Over the weekend, i called Lag to speak to mumsy and popsy and to hear the latest gists in Lagos, like my siblings and I normally do. We gisted about everything from the latest party mumsy attended to her job to boytalk, school, work and so many orisirisis. As i was about to hang up, it then fell out of my mouth to tell mumsy that i'd be going to Cleveland on Friday. Bummer!!! If i could've taken that back, i'd gladly have done so. The interrogation then started. Who are u going to see? With my mumsy, u just can't say a friend, u have to tell her the sex of the friend, how u met the friend and all the other stuff. Where are you staying? How long? Infact, i started regretting why on earth i mentioned it to her sef. Monday morning, mumsy called me to pray with me over the phone about the trip. She even said she'd fast for a day or so and pray and i should join her too.
Okay, i prayed about it, like i do whenever i'm planning a trip. Fasting? I don't think so. Popsy called me on Tuesday, and started another round of interrogation. My grandparents even know about the trip now, so i'm waiting for grandpa to call and start off with his own interrogation. Infact, i don't understand these people. I know it's for my safety and all, but i think i've my head screwed on tight too. Not that i'm tryna toot my horn or sumtin', but i've never been wild to do stupid stuff. My litmus test, whenever i'm away from home is, "What would mumsy think, about what i'm doing?" Even before WWJD. After explaining everything to popsy, he then said he'd persuade mum, and they'll call me tomorrow, so i'm waiting to hear the verdict o. If only they knew the details about that trip to DC.
Now, i begin to wonder sef, does honesty really pay? If i had lied, nko about where i was going to, would they have preferred that. Of course, i didn't give my uncle the entire details and all. Sometimes, they forget i'm an adult. When my little brother, 18 year old boy o, went to Virginia to visit his girlfriend, popsy knew and even supported him to the fullest. But since it's me, na so tori come dey flow. He was like, i'm a girl and so it's different. Abegi, what's the difference o. Of course, if i didn't trust this friend i'm going to visit to an extent (70%), i wouldn't go, but seriously, this is my paddy from waaaaaay back. Even though him sef, get K-leg somehow (If u're reading this, it's all luff, u know). Popsy and mumsy even know him and his parents, and all along, while we were all in Naija, they thought we were dating. Imagine o? Even , popsy still asked me today if we are dating. Of course not. We're just good friends, and dating would spoil the friendship thingie going on. The bobo sef has a chic so i'm happy about that, no worries.
D has been calling me a lot this past week o. 3 texts yesterday alone, 2 last night and 1 while at work, to see how my day was going. What does this boy want from my life now? Just last week, i deleted all his numbers from my phone, so i wouldn't be tempted to call him, even though i really felt like. I don't want it to seem like i'm too eager or sumtin'.God forbid! He has to step up his game, if i'd gree for him. He's a good gister o, i was just laughing as he was gisting me about orisirisi (many things). E, that i haven't heard from in a while too remembered me last week and called. Wharrisdis? I've told E in so many ways, thru my actions and all, although not verbally, that i'm not interested. Oh boy, still doesn't get it. I might just hit the nail on the head and tell him softly softly again. As for D, i dunno what's wrong with him, he seems like a carefree person. (Of course, he doesn't know about this blog, if he did, my rep would be in serious jeopardy, i can't risk that o). I can't wait for Cleveland, well if my verdict favors me. This my trying to be a good gal, is not paying me at all.
VBS (Vacation Bible School) started yesterday in church. I'm helping out and it's so much fun. I'm really having a good time, even though i'm doing agbaya stuff, like putting on silly hats, dancing and jumping around. The little kid in me is coming out again. So much stuff to write, but my books are crying to me to pick them up.
The Fresh Prince of Juba and the £50 note
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