Monday 29 November 2010
Dave's Canvas: ASA - « BE MY MAN » [OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO HD]
Dave's Canvas: ASA - « BE MY MAN » [OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO HD]: "Love the vibe...Asa is undoubtedly skilled at what she does. A break from the norm, Asa has proved she's indeed here for the long haul. Tap ..."
Thursday 25 November 2010
Your Beauty or Your Life!
for a woman to say her bosom is her priced possession I think it means two things; that's the only organ which has helped with her self esteem issues or Vanity has turned her into a neurotic!
Cancer as we all know is one of the commonest ways to die, in fact by the time one is 35 or even less one already has to go for checkups to avoid this plague because it can be caused by any and everything! even water I'm sure can cause cancer! after all it starts from a cell that's tired of "working properly" which progresses to malignant growths and tumors... at the early stages something can still be done about it, either by taking drugs or by the infected area cut off instead of spreading to other places... its sad to think one can save her life but chooses to save her boobs first.
The reason for this in my opinion is as said before self esteem issues; some women feel the only way they can keep their husbands or boyfriends is by looking hot and beautiful every time, that way the man would have eyes for only them... they are so wrong! I believe if you attract a man with physical means you would also lose him through physical means; there are many women in this world that when you see them you sigh and say " wish I could be like her! her husband can never leave her!" whereas the beauty queen you are looking at cries at home because her husband is cheating on her with his secretary ( a typical thing that happens ) a woman can be very beautiful but at the end of the day her husband can cheat on her with someone not as beautiful as she is... not even close! 
oh well, I say Good luck to the ladies who prefer to die than have their boobs cut off.
Friday 19 November 2010
One Too Many Drinks
It was pitch black, I couldn’t feel my feet, I felt blind. What happened? We were all in a car, coming from a party, okay Segun drank too much, we all drank too much but we let Timi drive because he was only tipsy now I cant hear anyone’s laughter or Tayo’s silly jokes, yes I remember now, Timi was speeding, Tayo said he sped like a grandma, we were laughing, we saw a bright light and that was it!
I tried to move but I had a sharp pain on my legs, I screamed but my screaming woke none of them up. We were five in the car; Timi, Tayo, Seyi Segun and I. it was Seyi’s birthday and we decided to have a night out. Seyi was such a lovely person, she’d never disappoint anyone and she was so good natured that you’d like to do anything for her. I tried to nudge her, she didn’t budge, I called her, no answer. Please tell me this isn’t happening! “Tayo, Timi, Segun, you guys what’s up now? What’s happening?” I was beginning to feel nervous, I started crying. I groped for Tayo in the dark. Tayo was someone you could never have a dull moment with, he always had something funny or interesting to say, he was so broad minded that he could talk to everybody and anybody, his jokes were quite dry but would be funny when he starts demonstrating. I felt something wet, slimy and sticky; it was a gash on his head, I started wailing. Tayo was my best friend, this must be a nightmare, I know I’m dreaming!
I just had to let myself out because I was getting dizzy and I could hear my head pounding. I tried to push the front seat forward because I realized it was on my legs. I felt Timi’s arms. Timi’s sweet nature, his cute smile and charming personality, he was dead! I had no hope for Segun I knew he’d be gone too, he was outside, figured he was thrown out of the window. Segun; crazy guy with a sensitive heart, I liked him but I’ll never get to be with him. Now I felt alone, I wish I was dead too, what am I going to do? My parents didn’t even know I went for that party, I was screaming and wailing inside the car even if I knew it was no use. “God please help me!” I cried and truly two men came running to the scene. They pulled me out of the car and I heard them speak in Yoruba that my friends were dead and my legs were broken. They put me into their car and I was on my way to the hospital. One of them called for help trying to see how he would get my lifeless friends out of the once beautiful blue sports car Tayo had.
Even still at the hospital and now I’m on a wheel chair I cant stop thinking how and why it had to happen but their memories still linger in my head and heart and I can never forget the friends I lost at third mainland bridge…… at least I should thank God I’m still alive!
