sexual position that I can't see the chic's face. Except that position that the...
End.

The Engineer

The Admin. Manager told me the GM needed a file and I had to find it. It was a personal file of a staff that had worked in the company years ago. To get it, I had to check a storage room I had no idea existed. It was way too dusty, stuffy and hot but I had to find it...yea, those where the kind of things I did for ₦15,000 a month as a corps member. While flipping through tons of files I came across a "closed file". I had seen enough closed volumes of files but those were for events, companies, and departments, this was the first closed volume about an individual. From the title written before the name, he was an Engineer. Out of curiosity I went through the file.

For those not familiar with filing, documents were arranged chronologically, with the oldest one at the bottom. So flipping through a file took you back in time. In this Engineer's file, the first document was a letter of appreciation from the Engineer's wife, thanking the company for paying her son's school fees. The next was a document with a minute on it from the GM to the Chief Accountant to pay the school fees of the Engineer's son. Next, was a document that showed cost incurred during the burial ceremony of the Engineer, also, the amount management approved as support to the Engineer's wife. On that document I also saw the cost of transporting the body into Nigeria. From that I obviously knew the Engineer did not die here in Nigeria I kept on flipping through what would have been dark times for the family. He died of something that had to do with the heart. In the file were also pictures of the Engineer, topless, in the mortuary with cotton buds in his nose. I could see people standing around him as if you needed more than a pair of eyes to confirm he was dead.

My eyes were fixed on the half naked pictures of the Engineer. Different emotions were pouring flowing in as I saw the inevitable. I understood why someone once told me a dead man had no shame. The next documents detailed his growth in rank within the company. As I flipped through the documents, I read how he became a Head of Department, to an assistant...down to an IT Manager. How his salary "reduced" from 6 digits to 5. I read his appointment letter followed by the last document, his CV, which summarized all his achievement in 2 pages.

I noticed from this experience how one's life could be summarised in numbers. I know in people's hearts: his family and friends, he was probably more, and adjectives would be used to qualify his life. But to others his life were quantifiable in numbers. You see an obituary in the papers and below the person's picture was the name. Below that was usually numbers, date of birth to the date of date. You could also see the list of certificates and awards but our interest was how many he was able to achieve. Same with the documents I saw in the Engineer's file. Most of what I could remember after my glance were numbers. Salaries, allowances, cost of this, that, and those. It was as if it was easier for us to come to terms with the numbers in the person's life than the type of life they lived and the legacy left behind. Or maybe most of us do not leave behind something worth writing about and only deserved prayers. “May His/Her Soul Rest In Peace”.   

Child's Play

I came across a post months ago, about how words changed in meanings and context as we grow. I remember a line that went like "when I was young, Pussy meant cat, but now...". The post suggested that these new meanings had replaced the previous one (like the one given above). What I've noticed was that the previous meaning still remain (at least to kids).
There were times Kids play or say things that made we react. I would feel like interrupting them because I interpreted what they were doing as sexually explicit + corrupt. You know kids usually play "daddy and mummy", well, there is this boy in my area that loves that. Now the problem I see was he prefered playing it with boys, "daddy and em...daddy", even his peers felt uncomfortable playing such role. He looks so innocent and to him he wasn't doing anything wrong. But I've grown to know guys like Elton John and George Michael and the way I interpreted his actions was that he was displaying gay tendencies. I don't have anything against homosexuals but I believe if there was anyway to prevent a child going down that lane then it should be done.
Another aspect I feel uncomfortable with was with the way most 3 to 5 years old dress nowadays. Maybe it had to do with my area but you see these girls wearing short skirts. I told a 5 years old once to learn to dress decent. But her face was blank as if she had no idea of the words coming out from my mouth. Truth is to them they were wearing clothes but to me if a 20 years old should wear that then she had to be in a club or a beach. You don't wear such just to buy biscuits. I feel it was more than the way they dress, I am uncomfortable with kids getting into pop culture. I heard a girl sing once, she had a very beautiful voice but I was totally not cool with the choice of song (T-Pain, "5 o'clock)..."It's 5 o' clock in the morning/ Conversation got boring/ You said you'd go into bed soon/ So I snuck off to your bedroom..." Why should a 5 year-old sing such? Anyway....#sigh
I won't deny I learn from these kids though...like how to beg with puppy dog eyes. And sometimes I want to help 'em out. Like one day I was in a bus, beside me was a woman with her kid on her lap. This kid was trying to get fed by bringing out the breast from the bra. All his techniques made me laugh, putting his hands here and there, they were so amateur. I was tempted to teach him my technique where he would have both boobs in his palms. Then I had to face reality...this kid was trying to get fed not arouse.
What I believe is as we grow we lose touch with our childhood and innocence. Child's play, thought, and speech becomes misinterpreted by us. For example, they watch a violent movie and see "red water" coming out from an individual but we see blood and believe they see it as blood. We conclude that would make them become violent but those were our thoughts.
But I envy them, I envy them because they see the world in their eyes and right and wrong is based on what makes them happy. The world had no meaning yet living was everything.

