Mr(s) Bitch

At almost any chance available, Girls (or is it feminist they call themselves) always strive to equal or even outshine, out power, out-man, out-everything men. But is it ever a competition? Do men even have the time when they're still busy trying out the appropriate condom size.

I can understand the female folks' freudian struggle of egalitarianism though, but what's the (big) point? When all they end up accomplishing is: looking like/coming off as Bitches or rather subtly, Divas. Try pee while standing or sport a goatee if you're so badly pressed to rival men, instead of the lousy attitude you pass off as tough.

I stand to be corrected, but in my 20 something years of living experience, Girls have the disgusting habit of being devilishly RUDE (that's even putting it lightly) in their place of work, especially those in charge of customer's relations: it's as if "insolence" is a preferential criterion on their resumes. They are everywhere, usually the ones you meet at front desks (when you need help the most), reception areas, Jamb/Waec office (old hags that remind you of wicked stepmoms), admission office (when you're desperately seeking college admission), bank cashiers..

And I don't care if the sour attitude is a reflection of a bad day, hormones or PMS aka Mad Cow Disease, I've got problems too but you won't see me wearing it on my sleeve. Bitch! this ain't an episode of Desperate Housewives, so spare me the drama.

But seriously, Girls! what exactly is...are your problems? Must you add another to the already long list.

Anyway, I raise my glass to all the Guys like me; bitches trapped in men's body who have and still put such misplaced X chromosomes in their place.

PS: For fear of turning a chauvinist, I'd leave out my countless nollywood-worthy bitchy encounters.

Dear Heart,

Hey I know you in charge of my body, but I do have a brain & a mind (of my own). So you can start telling your staff aka hormones to take a break or leave me alone. Ahn ahn! What is it sef? Any little visual stimulation & world war III would ensue in my south region. Dear Heart: PLEASE I HAVE A LIFE (at least I pretend to).

It is not enough that I battle the voices holding their lame ass perennial UN summit in my head, you & your cohorts too would start a war in my body(frowns). A slight provocation, & my blood pressure, body temperature is raised just as blood rushes to the south pole. Meanwhile my mind is telling me to ignore you cos it hasn't agreed on a peacekeeping strategy for the ensuing war you are creating.

Hears whispers & mumblings *Screams* will you both shut the fuck up; the noise is killing me (heavy sigh). And you Mind aka Perv, I ain't using my hand on myself (I'm out of vaseline anyways) neither I'm I doing porn. Didn't I just mute you?!PERV.

And you Heart, I can't love like that: I was born this way...not stupid. Don't you even dare cupid me, I got a gun oo. Fuck it whatever (throws hand). Ehn ehn Mind, you were saying? Finally some sense;

Dear Heart, Mind says to tell you to bring it on. I wouldn't give a fuck anyways. I made it this far. No matter the number of hard-ons, blood pressure or butterflies you put in my gut. Imma pretend to have a life.

Me: huh? Say what? Lmao. You think I won't be getting some. The Joke's on you fucker. A horny bitch just rang.

Now talk to the hand!

Yours truly,
My Brain.

BBM the Menace

I wholly gave up (what's the legal term?)...errm...my rights to privacy and any smidgen of common sense the instant I bought a phone pretending to be a fruit. And I joined the "fad" called the Blackberry community.

From that moment on I've encountered persons of all dermatological & cerebral variations on BBM:

Persons aka strangers who request me on a whim & ask to fuck me right before I can type Hi.

Persons who suddenly wanna be my parent & have an opinion about my every actions: that includes my display pictures & status updates. As if my Mother ain't doting enough. Hiss!

Persons who send broadcasts. Not because they know what it means but because we now live in a society where phones are toys for Retards.

Persons who send red PING for no apparent reason.

Then my all-time personal favorite: BBM decorators: Persons who won't ever correspond with you yet re-add if you delete them.

*Insert random Convos*

Pinger 1: Please use a dp

Me: Ok! Continously autoEnd chat

Pinger 2: Are you Gay?

Me: I insert Omawunmi's single (If you ask me)

Pinger 3: PING!

Me: Broadcast PING right back repeatedly

Pinger 4: Why is your status Busy?

Me: I just feel "Busy" makes me look cool.

Pinger 5: Is your status about me?

Me: Yes it always is...End chat then delete if persist.

Pinger 6: Is that really you in your dp?

Me: No oo..its Chris Brown

Pinger 7: What's the meaning of your display name, it sounds bitchy?

Me: Smh...Go figure.

Pinger 8: Hey I saw your pics on a friend's phone. Can we meet? I wanna fuck you

Me: Sure. You get the Gold Circle. I'd get the Lube.

Pinger 9: Forward this BC or you will die

Me: Too much Afmag

Pinger 10: What's the meaning of Go Figure?

Me: Go figure

So much for Smart Phones & Idiots. *Eyes rolling*