I tried to move but I had a sharp pain on my legs, I screamed but my screaming woke none of them up. We were five in the car; Timi, Tayo, Seyi Segun and I. it was Seyi’s birthday and we decided to have a night out. Seyi was such a lovely person, she’d never disappoint anyone and she was so good natured that you’d like to do anything for her. I tried to nudge her, she didn’t budge, I called her, no answer. Please tell me this isn’t happening! “Tayo, Timi, Segun, you guys what’s up now? What’s happening?” I was beginning to feel nervous, I started crying. I groped for Tayo in the dark. Tayo was someone you could never have a dull moment with, he always had something funny or interesting to say, he was so broad minded that he could talk to everybody and anybody, his jokes were quite dry but would be funny when he starts demonstrating. I felt something wet, slimy and sticky; it was a gash on his head, I started wailing. Tayo was my best friend, this must be a nightmare, I know I’m dreaming!
I just had to let myself out because I was getting dizzy and I could hear my head pounding. I tried to push the front seat forward because I realized it was on my legs. I felt Timi’s arms. Timi’s sweet nature, his cute smile and charming personality, he was dead! I had no hope for Segun I knew he’d be gone too, he was outside, figured he was thrown out of the window. Segun; crazy guy with a sensitive heart, I liked him but I’ll never get to be with him. Now I felt alone, I wish I was dead too, what am I going to do? My parents didn’t even know I went for that party, I was screaming and wailing inside the car even if I knew it was no use. “God please help me!” I cried and truly two men came running to the scene. They pulled me out of the car and I heard them speak in Yoruba that my friends were dead and my legs were broken. They put me into their car and I was on my way to the hospital. One of them called for help trying to see how he would get my lifeless friends out of the once beautiful blue sports car Tayo had.
Even still at the hospital and now I’m on a wheel chair I cant stop thinking how and why it had to happen but their memories still linger in my head and heart and I can never forget the friends I lost at third mainland bridge…… at least I should thank God I’m still alive!
Ganja Breeder
I smoke dope by the pound, started since I was fifteen, this was the only way I could free myself from the tensions at home; the slapping, hitting, door slamming amidst the barks and yells of my parents on me or themselves. For five years I’ve been facing this, no other place to go, my parents don’t really care if I disappear, I really don’t care if I disappear because I’ve had it with life.
Anytime I face a major argument at home which happens on a daily basis I force myself to go to school (even if I hate school) then after lectures I go to the highest floor, sit on the railings and smoke my heart out living all worries behind and feeling high and free like a bird in the sky, then I come down eyes bloodshot and smelling like an incinerator but I feel more relaxed and stronger ready to face the challenges at home, then the cycle continues.
On this particular day, different it felt, my father came down for breakfast and yelled at me for not washing his car, I didn’t give excuses I said I was sorry. My mother came down smoking as usual, my father slapped the cigarette off her mouth, round hundred began, I left them, went to school, sat at the back amidst searching eyes, left after lectures and went to my spot. Here I smoked like never before, puffing smoke like a choo choo train then I felt myself lifted off the railings going down down, sinking deeper deeper into oblivion. I felt free as ever, I was really flying, actually flying then I heard a big thud and I slept.
I woke up finding myself in a white-turned-brown-with-age room, I stood up, felt a bit woozy then steady, I was dressed in white, I saw my clothes at the corner, took the white off and wore my regulars; blue top, black flared jeans and chucks. I left the building, didn’t care about where I was going. I could have sworn I walked for days, there were some days I’d stop and look at events around me; people punished unjustly, good people who can change the world easily die but there was one particular boy I couldn’t stop observing. He was a weeder like me but I noticed he was fighting it. Sometimes I’d see him in a church praying or talking to a priest and after the chat I’d see a glow on his face, he would look happier than when he was smoking. Due to this I promised to stop smoking because I’ve seen somewhere else I can go to ease my pain. I decided to rush back home.
When I got to my house, it was empty, even my neighbors weren’t at home. When I went to my friend’s house and heard from two girls that he went for a funeral I decided to go for the funeral.