Sterlin' Bank...the One Customer [Only] Bank

I'm not a Bank person, probably because I believe the institution had the worst customer care (that is debatable once we consider MTN/Airtel/Glo/Etisalat). The first/last (and hopefully ONLY) time I was in WEMA Bank I had so much to say/write that a staff had to comment on my blog post. This time, someone requested I help deposit N1,000 into the daughter's account with Sterling Bank...the one customer bank. It was my first time of stepping into a branch. I have to mention, by the time I stepped out I was convinced they took their slogan "one customer bank" literally.
Location: Awolowo way, Ikeja.
As I stepped into the premises I noticed it had just a door into the building #ONE DOOR. I was also the only person about to get in and maybe that was the bank's idea- one customer at a time. It was weird because the banks I was familiar with experienced high influx of customers during the last opening hour of the day. The time was 10 minutes to 4 o'clock and I was the only one present. I stepped in and noticed the staff behind the counter were poorly dressed. Maybe because it was a Friday but Guarantee Trust Bank (GTB) staff dressed all days of the week as if they were going to a party. I got a deposit slip to fill and stayed on the queue which had only me on it #ONE CUSTOMER ON THE QUEUE. The guy and babe behind the counter were attending to customers #ONE GUY AND ONE BABE BEHIND THE COUNTER, I had to stand and just...look round. The bank looked like a waste of space. Spacious and not buzzing with activities. My thought had the idea of renting the space by the corner to make/sell my roasted plantain a.k.a Boli. I'll also sell recharge/call cards (everyone sells recharge/call cards). Like a minute later the floor manager (I think) began to shout "One Customer! One customer!" #SHOUT ONE CUSTOMER. The staff behind the counter began to hurry up. I was confused, probably it was a code to run or something. I took a step back and began to think of where to run if I see the staff leave the counter. The lady was the first to be through and called me to come forward. I later learnt from a staff they say/scream/shout "One customer!" when they wanted...sh!t, I've forgotten. The staff told me it had nothing to do with me.
I didn't write this to diss Sterling Bank, just don't understand why they decided to literally build a bank around a slogan. I mean, on the 19th of January 2012 their share price was N0.98 which was just two kobo less than #ONE NAIRA.

Any Means to Meet an End...

As much as I believe LOVE (if it existed) was an essential ingredient in a relationship, I believe you need a lot more to raise a family. Actually, a lot more of one thing- MONEY. Because by the time you have the take the cost of the economic needs members of you family needed you might be frustrated realising you didn't have the income to afford it. This goal to satisfy such needs make parents think of different (outrageous) means. This experience I'm about to share begun December 2011 before the increase of petrol pump price on the first of January 2012.
Most couples find it financially difficult to raise their family not to mention being a single parent. It was all the stress of a couple in a single parent (not fair). A single parent realised the financial status was in a red light district (fucked up) and needed funds. It was December, a holiday period, where you find yourself spending on what you probably didn't budget for. To make the matter worse, the kids had to resume the session in their private university January. That meant school fees and other allowances. The parent decided on cash in on a shady deal. The deal was one that would surely backfire and the kids were against it. They voiced their opinion but the parent made the point that it was for their benefit...listing all the bills to take care of. The kids were not swayed and kept the parent in check from getting involved. This continued into 2012 when the subsidy removal on petrol pump price led to price of commodities skyrocket. During the stay at home strike/protest period the parent took a walk in a morning and didn't return. That night the kids became worried and decided to call the phone number only for an unknown voice to be on the other end of the line. The voice said the parent had been kidnapped and the kids should watch the news as the parent would be paraded. Then the line went dead. Panic erupted as the kids sensed their parent was in danger. Texts began to bombard the phone as the kids pleaded. Hours later a call came through. It was their parent...
What went down was the parent wanted to stage a kidnap and hoped the kids would be able to talk friends and relatives into contributing for a ransom. That was another shady way the parent cooked up to get money. The conscience, however, took over the parent and couldn't continue with the plan especially after reading the text messages the kids sent.
What I learnt from this experience was that we get so engrossed with satisfying a need that we forget why or for whom in the fisrt place. The need becomes an obsession that we end up hurting those who were the ones that were to protect. Any means to meet an end might be the end.

Fat Detected...Please Step Back

By the way, this is the first post I would be typing/uploading from a computer.

WARNING: If you are a plus size individual or you are sensitive to issues of plus size individuals PLEASE (na so I beg you) you can stop reading from this point ----> .

One thing about me is that I am attracted to sweet scent...I love it. That's why I've got different types of air freshers in my Stamford Bridge. I woke up one afternoon and realised I was out of air freshners. Like they all planned it. I decided to go to one "Shoprite" in my area to get refills. After several stopovers gisting with friends I got there around 8: 25pm which was close to their closing time (8:30pm). A fat woman was ahead of me so I had to wait for her to enter. The doors were those locally made revolving one with metal frames and no glass.

Her first attempt to enter was a failed one...she got stuck and had to come back out. Her second attempt was also a failed one. The security officer begin to give her techniques, if felt like when you attempt to enter a bank and the doors won't open because you had a metal object on you. Then the security officer begins to ask you questions about what you had in your possession and you begin to get yourself "naked" just to find that metal. This woman was in a similar condition and I needed her to get her fat ass in because I needed to get my air freshers. She kept changing styles and tucking her tummy but all attempts failed. A queue began to form inside the building of shoppers that wanted to exit. In the end she gave up. By the time I wanted to get in with my small frame I was stopped by the security officer and told me it was pass their closing time. I checked the time on my watch it was 8:35pm. 

I had to go home like that. The woman just wasted my time.

