VEE'S Blog

HiLo!

Vee's Blog is up and running. You can check it out now, http://moarsblog.blogspot.com.

Tell a friend.

Cheers.

Neo!

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH CHUKWUMA

Good people of Blogsville, I have two announcements to make. I have decided to start a blog for the fictional Dr. Vee. In true fashion it will be called Memoirs of a Reluctant Socialite, but I swear if she starts getting more attention than I do, I’ll murder that baby!!!

Okay back to the, okay wait o, I said two announcements but for the life of me I cannot remember what the second one was, it comes with having the attention span of a 2yr old! If I remember I will tell you. Now back to the issue for the day.

I have decided to tell you about my love affair with Chukwuma (hereinafter referred to as Chuks) Chuks and I started this love affair late last year, around December. You see my sister and her husband tried to hook me up with Chuks but they wanted supervisory rights and I just wasn’t ready for all that. Abeg, old mama like me? Anyways I couldn’t hold out for too long, so whenever we were alone Chuks and I would go out for a quick one. These clandestine trips were so intoxicating, a la sex alfresco but we both knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. We knew all the repercussions should we get caught. Besides Chuks was getting tired of being my little secret. He wanted us to come out and so I said ok but we have to make everything right. I must confess I did all the work o, spent all the money. Chuks wasn’t all that o! Still I didn’t complain I was happy to. I played by all the “rules” and by March Chuks and I debuted officially as an item!

This would be a safe point to tell you that Chuks is a 2001 Limited Edition Peugeot 306. Yes I agree, I am not well, I am not serious, I am mad and all the other stuff you are thinking, but there is no better way to describe my relationship with my car.

Chuks has been there for me o, he saved me from those Boko Haramists that are parading themselves as okada riders and slowly killing all the people foolish enough to embrace western education. He saved me from having “unofficial drivers” and for giving me road independence. He is my outlet and when its just me and Chuks against a thousand mile stretch of tar, I swear its pure bliss. He doesn’t even complain when I decide to take out my frustrations by riding him too hard. Like today just because I wasn’t in the mood for traffic I made him take this route that isn’t good for him, Chuks has been tryin to tell me for a while now that Bishop Aboyade Cole Street is not good for him. I knew that too (I mean I don’t know the descendants of Einstein that felt the best solution to the potholes on that road would be to scatter hundreds of boulders on the road) So today I ignored Chuks and the worst thing happened, a boulder got stuck under Chuks and actually pulled down one “thingy”. We had to stop and make sure Chuks was alright and somehow I managed to reattach the “thingy”, I feel so bad now because even at the time I was worried about my new Vera Wang’s and how they would do in that horrid topography! Now I have seen the error of my ways and feel so bad for treating Chuks so bad. He’s been through a lot this week. I mean it was just last Monday that one of those Boko Haramists knocked one side mirror off clean. Now the said side mirror is attached to Chuks by a flimsy shoelace!

So I love Chuks and I don’t mind that though he’s my first I wasn’t his first. Infact Chuks has had two lovers before me and infact early in our relationship he wasn’t entirely faithful. But Chuks knows I love him, when he was sick and the doctors diagnosed a battery failure, I stretched my measly corper salary to get him a new one. I even gave him a brighter dazzling smile and changed the gear knob when it broke. I lovingly bathed, shined and polished him whenever he needed. I need Chuks to know this because even though sometimes I abandon him at the slight chance to sit in the plushness Toyo-Ravy offers or even that one time I went out with Toyo-Highlandy (even though he’s such a snob) I will always love Chuks, even though my eyes roam and rest lasciviously on Hyundai Ellie or lately Hondy City.

Chuks has been very faithful to me and I will always love him because as they say you never truly forget your first.

PS: I have this friend that named her first car, a Kia Rio, Amy, so when we talked about it I said my car was more of a Chukwuma, very strong, dependable and will not give up on you which is more than I can say for the aje burra Amy!

Rantings of a Hormonal Somebody!!!

Before i say anything i want to say thanks to all of u who read my last post, ur comments were very muchly appreciated. The thing is i'm about 40 pages deep into MOARS (memoirs of a reluctant socialite) so i definitely cant post the whole thing. Will continue to do excerpts though and some of the other stuff i've written. Abi?

It's Tuesday morning and i can feel myself slipping into a mild bout of depression. I'm doin evrything i can to stop it but it seems hell bent on happening so i think maybe i should let it. I'm rocking back and forth in my chair cos ive got bad cramps (really ouch) and the office is practically empty (other lawyers have one do or the other) So the jnr Associate is going to get saddled with all the work. I'm not in a crappy mood yet but i'm definitely on the Red Eye there.