When I got there, there were quite a number of people all dressed in black and it wasn’t easy spotting my friend but I noticed two couples close to the coffin. They were holding hands something my parents can never do although the woman looked familiar, then I spotted my friend close to the couples. I decided to see the person inside the coffin; the face so pale and gaunt, the body looked like stretched rubber but all the same he looked peaceful. After the burial I stayed a little longer and watched the people leave. The two couples stayed back still holding hands close to the tomb. When they left I went to see the name on the tombstone it read “Tunde Kodjo, 1988-2006” I laughed I told myself my parents can NEVER be peaceful together then I thought again, I touched my arms and legs, I could feel nothing; I was dead… and I hadn’t realized it!
Anytime I face a major argument at home which happens on a daily basis I force myself to go to school (even if I hate school) then after lectures I go to the highest floor, sit on the railings and smoke my heart out living all worries behind and feeling high and free like a bird in the sky, then I come down eyes bloodshot and smelling like an incinerator but I feel more relaxed and stronger ready to face the challenges at home, then the cycle continues.
On this particular day, different it felt, my father came down for breakfast and yelled at me for not washing his car, I didn’t give excuses I said I was sorry. My mother came down smoking as usual, my father slapped the cigarette off her mouth, round hundred began, I left them, went to school, sat at the back amidst searching eyes, left after lectures and went to my spot. Here I smoked like never before, puffing smoke like a choo choo train then I felt myself lifted off the railings going down down, sinking deeper deeper into oblivion. I felt free as ever, I was really flying, actually flying then I heard a big thud and I slept.
I woke up finding myself in a white-turned-brown-with-age room, I stood up, felt a bit woozy then steady, I was dressed in white, I saw my clothes at the corner, took the white off and wore my regulars; blue top, black flared jeans and chucks. I left the building, didn’t care about where I was going. I could have sworn I walked for days, there were some days I’d stop and look at events around me; people punished unjustly, good people who can change the world easily die but there was one particular boy I couldn’t stop observing. He was a weeder like me but I noticed he was fighting it. Sometimes I’d see him in a church praying or talking to a priest and after the chat I’d see a glow on his face, he would look happier than when he was smoking. Due to this I promised to stop smoking because I’ve seen somewhere else I can go to ease my pain. I decided to rush back home.
When I got to my house, it was empty, even my neighbors weren’t at home. When I went to my friend’s house and heard from two girls that he went for a funeral I decided to go for the funeral.
When I got there, there were quite a number of people all dressed in black and it wasn’t easy spotting my friend but I noticed two couples close to the coffin. They were holding hands something my parents can never do although the woman looked familiar, then I spotted my friend close to the couples. I decided to see the person inside the coffin; the face so pale and gaunt, the body looked like stretched rubber but all the same he looked peaceful. After the burial I stayed a little longer and watched the people leave. The two couples stayed back still holding hands close to the tomb. When they left I went to see the name on the tombstone it read “Tunde Kodjo, 1988-2006” I laughed I told myself my parents can NEVER be peaceful together then I thought again, I touched my arms and legs, I could feel nothing; I was dead… and I hadn’t realized it!
Flowers for Her
The traffic was terrible that day and i can remember how annoying it was when the hawkers came banging at my door trying terribly to sell their goods, if only they knew what i was going through inside. it was becoming too much so i shouted " would you get out of my sight!" they all froze and took ten giant steps back, they met me on a very terrible day and the traffic made it worse.
It began to rain which added to the mood i was in, i put on the radio to make me feel better, it was a slow song that was switched off with immediate effect, i tried eating the twix bar in my bag, still didnt work, i tried brushing my hair and it still didnt work then i began to think "why, why her?"
