<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509</id><updated>2012-01-24T22:08:52.753-08:00</updated><category term='blog amebo'/><category term='irony'/><category term='yes'/><category term='swing'/><category term='quirks'/><category term='mosquitos'/><category term='financial empowerment'/><category term='neighbour'/><category term='guilt'/><category term='mominto'/><category term='tag'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='all'/><category term='eggs'/><category term='apt test'/><category term='earthquake'/><category term='nervousness'/><category term='more money'/><category term='me back'/><category term='ranting'/><category term='sex'/><category term='cupid'/><category term='cost'/><category term='job'/><category term='Leadership'/><category term='beefing'/><category term='bank'/><category term='whatever'/><category term='flavours'/><category term='chop money'/><category term='not'/><category term='HR'/><category term='mom'/><category term='loving'/><category term='cake'/><category term='be daring'/><category term='rice'/><category term='innocence'/><category term='pics'/><category term='man'/><category term='math'/><category term='andy'/><category term='jam'/><category term='me'/><category term='gists'/><category term='proverb'/><category term='reality'/><category term='trousers'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='slow'/><category term='undies'/><category term='random'/><category term='party'/><category term='at'/><category term='moderation'/><category term='envy'/><category term='Nigeria'/><category term='clueless'/><category term='life'/><category term='wellsbaba'/><category term='boring'/><category term='star star star star super star'/><category term='bros'/><category term='awry gone job'/><category term='interview'/><category term='a million times'/><category term='african magic'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='Bella'/><category term='scrambled'/><category term='ejura continues'/><category term='wondering'/><category term='dates'/><category term='religion'/><category term='china'/><category term='fool'/><category term='low self esteem'/><category term='Ghana'/><category term='love'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>ejura continues</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm not there yet but I'm on my way...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-230799285677236450</id><published>2009-04-13T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T15:52:54.670-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me back'/><title type='text'>me back, kind of...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SeO-l84ShFI/AAAAAAAAALE/CYKH2i5XM-A/s1600-h/090320092653.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SeO-l84ShFI/AAAAAAAAALE/CYKH2i5XM-A/s320/090320092653.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324308743688717394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey folks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always been but just not on the scene.And no those spectacles aren't mine! I'm still modern and chic and sassy and ejuralized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've missed you all-reading all those funny articles, true life bits and rants...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I've been having fun as well...so many things have happened to me...e.g:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I just discovered I have a half sister. She's three months younger than me and I think our hair textures are alike. She also has the gap teeth so I guess there is no need for DNA testing anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My relationship with AR will be a year old on the 18th of April.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I cut my hair short again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I lost weight and dropped to 55kg. I embarked on a crash add -weight -back-diet and now I am at 57kg! Pretty cool! It took me just four days to do this. [Easter break]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I've been thinking more and more about getting married and having my own kids&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Thinking of having my gap closed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Thinking of going for my masters (suggestions anyone? Good affordable schools in the UK? Me mah wan jand!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How have you all been? LG? Princesa? Afro? Aloofar? Standtall? FQ?...So many names swimming in my mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night peeps!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-230799285677236450?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/230799285677236450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=230799285677236450' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/230799285677236450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/230799285677236450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2009/04/me-back-kind-of.html' title='me back, kind of...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SeO-l84ShFI/AAAAAAAAALE/CYKH2i5XM-A/s72-c/090320092653.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-6058366556546326899</id><published>2008-11-30T08:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T08:40:09.781-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='star star star star super star'/><title type='text'>ejura the Star!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Hi Peeps! I've missed you all so badly. It feels like centuries! I can read a lot of you have been having loads of fun and even giving each other awards. Nobody game me anything!!!!! I demand an award NOW!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've been busy but also kinda having fun. First of all I came 2nd best overall at the end of the bank's training school. A round of applause somebody! &lt;br /&gt;Your home girl with a BA French caught on so fast on the accounting and mathematics stuff that she shut out like a rocket. &lt;br /&gt;Is anyone asking why I didn't come first? Well, obviously someone beat me to it and it's fine cos she was also a girl and a friend of mine. So it was perfect! The girls told the guys what time it was. I'm wondering though-are girls more intelligent than guys or something? Womankind always seem to do better at academics than mankind. Bros make una no vex oh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at the end of the training school, we were asked to come up with a presentation for our graduation ceremony abi na P.O.P.&lt;br /&gt;I so kicked against it because my colleagues wanted us to sing and act a drama and stuff. I thought it was childish and foolish and unnecessary and humiliating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what's that they say? If you can't beat em, you join em. And that's exactly what your girl did. I participated in performing this song written by another colleague and I took the tenor part. I even formed the intro for it. We performed it before our audience and we got some good applause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to last week. I received a call asking me and the rest of us who performed the song to report to the bank's headquarters. We got there and we were told that they kinda liked the song and would like us to have it produced in the studio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all excited about it and were taken to the studio where naeto c did his "kini big deal" and where Nice did his "street sensibility" and where...It was a beautiful experience. I felt like a star for a few hours. I was a star!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were about to leave when my name was called and I was asked to wait behind. I was asked to do a voice over for a product! I was given this script to read and had to do it all in 35 seconds. Trust your girl now! I did it to the p! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was done, the producer took down my number and asked me if I had ever considered a career in the media. And it's funny cos I have always been ashamed of my voice. It's always been little and kinda too soft. I never believed it had serious potential but here I am thrown unto a path I never imagined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And trust me, e good well well to dey watch american film. E day help phonetics no be small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see folks, I am a star! A bank Star!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, don't you honestly think I deserve that award making the rounds in blogville?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-6058366556546326899?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/6058366556546326899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=6058366556546326899' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/6058366556546326899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/6058366556546326899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/11/ejura-star.html' title='ejura the Star!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3109478098844342785</id><published>2008-09-26T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T16:22:48.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Be careful where you go to cos u just might get it...</title><content type='html'>Read this in the papers:&lt;br /&gt;Two lovers met their deaths while rolling in the hay on a train track in South Africa!According to the story,the train driver said he kept sounding his horn as he approached them but they were either both deaf or too caught up in the throes of passion to care.They died making love.What a way to go!  &lt;br /&gt;The story's sad but it did crack me up some.The moral in the story?Why,it's to tone down the need for adventure.A railway track will never make a good bed no matter how imaginative one is.Even animals know this or have you ever seen dogs mate on the tracks?&lt;br /&gt;Rest in peace lovers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3109478098844342785?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3109478098844342785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3109478098844342785' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3109478098844342785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3109478098844342785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/09/be-careful-where-you-go-to-cos-u-just.html' title='Be careful where you go to cos u just might get it...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-4710851501841961542</id><published>2008-09-13T04:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T04:35:22.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A kiss for you all...</title><content type='html'>I think I need to go buy more suits. Yes, I do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cos guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my letter from the bank yesterday. I was so scared when I went to their office. And as I sat in the waiting room, I kept praying, asking God to be kind to me, afraid to breath and at the same time calm in this strange way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told myself that the worse that could happen was that I wouldn't get the job and the best that could happen was that I'd get it. Two simple sides to my coin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When one of their staff came in with my letter, I was so thrilled and full of thanks to God.&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I think I am going to celebrate this victory quietly at the moment, so I am going easy on the CNN. Once bitten, twice shy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides I don't get to start until say, next month or even later.&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime,I'd be holidaying at home and hopefully gaining some little weight in the right places. So if any of you needs a baby sitter, give Ejura a call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for all your support and cyber hugs and kisses. It's funny how people you don't even know can cyber affect your life in one way or the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really blessed to cyber know you all.&lt;br /&gt;A gap toothed kiss from me to you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mwah!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-4710851501841961542?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/4710851501841961542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=4710851501841961542' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4710851501841961542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4710851501841961542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/09/kiss-for-you-all.html' title='A kiss for you all...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3861871446197668717</id><published>2008-09-11T04:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T04:53:35.030-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='awry gone job'/><title type='text'>The Belgians showed me the door...ouch!</title><content type='html'>I’m sorry to humbly announce that I didn’t get the job at the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, the Belgians sent me an email that read like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“…I’m sorry your application was not successful. However, since you did very well in the linguistic and psychological test, we have filed your CV in our data base and shall contact you once there is an opening.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart stopped for a second when I read this mail. I mean this people called me twice to tell me congratulations! Told me they needed to fill the positions urgently and so I should get ready to resume in September. I had an interview with the ambassador himself who gave me the job description, told me what hours I’d be working and even revealed the salary package to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He however said something that confused me. He said:&lt;br /&gt;“I’d let you know if you are successful”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I asked him what that meant because from what I was told the job was already mine and I was to resume in the first week of September. And he explained by saying that they needed four people at the embassy but he needed one person to work with him. And what he meant was that he was going to interview all four of us and pick the most suitable one for him. The other three will work in the other departments nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the deal was “Anyway you look at it, you have a place with us.” So if the ambassador didn’t think me fit enough what happened to the other three positions? When we called [me and  another successful candidate] them last week, they told us they were throwing a send forth party for the ones leaving and would contact us immediately everything had been concluded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now this…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have resigned from my present employer. Bad move right? I’m not sure because I wasn’t exactly happy there. I was underpaid and under appreciated but over used. They still owe me money they have no intention of paying. How do I continue there when I am so unhappy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still some think I shouldn’t have resigned and blame me for my stupidity. Throw the stones at me…I can’t undo what I did even though my boss still wants me back. I’m too shocked and…I’ve been asking God why. What went wrong? What didn’t I do right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the bank offer? Well, it’s my last visible card. But then I don’t know…there may be some cards in places I just can’t see now.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I would find them and bounce back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar has been sweet to me and I couldn’t have gone through the whole thing without him.&lt;br /&gt;I thank God for him so much right now.&lt;br /&gt;As for Belgium, it has been ruled out as one of my honey moon destinations…as for Caucasians, they aren’t any better than blacks…As for God, only He can keep to His words so much so that even if He lies [Which is impossible], that lie becomes truth because He is so bound to/by His words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me a cyber hug, advice, criticism…I’m open to it all…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I’m sorry I haven’t done my blog rounds. I will once I sort this all out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3861871446197668717?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3861871446197668717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3861871446197668717' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3861871446197668717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3861871446197668717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/09/belgians-showed-me-doorouch.html' title='The Belgians showed me the door...ouch!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-8776963110224713461</id><published>2008-08-30T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T10:31:45.463-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='andy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='job'/><title type='text'>I'm still around oh!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>So you punked me Andy! That was so unfair! There I was thinking Naeto C  actually had a crush on me. Get ready Janet Jackson is about to call you!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no, I am not in training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is...ok, I got this job at an embassy, to be like the ambassador's P.A. The job requires a lot of French language since the country is a French speaking country. They speak German and Dutch too. Have you guessed the country yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I resign from my marketing researcher job and now my boss wouldn't let me leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's also the bank job I got.&lt;br /&gt;I am in a job maze and looking for the right way out.&lt;br /&gt;I need guidance and I have been asking God for it. The thing is I am sure I know what to do but the courage to make a decision and be ready to bear the consequences no matter how it turns out fails me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, my love life is good so in that I find some solace. I'd have crumbled like a cookie otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;God is faithful.&lt;br /&gt;Share your thoughts with me. Whatever it is. Cheer me up some.&lt;br /&gt;Take care peeps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-8776963110224713461?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/8776963110224713461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=8776963110224713461' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8776963110224713461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8776963110224713461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-still-around-oh.html' title='I&apos;m still around oh!!!!!!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-1474140106795823671</id><published>2008-08-11T10:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T10:54:33.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mwah!!</title><content type='html'>Ah, nobody don arrest me oh! Wellsbaba take your time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've missed blogville especially your sense of humour-all of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No worry, I'd be back soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd gist you all that's been happening with me as soon as I get the chance to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much love amigos!&lt;br /&gt;Mwah!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-1474140106795823671?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/1474140106795823671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=1474140106795823671' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1474140106795823671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1474140106795823671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/08/mwah.html' title='Mwah!!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-2316750078727317781</id><published>2008-07-28T01:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T01:45:14.027-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bella'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='all'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beefing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='at'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not'/><title type='text'>For the record</title><content type='html'>I am not &lt;strong&gt;beefing&lt;/strong&gt; Bella Adenuga oh! I have &lt;strong&gt;NO&lt;/strong&gt; beef with her. That post wasn't about comparing myself with Bella Adenuga for any personal reason &lt;em&gt;[I hardly know her!]&lt;/em&gt; but about looking for the differences between the rich and the poor. And the truth is that when it comes down to it, there isn't much difference between the two or three-that is if you add the middle class to it. We all are made of the same fabric. What makes the difference is the financial success one group has that is obviously missing in the other.&lt;br /&gt;Bella Adenuga was just em, what's it called, the prototype of the rich while I am a prototype of an individual who also wants to enjoy some level of financial success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see a vendor holding out a paper that reads : &lt;strong&gt;Stella dies for love!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You buy the paper because you want to know what it is all about. You're wondering how she died for love, how it killed her. You rush to page 22 and hope to see an obituary announcement but instead you find an interview. You read through the interview and find a question asked by the interviewer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"So Stella, it seems you are a hopeless romantic..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our Stella replies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Oh yes, I will not deny it. I can die for love."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it suddenly occurs to you that you were just duped of a 100 naira by a Paper all because you saw a catchy line that appealed to your curiosity. The media knows catchy lines work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have titled the post : &lt;em&gt;Bill Gates farts&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;Oprah picks her nose&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;Tyra Banks has pimples too&lt;/em&gt;. Etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't all that much more catchy than :&lt;em&gt; "Why is Bella Adenuga rich and I am not?"&lt;/em&gt; or &lt;em&gt;"Difference between the rich and the poor"&lt;/em&gt; or &lt;em&gt;"I want to make money!" &lt;/em&gt;or...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still I apologise to anyone that was hurt on her behalf. I have &lt;strong&gt;NO BEEF&lt;/strong&gt; with her. As a matter of fact, I admire all she stands for &lt;em&gt;[I won't mind standing on that platform too].&lt;/em&gt; In future I will &lt;strong&gt;try&lt;/strong&gt; to use more normal titles. In the event that I do not succeed in &lt;strong&gt;trying&lt;/strong&gt;...blame it on the media streak. We gotta sell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bottom line:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;We all shit. The difference is one does so in a diamond plated toilet, the other in a floral tiled one and the other in a pit latrine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Enough of the shit talk already. Enjoy a great week ahead...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-2316750078727317781?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/2316750078727317781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=2316750078727317781' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2316750078727317781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2316750078727317781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/for-record.html' title='For the record'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-2913892778747890498</id><published>2008-07-25T03:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T04:01:18.