It's My Party & I'll Write If I Want To

The year I was born the world was Living on a Prayer...so it was only right a blessing conceived as me be born in the last month of the year. What a great way to end the year.
Incase you don't know me, call me Ade and today marks the date I was born. This is my party and I'll write if I want to. The last 365 days had been one of great discovery of who I am/should be...and the people around me. I found love in a hopeless place, lived there for a while and packed up my bags...I'll be gone till November. I also found out the true meaning of persona...how deceptive people could be with the mask they wear to cover their faces/intentions. Biggest lesson I learnt was you can't please ANYBODY. Do the best [the person deserves from you] and move ahead.
December last year wasn't special...I can't remember much except wandering around on Christmas day for Christmas food...hunger was nothing compared to what the new year had in store. [Any] continued her silent treatment in the new year...refusing to pick calls and all that sh!t ONLY for her to send a text one day about how it was all my fault...trying to make up or whatever. It would have meant something to me, probably I would have sensed her sincerity if her hair wasn't all messed up and it wasn't few days to her birthday. Yea, maybe I was jumping into a conclusion but she was that selfish. She did the same thing before going for service [that NYSC crap], this time the pretext was "borrow"...the money wasn't much, probably 3 to 4 thousand...BAD DEBT. The last time she "borrowed" and I reminded her to repay, she cried. I'm ready to do some Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind ish to delete her from my life but I need one thing from her. One jackass synced my ipod [of over ten thousand songs] on a system with only 2 songs...left me with those two songs. And they were even the same songs copied twice. [Any] has a back-up of my songs on her laptop and I've been trying to get them since July. This is December right? Still on it. Things have changed for her...I realised she has a boyfriend and I wish her good...and by "good" I mean the boyfriend fucks her good.
I had school mates/peers that got married, maybe that's a sign I should be thinking about doing that. It was easier/faster to f@*k girls nowadays with marriage format BUT I aint going to deceive myself. One of 'em fucks her lover when her husband goes to work. Blames herself for getting married early. It started with I can test your microphone but I can't allow you sex me cause that would be cheating...Let's just say I don't have any special regard for marriage nowadays, weddings were mere dress rehearsal of a decision you've made before that date. And it changes nothing...the girls would only change their husbands name to "my husband" for the first few years.
I saw a girl I once regarded as "the most intelligent female I know" after [more or less] a year. She said if she had seen me in January she would have shot me. Fact is sh!t happened...back in school [final year] some pussies attempted some Gossip Girl sh!t, dissing people on Facebook. There were two usernames used, one was the name of the course adviser while the other had a cool name [I must admit] Parrot King. And the girl happened to be one of those attacked...for obvious reasons I had to be suspected for being at least one of 'em because I was that guy you could expect anything from. Fact is I don't do any sh!t I can't take credit for and didn't trash the girl. She obviously believed I was the guy. Now I'm in a position where I can say who was responsible and I aint saying sh!t...thanks for pointing fingers at me BUT if you insist, the last name was YOU while the first name was FUCK.
In the last 365 days I found out my worst enemy is a relative...I know a lot of haters would be disappointed I aint giving them this award [better luck hating next year]. Fact is I pride myself as one of the easiest person to relate with but some people are not just cool with that. I can't even count the number of times I've heard "I'll crack your skull" for practically doing nothing. This hater would find fault in anything, even when I said "I'm not talking to you"...I guess that's life, even if you aint looking for trouble, trouble would look for you. From that experience I learnt a new definition of what family meant. If home is where the heart is...family are those that live in your home, your heart. Looking at it from that perspective you'll realise friends were more family to us than blood.
I realised my personal life is messed up and I don't love anyone...I suffer from lack of "object permanence" when attempting to build a relationship- out of sight was definitely out of mind. For the first time I consciously attempted to build a relationship & make it work BUT I don't trust these bitches, I, I, I don't trust these bitches. You know, Trust Issues.
I was hoping to be [at least] a millionaire [in $] by this year...I'm guessing it didn't come because I had revenge on my mind. Maybe because I wanted to f@*k some people up sooooooo bad they would need 9 months of anti-hating care to be delivered. Now I just don't give a f@*k about those peeps....I must have been so hard to watch, what a year for you niggas.
I wished I had beautiful tales to tell about these last 365 days...I had my laughs no doubt but the lows were there...some lows were lower than others and that created a false perception of an high. The next 365 days I have no idea of what to expect but if I'm alive to write then it's all good.
Happy Birthday to me...now I'll go ahead and delete those comments on my Facebook wall...those "HB LLNP Dearie/Honey/Baby/Sweetheart", "Where the party at?"....you know, all those unoriginal, creativity deprived birthday wishes.

