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Letter To My Girlfriend About Football

Hey people. Exactly a year ago today, I published my first post here reluctantly and that post has just 2 views. I didn’t put up another post till a month later. Who would have thought a year down the line, this same blog would have amassed almost 200k views and 10k comments. It’s been an incredible journey with a lot of reading, sleepless nights and amazing friends and acquaintances made along the way. Today is very emotional for me as this will be my last post on http://www.thetoolsman.wordpress.com. The blog has definitely outgrown the wordpress engine and with the rising number of spams and bots stopping by, I know the time is right to move.

In comes http://www.thenakedconvos.com, our new home. Remember it, bookmark it, save it. Why the naked convos? We’ve always been about driving conversations here. From the logical to the controversial and others. From Monday 8^th of August 2011, we invite you to come stripping yourself of all restrictions as our posts go up on http://www.thenakedconvos.com but not to worry, we’ll have all the old posts and comments from here moved there as well.  Also, you can look forward to a whole lot more on the new site. We’ll be introducing some new categories, new writers, more giveaways and of course, events.

What better way to leave here than serving y’all with one last giveaway? In respect to our Muslim readers currently observing the month of Ramadan, the usual Wet Fridays category will take a break for a while but not to worry, trust us to always keep you engaged. Today, I bring to you, a post supported by the good people at Tactics IQ as part of their activities towards the Season 3 of the Soccer Fiesta billed to hold from 12noon at the Campos Mini Stadium Lagos Island tomorrow. Today’s post is for the blog jacking category. It’s taken from one of my blogging mentors, Dr. J. from that site we all love so much Single Black Male. Enjoy.

******

Babe,

You know that I appreciate you. I appreciate you so much. I enjoy talking to you, spending time with you, and just generally spending afternoons on the couch snuggled up with you reading a good book. We both have busy schedules so I know that most weekdays we hardly speak with the exception of hi and bye, and getting ready for bed in the evening. Friday nights we usually make time to grab dinner and Saturdays are usually filled with errands or attending functions that we’ve both been invited to attend as a couple. Sundays are our day. And I think that most couples would agree, Sunday is that day that you can spend with your significant other and everything is perfect. Sunday hugs, kisses, naps, and a good movie are the way to go.

Because I really appreciate that time with you, it pains me that I regret to inform you, that football is starting. This may be hard for you to understand and that’s why I took this time to write you this letter. I thought you would appreciate me getting my feelings out on paper.

I only get two days a week to watch football (well, except when the Champions League begins) because it only airs weekends. Football starts at noon on Saturday, but lasts until Sunday evening. Let me explain, it’s because the games are so great that as men we cheer for an encore even if it kills us. I need this time, this time reminds me that I’m a man and that manly blood runs through my veins.

Also, several of my friends will come over to watch games, or we may go to a sports bar. If I’m not in attendance I will be considered a bad friend and my manhood will undoubtedly be questioned. They will think that while men are being men, I’m probably locked in house with a blanket and hot tea watching a romantic movie. And babe, I love those movies, but I don’t love it when my boys laugh at me.

As it pertains to logistics, I’d like to discuss a few things. I’m an Arsenal fan, and although you may not like Arsenal, it would probably be best if you went ahead and acted like you did. I get emotional. My fan hood is deeply rooted and not easily moved. Anything you say, I probably already know, and have known for some time now. For example, “Baby the man just said Arsenal haven’t won a trophy in six seasons?! Is that a good thing?” That’s only going to make it worse. Don’t add salt to open wounds, just do what I do. And when I’m upset, just pat me on the back and tell me to keep drinking my beer.

If I have people over to my apartment for a game while you’re here, please be a great host. I would like to be as helpful as possible; however, my time is limited because I’m expected to be sitting in the living room watching the games at all times. I will need you to be in charge of taking orders, ordering food, serving food and providing beverages for everyone. This will be a lot easier for you if you buy the booze on Fridays when we’re out running errands. If being in the kitchen while the guys are watching the games bothers you, I’ve heard that some women take up hobbies such as cooking homemade shawarmas or perfecting the perfect chicken wings. There are several recipes online, feel free to try it out. I’ll be your guinea pig. (Kisses.)

During halftime is when most guys will break to call their girlfriends, wives, or sidepieces. Some guys will need a few more minutes just to get up to speed on fantasy scores. However, this is a good time for us to spend about 15 minutes together. And I can’t think of a better place to be doing that than in the bedroom. Yes, sex at halftime is BAWSE! It’s our way of staying connected and it’s also a stress reliever.

