Happy weekend.

Happy weekend to all of you. I'm exceptionally excited about this weekend. Love is on the way.

Get busy.

G.

I know Oga.

Hello people.
Twitter has become the place I blog. I'm not so frequent there anymore but instead of sitting here and typing, which is the same thing done on twitter, I prefer plenty 140 words posted randomly.

Have you watched TERRIBLE BOSSES?

I should have been in that movie. I have an even worse scenario. Now is one of those times I prefer anonymity. One craze person could see this and go on to tell "oga" which actually I don't care. But then, I have enough office beef. Even spare to take home for my soup and I don't want "oga's" beef.

So.
Sexual harassment. Favoritism. "I-know-oga" characters. Gossip. Envy. Yada. Yada.
You know when you condone something till you wake upset that you're condoning something you're scared to handle..... Number 1 and 2. That's it.

I love Igbo people but the ones I work with can make you loathe the whole Igbo tribe. I have wonderful Igbo friends. Online and in real life. My best friend, Chiamaka, who is also my editor, is Igbo.

But you meet some people and you can't help but notice their tribe. Because they make it obvious. That they are Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa, Ibibio, etc.

Number 3. The I-know-oga characters. This one drives me crazy.


Normal standard procedures. Some people just swing themselves into a place and want to intimidate you because they know Oga. You can't even say one word before they go off on how Oga is their brother, uncle, best friend, father, boyfriend, sugar daddy, lover, fucker and Yada Yada. At least I haven't heard husband yet.

I can handle the visitors. It's the staff that "know oga" that is my issue now. Some are just junior staff. You can't send them on an errand and they do it willingly. They grudge, get upset, frown, murmur, insult, slam their faces on the wall and eventually mess up what you instructed them to do because as oga's person, they shouldn't be bothered. I've raised the issue a thousand times. And the response is just what makes me keep saying "Igbo people" and shaking my head.


Please. I know anyone and I mean anyone from any tribe could exhibit these animalistic attitudes. Even my lovely people too. But I work with Igbo people. 99 percent. In fact, I'm the only person from Akwa Ibom in my work place. And I like some. Yet, some just spoils it. So, make person no come write another post with plenty grammar in an attempt to table my matter. Listen, I will deal with you.

So, let's continue.

Since "I don't know oga" I respect myself by doing my work, acting mean and harsh and unfriendly and also reminding everybody that I don't know Oga, the rich perv that is toasting me.

You know it's crazy when someone says "even if you earn 1 million, I know oga, he is my brother, we used to extract shit from each other's butt and compare the length of our dicks before the governor of so and so state, forget that he's wealthy now and I'm still struggling and managing, that's life for you." Noisy, loud, flimsy and totally annoying. And it hides my happiness. And turning me to a snob. Yes. I said snob.

As long as my cheque clears every 28. And the boo cracks a joke. And I get my deliveries from ASOS and OASAP and climb one more stilettos. Keep on fucking him. I don't care. Again. That's my way of handling terrible bosses.

There's free wifi. That's why I'm ranting. Plus it's few days to my birthday. Precisely Easter Sunday. And I feel elderly.

I love giveaways. I just don't know how to go about it. How I'll get to deliver it. I for do. And don't think I'm lazy. Maybe I am. But then, I've never bothered about these things.

I've been rocking burgundy color lipstick. Ruby Woo by Mac. I look very old. And I like it. I look 35. And I have straw curls on. I look big. But I love the look.

I'm listening to a song. Hold me for a while. I don't know the artist. And I miss the old me.

I wish you all the best in this beautiful life. Let love rain on you. And devour you. Completely.

G.

I miss you.

Greetings.

Hello my lovely family. I don't know where to start but I want you know that I miss you all. It's been months of silence, work, twitter and life.

Myne,Didi, Ebila, who I actually didn't miss and the rest.

Thing is, I have lots of blogs on my reading list that haven't posted anything in years. But I read every blogspot just that I don't drop comments and other stuff like that. Atilola, I read your blog regularly.

Prism too. HD, the, I don't even know what eccentric name to call her.


Been writing, working, living and busy. I have loads of stuff I'll love to post and I'll post them as soon as I can. It's been pretty crazy with your girl. But in all I'm growing and that's the happy thing.


This post was just to tell those that care to know or read this blog that I miss them and I'm still here. And I'm back to blogging as frequently as possible and better things sef.


I've been "wanting" to let this out in ages.

I finished my therapy classes for depression. Lol. I had to pretend a lot to finish those classes and I want to say I'm grateful to all those that were there for me. I am fine. Very fine. I thought of taking on a new habit. Maybe, smoking, or drinking, or partying, or cooking, or gardening, or dancing, or cycling, or exercise, or writing. None worked. Well, I got lots of suggestions, good and bad so don't look at me like that.

What I settled for is quite a handful and very embarrassing, so, I won't say it. But subsequently, if you're interested or you care enough to check, you will know. Till then.....

I love you like XO.

In other news, I want to thank God for food. You won't understand this if you see it with that shallow mind and that doesn't mean you're shallow. But, I've come a long way and I'm happy to say that having food to eat is a privilege.

Good day.