Sack Letter...Original Collected By Me

There were times I wished my posts were Super Story and not experiences that involved people's lives. Those were the ones that didn't make me smile...the ones that evoke emotions that all I could say was, "Well, such is life."
•••••••••••
Anyway....some us of grew up believing we had special powers. As kids, our minds...imagination, had no limit. I believed I had the special ability of premonition...that sensation absent of any stimulus of something unpleasant was about to go down [the details would be for another post].
I was on my way home from work and had this sensation the building where I worked would be on fire. For some reasons [unknown] I believed it. But the thing about premonition was that there was little to nothing you could do to change it from happening. I got to work the next day and saw the unusual appearance of police-men in the compound. My thoughts went wild, did someone attempt to burn the building...you know, stuffs like that. Stepping in, the only thing unusual was the dull mood...it clouded the atmosphere. Minutes later I realised massive retrenchment was taking place. It was then I realised what the premonition of "fire" in my building meant. It definitely set people's hearts ablaze and no one had an idea who would stay and who would go. The GM locked himself in the board room alone and refused to see anyone. If anyone attempt such...well, police-men were on duty for the day.
The first staff that got his letter was a man I admired. He loved his work, he was so passionate about it that he gave me a speech about it once. The importance of placing love of work over money. He walked into the Admin department with pending documents and told the admin officer that he should contact him whenever his replacement needed assistance. He was the first I saw sign on the acknowledge copy of his sack letter, "Original copy collected by me on Friday, 9th of December 2011." It felt like cementing the date in your heart and literally using one's hands to accept rejection.
The next set of people that got their letters made up a department. From the HOD to the secretaries, they all got the boot. The HOD wasn't around to personally receive her letter. The other person that didn't turn up switched off his phone [as if that would change any thing]. Things became quiet for a while to the point we thought the dust had settled then the GM summoned the admin manager and demanded more people were to leave. One of the staffs that had been sympathising with the ones that got their letters earlier had to be one of the ones consoled this time. At this point the tension increased. For the first time I saw some of the staffs use the toilet...the rate of toilet use was so high that for the first time the floors were dirty. As in, they had to release the tension. People that never used the office toilet to piss used it that day to sh!t.
The fact that no one saw it coming [that's my opinion] put people in the position to rationalise and I began to hear gists of happenings I had no idea was going down. Like 2 months ago a staff decided to retire...just like that. It was unexpected [that was my own opinion]. I heard [no be talk am] the reason a staff was given the letter was because he used to have sex with her. Both of them had their respective spouse, kids...everything to constitute a family but that didn't stop them from having extra-marital affairs. The "couple" were caught serveral times and the woman decided to retire, hoping her action would prevent the termination of their appointments and continuation of their sex romp. Her husband found out and pleaded with the management to get rid of the guy...and now, he had his sack letter.
There weren't the only ones involved in office romance that got letters. I had no idea one was married with kids until that day...damn! She was endowed and the guy that was fucking her? I couldn't blame him. I wrote about this guy once on "How To Annoy Your Boss". He was the one reading how to online. I can't believe I didn't think of that "sleep with a co-worker that your Boss [might] admire". Guess he finally got what wanted.
One lady got a letter and she had to be the biggest shock [to me], luckily, hers was one of promotion to fill up a managerial position. I was happy for her.
I learnt so many things on that day, and one of them was a fact of life- expect the unexpected. As I saw some of the [ex] staffs clear their tables [ASAP] I noticed none had planned on doing so anytime soon [if at all]. Their workplace had been their second home. Take for instance a receptionist that sold top-up/recharge care/credit card [depending on your country]. She had debtors in the office and virtually all her debtors were given the boot including herself. She was on her way out when then phone on her rang and for a moment she paused...then walked out. Virtually all of them said "this is they key to MY office/desk/car" as they signed out.
As for me...I had to see ALL their faces as I recorded the company's *ID cards and other possession they dropped.

Beggar With A Swag

Those of you that live/work in Ikeja, close to Computer Villiage, might have seen this...this sophisticated Beggar [not even sure I should call him a beggar]. This dude is the Lasgidi version of the Naked Cowboy in New York. The dude is blind [at least that was his claim to beg] and wears coloured fashionable suits like the one in the picture. Unlike some low class Lagos beggars, he has a stool to sit, just in case he needs to rest his legs after a long day's work. The height of the stool makes it difficult to look down on/at him because he maintains close to the same height with when he was on his feet. He also has a stick to support his hand as he leaves his palm wide open for people to drop alms. This beggar with a swag doesn't have to pray for you. Sometimes he was busy gisting with his friends, like that guy shining a shoe behind him. That guy polish his shoes too. There was another guy in-charge of his pedicure but he was busy working elsewhere during this photo shoot.

I'm not trying to jack this guy's swagz but why on earth do people give him money. Obviously he isn't a millionaire [then again, maybe he was] but this guy looked comfortable. The best dressed Nigerian have got nothing on him. Did I mention I saw him with a phone once, he wasn't PINGING though. That might be because his hardworking friends, like the one polishing didn't have money to buy a Blackberry so he had no one to add to his BBM.

WEMA Bank...Big, Strong, Re...oh! That's Union Bank

So few minutes ago I was in Wema Bank, I don't bank with them but had to deposit some amount into someone's account. I already had the perception the staff were old and slow and guess what...what?...I wasn't totally proved wrong. They were slow alright but not that old. By the way, I'm referring to the branch at Ikeja close to "under bridge". I stepped in and the first thing I noticed was the floor was littered with sweet wrappers. It looked like a playground. Apparently the bank left sweets in a bowl on the counter as part of "customer service" but forgot about waste bins to dispose the wrappers. So, trust dirty Nigerians...impatient to get rid of wastes.

I'm a kind of person that is happy when I'm in the presence of beautiful people. And by that I meant people that wear the most beautiful outfit called a SMILE. These guys were too damn moody plus they had two pregnant staffs who made sure the environment was gloomy. One "good" thing I noticed was the equality amongst the staffs...It was difficult to distinguish a cashier from a cleaner especially the females. Their hair was unkempt and EVERYONE [except one] used a rubber band as a hair ribbon. Wema bank operates what they call regional banking so they don't exist in the Northern & Eastern Nigeria...only here in the west. I'm guessing that was the criteria for recruiting because Yoruba was the language of communication. Everything about the bank felt wrong...I have this feeling it extended to their customers.