I’m glad I took the time to sit down and write you this letter. I feel so much better now that I’ve gotten this off my chest. I was so worried that you would be upset, but I think that now that I’ve expressed my feelings to you, you’ll understand 100%. If you want to talk about this later, please let me know, I’m always open to talking to you and hearing your thoughts. Lastly, know that, football only runs from August until May. (That’s 10 measly months!) Later we’ll discuss midweek football, but it shouldn’t be a problem at all, since you’ll be used to it by then, however we should talk about it just in case. Talk to you soon!

With Love and Admiration,

Your Honey Bunches of Oats

****

There you go. I’m sure a lot of guys reading will thank me for this post. As for the ladies, what will be your response to a letter like this sent to you from your boyfriend?

As for the giveaway, I have two tickets. They’ll go to the 10th and 20th people to tweet #TacticsIQsoccerFiesta to the twitter handle @TacticsIQ. Goodluck.

UPDATE:  PICTURES FROM #TNC1 ON Ynaija –>  http://j.mp/oa3xY1

Our Best Friends Wedding: Episode 12: El Capitano

This was not the expected outcome. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Not him, not any of the chosen 19.

Especially not Jade.

It had been a month since he’d done the nasty with Jade. The nasty.
How could he even call something so awesome by such a distant misnomer? “The nasty?” he thought. For it had been anything but. Life had to go on though.

Two days after he and Jade had hooked up, he’d gotten a call.
“Hi. Who’s speaking?”
A gruff voice. “It’s me.”
“Who?”
“Me. The Captain as I hear you all like to refer to me…” Charles’ blood paused in mid-flow as he tried to catch his breath.

“Ggggood evening,” Charles stuttered.
“Coward. You hear the voice of a real man and you start stammering.”

Ordinarily, Charles wouldn’t stand for such insults. Especially from someone with whom he’d had relatively little interaction. However, today he offered up no protests. He couldn’t deny to himself that he probably deserved it…

“You’re lucky you didn’t sleep with my wife all those years ago. You’d be missing your penis by now.” Charles eyes widened with fear. Life without a penis would be unthinkable.
“I’d never do that now. Never. What the hell men?”
“Good. Now what is this I hear you’ve done with Jade?” Silence. Very awkward. The Captain sighed loudly. Must be a horrible snorer, thought Charles. The Captain chose to continue:
“I heard about it and I’d like to ask: why?”
Why, Charles thought to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. Why? He spoke up: “I’ve been asking myself the same thing for a while now.”
“And what have you come up with?”
“Nothing worth saying, I assure you.” Again, the Captain sighed.
“You’re a man Charles. At least I hope you are. You have but one mandate: fix this. For all our sakes. Please.” And the line went dead.

Charles dropped the phone and ran his fingers through his hair, cursing under his breath as he did so.

Why? And had it been all worth it?

He brought out his writing pad and wrote at the top of a free page in bold type:

TO THE WOMEN I WRONGED.
He drew a crooked line underneath the words then he paused while staring into the ceiling. He looked down, fighting tears,
and continued to write…

Midway through, he stopped again. He pulled his phone out and began typing a message with a wry smile on his face:
“I think we’re all clear babe. All clear.”
A few moments later, with his eyes glued to the handset the whole time, a notification came up: “Delivered: Eno.” He maintained the wry smile and went back to writing…

********************

It seemed out of the blue, surreal even, when his phone rang and he saw her name on the screen. He held his breath and counted to five before he picked it…
“Hey. Guess you’re all still mad at me…” Her chirpy voice cut him off.
“No, you numbskull! You’re not that important!” That admission stung Charles but the brightness in her voice told him that the ugliness between them might be at an end.
“Alright, Kemi. What’s up?” He sounded drained. Defeated.
“Don’t be such a whiner. Ahn ahn, who stole your cookies? Don’t sound so beaten up jo! Look I have info. Serious info. It’s about Jade.” Charles perked up. The emotional rollercoaster was becoming a bit much for him to handle.
“Go on,” he said.
“Well… It appears you weren’t the only one she screwed or was screwing as it is.”
“Uh huh…” He answered,
“Yeah… Well… Jade’s kinda pregnant right now.”
“Holy Geronimo! Wh-wh-wh-whaat?! How pregnant? Ho-wh-whe…?!”
“The Captain WAS right. You DO stutter under pressure! Hold your horses. It’s not yours. Thankfully.”
“Thankfully,” he repeated. Right then, Charles didn’t know what to feel.
“But that’s only part of the gist o…” She continued. “The guy responsible, Mayowa, is keen and it seems your little mixer with Jade the other day straightened her out. Helped her understand her feelings. Charles are you there?”
“I’m here.” He muttered,
“So the major gist I called to give you is this…” Charles braced himself and sighed.
“What?”

