Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Chelsea for life!!!

SHE :- Gooooaaaaal!!!!!!
HE :- Honey, the ball is at the back of the net.
SHE :- Oh. I really thought Messi would have scored that one.
HE :- Sweetie, that was Rooney.
SHE :- But you told me yesterday that it was Messi.
HE :- Babe, that was another team and game.
SHE :- Oh, ok. So Rooney and Messi are teammates?
HE :- *sigh*

If you see ten naija men, eight will probably be diehard football fans. Naija men love their football. Sorry, let me rephrase that. Naija men are crazy about football. For my ‘Hamrican’ readers, we’re talking about soccer. I’ve seen many of them cry, laugh, make friends, make enemies, get drunk and even get beaten up for that game. That game that FIFA is yet to pay them for. That game!!!

Ladies, for years now, have complained and whined about this insane addiction that their men have. “You love this stupid game more than you love me.” She would cry.

Wanting to surprise her husband, she would cook his favourite dish and wear that red sexy panty-hose thing. “I’m gonna make him feel alright.” She would say happily as she lights candles all over the house. She plans to surprise her husband with the perfect romantic night. At about 8:45pm, her husband is banging on the house door. “Chineye…Chineeeeeeyeee open this door na.” She rushes to the door excited and opens it as she strikes a to-die-for Madonna pose. Oga ignores the pose, hurries inside the house and grabs the remote. “What are you doing?” Chineye asks. “You didn’t see me standing here shey? You didn’t notice the candles?”…Dan glances at her briefly. “Oh that? I thought you were doing yoga or something. Plus the game started fifteen minutes ago.” He looks back at the TV…the game.

Having competed with football for years and lost…EVERYTIME, women have now learned to live the “If you can’t beat them, join them” lifestyle. This is why we have so many Chealsea, Manchester United, Arsenal and Barcelona fans that don’t know jack about their so-called teams. They buy original jerseys and stamp their names on the back of them so their ‘baby’ can be proud. 

If a babe is in the middle of guys having a conversation about football, she tries to contribute so she doesn't seem clueless, even if in the end, she seems even more clueless than they first thought.
Some babes change teams as soon as they change 'babies', so they forget what team they’re supporting sometimes. One week they post - “Chelsea for life. Up Blues” and the next, “Barca forever. Merciless Messi”.

Guys when you see your lady making the effort, you sef encourage her. It’s not easy to pretend that you care about C. Ronaldo….He does have nice abs though. (-_-)

Yours truly, Rantalot

P.S: Happy birthday to my amazing mama :)

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Up Nepa!!!

Ethan gazes into her eyes. He holds her hands and pulls her closer. “Theresa” He says softly.
Theresa looks flustered as she returns his gaze. “Yes, Ethan.” She answers, seemingly hypnotized by the gaze of the one she adores.
“I need to tell you something, Theresa.”
“I’m listening.” She whispers. “Tell me.”
Ethan suddenly dips his right hand in his pocket and brings out a small box. Theresa gasps. You gasp. We all gasp.

And then….Silence. Darkness.There’s a doggone blackout. Mumcee  hisses. The kids whine. Popcee adjusts his head and keeps snoring.

This is a story-line that has passed the test of time in this great country of ours. It has happened in generations past and is still happening now. Nepa (that’s what I've always called it and what I’ll always call it) is probably the most famous entity in naija. Everybody knows Nepa. Great grand parents, grand parents, parents, children, pikins – they all know Nepa. Nepa is like our Michael Jackson.

While oyinbo babies are learning to say “Dada” and “Mama”, naija babies are busy mastering “Up Nepa.” Can’t blame them too. Na heat don waya them. The strangest part is that Nepa has plenty mind readers. How else would they know to take the light when the movie is at its climax. When the guy is about to kiss the girl - the kiss that viewers have been waiting for, for months. Or when they are about to catch the woman that has been cheating on her husband and everyone in the house is screaming. “Won ti mu, won ti mu o…” and Gbam!!! Nepa strikes.

Another reason I'm sure Nepa has telepaths is this – When there has been power supply for a pretty long time (naija’s definition of long, at least) and you think in your mind, “Ahnahn, there’s still light sha.” Sharp sharp, the light has gone. It’s like they’re saying, “You ingrate, you’re not even happy. You’re complaining.” I think ama get me one of those mind-blocking thingies from X-men.

As a kid, if I insulted anyone or called anyone names, my mum would either give me “the look” or just grab the nearest Louis Vuitton belt (if her kid was going to be scarred, they might as well be designer scars, right?). On the other hand, when Nepa 'offs' the light, and before I can control myself, I start to call them names…“Nonsense rubbish Jagbajantis…etc” When I eventually remember that my mother is watching me, I look at her apologetically but she would grin at me and give me her blessings.