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Djimon Hounsou set for a sequel?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Kids in Congo were being sent down mines to die so that kids in Europe and America could kill imaginary aliens in their living rooms"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blood Diamond 2? Read full story &lt;a href="http://videogames.yahoo.com/feature/playstation-2-component-incites-african-war/1231745"&gt;here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great weekend peeps! I'm kinda under the weather today. Aunty flo just fell out of it.&lt;br /&gt;Take care and be good!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-2913892778747890498?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/2913892778747890498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=2913892778747890498' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2913892778747890498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2913892778747890498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/nothing-happen.html' title='Djimon Hounsou set for a sequel?'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-4219832899909837228</id><published>2008-07-21T07:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T07:55:54.537-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='be daring'/><title type='text'>Check this out!</title><content type='html'>Ø      &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;The chief engineer of the British post office said in 1876: “We don’t need a telephone, we &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;          have plenty messenger boys.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ø      In 1943, the chairman of IBM, Thomas Watson, predicted a world market for just five&lt;br /&gt;         computers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ø      &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;The chief engineer of IBM in 1968 commented about a microchip: “But what good is it for?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ø      Gordon Moore, co founder of Intel said in 1970 that home computers would be a waste of&lt;br /&gt;         time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ø      &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Both Atari and Hewlett-Packard turned down the idea of a personal computer presented   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;         by the developers of Apple and told them to go back to college.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ø      The great Bill Gates forecast in 1981 that personal computer memory of 640k should be&lt;br /&gt;         enough for anybody.&lt;br /&gt;                                                  Culled from &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;How to make money out of thin air&lt;/em&gt;" by Brian Sher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Added by me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The first woman Jim Ovia asked out chased him away with a pestle saying he didn't have a bank account. Lol!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-4219832899909837228?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/4219832899909837228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=4219832899909837228' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4219832899909837228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4219832899909837228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/check-this-out.html' title='Check this out!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-147428190383871545</id><published>2008-07-15T04:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T07:30:46.037-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='more money'/><title type='text'>Bella Adenuga shits</title><content type='html'>So what's the difference between Bella Adenuga and me? I can't seem to find any except that she is so rich and I am not.&lt;br /&gt;What similarities do we share?&lt;br /&gt;Ok, let's see, she shits, I shit. She picks her nose, I do too but usually not in public. She farts, I fart especially in my room. She pees, I pee too-like 10 times in a day when I am extremely cold. We both fix hair extensions seeing we are not blessed with the long flowing manes of our Caucasian sisters. I'd rather braid my hair any day though than fix a weave.&lt;br /&gt;We're pretty much alike in all regards save for the money thing. So why does she have so much money and I don't? What's the issue here? Am I missing something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Ejura are you insane? Her dad's almighty Mike Adenuga! One of the wealthiest men in Africa. What are you talking about you little fly! She's just lucky to be his daughter is all. You could have been his daughter too if you fell into his wife's uterus you know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so she has had the privilege of starting life with a diamond spoon in her mouth. But did they always have diamond spoons? Is there a possibility that somewhere in the Adenuga lineage there was a wooden spoon? No make that a clay spoon or even a chewing stick. Isn't it true that for every shadow we sit beneath, someone planted a tree?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Ejura, don't be silly. She is a rich man's child and nothing can change that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so maybe I should be comparing myself instead with Mike Adenuga himself since I intend to be the wealthy mother of a rich child...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to plant my tree now! I'm going to plant my tree. I need a seed because I am determined not to plant just any tree but an oak tree. Yes. One that big and strong that would supply shade for years and years to come. So I need the right seed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Ejura, this world is not your home oh. You're a Christian. Why such a passionate desire to be wealthy? Ehn? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend's dad once told her &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"We are not meant to make money. Just be content with what you have and thank God that you even have at all."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin's dad said to her: &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"What do you need a job that pays a hundred and something naira monthly for? Stay here and be content with the 6,000 naira you earn. The world is full of evil."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hold my head in my hands and wail at this type of thinking. What?!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any idea just how wealthy God is?&lt;br /&gt;I am going to make money. I would make it but it shall not control me. I would make it with honest work and wise investments.&lt;br /&gt;So tell me, what are the secrets of the Adenugas? What are the secrets of the rich and mighty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS:&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;People often have a funny attitude about money. They are quick to say that money doesn't mean a lot to them, but spend their lives working to get it. Why not admit that money is important, and that it is basic to living a good life, wonderful if rightly used?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Catherine Ponder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-147428190383871545?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/147428190383871545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=147428190383871545' title='58 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/147428190383871545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/147428190383871545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/bella-adenuga-shits.html' title='Bella Adenuga shits'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>58</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3357540420314342827</id><published>2008-07-14T03:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T05:03:38.046-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Leadership'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nigeria'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chop money'/><title type='text'>A million and something cowards</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"Cowardice asks: is it safe? Consensus asks: is it popular? Character asks: is it right" -Dr Martin Luther King Jr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I saw my neighbour's son running an errand recently and wondered why he wasn't in school until I remembered that teachers were still on strike. How sad. Anyway, yesterday I leafed through a paper and saw that the NASS is set to have their salaries reviewed. While the figures quoted by the paper is way too much for me to remember, I do recall seeing that a NASS member could hence forth go home with at least 10 million naira monthly. Not to mention all the other allowances!&lt;br /&gt;Now pitch that against what our teachers are asking for and what we get is the typical Animal Farm scenario!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"Our leaders are all thieves! Bloody thieves all of them! They just keep fattening their pockets while we suffer poverty and everything that comes with it!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to think that way too until I hung out with some friends recently. We were in this jeep belonging to a man who obviously digs one of my friends. The guy stops to see another friend of his, probably to discuss business, when one of my friends in front opens one of those storage compartments in cars and discovers there's lots of money in it.&lt;br /&gt;She exclaims: &lt;em&gt;Make una see money oh!&lt;/em&gt; And next thing I know, she pulls out some wads and starts sharing it to us at the back. She says &lt;em&gt;"Ejura take! Take now before he comes!"&lt;/em&gt; And I am so shocked by what is going on, I tell her &lt;em&gt;"No, I can't! It's not my money!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now go on to add that they didn't have to take his money when he could have given them some as &lt;em&gt;dash&lt;/em&gt; if they were patient enough to wait. And they tell me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Stay there! You don't know anything. Come make we teach you."&lt;/em&gt; [Paraphrase]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit back and don't say anything after that. The man gets back into his car and we hit the road again. He doesn't know what just happened and he obviously may not even miss the money but it sets me thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my friends and I can sit down dissing Nigerian leaders and how they only know how to &lt;em&gt;chop &lt;/em&gt;money on one page and on the next page, we deep our hands into someone else's purse and take what isn't ours, then what are we talking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people may laugh this off and say it's a case of  gurls just being gurls but these gurls, including me, nurse ambitions to become leaders in Nigeria tomorrow and if we can bat our lashes and help ourselves today from another man's purse, what will we do tomorrow when we actually occupy these leadership positions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many of us are truly different from these leaders huh? Why cast stones when we are buried in a heap of them ourselves?&lt;br /&gt;Ok, true, I didn't partake of the money with them but I couldn't stop them neither did I really air my views on the issue for fear it would turn into a cold war between my friends and I. Is that what I would do in a leadership position too? Choose friendship over what is right? Condone corruption, so I won't be the odd one out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know why God finished off a particular generation of the Israelites in the wilderness and didn't allow them get into the promise land? It was so they wouldn't bring their evil mentalities into the new land and corrupt the next generation. God wanted a clean slate for Israel. Now how do we get a clean slate for Nigeria?&lt;br /&gt;Did you say prayer is the key?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I do not in any way deny the power of prayer, I think this &lt;em&gt;"Nigerian spirituality"&lt;/em&gt; is also responsible for what is killing us. What would have happened to South Africa if Mandela and others like him chose to lock themselves up in their rooms to pray? What would have happened if Rosa Parks got up that seat in the bus and went back home to pray?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;What can I do? I am only one person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Alas! I share the cowardice of millions of other Nigerians like me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3357540420314342827?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3357540420314342827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3357540420314342827' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3357540420314342827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3357540420314342827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/million-and-something-cowards.html' title='A million and something cowards'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-5515462744326501903</id><published>2008-07-10T02:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T04:22:54.986-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='slow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clueless'/><title type='text'>I guess I'm just slow...</title><content type='html'>So I have always been the last one to learn the slang. I started using&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"fashi"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; when it was way out the door. I didn't understand what my sister meant when she talked about &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"pepper"&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;and even&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;"the koko"&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;kinda&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;took me unawares.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Code conversations with me and you've lost me. I can't even speak pidgin without people bursting into laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ejura e no fit you oh!"&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[I haven't given up on that language though.I love the way it sounds on people who have a flair for it].&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I was watching Sound City's Naeto-C's [sp?] album launch and I wondered why they were speaking the way they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"Yeah, men, we put the W in effect, you know what I mean, we in the house, ladies in the house, we bringing it down to the P. You know, it's Naeto-C and we hot like fire, we bringing on the shine, we bring sexy back..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably showbiz lingo and I catch the drift but at the same time I don't. &lt;em&gt;What's a W? What's the P? &lt;/em&gt;Plus it was my first time ever of hearing about Naeto-C. Ordinarily, I would have thought it was another brand of the Nutri-C drink. I am that clueless, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check me out with music. I really suck at it. When everyone was screaming &lt;em&gt;"No air"&lt;/em&gt;, I was wondering where the air went. When I got to hear the song, I wasn't still sure what people were raving about until recently when I started to feel it. Same with &lt;em&gt;"Irresistable"&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;"Bleeding heart or is it love-the one with the Lewis girl."&lt;/em&gt; When Nice came up with is it &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;"Kongwaso"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;[forgive my spelling],&lt;/em&gt; what I was hearing was &lt;em&gt;"Conductor"&lt;/em&gt; and I couldn't understand why people were so excited about it. I still don't know what it is but I guess it's got to be something for him to have been invited for Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday concert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over to blogville or the chatroom where I see things like &lt;em&gt;ROFLMAO [roll of from laughing my ass off?]&lt;/em&gt; or is it &lt;em&gt;LMAOMB [Laugh my ass off my body?]...&lt;/em&gt; I know I've got them all mixed up but that's because I don't really know what they mean. It beats me how people conceive these ideas. Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I shouted out to a friend as her car pulled off &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"Don't do what I wouldn't do gurl!"&lt;/span&gt; and she pokes her head out the window, shakes her head and says &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;"That's like doing nothing ever! I won't survive it!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; and I head back to my office laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it got me thinking later. Is my life so boring? Or do they perceive me boring from the stand point of what they imagine fun to be?&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am slow, socially slow maybe but I'm not sure I care...and if I do, maybe just a little...but at least I take consolation in the fact that my &lt;em&gt;"exciting fun filled"&lt;/em&gt; friends still love hanging out with boring me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I am not that bad afterall. Right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-5515462744326501903?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/5515462744326501903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=5515462744326501903' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/5515462744326501903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/5515462744326501903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-guess-im-just-slow.html' title='I guess I&apos;m just slow...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-1406492758930141983</id><published>2008-07-07T01:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T05:27:48.627-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='low self esteem'/><title type='text'>Cookie Monster</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHH99_lPRMI/AAAAAAAAAG0/VH5vRQmx9nU/s1600-h/awareverbal3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220232684580586690" style="WIDTH: 359px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px" height="235" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHH99_lPRMI/AAAAAAAAAG0/VH5vRQmx9nU/s320/awareverbal3.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She couldn't believe the image in the mirror as tears poured down her face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Careful now or you'd ruin your make up"&lt;/em&gt; The stylist advised touched by his client's reaction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I never knew I could look this beautiful...look at my brows, my skin so..."&lt;/em&gt; She broke down again making her masacara run.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Pull yourself together sweetheart cos at this rate you'd ruin your hair and your new clothes"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She turned to look at him dabbing at her eyes with the cotton handkerchief he had just handed her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Clothes?"&lt;/em&gt; Her money didn't cover for clothes. She'd only paid for facials, hair and make up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Yes dear, clothes with compliments from the style team-promotional stuff you know; please don't cry again."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She watched as his assistant wheeled in a cloth hanger with two different outfits. Willing herself to maintain her composure, she got up to feel the fabrics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Thank you so much"&lt;/em&gt; She kept saying over and over again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"It's ok dear. Let's get you dressed."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She stepped out of the beauty house that afternoon, feeling alive and with a new sense of purpose-a feeling she hadn't experienced in so long. Her tears threatened to drop but she couldn't let them right now. They would simply ruin her make up which would in turn ruin the effect she hoped to have on Cookie. It was his birthday and she had been planning this surprise for over a year now and nothing was going to spoil it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just then, a car pulled up infront of her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Can I give you a ride princess?"&lt;/em&gt; It was a dashing young man poking his head out the window.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"No but thank you"&lt;/em&gt; she said sincerely. He was the third man so far to gush over the new her and while it made her feel incredibly great she knew her beauty was for Cookie and Cookie alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"You're beautiful"&lt;/em&gt; he said as he drove off. The smile of delight on her face couldn't be helped.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just as she made to hail a cab, a woman, obviously in a rush, ran up to her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I've been watching you from the store over there and I think you may make us a great model. I'm kinda in a rush but here's my card. Give me a call."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She stood speechless as she turned the card in her hand, she was sure she'd died and gone to heaven. A modelling agency card? All in one day? This couldn't be happening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was an excited woman that got into a cab and headed home. Cookie was going to love the new her and she couldn't wait for him to see her. Now, she was sure he would love her like never before. He'd cherish her and fill her ears with sweet nothings just like he had done when they were still dating. She was so sure of it she smiled smugly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She paid the cabbie who winked at her before driving off. With eager steps she ran up to the front door and let herself in with her key. It was 6 pm and Cookie would be at the back yard smoking his cigarettes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She found him easily.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hi love!"&lt;/em&gt; Her voice wasn't as low as it used to be which shocked Cookie as he turned to look at her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She waited, holding her breathe while his eyes swept over her. She knew he was coming to give her a kiss when he walked over to her and pulled her close to him. Eyes closed, she reached for him when the slap across her face threw her back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her hand flew to her mouth where she found she was bleeding. The strange ring he always wore had wreaked havoc on her face again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Who gave you the permission to do this huh? Who?!"&lt;/em&gt; His voice thundered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I thought you'd like it"&lt;/em&gt; She explained stepping back from him. &lt;em&gt;"It's supposed to be a surprise tonight for your birthday, I thought you'd..." &lt;/em&gt;He didn't allow her finish as he pulled her by the hair, dragged her into the kitchen and pushed her against the counter where he tore off the skirt and the sexy underwear she had just been given by the beauty house. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I hate surprises and you know it or is this supposed to make me want you more? Make me love you tenderly tonight? You think this can change the way you look?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He pushed her legs apart as he undid his jeans and let it fall down his legs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I can love you passionately baby, hard and passionate. That's what you want right?" