9 Thoughts of an Amazing Nigerian Blogger Boy.

1.   Lagbaja has refused to show his face still. I kinda respect him for that. Or did he open his face at some point in time when I wasn’t looking?
Ego has hereby faded into oblivion. Where did she go sef? Why did she leave Lagbaja?

2. D’Banj basically has become a useless whats-his-face without Don Jazzy. Now Don Jazzy is making all the hits with Tiwa Savage and D’Banj must be somewhere out there in the cold, gnashing his teeth, drinking his Koko garri with salt and fish, Or just an energy drink, wishing, just wishing. 

3. Me too I want to do song with Don Jazzy o. Anyone who reads this and knows someone who knows someone that knows him should link us up o. Please. I can be a great star and I am forever loyal.

4. Where on earth is Tara Reid?

5. I had a dream, did a music video with Phyno, the name of the song was………..wait for it………..’Bitch Face’.

Don’t judge me.

6. I will soon start posting videos on Youtube. Videos of me singing of course.
Watch out!!!

7. I think Nigeria is the only country in the world without steady (or close to steady) power supply. I haven’t Googled it. I don’t think I need to. Just tell me if I’m right or wrong. But I feel I’m right. This country is a jungle.

8. I shouted at one man at the International Airport Immigration desk on my return to Lagos. He tried to skip the line and I went out of my way to cause a scene shouting down daggers and thunderbolts on the man. At some point he started to cuss in Yoruba and from the depths of my soul I raged “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! AT YOUR AGE YOU CANNOT SET A GOOD EXAMPLE BY STANDING IN LINE. FILTHY IMBECILE!!! IDIOTS LIKE YOU GIVE NIGERIA A BAD NAME!!!!

When I was done, the incredible hulk vanished and the immigration officials came begging me to calm down, and of course they made sure the ugly eel was attended to last. And I left smiling, fine as ever.

9. This morning, while I was walking to work, the Federal Road Safety Corps stopped me and tried to arrest me. I asked them why, seeing as I was WALKING, they told me I was too fine to be walking the streets thereby constituting a hazard to those driving past who may be in too much awe of my presence and crash into a pole or other not-so-glorious pedestrians.

*puts on sunshades*
*adjusts shirt*

If only.


Dear Diary,

       So here’s an interesting story. I got to South Africa to compete in a TV music game show…and failed spectacularly.


At this moment, I’m simply trying to feel something. I’m sure I will soon. Just not yet. And I am yearning to feel something; hurt, disappointment, gratitude, shame, tears, anything. Maybe I need to process this with time.

But before I start feeling any or all of those, here’s what I know firsthand

1. It is a learning experience. Granted, the song I sang wasn’t my strongest, definitely not the intended way I would have sang it. But I did. And I’m gonna learn from it. Maybe write an album. Be stronger. Bolder.

2. It is never the end. I am gonna be a singer. The fact that I got voted off a show doesn’t mean I have no talent or I’m less amazing. I know who I am, what I have and can do. And now I will fight uninhibitedly to do what I love to do and can do. Sing.

3. I think I needed this fail more than a win. I really do. I kinda almost expected to get this on a platter of gold, no matter how nervous I was about doing this. Now as I said before, I’m gonna think long and hard. And I’m gonna learn something from this. Not sure what yet. But I will. I will not make excuses. Destiny depends on me.

Now I have to go. I feel something welling up in my inside.

Maybe it’s the tears.

I don’t even know what to say at this point.

Which do you prefer; the original song or the cover?

Dear Diary,

        Happy Sunday to you. It’s a happy day, isn’t it? A restful day. I feel it. Had a wonderful time in God’s presence.

Anyway, a radio show I was listening to this afternoon sparked something I wanna evaluate.
Songs whose original versions trump all covers and songs whose covers trump the originals.


Herein are songs whose original singers killed so much so that nobody else can sing ’em better and no one else can ever outdo the original.

1. Whitney Houston. I have nothing.


I dare you to find me a better version of this.

2. Beyoncé’s….actually I haven’t heard any cover better than any of her original songs.


Maybe you have. I haven’t.

3. Mariah Carey. My All.


Not even she has been able to sing that song properly again.

4. Michael Jackson. Hold Me.


This song is just epic. Simply put.