We were once enemies, we couldnt stand each other till the glorious day we realized we were born on the same day, attended the same primary school, secondary school and now university. the major thing that got us glued together was our love for movies and writing. We became like two peas in a pod, inseparable. the fights began but we prevailed then there came the major thing.
i thought of the last words i said to her and trickles of tears rolled down my face " you know we are inseparable" this was after the fourth major fight we had.
she loved cars, she could tell you the names of all the latest cars including their features. she loved shoes, she had a whole wardrobe for that. she loved green, almost all her clothes were green and most of all she loved writing. her stories and poems were so interesting and emotion filled, one could not understand how she could come up with such figures of speech, more tears rolled down my cheek. i had lost her, my best friend, my second half,everything one could wish to have in a person; pretty, sophisticated, principled with a wonderful personality. i had to stop thinking because i broke down in tears, i thought " i cant let her go, I'm scared to walk alone, I'm an only child, i cant do it, I'll definitely cry everyday" HONK, HONK, HONK! went the car behind me, the traffic was moving and it had stopped raining, there was still a bit of time to meet the funeral mass.
During the mass and after i thought to myself, " she can never live again, she cant hear me if i speak nor feel anything with my words, she's like a log of wood, a block of stone, PATHETIC! or maybe not. It dawned on me, she's alive in me; my memories, the things we did together, the places we went, the games we played, i actually laughed and the sun came out and shone brightly. i cant keep mourning forever, i don't think she would want to see me sad, she would want me to remember the good things about her and all the things we did, it would give her joy wherever she is.
With that and a smile on my face i approached her grave and dropped the flowers for her.
It began to rain which added to the mood i was in, i put on the radio to make me feel better, it was a slow song that was switched off with immediate effect, i tried eating the twix bar in my bag, still didnt work, i tried brushing my hair and it still didnt work then i began to think "why, why her?"
We were once enemies, we couldnt stand each other till the glorious day we realized we were born on the same day, attended the same primary school, secondary school and now university. the major thing that got us glued together was our love for movies and writing. We became like two peas in a pod, inseparable. the fights began but we prevailed then there came the major thing.
i thought of the last words i said to her and trickles of tears rolled down my face " you know we are inseparable" this was after the fourth major fight we had.
she loved cars, she could tell you the names of all the latest cars including their features. she loved shoes, she had a whole wardrobe for that. she loved green, almost all her clothes were green and most of all she loved writing. her stories and poems were so interesting and emotion filled, one could not understand how she could come up with such figures of speech, more tears rolled down my cheek. i had lost her, my best friend, my second half,everything one could wish to have in a person; pretty, sophisticated, principled with a wonderful personality. i had to stop thinking because i broke down in tears, i thought " i cant let her go, I'm scared to walk alone, I'm an only child, i cant do it, I'll definitely cry everyday" HONK, HONK, HONK! went the car behind me, the traffic was moving and it had stopped raining, there was still a bit of time to meet the funeral mass.
During the mass and after i thought to myself, " she can never live again, she cant hear me if i speak nor feel anything with my words, she's like a log of wood, a block of stone, PATHETIC! or maybe not. It dawned on me, she's alive in me; my memories, the things we did together, the places we went, the games we played, i actually laughed and the sun came out and shone brightly. i cant keep mourning forever, i don't think she would want to see me sad, she would want me to remember the good things about her and all the things we did, it would give her joy wherever she is.
With that and a smile on my face i approached her grave and dropped the flowers for her.
Thursday 18 November 2010
facebook Notes
These are my old notes from facebook... hope u like them.
ITS GREEN!
I waited in the bathroom, waited for hours, thought of what went wrong, what happened. i got caught off guard, just a split second hoping it wont matter, hoping for no consequences, then i began to feel nauseous, dizzy, easily tired. what could all this mean? i refused to think it, i refused to go there but it was about time, the clock is ticking.