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He took her right there, against the counter, ramming her back into its cold marble edge, cussing as he moved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"You are worthless and ugly and will always be. Without me you are nothing. You need me. You need me! Say it you bitch! Say it!" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unshed tears burned in her throat as his frenzied thrusts pushed the sharp edge of the counter into her back, tearing her skin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I need you"&lt;/em&gt; Came her weak response. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Louder!"&lt;/em&gt; He ordered as he came. &lt;em&gt;"Louder bitch louder!"&lt;/em&gt; His fingers dug into her scalp, inflicting what they knew best to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I need you!"&lt;/em&gt; She had learned to obey him; the cost of disobedience was way too high.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Good girl"&lt;/em&gt; He cooed as he slipped out of her. &lt;em&gt;"What do you say?"&lt;/em&gt; He grabbed her face and drew it close to his.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I love you"&lt;/em&gt; She whimpered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Kiss me now"&lt;/em&gt; He ordered, his voice like steel and she did like the obedient dog that she was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Would you leave me ever?"&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She shook her head vehemently.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I want to hear you say it"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"No, never, never!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Why?"&lt;/em&gt; He'd unbuttoned her blouse now, staring at her new bra. &lt;em&gt;"Why?!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Because you'd kill me if I do"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Good bitch" He &lt;/em&gt;pushed her aside and made for the door where he paused. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes, waiting for the worse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I hate that hair do, take it off and the damn bra too."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;With that,&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;he let the door slam hard and made his way to the yard where he was going to resume smoking his cigarettes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her tall lean frame shook as she crouched in a corner by the counter. Voices clashed in her head as her body shook with unshed tears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"You're a beautiful woman, let me buy you lunch...Can I give you a ride?...Wow! Gorgeous! You'd make a great model..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She touched her swollen lip, then picked up her torn skirt. Anger shot through her and she shook like a leaf.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"Liars! All of them liars!"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Picking herself from the floor, she realized it was almost 7. She had to make Cookie's birthday dinner before it got too late. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PS:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Inspired by a message by Pastor Adefarasin at House on the Rock Church in Abuja yesterday and Photo gotten from aloofar without permission. Sue me! lol!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-1406492758930141983?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/1406492758930141983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=1406492758930141983' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1406492758930141983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1406492758930141983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/cookie-monster.html' title='Cookie Monster'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHH99_lPRMI/AAAAAAAAAG0/VH5vRQmx9nU/s72-c/awareverbal3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-8893257943964008340</id><published>2008-07-03T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T08:53:13.065-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='financial empowerment'/><title type='text'>No more holes in my pocket</title><content type='html'>I've never really been so knowledgeable about financial investments and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;The average Nigerian is as ignorant as I am too. Those who know anything at all are only too proud to show you shares certificates. After that, there's a brain drain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm even more ignorant than they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is buying shares the only financial investments there is? Are there other investment options?&lt;br /&gt;I know of bonds, Forex, er...that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But is that all?&lt;br /&gt;Guys, you guys are always into one runs or the other. Fill me in. I want to make the dough too. I'm mending the holes in my pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of a salary, savings in the bank and "my uncle is governor of...". I wanna play dice too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any blog Warren Buffet around?&lt;br /&gt;Leave advice.&lt;br /&gt;Pleeeeeeease.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-8893257943964008340?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/8893257943964008340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=8893257943964008340' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8893257943964008340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8893257943964008340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/07/no-more-holes-in-my-pocket.html' title='No more holes in my pocket'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-6597097189093640884</id><published>2008-06-30T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T08:48:43.812-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wellsbaba'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Season finale of anything love related or maybe not...</title><content type='html'>I really don't have any idea what to blog about and the anonymous tip about the happenings at Mirage's page have left me, well, I don't know...is that thing going on there for real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was actually thinking of starting a match making kinda thingy just for wellsbaba but after what I just read at that page, I've decided to kill that idea, not that it would have even worked out in the first place. I was just looking for some fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage. That word! How I dreamt about it the moment I was introduced into the land of fairy tales by Walt Disney cartoons. Every doll I ever had was my baby-there was no need for a father just then. My hormones hadn't started raging, my life was sheer childish bliss where the prince was an inconsequential frog who only gave my imagination wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents weren't a very happy couple and with time they split. I was happy. I had begged them for a divorce for so long. They said they wanted to stick together for the children; the children were telling them to give it up. They didn't want to. They were killing me everyday with their fights.Words of hate thrown at each other like air and I wondered how on earth they ever loved. I sought solace in my imagination. I wished my frog would appear now for that kiss. I wanted my own husband. I was going to be happy with him. He would love me and we would never fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nursed this dream until I went to school. In a playground of young testosterone charged boys, all I knew was fear. When they said they wanted a relationship, I saw the shackles of marriage. I was going to be independent. I didn't need a man in my life. I would have kids but raise them alone. That way they would be happy and know peace in the cradles they weren't given a right to choose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Ar wouldn't let me be. He was always there trying to change my resolve. I had feelings for him but I would not let them out. I didn't need him. I needed no man. He persisted gently, afraid to hurt me. He saw me cry but I won't let him clean my tears. I didn't believe his words and I wanted no part of him. I fled. He relented. We loved each other but I was afraid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years and years. My parents were finally civil to each other. More years and years and they even started chatting on phone again. Sometimes they'd take two steps forward only to move five steps backward. Life went on, slow and unpredictable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar found me again and this time I was ready. My fears didn't die but I was determined to take that step into his arms. Fear and hope clash in my heart even now. Fear of repeating the same mistakes as my folks. Hope that it's possible I can make it right with Ar. Fear of running out on him again. Hope that I would abandon myself in love to grow. Perfect love knows no fear. The torch of love may just drive this darkness of fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents want to reconcile. Over 10 years of separation and now I watch them chase each other again in the game of love. Father pursues and mother smiles shyly. I stand by my window just watching...maybe I am yet to grace another wedding where I would be maid of honor to the woman that gave me birth and to the man who planted the seed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their drama may be over; mine is just about to start. I pray thee God of love please lead me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;PS:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@ Wellsbaba: &lt;em&gt;when I was done with my post, I clicked on spell check and your name was highlighted. I clicked on your name and guess the option the spell check gave me: Beelzebub! It just cracked me up now!!!!!!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just did afrobabe and it said :everybody!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ejura even has Okra as an option!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-6597097189093640884?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/6597097189093640884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=6597097189093640884' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/6597097189093640884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/6597097189093640884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/06/season-finale-of-anything-love-related.html' title='Season finale of anything love related or maybe not...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-8352970286871131538</id><published>2008-06-19T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T10:09:41.792-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whatever'/><title type='text'>I'm not sure what title</title><content type='html'>Ok, connections between eggs and men?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm,&lt;br /&gt;-They all start their lives as eggs [So do women but that's not the point here].&lt;br /&gt;-They get spiced up as they grow through life experiences[Pepper, Curry, thyme, Vinegar, Nutmeg]&lt;br /&gt;-Scrambled, Omelette, Hard boiled, Soft boiled, Sunny side up, Moon side down...depending on which one you have a taste for, they are all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So @ today's ranting: Fried eggs for me are not...oh shoot! It just felt good to put up that post girl. Plus Julia Roberts didn't help matters in Run Away Bride when she couldn't tell what kind of egg she liked the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom line: Just like no egg type is bad, so no man's bad, well almost no man's bad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God loves us all. Grin. And he made the eggs and gave woman the wisdom to either fry em, boil em, scramble em...ok now, I am ranting...Forgive me if it looks like i ain't making sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You guys, I think I got that job oh! I've been called for the final stage. I think it is an interview with the MD himself. But problem is, now I feel bad about leaving my office. They're a real pain most times but I must confess I've grown to love em...Anyway, I guess when I leave, they'd always find somebody to replace me; so there's no need feeling all puffed up thinking I am irreplaceable or something because the world always moves on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's this i hear about code of conduct in Lagos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-If you beg for alms on the streets you're thrown into prison for a month&lt;br /&gt;-If you encourage begging for alms you're locked up for a month&lt;br /&gt;-If you expose any would or disformity for alms sake you're in jail for 3 months&lt;br /&gt;-If you throw dirt on the street you're fined a 1000 naira&lt;br /&gt;-If you don't have a dustbin in your car you're fined a 1000 naira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They forgot to add&lt;br /&gt;"If you urinate here you're fined..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you guys think it would work?&lt;br /&gt;I'd be over at your blogs before you can say today's ranting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought Yaradua was set to declare a state of emergency on our energy sector! How long does he need to set. PHCN is driving us all nuts.&lt;br /&gt;Takia folks!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-8352970286871131538?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/8352970286871131538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=8352970286871131538' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8352970286871131538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8352970286871131538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-not-sure-what-title.html' title='I&apos;m not sure what title'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-7527916747198032457</id><published>2008-06-10T02:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T05:24:45.357-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scrambled'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eggs'/><title type='text'>How do you like your eggs?</title><content type='html'>Scrambled? Omelette? Sunny side up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5aoPOnLDI/AAAAAAAAAGU/F5Fi4Qq6DI8/s1600-h/eggs+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210201466243329074" style="WIDTH: 162px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" height="145" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5aoPOnLDI/AAAAAAAAAGU/F5Fi4Qq6DI8/s320/eggs+1.jpg" width="162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Guy 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Description:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Tall, dark, handsome and bespectacled&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1st meeting:&lt;/strong&gt; School&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Attraction:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Smooth talker&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love or not:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Curiosity&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Memorable moments:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;None, really, none&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date duration:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Um, half a semester&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Break- up type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Drift apart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Egg type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Definitely scrambled&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***********************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5a2Cr-SoI/AAAAAAAAAGc/UazxwAZHQww/s1600-h/eggs+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210201703394986626" style="WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px" height="141" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5a2Cr-SoI/AAAAAAAAAGc/UazxwAZHQww/s320/eggs+2.jpg" width="145" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Guy 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Description:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Tall, really tall, dark and handsome&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1st meeting:&lt;/strong&gt; Through a friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Attraction:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Whacked sense of humour, spontaneity, fun loving&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love or not:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Serious Infatuation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Memorable moments:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;The day he gave me a shoulder ride at the park&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date duration:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Hard to tell, let's see, maybe 3 months? 6 months? Too many appearances and disappearances. 9 months? Not sure&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Break-up type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Ghost like-Appear &amp;amp; disappear&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Egg type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Half way sunny side up-maybe eclipse egg&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5bIfm5yaI/AAAAAAAAAGk/RiFvyKXmLAg/s1600-h/eggs+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210202020395993506" style="WIDTH: 168px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px" height="140" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5bIfm5yaI/AAAAAAAAAGk/RiFvyKXmLAg/s320/eggs+3.jpg" width="145" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Guy 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Description:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Tall, dark, handsome, lovely scar face&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1st meeting:&lt;/strong&gt; At tombola&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Attraction:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Fine fine man&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love or not:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Bored and everyone else had a boyfriend&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Memorable moments:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;The day he kidnapped me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date duration:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Um, let's see, i think 3 months...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Break-up type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Drift apart, less phone calls...until the tap dried up&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Egg type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Omelette? I don't know&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*******************************************************************************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5bg8cfPII/AAAAAAAAAGs/rggrAQr5zTI/s1600-h/eggs5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210202440453799042" style="WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 151px" height="123" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5bg8cfPII/AAAAAAAAAGs/rggrAQr5zTI/s320/eggs5.jpg" width="145" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Guy 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Description:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Tall, dark, kinda good looking and rough&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1st meeting:&lt;/strong&gt; Over the phone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Attraction:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;I thought he was Guy 2 come back to me, kinda complicated&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love or not:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;To prove to people I could date longer than 3 months&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Memorable moments:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Um, hide and seek games&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date duration:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;7 months&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Break-up type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;"I don't think this is working..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Egg type:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Scrambled with tomatoes and onions&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my eggs boiled. Yes, I like boiled eggs-that way I can throw out the yoke &lt;em&gt;[I hate egg yoke]&lt;/em&gt; and feed on the white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do you like your eggs?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS: It's &lt;strong&gt;YOLK&lt;/strong&gt; and not &lt;strong&gt;YOKE.&lt;/strong&gt; Thanks to Naijalines! Though like aphrodite nicely put it, when it comes to eggs and relationships, it's probably YOKE. The good kind of yoke of course...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-7527916747198032457?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/7527916747198032457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=7527916747198032457' title='26 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7527916747198032457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7527916747198032457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/06/how-do-you-like-your-eggs.html' title='How do you like your eggs?'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SE5aoPOnLDI/AAAAAAAAAGU/F5Fi4Qq6DI8/s72-c/eggs+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>26</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-1656457185933481147</id><published>2008-06-02T02:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T03:05:39.822-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='irony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='neighbour'/><title type='text'>The irony called my neighbour</title><content type='html'>He lives in a beautiful bungalow with his family, drives a Mercedes that definitely longs for the good old days, has a laisser faire attitude to his children's upbringing as they spend most of the day and night out doors rather than in the house itself &lt;em&gt;[Do they even really need a house? I mean B is only about 7 or 8 years old and she's outside hopping around the neighbourhood bare footed even when it's dark],&lt;/em&gt; has a lot of friends and connections in the Villa, spends a lot of his time at the Villa, borrows money from his security man &lt;em&gt;[Who claims he resigned because of this]&lt;/em&gt;, allows his kids borrow 50 naira and lunch money from aunties and uncles around the neighbourhood and has a police man with a huge gun stationed outside his house to protect his home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what? The possible problems outside waiting to assail the home or the ones inside waiting to get out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just an innocent question or maybe not...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-1656457185933481147?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/1656457185933481147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=1656457185933481147' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1656457185933481147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1656457185933481147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/06/irony-called-my-neighbour.html' title='The irony called my neighbour'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-4202022782710827623</id><published>2008-05-28T08:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T08:53:46.413-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gists'/><title type='text'>Scattered rants</title><content type='html'>-My Primary school class bully just discovered me on face book. Funny, I'm still kinda scared of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Interviewed a guy who told me he studied "architeshture" from A.B.U Zaria. When I asked him what campus he was in, he said "Kai, it's just that I've been under the sun for so long I cannot remember"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My sister's colleague got his wife a birthday cake but rather than cut the cake with her husband, she went all the way to my sister's boss, cut the cake with him, shared the first slice with him before coming back to her hubby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Gave someone a devotional today. It's my first step in evangelizing.I need the boldness. I just said "Have you seen this before?" and "You can have it". And he said "Thank you" and "have a great day".