Thursday, July 27, 2017

Surprise Me!



Surprise Me!

 

I visited Morocco in 2011. I heard it was a beautiful country with a rich culture and history. I looked forward to the desert tours on camels trekking through the dunes. I was open to adventure and not drawn to any one particular tourist attraction.
 
After a few minutes staring at the map of prospective sites, I said to my private tour guide, “Surprise me!"
 
"Sir, you want to see the Atlas Mountain, Ouzoud falls, or the Marrakech museum? We also have the Draa Valley and Bahia Palace. But there's no such place as “Surprise Me” in Morocco," he said.
 
I told him to take me to his favorite places then. “Surprise Me” was probably still under construction.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

HIGH MAINTENANCE


HIGH MAINTENANCE

 

It was our first date after we met online and developed a mutual spark. We agreed to have dinner and watch a movie. She picked the movie and I chose the restaurant. I don’t remember her name now. But she had jaw-dropping beauty, a contagious smile and engaging wit.

 

We met at the bustling and sprawling City Mall. A tight, black mini dress accentuated her curves in all the right places. Her mahogany skin shone like lacquer. She wore a pretty and sparkly diamond necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. I couldn't help but stare like a fool. The sunlight struck the facets of the pendant and a prism of rainbows enveloped us where we stood. A picture-perfect ambience for a first date.

 

We were the cynosure of all eyes. She held onto my arm and we went into the state-of-the-art multi-screen cinema at about 7pm. I don't remember much about the movie plot. Things got awkward as soon as we plonked down in our seats.

 

She was sandwiched between me and an overweight, bearded gentleman in the aisle seat. He was an older man with glasses and grey hair. I had no issue with the beard or his waistline, but I don't like rude movie talkers. People who run live commentaries. My date and the portly gentleman struck up a conversation and gave us loud unsolicited opinions about the movie. She'd lean into him, touch his arm and say something about the plot. He'd break out in uncontrollable laughter with his hand on her thigh or placed across her shoulders. He was probably old enough to be her grandfather. She didn’t seem to mind the wandering hand. Their talk went on and on, and on, and on like an annoying alarm that has no off switch or snooze button. It was not cool at all. They drew angry glares, but I don’t think they even noticed. I chomped on my popcorn and watched the big screen with all the enthusiasm of a deflated balloon. My bright red balloon had become a sad scrap of rubber

 

We walked out of the theatre and she reached out and held my hand. Grandpa stood nearby at the ticket stand, watching us and stroking his beard. I glowered at him and he slunk away. His enormous belly quivered as he navigated his way.

"He's going the other way," I told her.

"Who?"

''Your friend with the beard." 

She smiled and gave me an apologetic look, but my face was sour, stern and disapproving. I said nothing more to her until we got to the restaurant. The expensive Chinese restaurant served great food and was located at the crowded food court of the mall. She was excited as we perused the menu and placed our orders. I wanted a plate of sizzling beef with black bean. She ordered spring rolls, chicken feet, spare ribs, egg tarts, black truffle dumplings, rice noodles, jelly fish and fried cod. Her meal was heaped on three plates. She almost cried in anticipation of the food. 

"You must be really hungry," I remarked.

She nodded. "I'm famished." 

The portions seemed too big for one person. But then, the long running commentary with the portly gentleman was exhausting work and she needed to replenish her energy. 

 

She called the waiter and placed orders for takeaways. I realized this was greed, not actual hunger. The vibes were troubling. 

“I have a roommate. She must be really hungry now,” she said at my raised eyebrow.

 

At the end of the long evening, we walked to my car at the parking lot. I had called a cab for her. We were headed in opposite directions and she had three takeaway bags.

"I'd need some money from you,” she said. Her bags were on the hood of my black SUV as we waited for her Uber ride.

"Money for the cab? Don't worry. I will take care of it."

"Not just for the cab," she replied and reached in her purse. She took out a folded slip of paper. It had a list of items and she started reading in a monotone. She needed money for her house rent, new wardrobe, eye surgery, dental work...