This particular rant was inspired by an incident that occurred when I was hanging out with my friends and family today. We were having a good time and rocking the azonto to the music in one restaurant. That’s how Nepa struck! In the middle of my azonto. Crime toh bad. As always, we carried on like it was the norm. I got to thinking – if the power supply gets cut in Yankee, for example; they panic, run around, call the phone company, call 911. I can imagine calling the police when power goes out here. They’ll probably arrest me for mocking them.

Yaaaay. They just brought the light oh. Up Nepa!!!!!!!!

Mschew. Na generator sha…G'night. Until a layrah time. *wink*

Yours truly, Rantalot

Trade by barter

You know the trade by barter system they had back in the day?? They exchanged carrots for beans, plantain for pepper, Fish for cowries, doughnut for icecream...right ( ._.) Well, I always wished we still had that system while I was growing up...I would have exchanged my brothers for maybe a nice necklace. On second thought, if the Salvation Army was accepting human donations...that would have rocked ( ˘~˘)
Growing up with three elder brothers is not a play play something (⌣̩_⌣) . I was the general punching-bag of the household. You know how restless boys can be. Very restless. And when this restlessness comes upon them like a thief in the morning, they need to vent, and on who better than their little sister. They all had their different personalities, all three of them. Let's call them - Yellalot, Wozealot and Calmalot.
Yellalot did just that, yell a whole lot. You could never win an argument with him. If he decided that on Mondays the sun was purple, then believe me the sun was purple. If I ever picked an argument with him, even if I was making sense, I never won because I was young. "What do you know?" "What have you seen?" "How old are you?" He asked me these questions numerous times. JAMB had nothing on him(-_-). Fortunately or unfortunately for me, I had a pretty big mouth on me. I always had something to say in return. I believed I had seen enough, and I knew enough. Apparently, I didn't know that a slap could wipe my slate of knowledge clean. Once, Yellalot and I were arguing about a book, or something. He called me various names that would have kept the average teenage girl up at night, crying. I replied him, "Yellalot, you're terrible at arguing. Let's argue civilly. Stop calling me names". Just as he was about to throw a slap my way, I would run to my mother who would push me back to slaughter. I guess my mother must have invented the saying, "As you lay your bed, so u must lie on it."
However, Yellalot and I were good friends. He told me stuff and protected me from the bad boys. He taught me his cool school songs. He carried me to the room whenever I fell asleep on the couch. No one messed with Yellalot's sister - except him apparently ( ._.). He always had my back. Still does. He's the only one who's managed to give me a nickname that stuck - "Small". Oh, the pleasure! (-_-)
Wozealot....*sigh* I grew up afraid of Wozealot. Wozealot didn't need a reason to woze you. If you sneezed too hard and didn't apologise, Wozealot was ready to rearrange your physique with a few slaps here, there and everywhere. Once,I remember very clearly, Wozealot called me, "Whiskey, Whiskey come here come here"...Who was I not to answer??( -̩̩̩͡˛ -̩̩̩͡ ) I was Whiskey that day. He took no nonsense. He would lose something and I'll get punished for not telepathically finding the location. Wozealot was my bogeyman.
Then Wozealot went to school in another continent and then we became real close. I realised that more than my other brothers, we had the most in common. We think alike. Once, we were both gisting with mumc and I suggested something. Then he said, "stop reading my mind." *smiles* The change was strange but beautiful. Wozealot sacrificed a lot for me even from miles away. I learned to be friends with him, as opposed to fearing him. When Wozealot came home, we became even closer and we lived happily ever after...until a few days ago. I asked him to repeat something he said. He asked me if I was deaf ƪ(˘.˘)ʃ
Calmalot «---- Please do not be deceived by this alias. Calmalot was very quiet. Mr. Gentle-in-nature. He didn't argue like the rest of us. However, I got most of my punch-bag lessons from him. I never used to be afraid of getting beaten by my teachers because I thought, "What do they want to do that I've not experienced before?" To be honest, my mouth went and overdid itself many times. My parents always took sides with him because they thought, "She must have said something." But is it not every parent's duty to protect their children's lives?? ( ˘~˘) One day, Calmalot was watching TV, and my guardian angel forgot to tell me he was in a bad mood. So I went and changed the channel. I was actually just trying to check if a program had come on and I remember telling him this. Sadly for me, he didn't care. Before I knew it, Calmalot's fist was planted on my eye. (O_O). I screamed and screamed. My neighbours were probably used to my screams by now so they must have turned the volume of their TVs up because nobody came to my rescue. Anyway, I screamed and screamed. "My eye...My eye...MY EYE!!!" Calmalot looked at me and asked, "Are you blind?" I opened the eye to check if it was still working. I saw that it was and I hissed and asked him, "So you're waiting for me to be blind shey??" He jus tuned the TV back to the previous channel, without a care for his sister who wasn't blind after all. ( º̩̩́_º̩̩̀)
My dear Calmalot was a Rantalot soldier. Whether you were messing with me oh, or you were just standing too close for comfort, Calmalot was ready to beat anyone blue-black. Even those bigger than him. Nowadays, if he sees me chiding someone or just telling off someone, before he even knows what happened or if it was me at fault, he has shoved the person into the nearest wall( ._.) One time, he saw one guy trying to chike his sister. I was ignoring the boy and he wasn't really bothering me per say, I mean...toasting no be crime...but Calmalot no gree mehn. He stepped up to the guy.."Wetin you dey find? You lost?..." The poor boy scurried along.
All my brothers are amazing. We're all pretty grown up now. The blows have lessened a great deal. The smiles and hugs have increased. Life is Good and I love my brothers to bits and pieces.
It's a rainy day but life must go on...ƪ(˘.˘)ʃ Oya Chop! Chop!
Yours truly, Rantalot
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Face Painting