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My friend's getting married but not to the man she dated for three years. How many women actually marry the men they love? Is your father your mom's true love? Is your mom your dad's true love? I don't wanna know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm temporarily broke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I made some home made shawama and it did taste good; now I crave some not home made shawama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm tired of my clothes. I need new ones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I need to learn that I do not have to buy everything I see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I wanna pee but too lazy to visit the ladies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why do I get so hungry once I am determined to fast?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What if today being Wednesday is actually a recycled Sunday of 800 BC?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Where did yesterday go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I want to go to America too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It's almost 5pm. Thank God it's a public holiday tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Democracy day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Is democracy the best form of govt? Sometimes I wonder...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-4202022782710827623?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/4202022782710827623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=4202022782710827623' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4202022782710827623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4202022782710827623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/05/scattered-rants.html' title='Scattered rants'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-4654744529034793379</id><published>2008-05-21T00:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T02:04:01.228-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nervousness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interview'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moderation'/><title type='text'>Some of last week and some of this.</title><content type='html'>Hi peeps!&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for all the comments on the pics. I can't leave individual replies cos I gota run but thank you all. I'd remember them on PMS days when I feel ugly, bloated and irritated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've been kinda busy and I'm not sure I'm enjoying it. There's a pile of work on my desk and I find it all overwhelming. And the fact that I get to moderate a focus group discussion in a couple of days makes me really nervous. It's my first time so you can understand the butterflies I have in my tummy. I feel the same way I used to feel back then in primary school when I had to recite multiplication tables before the whole class...I hope I do well. I pray I do well. I want to do well. Oh please go away nervousness!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*****************************************************************************&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was called for the third stage of the interview I told you guys about which means I did well in the second stage answering all those diastema questions. The third stage was a different ball game all together. It was divided into two parts: The written and the oral.&lt;br /&gt;The written consisted of four parts: &lt;em&gt;Communication skills, current affairs, cognate ability and reasoning. &lt;/em&gt;How did it go? Hmmm, well, I did what I could. Besides that, no comment. The oral however was, well, er interesting. Here are some excerpts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;****************************************************************************&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Lady interviewer:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Good afternoon Ejura. Please take a seat and read this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[She hands me a sheet and scores me as I pronounce each word]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LI:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; What is a mission statement?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[This lady has a Margaret Thatcher approach to her questions and a very no nonsense attitude. Plus she's pretty and she knows it.]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; A mission statement is a, er, it's like a guide line that pretty much summarizes your purpose and drives you forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LI:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Oh, really? What is your mission statement?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; I think my M.S is to be a reference point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Don't give me all that rehearsed story. Ejura, give me you. Tell me the truth. What reference point? Reference point where?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Ref point in everything I....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Rehearsed what? Did I have a clue you were going to be asking me about my MS?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;[Pointing her finger at my face]&lt;/em&gt; Don't waste my time girl. I'm not here for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; But that’s how…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;What do you love to do? &lt;em&gt;[She obviously loves interrupting]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; I love painting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Oh, you're an artist. If you love painting what are you doing in a bank?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; It’s a career I have always wanted to pursue &lt;em&gt;[Which is so far away from the truth].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; And why is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Er, because I think it is a great….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Don’t give me those lines&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, honestly…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LI:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Yes, honestly, I like honestly, let’s start with honestly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;[What’s with this lady?]&lt;/em&gt; Ok, I really like the way bankers look-their appearance. They look crisp and nice and that has always been an attraction for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; You want to work in a bank because of the way bankers look? &lt;em&gt;[Blinks]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Well, that’s one of the reasons and I think you look good too &lt;em&gt;[Plus you didn't want any rehearsed thing so why not go weird?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;LI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Thank you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Ok, I was sucking up by complimenting her but who cares?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;****************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;The second interview:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a young good looking man. He has a laptop before him and the scene suddenly reminds me of “Who wants to be a millionaire?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Please sit down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Thank you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Him:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; You studied French?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I’m going to be testing your current affairs ability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Oh, sugar, honey, ice and tea! Current affairs? My great weakness!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Who is the president of France?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; I know it’s Sarosky but I can’t recall his first name now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Him:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; And you studied French. His name is Nicholas Sarosky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes, Nicholas. You’re right. &lt;em&gt;[The name was actually dangling in my brain!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Who is the secretary to the federal government of Nigeria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;[Oh no!]&lt;/em&gt; I’m sorry I do not know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; No name rings a bell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; No &lt;em&gt;[Nigeria has a secretary?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; At all? Tell me who you are thinking of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; [&lt;em&gt;The only name in my head is Umar Modibo, minister of the FCT and I know this is so wrong].&lt;/em&gt; Please don’t waste your time sir. I’m afraid I do not know the answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, where is the headquarters of the UN?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;[I know Ban-ki-moon is the sec gen but the head qtrs? Lord, why me?]&lt;/em&gt; I don’t know it Sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Hmm, have you heard about Geneva?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; What if I told you it was Geneva?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Then I’d have to go find out after this to make sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; What do you know about Geneva?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; I know it’s in Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes, positive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Where in Europe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Em, it should be Switzerland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;[It suddenly seems like Sweden but no…]&lt;/em&gt; It’s Switzerland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; What else do you know about Geneva?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Er, I know they make some really good wristwatches there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Somebody shoot me! I feel like the lady in legally blond. First I like the way bankers dress and now I know they make watches in Geneva? Am I insane?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*****************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What do you guys think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[I saw a sane man quarreling with an imbecile at Wuse Market yesterday. Who's the imbecile now?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-4654744529034793379?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/4654744529034793379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=4654744529034793379' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4654744529034793379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4654744529034793379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/05/some-of-last-week-and-some-of-this.html' title='Some of last week and some of this.'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-4646231107507934832</id><published>2008-05-14T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T08:31:52.954-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='china'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='earthquake'/><title type='text'>Na photo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCr-JdDrLZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/J7FZW9uF6RU/s1600-h/Hunh!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200248158124977554" style="WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px" height="240" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCr-JdDrLZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/J7FZW9uF6RU/s320/Hunh!.jpg" width="225" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCr-6dDrLaI/AAAAAAAAAFM/XoeIkT0d_Kg/s1600-h/A+kiss+for+u.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200248999938567586" style="WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px" height="154" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCr-6dDrLaI/AAAAAAAAAFM/XoeIkT0d_Kg/s320/A+kiss+for+u.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCr_mdDrLbI/AAAAAAAAAFU/xplv7PPQIbI/s1600-h/21032008822.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200249755852811698" style="WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px" height="240" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCr_mdDrLbI/AAAAAAAAAFU/xplv7PPQIbI/s320/21032008822.jpg" width="240" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are meant to capture moments aren't they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please say a prayer for the children in Myanmar and China. Yesterday, I watched on cnn a man who lost his wife and kids to the earthquake in China, rush off to rescue others. He put his pain aside just so he could reach out to someone else. I don't know if I could do that. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart wept for him. For them all. For the many children who lost their lives. For those trapped beneath all that rubble. For the kids who are now orphaned. For families now living beneath umbrellas in open fields...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lord, please send them legions of angels...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for all the birthday wishes! The next one's next year. Make sure to be there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;Welcome back from ??? bighead!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-4646231107507934832?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/4646231107507934832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=4646231107507934832' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4646231107507934832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4646231107507934832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/05/whatever.html' title='Na photo...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCr-JdDrLZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/J7FZW9uF6RU/s72-c/Hunh!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-2303977866254772330</id><published>2008-05-09T03:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T10:35:50.518-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cake'/><title type='text'>In my birthday suit!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I woke up this morning answering calls and receiving text messages! Will this continue tomorrow? Nah! I was born only one day afterall. Too bad cos I can live like this for the rest of my life. I don't mean in my birthday suit! Who's going to live the rest of her life naked? Not me! According to princesa and afrobabe, Mba nu! I'm talking about soaking up for eternity in all the sweet attention I'm getting from everyone else but my mom and sis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those two ganged up against me this morning and refused to sing me happy birthday song! They said I woke them up demanding it of them [Which is true] and so it won't flow as it ought to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To make them feel bad, I kept singing "happy birthday to me" while in the bathroom. It didn't work so I've decided not to give em my cake!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You wanna see the cake? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCQlmP_FuXI/AAAAAAAAAE8/PflJO5jlf_c/s1600-h/090520081120.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198321208948799858" style="WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px" height="213" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCQlmP_FuXI/AAAAAAAAAE8/PflJO5jlf_c/s320/090520081120.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ain't she chocolatey gorgeous like me?! Ignore that hole in the middle. I had to have a taste of the cake and I wasn't patient enough to wait so... I wish I could give all of blogville a slice but seeing y'all are so far away and that the cake ain't even large enuf to go round, I'd just eat your share and think about y'all in the process. So don't be surprised if you suddenly taste some sweetness in your mouth today. I'm eating and thinking about you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do I feel any different today? Not at all. Still I remember when I was nine and how important birthdays were to me then. It was all about adventure and unwrapping presents and begging uncle Sunday to take me to Kingsway or NITC gardens. Now, it's just a reminder that you're living life every year and that God has brought you this far.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, today I wish myself and all my birthday mates around the world a great day. I also hence forth declare May 9th a public holiday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for all your sweet buffday wishes. Y'all are the best. Stop at Smaragd's for drinks and there's an after party at afro's! C u there. Oh, the theme's "tropicana" so make sure to look colourful!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-2303977866254772330?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/2303977866254772330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=2303977866254772330' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2303977866254772330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2303977866254772330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/05/in-my-birthday-suit.html' title='In my birthday suit!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SCQlmP_FuXI/AAAAAAAAAE8/PflJO5jlf_c/s72-c/090520081120.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-2436319922198547482</id><published>2008-05-06T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T07:35:16.066-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bank'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interview'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HR'/><title type='text'>Long post but na job interview oh!</title><content type='html'>I didn't intend to blog this week what with all the work on my plate but well, here I am and I am no blog addict!&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I mentioned this job interview I was called for in my previous post. Well, the d-day was Saturday and I did my best to look as fly as I could. When I saw the number of people there, I almost became a nervous wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gathered we were about 200 candidates there so I'm guessing they like picked everyone that wrote the aptitude test. &lt;em&gt;I thought interviews were supposed to be for the lucky 35 that aced the test out of 3,000 that sat it. That kinda makes you feel really smart with yourself; but with 200 candidates [and 150 more to be interviewed on later dates], you have to fast and pray real hard.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And check out the ladies there-mini skirt wearing ones, yellow legs in sky scraper heels, outrageous hair-do spotting ones, those that know it all, those that didn't know anything, nervous wrecks that had to pee every minute, calm ones, those that complained about the long wait but didn't leave because truth is we all need the job, those that came to meet with friends...this applies to the guys too...now I'm wondering what group of people I fell in, hmmn, thought for later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was there some minutes before 10:00am since the interview was meant to be for 10:00am on the dot. but guess what? I didn't get interviewed until 9:00pm, yep, 9:00pm. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Here's the gist:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You get called in according to where you seat. The closer you are to the doors that hold the interviewing rooms, the more likely you are to be interviewed in time. No numbers, no nothing, no reward for punctuality. It was all about where you were lucky enough to sit.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See people struggling in spite of the fact that they had their suits and heels on. Not this babe sha-no struggling in my dept. What's yours will be yours 10:00am or 10:00pm. But men, it was a long wait. It was so long I'd have had enough time to conceive and deliver a set of twins and still have three more hours to heal properly before being interviewed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sha, sha, my turn came. My lipstick was all gone, my face was oily and my neatly packed hair had danced with some invisible wind so I was not exactly some spicy chick at the moment. Who cared? Plus all the ladies left to be interviewed looked like me. So no impressing the cool dudes anymore. Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked in when it was my turn and was immediately asked [it was a panel of three; 2 ladies and a guy]:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Are you among the people that fought during the AP test?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[I am asked to take a seat and the question is repeated and I say-]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-No, I don't fight so I couldn't have been one of them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[The question is repeated again and I go]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-I wasn't aware there was a fight that day. Was there one?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And they ask me to be honest and tell them if I've ever fought before; and I tell them I did fight in JSS 3 but go on to add that it wasn't exactly a fight but a beating. I beat the culprit with the help of my team. At this point they all burst into laughter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-You mean with your size you can beat anybody?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[So I'm 56 kg and 5feet 6 tall but you should see me kick ass which of course is a lie. I don't even go near a fight. Instead I say-]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-I'm actually small but mighty&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;[And they laugh some more]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they go into tell us about what you studied, what you can offer, what dept you'd like to be in...&lt;br /&gt;And I tell them human resources.&lt;br /&gt;And they ask me what human resources is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;em&gt;Thank God I just concluded a study on one of the banks in Naija and their staff told me alot about their HR dept. I just downloaded some of the info for them].&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one of the ladies asks me about my gap and mentions that her son is also gap toothed. I don't like my gap and I usually don't like talking about it cos it makes me kinda self conscious and all but not this evening. I smile and we get talking about diastema. I ask her about her son and she's eager to talk about him.&lt;br /&gt;The man amongst them tells me some naija men love gaps and asks me if I've come across such men and I tell him yes and he asks me why I still feel insecure about it and I think for a while and say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-The thing is I don't believe those men.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's another round of laughter and I'm wondering how I'm doing. It seems I am making them laugh a lot. Is that good or bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel I made a mistake though: They asked me what I'd have done differently if I was to be the organizer of the AP test and without acknowledging their efforts, I sort of rushed into telling them how I'd do this and that differently. I don't think that was particularly nice but they kept nodding their heads in agreement so I'm hoping they didn't catch my error. Please God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I get back to my current job and find I have a pay rise. Finally.