I have a lot of stuff on my mind, mostly money ish! Now is the time i'm angry at my father for not being Aliko Dangote or some other rich b@$t@rd and at the same time i want to beat the crap out of myself for thinking like that. Afterall even Dangote has money ish, now i so wouldnt want to be an Ibru or an Akingbola. Chai, my mother declared wanted by EFCC, i wouldnt even show my anonymous face on blogger. Uneasy itches the arse that sits on a pile of cash!

I'm just worried and it's human nature to worry but i need a release. What a better forum for release that blogger???

Plus i have ex-boyfriend issues on the one hand which i am totally not ready to deal with. Guys please help me out on this. Am i being unreasonable not to want to get back together with someone who had a bbq last wkend to which one proud member of his harem (or wateva he wants to call it) showed up. I mean this was a loony that stalked me and harassed me while the said ex and I were still together. Am i overreacting by being upset that obviously they are still chummy enough for her to show up at his bbq. Me think not o! Right now all i have to say in the matter is in the only Ijaw phrase i know....Ta! bogo so!

Plus Skye Bank is stupid jo! Hakuna matata my arse, you guys are worrying me big time. So if a corper opens a savings account, its not a savings account again? Why should i bring another ID to open another account? Mschewwwwwwww!!!

Plus my boss just asked me to do a reminder to this bank that overcharged our clients account by several millions of naira, i'm almost tempted to ask him whether this really matters seeing as the said client is on the CBN Debtors list and owes several billions. How will the few measly millions the bank supposedly owes him help???

I put in my resignation letter yesterday, (supposed to be taking off for a study leave) so maybe i should just drag my feet on evrything i have to do and instead prepare elaborate 2 page handover notes and dash my colleagues all my work.

Of which my friend has accused me of being Ayoka (Rookie Lawyer) Nothing i say can dissuade her from this notion, short of giving her the link to this blog (hmnnnnnnnn!) Anyways with the stuff thats been on mind i cant blame her. I've even started following Ayoka on Blogger but she doesnt update her blog regularly jo! Seems This Day Lawyer is a more lucrative and rewarding forum. Maybe i should call The Guardian and see if they'll publish my blog, seeing as they like to copy This Day (refer to Guardian Life and This Day Style) As for Vanguard Allure, the caption should read "....extra newspaper to line your cupboard" I'm being very catty abi? Its the hormones!

Anyways i'm half heartedly feeling much better already. This was just a meaningless rant, a sort of five minute release.

Thank God for blogger!

DIPPING ONE TOE IN THE ATLANTIC

Refer to Blog title please! Ehen! This is exactly how this feels. Another way to describe it is having a baby you really love but ur not sure whether people are goin to say "Oh what a cute monkey!" when you take it out. Well this is one of my many babies, that have never ever ever (you get the point, EVER!) seen the light of day and yet i have chosen to bring her out just for the good people of blogsville. I want you to be kind to her and at the same time i want you to tell me if i should take her back in and lock her up once again. Anyway here goes, this is called Memoirs of a Reluctant Socialite. i started it a couple of months back in one of my lighter moods (its pure chic lit o!) and had intended to publish it as a fictional blog, anyway story for another day. Enjoy!

PS: All rights reserved o! No production or reproduction of this without the consent of yours truly or i go sue ur ass from here to Timbuktu! No forget say i be lawyer o!

Excerpt from Memoirs of a Reluctant Socialite;

Okay. I admit it I’m out of my element. Not in the fish out of water way but more like goldfish swimming with the tilapias. I mean take that woman for instance I’m sure her patent Balenciaga bag costs more than my annual salary and to me my pay’s not that shabby, to her it’s a bag, probably one of a closet full. So you could ask what I was doing at the same party with Miss Balenciaga. I was asking myself the exact same thing.

I was born and grew up mostly in P-Town (that’s what the trendy kids call Port Harcourt now) but I migrated to the west after I was done with primary school and I’ve been in love with Lagos ever since. I mean my entire life is here, my confusing boyfriend whom I love despite the fact that I seem to want to break up with him every two days, my best friends (frankly I have about 10 of them) and all my fave places, like Takwa Bay, The Palms, Silverbird Galleria and oh Nando’s. I mean I love P-Town or rather I love my family which is rooted in P-Town but Lagos has grown on me.

You have to love Lagos, whether you’re the quiet type or the one the bouncers know by name, it’s a town that takes care of everybody.