Last Monday, I started taking this make-up class. Whenever I tell people this, they automatically assume I had a carry-over *sigh* Thanks for your concern, but I kinna know book. ( ˘~˘). So, I started taking a make-up (the art of face-painting) class. It's a two-week programme, which is probably why I'm gingered. I'm not a fan of any kind of school, except probably the School of Thought ( ._.)

The classes (several of them) are run by my church, Daystar Christian Center. No, I didn't build it, but I go there :) Anyhooz, my mum is like a church leader one kain one kain, so I warned her before I started..."Mummy", I said. "In case they come and report me to you, sorry in advance." -or something like that. For some reason, I tend to make all the noisemaker lists in whatever school I go. Not my fault ( ˘~˘). My parents should have made sure I attended British International School. With all the AC and oyinbo in the air, I would have lost any agbero 'Hattitude'.

Anyway, since the class started, I've kept to my values and principles. I'm a girl of my word. So, I've made a lot of noise in class. E easy? O_o. I'm also learning a lot of stuff. It's fun. Trust me, if you get to paint someone's face with whatever you like while keeping a straight face, you'll have fun too.

'My Dazzle' (our teacher's alias) gave us homework to do over the weekend. To do it, you need a human face and head. We're supposed to do make up for the face and then tie gele for the head. Yes, gele. I actually thought I would embarrass my parents when I first tried it in class. But to my amazement, it came out pretty good *wide grin*.

As I was saying, we were asked to do homework; so I begged my mother to volunteer her face. First thing she asked was, "How much?" *sigh* To make matters worse (for both of us), I told her I would have to fix fake eyelashes on her too. O_O "Lailai". She said. "My eyes? I hate make up oh, but I even hate eyelashes more. Ehn??? Never"...etc. I told her she didn't have a choice. She should have given me a sister if she knew she wasn't up to the volunteering task, innit? Yes, innit.

So I'm waiting for her to come home now so I can paint her face with a straight face*evil grin*.

Tick Tock...Tick Tock....

So she came home and I got a-painting. She grumbled her way through the entire process. One time I told her "Sorry". She said "Sorry for yourself". *sigh* She kept shaking this way and that till i actually started feeling sorry for myself. You're probably waiting to hear how the eyelash-fixing event went. Well it was pretty uneventful. To my surprise, she didn't call me too many names. She just grunted a lot and said things like, "I dont know how a human being will sit down and let them do this to her"; "Don't chook my eye oh."; "I'm getting tired, I will stand up oh."; "What's all these sef?"; "Mschew..." etc. The art of make-up is for strong men.

I don't think I did too badly :)...You agree, no?? If you agree *kissssses*...if you don't, oya come and be going. *wink*

Yours Truly, Rantalot.


Starting anything is usually exciting (except maybe a prison term). Excitement in the air. You're on Cloud 59 and you just can not wait to begin.

Eventually you do start and then you find it's not as rosy as you thought it'd be *straight face*. You're thinking..."nobody told me I'd actually have to stay awake for that long"; "All i wanted was the 5 million bucks at the end of the tunnel. Who said anything about actually going through the tunnel" *rolls eyes*.

I know the feeling. I totally do. I decided to start a blog (several years ago) *covers face*. I must have got a revelation from my Poppa (for future reference, you should know Poppa is God) ...anyway, I must have got a revelation, because I suddenly decided that the blog's time was here.

Turned out that I kinna had one already :) One of my lecturers made us open one as an assignment. Cool, innit?? So I set to re-designing, re-naming, re-engineering. re-gbogbo e. Slowly but surely, my smile faded. If anyone had warned me before hand that it would take as long as it did or that i would have to do that much thinking to get this ish up and running, I might have kept my blog-dream in dream land.

But here we are. *big smile, albeit fake* We're set. Along the line, I'll change things. Remove things. Somersault things etc... But for now, here we are. You're welcome to the RantLot and I'm Rantalot.

Hopefully, we'll get to know each other better. *wink* Meanwhile, it's past two in the morning and my mates are sleeping. Cash ya layrah.