&lt;br /&gt;Now what to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bank's pay will be higher and right now it's all about the money for me. Still I kinda love my present job...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kai, choices...&lt;br /&gt;Wetin una think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-2436319922198547482?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/2436319922198547482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=2436319922198547482' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2436319922198547482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2436319922198547482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/05/long-post-but-na-job-interview-oh.html' title='Long post but na job interview oh!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-7203744268630073191</id><published>2008-05-02T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:34:48.672-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quirks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tag'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='apt test'/><title type='text'>tagged and some</title><content type='html'>I have a report to write with a two week deadline; I've spent one week already and I'm not close to finishing it. My eyes ache from sitting infront of a computer screen all day, my fingers and butt need a massage, my tummy's hungry and I just want to sleep...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I've been tagged. I'd better do it now sha because it's all serious business next week. Oh plus I have a bank interview tomorrow. I've never wanted to be a banker but I won't mind the career change. I hope I scale through cos all I know about banking right now is "Goodmorning, pls I'd like to check my balance...". That kind of thing sha.&lt;br /&gt;It still baffles me that I passed the apt test whatwith all the amazing maths questions conceived by some deranged professor they were busy asking us that day! Even "tinini tanana biko biko" failed me in the exam hall. Anyway, wish me luck y'all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok back to being tagged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;1.link the person who tagged you…&lt;br /&gt;2. Mention the rules in your blog…&lt;br /&gt;3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours...&lt;br /&gt;4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them…&lt;br /&gt;5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 unspectacular quirks? Ok, here goes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-I stand on one foot when doing the dishes and chew my lower lip and the inside of my cheek at the same time. It helps me finish the dishes in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When I get a new outfit, I put it on like once every week and do a dance or a monologue infront of the mirror even before I finally wear it out. And it could take me a whole month to get to wear it anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I've been collecting seeds recently. I take the pain to dry them up and then pour them into a bowl. I don't know why I do this but I do. Currently I have dried watermelon seeds, date seeds and agbalumo/udara [I don't know the English word for it] seeds. I'm looking for more. Could you get me some?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I still doodle like a child. I can't help it. In my books, my bible, pieces of paper, table tops...I don't do walls however. Not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I can be very indecisive when it comes to crossing roads. I get halfway, see a vehicle seemingly charging toward me and I start wondering whether to complete my crossing, run back to where I am coming from or just stand where I am. Somehow I always make the right decision. Guess what it is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My eyes always tear up when I see adverts with children in them. It could be anything from&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, mommy, I learnt to tie my shoelaces" to "It's my brother's ball" to...[yawn. I'm hungry]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 ****************&lt;br /&gt;I'm lazy when it comes to linking blogs but make I sha try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tagg &lt;a href="http://afrolicious-babe.blogspot.com//"&gt;afrobabe&lt;/a&gt;-I feel she still has 6 more quirks to share.lol!&lt;br /&gt;Then I tag &lt;a href="http://just-saying-my-mind.blogspot.com/"&gt;princesa&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://andyneuro1.blogspot.com/"&gt;andy&lt;/a&gt;, em &lt;a href="http://boldfaze.blogspot.com/"&gt;today's ranting&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://aloofaa.blogspot.com/"&gt;aloofar,&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://ladyguide.blogspot.com/"&gt;ladyguide&lt;/a&gt; and everybody else abeg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great weekend oh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps:&lt;br /&gt;It's my buffday May 9th. I ain't celebrating the age. I no gree say i don old. No be just yesterday them born me? Which one come be 20 something?&lt;br /&gt;Gifts are however welcome nonetheless.lol!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-7203744268630073191?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/7203744268630073191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=7203744268630073191' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7203744268630073191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7203744268630073191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/05/tagged-and-some.html' title='tagged and some'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3671287872472503272</id><published>2008-04-30T06:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T07:00:31.538-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mosquitos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cost'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rice'/><title type='text'>Rice and stew very plenty...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Mama Iyabo: Customer, how now?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mama B: Fine oh!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mama Iyabo: Abeg give me two bags of rice.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mama B: The money don add oh!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mama Iyabo: You like money too much jo. No be 6000 for bag? How much you wan add on top again?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mama B: Rice don cost oh! Na 12,000 for one bag now.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mama Iyabo: 12 gini? Na play you dey play or what?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mama B: Which kain play now? Market woman the play?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mama Iyabo: 12 thou wetin? You mean say my two bag na 24,000.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mama B: Na so I see am.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;PS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know about everywhere else but the rate at which mosquitos are attacking us in Abuja is crazy. I've used all the insecticides I know and the result is no different. Bagon, Raid, Mobil, Mortein...Anyone know anything else I can use? Suggestions anyone?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3671287872472503272?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3671287872472503272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3671287872472503272' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3671287872472503272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3671287872472503272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/04/rice-and-stew-very-plenty.html' title='Rice and stew very plenty...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-8525118784668538388</id><published>2008-04-29T04:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T05:35:31.826-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog amebo'/><title type='text'>Nothing much to talk about</title><content type='html'>Today I woke up feeling like a truck had run over my nose. I hate Catarrh! I hate it so much. I started having the symptoms yesterday morning and by night it had become a full fledged cold. I've soaked myself in hot water, drank tea, applied Robb all over my chest and even swallowed a tablet of actifed but my nose is still blocked. I feel like yanking it off and scraping all the catarrh out! (I know this isn't lady like but who cares now jo). Plus I had a bad hair day this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I've been reading the comments you guys left me on the undies thingy and laughing in spite of the pain I feel in my chest. Brothers, make una the make mouth oh! Una well done. None panty washers! Who even wants you to touch their undies sef?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went ablogging this morning and here's small gist on the posts that are up as I understand them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ladyguide:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;She's our guide oh and her posts are really full of guiding materials. Current post [That is if she doesn't put something else up like in the next 10 secs] is "When do you start flogging your kids?" Go leave your comments there.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Afrobabe:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;This sista sha...I...ok, this post has a picture attached to it. On first glance it's just a pic until you look closer and you see it's more than a pic.... Hers talks about "When to have sex in a relationship". She actually wanted to put up something political and serious and stuff, according to her, but she came up with this instead. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;PS: Abeg, that her advice sha get as e be. Afrobabe, you no go kill me!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today's ranting:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;She is still on about the general oh! I'm thinking it's Sani Abacha but there are so many African generals like that in Africa that it could be any number of them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Free flowing florida:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Her post is on pregnancy, abortion and the hypocrisy of it all. And I'm asking myself, what would I do if I got preg today. I'm pro life and all but what would I do when faced with a growing egg in my womb? Speaking of which, I heard Barrak Obama made one "Baby killer" oops in a speech. I don't have the full gist yet sha.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Men, una see the fight for Delta State, House of Assembly? Are those guys touts or leaders? Kai!**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Princesa:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Yeah, her bro got married and she has the pics up. They all look splendid in Blue and Yellow. I wonder what my own colour will be? What if I use black? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Andy:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Finally some drama in the medical world! Two ladies have a crush on our dear recently married Andy! He's become crush sandwich and his post about it is so hilarious. Way to go Doc!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30+:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;I'm not sure what I read now but did she really say something about going bald? I don't think so!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aloofar:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Is still reading Richard Branson's "Screw it, let's do it" oh! I can't wait to read it myself. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Smaragd:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;She's got some facts on her post. So the fear of insects is called Entomophobia? I didn't know that. What is the fear for a specific insect called because I am darn scared of cockroaches! I hate em, I can't kill em and I can't sleep when I see one! Once I kept a vigil in my room because there was one high up on the wall and it was too late to beg anyone to help me kill the brown warrior. Some of them look like they've been around for 100 years. Kai! I don't even like spraying them with insecticide because they get crazy and start to fly...no, those things are demonic!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aijay:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Make una help me beg this madam to update! She's been reminiscing for so long now. Aijay, please do something!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Honey well:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;She has something on "Bite me". Something she saw on ladi's blog. She also has a video up on Steve Harvey. I'm yet to watch it though.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kai, I'm tired let me rest small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I painted my nails a deep red abi na maroon today and I am not sure whether I should go look for gloves to wear or just flaunt em. That colour is so bold I'm not sure why I chose it. Actually, the girl at the saloon assured me it was fine but now I'm thinking of suing her for negative influence! I wish I  were in America where I could make a fortune off suing people! I'd sue the amebo security men at my office. I'd sue my boss's P.A for continuous toasting even after I said I no want. I'd sue my neighbour for leaving his gen on all night. Haba, na only him need light?! I'd sue the guy who stepped on my toes and didn't apologize. I'd sue the electronic security doors in that bank that keeps screaming "metal, metal, metal". Whether my teeth has metal in it I don't know...an endless list of cases oh jo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-8525118784668538388?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/8525118784668538388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=8525118784668538388' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8525118784668538388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8525118784668538388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/04/nothing-much-to-talk-about.html' title='Nothing much to talk about'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-626685050363711392</id><published>2008-04-16T07:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T04:30:58.015-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='man'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='undies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loving'/><title type='text'>Can you wash your wife's undies?</title><content type='html'>This was the topic of the heated argument in my office recently.&lt;br /&gt;The guys brought it up actually. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[I'm not married so why should I bother about this kain talk now. Plus I enjoy washing em myself at the moment so...]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, all the guys save for one said no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Their reasons:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why should I wash my wife's undies?&lt;br /&gt;-Why should I wash my wife's undies?&lt;br /&gt;-Why should I wash my wife's undies?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then they added:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why should I wash my wife's undies?&lt;br /&gt;-Why should I wash my wife's undies?&lt;br /&gt;-If I'd even do it at all, then it has to be when she is really ill. And I'd get a&lt;br /&gt; house help to do it for her sef.&lt;br /&gt;-My uncle is my mentor and I've never seen him do it for his wife. The day he&lt;br /&gt; does it, then I'd do it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;From the looks on their faces, you'd think they were asked to kill their mothers or rape a mosquito or do something extremely outrageous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I said:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'd like my husband to wash my undies and I'd never suggest it to him either but what if he does? &lt;em&gt;[I mean what's the big deal?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Them:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-That is a weak man!&lt;br /&gt;-Not in this century! No man! Ish!&lt;br /&gt;-Na juju!&lt;br /&gt;-Naija man?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if he just wants to help me because he wants to? After all, I'd be washing his boxers for him too and he doesn't even have to ask me to do it. I'd pick them out of the dirty cloth basket and soak them in detergent all the while singing "The things I do for love"[&lt;em&gt;And I know some men leave very disgusting things in their boxers these days]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Them:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Well, it's your job to wash his boxers!&lt;br /&gt;-You're a woman!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt;Ouch!Actually, I consider myself to be of greater importance than that!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't consider myself a feminist [I still need men in my world even though it kinda belongs to them] but in the face of these arrogant over inflated "egorized" pigs, I find myself wanting to sign up for a women libbers club or something!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Them:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They start shouting, laughing, screaming, making a lot of noise, on and on but I finally manage to catch their attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So I say:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what I'd do for a man who just ups and washes my undies for me not because I asked him to but because he loves me and seeks an unusual channel of expression for this love? [&lt;em&gt;What's even so unusual about it?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Them [With ugly smirks on their faces]:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What? What?&lt;br /&gt;-Nothing she fit do! Nothing she go do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd have the bed sheet scented, run some warm water in the bath tub, soak him in it and scrub his back after getting into the tub with him; I'd towel him dry and give him a massage, rubbing oil gently over his skin, claiming every inch of his body with my lips... and make sure our third child is conceived that night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Them: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It suddenly seems like they're salivating.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-*Cough* Whatever&lt;br /&gt;-I'd still not wash my wife's undies. I'd do anything else but that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, you ain't gonna get that kind of loving then and you'd never have your wildest fantasy fulfilled[Nothing too weird please]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;********&lt;br /&gt;What's the difference between helping your woman peel onions and washing her undies? Really? One seems too degrading for male egos or what?&lt;br /&gt;It's all bull. [Jesus washed twelve men's badly calloused feet in water! Isn't that like a hint on what humility should be all about? But I guess this doesn't in anyway concern a husband after all the bible only advises him to "love his wife" and love could be anything from making love to your wife without giving her a sweet warm hug first &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;[Love is made on the bed right?]&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;to letting her sit in the kitchen all of Saturday while you catch up on your sports [&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;After all you're always at home for her right? I mean you could be in a club with your peeps right now. What will she say then?&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;****************&lt;br /&gt;I'd never ask my husband to wash my undies but if he surprises me with a gift like this, why not baby?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is love begins in the kitchen and everywhere else but the bedroom!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-626685050363711392?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/626685050363711392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=626685050363711392' title='46 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/626685050363711392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/626685050363711392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/04/can-you-wash-your-wifes-undies.html' title='Can you wash your wife&apos;s undies?'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>46</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-7824139341440967086</id><published>2008-04-14T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T11:36:04.837-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='a million times'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yes'/><title type='text'>Ejura says Yes</title><content type='html'>Relationship gist again...it's that season...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I said yes to him.&lt;br /&gt;and now I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;He's the serious kind of guy,&lt;br /&gt;The one who isn't out to break your heart,&lt;br /&gt;The one you can trust.&lt;br /&gt;I've never really been that kind of girl,&lt;br /&gt;My longest relationship was 7 months,&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid of commitment.&lt;br /&gt;I keep holding back,&lt;br /&gt;They say I've got fences around me,&lt;br /&gt;Fences I put up myself,&lt;br /&gt;Well, now I want to break free,&lt;br /&gt;So I said yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However now that I've said yes to him,&lt;br /&gt;Other guys are popping out of the shadows,&lt;br /&gt;They all want to get married,&lt;br /&gt;Where were there all this while huh?&lt;br /&gt;What where they doing?&lt;br /&gt;I've walked down the same street for a year now,&lt;br /&gt;Lived in the same neighbourhood for that long too,&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't they see me then?&lt;br /&gt;Were they blind&lt;br /&gt;Or have I changed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mominto says it's my time.&lt;br /&gt;She says every woman has her season,&lt;br /&gt;when men chase her like moths to a flame&lt;br /&gt;just so she can have a whole lot of options.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know which is better:&lt;br /&gt;Having a whole lot of options or just knowing who the "chosen one" is?&lt;br /&gt;She says to use this time well cos it may never come again and even if it does, it may take a while...&lt;br /&gt;That's one reason why some women remain spinsters;&lt;br /&gt;They didn't recognize when their time came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've said yes,&lt;br /&gt;and I'm going to stick to that.&lt;br /&gt;He's got a great heart&lt;br /&gt;and I know that's what counts.&lt;br /&gt;I love him and he loves me.&lt;br /&gt;God keep us together.&lt;br /&gt;Amen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-7824139341440967086?