5. Toni Braxton. Unbreak my heart.


First off, she looks like a cross between a young Vivica Fox and Halle Berry.

Then, I’m sorry. Toni killed that song mehn!!!


This is all them songs that were resung and KILLED by artists other than the original, and whose versions are generally preferred over the original by a larger number of people.

1. Whitney Houston. I will always love you.


The original song was performed by Dolly Parton. Did you know?

2. Michael Bolton. When a man loves a woman.


Percy Sledge performed it first.


I know right.

3. Alexandre Burke. Hallelujah.


Tha original was performed by Jeff Buckley in 1970 something or so. Who cares? Alexandre’s version is just EVERYTHING.

4. Céline Dion. Power of Love.


Bet you didn’t know that it was a cover version of Jennifer Rush’s own original sometime in the 80s.
But Céline sang the hell outta that song though. I had this classmate in primary school who would sing it everyday and cry. What the hell did she know of love?

5. Pentatonix cover versions of mostly every song they sing.


That group is amazing.

Have I missed any?

Basically my weekend was…


Yesterday Vivienne dragged me to a wedding.
In Ikeja.
As her date.
Much younger date.
You know,
younger men…
older women…
All the rage now.

Anyway, the wedding, I don’t want to diss it, but I will summarise it all:
the rude caterers, the waiters that bluntly refused to serve us food or drinks, the rowdy guests; more than half of which of course are unknown to the bride and groom, the few polished people that looked so uncomfortable seated amongst the uncouth majority, the male and female M.Cs that were deeply not-funny and whose jokes grated on my nerves, the passersby who saw a wedding party and crashed it to eat free food, the people who went around with crisp N100 notes to sell for those archaic people who still spray money on newlyweds during their first dance despite CBN’s ban on that Naira-bastardizing act, the simply awful people who hid their plates of just-finished food under their tables and then said to the waiters “Since I came, I haven’t even seen water to drink.”,
I summarise it all with this picture of the plate of small chops I finally received.


Today, Service was great. My old friend I don’t get to see often, Kezi came to my church and since people seem to think we look alike, I took him round and paraded him off as my brother and everyone fell for it.


He so vain, ain’t he?


It’s raining profusely. It’s Segun’s birthday


and he (left) Gbenga. (right) and I(nowhere in sight) were supposed to go see X-Men together but alas, the rains would not let them even near Surulere. 😦 ߘȰߑ

Tomorrow is the day I shall summon the courage to inform my boss that I am off to South Africa to partake in a televised music talent competition show. I hope he takes it well, and says yes. If he doesn’t, well, I’m still going shaaa.

Dear Diary,

        Where have all the singing boys gone? Did the world grow tired of seeing pretty Irish and American boys with silly choreographed music videos, pretty little voices and slightly higher-than-normal tendencies to not age well group themselves into boy bands to cover up their lack of actual talent?

Was that too much grammar for you?

OK. Westlife.


Remember that time they were all over the place? Everyone used to sing-along-ding-dong to their hit songs (mostly covered versions of other people’s songs). I didn’t fancy them that much but I won’t lie, I loved some of their songs. I looooooved the one they did with Mariah Carey, and I loved “Ooh Mandy since you came and you gave without taking….”. Ego my dear sister (whose picture I shall insert below)

used to buy those softsell pop song books and have vigil rehearsals singing everyone of Westlife and Backstreet Boys’ songs.

Speaking of has been boy band sensations. Where on earth have the Backstreet Boys gone to?


Them, I liked. Larger than life, I want it that way, Show me the meaning of being lonely…., and others. Oh I loved me some good ol’ Backstreet Boys songs back in the day. They were so relevant then.

I also loved Blue.
Blue, anyone?


Eyaaa, they sang one song I really love till now. “If it’s wrong to tell the truth, what am I supposed to do, cause all I wanna do is speak my mind. If it’s wrong to do what’s right, something something testify, if loving you with all my heart’s a crime, then I’m guilty.”
Don’t you just just love the British?!

I also heard of Boyzone.


Anyone know who that is?
Me neither.
But remember what I said about these boy band boys not aging well.


They look like your father’s creepy white colleagues at the office that went out to sing karaoke and because they got a few claps, they decided music was suddenly for them.

Oh well.

Blackstreet Boys?


Blackstreet Boys?