“Our best friend is getting married!!!”

********

Hey people. We’re up to the final episode. You won’t want to miss out next week… If you haven’t been following the series, use this link here to read the previous episodes. OBFW is jointly written by @cikk0 and I and we’d like to say a huge thank you to the guys at Barows 21 for sponsoring it. Now to today’s magazine giveaway.

Which episode did Charles use the following term:  “Fuckiddy  wow!”?  The first person to give the right answer wins. Please remember to comment with an original email address. Also, past winners are not allowed to participate in the competition holding the week after theirs. Good luck.

Soar or plummet.

Have you ever heard of how the female eagle selects a mate for herself? She picks a twig, flies very high into the sky and drops it. The male eagles would then scramble to get the twig and bring it to her. Take a minute to think about it, imagine six male eagles scrambling high in the sky trying to pick a little twig that can break under the slightest pressure. The peculiar aspect of this ‘mating ritual’ is that the female eagle does this same thing over and over again. So how does she finally pick? The first male eagle that gets a twig three times, yup, bingo.
I find this ritual very interesting. Why? Most male eagles can probably get one of her twigs once right? But she is smart enough to realize this, so she runs the test a few more times to ensure she not only gets the one who is strong or smart enough but also, the male eagle who is patient enough.
If only humans would build up on some of their more useful animal instincts. Every animal has a form of mating ritual with which they pick their mates. These rituals sometimes produce the only mate that animal will ever have. This got me wondering about human beings, and our mating rituals. A female eagle can find a perfect mate in one day if she’s lucky enough to find a male eagle ready to put in what is required. However sometimes, the eagle’s mating ritual lasts days or even weeks simply because she won’t settle for less.
Let’s try to put together a mating ritual for humans based on ‘current’ general knowledge. Boy meets girl, boy throws a few gifts, recharge cards, BIS activation fees e.t.c around, boy says some things about how he has never liked a woman as much, used to be a player but ‘u don make him fall in love’ and just like that – MATE. Just like that, she ordains him Commander in Chief of her honeypot. Things go south a few days or if she’s lucky weeks or months later and it’s on to the next one while she continues to amass soldiers and in the process loosing her dignity.
The female eagle (what is a female eagle called by the way?) on the other hand, recognizes the VERY important things; most male eagles are probably smart or strong enough to come after her but will they all be patient enough to endure her test? Any other guy who is averagely good looking, financially stable and confident enough can walk up to try to woo you but only a guy who has reasonably good intentions will hang on long enough through various forms of tests to eventually have you (well, either that or he’s a really twisted psycho)

I’m sure some of you are already asking if this isn’t some form of fronting. Well, I really don’t think it is. I think our female eagle takes her time because she wants to pick out that male eagle strong enough to beat his competition, smart enough to pick the twig in such a way that it won’t snap and then patient enough to do this over and over again. I tried checking up to see if this process is usually for a life mate or female eagles are also fond of changing mates after a few romps in their nest but I couldn’t really find an answer. Whatever the case may be, even for something as ‘not-so-long-term’ as sex, I think we, as humans with particular emphasis on the females need to re-evaluate our mating rituals. I’m no expert and I’m certainly not trying to impose my opinions here, I’m merely comparing notes. It’s your choice… be the eagle or be the woman.

PS: A female eagle is called a hen-eagle!

*****

Well, there you go people. I edited this piece, which was originally written by a friend @onome_umukoro. Talking points? What are your mating rituals? Can we learn anything from the hen-eagle? And for the guys, how would you react to a girl that makes your work like the hen-eagle for something not-so-long-term as sex? Use the comment box and speak your mind. Cheers.

His name was Ayo.

His name was Ayo. I’ve always had a thing for Ayos because my first ‘love’ (and I use that term loosely) was Ayo.

But this Ayo was different from the first. He was way smarter. I like smart guys. I like smart guys a lot.

I remember the first time I saw him. Lape and I were taking the long walk home from the estate gate back home. His car paused beside us.