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/7824139341440967086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=7824139341440967086' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7824139341440967086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7824139341440967086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/04/ejura-says-yes.html' title='Ejura says Yes'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3431925490605766483</id><published>2008-04-11T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T07:15:01.688-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bros'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flavours'/><title type='text'>Some memorable first dates</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Date 1: With the "I'm so perfect man"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: I'm so sorry I'm late, couldn't get a cab fast enough. [I was like 20mins late&lt;/em&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;Him: No, it's ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: I'm really sorry&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: No, it's fine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: So tell me about yourself&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Well, I am a very time conscious person. When I tell somebody a particular hour, I stick to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[I thought he said he was ok with my being late]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much later:&lt;br /&gt;Him: What church do you attend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: House on the rock&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Oh, I used to go there until I saw the light. Don't worry, you'd get there soon.&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;em&gt;What?!!Telling a potential friend she is in darkness on the first date? Who died and made you judge?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date 2: With the Narcissist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Do you like sports?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Yes, I like to watch...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: [Interrupts me] I play bball, football...I'm really good with sports.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Oh, that's good&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Do you like to travel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Yes, I would love to see...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: [Interrupts me again] I love to travel! I've been on almost every continent! I go every where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Lucky you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: What do you read?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Novels like...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: I read a lot, everything even...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Did he really need a living date?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date 3: With the Insecure Freak&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Is that all you'll have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Yes, I'm ok&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Take more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: No, I'm ok [Sho, na by force]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Do u think I cannot afford it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: No, I'm ok, really&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: I feel insulted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Please don't be&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Ok, tell me about yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Well, I'm just me, I could be friendly when need be, quiet when need be...I could say I'm a Chameleon, LOL&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: That's bad! You shouldn't be a chameleon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[The dude starts telling me why I shouldn't be a chameleon. For goodness sake, I was only spoiling for a laugh!]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Next thing I know, he sends me a text, telling me how I treated him like shit, like he didn't have money, like he wasn't worthy of me. I'm wondering where he got that from.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date 4:With the sex head&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Ejura, I love you. I want to marry you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: But I've told you before that I cannot marry you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: But why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Because I don't see you in that light; besides there's someone else&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Forget about him, I want to spoil you silly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Thanks but I don't love you like that&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: I know what would make you love me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Really? What?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Allow me have carnal knowledge of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Huh?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date 5: With the Desperado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: I really like you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Thanks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Baby, do you think we can be together?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Like friends?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Who's talking about friends here? I want to marry you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: But you just met me the day before yesterday&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: It doesn't matter. I need to get married now. I'm old enough to be married. All my friends are getting married&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: But what about love?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: I can take care of you girl. I'd give you all you need. You're igala, I'm igala, we can make this work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Sho?]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Date 6: With an interesting man&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: I was thinking you should try indian food so I took the liberty of ordering&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: No, it's fine. I might as well try it today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: It's really spicy you know. And they have the most lovely rice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Really?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Food arrives]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Wow, where do I start from?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Let me show you. The green stuff over there is the peppermint...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Peppermint in food?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Haha, funny right? That's the way they eat it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Hmm, kinda tasty&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: I like that you're curious about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[This guy was so interesting, I had a great evening!]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Brothers abound in different flavours jare!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Have a great weekend! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3431925490605766483?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3431925490605766483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3431925490605766483' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3431925490605766483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3431925490605766483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/04/some-memorable-first-dates.html' title='Some memorable first dates'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-2159742155416102847</id><published>2008-04-10T03:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T05:23:35.856-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mominto'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Happy birthday Mominto!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Stop calling me mommy! Call me Mominto because I am the baby mommy!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my mom's phrase. She says it all the time and I'm blogging about her now because it's her birthday! Yep, it's Mominto's birthday today. April 10th!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, are you going to celebrate this year"s own?" I asked her before today.&lt;br /&gt;"No way, not until I am 50!" She replied while she applied her make up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you always have to do your eyebrows like that?" I asked again.&lt;br /&gt;"Gerrout! What do you know? I am the fashionista!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she truly is. She loves fashion and makes it a point of duty to always be the belle of the ball. And though she’s my mom, we are so different in nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, the pattern on your skirt is too much now! Haba, you want the whole world to notice you?"&lt;br /&gt;"That's the whole point. I should be noticed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is the funniest woman I know. Once, thieves came to our house and she heard them struggling with the gate. I'm not sure exactly what she was thinking when she took the stance of one holding an imaginary gun, went up to the window and screamed:"Advance to be recognized! If you move I shoot!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, her bravado didn't stop them from getting into the house and she even ended up being the most cooperative of all.&lt;br /&gt;Once I was at a supermarket with her and this man came to ask her out! She looked at him, looked at me and then laughed. She then pointed at me and told the man I was her daughter. He left us then but not without offering to pay for our purchases. My mom politely refused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, my mom is prettier than any of her children and doesn't even look her age. Most people think we are sisters and I find it annoying sometimes. I guess she enjoys it. She emphazises the point whenever she says "I am baby mommy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she loves to fight with us girls! Play play fight of course! Every night just before they start her beloved Second Chance or the 9pm news we always fight for chair space. She loves it and I love it and it’s nice when we fight like that. She always wins the fight somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While my mom is crazy about clean and beautiful environments, she hates going into the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;"My skin is too tender for the fire from the cooker. I can't go near it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can count how many times she's been into the kitchen and when she does she comes out with some delicious food. She taught me once that if you have too many people come over to eat and very little food to go round, make sure to cook that food with lots of pepper. That way, they take two spoonfuls, drink a lot of water and are full very easily!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom would buy chocolates and hide in the bathroom to eat them. When you catch her in the act she'd say "Am I the only one who has kids?!!!!" Still, she is the most generous woman I have ever met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She loves to pray though and makes sure the whole family is involved in her prayer. Once she rounded us up for morning devotion and she cleared her throat and started a worship song. This is the way it went:"Nobody wanna see us together but..." Akon's song had been played all week around her and it must have been burnt into her memory. We all burst into laughter and so did she.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’s also very mischievous. I’d never forgot the day she mounted my cousin’s bike, started it and started screaming for help when the bike took off with her. I would never forget the panic in her face as she jumped off the motorcycle and landed in the grass! The bike went on into the fence. It was so funny I laughed for days on end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell my mom you like a guy and the next thing she says when she meets this guy is:&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, so it is you! My daughter likes you oh! Ignore her shakara jare!”  The last time she did this to me, I wanted to so arghhh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I feel I am the mother and she is the daughter but I love her the way she is and couldn't ask for another mom. She fills our house with laughter all the time just by being who she is. [Which is a handful].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here’s wishing my very sanguine mother a great day today.&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday Mommy! Sorry, I mean Mominto!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-2159742155416102847?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/2159742155416102847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=2159742155416102847' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2159742155416102847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2159742155416102847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/04/happy-birthday-mominto.html' title='Happy birthday Mominto!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3769599227700729772</id><published>2008-04-09T03:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T04:56:23.359-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='math'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fool'/><title type='text'>"Update!!!" they screamed! "Update! Update!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mathematics!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrote an aptitude test some weeks back and had to jack Gmat like crazy. I spent sleepless nights trying to understand maths and I came to one conclusion-I really don't need that subject in my life. I mean, I understand it when you ask me to multiply 6 by 4 and subtract 20 from the figure you get. That's easy and full of logic. But why would anyone ask me to find out why X equals Y when it is raised to the power of 2?! Hello! We've left figures now and are doing alphabets? Why don't they just leave the alphabets were they belong? In books, in langauges, in literature, in conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;x+ y= x-y&lt;br /&gt;Find y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I told them "y" simply stood for "yeast" or "yellow" or "yarn"? They'd simply draw a big cross that looks like an X on my script and tell me I made an F9.&lt;br /&gt;It's really funny that I once won a prize for best math student in JSS1. I also used to represent my school in JET competitions. I even finally ended up as the laboratory prefect. It's funny I was always among the top 2 in science class but maths was never my thing and while I was dying to study literature [In my school, you couldn't do literature if you were a science student] my math teacher thought I was on my way to becoming one of the best doctors of all time. Ha ha! My waec result came out and I made a p8 in maths! That shut my teacher up for a while. I resat the exam again and I made a p7. I'm yet to write it the third time and I even doubt that I will but I'm thinking I would definitely make a C6 this time! It's called persistence abi? I salute all you mathsters around the world though. I admire you, I respect you but with due respect to you all, I don't envy you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All ye fools&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually planned to fool you guys on April fool's day but didn't make it. I was going to tell you that my book had come out and that I was going to have a book launch. I even designed a cover for it. But hey! I'm also thinking I could actually write a book. It doesn't have to be an April fool thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R_yuHvXewuI/AAAAAAAAAEc/LENbiXbstnM/s1600-h/Someone"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187212318821237474" style="WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" height="320" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R_yuHvXewuI/AAAAAAAAAEc/LENbiXbstnM/s320/Someone%27s+watching-001.jpg" width="172" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bible study Invitation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus if you're a christian and you live in Abuja and want to get to know more about the word of God, there's this Bible Society Fellowship going on in town. It's run by Americans and it's so much fun. You get to study a particular book in the bible, attend interesting lectures and even have interesting group discussions where you can bare your mind, ask questions and even answer questions the way you know how. It's really great and you'll learn how to depend more and more on the Holy Spirit everyday. It holds evert Tuesday by 5: 30 pm.&lt;br /&gt;So I'd blog up when the next introduction class will kick off and you could come around if you're interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Venue: 1st Baptist Church,&lt;br /&gt;Gimbiya Street, [Same street as 247, Roses and Ibiza]&lt;br /&gt;Area 11,&lt;br /&gt;Abuja.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Legal case with Fantasy Queen&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also thinking of suing Fantasy Queen for using my picture as her screen saver! I'm gonna get the best boston legal expert on blogsphere and sue her for a whooping sum of money in dollars! It's gonna be so huge I'd be rich! And I'm gonna be so rich that I'd have breakfast in Madrid, have my laundry done in Tokyo, purchase all my chocolates from France and have dinner in Italy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Could this be love?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then keep your fingers crossed for me but it seems like cupid has struck me for real this time. The funny thing is that this guy has always been around me. We've been friends like forever! Love [I'm really hoping it is] was in front of me all this while and I never knew it! There I was looking somewhere else when he was just by my side. Goodness! Anyway, I'm treading this path carefully. I'm glad but scared so I don't wanna rush into something and make a fool out of myself at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Take care&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you're feeling down today, remember God loves you and give yourself a big warm squeeze and smile! He's always there!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3769599227700729772?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3769599227700729772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3769599227700729772' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3769599227700729772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3769599227700729772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/04/update-they-screamed-update-update.html' title='&quot;Update!!!&quot; they screamed! &quot;Update! Update!&quot;'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R_yuHvXewuI/AAAAAAAAAEc/LENbiXbstnM/s72-c/Someone%27s+watching-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-5250159137835107988</id><published>2008-03-14T01:52:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T05:02:44.086-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jam'/><title type='text'>Picture Rants</title><content type='html'>Wasn't sure what to blog about so I decided to put up these pictures. They've been in my phone for awhile now so why not blog them up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Norkia?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pcUIWSwVI/AAAAAAAAAEU/S2J1TwiRSw8/s1600-h/Hands+off.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177552222523933010" style="WIDTH: 253px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" height="270" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pcUIWSwVI/AAAAAAAAAEU/S2J1TwiRSw8/s320/Hands+off.jpg" width="253" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking of starting my own telecommunications outfit someday so when my little cousin placed her hand over mine one afternoon, i seized the opportunity. I may just call it Lokia or Porkia or dorkia or norkia. Notice I spelt it NORKIA with an R and not NOKIA without an R. So no legal cases for me.&lt;br /&gt;Original: Nokia-connecting people&lt;br /&gt;Mine: Norkia-connecting some people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;The park&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177545878857236786" style="WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px" height="222" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pWi4WSwTI/AAAAAAAAAEE/dCGaxVL9VcA/s320/Paint+n+Nokia.jpg" width="241" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always loved to paint and I used to do it on cardboards with water colours. However, I did this using "paint" on the computer and then used sepia to come up with this image. I like to think it's a...never mind what I like to think. I'm just glad there's "paint" on the pc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Three scents &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pRlIWSwSI/AAAAAAAAAD8/cLTkV5TvuTs/s1600-h/18022008145-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177540419953803554" style="WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px" height="240" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pRlIWSwSI/AAAAAAAAAD8/cLTkV5TvuTs/s320/18022008145-001.jpg" width="269" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;These three perfumes were given to a friend of mine at about the same time by three different men who were and are still in love with her. I found the situation hilarious as I tried on the perfumes to see which one had the best scent. I'm hoping the best scent will win. She has no comment on that one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;My new pet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177549933306364226" style="WIDTH: 206px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px" height="240" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9paO4WSwUI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VMXdbe8c4L4/s320/My+new+pet.jpg" width="208" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;After Max died, I was in dire need of another pet and I found them in these flowers which I asked my neighbor's gardener to help plant infront of my house. I used to think that talking to plants was plain silly until I started talking to these ones. I talk to them while I feed them with water and sometimes I can swear they look pretty happy and excited to see me. My mother thinks I'm weird but then she gave birth to me so I'm wondering who is weirder...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pLioWSwQI/AAAAAAAAADs/YJEJ-jZYnm0/s1600-h/08032008533-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177533779934363906" style="WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 195px" height="291" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pLioWSwQI/AAAAAAAAADs/YJEJ-jZYnm0/s320/08032008533-001.jpg" width="242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes me, with my uneven eyebrows &lt;em&gt;[One rises up like an arc and the other is just plain flat. My sister thinks it's funny and I could care less]&lt;/em&gt; and my gap toothed smile. People like to think I'm nice, vulnerable, gentle and can't hurt a fly but I wish they'd look a little bit deeper...They'd see the ant squashed between my thumb and fore finger. Do you see those acne scars? No you can't! They're so faint now but you should have seen them like four years back when I would never have posed for a pic like this...thank God for the ability skin has to renew itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Cast no stones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pIq4WSwPI/AAAAAAAAADk/-mV0XqC1A0U/s1600-h/Cast+no+stones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177530623133401330" style="WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px" height="292" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pIq4WSwPI/AAAAAAAAADk/-mV0XqC1A0U/s320/Cast+no+stones.jpg" width="240" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I placed pebbles on my hand and took this shot. I then used features on my phone just like I explained in the picture below to come up with this. I called it cast no stones after the story of Jesus and the prostitute in the bible. I still wonder what happened to the man who paid for her services before she was caught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Hand art&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pEWYWSwOI/AAAAAAAAADc/h8bxM0iKGR8/s1600-h/Hand+art.