So back to the Balenciaga party, I mean ok I’m fresh out of medical school, doing my housemanship with a leading private clinic and still so excited I’m scrawling Dr. Yvette Greene on every scrap of paper. Yeah that’s my name Yvette. Apparently I was conceived in Paris, the most romantic city in the world, by the way being conceived in a place doesn’t make you a citizen and frankly that’s unfair. I would make a nice Parisian, rolling my r’s and saying “bon” all the time. Okay back to the point, I tend to roll off tangent at times. I hate being called Yvette so everyone calls me Vee. I share a flat (when I say flat I mean a small cramped one bedroom in Lekki) with my friend Nissah. The good news is it comes absolutely free, Nissah’s uncle lives in the main building and she works with him so the flat comes as a perk with the low paying job, even though her uncle is as rich as Oprah! Okay maybe i tend to exaggerate a bit, but you get the point. So it’s Saturday and the lady of the house is attending some kid’s first birthday party and she asks if Nissah and I would like to tag along. I say ok, I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides there’s no light and we dare not put on the generator, Uncle D probably measures the diesel level with a tape rule. Nissah and I barely cook and its mid-month so the fridge is empty. The prospect of free food has us moving in fast forward. I throw on a top I wore the previous day, on top of faded jeans. Nissah digs in her wardrobe for something nicer and advices me to do the same.

“Nissah it’s a child’s first birthday not a presidential gala.” I’d said as she threw on a new sundress. Now standing there in the back garden of a sprawling estate in VGC I wish I’d listened to her. Everybody looks so chic, that’s everyone but me. Nissah tosses her new weave and smiles like a movie star, her two year old cousin expertly balanced on her hip. I realize just then that I seem to have fallen quite by accident into the world of the Lagos socialites.
“Hello” a tiny woman trills enthusiastically as she walks over to us. Nissah’s aunt smiles as they hug and kiss the air at their chicks. I have never understood why they do that.
“Milli! You look great. I can’t believe Mercedes is already one.” Nissah’s aunt said. Mercedes? I could never seem to understand why people gave their kids names like that. The poor thing would probably grow up into a Mercedes, big, imposing and high-maintenance. Whatever happened to the good old traditional names? (Yeah, I’m one to talk)
“The little things grow so fast” the petite Milli says with a dismissive wave of the hand, “is this your sister?” she asks looking at Nissah with an appraising smile. I’m used to the reactions people get around my friend. She’s tall, dark-skinned and curvy with a heart-shaped pretty face. Nissah is stunning. That’s the word. Frankly I have no problem with the fact that I pale beside her. I’ve grown into my skin and the realization that I’m some guy’s type at least.
“Oh, this is Nissah, Dede’s niece. She’s a stockbroker.” Actually Nissah is a lawyer working in a stockbroking firm, still to them it’s probably potatoes-potatos!
“Good afternoon” Nissah says with a wide smile. I wonder if the sides of her face ache.
“She’s a pretty one.” Milli says, “Deji’s brother is just in from Singapore, we should seat them together.”

I shift awkwardly from one foot to the other feeling completely ignored, I mean I seem to have faded into thin air, even Nissah seems to have forgotten I’m there. Well actually I have faded in my grey top and washed jeans. Everyone else is in brightly coloured tops and dresses with huge designer bags. I walk behind them silently as Milli, the hostess, leads us to a table. The children are in the middle of the garden playing a game and Nissah’s cousins run off to join them. I and Nissah settle down while her aunt does the rounds. “Did you see Tunji Coker?” Nissah whispers fiercely.
“Who?” I’m rather distracted, wondering which of the three buffet tables I should attack first.
“Tunji Coker, Dextron Consult. True Love’s bachelor of the month.”
“Really?” I’m not that interested. My stomach is growling loudly. Actually almost everyone looks familiar, in that you-know-me-but-don’t-know-me way. “let’s get something to eat.” I say and Nissah gives me her ‘are u crazy’ look.
“What? It’s a buffet.”
“Vee we just got here. We don’t want to look like we’ve been starved. Give it ten minutes.”
“okay” I mutter crossly “but if my stomach starts to growl loudly you cant pretend you don’t know me.” She laughs.

We get to find out that the party is for the third child of Milli Oderinde who is married to the first son of Justice Oderinde, the Chief Justice of Nigeria. Nissah is so excited to learn that. She studied law but was posted to a capital management company for her youth service. I’m more surprised to learn that Milli has had 3 kids with that body. She’s a size 6. A thirty something year old size 6. I’m 23 and I wear a 12, on my good days a 10. I hate her instantly. More so even when she comes to our table to make sure we’re all fine and completely ignores me. I’m a doctor, I want to scream. I’m important too. I don’t have to heft around a Mui Mui or Lulu Guiness bag to be noticed.

