I hate night-vigils, I really do. I always have and probably always will. I sit there, get lost in my thoughts and more often than not, doze the hell off. Not that night-vigils are bad but there’s something about going to church from a young age without understanding it’s true essence. Going to church was a tradition, a religion, not necessarily a spiritual thing. I’m more mature now, miles less religious and more Christ conscious. I just wanted to sleep on Friday nights while I was little. Now, my Friday nights are for movies but I still dislike night-vigils, I know God loves me but I don’t love night-vigils. Church is good but understanding it’s essence is way better.—True story
I’m a quintessential ajebutter. I’ve spent a large chunk of my life refuting the above stated. I got defensive when people called me a ‘buttie’. My argument was: fine, my parents are quite affluent but it wasn’t always so. Up until I was nine years old, it definitely wasn’t the case. I seldom took offense though. I half- embraced it until recently. My Dad got a fruit basket and after sorting out the fruits he wanted, he told me to peel an orange for him. I smiled in my shame and said ” you really don’t want to hear what I have to say”. He looked at me, smiled back and said ” you don’t know how to peel oranges”. I can’t remember how that conversation ended but yes, I’m an ajebutter. I accept it, I embrace it. Ps using public transportation and climbing okada aren’t really bid deals. They shouldn’t be the yardstick of measuring “ajebutterness”. -True story
She wore a purple satin dress with a plunging neck line to church on Sunday. She sat at the front row where the pastor could see what he shouldn’t see. She made sure she fidgeted so her fun bags could shimmy and wiggle to cause an effect. After the service’s conclusion, Pastor Anu frighteningly began to walk towards her direction. She shimmied and wiggled the more. On getting to her, he said “miss, it’s bad manners to pick your nose in public places, God bless you”. She left church disappointed. The following week, she wore iro and buba and she sat at the last row. -untrue story
Mathematics is my friend, mathematics is my friend, I love it, I will pass it, mathematics is my friend. That was the song my JSS 1 math teacher, Mr Toye taught us in an attempt to make us more interested. I don’t know about the others but it certainly didn’t work for me. I hated and still hate math. It’s not my friend, matter of fact, it’s my longest foe besides lucifer of course. I struggled with math!. My only distinction was the “B3” I got in WAEC and I hustled the life out of it. 90% of my WAEC preparations went to math. Shalla(in wizkid’s voice) to Mrs Popuola my SS3 math teacher, she was the best. I made a promise to never do math in my life after secondary school. So far, I’ve kept that promise. -true story
Why is this titled “Five Fingers Of Death”? I can’t explain it really, it’s stupid and quite pointless. Google is not necessarily your friend on this one, you stand a better chance with the Nigerian police. It has a YouTube/rap influence though. Anyways you just read five paragraphs of pointless or not so pointless literature. Guess what? We are still breathing, we have that in common. That’s what we do, we stay alive till we don’t.
Fist-bumps and kisses