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177525872899571938" style="WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px" height="240" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pEWYWSwOI/AAAAAAAAADc/h8bxM0iKGR8/s320/Hand+art.jpg" width="256" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to imagine I am one creative Italian photographer sometimes and in this picture, I placed two pebbles in my hand and snapped away. I then used the sepia and cartoon feature on my phone to create this image. I thought it was cool and I still think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Fruit cake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177525198589706450" style="WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" height="240" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pDvIWSwNI/AAAAAAAAADU/9V5dNjJoFaI/s320/22022008185.jpg" width="243" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went for a friend's birthday party and when his wife set out this gorgeous cake my eyes went pop! I love cakes! Chocolate is my best, Coffee is good too. And I love to delve in with my spoon, slice off a chunk of creamy chocolatey goodness, put it in my mouth and close my eyes in sheer ecstacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Sir Charles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pBWIWSwLI/AAAAAAAAADE/URpNYQRqu1E/s1600-h/Sir+Charles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177522570069721266" style="WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" height="187" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pBWIWSwLI/AAAAAAAAADE/URpNYQRqu1E/s320/Sir+Charles.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A smoker friend of mine once gave me his ash tray as a souvenir. He washed out all the ash in it and had it wrapped up for me. I love the way it looks and I filled it up with stones. I like to pretend it is 12th century gothic art and that it's been passed on from one generation to another. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Labadi stones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pDAIWSwMI/AAAAAAAAADM/uOSPEw9moh4/s1600-h/Stones+from+ghana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177524391135854786" style="WIDTH: 179px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px" height="155" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pDAIWSwMI/AAAAAAAAADM/uOSPEw9moh4/s320/Stones+from+ghana.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the stones I picked from Labadi beach in Ghana. My friend who's married to a Ghanaian had a great eye and selected more beautiful stones than I did. But still I love these ones. Especially that huge black one. Sometimes I place them down the length of my arm and imagine I am at a spa having stone therapy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;TIP:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Get a lovely transparent glass cup or container of any kind, fill it with water and dropp coloured pebbles and shells in it. It makes for one striking colourful decor piece. It's cheap and doesn't take time to make. Light a scented candle next to it and it makes for one beautiful romantic setting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ok, that's it folks. Hope you enjoyed my picture rants. Today's the Mega JAM festival organized by House on the Rock, Abuja and I'm gonna be there live. You're all invited. I'd probably be wearing a brown t-shirt with my name pasted on it and jeans. So you can look out for me [Yeah, right!]. Don Moen's going to be around and I'm dying to work my way up to him to teach him an igala song. Did I hear you say not on my life?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'll show you impossible is a word that doesn't really exist.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have a great weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I HATE SEEING SO MUCH SPACE HERE!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;TRUTH BE TOLD, I FEEL VERY ALIVE AND HAPPY TODAY. LIKE SOMETHING GOOD'S ABOUT TO HAPPEN TO ME.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I WONDER WHAT IT IS?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ANYWAY, I HOPE THIS HAS TAKEN SOME OF THE SPACE AWAY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;AND OH, I'M READING "LOSING MY VIRGINITY" BY RICHARD BRANSON AND IT'S SO INTERESTING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT BEFORE DO GIVE IT A TRY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;why all this space? I find it annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-5250159137835107988?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/5250159137835107988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=5250159137835107988' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/5250159137835107988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/5250159137835107988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/03/picture-rants.html' title='Picture Rants'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R9pcUIWSwVI/AAAAAAAAAEU/S2J1TwiRSw8/s72-c/Hands+off.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-8054334359145175994</id><published>2008-03-10T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T05:53:20.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Part III-conclusion</title><content type='html'>Oh yes, he had been doing the same thing to them too and threatening them into keeping quiet. &lt;em&gt;[I still wonder till today why no one noticed. How did he get away with all this? ]&lt;/em&gt; I was furious and indignant and livid and angry! I could taste the bile in my mouth. Somehow I couldn’t hold it in anymore and went to see my dad for a talk. If my dad was shocked, he hid it well but I could tell he was furious and sad. He told me not to tell my mom with good reason-she’d kill my cousin [I still haven’t told her to this day]. Anyway my cousin was no longer with us and had moved on to my aunt’s house in another city. My dad called her to warn her that they were harboring a Mr. Jekyll and Dr. Hyde. I guess it was too late for he had touched some of the kids there too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt much freer after this but I had my polluted mind to deal with. So much garbage had gone into it and it was going to take some time to clear it out. I started reading my bible more often, threw out all my novels [You know there’s a lot of written porn in many romance novels today] and avoided watching soaps for sometime. It wasn’t easy but I was determined to be free. And it was working. I had many relapses though but this was where I learnt there is no such thing as over-night success. You keep trying, you keep falling but you keep picking yourself up and trying again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still I hated my cousin and didn’t want to see him ever again.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, one day I stumbled upon a diary and discovered it was his. I was thrilled to find it and eagerly leafed through the pages looking for something to nab him with. It was full of phone numbers and addresses and then a few unimportant info here and there. Then I came across an entry he had made and I was shocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In paraphrase [I would be a wizard if I could remember it word for word]:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Please God, help me. I can’t help myself. I hate what I have become but I can’t seem to help myself. I hate what I do but I can’t stop…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Needless to say, I was shocked, confused and then angry. This devil of a cousin had the audacity to go to God?! I hoped God will never forgive him and that he will die with his sins on his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fancy that! They destroy your life and still have the guts to cry out to God for mercy? If you’ve watched T.D Jakes “Woman thou art loosed” [The movie], you’d understand what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I got into the university and had other things to occupy myself with for a while. It was funny I never dated any guy until my last year in school. I guess I had a lot of healing to do. But gradually I started getting much better and making progress. I fast discovered I wasn’t the only girl who’d gone through stuff like this. And one day I began wondering about my cousin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was it possible someone else had also done the same thing to him too when he was a child?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a long story but somehow I struggled to forgive him and though it was somewhat difficult, I realized I couldn’t keep hating him for the rest of my life. It takes too much energy to hate someone. If anything I felt pity for him. He was going to have to live with this on his conscience for the rest of his life and that was enough punishment in my opinion so I forgave him and moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got married last year and I called him the morning of his wedding to congratulate him. His wife is a nice woman and I hope she never leaves him entirely alone with their babies when they start making them. [He seems different but to me he will always be a man to be wary of] My sister still hates him but I guess these things take time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a long tedious journey but I made it and I'm still on my way. It's amazing how I can look back at this horid event and feel no pain or anger. There was a time I never believed it possible;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You take care and watch your kids!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-8054334359145175994?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/8054334359145175994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=8054334359145175994' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8054334359145175994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/8054334359145175994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/03/part-iii-conclusion.html' title='Part III-conclusion'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-1581831182931993076</id><published>2008-03-05T03:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T07:26:54.192-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disvirgined virgin II</title><content type='html'>I was 12 and here I was with a secret that was so dark it was choking me. Yet there was nothing I could do about it. And no one even noticed because I was pretty normal in every other way. At school, I maintained my good grades, still loved drawing &amp;amp; painting, still made clothes for my dolls, still laughed, my life was normal and what was happening with my cousin was just a bad dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except it wasn’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between, I had developed an attraction for anything erotic. I first started with the magazine in which the main porn star was Dauda; I think it was called Lolly or something. Then Mills &amp;amp; Boons came into the picture and then James Hardly Chase. Soon, I was touching myself and fantasying about the men I read of in the books and even about my cousin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about 14 when I found out the word for what I was doing. It was in Sister Mary- George’s class. She was teaching on sex and she mentioned the word masturbation and described it to the class. I couldn’t look at the board after that and the shame I felt was intense. At home, I checked the word out in a dictionary just to be sure and I found that Sister Mary was not lying.&lt;br /&gt;My life spiraled out of control after this; my parents were going through a separation and I couldn’t tell anyone what I was going through. Who would understand? Who would help me? I thought sometimes about killing myself but I was too much of a coward to do this [thank God!]; so instead I’d pinch myself till it hurt and I’d cry.&lt;br /&gt;Still no one noticed anything was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By 16, I realized I needed help. But who to meet? Where to go to? Then one day, I couldn’t take it any longer. I knew about God but felt that he hated me as much as I hated myself and was ready to kill me. Still, I felt the strong urge to kneel by my bed and pray. I did kneel by my bed but I couldn’t pray. Instead I cried. My body racked from my sobs and I cried for a long time. It’s hard to explain what happened next and it’s possible many people won’t believe me but suddenly I knew someone else was in the room with me and he was holding me tenderly. I couldn’t see him but I could feel him and I felt buried in a thick cloud of warmth. I raised my tear stained face and for the first time in my life I knew I was free. I felt extremely light, almost like a feather and I knew from then on everything was going to be ok. I remember getting up and laughing with excitement. I felt like running round the house shouting freedom! Freedom! This memory will die with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a friend who keeps telling me God doesn’t exist and that Jesus is just mostly a figment of man’s imagination and sometimes his arguments are so strong I also begin to wonder. But then I remember what happened in that room many years ago besides other things and I just know God is real and alive and that He is crazy about me in a way no one else is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my life started to look up after this and I began to thirst for God. I wish I could say things got better  and that the nightmare ended but oh no it didn’t.&lt;br /&gt;It was at this time I discovered that this same cousin had also been seeking out my sister and brother…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-1581831182931993076?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/1581831182931993076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=1581831182931993076' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1581831182931993076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/1581831182931993076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/03/disvirgined-virgin-ii.html' title='Disvirgined virgin II'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-207937035358260039</id><published>2008-03-05T03:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T04:03:48.735-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='innocence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guilt'/><title type='text'>Disvirgined virgin</title><content type='html'>He always managed to find me which wasn't such a surprise as we lived in the same house. He would pull me to himself, raise my skirt, pull down my pants and push his fingers in so hard that it hurt. When he was done, he would arrange my clothes and warn me not to tell. And I would nodd my agreement and watch him walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about 7 or even younger. He was perhaps 15 or maybe even older. He was my cousin and he was a monster no one knew lived in the house. And this monster was taking away my innocence everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This went on untill I was about 11. By then I knew what he was all about and I allowed him do whatever it was he wanted to do. Somehow I wanted him to do it. Push his hands into my skirt and do what he had to do. He would also bring out his penis and ask me to hold unto it. I was scared and curious and guilty and damned and helpless...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By age 12, I discovered what the word sex meant in a dictionary and I realised I had been engaging in some mild form of it all this while. Somehow finding out exactly what the word meant and how it applied to my situation set something off in me. I hated him and I hated myself even more. No one knew. And that was how I wanted it to remain. A dark secret that would somehow eventually kill me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oneday I was in the dinning and he rushed and grabbed my breasts. I was 12 and just budding and if you're a woman, you'll no doubt understand how painful it is for anyone to even mildly touch your breasts at this stage. Well, this cousin did and I was so upset I picked up an empty coke bottle I found by the door and launched at him. I wanted to kill him and not just because he had touched my breasts but because of everything he had done to me. My hatred was enough fuel to help me inflict some pain on him even if I was just a skinny little girl and I was determined to do it until I heard my mom's scream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ejura, what is wrong with you?!!!"&lt;/em&gt; My mom shouted. I was breathing hard and staring my cousin in the face, my face set as rock.&lt;br /&gt;I pointed the bottle at him and let out a string of insults "Stupid, idiot, devil...!!!". My mom had never seen me that way before and she was surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Don't you have any respect for your seniors?"&lt;/em&gt; She shouted at me while I watched my cousin smirk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Apologize now"&lt;/em&gt; She ordered but I knew I was never going to do that and as I looked at my mom I wondered if I should tell her everything. My lips trembled with rage as I contemplated my next step and I finally decided to keep quiet.&lt;br /&gt;She won't understand. She'd blame me for everything. Everyone would. Will. Shall. I was guilty and that was it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-207937035358260039?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/207937035358260039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=207937035358260039' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/207937035358260039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/207937035358260039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/03/disvirgined-virgin.html' title='Disvirgined virgin'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-4458057579125588181</id><published>2008-03-03T23:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T23:56:45.500-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wondering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proverb'/><title type='text'>Wondering...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"A bird in hand is worth two in the bush"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;  What if the bird in hand is dead?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-4458057579125588181?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/4458057579125588181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=4458057579125588181' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4458057579125588181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4458057579125588181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/03/wondering.html' title='Wondering...'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3451216099253362462</id><published>2008-02-27T00:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T01:51:46.555-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swing'/><title type='text'>Swinging</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8UrVdNhRLI/AAAAAAAAACc/-I1l_ar_gI4/s1600-h/couple+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171587394723464370" style="WIDTH: 110px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px" height="127" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8UrVdNhRLI/AAAAAAAAACc/-I1l_ar_gI4/s320/couple+5.jpg" width="93" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8Uq2tNhRKI/AAAAAAAAACU/sVZw3RpAEBE/s1600-h/couple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171586866442486946" style="WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 143px" height="126" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8Uq2tNhRKI/AAAAAAAAACU/sVZw3RpAEBE/s320/couple.jpg" width="101" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8Ur49NhRMI/AAAAAAAAACk/sKwPKfZTZmY/s1600-h/couple+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171588004608820418" style="WIDTH: 152px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 209px" height="138" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8Ur49NhRMI/AAAAAAAAACk/sKwPKfZTZmY/s320/couple+2.jpg" width="126" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8UsrNNhRNI/AAAAAAAAACs/xZMy3SPP5zE/s1600-h/couple+7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171588867897246930" style="WIDTH: 125px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px" height="126" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8UsrNNhRNI/AAAAAAAAACs/xZMy3SPP5zE/s320/couple+7.jpg" width="124" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8UyR9NhROI/AAAAAAAAAC0/gy1LuzfMm8U/s1600-h/swing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171595031175316706" style="WIDTH: 122px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px" height="151" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8UyR9NhROI/AAAAAAAAAC0/gy1LuzfMm8U/s320/swing.jpg" width="122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As a child, swinging was what I did for fun. I would place my little behind on the wooden seat and beg John, the gardener to push my swing just so I could gather enough momentum to see me through my air bound journey.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It was such a thrill to see myself go higher and higher with every swing while Mama Emma would stand by and sing:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Lilo da dadi, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;  Lilo da dadi, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;  ka da yaro ya fado..."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Translated: "Swinging is sweet but let the child not fall..." [Pardon my Hausa].&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I can't remember when last I swung &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333399;"&gt;[swinged? swang? oh whatever]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; though. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So you can imagine how thrilled I was when I found out about the swingers club.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A swinging club? Like exercise or something? Trust these whites to come up with different sports! That pleasurable activity that thrilled me so much as a child is now a sport! Fancy that!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Silly me! How was I to know that swinging would have any connection whatsoever with sex? I'm fast learning however that words do have more than one meaning these days. Eg. A milk shake is no longer just a drink...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So back to swinging other wise known as the lifestyle. Why in anyone's name would a married couple go to a club to have sex with another married couple? It beats me, seriously. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;John and Mary need to spice up their sex&lt;br /&gt;lives and the only way to do it is to go to a swingers club and have sex with&lt;br /&gt;Shawn and Nancy? Or John would watch Mary have sex with Shawn in order to feel&lt;br /&gt;some sexual excitement?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Couples sleep with other couples to have fun? My goodness! What have we become? It seems with every generation a new form of sexual depravity is created. Laboratories are constructed in eccentric minds and new formulas are created...sex is unleashed in the most sickening creative ways!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wonder what the devil sees in sex that makes him want to destroy it so. Why is he so bent on distorting the original? And why do people just go with the flow? Why can't we stop and really see how none of it makes sense. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I remember when Limbo was on heat. She wasn't such a pretty bitch but then all the dogs in the neighbourhood went after her like she was the queen bee. I watched them gather around her and a brawl always ensued but the strongest or maybe the most determined always won. The others at least had the decency to leave. They didn't all stand around and engage in an orgy! No, they had the common sense to leave the bitch alone with the dog of her dreams! And I thought homosapiens were the higher species...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;May the Lord help us with all the self control we need. May this generation seek the truth and may we find it!