SETTLING DOWN

Ahem! Seems like i am getting the hang of this whole blogging thing. You see i am a very dedicated addict in everything i do. I have decided to shift my focus from the now boring Facebook (I was the one everyone in the office came to for advice on blocking annoying friends to starting groups- that was when i realised i had a problem) I had a brief stint on Twitter but didnt stick, it shoud be called Bwitter (for boring) or Psycho-Stalktter! I mean who cares if P Diddy is tweeting from his sick bed and seeing the angels. I swear that dude has an epiphany each time he has a common cold. Ehen! So as i was saying i am settling into Blogsville as you old timers would say and lovin it.

I often leave my "uncompleted building" (in the spirit of the metaphor) and dash down to some nice "mansions" in Blogsville. I think Sir Scribbles is the Mayor of Blogsville (i stand to be corrected o, but the dude is pushing 100 posts for crying out loud, anyone else would be the Obama or something) Then i "met" someone with the same name and dashed down to theirs to see if we were related. I've been to Rene's and her post on kissing brought back some memories! Chai (my new best exclamation) Then there's this building next to mine, that doesnt even have a roof! The funniest part about that is that the owner of said building was the one who suggested i move to Blogsville. Jonahiam, should you ever read this, you know yourself!

The reason i like Blogsville is cos its a honest to goodness utopian society, every body says watever they want to, not like Reallifesville where you cant tell the annoying wannabe-the-boss-tho-i'm-not what you really think of the way they strut around the office staring at your system and pretending to be busy when they actually delegate all their work to the Junior Associates! Yes, that was resentment. I cant actually tell SA (Snr Associate/ Snr Asshole) that he should stick his pinnochio-ish nose into his own work and let me carry on with my faffing ( i believe a well balanced mix of faffing and working results in a more productive me) There was one time SA actually asked me why i had chosen to work from the library that day! lmagine asking a lawyer that, e for go ask farmer why e carry hoe go farm. I couldn't even form the words to reply him. Anyways more on SA later, i need to dedicate a whole post to handling his matter.

Then there are the other inhabitants of Blogsville, who i think moved to Blogsville to live the fantasy life they've always wanted. That in itself is no crime o, not at all. The crime for which they should be exiled is feeding us a long line and insisting its the real thing. Haba! I left people like urself in Reallifesville o! If you want to spin fiction by all means do so and we the citizens of Blogsville will help you down your path to stardom and not to a Lie-lie Anonymous meeting. Lol. See me i'm very blunt when i'm in Reallifesville so imagine me in Blogsville!

So i am comfortably settled in my new home, i've done some pimping as you can see (if you've been here before) More stylish amendments coming soon.

So this is just to say that i'm getting the hang of this, slowly but surely. Thank you all that have dropped by to say welcome. I will definitely be returning the visit if i havent already. Expect more virtual blogs and if anything note worthy fails to occur in this life of mine i can always treat you to a page or two from the lives of my alter egos. Would have loved to say more but i think i smell SA coming. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Neo.

I SHOULD HAVE SAID BOMB ON THE AIRPLANE (RELOADED)