A lot of them were impatient...like they had to save the world. Even Jack Bauer had 24 hours to save the world but a minute to these guys was like a year. One woman had an issue with accessing her account. She was asked to provide any form of identification which she gave. The customer care representative asked her name and she said, "Iya Toyin". She said she needed her full name + surname. She said Iya Toyin Adebanjo. The rep was confused...she confirmed her surname as Adebanjo. The name she gave didn't match the one with the account so the rep asked if she opened the account before she got married and she replied, "Yes". She requested for her maiden name but the customer had no idea what "maiden name" meant. So she explained that would be the name she was called before she got married. She replied, "Bisi". By the way the customer care rep was pregnant and didn't find it a bit funny. She told her to tell her her father's name and guess what she said...Baba Bisi. The rep got tired of the guessing game and told her the name on the account and made it clear the name didn't match the one on her identification card. She responded by saying the surname on the account was that of her first husband and the rep never asked the name she used to open the account, true. The man beside me kept dissing the bank on their incompetence...by the time he got to the cashier he was told he didn't write the account name on the withdrawal slip. He blamed the bank slip's design for not noticing that. In the end he was asked, "Are you expecting money in this account?" Meaning "Guy...you no get bar for your account". The guy stammered a bit and was directed to the floor manager.

As much as I might have dissed Wema bank that wasn't my intention. Just unfortunate my first experience in a branch outside the University of Lagos was...but damn, the bank sucks.

Police is [Not] Your Friend

I once told a guy we don't waste our time convincing anyone of the obvious, it won't even cross our mind. If you see a mother talking to two of her kids and tells one of them "make sure you clean your room" while the other received a smile. That was a giveaway that the one she smiled at had no problem with getting the room cleaned up. This is why I don't believe in the unofficial slogan of the Nigeria Police, "Police is your friend". As in, if it were true and Nigerians had no issue with the police there would be no need in trying to convince the public. A lot of them are corrupt because they are broke and exploit the position of power they were in. I'm sure every Nigerian would have their tale of how a policeman messed up their day [or life].

Now imagine my shock/surprise this morning as I boarded a bus and by my side was a policeman with a book on his laps. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't surprised that a policeman could actually read BUT the book was titled "Human Rights" by Israel John. I used to think policemen didn't know jack about human rights...I mean, the word didn't exist to them. I kept staring until he became uncomfortable and put the book in a bag. In my mind I was thinking this was a new dawn in the Nigeria Police...reading about human rights.

On my way home this night I noticed a crowd gathered with everyone shouting. Initially I thought someone passed away but as I got closer a friend told me a policeman came to arrest a guy in my area. He pointed at a car surrounded by a mob where the policeman sat in front with his gun in hand. The guy that was arrested occupied the back seat, in the middle of two other men. He added that it was a friend of the guy arrested that invited the policeman to settle a "dispute". The "dispute" was the most stupid I've heard. A friend arresting a friend for sleeping with his girlfriend. Initially the friend was ashamed to say it when the crowd demanded to know the crime his friend committed. He kept on saying it had nothing to do with money until he lost his cool and blurted what went down. Apparently the girl had been sleeping with his friend for the past 3 days. If he had even been there earlier he would have met his girlfriend "ridin' dirty". Before the guy got in the car he slapped the policeman because he took it as a joke. That angered people more, if the police were called during a robbery they would have taken their time like a diva preparing to go on a red carpet evert. Now they showed up armed to arrest a guy for enjoying himself. The girl also resides in my area....she was one of those girls that put smiles into the faces of lonely men. The chic was definitely not one to take home to your mama, friends...in short, take serious in a relationship. As the drama was taking place, the girl who was at home kept calling the guy by my side if the policeman had left. She was staying with her Uncle and didn't want the drama to be brought to his door step.
I can't even believe a policeman came armed and prepared just to arrest a man for sleeping with a girl. This so contracted what I so that morning. But...it's alright, Nigeria we hail thee.

Mr. & Mrs.

Being a married couple is more of a girl's dream than a guy. Fairy tales including the Walt Disney classics suggest from the wedding day, the couple lives happily every after. In reality, that was far from the truth and most people have come to accept that. I see couples in my neighbourhood with smiles and their beautiful kids being so carefree and I say to myself, "this couple must be really really happy". I saw a couple one morning, the husband was holding the hands of his two daughters as he walked them to school, while the wife was few steps behind with their school bags. If I didn't know better I would have thought all was well, that that was a happy family.

Months earlier, I had seen the husband returning from work in his car. I can't say what the time was but I'm guessing it was probably two hours to midnight. Barely 10 minutes had passed from the time the guy parked in his compound when I saw him running out with only his boxers on and his wife chasing after him. This wasn't a late night jogging exercise, his wife was determined to beat the hell out of her husband as she rained curses during the chase. The street was empty so the guy had to run until he saw people come to his rescue. It took great verbal and physical persuasion to calm the wife. Apparently the husband had been a punching bag all this while. That was when this Mr. & Mrs. actions made more sense, he had taken the "role" of the wife. I remember one time he was driving home, and as his car approached his house which was one away from mine he began to slow down. His hands weren't on the steering wheel but his phone. As he drove pass I noticed he was deleting messages and call logs. Probably he had something to hide but with a wife that could beat the sh!t out of the husband, it was best to hide everything.

There are some Mr. and Mrs. that you don't need to know what goes on behind closed doors to know they weren't meant to be together. It felt as if the girl couldn't wait for Prince Charming to save her so she settled for one of her captors. I knew this Mr. before the Mrs. came along and I didn't like him. He was one of those who was no doubt accomplished in the business world but his personal life sucked because he sucked personally. He got tired of the girl and wanted her to leave but he knew that won't be as easy feat. Getting married was as easy as saying "I do" but dissolving the union wasn't as easy as saying "I don't" or "I'm tired of you" OR "Move ahead!". She was one of those Mrs. that had nothing outside their matrimonial home to fall back on. So whatever bullshit the Mr. threw at her she was ready to swallow it. During her pregnancy he deprived her of so many things in an attempt to frustrate her to move in with her mum for that period but she didn't take a step. When the Mrs. delivered, while others bought gifts, he bought a new lock...the girl's mum came to their home to stay for a while but he kicked her out. He wanted it to be the other way round where the girl would stay with her mum. He intended to change the lock during that period but this Mrs. sensed it and didn't move an inch. The only way she would leave her matrimonial home was if he killed her.