 

Her voice was like knives in my eardrum and caused me physical agony. As she continued reading, I glanced around the parking lot. Where was portly grandpa when you needed him to collect his new girlfriend? He probably wasn't with us anymore. 

Friday, July 7, 2017

LIVING WITH TODDLERS


LIVING WITH TODDLERS

What do you do when you meet people and your hand has an intense physical or emotional attraction to their face? You run up to them and touch or caress their face, of course. Ehm, that’s only if you’re a cute three-year-old. If an adult explores such an attraction, a backhand slap with the palm imprinted on your face is the likely outcome. Kids. You’ve gotta love ’em. Adorable little munchkins. They can run up to complete strangers and reveal family secrets. They say the silliest things and embarrass their parents to no end. Impatient, cute and cuddly little people. That’s why I’m writing this with a red and puffy right eye.

A three-year-old boy flung out his hand and struck me in the face as we played. It doesn’t matter if the person who hit your eye is a cute toddler. It still hurts. Especially if the child strikes hard, like a pestle hitting a mortar. My right eye was the unfortunate mortar and got a good pounding. I thought the accidental meeting of hand and face was going to be quickly forgotten. But, like most flings, it had serious consequences. I probably rubbed the eye too hard.

I woke up the next morning and my eyelids were stuck together by a sticky coat of pus. The swollen eye looked like it got impregnated from the affair with the striking hand. When I finally pried it open with my fingers, which I worked like a pair of pliers, it looked irritated. Flings are temporary but their effects can linger. 

My right eye, when it was not red-rimmed, was part of my identity and so I now faced an identity crisis. I could not recognize this person in the mirror staring back at me. I also realized my eyebrows had grown wild and unruly. A WTF (Wild Terrifying Fling) moment if ever there was one. I had an important presentation to make that day.  I turned to the garden pruning shears (for taming the eyebrows) and an over-the-counter eye drop (for the red eye). I was hoping to restore my attractiveness or, at least, improve my appearance. It worked because there were no awkward questions about my eye affair during the presentation.

They will spill hot chocolate on your phone, strike your face with their hands, head-butt you during play (painful as hell), throw tantrums, and ruin your gadgets/furniture. Toddlers generally cause chaos in unimaginable big ways. All you can do, most times, is grit your teeth, smile and give them lollipops. You learn to take it in your stride. There’s no middle ground with them. You either learn the virtue of patience or they’ll drive you nuts.

 

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

From My Inbox

From My Inbox

Dear John: I want to propose to my girlfriend. We met about a week ago and I love her so much. Do you think I should trigger the option to sign her from girlfriend to wifey? - Confused in Lokoja.

 
Dear Confused: The one week loan spell is probably not sufficient time to upgrade anyone from a loan deal to a permanent lifetime signing. I’d suggest you wait until her second season of a two-year girlfriend spell. But hey, what do I know? Some club managers have won the league title in their first season. If you feel that you absolutely want to share the rest of your life with her, then follow your heart. Drop subtle hints about it and get her vibes. If the signals are positive, set sail upon a voyage of love. We can all learn from your folly if you run into troubled waters.

Monday, June 12, 2017

Face Your Problems Squarely


Face Your Problems Squarely

 

I was declared missing once. For a couple of hours. I was probably about 6 years old. My mother had the neighborhood looking for me while I was sound asleep behind a door in the house. 

 

I don't like being yelled at. When I heard she was terribly upset that I hadn't carried out an assigned chore, I went and hid behind the open door of the bathroom. In hind-sight, a wrong decision.

 

I have no idea how long I stood behind that door. Dark came. I was tired. I slept off. And things went downhill from there.

 

My mother became worried when dark descended and I did not show up. She went through a gamut of emotions. From anger, self-recrimination, which piled on; anxiety and finally, an apology to me. I never heard any of it. I was spending an uncomfortable, unplanned night behind the door. 