Ummm….what about Boy Bands that disappeared leaving one man to stand as a beacon to the world? E.g. N’sync that died but Justin Timberlake still lives.


Which N’sync song does anyone even know sef?

What about our own Plantashun Boiz? Tacky as hell stage name though. Tuface, Faze and Blackface.


So far. Only Tuface lives. And boy, does he live!!!

Styl Plus.


I mourn their demise more than every other boy band in the world cause they were special. They could sing, their songs were beautiful. I don’t know what happened to them till now.
Styl Plus, wherever you are. You may never be HUGE again as a group but I enjoyed your time in the light.

The world seems to have gotten bored of boy bands. So I wonder what One Direction’s plan is. And my dear friends who are still thinking of starting groups like that. Please don’t.

Stayed Up All Night Watching Scandal

Dear Diary,

       I slept at Ego’s house last night. (Ego is my big sister. Not so big though. Just 2 years bigger)
I went there because she cooked Afang soup. And I had to eat that.

Although it’d be more apt to say I STAYED at Ego’s last night considering that I didn’t sleep one wink. Ego, her friend Precious and I were up all night watching Scandal season 3 reruns. 


That show is amazing!!!

Shonda Rhimes is AMAZING!!!

Ego wasn’t up for watching the show with us but at some point she had to wake up because Precious and I couldn’t ‘HMMM’ loud enough. Between us both we downed 4 bottles of Pepsi, Coke, Fanta and Mirinda and actually clinking our bottles and saying cheers to every one of Olivia Pope’s victories.
God that show is amazing!!!


LoL don’t they look just terrible? LoL

We finished Scandal season 3 at 4:52am and then I tried to sleep. I dreamed that I was also amazing, like Olivia and Papa and Mama Pope. But just as soon as I was about to crack a case and have a major victory, Ego kicked me awake. It was time to get up for work.

She ruined my victory!!
My Olivia Pope moment. Ruined!!

I Hate her.!!!!!!!!

In other unrelated news. It’s Africa Fashion Week Nigeria.
How do I know? Well, it pays to have friends in fashion…and also the thing held in the hall next to the one my church meets at at the Eko Hotel.

I was around to see the preps for the show, all the models on full display; long legs, diva attitudes and all. And of course no fashion show would be complete without The Gays of our Lives, strutting their…stuff across the hallways, selling their market, helping designers and other preparations for the show or pretending they actually have any single shred of talent for designing clothes or putting clothes together.
Just because you wear ‘different’ clothes don’t make you a designer or stylist. I’m just done with this.

So, in honour of the current fashion week, I chose to do something I would not normally do. Be fashionable.

OK I just lied.

But I did put on white trousers though.

Yes. And I don’t look like a mafia gang member or a secondary school boy.

No pictures please.

So I urge everyone this week to just do it. Throw caution to the wind and live vicariously, dress-wise of course.

Now I’m at work, sleep-depraved. Turns out The Star audition I went for and got in showed up in the Vanguard on Friday. Now my colleagues are all over me. Could today be anymore embarrassing?

Seriously guys, I’m wearing white pants here.
And I look juvenile in that newspaper article photo.


*covers face*


Dear Diary,

      You will never believe what just happened to me today.

Wanna guess?

I just scored a place on Music Reality TV show!!!
Or is it Reality Music TV Show?
Or whichever way it chooses to be.

The name of the show is Star!!



STAR. Never heard of it before. But I think it used to be Star Search or something like that.

I didn’t see this coming. Nkem hollered me this morning about the audition. And I didn’t wanna go because I hate auditions. And also I may or may not have been rejected at music show auditions before. No names called.

Project Fame.

Well, now I’ve gotten a Golden Ticket to South Africa where the show will happen. Cool, huh?


Oh yeah, what did I sing? I started with Bruno Mars’ Grenade. They stopped me and asked for something upbeat, disco and funky.

Ummm. What other song of our time mixes all elements?

Love On Top. Beyoncé.

Now I And my $2 Ron Bei sunglasses are off to South Africa.
I don’t know when. But still. This is quite a surprise. I think God is telling me sorry for Sunday night when I was hit in the face by a drunk passerby and then dashed my foot against a stone and had my guardian angel fired!!


I’d love to lock my hair

Dear Diary,


Look at that magnificent head of hair.