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm going swinging soon and when I say swinging, I mean sitting on that wooden chair and swaying back and forth till I am high up in the sky. My goodness, even this sentence seems ambigious! Lord help us! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3451216099253362462?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3451216099253362462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3451216099253362462' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3451216099253362462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3451216099253362462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/02/swinging.html' title='Swinging'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8UrVdNhRLI/AAAAAAAAACc/-I1l_ar_gI4/s72-c/couple+5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-2147342548136137983</id><published>2008-02-25T02:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T00:05:23.054-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='african magic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ghana'/><title type='text'>Gollywood</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I'm not exactly an African Magic fan but with my mum in possession of the remote I usually don't have many choices. And if I don't have a good novel to escape to, I resign myself to sitting by her side on the settee and trying to amuse myself with the amazing &lt;em&gt;[for lack of another adjective]&lt;/em&gt; movies shown on African magic.&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I've been seeing a lot of Ghanaian movies on the channel and I'm glad for the change. I don't particularly enjoy Nigerian movies so why not try the black star?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;However, it seems Gollywood &lt;em&gt;[I'm not sure what they are called but I assume they also bear the "wood" name ]&lt;/em&gt; can boast of only four actors at the moment. You would come to the same conclusion if you've watched the number of Ghanaian movies I have watched in a space of one week and seen the same cast in all of them! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The movie I watched yesterday was quite entertaining by African movie standards and left me in stitches as they always do and this not because they are intended to be comedies.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's title?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Very catchy-"&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Beyonce, the president's daughter&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lead characters with extremely interesting names as follows:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. &lt;em&gt;President's daughter&lt;/em&gt;- &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Beyonce &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Coincidentally an American artiste's name]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Lover boy-&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Raj&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;[Indian name]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Lover boy's girlfriend before Beyonce comes into picture- &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ciara.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Another artiste's name]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Story line-&lt;em&gt;The indian movie-"The promise" which I call Sunita. You remember that movie don't you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Summary of the movie:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Beyonce and Ciara fight for Raj's love. Lol! The names just make me laugh. What happened to all the Ghanaian names? It didn't exactly end like The promise did though. This one's ending was a waste of film resources. I mean who writes these stories?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Anyway, here's introducing the ONLY four actors in Gollywood&lt;em&gt;-[I got their pics off the screen but couldn't get the fourth character's face because Beyonce had poured acid on her by that time and when she resurfaced she had a different face and a different body and different hair and...ok, just got her off the net now.]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Van Vicker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170892121122620498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" height="240" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8Ky_NNhRFI/AAAAAAAAABs/A0UagTSoloA/s320/24022008226.jpg" width="158" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Fine half cast dude, lover boy character in all the movies, has the ability to cry at the drop of a hat,cries too much in my opinion, fine hair. Maybe Teco Benson should cast him in an action flic for a change one of these days. Won't be bad to see him act alongside Hanks Anuku.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Played Raj.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8LEHtNhRGI/AAAAAAAAAB0/LVaUzaXkECI/s1600-h/24022008230.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170910958849180770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" height="30" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8LEHtNhRGI/AAAAAAAAAB0/LVaUzaXkECI/s320/24022008230.jpg" width="6" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Nadia Buari&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love this lady's eyes! They are doll like and give her this "&lt;em&gt;I can't hurt a fly"&lt;/em&gt; look. She's also soft spoken and calm. Like the dude above, she's half cast too. Ghanaians like Nigerians I can see favour light skinned actors. Such a shame because I know many talented dark skinned people. Even yours truly who is chocolate skinned wouldn't mind a stint at acting. We should just go tone up, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;She played Beyonce-the president's daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8LSitNhRII/AAAAAAAAACE/LiM9XdlLv24/s1600-h/24022008239.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170926815868437634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px" height="240" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8LSitNhRII/AAAAAAAAACE/LiM9XdlLv24/s320/24022008239.jpg" width="228" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;This slender light skinned Ghanaian acts the mother role in every movie I have seen her in. She's either Raj's mother in one film or Beyonce's mother in another. She's usually always portrayed as wealthy and wicked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;In Beyonce, the president's daughter she once again acted mother to our fine half cast guy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170931518857626770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px" height="177" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8LW0dNhRJI/AAAAAAAAACM/DpuZS6cyAAA/s320/jackie_l_00%5B1%5D.jpg" width="192" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Jackie Appiah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;This is the only dark skinned member of the quartet. She has a very pretty face and lovely eyes in my opinion. She suffers a lot for love in her movies. You should see what she went through in Beyonce-the president's daughter! But what's that they say about African magic? Yes, where love conquers all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I think it's high time they organized a talent hunt in Ghana to fish out new talents. Naija should do same too; highly talented potential actresses like me should not be let in the dark for too long. Give us some spotlight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-2147342548136137983?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/2147342548136137983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=2147342548136137983' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2147342548136137983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/2147342548136137983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/02/gollywood.html' title='Gollywood'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R8Ky_NNhRFI/AAAAAAAAABs/A0UagTSoloA/s72-c/24022008226.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-7391982394381080225</id><published>2008-02-22T05:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T06:22:14.144-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Amour is French for love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R77USdNhREI/AAAAAAAAABk/bOOd4fc2kvE/s1600-h/brown+chickens.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169802835811976258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R77USdNhREI/AAAAAAAAABk/bOOd4fc2kvE/s320/brown+chickens.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Valentine's over but &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;is still in the air in Abuja. I am not talking about the valentines, chocolates and cards still on display in many shops around. No, I am talking about the real thing. It seems Cupid's been very busy shooting those arrows!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Otherwise how can you explain the fact that three of my very close friends have found love and are even altar bound anytime soon. You should see them tell their stories.Why, it's all they talk about these days and I am happily lovesick for them.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Eyes huge and bright&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Glowing skin&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Enormous smiles&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One even lost the weight she's been struggling to lose for a while now and they all look more beautiful and confident. When I ask them what they like about their guys, read what I get.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Friend 1:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He's so nice and I am so at peace in my heart. We share many interests and I can talk to him about anything and everything...He complements me. He makes me laugh. We talk for hours and we still have so much to talk about everytime we speak again...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Friend 2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;He's so nice and has a great sense of humour. I can talk to him about everything and he loves me so much. He's always bringing me gifts. Look at my phone, see all the texts he sends me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Friend 3:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;He's so nice and calm and he makes me feel so at peace. With him, I can talk about anything and everything. He doesn't have so much money but I love him and he's just who I need...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You should hear them speak, you'd think they are singing. And when they mention their guys' names, you'd swear their tongues were dipped in honey! Really. Sometimes I can even see- as in actually see -the glitter in their eyes! And their guys all share something in common-they are ready to talk with their women about everything and anything. Bros, that's really important to us oh!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friends I wish you the best! You deserve great men and I hope you've truly found them now.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;***Oh Cupid, shoot me soon, I beseech thee! And please use the right arrow this time. I wasn't at all pleased with the last one***&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have a great weekend!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ps: I took the picture of the chickens. What do you guys think? Do you think I have what it takes to be a pro photographer someday?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-7391982394381080225?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/7391982394381080225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=7391982394381080225' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7391982394381080225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/7391982394381080225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/02/amour-is-french-for-love.html' title='Amour is French for love'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R77USdNhREI/AAAAAAAAABk/bOOd4fc2kvE/s72-c/brown+chickens.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-106887062302478915</id><published>2008-02-21T06:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T07:45:54.886-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trousers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>Thou shall not wear men's clothing!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72WJtNhRBI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ZGuL_XZUgEk/s1600-h/pants+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169453040790488082" style="WIDTH: 113px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" height="133" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72WJtNhRBI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ZGuL_XZUgEk/s320/pants+2.jpg" width="113" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72V-dNhRAI/AAAAAAAAABI/yhiE0UKEdac/s1600-h/pants+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169452847516959746" style="WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" height="124" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72V-dNhRAI/AAAAAAAAABI/yhiE0UKEdac/s320/pants+1.jpg" width="79" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72WXdNhRCI/AAAAAAAAABY/P_FgHgqwKWA/s1600-h/trouser.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169453277013689378" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72WXdNhRCI/AAAAAAAAABY/P_FgHgqwKWA/s320/trouser.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ok, now I am beginning to think that sometimes we take things a little bit too far in the name of spirituality and religion.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Badagry experience:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was in French school in Badagry and they had this "extra mile" fellowship that held after all our compulsory socio-educatif[ve] classes. Socio-educatif was a period were all the students gathered in the hall and watched movies, or debated or acted dramas etc. It was meant to be fun and so we were allowed to dress casual. Well, casual for me was my t-shirt and my shorts which were actually very decent since my shorts were knee length. Ok, so oneday I am invited for the extra mile and I go. There's another girl wearing t-shirts and shorts like I am and everyone seems ok with it when all of a sudden a girl goes into the spirit and starts shaking, jerking and prophesying. She said something about God being angry with those of us that had shorts on and how we were to desist from such behaviour blah blah blah.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My attendance at this meeting was limited after that.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sokoto experience:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As a corp member in Sokoto there was this early morning prayer I used to attend in church. It entailed getting up as early as 5 am, going to church and praying for like an hour or so. I was glad to attend it because I needed that kind of fellowship at the time. It was the harmattan season and if you've ever lived in the north, you'll understand how extreme the weather can be when it is cold. So I'd put on my trousers, a large sweater, wrap my face up and together with my friends hit the road. Sokoto doesn't really have buses and taxis as means of public transportation. They have lots of bikes though and it is easier to climb those machines when you have trousers on.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well, one morning the pastor gets on the pulpit and bans all ladies from putting on trousers! Can you imagine that! He didn't mind that it was cold or that the bikes weren't exactly skirt friendly, he just wanted us to stop putting on trousers. I tried to obey but it didn't work for me so I stopped going.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My little cousin:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72UhtNhQ_I/AAAAAAAAABA/Q52LA73AdeY/s1600-h/17022008124.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169451254084092914" style="WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px" height="41" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72UhtNhQ_I/AAAAAAAAABA/Q52LA73AdeY/s320/17022008124.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This is the reason for this post. I went just last week to see my four year old cousin because it was her birthday and I was mighty glad to see her. I love this girl so much that sometimes I am tempted to steal her away from her mom and make her mine. Anyway her mom told me how her little princess was brought out infront of the entire sunday school class by the sunday school coordinator.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;She said he asked the other children this question:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Is this child a girl or a boy?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The children responded &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"She's a boy!"&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Obviously he had already taught them his version]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then the coordinator said:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Whoever her parents are should take note. Girls should not wear trousers to church. As from two years old girls should not be allowed to wear trousers to church!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was so angry when I heard this! So livid! I mean what does all that mean? Is a four year old seducing any man in her baggy jeans trousers? What exactly is the definition of men's clothing? Is it those funny looking skirts or whatever it is called that the Scots wear? Or is it the gowns that Moses and all are portrayed wearing in those bible movies? Please someone help me understand this...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-106887062302478915?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/106887062302478915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=106887062302478915' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/106887062302478915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/106887062302478915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/02/thou-shall-not-wear-mans-clothing.html' title='Thou shall not wear men&apos;s clothing!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R72WJtNhRBI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ZGuL_XZUgEk/s72-c/pants+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-3996896387646161715</id><published>2008-02-18T02:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T02:38:02.816-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='envy'/><title type='text'>No heading</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Yep, I am back and pretty much excited about having a blog again. I'm not sure I am as excited about the actual act of blogging though. I think I'm having writer's block and this block feels really huge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to write a book for a while now. Actually, I think I have been trying to do this for like three years now. But the problem is I can't get past the first three pages. Geskiya, I have tried but... And I so want to win the pink prize or even the purple since Chimamanda has already taken the orange one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is kinda slow at the moment and I am bored. Boredom is a bad kingdom to be in. You either start thinking more or yawning more.&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I've been thinking about dreams and reality. You know how it is when you have these amazing lofty dreams but reality seems to be sucking the living day lights out of them. The whole scenerio just drains your energy.&lt;br /&gt;You want to be successful but the journey up that hill seems pretty slow and too tough. You do all you know to do but somehow it's like sipping from the ocean-you don't see any effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you've just about had it all, a friend calls and tells you she just landed this huge contract or bought another car or got this raise or got another cool job...&lt;br /&gt;And you're screaming excitedly with her saying "Congrats! I am so happy for you!" when you're dying from envy inside-loving her and hating her at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sigh* Life is beautifully complicated. I really don't know how I'd manage without God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fast forward next five years and you're calling a friend bursting with excitement with news of your mega new job. She screams and celebrates with you all the while burning with envy. The cycle continues.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-3996896387646161715?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/3996896387646161715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=3996896387646161715' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3996896387646161715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/3996896387646161715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/02/yep-i-am-back-and-pretty-much-excited.html' title='No heading'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8589898396309211509.post-4654598101128368093</id><published>2008-02-15T01:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T07:11:50.937-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ejura continues'/><title type='text'>Unveiling the ejura continues-2008 model!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ok, I got myself a new home. Thanks to extreme makeover-blog edition!&lt;br /&gt;No more "phantoming" about like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://inyamuakut.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fantasy Queen&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; put it. So this is the beginning of the &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;ejura continues-2008 model&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. It's basically going to be the same thing as ejura; it's only slighty modified.&lt;br /&gt;I'll blog when I have the zeal to and chill when I don't and in between, I'll live life as best as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Y'all are invited to a house warming party. I'd supply the glasses, you bring the wine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R7Vhy9NhQ5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/YGh2C0R9B2s/s1600-h/CRYSTAL_WINE_GLASSES_TIF.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167143675530134418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" height="267" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R7Vhy9NhQ5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/YGh2C0R9B2s/s400/CRYSTAL_WINE_GLASSES_TIF.gif" width="274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's going to be an after party &lt;a href="http://just-saying-my-mind.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://andyneuro1.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;here&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;too. cyber your way there!!! Ciao&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8589898396309211509-4654598101128368093?l=ejura-ejura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/feeds/4654598101128368093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8589898396309211509&amp;postID=4654598101128368093' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4654598101128368093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8589898396309211509/posts/default/4654598101128368093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ejura-ejura.blogspot.com/2008/02/unveiling-ejura-continues-2008-model.html' title='Unveiling the ejura continues-2008 model!'/><author><name>ejura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456929799350307978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/SHtqnAA-EEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/mWFa7CJdrHU/S220/Picture(19)-001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NJbczm2JAfc/R7Vhy9NhQ5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/YGh2C0R9B2s/s72-c/CRYSTAL_WINE_GLASSES_TIF.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