“Can I drop you guys off? I’m new on your street..” Or something of that sort. We got in. He did mention Jola’s name (my big sis) and Biodun’s too (our cousin). I sat next to him in front because, well, I’m older.

He asked us random questions about the estate and its social activities. I think we depressed him with our replies. He was moving from Adeniyi Jones where he’d lived all his life to our boring estate in Magodo.

“Are you guys doing anything later? My friend’s doing something. If you wanna come with…?”

We didn’t go.

I went to school and forgot about him till I got back. By this time, Jola had formed a very strong friendship with him. Not just Jola. But my parents too. He became the guy who was like a brother; the one that would make them relax when they heard we were with him.

He was our Ayo.

Jola tried her hand at match-making. But I wasn’t down for it.

“Nah.. I like Ayo and all, but he’s not my type.” I would say to her.

I lied. He was exactly my type. He was incredibly smart, witty. He got me. He knew and loved my music. Our conversations were wonderful.

But. Ayo wasn’t pretty.

Ayo had a big nose and he didn’t care much about his appearance. He wore all these old baggy suits (he had an explanation for this; something about where he was working) and just didn’t care.

And so I rejected it, denied it.

He became so involved in our lives that all my best friends came to know him.

“I think Ayo likes you…” Some said.
“And you know you guys would fit oh…” Others would say.

I didn’t listen. Ayo came for my graduation. He bought me a necklace. Yes, that necklace. The one I never part with. That I’ve been wearing faithfully for over two years.

I didn’t think he’d buy it. In one of those moments when I proclaim my desires “I want a white Range!” Or “I want to live in a wooden cabin in the green jungle!” I had pointed out a similar necklace in a Style magazine. “I want that necklace!”

Well, Ayo bought it. I have spent a good deal of this past year just staring at it. A friend versed in these things estimated it at ‘quite expensive’.

Ayo was the only person asides office people and family that I saw on my birthday. He made the long journey from his office to mine, so I wouldn’t have to use the BRT home. (Never mind his car broke down and we had to wait over an hour to fix it.)

I remember telling Anna that I would marry Ayo. That I just knew it in my belly that he was the one. That when I was older and realized he didn’t need to have a great face and hot body, that I’d capitulate.

It happened on a normal day. He was at ours some evening when he told us he’d quit his job. He’d been saying it for a while but I never took him seriously. He was serious this time.

“But why?” He shrugged.

Mother came home. And randomly asked. “When are you going for your Masters? We’re considering putting off Biola’s own till after Youth Service.”

Ayo had looked down before saying- “I’m leaving on Friday.” This was Tuesday.

I looked up in shock. Ade was smiling. He’d known all along. (He’s daddy’s P.A. Very annoying fellow!) Lape was as shocked as I was, glory be!

I picked my sandals which I’d carelessly flung somewhere and without saying a word, I climbed the stairs to my room.

I had a long bath. I wasn’t thinking anything.

Lape knocked. “Ayo is leaving.. Come say goodbye.”

“Tell him I said he should have a good life.” I replied.

A few minutes later, I got a text. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

But Jola had known. And Ade had known. Wasn’t I important?

I didn’t speak to him till Thursday evening. Lape didn’t understand why I was making such a big deal out of it. “He shaa told us finally.” She kept on saying.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand that this news was making me confront some things I’d rather have left in peace.

Like how I felt about Ayo. About why I wanted to cry.

He sat next to me Friday evening. His flight was late that night. We were trading songs on our phones. We said mostly nothing. I’m sure the tension wasn’t from just me.

When it was late enough, we all watched our parents pray for him before walking up the street to his house. We sat for another hour in front of his gate.

And when it was time to go. I hugged him. “Don’t forget us..” I whispered. “Never.” He said.

I think he knew. I know he knew.

Ayo left. And I cried. I cried alone. I cried in the bathroom when no one could see me cry. Because I was cold Biola. Biola doesn’t cry.

Now, with hindsight; I know that Ayo did not know. In fact, in his head, this story is told by him. And I’m the one who was clueless.

We’ve had one of those round-about conversations with a lot of ‘what-if’s dancing around. But we didn’t get to it. We left it as it is.

One of our conversations circled around the lyrics of ‘Lions, Tigers & Bears’. If you know it, you’d understand.

I’ve met smarter guys. Guys have bought me very expensive stuff. But Ayo is still Ayo to me.

We no longer talk as much. I expected this. But our conversations still leave me smiling.

I don’t know how to end this in a non-sappy way. So, I guess I should just end it here, eh?