 

I got plenty of people worried and they were all looking for me. My dad finally walked into the bathroom, saw the boy everyone was looking for sleeping behind the door. He was thoroughly relieved. He woke me up and I had no immediate recollection what the fuss was about. My dad took me to bed. He also took back the missing person complaint he had filed at the police station. 

 

The next day, I was embarrassed when neighbors and friends kept asking where I went. Took a while to make things right. It's best to face your problems squarely and find solutions rather than hiding behind excuses or an open door.

Saturday, May 6, 2017

Photographers From Hell

Last year, a devastated couple took a photographer to court to get their money back. Their big day was ruined when the photographer turned up late. She left them with just 15 'rubbish' pictures of their reception but plenty 'quality' selfies.  After arriving late, she spent more time taking pictures of herself at their reception than of the happy newlyweds.

The bride's dress was torn and muddy after the photographer made her plod through puddles. The photographer said she was happy with her shots. The couple won their appeal for a refund and the photographer was described as the 'wedding photographer from hell'. 

Some photographers are truly from the realm of hell. You can tell this photographer is completely in his element when he takes the pictures. He unleashes a repertoire of silly moves or stunts. Makes the couple climb trees, traipse through puddles, and perform a couple of hilarious acrobatic moves. Some of these stunts kick-start domestic violence in many relationships. The genie gets out of the bottle, disguised as romantic photo poses, and it can't be put back.

"Madam, jump on his back and hold his neck like you want to strangle him."

This 'madam' is no featherweight, but she ignores this fact. She jumps on her partner's back and places him in a World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) submission choke hold. His eyes bulge like those of a frog. He's only seconds away from passing out as he takes a staggering step. He realizes, albeit too late, that this was a huge mistake. Her weight flattens him against the ground and his life flashes before his eyes. 

After the photo shoot, madam goes back to this submission move whenever things don't go her way. No surprise he files for divorce. He's not yet ready for the trip to the great beyond. Domestic violence is cited as reason for the separation.

Red flags of domestic violence (husband or wife battering) usually appear fairly early on in a relationship. Most times, you can simply go back to the engagement or wedding pictures to see where it all began. A silly stunt suggested by a photographer from hell. 

Friday, May 5, 2017

The Garden of Eden

The Garden of Eden

Once upon a time, in the distant land of Eden, a woman preened as she admired her comely  reflection in the clear stream. She pushed back her hair and smiled. She turned her beautiful neck this way and that, wondering why Adam rarely paid her compliments. She was vain. It was a good thing she didn't drown in self-admiration. 
 
Stan watched her. It was many moons before the invention of the cell phone, but he had his ways. It was no surprise that he had an iPhone 8s in his hand. 
 
"You look adorable, Eve. Come, let me take your picture," he said to her. Eve, who never got tired of compliments, fished for more by asking him if he was sure. He assured her she looked smashing.  
"What's a picture?" 
"It is an image of you. I'm able to capture your beautiful image using this device in my hand. Strike a pose by that tree of the knowledge of good and evil."
"Oh no! I couldn't do that. We were warned not to touch the tree. God will slay us." Stan laughed. 
"That's an urban legend. An old wives' tale. The only person slaying here today is you. You're  the Slay Queen of Eden." 
"What's an urban legend? What's an old wives' tale? I'm not old."
"Never mind that." Stan showed her some pictures of her. He took them while she was admiring her reflection in the little stream. Eve was impressed with the quality of the images. She was secretly glad there were no other women around to compete or mute her shine. 
 
"Now, bite into one of the fruits. Put a flower crown around your head and make a duck face." Eve was a natural when it came to striking poses. She  not only blazed on the Eden green carpet with her performance, but also delivered an unforgettable show. It was a performance that would inspire generations of women to come. She thoroughly enjoyed the photo session. A pity she couldn't post the pictures on Instagram. It hadn't been created. 

"I look hot," she said as she took a selfie with duck lips. Thus began the selfie-culture. 
"You're certainly in hot water," mumbled Stan.