One other Mr. & Mrs. lasted 2 years in my area along with their marriage. The Mrs. was from a wealthy/influential family, even her dad was a commissioner while the Mr was...let's just say he had a family. That wasn't the only contrast, the Mrs was also on the fat side which would make people question why the Mr got married to her. It was either he had a taste for big women or the money. The wife got pregnant and travelled to America leaving the husband alone in the house. This Mr didn't hesistate to take full advantage of being home alone. He was so promiscuous that by the time his wife was to arrive after delivery, his mother went door-to-door to plead with neighbours not to allow the Mrs know of her son's behaviour. The cracks in the marriage finally led to the failure when she found out. The Mrs moved out of their home when she couldn't stand seeing the guy and the Mr decided to also move his things out. Their home remained empty for weeks. During that period, I walked in and saw what was left of the marriage. Both Mr & Mrs had taken with them what they brought into the home and left behind what they both shared. In their scattered bedroom was a typed note on the floor with other pile of papers. It was writted by the wife to the husband. The title was "20 Things I Would Do To Make You Happy". It was a list of things the wife wanted to achieve to satisfy the husband and included things like losing weight and always respecting him. It showed the Mrs was determined to make the marriage work but I have to admit, I might not know if she fulfilled the remaining items on the list but I do know she didn't succeed in shedding the weight.

What A Wonderful Lie

One of the biggest lies would have to be "I don't lie". If every misinterpretation of fact is a lie [which I believe that is what a lie is] then we are all liars since we do that all the time. I have met liars...and I've believed some and obviously doubted a whole lot. But the fact is, [and I ain't gonna lie] lying is fun if you are getting away with it.

I had this friend who was in a gathering of university graduates. It was supposed to be an intellectual one so they began by stating the discipline they studied and institution attended. The first mentioned something like Business & Logistics at University of Michigan, the second person mentioned a university in the UK. The last person to talk was my friend....he noticed everyone had their university degree outside Africa not to mention Nigeria where he studied. He graduated from the University of Maiduguri with a degree in Electrical Engineering. If they thought they could intimidate him, he had something in store. Without flinching he said, "I studied Aircraft and Missile Propulsion at the University of Kabul, Afghanistan." Those guys believed him and to me...that was a wonderful lie. The look they gave him signified respect as he bamboozled with using terms like "applied
compressible flow and thermodynamics" to describe what it was about. I have no doubt they were thinking not only did he have a degree in a "complicated discipline" but in Afghanistan. Those guys must have good lecturers to take subjects related to that because...you know...they love bombs and stuffs like that. Also he must be fricking intelligent. One fact was if they didn't place any prestige in the discipline they studied and where they got it from, they wouldn't have been....Wow!ed.

Most guys lie to get attention from girls...I don't need to do that except I realised the girl's stupidity was less than a typical girl's average I allow her spin for a while. I was with one early this year and after five minutes I was bored with what was coming out from her mouth. It was one of those egocentric statements about how different and unique she was from other girls. I interrupted her...I told her I was leaving Lagos soon for Abuja and that I was the head of the political campaign team of the president representing the youth. Her eyes lit up...I just sat there relaxed. There were so many things I can fake comfortably but intelligence? I don't need to. I kept talking sweet political nonsense and ending statements with "...but I wouldn't want to bore you with that". Like every good magic trick, I needed to Wow! Her. I remembered I had a text message on my phone, it was one of those sent by the president's campaign organisation. Instead of a phone number as the sender it was a name, and it was the president's name. I showed her the text and the next thing that happened....[Is rated 18 SNL]. It was a damn wonderful lie.

People shouldn't be allowed to be stupid to believe such lies but they just do. And if you find anyone believing a ridiculous lie, play along for a while, let their head spin.

The Boy With The Fake Ass English Accent

It isn't a shocking news we have Nigerians that travel out of the country return with a "brand new English accent". It could be for a 3 week vacation or 4 years study course, regardless the duration they were away, they still return with an accent. They have an accent regardless of the country they visited [even if the English language was not spoken in that country they still returned with one]. A cousin spent barely 2 years in South Africa and returned with Cockney English. In case you don't know what that sounds like, if you or anyone were to fake a British accent it was most likely to be Cockney. Even Nigerians in England based in Liverpool tend to have the cockney accent instead of the Scouse accent. The way I interpret this is the desire to fool oneself in a bid to impress.

I met a secondary school classmate few months back. I hadn't seen him since our secondary school days...he was huge now and had a Beats earphone round his neck. He had girls giggling round him as they chatted while he spoke with a Cockney accent. The guy spent his childhood and most of his teenage years in Nigeria and I knew having a cockney accent had to be faked. I felt it was because of the girls he was faking it 'coz they seemed to be buying it. And I know girls are attracted to fake things- wigs, make-up, plastic surgery....a faked cockney accent should definitely fit in. By the time the girls left and I was alone with the guy and another old friend I bumped into earlier, I expected him to stop faking any foreign accent. But guy! This guy no stop. He continued to chew his tongue like he wanted us to know he hadn't been in the country since I last saw him. The guy told us he obtained his university degree in the UK [like we bothered to ask] and was in the country for the National Youth Service Corps programme which had been difficult for him to get a job placement. It would sound strange to those who had the belief that foreign trained Nigerian graduates were the top of the pecking other for Job placement. But after I heard the guy talk I knew Nigeria was moving forward by not being moved by bullshit.