I checked it, thought i saw a flicker of red. a spark of hope lit my heart but the tiny light was donated by the GREEN. my heart sunk, it felt like a gush of green drowned the light red, it glowed GREEN, bright GREEN.
why, why me? i am from a reputable home. good parents, siblings, what do i tell them? i go to school, have studies, how about my future? it cant happen now, i cant do it, i cannot! the shame i would bear, the news would spread like wild fire... i have to stop it now!
three weeks have passed, I have done nothing but its been a month since i knew. the signs become obvious everyday. the boy knew, he took off! wish i didn't look into his eyes and swallow the sweet words that were like music to my ears, wish i didn't encourage the midnight walks and starlit poetry, wish i dint gaze on that face with the devilish smile... if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
I have decided to do it, whatever it takes, i have a fat bank account, that should do it.
as I walk on the streets I look at people: some happy, some with babies... babies...
how innocent, how peaceful, their eyes sparkle with love, their tiny helpless limbs wiggle, yearn for protection. i break down in tears and run home.
The time came my mother asked, I replied a weak yes and she cried. my father observed, my response was weaker and I was almost disowned. I took the shame, the blame, I had no comforting words only the movement of the being kept me going and waited longing for the day I could see it.
three years now and I am still enjoying her smile, like to stroke her hair, like to tell her stories and hear her say she loves me. I watch her play and bounce in the sun then i sigh to myself, it was worth it.
ITS GREEN!
I waited in the bathroom, waited for hours, thought of what went wrong, what happened. i got caught off guard, just a split second hoping it wont matter, hoping for no consequences, then i began to feel nauseous, dizzy, easily tired. what could all this mean? i refused to think it, i refused to go there but it was about time, the clock is ticking.
I checked it, thought i saw a flicker of red. a spark of hope lit my heart but the tiny light was donated by the GREEN. my heart sunk, it felt like a gush of green drowned the light red, it glowed GREEN, bright GREEN.
why, why me? i am from a reputable home. good parents, siblings, what do i tell them? i go to school, have studies, how about my future? it cant happen now, i cant do it, i cannot! the shame i would bear, the news would spread like wild fire... i have to stop it now!
three weeks have passed, I have done nothing but its been a month since i knew. the signs become obvious everyday. the boy knew, he took off! wish i didn't look into his eyes and swallow the sweet words that were like music to my ears, wish i didn't encourage the midnight walks and starlit poetry, wish i dint gaze on that face with the devilish smile... if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
I have decided to do it, whatever it takes, i have a fat bank account, that should do it.
as I walk on the streets I look at people: some happy, some with babies... babies...
how innocent, how peaceful, their eyes sparkle with love, their tiny helpless limbs wiggle, yearn for protection. i break down in tears and run home.
The time came my mother asked, I replied a weak yes and she cried. my father observed, my response was weaker and I was almost disowned. I took the shame, the blame, I had no comforting words only the movement of the being kept me going and waited longing for the day I could see it.
three years now and I am still enjoying her smile, like to stroke her hair, like to tell her stories and hear her say she loves me. I watch her play and bounce in the sun then i sigh to myself, it was worth it.
Creativity
just saw this breathtaking picture on this guys blog! that is simply creativity!
www.paulocoelho.blogspot.com
The New Generation Entrepreneurs!!!!
One way to relax and soothe the senses (especially the eyes!) is looking at a very good high quality photograph... I think we can get some from this guy-------->
AGE:21
JOB:Owner, Orbit Imagery LTD
SINCE:July 2009
PRICE RANGE:100-200k
CONTACT DETAILS:orbitmedia@live.co.uk , 08095683482,
http://orbitimagery.blogspot.com
http://orbitimagery.blogspot.com . Nigeria's Professional Photography Agency
FAVOURITE QUOTE:Find Your Purpose.
Tuesday 16 November 2010
The New Generation Entrepreneurs!!!!!
This generation of boys are not smiling as they have also created a fashion sense that keeps the ladies coming... I for one have a soft spot for guys who dress well, it makes them look hotter (wink!) heres one cutie with a good sense of fashion!
NAME: Adebayo Oke-lawal
NAME: Adebayo Oke-lawalAGE: 20
JOB:Creative director of onyx and pearl, (others include co-stylist and co owner of bubaai, contributor for 360 nobs and radical chic and well blogger(thats not a job sha lol))
SINCE WHEN: 4 months ago
PRICE RANGE: frm like 4k and above, so any one and everyone has a place
CONTACT DETAILS:onyxandpearl@hotmail.com, 07037559787, http://www.leoandpisces.blogspot.com/
FAVOURITE QUOTE: Gods in Control (lol not really a quote sha but yeah)
Sunday 14 November 2010
The New Generation Entrepreneurs!!!