Ok then. The End.

*************

Ok people. This story is slightly non-fiction. It might have happened to my cousin’s grandma’s friend’s nephew’s bestfriend. But I want to hear from you; is this cousin’s grandma’s friend’s nephew’s bestfriend the only one that has let go of something that coulda been phenomenal based on something so flighty? Not necessarily in looks; maybe you never tried with that guy because he didn’t have a car? Or because she’s igbo? Or because he’s shorter than you? Or she has four fingers on her left hand?

Or just because you’re a chicken?

Am I alone? Share with me.

Tell a tale.

Hey people. Whew. I really don’t know how to thank y’all for making #TNC1 a huge success. I must say I was overwhelmed and I’d like to appreciate everyone who turned up. I have to give a special s/o to our sponsors: Barows21, Naledis Clothing, Ayaba as well as our panelists, our wonderful host, Gbemi Olateru-Olagbegi and also @otegaogra who kept people updated via twitter.

For those who missed it, you can catch up on what went down by searching for the event hashtag #TNC1 on twitter. We’ll also have pictures and possibly videos up later this week.

Ok, so, it’s almost 2am here and as much as I would like to take a break today, I have decided not to. Instead, I’m going to do something I’ve wanted to do for a while now. I have a folder on my system where I throw in stuff I don’t think is good enough for blog. From time to time, I’m going to be posting stuff from that folder just so you guys know we’re not writing demigods here. So here goes… Kindly share your comments, disses and the likes using the comment box. Cheers.

*********

It’s all about fairy tales today. Snow white had the dwarves, Cinderella had the fairy Godmother, Aladdin had a genie. If you were given a piece of paper and pen and asked to write a fairy tale for yourself, how would it go? Will you start out poor, widowed or as an orphan? Will there be a villain and a hero? Or lets even make things more interesting, how about if you could remix a fairy tale? How would it go? Hmmm…

*****

This is the story of a girl named Rahpunzo and it starts with the sun.

Now, once upon a time, a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens and from this small drop of sun grew a magic green plant. It had the ability to erm… well, make people feel good.

Somehow, a depressed, single, bitter, horny and dreadlocked 40-something year old woman stumbled on the magical green plant. Years passed and a kingdom emerged around the area. The kingdom was ruled by a beloved king and queen. And the queen was about to have a baby but then she got depressed. Like really really depressed (from boredom of course). Her depression started affecting her pregnancy so much, she started looking really sick and that’s when the king and other citizens began to look for miracles or in this case, a magic green plant.

You see, instead of sharing the suns gift, the bitter woman whose name was Mother Gagoo, hoarded its feel good power. She also realized the plant made her dreads look cooler and all she had to do was sing a special song.

****

baby mi show colour e…

Yellow model cheese

Yellow model sipping

Yellow lamborghini

yellow top missing..

****

look at me now.

look t me now … oh

fresh than a mother fo

(s/o to @kidkonnect for this remix)

*****

All right you get the gist, she sings to it, her dreadlocks straighten out, look cooler than Whoppi Goldberg’s … cool right?

Gagoo grew careless with the plant and the people eventually found it. Not knowing what to do with it, the kingdoms only doctor prepared the plant for the queen. All he did really was chop it up a little and wrap it up in some parchment paper for the queen to light up. The magic of the green plant made the queen ‘feel good’ again.

A healthy baby girl, a princess was born with beautiful dreadlocks. They named her Rahpunzo.

To celebrate her birth, the king and queen ordered the KEPA (Kingdom Electric Power Authority) to leave the lights on for a whole day, even for people who owed. Before that one moment, everything was perfect. And then that moment ended. Gagoo broke into the Kings villa, stole the princess and just like that – she was gone. The people of the kingdom searched and searched but they could not find the princess.

But deep in the Okija forest, in a hidden tower, Gagoo raised the child as her own. Gagoo had found her new magic plant. All she had to do was hold the baby before a fireplace, take in deep breaths and it had the same effect as singing to the plant. This time however, she was determined to keep the child hidden.

“Why can’t I go outside Mama.”

“The outside world is a dangerous place filled with horrible selfish people. You must stay here where you’re safe, do you understand ganja (a petname she often called Rahpunzo)?”

“Yes Mama.”

But the walls of that tower could not hide everything. Each year on her birthday, the king and queen commanded KEPA to flicker the lights all through the night in hope that one-day, their lost princess would notice the sign and return.