I’d love to have that at some point in my life.

Really. I do.

I know there are the perks and the obstacles to achieving this. And I shall hereby enumerate.


1. I shall look like a rockstar. Yes I shall, not exactly an actual rock rockstar, maybe a Bob Marley type character. Only hotter.
2. If that fails, I shall look like one of those Tyler Perry actor men people. I grew up with the notion that people who keep dreadlocks are possessed by demons or have been sacrificed to the gods to be Nazarites for the rest of their miserable lives.

Not anymore.

3. I wanna be a singer. And it would rock big time to whip my locks as I titillate and mesmerise the audience with my insanely amazing talent and persona.


Of course I do not want locks that long and thick and wild.

I didn’t mean that to sound sexual at all. I am a child of God.


Now the challenges that face the achieving of this goal.

1. Parental and Social Wahala.

I can imagine the three day long lecture I shall receive backed with scriptural quotes and traditional and customary proverbs and parables. And of course, some people would ask me silly questions. “Ah Ah? Why are you keeping dada?” “Se owa okay?!” “Don’t you know it’s not good?”

I can’t even roll my eyes hard enough at the thought already.

2. The job.

I am currently a civil servant. We are set in our ways, you know. My new look shall be frowned upon.
It is unfair.

My friend Bem who is an amazing artiste has the most beautiful afro, and his office hasn’t forced him to remove it. I envy him so much right now.

Anyway, I will lock my hair at some point soon. And bulk up as well, because dreads happen to look phenomenal with a muscular body.
Yes I am a vain, vain person.

3. The greatest obstacle to achieving this look is ME.
Yes. Me. I am my own greatest obstacle. Because I am afraid of the outcome, the reaction and perception I have hereby crippled my mind from willing my body to move and do the needful. (speaking of which, where is Stella Oduah our fired Aviation Minister?)

I hope to one day break from societal expectations and just play with my own hair. image



I need my voice back

Dear Diary,

        My voice is not working!!!

Since the vigil in church 2 Fridays ago my voice has not recovered. I have a lot of singing to do this month in church, at weddings and at sundry events.

God. Please. If you can read this. Not saying you can’t read. I mean, if you have a computer or some kind of internet-access device in heaven and you read my blog by some stroke of miraculous happenstance…then please give me my voice back. I am leading this amazing Tye Tribbett song on Sunday and I am in love with that song. Of course I love you more than the song. Don’t get jealous…it’s just a song. And I just really wanna sing it to you. It says what would I do without you…or something like that. *covers face*
So you see, my voice needs to come back. Like tonight.

Please dear Mr Jesus, please and thank you.

If you like (or hate) what you just read let me know your thoughts on it, please and thank you.

The proceedings of the night


Dear Diary,

          I attempted to pull off this look today. But I wasn’t satisfied with the outcome.
No I won’t show you the photo simply because I am angry. On my way home from a meeting and the water below the Eko bridge stinks like a certain sour meal I am thinking of. And also because the picture I have isn’t that good.

Really this smell is affecting my ability to think straight. I need happy thoughts.
Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

Oh yeah. I co-wrote and was featured in a VJ Adams’ song. My part was small but not too small to pass your ears if you listen. I mean, how could you miss it? I start the damn song!!

Ok it is not a damn song. It is a good song celebrating the Super Eagles and the grand idea and notion and phenomenon of being a champion, a survivor, a hustler, a Nigerian basically.
So it’s me, Yvonne (who?) and Tiwizi the producer-cum-singer-cum-guy who works on my nerves everytime. seriously he is an amazing producer You may or may not know him from that Bez’s Stupid Song video as the guy in a black suit that was dancing like a “what’s that name for people who run mad at moonlit nights?” AHA!!! Lunatic

So download it and enjoy.



It has just come to my notice that it’s Akan’s birthday?
                  Who again?

My friend!!!! The boss. The don!!!!!


And I didn’t wish him Happy Birthday. I wonder how I would have known, seeing as he didn’t tell me before time and I am not witches and wizards and mammy water spirits. Now he is forming vex for me. Mmsschewwwwwwww.

I’ve gotten to Costain, my bus stop. Can’t wait to get off. These yoruba men in the bus have been arguing since I got in at Lekki

I just can’t.