The guy was initially posted to a secondary school to teach. He had a brief conversation with the Principal and his teaching career ended before it started. According to him, the principal asked if he schooled at all in Nigeria and he responded only his university years wasn't spent in Nigeria. The principal rejected him and told him it was because the students would not understand his accent. I felt the principal was convinced he didn't spend enough years in the UK to have an accent. She probably saw fakeness all over him. What he said next further made me stick to my belief he knew the accent was indeed an issue. "I won't change how I speak because of anyone, I've been in the UK and I can't come back to Nigeria and lower my standards." Etsheeeew....oshi! The same guy was rejected the second place he was posted to. The admin manager thought he was born and breed in the UK and felt he wouldn't complete the service programme. That he was most likely to find Nigeria unbearable and travel back to the UK. All these assumptions were made from a fake Cockney accent.

The typical Nigerian I know would lie he could speak Mandarin to get a job...this guy was deceiving himself he can't drop that fake cockney accent to get a job. I figured out his parents were still taking care of his ass, if not, this guy would not only switch back to his Nigerian accent but also speak pigin English join.

The Headmistress Granddaughter

Everyone with a typical/normal childhood grew up with playmates that consisted of both gender. They played "unisex" games, being totally oblivious to the fact that they were being comfortable and carefree with the opposite sex. Sadly for some, that would be the only time they would trust/play/be comfortable with the opposite sex [probably for years to come]. That was one of the beauty of childhood, the ignorance that brought with it bliss. One of those girls I used to play with was the headmistress granddaughter.

She was...something. I remember we were close and I got into trouble a few times because of her. I remember one time in Primary two we were all asked to get on our feet in class, she decided to lie flat, face up, in the chairs. I took one look at her and told a guy "Sleep on..." This guy RAN to report me to the teacher. Shame on him, I wasn't punished but I would be surprised if he grew up to be a 40 year-old virgin. I also remember one other time someone took/stole a book from the library, Thomas The Tank Engine, and wanted her to return it or something [my memory is kinda sketchy on that one]. I was done Primary school a year early and moved on to secondary school. A year later she enrolled into the same school but I was a year ahead. For the next 5 years we spent in the same institution we never said a word to each other. I can't explain what happened but all we did was stare at each other for 5 years. The distance was clearly visible.

Years later, after secondary school, I decided to check-up on her on facebook, I figured out from her wall, info, and photos I should be able to have a good idea of what she had been up to. I searched but couldn't find her, I wasn't surprised because I was aware of girls misspelling their names to make it cool. I decided to search for people I felt she might know to find her...luckily I found her, she was using her middle name which I didn't know and I wasn't 100% sure I got the right person.

I decided to send a message which I have copied below with the replies...

Me: Hi, are you [...]?

Me: There's no need for a reply, found out already.

Her: who da hell is this?

Me: Fuck shit. Read the name B...*ok that was going too far so I censor myself*

Her: ur sis! Get a life dude! Shuu!

Me: Sorry. Didn't mean to...really, just didn't feel your approach. Been looking for you actually for like...six months and...anyway forget it.

Her: its okay, no hard feelings darl. Sorry I was rude didnt min 2 b. Ur msg was jst kinda funny. Is this tunde adeshina 4rm primary skool?

Me: Yep

[The reply she sent did not load completely before I responded. I read...]

Her: hi dear wats good? Now wat did u
find out? Let me guess, hmm!dat i hv a beautiful...

Me: Na! It's the job of your boyfriend to do the lying...but u look good. I guess it was just about time. Just by going thru your profile I believe I know enough...so I'm not asking any questions. Uniben...Law...ok, wait...do u by any chance know any [...]

[That was when I saw the previous message she sent in its entirety]

Her: hi dear wats good? Now wat did you find out? Let me guess, hmm!dat i hv a beautiful daughter dat is gonna b 5 this yr? Or dat i tuk my life bk 4rm doz bloodsucking demons clld da [mentioned the family name] nd hv been on my own 4 almost 7yrs? Dats nt news luv, its gist. Nyways ciao.

Me: Ok your mail caught me off guard...

Her: wats re u saying? Tunde!(whispering
now) do u smoke dope? Bcos msg b as e get oh! Ko ma ye mi oh!

Me: First of all my phone for some unknown reason did not load ur entire message before I replied...den I saw the rest. If what you said is true about you then you have quite an interesting
life. Still shit happens, I know how people could be...you could imagine d
stories I've heard. And I don't smoke dope, I have no doubt my body
would neutralise the effect...I am the epitome of 'Not Giving a Fuck'

Her: good 4 u den! Pls giv 2 shits abt your life at life at least bcos as u rightly said shit happenz. Tkre of u ciao!

Me: Damn! You have issues...take care
of yourself too. Goodbye.

The "goodbye" I said wasn't just to end the conversation but terminate any acquaintance because the vibe I was getting from her wasn't what I needed. And I definitely wasn't prepared to carry another person's cross. I figured out she might have gotten pregnant in secondary school and saw the pictures of her daughter on facebook. She was a single undergraduate mum. I respect her hustle as she tried to get educated and fulfilling the dream of becoming a lawyer. I know she is dating a guy but the issue with girls in that position wasn't finding a boyfriend but a boyfriend that would stay.
And for an unknown reason I doubt this is the last I'll write about the headmistress daughter.