OK like I said in the first part of this article I would let you know about people... young people who have decided to do something about the unemployment issue in the country by putting their talents to good use. here are some very delightful pictures u'd like to see
P.S she also makes flat shoes and bags!!!!
PROFILE:
NAME: Motunrayo Jimoh
AGE: Twenty Something
JOB: CEO, Creative Director, Owner of Fashion Label MAJU
SINCE: 2008
PRICES: from N1,200 upwards
FAVOURITE QUOTE: "whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well"
CONTACT DETAILS:
Phone Number: 08027369104
Email: majufashionlive@gmail.com
Twitter Handle: @Majulive
Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/pages/maju
www.facebook.com/groups/maju
BLOG: www.majufashion.blogspot.com
P.S she also makes flat shoes and bags!!!!
PROFILE:
NAME: Motunrayo Jimoh
AGE: Twenty Something
JOB: CEO, Creative Director, Owner of Fashion Label MAJU
SINCE: 2008
PRICES: from N1,200 upwards
FAVOURITE QUOTE: "whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well"
CONTACT DETAILS:
Phone Number: 08027369104
Email: majufashionlive@gmail.com
Twitter Handle: @Majulive
Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/pages/maju
www.facebook.com/groups/maju
BLOG: www.majufashion.blogspot.com
Saturday 13 November 2010
I like your accent???
I was with a friend one day and we were chatting freely. She told me she was leaving soon to school abroad, I was sad but she had to go, I knew I was going to miss her. she left on August 16th to be precise and returned for the Christmas holidays on the 18th of December. I went to pick her from the airport excited and hoping to hear all about her school and stuff, the first words I heard shocked me " hello darling how are you? I was startled! not the English speaking, the ACCENT frightened me! I tried to act normal then there it came again! more and more flooding my ears. at a point I had to stop her and I said "please talk to me!"
its not that I did not understand what she said but the accent was just... I don't know... fake?
there is nothing wrong having an accent its just sad when the accent is forced or the reason behind the accent is just sad. there are many people who have lived abroad for years and don't come back with 'nose speech problems' they still have and are proud of their Nigerian accent while others leave for 2 weeks and come back with an accent of 15 years! Ok maybe it might sound exaggerated but seriously I think we Nigerians need to reflect and ask ourselves 'why the accent?' I understand sometimes when relating to the British people one has to communicate using their accent, they understand one better that way too and maybe conversing with other Britons give one the 'tinge' of a British accent but apart from that it is quite questionable when one decides to just 'change' his or her accent for questionable reasons.
the truth is when you listen to the radio many times you hear people trying soo hard to talk American or British and its just sad, some forget the accents and mix them up along the way that it becomes a total disaster!. I don't think there is anything wrong with pronouncing your words correctly with your Nigerian accent it is part of who you are, so why don't embrace it?
its not that I did not understand what she said but the accent was just... I don't know... fake?
there is nothing wrong having an accent its just sad when the accent is forced or the reason behind the accent is just sad. there are many people who have lived abroad for years and don't come back with 'nose speech problems' they still have and are proud of their Nigerian accent while others leave for 2 weeks and come back with an accent of 15 years! Ok maybe it might sound exaggerated but seriously I think we Nigerians need to reflect and ask ourselves 'why the accent?' I understand sometimes when relating to the British people one has to communicate using their accent, they understand one better that way too and maybe conversing with other Britons give one the 'tinge' of a British accent but apart from that it is quite questionable when one decides to just 'change' his or her accent for questionable reasons.
the truth is when you listen to the radio many times you hear people trying soo hard to talk American or British and its just sad, some forget the accents and mix them up along the way that it becomes a total disaster!. I don't think there is anything wrong with pronouncing your words correctly with your Nigerian accent it is part of who you are, so why don't embrace it?
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