So it’s Friday morning and my flight is scheduled to leave Lagos at 10:50, being a very UnNigerian Nigerian, I brave the pouring rain and defy the antics of the ATM machines which refuse to dispense cash and make it to the airport by 9:30am. It’s all smooth sailing as I successfully check in and make my way to the departure lounge.
It’s still raining cats and dogs outside and the airport is really full, I half wonder where all these people are going. With the heavy rain it’s no wonder when some flights, including mine, are delayed. I was expecting that. I wander around the departure lounge strolling into stores with VAT charges I cannot afford (yet) and still wondering why people always seem to stare at me on the few occasions I dare to wear something short (must be the hot legs) Back to the point, Aero seems to be making departure calls to every city in Nigeria but the one I’m traveling to. I try to be patient, but that has never been one of my strong suits. To pass the time I bury myself into the Marian Keyes I’ve been reading for the past 2 weeks (once upon a time I could get through a 400page novel overnight, those days are long gone!) It’s been over two hours now and the passengers are starting to get antsy. I make my way to the boarding desk and ask an Aero staff if she had any news about our flight. She says she thinks the flight might be cancelled but that she’s not sure yet. The passengers begin to get agitated and I chip in my small bit (mind you, a very small bit. I’m not about to be reminded that there are people who shelled out almost 40 grand for a seat as against my 5 grand)
I hurry downstairs to the ticketing desk along with everybody else where we were harshly informed that we had two options, either we were to be rescheduled on the 4:15pm flight or get a refund. I quickly weigh my options, shell out another 12 grand which I did not bargain for, or wait a couple more hours for the 4:15 flight. I choose the latter option and hand my ticket to the lady who’s barking at everyone like a French poodle.
My backpack is starting to feel like it weighs a ton and I’m thinking my day couldn’t get any worse, right? How wrong was I. The poodle-lady returns and informs us in her high pitched barks that unfortunately only about 5 people could be rescheduled to the 4:15 flight cos the flight had been fully booked ( she didn’t know that before?) Once again, we had two options, be rescheduled to the 8:15am Saturday flight or get a refund. By this time I really did not feel like a person with options,Virgin Nigeria’s last flight to PH had probably touched down in PH and I was stuck in Lagos staring at a reincarnated poodle who was “just doing her job” What an interesting job, I thought, canceling and rescheduling flights. I had no choice but to once again opt for the 8:15 am flight. I thought I had it bad, till I heard the oyinbo (white, just in case u have to pretend u don’t know what “oyinbo” means) dude next to me sigh “na wa for this Aero o!” That was enough to diffuse the anxiety for a while at least.
I called up a friend who lives so close to the airport that when any member of her family is traveling back home all she has to do is stand on her balcony to see the flight when it lands (her words, not mine) and she came to pick me up from the airport so i could sleep over at hers. Well there was about half an inch of an silver lining in this story at this point. I got to hang out with a few friends for the rest of the day.
Bright and early the next morning (it had to be Sanitation day) my friend dropped me off at the airport. I got in thinking I’d be the one waking up the check in guys, how wrong was I, the queue was so long and wavy that it was impossible to tell where it began and where it ended, so I did what any right thinking young lady would do. I walked boldly to the front of the line, decided that the dude controlling the line was better bullied than smiled at, so I told him that I had been asked to come straight to the check in counter and that if he had any issues with that he should take it up with his manager. It worked! What a wonder a calmly and confidently spoken jumble of words could do, yeah?
I checked in and made for the departure lounge, this time the plane actually boarded, took off and landed on schedule. Okay, this is the point where any sensible nightmare would choose to end, right? Wrong!
I had a fabo day in PH, saw the whole family again. Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, decided to relax a bit, my flight back to Lagos was scheduled for 1:40pm. At about 11:30am my phone beeped a text in. I quote;
“Dear Esteemed Customer, This is to inform you that our flight AJ314 from Port Harcourt – Lagos on the 28th June 2009 at 13:40 hrs has been cancelled due to operational reasons. The next available flight will be tomorrow 29th June at 09:05 hrs and 17:30 hrs. we sincerely apologise for any incionvenience this may cause you and plead for your understanding. For enquiries; Please call 0700FLYAER0”
At this point I decided that this would be a silver lining, I would get to spend more time with my family, all I had to do was develop a bad “sore throat” when I called work early Monday morning to explain why I wouldn’t be coming in. so around noon I left for the airport to reschedule for the Monday morning flight. This would have been another appropriate spot for the nightmare to end.
I got to the airport and when I got to the Aero desk I was sent to a guy whose skin looked like it hadn’t yet made up its mind whether it wanted its owner to be an albino or not. He was on his mobile and did that annoying thing where the person smiles at you and holds up one finger. When he was eventually done talking, he smiled and asked how he could help me. I very calmly in my best I’m-a-lawyer-so-you-dont-want-to-mess-with-me voice explained the whole thing to him, he took my print out and gleefully informed me that my promotional ticket did not enjoy the privilege of flying on a Monday morning flight and that the later flight was fully booked. At this point it was becoming clear that this was a plot to make me lose it, so I did. My flight had been cancelled twice in 2 days and since it was no fault of mine the least they could do was put me on their next flight whether or not the seats were laden with gold! He said that he was sorry but that it wasn’t possible, still with that annoying smile! I lost it further and the blessed son of man had to effrontery to ask me whether it was his fault, whether he was Aero Contractors? I had to ask him if he expected me to run to the tarmac and shout at the aircraft. He replied that the best he could do was to leave my ticket open ended so I could use it some other time. Yeah! Just so they could cancel on me again? So I proudly squared my shoulders and asked for a refund of my 5 grand. I was once again directed to another sour faced lady who made the refund.
Cut the long story short, I had to fly Virgin Nigeria the next morning, it was a good flight, the one with in flight entertainment and the flight attendant didn’t ask me if I wanted those doggone cashews. I saw the Aero flight on the tarmac as I boarded Virgin and now all I can think was I should have warned the passengers boarding it how I suspected there might be a bomb on the plane.it was my civic duty! Hell I SHOULD HAVE SAID BOMB ON THE AIRPLANE and maybe one of these days I will.