Juju For Beginners

While my counterparts in the Western world grew up listening to fairy tales, I grew up with Juju tales. Stories of how stubborn/greedy children lived forever ever after as a yam tuber. There were no princesses, castles, or price charming. We only had witches and wizards. So I learnt collecting stuffs from strangers had grave consequences and it was best to avoid them.

Still as kids we sought way we could use juju to our benefit. The earliest I could remember was in primary school when someone fart. The "owner" didn't want to claim the mess,...someone must have suggested we find the person using juju. We got a leaf and placed sand on it. The idea was to pass it round by placing it on each other's palm. The person blows it with the mouth and if it was the person that fart, the sand blows towards the person's eyes. To be honest, the result was always inconclusive but we didn't care...we always had a way to interpret how it worked.

In secondary school, there was "the concoction". It was a cream that made students "invulnerable" to a teacher's whip. It must have been the belief that made the pain bearable because at some point I totally believed in it. Whenever a student was about to be flogged she/he would run, not from the whip...but to apply the concoction.

Years later, people around me were not involved in juju to know who fart or become invulnerable to a teacher's whip. The wanted money, women, they wanted success. Juju was used as a catalyst to get these things. To be honest I don't know anyone that I can without a doubt say used juju to achieve such things but there are stories...and there are bound to be element of truth in such.

The closest experience I had was when a family friend brought a "juju man" to my house. He was like a decade older and told me about a get-rich-quick scheme and wanted me to get a huge percentage of the "capital" which I didn't have. I was 14 then, so it was understandable. After gentle persuasion failed, he decided to use a juju man to coerce me. The juju man supposedly brainwashed me after reciting incarnation and instructed me to walk into my house and bring out anything with monetary value. As I stepped into my house I was amazed, I thought to myself, was I not suppose to be unaware of what I was told to do until I had done it. I told the people in the living room what had transpired outside and they were confused. I sat and after watching tv for few minutes I walked back out to tell them I couldn't find anything with value in the house. That was actually the last time I was disturbed about the scheme. That was no doubt a reinforcement to my trust no one belief.

No Excuse Toilet

I regard one of the greatest inventions as the toilet seat...so beautifully crafted to accommodate any ass and take any sh!t. In every house the toilet was a real decider if you were going to visit of sleep over. Yes we call it sh!t yet for hygiene sake we still consider where we drop it.

So...I was at a friend's place with few friends. It was a new house and well decorated. We were having fun -drinks and small chops, then, I decided to piss. He directed me to where the guest's rest room was and I saw one of the most beautiful toilets. It was so beautiful I raised the seat cover and decided to sh!t instead. One thing I noticed was it had no cistern [the water tank usually attached to flush] I didn't put it to thought. I assumed there would be a button somewhere. I sat there feeling good with myself until it was time to say goodbye to the wonderful experience.

I got cleaned up and was about to flush when it occurred to me...there really wasn't any cistern. I began to look for a lever or something to pull or push. I saw nothing. It became frustrating after 5 minutes and I couldn't leave the sh!t lying there. I finally got tired especially when there was a knock on the door. I decided to push down the seat cover and to my surprise, as soon as it made contact with the seat and it was completely covered, it flushed. I began to laugh at myself. The toilet's flush system was automatic and released water each time it was opened and closed. I fell in love with that toilet more...it was perfect for those people that found it difficult to flush. I'll call it the No Excuse Toilet.

Poor Romantic Guy

In one of my earlier posts I related creativity with being romantic. A romantic girl/guy was a creative one. Creative in the choice of words with actions and when/how to express it. It is can't be learnt, you had to be born with it. Books might tell you giving flowers to a girl was romantic but not all girls would find that romantic. Anyway, I want to write about two life experiences about guys that attempted to be romantic by being creative, those experiences inspired me to write this piece.

There was a late night show on radio. The kind of show where the host's playlist was made up of classic blues and timeless beautiful serenades that would definitely make you think of a loved one (if you had any) while you hugged your pillow. As usual listeners would call in, make a shout out to a loved one and probably a request. A guy called in, he told the host how wonderful the show was...blah blah blah, and shared a problem. He said he had a girlfriend and they had a fight recently. She had decided to stop picking the guy's calls and never returned his. He requested the host call the girl on his behalf and apologise. The host obliged, got her number and called her on air. After few rings she picked up. He introduced himself and she said she knew who he was. He followed that with a question, "Someone requested I call you. He is someone that loves you very much and said you love him too. He also said you guys' relationship had been on for a while. Guess who the person was?" The girl laughed, that showed she was touched and mentioned the name. The sad part was she didn't mention the name of the guy that called in, it was another guy's name she said. The host stuttered for a while and informed her she was wrong and mentioned the name of the guy. The girl didn't take it lightly, she began to diss the guy that requested the host call her. She painted the guy a stalker that couldn't come to terms she wasn't interested in him. Till the last song played, subsequent callers had to sympathise with the guy. His saving grace was it was on the radio he shamed himself.

The second experience was a guy that decided to throw a surprise party for his girlfriend. He invited her friends and his to celebrate with her. He got a nice hotel for the venue and made sure he got everything she loved. The girl arrived and she was overtly excited. Everyone smiled, even on the faces of girls with envy in their eyes. An hour later the guy signalled the dj to cut the music and held the microphone to make a speech. He called the birthday girl to the centre of the venue for all to see. He confessed his undying love for her and went on a knee to propose. The girl responded, "I can't marry you, it is not as if I didn't tell you before we began dating. I told you then so what made you feel I have changed my mind? A party won't make me change my mind to consider getting married to you." Everyone felt the guy's pain as she strolled out of the party. That was how the party and relationship ended.