Thursday 12 April 2012

I'm coming home...

The day don come. I am carrying myself back to Naija. Chai! Man don tey for dis side o! I will miss the blondes and the brunettes. All these red heads just jor my side, so no postcard for una!


You really have to experience Polish parties to understand why anyone who leaves this country always misses the women. Especially when you are a Naija lad, i.e. an expert at setting P. I even hear sey some boys go dey quote rap lyrics for babes and dem go dey fall in love. God dey sha...










I sha thank God sey in the midst of all that Slavic XX chromosomes I found myself the ideal wifey. 


The girl come run go Australia. Story of my life :'(







I sincerely hate packing for journeys. I have been loading and unloading my suitcase over and over these past 2 weeks, and something still ain't right. Na only God know who send me go Egyptair and their 26kg max. I hope sey na woman wey like dudu go dey check-in. Maybe my smile go melt hin heart like grilled plantain on mozzarella (NB. that was an attempt to portray my ajebutter skills. I beg your pardon though - I no know wetin  fit melt under boli o.O).


It wasn't easy choosing the ideal airport attire. You know - something to impress the Nigerian customs officers. In addition who knows, I might be lucky enough to get a seat next to a badt babe. Doubt it though - na so so old women dey always siddon for my side for planes. In the end sha I settled on a black blazer over a fuschia sweat shirt (over here guys call it a gay color, behind their backs their girlfriends tell me I'm cute - dunno which is worse)


Anyway sha make man go chop some last minute oyinbo food before okada come pick me go airport.